justatypicalwizard

[justatypicalwizard]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.2

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — choking

WORD COUNT — ~3.9k

a/n: it feels weird to post chapter 2 when yesterday I finished rewriting the last one XD. my brain is a mess.

What was going on with Bakugou?

The question haunted you for weeks, day and night, gnawing at the rational side of your brain. Partially, it was Bakugou’s fault. A representative of his PR team came forward to announce a sudden, temporary break from hero work one day after you had the wonderful opportunity of meeting him. However, no date of return was provided.

Temporary? More like indefinite hiatus.

Ever since, he hadn’t been spotted once, which left you vibrating with stress. You waited for your front door to be blasted to smithereens, either by him or some other pro hero, and be arrested. Irrational, really. Thanks to your best friend and the obsessive attention you put into your disguises, your work left no traces.

Still, restlessness defined your default mood, and maybe there was a tiny part of you worrying that added to it. You hated admitting it, but your subconscious pinged your instinct with impulses of something being wrong.

That was why you were out and about at an ungodly hour; curiosity had a way of turning you stupid like that.

Sweat slid down your back under the fitted long-sleeved black top you wore as you shook the dead phone in your hand under the flickering streetlights of Bakugou’s neighborhood in the wee hours of the night. Your stupidity apparently extended to basic things like charging your phone, and now you stood, looking every bit suspicious, racking your brain for the directions the GPS displayed before the screen blinked out.

If his intention when he had bought a house in this labyrinth was to piss off the potential villains who might’ve a bone to pick with him and force them to give up out of sheer frustration, then mission successful. Why you were still trying was unexplainable. Stubbornness, perhaps. One hell of a driver.

Pocketing your deceased phone, you scanned the vicinity again for any sign of life other than yourself, the one cute cat dozing off on top of a stone fence two houses behind you, and the pesky mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly overhead.

Nothing. No one. Completely empty.

You tugged on your cap and strutted forward, sending thoughts, prayers, and hopes to the celestial objects illuminating the rooftops that you were on the right path.

Eternity passed before you finally, finally found his house. Luckily for you, his show-off tendencies bled into everything. The sophisticated metal plaque, engraved with his family name, caught the moonlight like polished obsidian, therefore, your attention.

To your surprise, his house looked…normal. A two-story, medium-sized modern property in shades of gray, with black accents that you assumed were also metal from the way light glinted off them. Surrounded by a tall concrete fence that looked like granite, and a solid gate as the entrance. Gate that was ajar.

As you inspected the rest of the exterior for the security system, your stomach sank deeper with the same dreadful feeling you couldn’t shake off. The camera above the intercom was off. You knew it the same way you knew air consisted of more than just oxygen. Bakugou wasn’t this careless, was he? He’d double—no, triple-check the security, even if his wife had probably already done it. Right?

Your instinct itched with the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and rush in, but you suppressed it. Maybe this was just a coincidence. A malfunction of sorts. Verify, then act.

Crouching with your head low, you peeked through the gap in the gate. His car was in the driveway, parked diagonally as if the space wasn’t meant for two vehicles; no sign of his wife’s. You made a face at it. His fans called it aesthetic, and you agreed about the black matte paint, but what the hell were those bright orange crisscrossed tire rims? Were they supposed to create some fiery trail effect he’d never get to flaunt because one, he couldn’t tear through the city streets like a maniac, and two, on the highway, people were too busy stepping on the gas to care about a sports car speeding past them?

You rolled your eyes. At least his car being here confirmed he was home.

You scanned the quietness one last time and sneaked in, working with the blind angle of the street camera. As you closed the gate carefully, you took in the trimmed shrubbery, the well-kept grass, and the dusty stone path leading to the front door. Only for your eyes to narrow on the digital lock.

“Unlocked?” you muttered under your breath. This was becoming stranger by the second.

A shiver skated down your spine, tensing your body. Your gaze snapped to the second floor, searching for any sign of another presence that didn’t belong here, pulse quickening and caution fading into an afterthought.

Oh, fuck it. If you got caught, you’d figure out some story. In you went.

And out you wished to go. Your hand flew to your nose and pinched your nostrils to stop your stomach from flipping sideways. The stench reminded you of the dumpster in that alleyway. Was this a home or a pigsty?

Pigsty. Definitely a pigsty.

Blurry moonlight poured into the messy living room, cluttered with toys, takeout containers, haphazardly tossed couch pillows, and spills from who knew what. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do. Nausea swirled in your stomach like clothes in a washing machine as you inhaled the foul air, focusing on each distinct aroma. The relieved breath you exhaled when you detected not even the faintest trace of iron relaxed your whole body.

You didn’t dare look at the kitchen opposite the living room and prowled further toward the staircase, careful to keep your steps light and quiet. Your impulse should’ve been to turn around and get as far away as possible from this place, not delve deeper into the home of a pro hero who was out for your head.

If Yu knew, he’d be having a meltdown, you told the void in your head, shuddering at the imagined sound of your best friend grilling you for being reckless and stupid. Yes, you were a grade one idiot tonight. But he’d be proud to know you left your belongings at home, and your pockets held your motorcycle key and your discharged phone.

No. He wouldn’t be. Ayumu would buy you a ticket for the next rocket and shoot you into space himself so he wouldn’t have to see your pathetic, down-by-your-own-hand end.

Gentle light greeted you at the top of the stairs, inviting you through the open door at the end of the narrow hallway, yet driving your heart into your throat. Faster and faster it thumped as you approached the room. You pressed your back against the cool wall and peeked inside, blinking in disbelief at the state of it. Like the living room, this space—clearly belonging to Bakugou’s daughter, with its peach-colored walls and scattered small dresses over the plush carpet—was a mess too.

What the hell happened?

You didn’t try to answer that. Instead, you craned your neck for a better look, spotting both who you were looking for and who you weren’t. Bakugou leaned against the white crib, his head drooped to the side, eyes closed. Light snores escaped his slightly parted lips. Meanwhile, his daughter, Yua, was very much awake, tugging at the minty hair of a doll, her face scrunched in concentration.

For whatever reason, a sense of relief, stronger than the earlier one, washed over you.

He was okay, so was she. They both were.

Now that you confirmed that, it was time to go, but you found yourself rooted to the spot. Your eyes wandered to her, absorbing how she was the spitting image of him. As if sensing your presence, Yua tilted her head toward you, her blonde wavy hair cascading over her tiny shoulders, ruby red eyes locking onto yours.

You gasped at being caught. She let out a curious sound, and before you knew it, Yua crawled out of her dad’s lap, away from the safety of his arms, and stumbled toward you. Your muscles went rigid as your lungs expelled the rest of your air, leaving you fixated on the small person determined to interact with you, the intruder.

“Pretty,” she babbled, a bright smile blooming on her face. Tiny fingers latched onto your pants and tugged weakly.

Time stopped. You had no idea why. Her twinkling gaze seemed to trap you in the moment, mesmerize you.

