GOD WHY IS HE JUST SO UGH 😩

once again why did we let masquerade balls and handwritten letters and heart lockets and daggers strapped to thighs go out of fashion

It's always

"When will fanfic writers update their stories?"

And never

"Does this fanfic writer have adequate enrichment to engage in writing behaviours?"

Fanfiction writers (Scriptor fictus) are intelligent animals who need plenty of enrichment as well as encouragement! If they're stuck in poor conditions (e.g. have studies, work, have to actually write to have something written) then they require the proper enrichment to engage in more healthy behaviours, like writing. Remember, due to poor breeding and socialisation, over half of all fanfic writers suffer from low self confidence and executive dysfunction so take care of them!

Give your fanfic writers proper care. Fanfiction writers are a life long commitment.

For those that are going to miss the eclipse on Monday, I have created a simulation of what the eclipse will look like along the path of totality

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?

the best right here

CHAPTER 12: 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: 3.2k

an: This was supposed to be 7k words but I decided to split it into two parts. The second part should be out either tonight or tomorrow morning :)!

---

The guard's grip on your arm tightened as he dragged you down the dimly lit hallway. Your shoes scraped against the cold concrete floor, each step echoing in the oppressive silence. You could barely move your leg, the sharp pain forcing you to drag it behind you. The adrenaline that had masked your injury was wearing off, and only now did you fully register the gunshot wound. The bleeding had slowed however as it only seemed to be a deep graze, the makeshift tourniquet holding firm, but it still hurt like hell. 

As you reached a heavy metal door at the end of the hall, you finally broke the silence. “You’re making a mistake,” you said, looking at the guard, who was too busy enjoying the moment to notice the warning in your tone.

The guard scoffed. “It's over for you.”

Without a word, you snapped your arm up, elbowing him hard in the stomach. The guard grunted, stumbling back in surprise. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him hesitate.

Before he could recover, you spun around, using his moment of confusion to deliver a swift kick to his knees. He crumpled to the ground, a shock of pain running up his legs.

You groaned as pain shot through your injured leg as well, nearly buckling under your weight. Instinct kicked in, and you lunged, grabbing the edge of the doorframe to steady yourself. The guard staggered, caught off balance, and you seized the moment. He was strong, but you moved faster. Your breath remained steady, your focus razor-sharp. 

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” you muttered, crouching down to make sure he wasn’t going to get up anytime soon. You pulled his gun from its holster and threw it into an empty room. Making sure he wasn't able to grab ahold of it. 

As the guard groaned on the floor, still clutching his bruised stomach, you knew you had a fleeting window of opportunity. You couldn’t afford to waste any more time—Moretti would realize what had happened soon, and when he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to send more men after you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered your options. You could run, but that would lead you straight into more of Moretti’s men and with your leg that wasn't much of an option. You had to think strategically. 

You took another breath, forcing your body to calm down. That’s when you felt the familiar, electric surge of power course through your veins—the hum of your quirk. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on the surge within you. You had to do this without hesitation. Without letting fear cloud your control. When you opened your eyes again, the air around you crackled with raw energy.

The guard had begun to stir, and you didn’t have the luxury of waiting any longer. You raised your hand, palm open, and aimed it at the metal door. In an instant, a concentrated burst of power shot from your fingertips, striking the door with enough force to send it slamming back against the wall. The impact was deafening, the metal screeching in protest.

For a split second, the guard froze, eyes wide in disbelief. But it was too late. The shockwave from the blast had knocked him flat, and the surge of power you’d released left the hallway bathed in a low, humming energy.

You didn’t stop to see if the guard would recover. Instead, you turned on your heel and bolted as fast as you could down the corridor, the lightning-fast pulses of your quirk lighting up the path ahead of you. The air seemed to part as you moved, as if the very fabric of the space had been altered by your command.

You could feel the telltale shifts in the atmosphere as Moretti’s men reacted—footsteps echoing, voices shouting orders, the tension rising. They weren’t far behind.

You fired another blast into the ceiling above, causing the ceiling to concave in on itself. You knew Bakugo would be able to blast himself out of the damage. The shock left the hallway filled with swirling electrical currents, disrupting the security systems that Moretti had relied on to track you.

The alarms went off, lights flickering erratically, and that gave you the opening you needed. With a burst of energy, you dashed into a side room, your quirk’s power surging in waves as you manipulated the energy around you to shield your movement. The air hummed and crackled, your energy wrapping around you like an invisible shield, keeping you hidden from view.

