Latest Posts by emmaafinchh - Page 2

If I could remove all my reposts and have one it would be this

Stop giving fathers redemption arcs. That old man sucks and you know it

I have so many fucking issues. But he’s so fine. 😩😩

AND YES, I REALLY WANTED TO DRAW MY VERSION OF AN ADULT BAKUGO OK!!!

you should’ve met 2020-2022 me

y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

tumblr pls fix this I BEG.

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

This is so cutsie

NEWLYWEDS

pairing. bakugo x fem! reader

fluff, married life ig, i headcanon bakugo as a snorer, crack.

Being married to Katsuki Bakugo was no different than dating him, truly, only the title changed.

You’d still bicker over the silliest and smallest things.

Like right now, for example.

Katsuki was asleep next to you. His hands were wrapped snuggly around your waist as you watched your favorite movie before dozing off to sleep.

You tried to ignore it, you really did. But you couldn’t take it anymore.

You sighed and tapped Katsuki once, then twice. He groaned quietly, opening one of his fiery red eyes tiredly to look at you. “What, woman?” He spoke groggily.

“Can you stop snoring….?” You whispered. “The hell? I don’t snore.” He replied grumpily, this time, propping himself on his elbows to glare at you tiredly. “Yes, you do!” You shot back and sat up slightly. “I can’t even hear my damn movie, Katsuki.”

“Whatever, just turn it up.” He dismissed with a grunt, pulling you back into his arms and nuzzling into your chest.

“No, ‘cause then you’ll get mad at me for not letting you sleep.”

“Woman, you’re not letting me sleep either way!” He growled and gave your side a pinch. You gasped and swatted his hand away, deciding to turn the movie off and settling comfortably in his protective arms.

Minutes passed and the bedroom was silent, only the sounds of breathing could be heard. You were slowly drifting off to sleep when—

“Katsuki…” You poked him, whispering.

“What?” He groaned, his voice being muffled against your shirt.

“You’re snoring, I can’t sleep.” You poked him again.

He grumbled, pulling you closer to his body before replying, “For the last time, woman, I don’t snore.”

“Yes you do, that’s literally why I can’t sleep.” You said matter-of-factly to which he scoffed. “Yeah? Then prove it.” He spoke, his eyes still closed.

You groaned into the darkness. “What am I supposed to do, record you?”

“Sure, make it your damn ringtone while you’re at it. Maybe that’ll shut you up.” He smirked lazily, hugging you tighter.

You could only blink in response, the audacity this man had! However, you bit back a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah? And you’re still awake, so whose fault is that?”

You shook your head, smiling and snuggling into him, wrapping your arms around him lazily again. “Whatever, just let me sleep.”

“G’night, dumbass.” He murmured, pressing a gentle, lazy kiss to your forehead before drifting off to sleep….and snoring again.

You sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Tonight was going to be a loooong night.

© CHSVOK. please do not plagiarize, copy, or translate my work in any way, shape, or form.

reblogs are greatly appreciated !

just know if i could crawl on the ceiling on all fours i would

Me in my notes app

😩😩😩

Bakugou Katsuki driving a PORCHE–

WOF WOOF BARK BQRK GGGRRR WOF GRRR BARK BARK GRR GRRR WOF WOOFGGRR BARK AAAGGHHH GRR MEOWWOF WOOF BARK BQRK GGGRRR WOF GRRR BARK BARK GRR GRRR WOF WOOFGGRR BARK AAAGGHHH GRR MEOWWOF WOOF BARK BQRK GGGRRR WOF GRRR BARK BARK GRR GRRR WOF WOOFGGRR BARK AAAGGHHH GRR MEOWWOF WOOF BARK

Mymanmymanmymanmyman

Love when bakugou is in black and white🤍🖤

If you haven’t read this get ur butt on this

CHAPTER 11: 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: 3.6k

an: Another cliffhanger I'm sorry, dont be mad at me.

---

If there was one thing Katsuki Bakugo wanted in his current life, it was you. After the car crash, rage consumed him, his mind bent on tearing apart the driver responsible. But everything shifted when he heard Kirishima's frantic voice calling his name. The look on Kirishima's face made his heart plummet into his stomach.

He had barely dropped the man he intended to pummel when blinding white lights flooded the area. Three cars screeched to a stop, surrounding him and Kirishima.

Then, a man stepped out—tall, pale, and with piercing green eyes that Bakugo could never forget. Moretti.

Instinct screamed at him to run to you, to grab you and flee. He tried, unleashing explosion after explosion, each blast aimed at Moretti and his men. But amidst the chaos, Kirishima had disappeared to get help, and Moretti’s men had reached the wreckage.

They were pulling you out of the car. Limp, lifeless. Blood poured from your leg, staining the ground in a deep crimson pool.

“Get in the car, or I shoot the girl,” Moretti commanded, his tone as cold as steel.

Bakugo froze. There was no real choice. His gaze locked on you—your ghostly pale skin, hair matted with blood and dirt. You looked strangely serene, as if you'd made peace with the horror unfolding.

He wouldn’t let them kill you. Not while he was alive to stop it.

So he got in the car, seething with suppressed fury as they bound a tourniquet around your leg and checked your pulse. The contradiction gnawed at him: Moretti threatened your life, yet kept you alive. Why?

Now he sat in a chair too small for his broad frame, wrists bound but mind racing. Across the room, you lay unconscious, your chest rising and falling faintly—a fragile sign of life.

Your skin was deathly pale, a dark wound visible just above the blindfold they’d placed over your eyes. The blindfold seemed ridiculous—after all, you’d been unconscious for hours.

For two excruciatingly silent hours, he hadn’t seen or heard anyone and it was driving him mad.

The warehouse they were in was heavily guarded. Armed men patrolled the perimeter like it was a military base. Inside the room, there was only one door and a single vent leading who knew where. Security cameras loomed over the room, scanning every corner—except behind him.

He flexed against the ropes, testing their strength. He had to get out, to get you somewhere safe.

It was painfully clear now that you weren’t working for Moretti. Guilt hit him like a sucker punch as he remembered his earlier accusations. He’d jumped to conclusions, faster than he ever had before.

The thought of you lying to him, keeping something so monumental hidden, had stung more than he’d imagined. But the sight of you now—broken, fragile—eclipsed his hurt.

If you both made it out of this, he’d spend every day making it up to you.

He knew Kirishima had to be rallying backup, but the real challenge was figuring out where they were.

And then there was James. Whatever your connection to him, Bakugo had to hope James had realized you were missing.

But right now, nothing else mattered except getting you out alive.

---

When you first came to, you were met with complete darkness. A coarse fabric was draped over your face, muffling your breath and adding to the suffocating sense of confinement. You tried to move, but your wrists were bound tightly behind you, the rough texture of rope biting into your skin. The faint ache in your leg brought the memories flooding back—the car crash, the chaos, and then... nothing.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of dripping water. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the shift in the air told you all you needed to know: Moretti had found you.

The harsh scrape of a chair across concrete jolted you. You flinched instinctively, your pulse quickening as a familiar presence filled the room. That scent—carmel and musk, faint but distinct—was unmistakable.

“Stupid fucking chair.”

Bakugo’s voice cut through the darkness, low and gruff, filled with irritation.

Relief and dread tangled together in your chest. He was here. They had taken him too. Your heart sank at the realization. Not only had you been captured, but now the one person you’d tried to protect was caught in this nightmare with you.

You remained silent, your breathing shallow as you processed your surroundings. The pressure wrapped around your thigh was unmistakable—a makeshift tourniquet, crudely tied but effective. The pain was simmering, dulled only by the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

The scrape of Bakugo’s chair yanked you from your thoughts.

“Stop. Head hurts,” you muttered hoarsely, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

The noise ceased, leaving the room to drown in silence once more.

“Fuck, you’re alive,” Bakugo muttered, almost to himself.

“Mmm,” you hummed, your mind still foggy. “How’d Moretti get you?”

“How’d you know it was Moretti?”

The words slipped out before you could think. “He’s notorious for tying people up in chairs. Plus, I can feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Are you gonna keep asking questions?” you shot back weakly.

His voice darkened, low and dangerous. “Are you gonna keep lying to me?”

The accusation hit you harder than you expected, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “I only lied to you because I care for you.”

“Right.”

The weight of his skepticism pressed down on you. You needed to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Do you have a blindfold on?”

“No, but hands are tied.”

The deadpan response caught you off guard, and before you knew it, laughter bubbled out of you. It wasn’t the right time, and you knew it, but the absurdity of the situation made your head spin.

“Glad to see you still have a sense of humor.” Bakugo snapped, his irritation palpable.

You struggled to catch your breath between fits of giggles. “I’m sorry—it’s not funny… it’s just—how did they even capture you?”

“They rolled up on us after the crash,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “They were gonna kill you if I didn’t comply. I had no choice.”

The laughter died in your throat, replaced by a lump of guilt.

“Yeah, not so funny now,” he added bitterly.

You bit your lip, your mind racing. There was only one reason Moretti would take Bakugo—it wasn’t just about you anymore. Moretti had been watching, studying you, and he knew exactly what buttons to press.

“Katsuki—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he cut you off, already piecing it together.

“Why?” you whispered.

"Cause I couldn’t stand there and watch another man take you. Even if nothin’ made sense,” he murmured, the softness in his voice catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,” you said quietly.

“Did—was anything ever real?”

The question hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Of course it was real. The way your heart beat for him was real. 

“The way I feel about you is real,” you said, your voice trembling.

You could feel his eyes on you, even through the darkness. A smile crept onto your face despite the situation. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Wha—”

“I have a lot to explain to you,” you said, cutting him off.

“Yeah.”

“Is Kiri okay?” You asked, redirecting the conversation again.

“Yeah, he was able to escape before they got to him.”

Relief washed over you. The plan you and Kirishima had made flickered in your mind. He’d be on his way to the cabin now.

“Good,” you muttered.

Bakugo spoke up, an unusual softness to his voice. “M’sorry. Thought you were working with him.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head even though you knew he couldn’t see it. “I’d never work for a person like Moretti.”

“Then how are you tied to him?”

“No relation. Just a scumbag I want dead,” you said bluntly.

“Tch. Tell me about it.”

“One day,” you promised, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ll tell you everything. But right now, we don’t have time.”

The air shifted again, heavier now, as if Moretti’s presence loomed closer. You could sense it before it happened.

The sound of footsteps echoed from outside the room, growing louder. Bakugo stiffened in his chair, and you could feel his energy change, coiling like a spring ready to snap.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” he growled, his voice like thunder as the door creaked open and footsteps moved towards you. 

A pair of hands fiddled with the knot of your blindfold, yanking it away. Blinding white light seared your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to adjust. When your vision cleared, there he was: Moretti.

His piercing green eyes bored into yours with a predatory gleam, a smug smile spreading across his face. He looked older than you remembered, the years of prison etched into the lines around his mouth and eyes, but the malice was as strong as ever.