Something in her innocent curiosity awakened something new within you. This feeling wasn’t one you’d experienced before, but felt oddly natural. Following that instinct, you knelt and offered her one of your rare, sincere smiles, hoping your intrusive presence didn’t register as danger to her. You didn’t want to scare her, or worse, traumatize her in any way.

In response, hers widened into a toothy grin, despite a few of her teeth weren’t fully grown yet.

She made an eager grab at you, losing her balance, and you instantly reached out, catching her in your arms. Before you could admonish yourself, a sleepy groan drew your attention.

Bakugou’s eyes slowly opened. “Huh? Yu…a?” They grew wide at the sight of you.

It all happened so fast.

He sprang from the floor at the same moment you tried to, slowed down by your prudence to not hurt Yua. Two steps out of the room were all you managed before he tackled you to the floor. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, forcing a pained groan from your mouth, which quickly turned into a choking sound as his hand wrapped around your throat in a vicious grip, while the other ripped your cap away.

“You? What the fuck are you doin’ in my house?” His tone dripped with pure acid.

“Ba—” Panic clawed up your throat. His strong thighs pinned your arms against your body, and you squirmed, gasping for air. “C-can’t…brea…the.”

His fingers squeezed your airway harder. Tears pricked your eyes, and for the first time in ages, you tasted the metallic flavor of fear. The violent storm in that fascinating gaze swallowed every flicker of clarity. This wasn’t Bakugou Katsuki—layered, human. This was something else. Primal. Feral. Rabid.

The ferocity choking you stirred your own.

“You want to kill me?” you rasped, voice barely recognizable. “G-go on, hero. Try.” A snarl tore from your throat as you bucked hard, hips straining to throw him off.

His fingers twitched. Yours too, but you dug your nails into the carpet, fighting to hold back your quirk. You didn’t trust your brain not to retaliate in a desperate bid to survive. But you trusted his would snap the fuck out.

“If you’re going t-to—” You wheezed, struggling under his steely strength. Fucking mountain didn’t budge an inch. “Do…it. Do it, you unhinged bastard!”

Between your fight for breath and the defiant taunt you threw him, something seemed to fracture his wild state. Bakugou gasped out a ‘fuck’ and ripped his hand from your throat, slamming it beside your head as his body hunched over yours, heaving.

You broke into a violent coughing fit, clutching your throat, pain pulsing like a thousand stabbing needles. That’d leave a bruise. Great. Fucking perfect. Bakugou’s handprint for a necklace, like a twisted wish coming true. Just your luck.

“Oi. You go—”

“Pa…pa?”

Yua’s confused voice froze you both. He paled, and you saw the exact moment it hit him what he’d be staring at if he hadn’t stopped—a corpse. Your corpse. Soul gone. Forever. And his daughter would’ve been the witness.

“I—Shit. Stay right there, Yua,” he snapped, his tone whipping at the lethal tension. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, you noticed, as they frantically searched your own. What now? they seemed to silently ask.

Did he seriously expect a kid that full of curiosity to actually listen?

Lucky him, you were the one he nearly ended with his bare hands. He’d have a fun time if it were someone else.

Biting back a wince, you croaked. “Nothing h-happened here. Absolutely…nothing. Understood?” You shot him a glare, pretending you weren’t one breath away from another coughing fit. “Now, get—get off.”

Your words moved him like a puppeteer’s string. Bakugou wobbled to his feet, but not before grabbing your waist and hauling you up with him. Body to body, you felt him tremble from the shock, his heart doing worrisome things in his chest. It raced too fast, agitating your own.

“You good? Let me—”

You slapped his hand away and grimaced. “When was the last time you showered? I might’ve survived that, but I’m not surviving this. You stink.”

If your nose hairs didn’t shrivel and fall off by the end of this, it’d be a miracle.

*

After nearly getting killed, anyone else’s brain would’ve reset to a smarter mode—look for a way out, not a reason to stay. But you had questions, and Bakugou had the answers. Which he vehemently refused to give…until you flashed a sweet smile and suggested he give you the deepest bow and apologize for choking the soul out of you.

One thing led to another, and next thing you knew, you were handing him your bike key and dead phone as leverage that you meant no harm. You learned fast that his version of trust your enemy involved handcuffing said enemy and keeping them as close as possible.

Enemies might not have been the only ones he’d cuffed before, though, judging by the red, feathery lining on the leather binding your wrists to the metal bar above the blurry shower glass wall.

No surprise, the bastard was into infernal showers, but he could’ve dialed it down a bit. The air boiled, making you sweat through every fiber of your clothes, while your lungs burned through your energy resources to keep you breathing. You were positively trapped and suffocating, but at least his shampoo smelled good. Something citric.

Your forehead fell against the shower glass, eyes squeezing shut, as you desperately tried to erase the outline of his naked body from your brain. He was driving you places he shouldn’t, and as much as you liked your denial, your body didn’t care for it.

“Can you hurry up?” you shouted over the loud water stream. “If your wife shows up and finds us like this, we’re both screwed.”

“Huh?!” he yelled back. "The hell you tryin' to talk to me for? Told you to zip it!"

“If you think I want to talk with a butt naked guy with obvious anger issues, you’re delusional. But I have no choice. My face plastered next to yours is a big no-no in my book.”

The shower door was yanked open, almost flying off its hinges. Bakugou’s head peeked out, and you shot him an unimpressed look, even as your mind took notes on his hair—matted on top, dripping with the fattest globs of water. It must have been thick. 

You wanted to smack yourself when an image of something else that could fit that description surfaced in your mind.

“Oxygen reachin’ your brain? Got proof you broke in.”

You didn’t think his wife would care about that when her husband was naked, showering like it was no one’s business, with the intruder handcuffed, getting a splendid view of things meant for her eyes only.

“Not sorry to ruin it for you, but your security system is off.”

“You turned the security off?! Got a death wish or something?”

“No to the first, maybe to the second. Are you going to grant it, naked genie?”

His snarl filled the steamy air, and you couldn’t tell if you were still in a bathroom or a cave inhabited by a feral animal. He slammed the glass door shut, growled some more, and then cursed when the bottle he picked up fell from his hand.

You laughed. That bottle might as well have been his brain packing up and leaving his skull.

“Shut it, pain in my ass!” he barked, and a foamy loofah sailed over your head, splatting somewhere behind you.

“What are you, five?” Your face twisted into disgust as dying bubbles slid down your temple. Of course, in its flight, it dripped on you. Why would you be spared?

“That’s still older than you.”

“No wonder you’re dropping in the rankings regularly,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Petty brat.”

His reaction was as explosive as his general attitude. He turned off the water and swung open the door, stepping out. “Wanna say that to my damn face?”

Water dripped everywhere, and your eyes widened comically at his naked form. Your eyes screwed shut. For someone strict with his private life, he sure was shameless with a stranger.

“Hah, goin’ shy on me?” he mocked.

“Put some clothes on! This is inappropriate!”

“Yeah?” You felt him move closer, forcing you back up as much as the handcuffs allowed. “You were eyein’ my ass earlier. How’s that appropriate?”

“I wasn’t—” Your eyes snapped open, instantly regretting it. “Eyeing your…ass.”

