#😅 but i expected that so that one is on me

[strawberry-nugget]

notion | k. bakugo | 2

Notion M.list

Paring: Bakugo Katsuki x reader

Summary: The last four years have been a blur. You and Bakugo had been in this hellish friends with benefits/ situationship for way too long until you decided to end it last year. Now, due to being peer-pressured to choose Izuku over him, you've been in no contact for two whole months and you are finally making a hear out of permanently living in Tokyo, three hours away from him and everybody.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, fwb, jealousy, alchohol drinking, bakugo is bloody after patrol, just a tad of angst, situationships (my real worst enemy), no smut in this chapter tho oopsiesss, Bakugo fighting with Mitsuki, All characters are 20+

A/N: oopsies sorry it took me years to come back to this fic 😅 However, next chapter is pure filth to make up for it

Your apartment in Shibuya is too small. It’s a studio apartment, kitchen crammed into one corner, bed pressed against the opposite wall. The Hero Commission pays for it, but that doesn’t make it feel any bigger.

You don’t mind, not really. Most nights, you’re too tired to care. Between patrolling for the agency and handling the odd jobs your boss throws your way, you’re lucky if you get six hours of sleep. The city hums outside your window, neon signs reflecting off glass, the distant chatter of nightlife a constant reminder that Shibuya never really sleeps.

The agency you work for part-time isn’t bad. The pay is decent, the hours flexible—you even get to spend three days of the week back at Musutafu. It’s not a top-tier agency like Endeavor’s or Hawks’, but that works in your favor. Less press, less scrutiny, fewer expectations. The heroes running it like that about you. You’re efficient. Capable. And a former top student at UA. You’re unremarkable and so well trained in such way that makes you easy to move around like a chess piece.

This is the job, after all.

You haven’t been back home for two months. Not since Izuku confessed to you.

His words had been careful, earnest���so painfully Izuku. Through text, on your way home for the weekend, he told you he had feelings for you, that he had for a long time, that he wasn’t expecting an answer right away but just wanted you to know. That was the problem. You didn’t have an answer.

You have not been back home since that stunt Bakugo pulled just to be the one to pick you up from the train station that day and definitely not after that dinner at the Bakugos’ in which Mitsuki was trying her best to set you up with someone that isn’t her son.

Then again how could she have known you and Bakugo have had your fair share of occasional sex throughout the course of four years?

The memory of how awkward that night was makes you groan inwardly. Mitsuki had been relentless, a whirlwind of enthusiasm as she served dinner, her eyes practically sparkling as she brought up Izuku. “You should go out with him! He’s such a good boy, and he really cares about you!” she had exclaimed, nudging you with her elbow as Bakugo sat across the table, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

You had tried to redirect the conversation, bringing up Bakugo’s latest achievements or the new training regimen he had implemented, but Mitsuki had been having none of it, like it was too easy for her to pester about Izuku now that he had politely declined her invitation to grade papers for his class “No, no! I mean, have you seen how well he treats you? He’s always looking out for you!”

Each comment made Bakugo’s jaw tighten, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You had laughed it off, but the undercurrent of tension in the room had been palpable. That was the night you’d left, feeling more confused than ever—especially with the way Bakugo had glanced at you when he thought no one was watching.

You remember the way his fingers tapped against the edge of his plate, his eyes flickering to you every time Mitsuki gushed about Izuku’s “perfect boyfriend potential.” He didn’t say much—not outright—but you could feel his irritation radiating off him in waves.

Mitsuki, oblivious as ever, had kept going.

“And you know,” she had continued, pouring more tea into your cup, to help the food go down smoothly “he’s such a sweet boy. Hardworking. Polite. Not like this one—” she jabbed her thumb toward her son, “—who still thinks grunting is an acceptable form of communication.”

“Oi,” Bakugo had grumbled, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shot you a look, something unreadable simmering in his red eyes before he went back to stabbing at his food. Like he was begging you to say something.

Anything.

Even to mention that he’d come visit you in Tokyo. Something to establish a different kind of familiarity between the two of you to his mother.

You had tried to laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. “Izuku and I are just friends, miss Mitsuki”

“For now,” she had teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Come on, you’ve known each other forever. Doesn’t it make sense?”

But you had known Bakugo since forever too. You wish someone could see through that, you wish someone could urge the two of you to admit your feelings but your shenanigans had been tight lipped and banned to mention to the world. Maybe it could have been different had any of you spoken about each other to your friends.

Because how else could you tell his mother you’re never going to fall in love with Izuku-— you’ve been in love with her stupid, begrunting son since high school.

“Katsuki! Put some thought into her brain! She’ll listen to you!”

That was when Bakugo stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “Tch. I’m fucking done.” He grabbed his plate and stomped toward the sink, movements sharp and tense. You’d barely had time to process before he was brushing past you on his way out of the kitchen, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“You don’t gotta humor her.”

He drove you home, tried to kiss you before you opened the door to leave but settled for kissing your cheek. You kissed his neck in return. A promise you do not want Izuku, but not enough of a confession to let him know how you feel.

That was the last time you’d seen him in two months.

Your shifts at the agency have doubled since, at your demand. You’ve tried anything to get him out of your head, anything to just convince yourself that life goes on. You can stay friends with him and pretend you’ve never been anything else.

‘If he wanted to, he would be with you’ one of your coworkers had told you the other night, when you mentioned the matter, while deliberately skipping to mention who you’d be talking about, in your desperate attempts to finally make friends out of all the people you spend everyday with.

And she’s right. You know she’s right.