“Well, isn’t this a treat? Two of Japan’s finest, tied up like common prey,” Moretti drawled, his voice dripping with venom. “Dynamight, the explosive hothead. And Y/N, America's sweetheart. Tell me, do you think the public will mourn you more if I kill you together or one at a time?”

The tension in the room thickened like a fog, suffocating and heavy. Bakugo’s crimson eyes burned with defiance as he pulled against his restraints, the cords creaking ominously under the strain. “Try it,” he spat, his voice a razor-edged promise. “See how far you get before I blow your head off.”

Moretti chuckled, a low, mirthless sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Ah, there’s that famous temper. But let’s not forget who’s holding all the cards here, Dynamight.” He gestured to you, his fingers grazing your cheek in a way that made your stomach churn. “One wrong move, and she’s gone.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his entire body trembling with barely contained rage. He wanted to lash out, to reduce the entire building to ash, but the sight of you—still pale, still weak—kept him anchored.

You shifted slightly, your hands numb from the ropes biting into your wrists. Despite the fear gnawing at your resolve, you forced yourself to speak. “You wont kill me.” Your voice was hoarse, but steady enough to earn his attention.

Moretti’s smug expression didn’t falter. If anything, his predatory smile widened, his piercing green eyes boring into yours with a sinister gleam.

“Of course, you’d say that,” he drawled, his voice low and venomous. “But let’s not play coy. I didn’t kidnap you on a whim. I know exactly what you know.”

You froze, the ropes biting into your wrists as your blood turned to ice.

“That’s right,” Moretti continued, circling your chair like a vulture. “You know where my daughter is. The one thing the police couldn’t break out of you, even when you testified. You kept that little secret buried, didn’t you? To protect her, I assume. But how long do you think you can hold onto it when his life is on the line?”

Bakugo’s eyes flicked toward you, sharp with confusion and fury. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Moretti’s grin widened as he watched Bakugo’s expression twist with confusion and rage. “You really don’t know, do you?” he said, a mockery of sympathy in his tone. “Oh, this is rich. Japan’s greatest hero, clueless about the woman sitting next to him.”

Moretti turned his attention back to you, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. “You didn’t tell him?” He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with mock disbelief. “You mean to say you’ve been playing the role of a helpless civilian this whole time? That’s cold, even for you, Nova.”

Bakugo’s gaze snapped to you, the weight of Moretti’s words settling between you like a live wire. “Nova?” he questioned, his voice low and dangerous. “What’s he talking about?”

Your stomach churned, but you kept your expression neutral. “Don’t listen to him,” you said quickly.

Moretti laughed, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. “Oh, no, no, no. Let’s not brush past this. Dynamight deserves to know who he’s risking his life for.”

He straightened, turning to Bakugo with an almost theatrical flourish. “Meet Nova, America’s former golden girl. Once a top-tier hero in her own right—complete with a shiny little quirk she’s kept hidden from you.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing into slits. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Moretti raised a brow, then gestured toward you. “Go ahead, ask her. Ask her about the years she spent hunting down villains like me. About the testimony that put me in prison. About the daughter she stole from me.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a whip.

But Bakugo was already staring at you, his crimson eyes ablaze with confusion and betrayal. “Is it true?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. 

Moretti clapped his hands together, delighted by the unraveling tension. “Ah, the sweet taste of betrayal. Isn’t it delicious?”

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugo snapped, his glare burning a hole through Moretti.

Moretti’s cold, predatory smile grew as he savored the moment, watching Bakugo struggle with the weight of his words. “And if you thought this was the worst of it, you’re in for a surprise, Dynamight.” He turned back to you, his gaze like a vulture eyeing its prey. “She didn’t just hide her quirk from you, or hide who she was. No, she faked her death.”

Bakugo’s eyes snapped to you, the fury and confusion in his gaze sharp enough to cut through steel. “You were the hero that died in the car accident?” 

Moretti’s laugh echoed around the room, harsh and mocking. “Yes, indeed. That little stunt she pulled after her so-called ‘hero career’ ended. She made everyone believe she was dead—her friends, her family, even the people she’d worked with. But the truth is, she’s been hiding from me. Hiding because she knows I’ll never stop hunting her. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was worse than you could have imagined. Moretti was unraveling everything you’d fought so hard to bury. Every secret, every lie, coming to the surface in the worst way possible.

Bakugo’s gaze never left you, his expression a mixture of disbelief, anger, and hurt. “Why?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had no choice,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Moretti was looking for me. He had connections everywhere. I couldn’t let him find me, so I made them believe I was dead. I had to disappear. I couldn’t risk anyone else getting hurt.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening. “Your precious Nova here is the reason I rotted in prison for six years. She testified against me. She took everything from me.”

You struggled against the ropes, your voice steady despite the tremble in your body. “You don’t deserve to find her. After everything you’ve done, after all the lives you’ve destroyed, she’s better off without you.”

Moretti’s smile disappeared, replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Bakugo snarled, thrashing against his restraints. “You touch her, and I’ll kill you. I swear to god, I’ll rip you apart!”

Moretti glanced at him, amused. “Oh, its not her you should be worried about Dynamight. No, I’ll break her—piece by piece— as she watches, until she tells me what I want to know.”

He straightened, motioning to the guard still holding the syringe. “And when she does, I’ll kill her anyway. After all, she’s the reason I lost everything. Call it poetic justice.”

The guard stepped closer to Bakugo, gripping his arm, and panic surged through you. “Moretti, if you hurt him, you’ll never find her,” you said quickly, your voice rising.

That gave him pause. He raised a hand, signaling the guard to stop, and turned to you with narrowed eyes. 

“You know I’m the only one who knows where she is,” you said, forcing yourself to keep calm. “If you kill him—or push me too far—you’ll lose any chance of finding her. Forever.”

Moretti’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. He leaned in close, his voice a low growl. “Then start talking. Or I’ll make sure you wish I’d killed you instead.”

Beside you, Bakugo’s crimson eyes blazed with rage and desperation. “Don’t tell him anything!” he shouted. “He’s lying—he’ll kill you no matter what!”

But you weren’t ready to give up. Not yet. You had to play this carefully, or neither of you would make it out alive.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him. “She’s dead.” 

Moretti froze, his eyes narrowing, his hand still suspended in the air, ready to give another order. The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Bakugo's furious protests faded into the background as Moretti processed your words.

“What did you just say?” Moretti’s voice was low, dangerously calm.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold your ground. “She’s dead. Milly’s gone.”

Moretti’s gaze turned icy, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his features. “You’re lying,” he hissed. “You’re just trying to buy yourself time.”

But the raw edge of fear in his eyes gave him away. He was already questioning everything.

“I’m not lying,” you said, your voice unwavering despite the terror clawing at your chest. “I knew you’d come for her. After I received your little ‘gift,’ I realized I had to act. She didn’t deserve a life with you as her father, so I did what had to be done.”

Moretti’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

“She’s in a place now where you’ll never reach her,” you continued, your words cold, resolute. “A place where you can’t hurt her anymore.”

Moretti’s expression twisted into a snarl. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

The room seemed to grow colder at the intensity of Moretti’s roar. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his breathing quickened as his eyes locked onto you, as if trying to burn a hole through you with sheer force of will.

You held his gaze, knowing full well what you had just said would push him beyond the edge. “I did what I had to do,” you repeated, your voice firm even as your heart hammered in your chest. “She’s gone, Moretti. I made sure she was safe. You will never find her. No one will. She’s in a place where you can’t touch her anymore.”

Moretti’s chest heaved, his anger mounting with each word you spoke. “No,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t do this. You didn’t kill my daughter.”

“I did,” you said, the weight of your lies sinking deep into your chest. “I made sure she was free of you. From your cruelty, your obsession. I couldn’t let her grow up under the shadow of someone like you. You’re a monster, Moretti. And she didn’t deserve that life.”

Moretti’s face twisted in fury, his eyes wild with disbelief. He took a step toward you, the threat of violence hanging in the air. “You’re lying. You’re lying to protect yourself. Tell me where she is. NOW.”

The guard, still holding Bakugo's arm, prepared the needle, but you hadn't noticed. You were focused on Moretti—the man who had destroyed so many lives, including his own daughter’s. You didn’t back down.

“She’s gone, Moretti,” you repeated, your voice colder now. “I ended her suffering. And now you’ll never get your hands on her. Not now, not ever.”

The silence in the room was suffocating, thick with the heavy realization settling in Moretti’s mind. His jaw clenched, his muscles trembling with barely contained rage, but there was something else there, something darker: desperation. He had nothing left to hold onto.

“You think I’ll let you get away with this?” he growled, taking another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to strike you. But something in your eyes, something in your stance, seemed to hold him at bay. For a brief moment, the fury in his eyes faltered.

“You already lost her,” you said, your voice low, cold with the finality of it all. “And now, the only thing left to you is vengeance.”

The guard beside Bakugo glanced nervously at Moretti, who was seething with rage, but it was clear he was struggling to process the depth of what you had just said. His emotions were a storm, a swirl of grief and anger, confusion and disbelief.

“Take her down the hall,” Moretti commanded, his voice sharp and final as the guard moved from Bakugo to your side.

You glanced over at Bakugo, watching his face twist in confusion and fury as he processed the weight of your words. His protests grew louder, his anger mounting with each passing second. But the guard was relentless, yanking you to your feet and dragging you toward the door.

You didn’t know if you’d ever see Bakugo again, but in that moment, you knew this was the only way. Moretti would stop at nothing to get what he wanted—he’d torture you until you spoke. So, you had given him the answer he was desperate for.

Now, all you could do was hope. Hope that while Moretti took his time with you, it would give Bakugo the chance to escape, to find a way out before it was too late.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh@faetoraa@iissza@theasgardianmexican @cax-per

Yall know what time it is

CHAPTER 10: 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: 3.5k

warning: Guns, blood, car accident (let me know if I missed anything)

an: this was actually the hardest chapter to write, my brain has not been working properly. This chapter shows what Bakugo was doing the night he found out about James and Morettis daughter (chap 8). While Y/N was taking Milly to the cabin and figuring out Morettis location, Bakugo was plotting behind her back. Anyways enjoy 🫶

“Dynamight, we’ve found something.”

Bakugo stood in the middle of your home, surrounded by officers and detectives tearing through your personal belongings. The scene was chaotic, and the constant rustling of drawers, the clinking of metal, and the shuffle of paper filled the air.

He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at this point. All he could remember was staring at the picture of the young girl—the one that had sent his mind spiraling. From there, everything became a blur. Thoughts of you, of Moretti, of connections he didn’t want to make but couldn’t escape, tumbled through his mind. The sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

Rage began to churn in his chest. The next thing he remembered, he was barking orders, directing his best detectives to enter your house. He hadn’t expected you to be here—didn’t want to look you in the eyes as his team scoured every corner of the home you’d made.

It felt wrong, even as his anger justified the intrusion. This was an invasion of privacy—bordering on illegal. But he didn’t care. The truth was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant crossing lines.