One arm braced against the shower wall, Bakugou stared at you, something hotter than the current room temperature burning in his glare. He was too close. So close, your instinct was to step back, yet you couldn’t focus on anything other than the glistening water drops trailing down his neck, over his pulse, lower to his chest. They dissolved against the scar.

The scar…

Bakugou Katsuki is dead? That can’t be. It’s not true, right?

The voice of a younger you echoed in your head before a fragment of the memory rolled through. You, latched onto the pro hero’s arm, stopping him from doing his job. At the time, it was to guide everyone further into the safety of U.A. Surprise and suspicion created deep lines on his expression as his hand slowly dropped from his earpiece.

“What are you doin’?” Bakugou asked as you moved closer, head tilted, listening. Thump, thump, thump. Faint to your sensitive ears, but unmistakably there.

His heartbeat.

He was alive.

“Oi!”

You jerked back. “What?”

“I asked you what the hell you doin’.”

One shoulder raised, you replied. “Debating if I should headbutt you or not. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you. Who stands naked before a stranger?”

“Stranger, she says,” he scoffed, brushing past you. “That what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

Your lips pressed together, a wisp of guilt taunting your heart. He had been the last thing you thought of. Or, at least, that had been the case before meeting him in flesh and bone. One time was enough to unintentionally make space for him in your everyday thoughts.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, feeling less brave, less bold, less everything.

“Checkin’ my ass again, pervert?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, though there wasn’t much bite to it. “What’s there to check?” Still, your eyes betrayed you, gliding over the expanse of his muscled back and down to his clothed ass. “I’ve seen better.”

“Hah?!” Bakugou whipped around, clearly offended. His protests were mostly lost on you; the generous view of his V-line was far more captivating. He didn’t bother to pull his sweat shorts higher on his hips.

No, damn it.

Your moral compass had its faults, but lusting, even a little bit, over a married guy, especially this married guy, couldn’t be one of them. Appreciating his physique, strictly from an aesthetic perspective, was fine, but not the sinful ideas percolating your system.

“You listenin’ to me? Hey!” His fingers snapped in front of your face. “Pay attention before I leave you in here.”

“No, you won’t. How are you going to explain to your wife—”

“That bitch ain’t gonna show up,” he snapped. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the name-calling. His tongue clicked in irritation. “Don’t play dumb. You heard my phone conversation.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You paused, unsure of what to say.  “Uh…sorry to hear? Are you okay?”

His silence unnerved you as much as his intense attention on you. Reaching behind him for a tank top, the shameless bastard took his sweet time lowering the material over his ripped abs. By the time he was done, your heart pounded to a dizzying rhythm. You hated him for it, and the effect he had on your body.

“I’m keepin’ your shit,” he suddenly stated and moved to stand before you. His arm raised, so did your head to watch his fingers slip under the chain of the handcuffs. Smoke curled around them, then a sudden pop rang in the misty air. “Tomorrow. Nine p.m. Your ass better be at my front door.”

“No. Why would—What are you doing?!”

He hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and strode out of the bathroom. You were about to smack his back when he forced you into silent submission with only a few words.

“About earlier. There ain’t an excuse for what I’ve done,” he said. “Don’t forgive me.”

His remorse, a blade stabbing your heart, sharp tip lodged in a spot long buried beneath a pile of impossibilities and secrets. It cracked. Spilling pieces of what you had buried into the present, feeding the cruelty of reality.

“I broke in. You reacted. That makes us even,” you said, propping yourself up on one elbow to glare at the top of his head. “I don’t want to see you again. So give me back my stuff.”

Silence.

Bakugou swung the front door open and dropped you to your feet, shoving you outside. The door slammed shut in your face.

“You’re kidding. Bakugou!” Your fist slammed the metal surface. Once. Twice. Anger surged through your veins, a scream clawing its way up your throat, but the risk of waking the neighborhood forced it back down. “Open the damn door and give me back my stuff!” You jiggled the doorknob. “I know you’re there. I can sense you.”

Something slammed against the other side, hard enough to rattle the door frame.

“No. Piss off.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you give it back.”

“Couldn’t care less. Stay and see what happens. Cameras are back on. Know what that means?” A pause. “I’ve got proof of your pestering.”

“God, you’re such an annoying, stubborn fucking jerk,” you whined, frustrated beyond belief with his attitude. “What are you going to do? Call the police?”

“Wanna try me? Huh?!”

Growling, you struck the door again. “Go ahead! I’ll spin one hell of a story. Like how I’m your mistress. I’ve got proof, too—these stupid handcuffs your goofy brain forgot to take off. Bet they’ll have a field day spreading gossip about our scandalous, kinky affair.”

“Like I give a fuck.” His voice grew more distant. “Tell ‘em the reason you’re now hysterical at my door while you’re at it. Dick’s so good you can’t take rejection.”

You choked on your spit and sputtered. The audacity. “D-dick? What dick? Yours? Where?” When no retort came, you pressed your ear to the door and listened, hearing nothing. “Did he seriously leave me here?”

Several minutes later, you realized that yes, he absolutely did. Bakugou dumped and ditched you in front of his house, leaving you with nothing but the option to walk away and the cursed knowledge that you’d have to come back tomorrow.

Was this the price for your stupidity? Forced to see his smug face and breathe the same air again?

What was it they said? Third time was the charm?

You buried your head in your hands and let out a muffled, pitiful scream.

Screw your luck.

[justatypicalwizard]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.1

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥ AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥ TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — n/a

WORD COUNT — ~3.6k

a/n: Hi! Welcome to the start of my Go-Big-or-Go-Home project! After one year of toying with the idea, outlining, drafting, rewriting, and suffering, part 1 is finally leaving the box. All I'm gonna say is...this isn't a light read and the ride will be long and bumpy as hell, but I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did writing it (many tears were shed).

Enjoy!🧡

BREAKING: Truth Exposer returns! Is Nakamura Yui done for? In a shocking revelation, Truth Exposer shatters the carefully curated image of rising fashion designer Nakamura Yui. The vigilante accuses Nakamura of being behind the poor working conditions of her employees and using blackmail to silence them. It doesn’t stop there. The designs Nakamura claims as her own appear to belong to her manager. As always, the known vigilante backs the allegations with evidence, including a detailed report outlining Nakamura’s actions and possible motivations. The scandal continues to shake the fashion industry. Stay tuned for further developments.

“Remember the guy I’ve been seeing?” the woman in front of you asked her friend, staring at her phone screen.

Her friend gave her a smug look and giggled. “Your police officer boyfriend? Oh, I remember him. Are you finally official?”

The woman’s cheeks flushed pink. “Sort of. But that’s not important. He told me something interesting the other day. A rumor.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Apparently, Dynamight is on Truth Exposer’s case. For two years now. Isn’t that strange?”

“Dynamight?” Her friend’s reaction was loud enough to draw attention, prompting the woman to hush her with a finger firmly pressed to her pink-stained lips. “Sorry. That’s just shocking. No way it’s true.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He’d have caught that vigilante by now.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Don’t be so sure. My, uh, somewhat boyfriend said his superiors are growing restless because…” She looked around as if she was about to impart the secret of the universe. “There’s no evidence, it seems. Almost as if…”

“Truth Exposer doesn’t exist?” her friend offered.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her expression shifting to one of concern.