You steadied your breathing, the crackling hum of your quirk a comforting reminder that you weren’t powerless even while injured. The side room you’d ducked into was dark and cluttered with old crates and machinery—perfect for buying yourself a moment to strategize.

You crouched low, listening. The voices outside grew louder as Moretti’s men regrouped. They were searching, splitting into teams, their footsteps echoing in the corridor.

“She’s in here somewhere! Fan out!” one of them barked.

Perfect. Let them spread thin.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the currents in the walls. With your quirk, you could feel the flow of electricity running through the building—security cameras, automated locks, even the guards’ radios.

Reaching out, you latched onto the electrical grid, sending a concentrated surge into the radio frequencies. Sparks flew from the earpieces of the guards in the hallway, causing shouts of confusion and panic.

“What the hell?!”

“Radio’s fried!”

“Is she doing this? Damn it—find her!”

Using the chaos, you slipped back into the hallway, keeping low as you moved. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows, but you used them to your advantage, sticking close to the walls.

The guards were scattered now, their communication disrupted, and their coordination in shambles. One of them turned a corner, his back to you. Without hesitation, you surged forward, using the built-up charge in your hand to send a short snap to his neck. He crumpled silently, and you caught his weapon before it hit the floor.

One down.

You pressed on, your steps swift and deliberate. 

A group of guards blocked your path ahead, their backs to you as they shouted orders into malfunctioning radios. You crouched, pressing your hand to the floor. With a deep breath, you sent a ripple through the ground, the cement flooring collapsing under the guards. It hit the guards like an invisible net, their bodies locking up momentarily before they collapsed.

The air around you buzzed with static, your quirk’s energy crackling in your veins. You didn’t feel tired—yet. Adrenaline and determination kept you sharp, each movement precise.

Then, you heard it: a low hum, deeper and more menacing than before. The building’s systems were trying to reboot. Moretti was smart—he’d undoubtedly built redundancies into his security. You didn’t have much time before the lights stabilized and his men regrouped.

You pushed forward, rounding another corner, and finally spotted a heavy reinforced door at the end of the hall. 

Standing between you and the door was a guard who looked far more formidable than the others—taller, broader, and armed to the teeth. He turned as you approached, his eyes narrowing when he saw you.

“End of the line,” he said, his voice cold.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

With a sharp inhale, you let your quirk surge to full power. The air around you shimmered, and the hallway was bathed in a flickering, glow.

If Moretti thought his men could stop you, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

The guard didn’t hesitate, lunging toward you with surprising speed. You ducked under his swing, the massive fist grazing your shoulder before smashing into the wall behind you, cracking the concrete.

“You’re persistent,” you muttered, spinning away and aiming a focused blast of energy at his chest. The jolt forced him back a step, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he grinned—a feral, teeth-baring grin.

“Got some bite, huh? Let’s see how long you last.”

He charged again, faster this time. You dodged to the side, rolling into a crouch and sweeping your leg to knock him off balance. He stumbled, his bulk making him difficult to topple completely, but you weren’t giving up.

“Stay down!” you shouted, sending another burst at his arm. The crackling energy wrapped around him, making his muscles seize. His grip on his weapon slipped, and the gun clattered to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, you kicked it far out of reach.

The guard growled, clearly unwilling to back down. But before he could lunge again, a familiar explosion echoed down the hall. Smoke and debris flew into the air, and a moment later, Bakugo came charging through the wreckage, crimson eyes blazing with fury.

“MOVE!” Bakugo’s shout rang out, and you hit the ground instinctively, rolling to the opposite side of the hall just as a deafening explosion erupted. The blast sent the guard hurtling into the office door with a sickening crunch, the impact cracking the wooden frame.

“Fuck, are you good?” Bakugo was at your side in an instant, his hands cupping your face as his crimson eyes scanned you for injuries, his breathing ragged from the fight.

You pushed him slightly away, though your hand lingered on his wrist, grounding yourself in his presence. “I’m fine,” you assured him quickly, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Where’s Moretti?”

Bakugo shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know. He bolted as soon as the alarms started blaring.”

“Damn it,” you hissed, clenching your fists. You closed your eyes, trying to focus, to extend your senses outward. “I can’t feel him. Usually, I’d be able to track his presence, but there’s too much interference in the building. Too many people, too much chaos.”

Bakugo growled under his breath, his frustration as palpable as your own. 

“One of Moretti's men told me he was staying at a motel,” you said, your voice low as you motioned for Bakugo to follow you. 