“Sir?”

A younger detective called to him from down the hallway. Bakugo turned to find the officer standing at the door of your bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, his gaze landed on the framed photos that lined the walls. They were snapshots of your life—moments you had chosen to remember, moments that once made him feel like he knew you.

One of those photos caught his eye, a picture of you and him together. It was taken after his birthday celebration. You’d begged him to take a picture with you. The photo was simple—he stood beside you, dressed in his usual attire, while you held onto his arm with a soft, playful smile. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he remembered the night vividly. He remembered the warmth of the crowd, the laughter, the sense that something unspoken had passed between the two of you.

Now, the sight of that photo made him want to destroy it, to wipe away the reminder of how wrong everything had become.

“We found a safe in the closet,” the detective said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We’re working on opening it now.”

“Good. If you don’t get it open soon, I’ll blow it open myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officers worked on the safe, Bakugo took a moment to assess the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how much it didn’t match the woman he thought he knew. The room was too dull, too plain, for someone as vibrant and energetic as you.

The beige walls felt sterile, the white sheets on the bed lacking even the smallest touch of personality. It didn’t feel like you. It felt like an imposter.

He wondered if this was where you went to grieve in silence. If it was him, he’d feel suffocated by the emptiness of the space.

“Sir, come take a look at this.”

The detective’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Bakugo stepped over, looking down at the contents of the safe with growing unease.

A M1911 pistol rested on the first shelf, and beneath it, a picture and a clear bag containing something shiny—was that a necklace?

“Is it loaded?”

“No, sir.”

“Put the gun in the evidence bag.”

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to the photo, his stomach twisting as he picked it up. It was a picture of you and Moretti’s daughter, the little girl smiling with her toothless grin. And you… you looked so young, so full of life in the selfie you’d taken with her.

A sick feeling washed over him as the realization hit—this wasn’t just some random photo. It was proof that you were connected to Moretti in ways he hadn’t wanted to believe.

He slipped the picture into the evidence bag before his eyes fell to the necklace. It was a simple gold charm with the letter “N” etched into it. His fingers traced the surface as he turned it over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. He shoved it back into the bag without thinking.

Every inch of his body ached with betrayal. You were someone he’d trusted, and now he found out you had been lying to him the entire time. The woman he had secretly loved, who had kept him in the dark.

Turning away from the bedroom, he made his way back to the living room, the weight of what he’d just uncovered sinking deeper with each step. He was seething now—his body shaking with fury, the kind of anger that made it hard to breathe.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima’s voice reached him just as his hands began to tremble. His red-haired friend stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell did you do, Bakugo?”

Bakugo’s teeth clenched. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about the way this might look. To him, the truth was clearer than ever.

“She’s working for Moretti.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kirishima’s voice was laced with confusion, clearly not following his train of thought.

“Moretti’s daughter is her damn daughter. She’s the reason he’s even here.”

“No, man… you don’t know that. Calm down.”

Bakugo was beyond calming down. His voice rose, dripping with fury.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” His fist clenched, ready to put it through the wall if only to release the frustration coursing through him.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bakugos shaking hands. His heart sank as he pieced together what Bakugo must’ve found. “Okay,” he said carefully, “I’m not saying it doesn’t look bad. But we don’t know the full story yet.”

“I know enough.” Bakugo’s voice was lower now, but no less deadly. “She lied to us. She lied to me.”

Kirishima hesitated. “What if she didn’t? What if there’s more to this? Maybe she had a reason—”

“Reason?” Bakugo barked a humorless laugh. “You think there’s a reason good enough to keep photos of another man’s daughter? The man who’s been killing innocent women?” His voice cracked, and he abruptly turned away, his fists shaking at his sides.

Kirishima stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m not saying Moretti isn’t scum. We both know he is. But we’ve got to be smart here. If we go off half-cocked—”

“I’m done talking,” Bakugo growled, cutting him off. “I’m done sitting around waiting for the truth to slap me in the face. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“Bakugo, no!” Kirishima’s hand shot out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. If you go after her now—”

A feminine voice cut through the tension, freezing both men in their tracks.

“Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath hitching. Standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dim light, was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

YN POV

You had headed back home to grab a few things for the cabin, expecting a quick in-and-out trip. But as soon as you turned onto your street, your stomach dropped. Red and blue lights strobed against the darkened houses, and cop cars lined the road like a barricade.

Your heart pounded as you pulled to a stop, barely managing to put the car in park before you stepped out. Your house was the center of the commotion, its front door hanging ajar. Officers milled about, some talking into radios, others examining the scene.

Anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting, pushing past the confusion. Your house was supposed to be your safe space, a sanctuary. Now it looked like a crime scene.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded, striding toward the nearest officer.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the officer said, holding up a hand to stop you.

“This is my house!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Detectives swarmed your house, tearing through your things, rummaging through your personal items with no care for your privacy. Bags of evidence piled up on your kitchen table, and a detective nearly barreled into you.

You froze in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest. Among the chaos of the ransacked house, the sight of Bakugo and Kirishima arguing in front of your kitchen was the last thing you expected.

“Katsuki,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

Both of them turned at the sound of your voice, but it was Bakugo who held your gaze—and the look on his face nearly stopped you cold. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable, a storm raging just beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his voice venomous and sharp enough to cut.

Your stomach twisted at the sheer hatred in his tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

Kirishima stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Hey, Bakugo, chill out for a second—”

“No,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off without looking away from you. “She doesn’t get to ‘chill out.’ Not after this.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, threatening to collapse entirely.

Kirishima noticed your stillness and laid a hand on your shoulder, but you yanked it off immediately, still frozen by Bakugo’s gaze.

“You raided my home?” 

“And I had a damn good reason to,” he snarled, his anger unrestrained.

“Why?” The words slipped out of your mouth, a mix of hurt and confusion.

Bakugo said nothing. He just glanced toward Kirishima.

“Detain her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She didn’t do anything!” Kirishima’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I said detain her. That’s an order.”

The room was spinning. Your head felt light as Kirishima reluctantly moved toward you, his hands on your wrists, but he was gentler than Bakugo. You didn’t fight him, though. You knew it would only make things worse.

“It’s okay, Kiri.” you said, forcing a smile through the tightness in your chest.

Kirishima’s expression faltered, but he complied. He cuffed your hands behind your back, ensuring they weren’t too tight.

As Kirishima gently guided you toward the door, his grip more protective than forceful, you stole one last glance at Bakugo. But he wouldn’t look at you. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his fists still trembling at his sides.

You didn’t fight, didn’t plead anymore. The truth was about to come out and you couldn't stop it. 

---

The ride to the precinct was silent.

The cuffs were uncomfortable, but you refused to let the discomfort show. You sat with your back straight, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to push away the suffocating feeling of betrayal and hurt threatening to take over.

Kirishima sat beside you, silent as well, his expression hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much after putting the cuffs on you. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, just like you could feel Bakugo’s fury burning into your skin, even though you weren’t looking at him.

Your mind was racing, replaying every moment, every word, every glance exchanged between you and Bakugo.

There was a part of you that wanted to scream, to yell at him for thinking the worst of you. But you knew that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make him see reason, or make him understand what you were trying to protect.

Kirishima’s hand on your shoulder felt comforting, but also distant.

"Y/N..." He spoke your name softly, like he didn’t want to push you further. “I know this is hard, but... you’ve got to trust me, okay? This will all get figured out."

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple, Kiri.”

"I know," he murmured. "But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The words were kind, but they did little to calm the storm inside of you. How could you explain everything? How could you make him, or Bakugo, understand that there was so much more to the story than they could ever imagine? 

“Hey, slow down a little, will ya?” Bakugo’s gruff voice cut through the tense silence, pulling your attention away from your frantic thoughts.

The driver didn’t answer. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as the car weaved recklessly through traffic. The engine roared as he pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer needle climbing past 80 mph.

Bakugo shifted in his seat, glaring at the man behind the wheel. “Did you hear me? Slow the hell down!”

But the driver wasn’t fazed. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw clenched, a sinister focus etched across his face.

Bakugo turned his attention to you and Kirishima in the backseat. “Put your fucking seat belts on. Now.”

Kirishima reached for his belt without hesitation. 

​​“I can’t,” you muttered, lifting your cuffed hands slightly.

“Shit,” Kirishima hissed, moving to help you before pausing. 

The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the car, and you saw it—

“She leaves her seat belt off.”

The barrel of a gun pressed against the side of Bakugo’s head, his reflexes too fast for most, but this time, he was trapped. The driver held the weapon steady with one hand, the other gripping the wheel as the car swerved dangerously close to the divider.

Bakugo’s ruby eyes sharpened into daggers. His growl was low and menacing, each word laced with a promise of violence. “You really wanna point that thing at me? You won’t even have time to regret it.”

“Shut up,” the driver snapped, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to catch you and Kirishima. “If anyone moves, I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Kirishima started to speak, his voice cautious. “Hey, man, let’s not—”

“Quiet!” the driver barked, his voice cutting like a whip.

“Kirishima,” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, his tone eerily calm despite the gun at his temple. “Put her seat belt on.”

“No!” the driver roared. His voice rose in panic and anger as he glanced at you. “I said leave it off! If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill you all right here.”

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Bakugo. His jaw was set, his teeth grinding audibly. The unspoken rage in his glare was enough to shake anyone to their core.

“Kats, leave it,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just... don’t.”

The car surged forward again, narrowly missing a merging vehicle. The tires screeched as the driver veered into another lane, the momentum slamming you against Kirishima. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The car was speeding recklessly now, weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. If he crashed, you knew there was no chance of survival.

You leaned closer to Kirishima, keeping your voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t hear. “8237 Alpine Avenue,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Kirishima’s brows knitted in confusion as he glanced at you.

“8237 Alpine Avenue,” you repeated, your tone urgent and unwavering. “Don’t forget that address.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze locking with his, every word you spoke heavy with determination. “If something happens to me, find the girl. She’s your priority. Do you understand? Promise me.”

His face paled, and his mouth opened to argue, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

Bakugo’s sharp voice pulled your attention back to the front. “You think you’re getting away with this?” he spat at the driver, his tone a mix of rage and scorn.

The driver sneered but didn’t respond. The tension was unbearable, and every nerve in your body screamed for an escape.

Then Bakugo’s voice cut through the chaos like a detonating bomb. “WATCH OUT!” 

The driver’s reaction was split-second—he jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. The car swerved violently, tires screeching against the asphalt. Horns blared as other drivers slammed on their brakes, narrowly avoiding the spiraling vehicle.

The world seemed to tilt as the car lost control. You felt the terrifying weightlessness of your body being thrown forward, held back only by Kirishima’s arms as he shielded you with his bulk.

“Hold on!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of metal scraping and glass shattering.

The car spun out of control, skidding sideways before tipping. The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the air as the vehicle flipped.

Once.

Twice.

Your head slammed against the side of the door, stars bursting across your vision. The cuffs on your wrists dug painfully into your skin as you struggled to brace yourself.