You stifled a yawn as your attention drifted from the chatty women to the rest of the ice cream parlor and rolled your shoulders. The ridiculously long queue was killing you with boredom. What were you thinking? Coming here on a Saturday evening in the middle of freaking July. Summer was in full swing, and the chase for its sweet treats manic. Unbelievable how you’d ignored that simple fact and acted on your cravings, gleefully skipping past every single convenience store and making a beeline through half the city to reach your current location.

Your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin, making your eye twitch in irritation and sheer disgust, but that was what you deserved when you stubbornly refused to satisfy the cravings with simple ice cream. Picky tongue demanded artisanal. Rich, intense, creamy flavors.

Among the locals, the location was popular, open during the summer months, and closed for the rest. Each year brought a new theme, and this time around revolved around tropical islands. The seashell pillars from last year were replaced with artificial palm trees, their long, wide green leaves holding the baby blue shaded ceiling with splotches of white cotton. The intention was for the fluff to resemble the peaceful clouds of a sunny sky, but to you, it looked like something met its tragic end.

And then there was the floor, beloved by many, hated by you—sand. Actual sand. Points for the clever idea of upping the authenticity, but that was where your generosity ended. Minuscule pebbles invaded your shoes the second you walked in, and the constant sensation of something poking into your feet every time you stepped drove you mad. The beach was where it belonged, next to the ocean, not in your ice cream parlor.

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other and carried your visual exploration to the ice cream display. Fruity aromas escaped into the cool air, scenting the atmosphere with their sweet perfume. Delightful. If only your sense of smell was as average as everyone else’s. Your nose suffered from the notes of sweat, cheap cologne, and heated synthetic materials.

“What are you getting?” the woman from before asked her friend.

“One Tsukuyomi cup and one Pinky,” her friend responded, pointing at the mentioned pro heroes who were part of the lineup of themed ice cream flavors.

The woman’s expression turned judgmental. “Blackberries and bubblegum?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Your gaze landed on the two options when vibrant orange with black swirls tugged at your attention, and you could almost feel the arrogance of who was represented radiating off it. Your whole face scrunched up, because your silly stomach fluttered in anticipation of something you wouldn’t buy, even if the man himself paid you for it.

When it was finally your turn, the most pleasant smile slapped itself on your face as you pointed to the display, saying, “I’ll have everything you’ve got left of Dynamight’s ice cream.”

Everything stilled into awkward silence as the cashier blinked at you from behind the counter, his face flushing a faint shade of red. You blinked back, and smiled wider, confused about the reaction. What the hell was going on? Weren’t you clear in your wording? You said you wanted Dynamight’s ice cream.

Dynamight’s…ice…cream—

Shit.

“I mean, I’ll have everything you’ve got left of the Dynamight-themed ice cream,” you tried again, pretending your earlier request hadn’t sounded like you’d just asked for a different kind of ice cream. Although, if that was the color of his in-pants equipment, you'd probably book him an appointment with a doctor instead.

Defeated groans and whines saved you from the awkwardness, and you stole a glance at the group wanting a sweet piece of him as your fingers tapped to a random cheery rhythm on your thigh. Closing time was approaching fast, so restocking wouldn’t happen. You were terrible for robbing them of their dream, but pissing him off held much more appeal. So, so terrible.

“The ice cream comes with themed containers too?” you asked the cashier upon seeing your purchase stuffed into a container with the key pieces of his hero suit drawn on it.

“Yes,” the cashier responded, smiling back at you. “This year is special. The pro heroes themselves reviewed the products, and had the chance to participate in the process if they wanted.”

“Oh.”

Something told you Bakugou went all in. Put on the apron and the chef hat and the gloves, and dove hands first in the fresh ingredients. Checking the quality, tasting, and mixing, and probably swearing when things didn’t go his way. Images of him in a domestic role popped like inflated balloons in your head and sprinkled the authenticity of the situation over your synapses. Nothing about it was far-fetched, he was a married man and a father too.

Even though he kept his private life private, his wife had no problem sharing about it and praising him to the moon and stars for everything, including his incredible cooking abilities. Her husband this, her husband that. Your eyes rolled every single time you had the displeasure of hearing her. It was painfully obvious Bakugou didn’t appreciate her sentiment, but what was new?

So-called picture perfect couple, though not once did he publicly display a hint of affection. Not even one brief look full of love in her direction. You recognized fed up when you saw it, and he was already beyond that state.

Besides, he wouldn’t—

“Here you go, Miss.” The cashier interrupted the forbidden thought coming through. Forbidden for its smugness.

You paid for the ice cream and picked up the special bag it was packed in, designed to prevent the sweet treat from turning into melted mush. Then left the parlor, in denial about how satisfied you were with the purchase.

The street noise and its buzzing activity immediately assaulted your heightened senses, something you’d learned to appreciate in the past few years as it made the world much more interesting. Vivid colors, nuanced sounds, layered scents, pleasant textures, hidden tastes. Life was easier when you could sense the reminders of its worth in your experiences, just not in this moment. Your mind remained anchored to his existence and the dimming of the fire in his eyes with each passing month.

His last appearance, which wasn’t work-related but was clearly another PR move orchestrated by his wife, left you rather morbidly curious about the behind-the-scenes. It was a charity event, supposedly raising funds for research into the evolution of quirks, yet he looked like someone had blackmailed him into being there. You expected him to be interested, especially since his two-year-old daughter was slowly approaching the age where her quirk might manifest, but no—Bakugou’s expression remained frozen in a subtle scowl, his gaze vacant.

Trouble in paradise, maybe?

You scoffed. Who cared? Not you. It was none of your business.

The game was just that—a game. Disconnected from reality, impersonal.

Personal was finding a nice, quiet spot under the starry sky, preferably out of sight, where you could sit and satisfy your craving for something sweet and cold. That was what you needed, not putting Bakugou’s life under a microscope and critically examining it like a specimen.

He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Not as two people living in the same world, under the same sky, breathing the same air, anyway.

Quickening your pace, you navigated the crowd, grimacing whenever some sweaty stranger brushed against you, and stopped at the crossroad, squeezing your way into the front row. As the green light ushering the cars by illuminated the moving traffic and the rancid smoke rising from the exhaust, you debated between going left or right once you crossed. The decision was quickly made upon spotting the small park tucked between the buildings lining the two side streets flanking it.

No bench was occupied, marking it the perfect spot for your little adventure.

Red turned to green for pedestrians, forcing the traffic to halt, and you followed the flow of the crowd when the back of your neck pricked with alert. Your fingers tightened around the bag handles, adrenaline kicking up a notch in your veins. The urge to swivel around and inspect burned at the edges of your instinct, but you resisted.

If you were indeed being watched, or worse, followed, the dumbest thing would be to let them know you knew.

You strode forward, pretending nothing was wrong. As if the inside of your skull wasn’t ringing like a cathedral from the brutal reverberations of alarm bells rising in volume, with the biggest Run. Run. Run! sign on its altar, bathed in divine light.