“This definitely ain’t a motel, sweetheart,” Bakugo muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as his sharp eyes darted around, scanning for any incoming threats.

“Yeah, no shit,” you shot back, rolling your eyes before a thought struck you. “Wait—you weren’t blindfolded when they brought you in.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Bakugo replied, his voice gruff as he gestured down another hallway. “But this place is a damn maze. The only reason I found you was because of the guards. Made it real easy when they started screaming.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Well, we need to move. Moretti knows this place like the back of his hand, and he’ll have reinforcements swarming us any second.”

Bakugo nodded, his jaw tight as he adjusted his gloves. “Tch. Let ’em come. I’ve got plenty of firepower to deal with those bastards.”

Despite the weight of the situation, his confidence sparked a faint smirk on your lips. “I don’t doubt that,” you said, your tone softening. “But we need to be smart about this. If we can get to an exit, we’ll have the advantage outside.”

“Fine,” he agreed grudgingly, though his hands twitched with impatience. “But if we run into Moretti, I’m not holding back.”

“Neither am I,” you replied, your voice firm.

The air in the building was heavy with the scent of concrete dust and smoke, every corner steeped in shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. Your footsteps echoed faintly as you moved, your senses hyper-alert to every creak of the structure or distant voice.

Bakugo suddenly raised a hand, motioning for you to stop. He cocked his head, listening intently. “Hear that?” he murmured.

You strained your ears and caught it—a low, muffled murmur of voices coming from a corridor to your left. Your heart jumped. “Guards?”

“Most likely,” Bakugo whispered, his lips pulling into a grin that was half anticipation, half menace. “Let’s shut ’em up before they call for backup.”

You grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could rush in. “Wait. We don’t know how many there are or if they’ve got comms to Moretti. If they alert him, we’ll lose any chance of catching him off guard.”

He scowled but didn’t pull away. “Fine. Got a plan, genius?”

You nodded. “I’ll take the lead. My quirk can handle this quietly. You stay back, but if things go sideways—”

“I’m blasting the hell outta everything,” he finished with a smirk, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Exactly,” you said, your lips quirking up for a brief second before you pushed forward.

Sliding silently along the wall, you peeked around the corner. Three guards stood clustered near a door, their weapons slung casually over their shoulders. 

Drawing on your quirk, you exhaled slowly and let the power flood your senses. The world around you dimmed, leaving only the vivid threads of the guards’ presence—their heartbeat rhythms, the faint electromagnetic signals of their equipment.

One step forward. Another. The shadows seemed to ripple around you, swallowing your form as you closed the distance.

The first guard didn’t even see you coming. A quick strike to his neck dropped him silently to the floor. The second turned, his eyes widening, but you twisted his weapon out of his hands and knocked him unconscious with the butt of it in one fluid motion.

The third managed to let out a strangled gasp before Bakugo was suddenly there, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the wall. “Where’s Moretti?” Bakugo growled, his voice low and deadly.

The guard stammered, his face pale. “I—I don’t know! He’s somewhere upstairs in the west wing. Please, that’s all I know!”

Bakugo sneered and slammed him against the wall one more time for good measure before letting him crumple to the floor. He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “West wing, huh? Guess we’ve got a direction now.”

You nodded, already moving. “Let’s go. The longer we wait, the harder this gets.”

“Damn right,” Bakugo muttered, falling into step beside you. His presence was solid and reassuring, a blazing force that matched your determination.

“Shitty Hair went for backup—if he figures out where we are, they should be here soon,” Bakugo muttered, his eyes scanning the hall for any signs of movement.

“If Kirishima wanted to keep his balls, he would’ve gone straight to the place I told him to,” you shot back.

“What?” Bakugo stopped, turning to look at you.

“When we were in the car, I made him promise that if anything happened, he’d find Milly and protect her,” you explained, your voice steady.

Bakugo’s sharp crimson gaze fixed on you, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “I knew you didn’t kill her,” he muttered.

“I’m a hero, not a monster,” you replied, your tone firm but quiet.

“A hero, huh?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, keeping your focus ahead. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing you bring up over coffee. ‘Hey, I used to be a hero, faked my death, and took down some major villains.’ Doesn’t make for casual conversation, does it?”

“Tch.” Bakugo’s hands clenched at his sides, tiny sparks crackling in his palms. “And your quirk?”

“Nothing special.” you shot back, glancing at him over your shoulder. “And besides, my quirk’s not flashy like yours. It’s subtle. Perfect for staying under the radar—which was kind of the whole point after Moretti.”

He scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Subtle, huh? Looked plenty flashy back there when you were knocking people out left and right.”

You sighed, stopping in your tracks to face him. “Katsuki, this isn’t about my past. This is about stopping Moretti before he hurts anyone else. We can have the ‘what else haven’t you told me’ talk later, but right now, we don’t have time for this.”

His jaw worked, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he huffed, running a hand through his ash-blond hair. “Fine. But don’t think for a second we’re done with this conversation.”

“Noted,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you turned back down the hallway.

The west wing loomed ahead, the corridors narrowing and the air growing colder. You could feel it—a sense of finality hanging thick around you. Whatever awaited in the next room, it was clear you and Bakugo would face it together, unresolved tensions and all.

The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit and eerily silent apart from the faint hum of electricity. Bakugo stayed close, his footsteps heavier than yours as his crimson eyes darted around, searching for any sign of an ambush. You could feel the tension radiating off him—part frustration, part adrenaline—but there wasn’t time to unpack that now.

“You said you can sense him,” Bakugo muttered, breaking the silence. “What’re you picking up?”

You stopped, closing your eyes for a moment and focusing on the energy around you. It was chaotic, scattered—a mix of fear, anger, and desperation from everyone in the building. But there, buried beneath it all, was a faint, unmistakable pulse.

“He’s close,” you said, your voice low. “Two floors down, east wing. He’s not alone.”

Bakugo grinned, the kind of feral, dangerous grin that made villains tremble. “Good. The bastard won’t know what hit him.”

As you moved toward the nearest stairwell, you caught a glimpse of motion in the shadows ahead. Without hesitation, you grabbed Bakugo’s arm and yanked him back just as a barrage of bullets ricocheted off the walls.

“Shit!” Bakugo hissed, throwing up his hands and sending a concussive blast toward the shooter. The explosion rocked the corridor, and when the smoke cleared, the guard was sprawled unconscious on the floor.

“That was reckless,” you muttered, already moving to secure the guard’s weapon.

“Worked, didn’t it?” Bakugo shot back, his tone dripping with defiance.

Rolling your eyes, you pressed on, your senses sharp and your quirk humming faintly under your skin. More guards appeared as you descended the stairs, but Bakugo’s explosions and your precision made quick work of them. The two of you moved like a well-oiled machine—despite the unresolved tension, your instincts as fighters meshed seamlessly.

By the time you reached the east wing, the air felt heavier, charged with something darker. Moretti was close—you could feel his presence like a storm on the horizon.

Bakugo glanced at you, his fiery gaze meeting yours. “This is it. You ready?”

You nodded, your jaw set. “I’ve been ready for years.”

He smirked, stepping ahead and cracking his knuckles. “Then let’s end this.”

---

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

@nombakugoswife1

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.

Sounds like personal hell. How else am I supposed to fall asleep???

some people live their lives without even being obsessed with some guy. if you call that living

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is a series, so other parts will be here!

☞ Link: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

Bakugo x female reader (Slight Sero x reader)

Synopsis: When you realize you're in love with your childhood best friend, but force you're feeling's down for the sake of your friendship.

Author's note: Low-key feel like I'm losing the plot, anyhow Bakugo lore and finally an interaction with him tehe. Enjoy everyone!

The past week had been rough. Even after apologizing to Kimiko, she was still pissed. It had taken a whole lot of convincing from everyone for her to stop glaring at you, or at least pretend she wasn’t mad to your face.

She also made it clear you were out of the Bakugo setup plans. She never directly said so, but you could tell she didn’t want you around.

Not that you minded.

Mina and Jirou still kept you updated on the drama, but honestly? You were done hearing about Kimiko drooling over Bakugo.

The last thing you needed was more drama from your outburst.

Unfortunately, avoiding it wasn’t going to be easy, not with today’s plans.

The Bakusquad, along with Kimiko, had decided to get ice cream together.

You stepped out of your dorm, only to find Sero waiting for you.

“I figured we’d head down together,” he said casually.

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” you replied, smiling, falling into step beside him as you made your way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, Sero pressed the button for the common room and glanced at you. “So… you okay? I know everything with Kimiko probably got to you.”

You hesitated, then exhaled. “Yeah, I’m okay. You really helped, y’know.”

Sero smiled, his voice softer than usual. “Yeah? Well… anything for you, Y/N.”

You looked at each other for a second too long.

The warmth in his gaze made something twist in your chest, a twist that's been happening a lot lately.