“Y/N!” Kirishima’s voice was frantic, his grip tightening like a vice as he tried to keep you from being thrown around the cabin.

Then two gunshots rang out next.

The sharp crack was almost drowned by the chaos, but you saw the flash of the barrel as the driver fired in panic. The bullet shattered the windshield, fragments of glass spraying like deadly confetti.

Bakugo roared, his instincts kicking in despite the chaos. He lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the driver’s wrist. The gun flew from his hand, ricocheting off the dashboard and landing somewhere in the wreckage.

The car hit the guardrail with a bone-jarring crunch, flipping one last time before coming to a grinding halt on its side. Smoke and steam hissed from the crumpled hood as the vehicle groaned under its own weight.

Silence.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Your ears rang, the sound of your own ragged breathing the only thing grounding you.

“Y/N,” Kirishima rasped, his voice pained but steady. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you choked out, though your entire body ached. Blood trickled down your temple, and your hands were trembling as you tried to move.

A groan from the driver’s seat snapped you back to reality. The man was slumped over the wheel, dazed but alive.

Bakugo, however, was anything but dazed.

He kicked open what was left of the passenger door, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he reached in, dragging the driver out by his collar and slamming him against the side of the wreckage.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who sent you,” Bakugo snarled, his voice a lethal growl.

“Katsuki!” you called out weakly, struggling to sit up as Kirishima worked to try to free you from the wreckage.

Bakugo ignored you, his grip tightening on the driver’s shirt. “Five seconds,” he hissed, raising his fist. “Then you’re gonna wish you didn’t survive this crash.”

You tried to shift, to push yourself upright, but the moment you put weight on your left leg, a sharp, searing pain shot through you. It wasn’t just pain—it was like your body refused to move, as if the limb had simply given up.

“I—I think I broke my leg,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you clutched at the car door for support.

Kirishima’s head whipped around to look at you, his expression shifting from panic to something darker as his eyes traveled down to your leg. He crouched down, his hands hovering just above the injury as he took in the sight.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his face paling. “That’s not a break. You’ve been shot.”

Your breath hitched. You glanced down at your leg and saw it—the dark stain of blood spreading across your thigh, dripping down to pool at your feet. 

The pain in your leg was unbearable now, sharp and throbbing with every heartbeat. Your body screaming at you to stay conscious even as your vision swam.

“Fuck…” you groaned again, the dizziness hitting you like a wave. “I’m dizzy…”

“Hey, no, no, don’t do that.” Kirishima’s voice cracked, his worry palpable. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Bakugo. Just hang on!”

You watched as he climbed out of the shattered car window, his movements frantic but deliberate. The muffled sound of his voice shouting for Bakugo was the only thing anchoring you to reality, though even that was fading fast.

The car felt like it was spinning, the metallic scent of blood and smoke filling your lungs. Each breath was harder than the last, and your eyelids grew heavier despite your best efforts to keep them open.

From outside, the sound of screeching tires from cars appearing and distant explosions shattered the chaotic silence. The fury in Bakugo’s signature blasts reverberated through the air, shaking the ground beneath the car. It was as though the world itself was trembling in response to his rage.

Your head lolled to the side, the edges of your vision darkening. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the roar of Bakugo’s explosions, louder now, like he was right outside the car.

And then, nothing.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

Guys I love this fic so much

CHAPTER 9: 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: 3.6k

warning: mild blood mention

an: no Bakugo mention this chapter :,(

---

FLASHBACK 

“Do you ever want kids?”

The question hung in the air, unexpected and intimate. Turning over in the bed, you met Anthony’s gaze. The golden sunlight streaming through the window bathed his face, making his sharp features even more striking and setting his green eyes aglow, brighter than you’d ever seen them.

You hummed, stalling, as you considered the question. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about it. You could vividly imagine it: children with little pieces of you running through a sprawling backyard, their laughter echoing as your husband scooped them up, tossing them over his shoulder with ease. You’d envisioned it countless times—three children, to be exact. One, the spitting image of you. Another, a reflection of your husband. And the last, a perfect blend of you both.

Yes, you’d thought about having kids more often than you’d admit. But right now? In this moment, in this life? The thought of bringing children into the chaos you lived in felt wrong—repulsive, even.

“Maybe,” you finally said, your tone measured. “It depends if I meet the right person.”

“Hm.”

His response was low, almost dismissive. The hint of disappointment in his tone didn’t escape you, though. Could you blame him? You’d essentially told him he wasn’t the one you could see yourself building a life with.

And he wasn’t. Not Anthony Moretti. No matter how far you’d sunk into this investigation—or how dangerously close you felt to him—he wasn’t someone you could ever settle down with. Being with him was like standing on the edge of a cliff, thrilling but ultimately reckless.

“I have something to show you.”

“Oh?”

Reaching over to his nightstand, Anthony opened the drawer and pulled out a framed photo. He held it out to you, the movement uncharacteristically hesitant.

“This is Milly,” he said softly. “My daughter.”

The image stole your breath. The little girl in the photo was a mirror of Anthony. Her pale skin, vibrant green eyes, and unruly chocolate curls left no doubt. She was his.

You stared longer than you should have, processing the revelation. Anthony Moretti, the enigmatic and ruthless man you were investigating, had a daughter. And no one knew.

“Your daughter?” you echoed, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yeah.” His eyes softened as his fingers brushed over the glass, as though he could reach through the photo and touch her.

You studied his face carefully. Talking about her wasn’t easy for him; the weight of it was etched in every line of his expression.

“And where is Milly?”

“She lives with her grandmother, out of state,” he said, his voice low and restrained. “Her mother died in childbirth.”

The confession hit like a punch to the gut.

“You don’t visit her?”

“No,” he admitted, the frustration in his voice barely contained. “My rights were taken away a few months after she was born. But I swear, I’ll do everything in my power to get her back.”

There was an edge to his tone—sharp, unsettling. It wasn’t just determination; it was the kind of resolve that promised he’d tear through anyone who dared to stand in his way.

“I’m not trying to scare you off,” he added, his gaze meeting yours. “I just thought you should know about her.”

You reached out, your hand trailing up his bicep in a gesture of comfort. “Thank you for telling me,” you said, your voice softer now. But even to your own ears, it sounded forced—to deliberate for the intimacy of the bedroom.

Anthony was letting you in, piece by piece. 

“Do you have a picture of her that’s not in a frame?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

His brows furrowed slightly, as though the question surprised him. He hesitated for a moment before reaching into the same drawer and pulling out a small, worn envelope. From inside, he retrieved a single photograph, its edges creased and faded from handling.

“This one’s my favorite,” he said, passing it to you.

The image was candid, clearly taken on a whim. Milly stood barefoot in the grass, holding a stuffed animal tightly to her chest. Her smile was wide and unfiltered, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“She looks so happy,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over the corner of the photo.

“She is,” Anthony said, his voice barely above a whisper. “At least, I hope she is. I haven’t seen her in over a year.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you. For the first time since you’d met him, Anthony didn’t seem untouchable. He looked human—vulnerable, even.

“What happened?” you asked cautiously.

His jaw tightened, and he shifted slightly on the bed, like the memory physically pained him. “Milly’s mother… she wasn’t a good person. She lied about a lot of things, manipulated people. When she died, her family blamed me for everything. Said I wasn’t fit to raise a child.”

“Why didn’t you fight them?”

“I did.” His voice hardened, frustration seeping through. “But they had connections. The system doesn’t care about the truth when someone like me is up against people like them.”

You wanted to say something comforting, but nothing felt adequate. Instead, you reached out again, this time lacing your fingers through his. His hand was warm, his grip firm yet tentative.

“I believe you,” you said simply.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like an unspoken understanding had passed between you, a crack in the wall he’d built around himself.

“I’ll get her back,” he said finally, his voice steady and resolute.

You nodded. “I know you will.”

He studied you for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the full weight of his thoughts. “You’re different,” he said softly.

“How so?”

“You don’t look at me like everyone else does. Like I’m a monster.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because, truthfully, there were moments when you weren’t sure what to make of him either.

But here, in this moment, he wasn’t a monster. He was just a man who missed his daughter.

---

When you left Anthony’s home that night, the photograph weighed heavy in your pocket—a silent confession folded neatly into your plans. You’d waited until he wasn’t looking, his attention briefly diverted, and slipped the worn image of Milly from the envelope.

It wasn’t a decision you made lightly. You told yourself it was necessary, a calculated move in the larger game. Hard evidence that could be used to build a case against him, to ensure that someone like Anthony Moretti would never have the chance to raise a child.

Still, guilt gnawed at you as you walked down the dimly lit street, your steps echoing in the stillness of the night. He had trusted you, had let you see a part of himself no one else was privy to. And you had repaid that trust with betrayal.

You pulled the photo from your pocket and unfolded it under the glow of a streetlamp. Milly’s innocent smile stared back at you, her joy untainted by the chaos surrounding her father’s life.

“This is for the best,” you murmured to yourself, though the words felt hollow.

Anthony Moretti was a dangerous man. A manipulator. A criminal. And yet, for all his faults, the way he had spoken about Milly was different. It wasn’t the cold calculation you had expected; it was raw, heartfelt, and full of desperation.

But desperation could lead people to do terrible things. And you couldn’t let Milly’s future be another casualty of her father’s world.

As you tucked the photo back into your pocket, you made a promise to yourself: you’d do whatever it took to ensure Milly grew up far away from Anthony’s shadow.

The investigation wasn’t just about taking down Anthony Moretti anymore. It had become personal.

PRESENT

“We can't go straight to the hotel. It’s not safe.”

“We’re not,” You replied, your tone clipped. “But we have to make a stop first.”

Without another word, you grabbed James’ phone from the cup holder and entered an address you’d memorized a hundred times, hoping you’d never need to use it. But now, the time has come.

“Just take me here. It won’t take long,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt.

Reaching into the backseat, you pulled out a duffel bag and rummaged for a pair of hoodies and sweatpants. As you began unzipping your bloodstained hero costume, James shot you a sharp look.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing. I can’t show up looking like this,” you said, gesturing to the dried blood smeared across your suit.

“In the front seat? Are you insane?”

Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “Just keep your eyes on the road.”

James sighed, muttering something under his breath about your reckless behavior, but he focused back on driving. You slipped out of the costume as quickly and discreetly as you could, pulling on the oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Wearing a bloody hero costume to this particular doorstep wasn’t an option.

When you finally arrived at the destination, your heart was pounding harder than the drive warranted. “Wait here,” you instructed James, already unbuckling and stepping out of the car.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of a porch light. It was late—far too late for an unannounced visit—but there was no choice. This couldn’t wait.

The door creaked open after a hesitant knock, revealing a woman you hadn’t spoken with in years. Her hair was streaked with gray, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of you.

“Y/N?” Her voice was soft but tinged with shock as she opened the door fully, stepping aside to let you in.

“Where’s Milly?” you asked, urgency in your tone.