What more signs did you—

An arm seized your waist and yanked you into a hard body.

“Keep walkin’,” a deep voice spoke, and the blood drained from your head.

Impossible. This wasn’t happening.

Panic exploded in your chest, and your fight-or-flight instinct roared to life. Your unoccupied hand clenched into a fist and struck with every ounce of your strength into his gut. A low grunt followed your retaliation, drawing the attention of the crowd. You didn’t stick around for more.

You ripped yourself from his hold and burst into a sprint that would put him to shame, mentally cursing your luck. Or maybe it was fucking karma for buying that stupid ice cream. Speaking of, you hurled the bag in a random direction. Someone screamed as it flew through the air before hitting the pavement with a thud.

No indulging today—only running for your life to escape the hound currently hot on your heels.

Free of the dead weight, you skidded around the corner onto the side street, gritting your teeth as you sprinted faster. Your shoes pounded the ground, nearly drowning out the sound of his footsteps, which were closer than expected. You risked a glance over your shoulder and locked eyes in a brief, yet overbearingly intense connection with the red gaze fixated on you. Oh, joy. Your heart jumped into the first rocket and shot for the moon overhead.

Think. Think. Think.

“Screw this.”

In a moment of absolute recklessness, you bolted into the sparse traffic just as a car approached. Honks blared. Tires screeched. Death’s chilly claws scraped down your sweaty back. You hopped onto the hood of a car and slid over the heated metal to the other side, safely.

“Are you fuckin’ insane?!” His rage ripped through the humid air, bringing it to a paralyzing boil with a boom so loud you felt the shockwave shove you forward.

And then you were hauled off your feet and slammed face-first into the tall shrubbery fencing the park you’d wanted to enjoy that evil ice cream in. Heavy panting consumed your hearing as steely arms banded around your body, locking your arms in place, their muscles made of something that couldn’t be human. Rigid with power and strength.

“Goddamn it, woman. You’re a handful,” he panted in your ear, the rough rasp of his voice sending a very, very inappropriate shiver down the length of your body pressed against his front.

“Explains why your hands are so full,” you quipped, sarcasm the sin you shouldn’t have committed with the man who ate it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His coiled arms constricted around your ribs, expelling a gasp from your lungs amidst the heaving breaths. “I didn’t peg you for a ribs-breaker, Dynamight,” you spat his hero name.

“You’re a slippery one, so gotta hold on tight, Truth Exposer.” He spat yours in return.

Laughter wheezed out of your mouth. “Who? Sorry, but you’ve got the wrong person.”

“That the card you wanna play?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. C’mon. We ain’t havin’ that talk here.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere with you.” You jerked in his harsh embrace, and squirmed like a worm on a hook, trying to escape the gaping maw of a hungry fish, growling, “Let me go. You can’t just randomly restrain someone. It’s power abuse, assho—hero!”

Despite your continuous protest he clearly didn’t give a fuck about, Bakugou dragged you away from the street, struggling and kicking, into the dead-end alleyway behind the park. He shoved you toward the wall, next to a dumpster buzzing with flies, and you managed to catch yourself in time before your face made contact with the filthy concrete.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you dry-heaved a few times from the rotting smell of garbage, having been under the scorching sun for more than a day. Whatever the hell was in there had been triple-cooked and extra ripened.

“Can punch, but can’t handle a little bit of stink?” he mocked, and you whirled on him, glaring fiercely.

“If I puke, I’m puking on you. How’s that for a little bit of stink?”

One side of his mouth quirked into a cocky grin that had your earlier panic morph into an irrational urge to wipe it off his face. Your hands clenched into trembling fists, nails biting into your palms.

“Don’t. You had your shot,” he said, his arms crossing over his chest, muscles flexing with the motion. “Be smart. Accept that you can’t win and let’s have a nice little chit-chat, yeah?”

Your brows lifted as you leveled him with a hard stare. Sweat slid down his temple, some dripped from that high bridge of his nose and onto his parted lips, and it was those beads you followed the descent of. They gathered on his chin and dripped on his veiny forearms before splattering on the ground at its feet.

Of course, the bastard was dressed to show off, even when he was out hunting... for you. Tank top and shorts so randoms could drool over his biceps and strong legs? Check. Custom-made cap to hide his identity? Check. Latest trendy sneakers? Check. You’d bet half your fortune his underwear was expensive too, probably tight over his ass and...

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Still, against better judgment, your eyes lingered on the cut of his body, taking note of everything that mattered. Bakugou could snap you like a twig if he wanted to. So could you—mentally, at least. One touch, poisoned with ill intent, and he’d drop like a felled tree. Brain stunned. Nerves fried. Unable to scream for help, or beg for death.

If only you could muster that intent toward him.

Gaze bouncing back up to his, you felt your composure stumble. His own roved over you, slow and deliberate, like a teasing touch. As if memorizing you was the sole reason he existed. Your heart skipped, tiny kicks against your ribs. Traitorous little bitch. Your senses too; they completely zeroed in on him.

Steps away, yet his cologne suddenly overpowered the putrid stench around you. Spiced heat, tangled in notes of something that was naturally him. He smelled…good. Good enough to cloud your judgment and weaken your knees.

Would he taste the same?

No. Stop. Your moral compass shuddered. He was your ticket to confinement. And a married man.

“Chit-chat about what?” You aimed for a steady voice; what came out was breathy.

He didn’t hesitate. “You’re Truth Exposer. The biggest pain in my ass for the last two years.”

Bakugou stalked forward. You stepped back. Forward. Back. Again and again, until the ridged concrete wall halted your retreat. Distance didn’t seem to exist in his mind where you were concerned.

Shouldn’t he be more cautious? He barely knew anything about you, let alone the extent of your quirk. Officially, it heightened your five senses to an overstimulating, terrifying degree—all of them, or whichever you chose. You never bothered to update the information at the Quirk Registry and had no intention of doing so.

“So you say. Proof?” You flicked your gaze to the alley opening, tracking the occasional passing car while listening for sirens. Nothing. A slow smile played on your lips. “No police?”

“Nah. Can drag your stupid ass to ‘em myself.”

“Then why aren’t you?” You snapped your fingers near his face, taunting. “Ah, right. Because there’s a difference between thinking someone did something bad and suspecting them based on proof. You, Dynamight, have a little problem with the second, don’t you?”

His palm slammed above your head as he leaned in, warm breath tickling your lips. “Backhanded admission?” He scoffed. “Cocky little shit. Think you’re gettin’ out of this?”

“Unless you can back up your assumptions, yeah.” You stepped closer, erasing the last bit of space between you, your voice fading to a whisper. "Breaking news: Pro Hero Dynamight detains a civilian on baseless suspicions. Has dropping four rankings finally pushed him to cross the line in hopes of climbing back up?”

Low, rumbly chuckles spilled from his lips and onto yours. You blinked, taken aback by the pleasant sound and his open amusement, barely registering his fingers grasping your jaw. “Like I give a shit about my ranking when I found you. Now all I gotta do is follow your scent and wait for you to slip. Once you do that, I’ll be right there punishin’ you for it. Wanna guess who’ll shoot up in the rankings after?”