Then the elevator dinged, and the moment disappeared.

Sero stepped aside, letting you exit first.

Down in the common room, the others were already gathered, Jirou, Kaminari, Mina, Kirishima… and Bakugo.

“There’s my favorite girl!” Mina grinned, bouncing over and looping her arm through yours, dragging you away from Sero.

“Finally! Let’s go, I need ice cream, like, now,” Kaminari whined.

“No, you idiot,” Jirou said, smacking his arm. “We’re still waiting for Kimiko.”

Kaminari groaned and collapsed onto the couch dramatically. “Ughhh, come on.”

After a few minutes, Kimiko finally arrived, dressed in an orange sundress that flared around her knees.

“Hey, everyone!” she chirped.

Mina gasped. “Oh my God, you look so pretty!”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, nice outfit.”

Kirishima grinned. “Looking good, Kimiko!”

Sero, much to your annoyance, looked slightly flustered, his face tinted pink.

Bakugo, on the other hand, merely tapped his foot impatiently.

“Okay, can we go now?” Bakugo grumbled.

“ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM!” Kaminari chanted, marching out the door.

Jirou rolled her eyes but followed after him.

The rest of you trailed behind, leaving campus and heading into the city.

On the way, Kimiko playfully teased Bakugo, but he barely reacted. If anything, he just looked bored.

“So, where exactly are we going?” You asked Mina.

“Oh, it’s this place called Frosty’s!”

Frosty’s?

You blinked. The name alone sent a wave of nostalgia crashing over you.

You snuck a glance at Bakugo, wondering if he remembered.

Frosty’s was... special.

You and Bakugo had first come here when you were wide-eyed kids, eager for ice cream. The place was small, family-owned, with faded walls and an old-school charm.

You both always ordered the same thing: vanilla with sprinkles. Bakugo swore his tasted better, even though they were identical.

But that wasn’t what made it special.

No, what made it special was the fact that it was where you and Bakugo had your first kiss.

You were twelve freshly into middle school. Dating and crushes had started becoming a thing, but neither of you had been interested. Bakugo was too focused on becoming N.1, and you had always been too shy to think about it.

That day, you had both been sitting outside on the worn-down bench, eating your ice cream, when he asked out of nowhere...

“Have you had your first kiss?”

The question had caught you off guard. You had licked your ice cream, avoiding his gaze.

“No… have you?”

He had muttered, “No.” Then he kicked at a loose rock on the ground, his voice unusually hesitant.

“We should just… get it over with. Y’know, so we’re not behind or whatever.”

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe curiosity. Maybe the tiny part of you that had always been drawn to him.

“…Okay.”

You had leaned in, your noses awkwardly bumping before your lips met. It was quick, clumsy, and a little embarrassing. Neither of you had ever brought it up again. Maybe because you were both mortified. Or maybe… maybe, because it had meant something neither of you were ready to face.

“Y/N?” Mina’s voice snapped you out of the memory.

“Huh?”

“What are you getting?” she asked, already holding her own cone.

You barely had to think. “Vanilla with sprinkles.”

Mina groaned. “Ugh, you and Bakugo are so boring.”

At that, you glanced over, and sure enough, Bakugo was sitting at a table, eating vanilla with sprinkles.

You shook your head fondly and paid for your order. The group headed outside, and your eyes immediately found the old bench. Without thinking, you sat down, lost in thought.

Your feelings for Bakugo.

Kimiko.

Everything.

A moment later, someone sat beside you.

Bakugo.

You both sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words settling between you. Then, without looking at you, he muttered, “You remember this place?”

Your grip tightened slightly on your cone.

“…Yeah. Do you?”

“Tch. ‘Course I do.”

A pause. Then...

“You were a horrible kisser,” he remarked.

You scoffed. “Oh, like you were any better.”

He clicked his tongue but didn’t argue.

For a moment, the air between you felt lighter. No Kimiko. No drama.

Just you and him. Just like before. Just how it'd always been.

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

Tags: @tsukikoxo @pet1t3 @anon-mouse223 @nepenthes-things @hakkoyo @ita606 @raeroowrites @dreamybabbyy @ghostkat23 @channnee @sanriihoe @ch3rryjampi3 @eyesforbkg @charlotterosea13 @chuugarettes @mtsudaa @myblogsucks @emmaafinchh @adherethecomingofage @uhsakusa @shewki @galaneiaeris @surprisemodafakas @uhnanix @ilovemushroomss @bakunianadecorazon @bonbonbytes

Callum Turner