“She’s asleep upstairs,” the woman replied, frowning. “What’s going on?”

You didn’t answer, instead brushing past her and heading up the familiar staircase. The woman—Patty—hurried after you, her questions trailing behind.

“Milly,” you whispered as you eased open the door to her room.

The tiny girl lay sprawled across her bed, her hair a mess of curls and her cheek pressed against the pillow. She stirred at your voice, her sleepy eyes blinking open.

“Miss Y/N?” she murmured, a bright smile breaking across her face as recognition set in.

“Hi, sweet girl.” You crouched down beside her. “Do you want to go on a little road trip?”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Yes!” she squealed, tossing off her blanket and bouncing with excitement.

“Good. Pack a bag, okay? Just a few things you’ll need for a little while.” You brushed her hair back, smiling softly.

“Okieeee!” she chirped, already diving into her dresser.

As she busied herself, you stepped back into the hallway, where Patty stood waiting at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“What’s going on, YN?” she demanded.

“Anthony’s back,” you said grimly, meeting her gaze. “And he’s after me. He knows that wherever I am, Milly isn’t far.”

Patty’s face paled. “You told me we were safe here. Milly has school—her friends. We can’t just leave!”

Taking her hands in yours, you spoke with quiet urgency. “Patty, please. I’ll keep you both safe, I promise. But I need to get you somewhere secure until Moretti is gone for good.”

Her lips trembled. “And how long will that take?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, hating how uncertain you sounded. “But you have to trust me.”

For a moment, Patty said nothing, her expression flickering between fear and resolve. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the situation.

“Fine,” she said softly. “But this better not take long.”

“It won’t,” you promised, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve.

You turned back to the room, where Milly was proudly holding up an overstuffed backpack. She looked at you with unshakable trust, her innocent faith driving a fresh wave of determination through you.

“Let’s go, sweet girl,” you said, reaching for her hand.

You were running out of time, and Anthony Moretti wasn’t far behind.

---

James glanced at you through the rearview mirror as you helped Milly into the backseat, strapping her in securely. Her backpack sat on her lap, nearly as big as she was, and she clutched a small stuffed rabbit tightly in her arms.

“You care to explain what’s going on now?” James asked, his tone sharp but low enough to keep from alarming Milly.

“Not here,” you replied curtly, sliding into the passenger seat. “We need to get moving first.”

Patty sat in the back seat, her arms wrapped around herself, watching with an expression that was equal parts fear and helplessness. You gave her a reassuring nod through the rearview mirror, though the lump in your throat made it hard to believe your own confidence.

As James pulled away from the curb, you glanced back at Milly, her bright eyes fixed on the passing streetlights. She didn’t ask questions, trusting you completely, and that trust was heavier than anything you carried in your bag.

James finally broke the silence. “So, Anthony Moretti is back. Care to explain why we’re suddenly kidnapping a child and her stuffed rabbit in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not kidnapping,” you shot back, keeping your voice even for Milly’s sake. “I’m protecting her.”

“From Moretti?” he pressed, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

James sighed, his frustration palpable. “You can’t keep dancing around this. You’ve got to tell me the whole story, Y/N. What’s Milly to Moretti? What’s she to you?”

You hesitated, stealing another glance at Milly. She was still staring out the window, her little fingers tracing patterns on the foggy glass.

“She’s his daughter,” you said finally, the words heavy in the confined space of the car.

James’ reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale, his jaw tightening as he processed the revelation. “His daughter? And you’ve been hiding her all this time?”

“Not exactly,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I’ve been making sure she stays safe. Patty and I worked out a plan before I left for America. Milly doesn’t know who her father is, and it’s going to stay that way.”

James shook his head, his disbelief evident. “You really think you can outrun him? You think Moretti’s going to stop looking?”

“I don’t care what it takes,” you snapped, your tone firmer now but still quiet. “Milly is staying safe, and Moretti is staying as far away from her as possible.”

James glanced at you again, his skepticism clear, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to try to change your mind when you were this determined.

“Where are we headed, then?” he asked, his tone resigned.

“There’s a safe house,” you said. “It’s a few hours out of the city. No one knows about it, not even Moretti.”

James nodded, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

In the backseat, Milly yawned, her tiny voice breaking the tension. “How far is the road trip, Y/N?”

“Not too far, sweet girl,” you replied, forcing a smile. “You can take a nap if you want. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, snuggling into her seat with her stuffed rabbit.

The car settled into a tense silence as the city lights faded behind you, replaced by the dark stretch of highway. Milly’s soft snores were the only sound, her tiny frame relaxed in sleep.

“You really think this is going to stop him?” Patty asked after a while, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s a start,” you replied, staring out the window. “Moretti won’t stop until he finds me. But if he thinks I have Milly with me, I can keep him off your trail. I’ll make sure he never gets close to her.”

“And if he finds you?” she pressed, her voice cracking slightly.

“Then he deals with me,” you said simply, your tone colder than you intended.

Patty flinched slightly, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her gaze to the road ahead, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

The miles stretched on, the car filled with an unspoken tension. You reached out to adjust Milly’s blanket, your heart squeezing at the sight of her peaceful face.

Whatever it took, you would protect her. Anthony Moretti would have to go through you first.

---

The car pulled off the highway onto a narrow, winding road bordered by tall trees that swayed in the night breeze. The gravel crunched under the tires as James slowed to navigate the uneven path. Ahead, the silhouette of a modest cabin came into view, tucked deep within the woods and shrouded in darkness save for the faint glow of a single porch light.

“This is it?” James asked, cutting the engine and glancing at you.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice low. “It’s safe. No one knows about it.”

You turned to Patty, whose fingers were clenched tightly around her bag. Her unease was palpable, but she nodded silently, steeling herself.

“Let’s get inside,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out into the cool night air.

Milly stirred as you gently lifted her from the car. She blinked sleepily at you, her curls sticking to her damp forehead. “Are we there?”

“We’re here, sweet girl,” you said softly, brushing her hair back. “Let’s get you inside and back to bed.”

James carried Patty’s bag as you led the group up the porch steps. The wooden boards creaked under your weight, and you felt a brief surge of paranoia, your eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement. But the woods were quiet, the only sounds were the rustling leaves and distant calls of night birds.

Fishing a key from your pocket, you unlocked the heavy door and ushered everyone inside. The air smelled faintly of cedar and dust, the cabin untouched for months.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” you said, flipping on the lights. The warm glow revealed a simple but cozy interior: a worn sofa, a small kitchen with a table for four, and a staircase leading to the second floor.

Patty set her bag down by the couch, looking around uncertainly. “It’s... small.”

“It’s safe,” you corrected, gently setting Milly down on the couch. She clung to her stuffed rabbit, her eyelids already drooping.

“You’ll both have the upstairs bedroom,” you added, turning to Patty. “It’s got a lock on the door and plenty of space for Milly to sleep comfortably.”

Patty nodded, her expression softening as she crouched down to stroke Milly’s cheek. “Come on, honey, let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay,” Milly mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion. She reached for Patty, and together they ascended the stairs, disappearing into the room above.

James leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms as he studied you. “What’s the plan now?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’ll stay here with them for a few days, make sure everything is secure. I’ll go back and deal with Moretti myself.”

“You really think that’s going to work?” he asked, his skepticism clear.

“It has to,” you said firmly. “I can’t let him near her, James. You’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

James nodded slowly, though his expression remained troubled. “Alright. But if you’re going to face him, you’re going to need help. You can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll figure it out,” you said, though the weight of your words felt heavier than ever.

The cabin was quiet now, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards above. You leaned against the wall, staring out the window into the dark woods. Anthony Moretti was out there, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he made his move.

For now, though, Milly was safe. And that was all that mattered.

MORETTI'S POV

The night was alive with the sound of rain hitting the pavement as Anthony Moretti stood in the shadows of a dimly lit alley, his dark coat blending seamlessly into the night. The soft glow of his cigarette illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his green eyes. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around him like a predator waiting to strike.

“She took her,” Anthony growled, his voice low but dripping with menace.

The man standing opposite him, a wiry figure with nervous eyes, nodded quickly. “Yes, boss. The girl and the grandmother both. They cleared out right before we got there. She must’ve had a backup plan.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening around the cigarette until it crumbled in his fingers. He dropped the remnants to the ground, grinding them under his heel.

“Of course she did,” he muttered, his mind racing. “She’s too clever to leave anything to chance.”

“What do you want us to do?” the man asked cautiously.

“Find them,” Anthony said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t care how far she runs or how well she’s hidden. I want every contact, every ally she has tracked down. If she thinks she can take my daughter from me, she’s got another thing coming.”

The man nodded again, already backing away, eager to escape Anthony’s wrath.

“Wait,” Anthony called, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yes, boss?”

Anthony stepped closer, his towering presence forcing the man to shrink back. “This isn’t just about finding them. It’s about sending a message. If anyone tries to help her, they’ll regret it. Do you understand?”

The man swallowed hard and nodded. “Understood.”

“Good,” Anthony said, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Now get to work.”

As the man disappeared into the night, Anthony remained in the alley, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. He could still see your face, the defiance in your eyes as you stood your ground against him. It was infuriating—and intoxicating.

But this wasn’t about you. This was about Milly.

His daughter. And he would do everything in his power to find you both.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

Saving this for later

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝚿 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

★ 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️ playlist

Where a daughter of Aphrodite and the son of the sea god are destined for an epic romance for the ages. But in a cruel twist of fate the Gods are infamous for, only one is meant to live past sixteen. Percy will stop at nothing to defy the Fates and save the girl he loves from becoming another Greek tragedy

Pairings: Percy Jacson x fem!oc

© 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯 & 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 + 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘭𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴

·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•·̊‧̥⋆͙˖̍̊•

00. the girl with everything but time

01. panic at the disco... no, really

more to be added . . .

wishing all artists a very sincere "get weirder with it" this coming year

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.

I’m dying this is adorable

silent watcher, louder heart

synopsis: there’s something about the way you move, the way you hold your daughter, that leaves katsuki wordless.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: nothing makes me happier than dad bakugou and happy new year everyone

the soft rustling of leaves outside filters through the cracked window, mingling with the faint cries of a baby—your baby.

the sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the living room, where you sit cross-legged on the floor, gently cradling your child.

the sight is mesmerizing, even to him—a man who’s seen explosions tear through buildings, fire rip apart the darkness, and yet nothing compares to this.

katsuki leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp crimson eyes fixed on you and your baby.

he doesn’t say anything—doesn’t even clear his throat to announce his presence.

he just stands there, silent and steady, watching.

your fingers move deftly, smoothing out the soft folds of your baby’s blanket. your voice is a quiet murmur, a melody only meant for the tiny ears that listen so intently.

“there you go, sweetie. all cozy now, aren’t you?” she gurgles in response, kicking little legs as if to agree.

you giggle softly, the sound light and airy, and katsuki feels something in his chest tighten.

it’s been months since the two of you brought this tiny human into the world, but he still isn’t used to the sight of you like this—radiant, tender, an embodiment of warmth and care.

he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. not that he’d ever say it out loud.