You stared at him for another beat before you jerked your head away, grimacing. “Following my scent? What are you, a dog?”

“Worse.”

“A stalker, then?”

Bakugou never got the chance to respond. His phone rang, blasting the most obnoxious sound in existence. Clicking his tongue, he fished it out of his shorts, gaze locked on yours, daring you to move. He snapped at the caller.

“This better be important. I’m busy.”

Being this close made you into an involuntary participant in the conversation. Bless your hearing, or curse it.

“You need to come home. It’s about your wife. And Yua,” the woman on the other end urged. His mother?

He instantly straightened. “Is my kid okay?”

“She’s fine, but come home.” Her voice sounded exhausted.

“Can’t it wait?” he asked, and your expression shifted into surprise. Shouldn’t he be running already?

“I caught her with another guy. What do you think, Katsuki? Can it wait?” Her tone suddenly whipped at the air through the speaker.

Another guy? Your mouth dropped open. His wife cheated on him? That wasn’t something you ever expected to hear.

“On my way.” He ended the call, pocketing his phone, and the weirdest thing happened.

When someone learned of their partner’s betrayal, there’d be hurt, anger, disgust; neither was present anywhere on him. Bakugou was either an expert at hiding his emotions, or something else was going on.

“Have fun sleepin’ with one eye open.”

He flicked your forehead, then jogged out of the alley, leaving you gawking at his retreating form, hand smacked over the stinging spot.

What the hell? And was that excitement you noticed in his eyes for a second before they left yours?

Ridiculous. In what world would he be excited about—

Your breath hitched. Was Bakugou waiting for something like this? For a reason to…end his marriage? Why?

Curiosity wrapped dangerously around your racing heart, and you shook your head. “Not my business.” It wasn’t. What he did, with whom, where, how. His life, in general, was not your business. “Move on. Pretend none of this happened. You didn’t hear. You didn’t see. You didn’t feel.”

Silence descended over the dead-end alley like a heavy mantle, fabric made out of secrets and denied truths. Each gone moment was more oppressive than the last. Your defenses asphyxiated under the pressure. Cracked. Loosened your self-control.

Weakness clawed to the surface.

You slapped your cheeks lightly a few times. You needed to remember why you had to stay far, far away from him. Somehow, he found you, putting your freedom at risk.

Your options took priority, your life, not his. Never…his.

The reason you spaced out, staring at the alley’s entrance, at the spot you’d last seen him, wasn’t the foreboding feeling creeping inside you; it was the unknown of your next move.

[justatypicalwizard]

Hey luvss, do you write for other fandoms? If you don't please ignore this!! But if you are may I request Sanemi x Reader where they both have the same personality and bicker alot and they also like each other but they're just both too stubborn to admit it. Can it be fluff please? Tyy!!

"Stubborn Hearts and Sharp Tongues"

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Enemies-to-Lovers Energy

---

It was a miracle the Butterfly Mansion was still standing.

“Could you not breathe like a dying boar?” you snapped, slamming the door to the training room open.

Sanemi didn’t even flinch. “Could you not stomp around like a rabid toddler? Some of us are trying to focus.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, stretching your arms dramatically. “Your concentration breaks if a leaf rustles.”

“And yours breaks if someone so much as looks at you the wrong way,” he shot back, sparring bokken balanced perfectly on his shoulder.

Shinobu passed by the hallway, sipping tea and muttering, “Ah, young love,” before disappearing with a smirk.

You both turned scarlet and simultaneously barked, “IT’S NOT LIKE THAT.”

**

You trained together almost daily—if “training” meant shouting insults while dodging each other’s blows and denying the very obvious tension in the air.

“You missed,” Sanemi sneered as you narrowly avoided one of his strikes, the wind from it tossing your hair.

“You flinched,” you retorted, landing a hit to his ribs that he absolutely let happen, not that he’d admit it.

And when you both tripped, crashing to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs and bruised egos, neither of you moved right away.

“Your forehead is in my ribs,” he muttered.

“And your elbow is in my face, congrats.”

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

“…You’re not terrible,” he said after a long beat.

“Aw, that sounded dangerously close to a compliment,” you teased, tilting your head up just enough to catch his eye.

He was already looking at you.

“You’re annoying,” he said, soft.

“So are you,” you whispered back.

Neither of you knew who leaned in first—but suddenly, the insults were gone, replaced with the kind of silence that buzzed like lightning in your veins.

The kiss was clumsy. Fiery. Soft, and rough, and way too long overdue.

When you pulled back, both of you blinked, stunned.

“…This never happened,” he said gruffly.

“Absolutely not,” you agreed, already leaning in for another kiss.

[justatypicalwizard]

𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰

[justatypicalwizard]

Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧.* Act III Scene I

☞ ♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥ ☜

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Read on AO3 (link in the future) ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ʚɞ After the school sports day Bakugo became recognizable more than earlier. Some students, especially from lower classes, looked up and down his face when crossing paths on the corridors. The blonde couldn’t say he didn’t like it. Bold as brass, Bakugo basked in the lazy nonchalance.

ʚɞ Another big success was catching your attention. Similarly to other extras, you looked his way from time to time when he passed you down the pathway in the school field. Apart from these occasional glances, you seemed to put some more focus and intent into your pupils, as if remembering exactly the weight of his arm over your shoulder.

ʚɞ “That’s your analysis? That’s she’s more focused when looking at me rather than the floor? Fucking great.”

“I’m telling you it’s the truth. Eyes are the mirrors of the soul!” The Cat whined, trotting behind Bakugo on his journey to the library.

“People in love always take such details into consideration.”

“People in love are stupid.”

“Stupid and observant. Besides it’s you who made this whole deal into some sort of a mission. Love isn’t some chore or achievement -”

“My mission is to go back home and my achievement will be to make it happen without anyone noticing my missing in the first place.” The blonde huffed, pushing the library door open.

He was met with a gust of kinda dusty but pleasantly smelling air. The book scent swirled up with the motion of the small electric fan working restlessly on the librarian’s desk. It was quiet, thus the annoying conversation was cut short.

Having found his book Bakugo was about to head back to class when he spotted your head between book-heavy racks. You were sitting with another person who’s greenish mop of hair Bakugo knew quite well.

He stepped closer, dug his hand between the books as if reaching for something, and started listening. You and Deku were talking some maths. Apparently he was tutoring you. The lesson was coming to an end and Bakugo picked up a very useful information. You were supposed to meet with Deku in two days, for further studying. This meant you most probably scheduled library meetings with the nerd on a weekly basis.

Bakugo was good at maths as well.

Having waited until you left, the blonde cornered the poor nerd and without much introduction stated his purpose. The Cat, despite being invisible, hid under the bookshelf, hearing how stupidly straightforward Bakugo tried to handle everything.

“Listen, I wanna ask out the girl you just tutored in maths. Tell her that you can’t help her for some time and let me take your place.” He finished his demand with a huf and an annoyed look that was supposed to intimidate.