“y/n,” he finally says, his voice gruff but not unkind. “you’re spoilin’ her, y’know.”

you glance up, startled at first, but the sight of your husband leaning in the doorway makes your lips curve into a smile.

“and who exactly taught me how to spoil her, huh? wasn’t it you, bakugou katsuki, who bought her that ridiculously overpriced onesie with the baby dynamight logo?”

he scowls, the tips of his ears turning red. “that was different.”

“of course it was.” your teasing tone makes him bristle, but he doesn’t move. he stays rooted in place.

d/n lets out a small coo, her tiny hand reaching up to grab at the air. you shift her in your arms, guiding her chubby fingers toward one of her toys.

she babbles happily, her eyes wide and curious, and katsuki feels his heart stutter.

how the hell did he end up here—married to you, father to this perfect little bundle of energy?

“she’s gettin’ big,” he mutters, stepping into the room.

his heavy boots make the wooden floor creak, and he almost winces, instinctively lightening his steps as he approaches.

“she is,” you agree, not taking your eyes off your little girl. “she’s growing so fast. I feel like I’ll blink, and she’ll already be running around, causing trouble.”

katsuki snorts, settling down onto the couch. “if she’s causin’ trouble, that’s definitely your fault.”

“oh, really? because I’m the troublemaker in this relationship?” you glance at him, raising an eyebrow.

“damn right, you are.” he leans back, arms draped over the backrest, but his eyes stay on you.

“don’t think I’ve forgotten how you were always stirrin’ shit in high school. sneakin’ into the common room to steal snacks, callin’ me an idiot every time I told you to quit it.”

“hella ironic coming from you house-arrest, and I wasn’t stirring anything,” you protest, feigning innocence. “I was keeping life interesting.”

his brow twitches. “yeah, well, you’re passin’ that on to her,” he says, nodding toward the baby. “she’s got your attitude, y’know.”

“oh, so now she’s my responsibility when she’s being difficult?”

“she’s always your responsibility,” he shoots back, smirking. “you’re the one who decided to marry me, remember? you signed up for this.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. “and yet, somehow, you’ve manage to make it worth it.”

the corners of katsuki’s mouth twitch, the beginnings of a smile threatening to break through.

but instead of replying, he focuses on d/n, who’s now clutching her toy with surprising determination.

“she’s strong,” he says, his voice softer. “got a good grip for a runt.”

“she gets that from you,” you reply, brushing a kiss against your baby girl’s forehead. “I think she’s going to take after you in a lot of ways.”

“hope not,” he mutters, his gaze clouding for a moment. “don’t want her growin’ up with my temper.”

you frown, sitting up straighter. “katsuki—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “I’m just sayin’. she’s better off with your patience.”

you pause, studying him carefully. for all his bluster, katsuki has always been his own harshest critic. he sees himself as flawed, rough around the edges.

but you’ve never seen him that way—not for a second.

“she’ll have the best of both of us,” you say firmly, holding his gaze. “and she’ll be okay because she has you as her dad.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his eyes flicking down to d/n instead. she’s staring at him now, her big, innocent eyes locked on his face.

katsuki reaches out, hesitating for just a moment before gently brushing a finger against her tiny hand. she grabs it immediately, her grip surprisingly strong, and he lets out a quiet chuckle.

“feisty little thing,” he hums.

he then leans back against the couch, watching as you lift her onto your shoulder, patting her back in a soothing rhythm.

she lets out a small yawn, her tiny body relaxing against you, and katsuki feels that familiar warmth spreading through his chest.

it’s moments like these that remind him why he fights so damn hard—why he throws himself into battle with everything he’s got.

because at the end of the day, he gets to come home to this.

to you. to her. to a life he never dared to dream of.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

Why are my eyes sweating

— I’ll be home for Christmas

it's the annual friend circle christmas party, hosted at kirishima and mina's apartment. the only downside? your boyfriend, bakugo, is stationed overseas for hero work, so this year, you'll be celebrating through a screen. at least, that's what you're expecting.

✮ content. pro hero!bakugo + pro hero!reader. christmas magic and fluff. :) a special present for my elf @lady-lauren as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa exchange. ♡ ♡ ♡

✮ word count: 1.1k.

Christmas Eve, the night of a traditional Christmas dinner with all of your closest friends. A pot luck buffet, secret Santa exchange, and plenty of laughs through the night as you all reminisce over your lives. There’s just one thing that’s missing this year — Bakugo. Well, missing in person.

It was an opportunity of a lifetime, one he couldn’t turn down, no matter how much he argued against it. An esteemed agency in California was accepting applications for international transfers as part of the new “Heroes Around the World” program. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful, or even uninterested, but Bakugo’s biggest fear was being alone. Being away from you, especially in another country. After many nights spent hyping him up to take the chance, he accepted the offer. Before you two knew it, he was jetting off to the USA for three months.

And, unfortunately, three months turned to six.

Bakugo’s not coming home until March. The US commission was so impressed by his skillset (because why wouldn’t they be?) and wanted him to train an entire new wave of sidekicks by crafting a program to mimic Japan’s Hero protocols. You couldn’t bring yourself to be selfish and have him come home, no matter how much you missed him. So, you two made it work — 17 hour time difference be damned. Early morning voice notes, late night video calls, quick texts and even little homemade letters from time to time. Bakugo became fond of your hand written letters, especially when the paper would faintly smell of your perfume or have traces of lipstick kiss marks.

When you show up to Kirishima and Mina’s home, they welcome you with open arms, chirping how they’re happy you came and how much they’ve missed you.

Everyone starts arriving over the next hour, greeting you with warmth and love like always. It’s not long until their apartment is jam packed with all of your closest friends, shuffling around the kitchen with delicious food and drinks. Everyone shoves a present under the tree in the living room for later, truly adding a layer of joy to the atmosphere. Your heart aches softly as the night progresses, missing Bakugo’s hand on your thigh under the table or around your shoulders as you chat and laugh with everyone. The plan is to have Bakugo video call Kirishima’s phone during the secret Santa exchange, that way he’d still be included when everyone swapped presents. It’ll be 2AM for him, but he insisted it’s fine.

There’s a little pang in your chest when you look under the luminescent tree in the living room and see the one with his handwriting for Jiro. ‘To: Ears — Love: Kats’ with a skull drawn next to it. It’s endearing to see his love for your friends extend across the sea so effortlessly. Midoriya takes a seat next to you on the couch before everyone else meanders into the living room for the secret Santa exchange. His eyes gleam when they meet yours, a smile tugging on his lips and accentuating the freckles on his cheeks. “How are you doing?”

You nod and tilt your head with a soft smile of your own. “It’s nice to get out and be with friends. Being home for the holidays without Katsuki was starting to get to me.”

Midoriya’s eyes soften. “I know it’s hard. Only a few more months!” Before you get a chance to think too deeply about it, Kirishima claps his hands to get everyone to quiet down.

“Alright guys! Time to exchange presents.” He pulls out his phone and sets it on the dock by the TV, the little screen displaying a pending ‘Call’ screen. It’s not long before a familiar face appears, the room erupting in a hearty cheer.

“Bakugo!”

“Shut up, don’t all yap at once!” Bakugo grumbles with a grin on his handsome face. It seems his eyes find you in the room as you shoot him a little wave, his grin settling into a longing smile. “Kirishima, get things rollin’ before my ass falls asleep.”

The room chuckles as gifts are starting to be exchanged, anything from cute pairs of socks to video games to awkward stocking stuffers. No other presents are lining the tree skirt after a half hour of celebration, but you’re left empty handed. It’s awkward, to say the least.

“Are we missing one?” Kirishima questions with a frown. “There’s no way we left you out.”

Bakugo’s face sours on the phone screen, immediately upset that you’re excluded from the tradition. “What the hell? Someone better fess up. Don’t screw with my girl’s Christmas.” Suddenly, the video freezes and hangs up, leaving everyone silent as they turn towards you. How the hell could this happen?

“Why don’t you check the entryway?” Mina advises. “Maybe it was left there by mistake.”

You stand from the couch with defeat, sulking toward the door to double check. Who had you for secret Santa? Did they not know what to get for you, or were you truly forgotten? After a quick glance in the doorway, you come up short. Guess you won’t be getting a gift this year after all.

When you return to the living room, everyone seems to be staring at you with an apologetic look on their faces. Your head is hung low, aimlessly wandering back to the couch as you plop back down on to the plush fabric.

“No luck,” you whisper. “It’s okay, though. It’s not a big deal.”

The room is silent until someone speaks up.

“Look again.”

Wait. You know that voice.

It has you whipping your head up, looking around desperately to be sure you’re not hearing things. Like magic, Bakugo appears from behind the Christmas tree in the living room, his cheeky smirk illuminated by the bright string lights.

“Merry Christmas,” Midoriya whispers next to you, his eyes glossing over with emotion. “Sorry for tricking you!”

Before you know it, you’re launching off the couch and skipping over to Bakugo, throwing your arms around him excitedly. He picks you up, swinging around in soft circles, squeezing you tight enough to take your breath away. Once he sets you down, you pull back to look at him.

“Katsuki, how—”

Bakugo cuts you off with a kiss, cradling your face in his hands. After a moment, he releases you, all the love in your body flourishing at his touch.

“Commission gave me five days off. M’all yours,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Izuku pulled some strings to get those corporate assholes to approve it.”

You turn toward Izuku, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before burrowing your face into Bakugo’s chest. God, you’ve missed the way he smells, his warmth…everything about him.

“Okay you creeps, stop starin’ already,” Bakugo jests to the group. Everyone shouts with glee, the party continuing in full swing with the whole family together — at last.

This is a Christmas you’ll never forget.

Merry Christmas, Lauren!! I hope you enjoyed it. With much love from your secret Santa, Rei <3

@slayfics @maddietries @liluvtojineteyam

@Yoyolovesdaiki @catsoupki @purplescorpi0

@jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata

@www-marianette-org @obsessedpersona @kirishimaeijiromyman

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@unriding @sylushi @darhinadadragon

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

:)

He might be mine too bc everytime I fall out with a man boy, I come back to him

he might be the love of my life

RELEASEEEE MEE. REELEEAASSEE MEEEEEE.

how i look at my screen after y/n just got called kitten/puppy/bunny

A Night With You || Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

CW: N/A

Rating: SFW

Desc: Domestic cuddling and comfort fic

Like this fic? Reblogs > likes, though both are appreciated!

Bakugou entered the house, slipping off his shoes by the door. The day had been long, but he was home now, and that was all that mattered. He headed straight to the kitchen, grabbing a yogurt cup from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer next to it. He could feel the quiet that hung in the air, the kind of silence that seemed to weigh heavily on everything around him.

Carrying the yogurt down the hall, he paused outside your bedroom door. The soft sound of your crying made his stomach twist in knots. He stood there for a moment, unsure, but eventually pushed the door open.

You were curled up in bed, a small figure swallowed by the blanket, your shoulders shaking with each sob. Bakugou's heart tightened, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he walked over and sat on his side of the bed, setting the yogurt cup and spoon on the bedside table. The room was heavy with the quiet except for the sound of your crying. He wasn't one for big, emotional speeches, and you both knew that, but the silence stretched on longer than he expected.

"What happened this time?" he asked, his tone less harsh than usual, but still covered with frustration. He hated seeing you like this, but he never quite knew what to say to make it better.

You only cried harder, burying yourself further into the covers as if you were trying to disappear. Bakugou let out a frustrated sigh as he laid down beside you, his body instinctively reaching for yours, but he paused.

"Can I touch you?" he asked, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. It wasn't a question he asked often, but he knew you needed comfort, and that was how he would give it.

You nodded, not knowing what would come out if you spoke. He wrapped his arms around your shaking figure, pulling you into his chest. For a few moments, the world outside of the two of you disappeared. You peeked your head out from under the covers, tears still streaming down your face. Bakugou stared at you, his expression as serious as ever, but if you looked close enough, you could see the concern in his eyes. He wasn't good with words, but he knew how to make you feel safe.

You buried your face in his chest, crying harder, the weight of everything pressing down on you. His arms tightened around you, not in a crushing way, but in a way that promised he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

The minutes passed in the quiet of the room, the two of you simply existing together. His warmth comforting you in a way that words couldn’t. You didn’t need to speak for him to understand. He wasn’t perfect, and neither were you, but in that moment, you knew you had each other. No matter what, you always would.

@ sober ( wc 4k )

☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

@ five in the morning

☆ ( pro-hero!katsuki x reader ) — you just wanted to surprise your boyfriend with breakfast | suggestive

@ tenderly, tragically

☆ ( pro-hero!katsuki x reader ) — aftermath of a huge argument; you can never stay away for too long | angst & fluff

@ no one else’s

☆ ( thirdyear!katsuki x fem!reader ) — katsuki already has plans once you graduate | suggestive

@ let me

☆ ( prohero!katsuki x fem!reader ) — you underestimate how gentle katsuki can be, if you needed it | smut

@ late evenings

☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — katsuki just missed you | suggestive

@ needy

☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — katsuki’s kink is you asking for it | smut

@ husband of the year

☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — in your defense, who would've thought he would barge in while you're at work? clearly not you.

@ reason

☆ ( thirdyear!katsuki x reader ) — your boyfriend breaks up with you, and katsuki doesn’t waste opportunities | suggestive

@ wearing his merch

☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — requested | suggested

CHAPTER 8: 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: 2.8k

warning: Violence, mentions of blood, knives/stabbing.

---

Since the night of the hero gala, you and James had thrown yourselves headfirst into the Moretti investigation. The memory of that evening—the balcony, Bakugo’s wounded expression, and his retreating figure—played on an endless loop in your mind, but you shoved it down, burying it beneath layers of work and sleepless nights.

You’d left the gala alone, and since then, Bakugo had been a ghost. He didn’t show up at the gym during your usual hours, and you hadn’t dared to reach out. You figured he needed space, and honestly, you didn’t blame him. If he hated you, you deserved it. After all, you had rejected him in the cruelest way, withholding the truth under the guise of protecting him.

Now, every waking moment was devoted to unearthing the evidence you needed to take Moretti down. You told yourself it was for justice, for closure, but deep down, you knew it was also for Bakugo. You needed to make things right. To come clean, to apologize for the lies, and maybe, just maybe, to give him a reason to forgive you.

One long, grueling night, James managed to secure access to confidential Japanese case files—likely crossing a few legal boundaries in the process, but you didn’t care. Laws and rules seemed inconsequential when the only thing that mattered was unraveling the threads of Moretti’s web.

The files contained a chilling revelation. The man with the tattoo on his wrist—the one burned into your memory—was linked to a series of brutal murders in Musutafu. Innocent women, each life stolen with a message carved into the crime scenes that only you could understand. The weight of it crushed you, the realization that these killings weren’t random. They were warnings. Moretti was taunting you, forcing you to see his reach, his cruelty, and his power.

The guilt was suffocating. Every face in those files felt like another strike against your resolve, but you couldn’t let it break you. You wouldn’t. The pain was a reminder that you were on the right path, that you had a chance to end this. And now, finally, you had something to go on.

The new information gave you a flicker of hope —a trail of locations and timestamps where Moretti’s men had been sighted. It was the first solid lead you’d had in weeks, and it was enough to rekindle the fire inside you.

Your hero costume still fits like a second skin, the all-black material hugging your body with an almost suffocating precision. The suit’s sleek fabric molds to your frame, firm and supportive—like it’s designed just for you, like it was made to measure. You had always admired the way the costume looked, and now, years later, your vision seemed to reflect everything you had become: strong, sleek, and dangerous. The mask that covered your face didn’t leave much for anyone to see, except your eyes—piercing, determined eyes that told anyone in your path exactly who they were dealing with.

It’s been six long years since you last wore it. Six years of training, of staying hidden, of learning to control a power so dangerous you feared it more than anything. But tonight, slipping into the familiar black fabric and feeling it stretch over your body, you couldn’t help but feel that rush of energy surge through your veins. It never got old. The suit felt like home, like a part of you, and the weight of the mask reminded you of everything you had fought to become—and everything you had left behind.

As you pull on the gloves, the cool metal of your utility belt clicks against the fabric. You can’t help but admire the intricate stitching that runs along your waist, the design perfect down to the finest detail. The fabric is laced with minerals, rare and strong, designed to help control your quirk. The quirk that you never fully trusted.

Your quirk, gravity manipulation, gives you the power to shift and bend forces of weight, to manipulate objects, people, and even entire structures. It’s the kind of power that could move mountains or level them, depending on your emotions. When you’re calm, you have control—but when you’re upset, when anger and fear take hold, your quirk becomes a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. That’s what happened the night you blacked out and woke up with a bleeding head, unable to recall anything.

Training has made you cautious, teaching you to keep your emotions in check. Years of discipline and self-control have allowed you to control it, but you always feared that if you lost that control, everything would come crashing down. But tonight, you hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Tonight, you needed to keep your head.

After weeks of silence, you’d received a tip—a whisper on an old, secured landline that one of Moretti’s men would be at a bar tonight. The man was important, connected, and you needed to know where Moretti was. So you and James decided to follow the lead. He had urged you to involve the pros again, but you quickly shut that down. 

The car in the alleyway feels like a cage, your hands gripping the leather seats as you watch the shadows stretch across the pavement. The waiting game never gets easier. It gnaws at you, especially tonight, knowing that the man you’re hunting could be anywhere. Anxiety coils tight in your chest, the thought of confronting a ghost from your past, churning your stomach.

“How long have we been sitting here?” James asks from the passenger seat, his voice low but edged with a hint of impatience. His eyes flicker toward the bar’s entrance.

“Two hours,” you answer, your voice steady but the tension in your muscles betraying you. You’re not letting your nerves show, but inside, you feel like a coil ready to snap. “He won’t leave yet. We haven’t missed him.”

James glances at you, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I can go with you.”

“No,” you say sharply, the word final. “I’ve got this.”

You stare at the bar’s entrance, your eyes narrowing. Isaac. The name rolls off your tongue like poison. Isaac, blonde-haired, with the face of a man who has seen too much. He was Moretti’s right hand for years, and you knew him all too well. His cold, calculating eyes never missed a thing, and his loyalty to Moretti was only rivaled by his ruthlessness.

Your instincts tingle. He’s here. You can feel it. A subtle weight in the air, the tension building in your bones. It’s like a sixth sense, honed from years of practice. You don’t know how you know, but you trust it.

Then, like clockwork, he steps out from the bar, his sharp profile cutting through the neon lights. He stands on the sidewalk for a moment, glancing around before shouting for a taxi.

Your heart pounds. This is it.

Without a word, you unlock the car door and slide out, ignoring James’s muttered warning. “YN, stop! Stay in the car!” His voice is laced with concern, but you don’t hear him. You’re already striding toward Isaac, your body moving with purpose.

Isaac doesn’t notice you at first, too busy fidgeting with his phone, but as soon as he slides into the cab, you’re there. You don’t hesitate. You pull open the door, stepping into the cab with a practiced fluidity that only someone like you can manage.

“Hey, this is my cab!” Isaac barks, but you don’t flinch.

You glance at the driver, your expression cold and unwavering. “We’re sharing,” you say smoothly, tossing a few bills into the front seat. “Take me up the block. Doesn’t matter where.”

The driver, clearly unbothered by the tense atmosphere, nods and shifts the car into drive. Isaac remains blissfully unaware, but that doesn’t last for long. You slide a knife from your belt, its cold steel glinting under the low lights.

“Say one word, and I’ll put this knife through your crotch,” you murmur, your voice laced with venom as you hold a knife to him. 

Isaac freezes, his gaze finally snapping to you. His eyes widen and the realization slowly dawns on him. Recognition flickers in his pupils, and you see the hate burn brighter.

“I always knew you were a crazy bitch.” Isaac hisses, his voice trembling with anger and fear.

“Yeah?” you reply, “well I’m about to get crazier.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but you’re faster. With a swift movement, you grab his chin and force him to look at you. You see the fire in his eyes, the stubborn defiance, but it won’t save him.

“Tell me where Moretti is,” you demand, your tone chilling. “Or I swear, I’ll cut you open right here.”

Isaac snarls. “Fuck you.”

“Okay” Taking the knife you pull it away and plunge it into his thigh, being careful to cover his mouth. 

“Tell me, Isaac,” you growl, “Or is that man-crush of yours so strong you’re willing to lose your dick over it?”

Isaac’s jaw clenches, his eyes flickering with defiance. “You want to know where Moretti is? Find him yourself. I don’t work for him anymore.”

“Bullshit.” You twist the blade deeper into his leg.

“Now fucking tell me, or I’ll send Moretti a gift next,” you hiss, your voice dripping with venom.

Isaac’s muffled whimpers are all you hear as you give him one last warning.

“Fine!” he gasps, “He’s staying at the Musutafu motel, on the outskirts of the city.”

“If you’re lying to me,” you warn, “I will kill you.”

He’s sweating now, breathing hard, his face pale as a ghost.

The cab pulls to a stop, and you yank the knife out of his leg, leaving a pool of blood behind. The driver, still unaware of the tension in the backseat, waits for your next command.

You exit without another word, tossing a few more bills toward the driver before slamming the door behind you. As the car pulls away, you spot a black SUV pulling up beside you. You don’t need to look twice to know who’s behind the wheel.

“Well?” Tucker asks, his voice steady but with an edge of impatience.

“He’s at the Musutafu motel,” you reply, your voice curt and emotionless. You slide into the car, the bloody knife still clutched in your hand.

Tucker notices the weapon, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Don’t ask,” you mutter, slumping back into the seat. “Just drive.”