“I - well, what?”

After some further back and forth Deku finally gave in to the idea. He seemed to appreciate the free time he would get out of missing a few sessions with you (which was not Bakugo’s intent at all!). Worry still lingered on his face when he packed his bag after agreeing, but it was quickly replaced with a smile, when Bakugo crossed arms over his chest defensively, upon hearing congratulations on taking such a bold step.

“'ts nothing, it’s not that hard to ask somebody out. I hate playing cat and mouse with people, no matter what I want.”

“Then I could also take some tutoring lessons from you.” Deku laughed awkwardly, a blush creeping up his freckled cheeks.

“Huh?” Bakugo’s everlasting grimace deepened significantly.

“Well, you know, it’s about - nevermind.” Deku rubbed the back of his head faster and faster. It looked as if he was trying to pull out his own messy hair.

“About that girl Ochako, I know. Everybody knows.”

“Oh.” His face became pale and blank, mouth opened in a small ‘o’. “Right.”

“Just, scram.” With a shake of his hand Bakugo turned away. “And ask that girl out already. God knows how long she’d been waiting.”

“Thanks.” Bakugo heard a wobbly voice as Deku wiggled free between him and the bookshelf.

“I have no idea how on earth you manage to find more and more energy sources with that attitude.”

Not wanting to blow the cover of silence Bakugo only crooked a brow, looking towards the Cat.

“That boy here seemed to feel some kind of gratitude. And believe me, it was love related. So this added a pinch of energy to the pool. Congrats.”

“Fuck, y'all weird.”

It was high time for some alone alone with you.

Tag list: @ita606 @blueberrysoaps @bakunianadecorazon @makaroni-and-chez

[justatypicalwizard]

Mini tramwaju pomóż

I feel like this week I'm gonna take the big ass tramwaj somewhere, like the real thing, just to aprecite this magnificent means of transport.

šššššššš, bude dobře

mini tramvaj do dlaně, ok?

[justatypicalwizard]

mermaid's lure

[justatypicalwizard]

I love her so much T-T

[justatypicalwizard]

Naruto

[justatypicalwizard]

autistic kabru real he told me. he told me

[justatypicalwizard]

"I cant draw" then do it bad who gives a fuck.....

[justatypicalwizard]

I think this poll lacked Mojo Jojo option

[justatypicalwizard]

My whole profile running on that one Bakugo fic

[justatypicalwizard]

My whole profile running on that one Bakugo fic

[justatypicalwizard]

巛—𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘 𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞—⫸

[[ knight !reader x royal !link scenarios ]]

you've been assigned to him for as long as you could remember. people have observed your bond, and it's quite obvious that you're the only reasonable match— the only one he's willing to let take care of him. you wouldn't want to change that fact either, but taking care of link comes with an unfathomable amount of responsibility. such as...

★ "put down that damn frog!"

you're the closest you've ever been to a heart attack at this point. taking the prince out on a voyage where there were monsters lurking about was the last thing you had wanted to do, but unable to resist his insistent, silent pouting, you couldn't exactly denyhim what he wanted.

he's cute when he's curious, which is everyday. you let him roam around with his large observational book, studying and taking notice of whatever shroom or flower was blooming by whatever random tree.

speaking of a tree, you figured to set up a small campsite under a large tree not too far away from the castle. there was a fire going in a pot, and the boy had been throwing random food stuff inside and hoping for the best dish to come from it. you watch with a soft smile— that is, until it deflates as you spot a few bokoblins a little too close and sigh, standing up.

"Stay here." you mumble softly, to which the boy smiles and nods, eyes glued to the way you reach up to grip the handle of your sword, pulling it up and out of its sheathe.

yoi don't take long— really you don't. the bokoblin type was blue, more than easy to take down. you don't even break a sweat until you begin walking back to the tree, only to feel your breath hitch and your heart stop. that damn monster of curiosity (or, link) was holding a poor frog over the pot, probably more than ready to drop it in for Hylia knows what.

your shouting startles the boy, making him go wide-eyed and sheepish as you storm up to him. you take a second to glare before snatching the creature from his hands and setting it back into the small body of water that he was most likely snatched from.

"seriously? I was gone for five minutes." you protest.

his face goes expressive,

'it's for science!' he signs

"I know, link... you always say that." you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, opening your eyes to see him flipping frantically through his research book before holding it open, shoving the open page in your face.

a silly healing elixir that he had been mentioning non-stop. it was probably the reason he was so adamant about tagging along.

"yes, my liege, I know about the elixir. but if you want it so bad, why don't you just simply buy one?" you suggest, exhaustion in your voice.

his face scrunches in disgust at the idea, throwing the book down before signing again,

'too far. want to experience creating it on my own'

you look from his hands to his face, being met with his saddened eyes. if he were anyone else...

"fine..." you mumble, to which he silently celebrates, "just, not in front of me, please?"

'thank you.' he steps closer, and you smile.

'no problem'. you sign back.

* * *

★ "please be careful, my liege." you voice to the blonde prince.

he'd gladly tell you that he was fine if his hands weren't currently full. if anyone else saw how you and link interacted outside of the castle, you're sure you'd be killed for your crimes.

maybe it wasn't a good idea to let the prince of hyrule use your sword and swing it around however he pleased, but in your professional opinion— he's a natural.

"you're doing great!" you smile, shaking your head as he was caught up in his own little world. and he really was. so great that he couldn't heat a word you said. holding a weapon just felt so natural to him, and he absolutely loved it when you offered it up for him to use during leisure time.

his swings are heavy and lethal, but it's obvious to you that he isn't pacing himself. the movements are so natural that he doesn't even comprehend the strain it's putting on his body— not until his swing is stopped.

link looks down at his tightened grasp on the handle, but looseness it as he realizes that you had caught his wrist. his disgruntled expression softens significantly as he looks up at you in awe and embarrassment as you hold his wrists with one hand, and remove the handle the handle from his grip with the other.

"that's enough," tour voice rings through his head as you chuck the sword to the side, face growing serious as you keep holding his wrists, "you alright?"

he can't respond with occupied hands, and so he nods, heart pounding at your serious expression. he wonders what he's done wrong, or what should be wrong, until he begins to feel an ache in his back and shoulders, making him wince. you notice.

"I know that feeling... it's why I stopped you." you explain whilst removing your hands from him. "you're good, but you're straining yourself. you're not fit for that type of intensity."

he mouths a small 'oh', and you sigh, frowning as he rubs his aching shoulder.

"it's alright... I've got something to heal you right up."

the male smiles softly, nodding in appreciation. you were always taking care of him like this. but your encouragement for him to get a little rough and rowdy is why he liked you so much. though you wanted him safe, you weren't constantly sheltering him. he hated that.

he taps your shoulder, to which you turn to him,

'sorry.'

you smile and shake your head, "don't apologize. you did really good my liege. wonder what you'd be like as a knight, actually." you chuckle.

he smiles back, letting the butterflies float around in his tummy.