---

The crime rates had doubled in the past two weeks, ever since word of a serial killer leaked to the public. The Hero Committee had tried their best to keep the case under wraps, but someone in the department had let the information slip.

With the city spiraling into panic, the pro-heroes were stretched thin. So focused on this case, they’d nearly lost sight of everything else unraveling around them.

“Shoto, any updates on James Tucker?” Deku asked, standing at the head of the conference table. His fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, the telltale sign of an impending headache.

“Not yet,” Todoroki replied, flipping through a folder of old files. “The only intel I’ve managed to pull are outdated case records and images. If Tucker’s gone into hiding, it’s clear he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Why the hell would he be in hiding?” Bakugo snapped, slamming his hands against the table as he rose from his seat. Weeks of fruitless effort were taking their toll, and the tension in the room was palpable.

Bakugo had been more frustrated than usual lately, and everyone unlucky enough to cross his path could feel the searing heat of his anger. His temper, usually sharp and explosive, seemed to have an added edge now, as though something was festering beneath the surface. The smallest inconveniences sent him into a spiral of irritation—training dummies obliterated into smoldering debris, doors slammed with enough force to rattle the entire building, and curt, venom-laced words that made even his closest friends keep their distance.

At the agency, he barked orders more than usual, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. Kirishima, ever the peacemaker, tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood, but Bakugo’s glare silenced him before the words could fully leave his mouth. Mina would whisper to Sero, “What crawled up his ass and died?” only to quickly clam up when Bakugo’s piercing crimson eyes flicked their way.

It wasn’t just work either—his frustrations followed him home. The gym became a battleground, weights clanging loudly as he threw himself into his workouts with a reckless intensity. The punching bag in the corner stood no chance, shredded after one particularly heated session. Yet no matter how much he pushed his body to its limits, the tension inside him never seemed to dissipate.

The truth was, Bakugo wasn’t just angry. He was hurt. And the wound festered deeper than he was willing to admit.

He hadn’t seen you since that night at the gala. Since you’d looked at him with those beautiful, unreadable eyes and told him—what, exactly? That he didn’t matter? That you didn’t feel the same way? It didn’t make sense. The way you looked at him didn’t match the words you said. The way your voice trembled, the way you avoided his gaze—it was like you were running from something. But what?

The questions plagued him, chasing him into his restless nights. He hated not having answers, hated how powerless he felt, hated how much space you were taking up in his head. Damn you. Damn your stupid, gorgeous face and your laugh and the way you felt so perfect next to him that night.

But more than anything, he hated the gnawing feeling in his chest. The one that whispered he might have lost you for good.

“Actually, Kacchan,” Deku interjected, sliding a photograph across the table toward him. “I might have something.”

Bakugo picked up the image, his crimson eyes narrowing as he examined it. The picture showed a young girl, no older than eight, with wide, curious eyes and a small, cautious smile.

“That’s Anthony Moretti’s daughter,” Deku explained. “We found her in an adoption database. She’s here in Japan.”

Bakugo’s eyes lingered on the photograph, his brow furrowing. There was something about the girl that tugged at his memory.

“I’ve seen her before,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“What? Where?” Deku asked, leaning forward.

“At the gym,” Bakugo replied, placing the photo back on the table. “Y/N is her boxing coach.”

The revelation sent a ripple of unease through the room.

“Who put her up for adoption?” Todoroki asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s anonymous. Adoption records don’t disclose that information,” Deku replied.

“How old was she when she was adopted?”

“She couldn’t have been older than two,” Deku said, flipping through his notes.

“Six years ago,” Bakugo muttered, piecing things together. “Right after Moretti was arrested.” He looked up, his gaze sharp. “What about her mom?”

“There’s no record of a mother,” Deku answered, his tone heavy.

“Dammit,” Bakugo growled, his frustration mounting. “We need to find Tucker. He’s the key to this.”

Todoroki chimed in, hesitant. “Maybe... maybe Y/N knows something about the girl. She might be able to help.”

“No,” Bakugo barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not dragging her into this, and I sure as hell ain’t questioning a kid.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Time was running out, and with every passing moment, the lines between their responsibilities and their morals blurred further.

“I’ll find Tucker myself if I have to. Got a photo, Icy Hot?” Bakugo demanded, his tone sharp with determination.

Todoroki flipped through his folder without hesitation, pulling out a slightly worn photograph of James Tucker and handing it to him.

Bakugo’s grip tightened around the photo as he stared at it, his blood running cold. His entire stance stiffened, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath.

He knew this man.

The realization hit him like a freight train, his mind reeling. He’d seen Tucker before—seen him with you.

Everything started falling into place, the fragmented pieces of the puzzle forming a picture that Bakugo could no longer ignore. The explosion. Moretti’s daughter. Tucker. You.

The timeline fit too perfectly to be a coincidence.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, his crimson eyes narrowing as his thoughts raced. You were connected to Moretti—there was no doubt about that now. But how?

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

katsuki bakugou // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

if tides could speak (they'd call you home)

sleeping aid

cover shot (through the heart)

command me

pumpkin spice and everything nice

she's my wife

on my way (to you)

savvy

you wear them well

countdown

mamamatcher

you're the one that i haunt

backup

signal

you are the reason my heart is still beating

and you take me the way i am

organic chemistry

flower crown

safe haven

reinvention

a thousand petals for one unrequited love

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

gingerbread house

pairing: bakugou x reader summary: Delicate gingerbread and a hot temper? Katsuki’s in trouble.  wc: 1.2k event masterlist

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date Katsuki Bakugou. 

He was loud and abrasive, barreling ahead when he thought he was right and even though he often was, he struggled in admitting when he was wrong. He could take things too far sometimes, biting words digging deeper than he had originally meant for them to, but he was working on getting better at expressing himself. 

He was working on it. Slowly.

“I’m gonna blow this shit up, I swear.” 

“Katsuki,” You groaned, grin toying at your lips as you watched your boyfriend’s frustration bubble up over something that was supposed to be fun. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Not sparing you a glance, he let out a huff you knew meant he disagreed. 

If you had known he would have gotten so stressed over simply building a gingerbread house with you, you wouldn’t have suggested it. 

“You wanna do this? I’m gonna do it right, for you.” He grumbled, hands practically twitching as he struggled not to demolish the delicate gingerbread that seemed to be the source of all his frustration. 

“That’s actually romantic, Kats.” You teased, propping your chin on your hand to watch him work. The rest of the common area was surprisingly empty, everyone either lounging in their rooms or escaping Katsuki’s anger by running last minute errands. 

You couldn’t blame them. 

“Tch,” He kissed his teeth in annoyance, but you knew him well enough to realize he wasn’t annoyed with you. Now, the gingerbread house that kept falling apart each time he tried to get it to stick together wasn’t quite so lucky. “I’m always romantic.” 

And he was, in his own gruff way you adored, but the comment was downright laughable to an outside perspective—especially as he glared at the mess of a gingerbread house he couldn’t get to stand up on the table between the two of you. 

“It’d be so romantic of you to let me help you,” You flashed him a grin, trying to convince him to do something you knew he was too stubborn to do. And as expected, he let out a grunt of annoyance before pinning you with a glare.

“You saying I can’t do it?” His rough voice accused you of what was considered a deadly sin in your relationship—telling Katsuki he wasn’t able to do something. His hands left the three gingerbread walls he managed to prop up together to pin you with a glare, red eyes narrowed in your direction as if he was just waiting for you to doubt his ability. 

Slowly, the gingerbread house slid apart, dropping onto the plate with a thud that seemed so much louder than it really was. 

Slapping your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing, but the damage was already done. Katsuki’s jaw clenched so hard you could have sworn you heard his teeth crack, face turning red with anger. He always made a conscious effort not to yell at you, but you could see just how thin the control on his temper was getting. 

“Don’t say a word.” He grit out through his teeth, and though your hand was still clamped over your mouth to keep from laughing at the horrible timing of the gingerbread house collapsing, you nodded your head. 

His hands were gripping the edges of the table as he alternated his glare between the uncooperative gingerbread house and where you sat beside him. Deciding the biggest risk of you laughing had passed, you moved the hand from over your mouth to grab Katuski’s wrist. You felt how tense he was, and part of you distantly worried about the possibility of him setting off his quirk and damaging the table. 

Mr. Aizawa would kill you. 

“I’m not going to say anything,” You started, still unable to smooth your lips into a flat line and erase your amused smile. Katsuki was frustrated, and you laughing about his struggle—with a gingerbread house—wasn’t going to make things better. “But please let me help? They’re a pain, and this frosting is a little too runny. It makes it hard to stick.”

He was silent, at first. Blowing out a puff of air and turning his head to the side so that you couldn’t see his face. Under your touch, you felt the tension in his wrist increase slightly. 

“Wanted to make it for you,” He grumbled out, voice low. If you hadn’t been waiting for him to say anything, you would have missed it. “You know, impress you, and shit.” 

You couldn’t help it anymore. You let out a quiet laugh. 

Katsuki snapped his head in your direction so fast you laughed again, and suddenly the gingerbread house was forgotten and you were the source of all his ire. And though you knew exactly what he was capable of, you met his glare with a bright smile. 

“What’s so funny?” He demanded, clearly grump, and you leaned closer in an attempt to get in his space and try to improve his mood. And maybe tease him a little bit, if you were being honest. 

“You’re trying to impress me?” You asked, smirking. He rolled his eyes, turning away from you again. Laughing softly, you sat up a bit straighter so you could reach his face and turn him by the jaw back to you. “First off, we’ve been dating long enough that you don’t need to do that.”

He scoffed, clearly in disagreement. He really was a romantic. 

“Secondly, you think a gingerbread house is the way to go about impressing me?” You were teasing, but Katsuki’s face tinged the slightest shade of red as he refused to meet your eye. Pushing yourself forward, you kissed him sweetly in an apology for your words. Grinning, you watched as his blush only darkened with your show of affection. 

“Hold the sides,” He ordered and you knew what he meant. Never one to waste time on too many words, Katsuki had a habit of giving the bare minimum of information before launching into a task. 

Following his directions, you held two sides of the gingerbread house upright while Katsuki used the frosting to stick it together. It took a while, but eventually you got all four sides and the roof in place. Sitting back to let the frosting harden, you grinned at the masterpiece you had briefly thought would never have been finished. 

“I’m impressed,” You admitted, snorting a laugh when Katsuki rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I didn’t think it would make it through your anger.” 

“Brat,” He fired back, though you could see the trace of a smile on the corner of his lips. Grinning, you set your hand over his arm and squeezed it once to placate him. “Said I would build it for you, didn’t I?” 

You hummed, acknowledging that he had kept his word and built the gingerbread house for you. Eyeing the bare cookie walls, you knew what the next step was. And you also knew the gingerbread was far from safe.

“Ready to decorate now?”

For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Give me the damn candy.” 

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:) 🎄

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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

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TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @iissza

heeppy hoolida