* * *

★ "what do you think you're doing?"

you felt like you've done this... a lot. for the umpteenth time, you've caught the prince walking around the castle grounds, barefoot, and draped in a softened blanket as he attempts to protect himself from the nighttime breeze.

the look he gives you is one of disappointment as he thinks you're going to take him back inside, but he's pleasantly surprised when you shake your head and simply rest a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward.

"Don't worry...I'll sit with you."

he smiles, clutching the blanket tighter. beyond the wall, he can spot the swaying of the grass, the wispyness of the clouds in the deep blue sky, and the stillness of the ancient guardians that settled into the ground. he truly loves his kingdom, and you can see it true. he walks until he reaches a spot that makes it easy to see the vast land and takes a seat on the edge of the castle walls.

"this is nice..." you sigh as you sit beside him

he nods, and your eyes glance over to him incase he's ready to talk back. and he does:

'I think I enjoy nighttime the best.' he signs, glancing between you and the beautiful view amongst him, 'sometimes, i think about running. I want to explore.'

you heart aches

"I know, my liege... I'm sorry you feel trapped." you whisper

to your surprise, he laughs softly, shaking his head, 'not trapped... just hidden potential'

you smile. such a purse and positive response. his head turns to face you, eyes so blue that you can't help but observe them thoroughly. he scoots closer beside you, careful, as to not fall, and rest his head on your shoulder.

"I think..." you wrap his blanket around him tighter, "I think we were definitely meant to be this way, my liege." you whisper, and watch as his eyes flutter shut

but not before he nods in agreement, and your heart tate spikes at what he says next.

his hands don't communicate, no. nit this time. instead, you're blessed with a sound ao angelic, so soft that you'd dread if you accidentally missed it.

"I think so too..." he whispers.

* * *

[justatypicalwizard]

Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧ Act II Scene II

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Act II ༊*·˚

Scene II: My two best friends MUST get together

ʚɞ Bakugo could end the day as it was, if not for the fact that it was not even 11 am and he still had a whole school day to work through.

ʚɞ After washing his face in one of the outside basins, he retreated to the gymnasium for further events. His next competition wasn’t about to start in two hours so he had to kill the time.

ʚɞ Mere seconds after he entered through the side door Denki-stupid-Dunceface grabbed his arm.

“Listen, I need your help.” He whispered.

“Let go of that arm or…”

“Shh. I have a plan for, you know, the thing we were talking about.” Denki looked left and right as if he was reporting top-secret information to Agent 007 himself.

Bakugo felt himself in a trap. It would look dumb as hell if he let it show that he had no idea what they were talking about earlier. It must have been the other Katsuki. With a grunt he breathed out an irritated “Go on.”

As if giving a kind candy, Denki’s face lit up.

“Okay, so, me and the others from the techn-club made a set up for today and the teachers let us put it up when the Sports Day event starts. We wanted to do the thing they do in America, like on the football games. We have a camera that’s connected to a, sorta, big TV and we can broadcast live!” Denki spoke like he just safely despatched Apollo into space.

Bakugo thought about the fluid, unclear timeline he found himself in. Somehow, he was unable to clearly read the year he was in. Every calendar was ripped, stained or out of date when he tried to read the year.

“A lot of people know already and are looking up to the Hug-Cam!” He squeezed his own arms in a cheesy manner. “The teachers didn’t let us call it the Kiss-Cam unfortunately.”

“What a pity.” Bakugo snarked.

“So, we need to get Kiri and Mina on the screen together. Ugh, man I just can’t stand the tension any more, like, just go out already!”

So that’s what this whole mascarade was about. Getting Kirishima and Mina into an embarrassing situation so that they, in some twisted manner, look into each other's eyes and realise they are deeply in love. How come Bakugo never watched trashy romance dramas but still knew the gist of most of the plots. Must be social media influence or something.

“I can hold onto Mina but I need someone to make sure Kiri will stand in the right place in the right time. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, leave it to me.”

ʚɞ After talking out the painfully stupid plan, Bakugo set off to look for his red haired pea-brain of a friend. The blonde had to remind himself of the benefit he would get out of making a clown of himself.

“I like it when you know what’s good for you.” The Cat emerged from under a bench and started trodding lightly after the boy. He only grunted in response, whatever it was supposed to mean. “We did talk about how helping your friends and harvesting their love energy will add to our cause. You better not fuck it up.”

He swore to god, if he could, he would kick the dumb cat. But that later. Now Kirishima, who was standing among some guys in basketball outfits. Bakugo walked beside him and asked him to follow. Kirishima, despite asking multiple times what was the matter and not getting an answer, still followed like a puppy right into the spot where they were supposed to meat with Denki.

“Dude, can you tell me?”

“Just stand here for a while.”

“Well, okay.”

It was really not that hard. Why all the conspiracy when you can simply tell people to do something.

Soon a weirdly shaped camera emerged into view. The rather big, but only, TV in the gymnasium played an image of the inside of itself, with multiple people running away from the lense of the Hug-Cam, some laughing, some actually panicking. Mina followed short after Denki who was yielding the set-up.

They came closer to Bakugo and Kiri, Denki pointing the lense towards the floor as if only testing how the image broadcasted. When Mina came forward to meet the two boys, cameraman himself betrayed and pointed the lense straight at the three. In that moment Katsuki stepped out of the image, leaving only two dumbfounded people looking at the TV, seeing their own faces in it.

“Well, looks like we’ve got the first victims.” Denki laughed making the image shake and blur his friends messed up faces.

“You weasel!” Mina turned towards him but soon she realised multiple faces were looking her way. Kiri was standing behind her laughing sheepishly and shrugging. Shortly after they gave in gracing the whole gymnasium with a sweet little hug.

“Just get together already.” Bakugo huffed, making them turn. Mina pointed a finger his way wanting to say something but he shushed her. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

None of them told him he’s wrong. Later that evening, after the school sports day Kirishima will wait for Mina by the school gate and they will take a stroll home that will ultimately lead to their first date.

Denki still smiled, although he found Bakugo’s blunt straightforwardness cranky. Well, it worked so whatever. Because of that he didn’t realise he was holding the camera tiled and it was now facing Katsuki and someone behind him.

That someone was Yaoyorozu who was stunned seeing her face on the TV and currently being pushed by her friends towards the blonde boy.

“Come on, he’s the one who won the martial arts.” One of them whispered.

When she came in close, Bakugo and Denki finally realised what was going on but another bunch of love starved idiots was looking their way.

“Nah.” Bakugo put his hands in his pockets walking past the girls. Many faces went down. “Follow me.” He threw to Denki over his shoulder.

Without much more to do the poor cameraman did as he was told. Bakugo found the Crush and without waiting for Denki to follow both his footsteps and the situation, he slinged his arm over Crushe’s shoulder.

“Look who’s on TV.” Bakugo pointed towards the screen that just started to show the image of them two. Denki finally caught up.

WIthout further ado Bakugo went on, as if nothing ever happened.

ʚɞ That day the blonde rose in the schools little universe to king of martial arts and a supposed cold heartbreak. 

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[justatypicalwizard]

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here’s a sweet picrew to help you end your weekend on a bright note! open tags, as always 🤍