She’s also right when she pesters you to join her and a few of your other coworkers for dinner on Friday after patrol. Claiming you’ve been so shut off, that they want to get to know you better. And you say yes, because you have nothing better to do— you can’t spend another sleepless night staring at Bakugo’s last message that you left on read. ‘If he wanted to he would’ replaying in your head like a mantra.

______

Friday comes too quickly.

Between being on the edge every single day as your parents are begging you to come back home for the weekend and a single text from Bakugo on Wednesday night asking if you’re still alive, you’ve been expecting the outing with your coworkers religiously throughout the week.

It’s your only excuse to get black out drunk and go home and sleep the weekend off.

Aiko, the coworker that invited you asks you to dress nicely— no cargo pants and a sweatshirt like the ones she sees you exit the agency with and you pack a plain sweater dress with you before you leave for the agency in the morning.

And while the dinner goes smoothly, you’re asked to join them for drinks— frankly you can’t refuse when seeing that they paid for your dinner too.

You promise yourself It’s not a regular thing—you’re not close enough to any of them for that—but someone suggested it after patrol, and you were too tired to come up with a reason to say no. So now you’re here, tucked into the corner of a noisy izakaya, half-listening to a conversation about some high-profile villain case in Minato while nursing a glass of highball.

The place is warm, filled with the scent of grilled meat and cigarette smoke. Your coworkers are already a few rounds in, voices louder, laughter easier this time.

Some sick part of your brain wishes Bakugo was here too. That all your friends were here too, or maybe, that this was one of your class reunions at Shoto’s house.

“You ever think about going full-time?” one of them asks, nudging you with his elbow. Watanabe. He’s been at the agency for two years, still hoping for a promotion. You mostly share patrols with him and Aiko. “Commission’s gotta be lining you up for something better, right?”

You take a sip of your drink, the ice clinking softly. “Doubt it,” you say. “They like me where I am. I like where I am. It’s flexible and pays well. I used to go home in Musutafu every weekend.”

“Oh yeah, you went to UA!” another one exclaims.

“Man, that’s rough,” Watanabe laughs, shaking his head. “With how you handle yourself, you could be working for one of the bigger names. Hell, any big agency at this point. You went to college too. That’s like, insane hero knowledge.”

You don’t respond. You just glance at the condensation on your glass, at the way the dim light catches the edges of the liquid inside. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Not like you don’t know you’re capable of more, but the top hero life isn’t something you ever wanted. You like your job just how it is. Your pay is the same as the one in your old agency in Musutafu where you worked full time and Tokyo is a far better city to live in than your hometown.

There’s a comfort in the routine, in knowing exactly what’s expected of you and having the freedom to navigate your own path. Besides, the last thing you want is to be in the spotlight, not when you’re still trying to figure out your own identity beyond being a hero.

In Tokyo, maybe you could finally get away from that messy situation with Bakugo. You could always be three hours away from him, working less, having more time to yourself. Not fighting for any rank.

As the night rolls on, the conversation shifts from work to personal lives, and your coworkers seem all too eager to poke fun at each other. You try to keep your head down, focusing on your drink, but Watanabe isn’t done with you tonight. So much for wanting to get to know you.

You wonder if Bakugo would snap at them for all those questions. God, he infiltrates your mind in all the wrong times.

Begrudgingly you reach for your phone. You want to message him, casually, maybe snap a picture of the place and caption it with something along the lines of ‘wish you were here too’ but that’s pushing it and you’re not even sure he’s going to let you live this through.

Still, you force yourself to reply to him.

It’s simple. It’s three days late, it’s two o’clock in the morning and it’s pushing Saturday. And you don’t even know the state that he’s in tonight.

You: yeah...

You: If I could see you I’d be better.

You press send and think nothing more of it.

“Hey,” it’s a while before Watanabe calls your name again, “you’re awfully quiet over there,” he calls out, his voice cutting through the buzz of chatter. “Got a boyfriend keeping you busy, or something?”

The table erupts in laughter, and you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. “Yeah, right,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you shut off your phone and set it on the table beside you, screen facing the wood “As if I’d have time for that.”

“C’mon!” Aiko, chimes in “You’re out here saving the world everyday! Don’t tell me you don’t have a cute guy waiting for you to come home!”

You chuckle nervously, unsure whether to play along or deflect. “I’ve got my hands full with work,” you say, forcing a smile. “That’s enough of a challenge for me.”

“Maybe you just need to let loose a little,” Watanabe teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “What’s the harm in dating a villain or two? It could spice up your life!”

The group bursts into another round of laughter, and you can’t help but shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the embarrassment. “I think I’ll pass on that,” you reply, trying to sound firm but failing to hide your amusement. “I’m not looking for any extra trouble. Or loosing my license”

“Sure, sure,” Aiko says, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But if you do find someone, we expect an invite to the wedding! You know how to plan an epic event, right?”

Marriage sounds like a nightmare to you, right now, tonight, at almost three am, when your phone chirps with a notification for a text that you know who it belongs to.

It doesn’t make sense that he’s awake, but your heart tightens as you catch a glimpse of his name on your screen as the light starts to die down.

Katsuki <3: Really?

That’s all it says. One word. You read it in his cocky, too annoyed-at-everything voice.

And yet, it makes your stomach drop.

You stare at your screen, throat tightening. It’s been three days since he texted you—three days of silence on your end, because you didn’t know what to say. Because you were trying to be smart about this, about him. Because you’re trying to keep a space between you, since this isn’t working out for your poor heart.

Because if he wanted to, he would.

You should’ve known he’d be pissed.

“Hey, you good?” Aiko’s voice cuts through the background noise, and you force yourself to look up. She’s watching you closely, brows furrowed. “You just spaced out.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head. “Yeah. Just—forget it, just my sister.” Your fingers tighten around your glass.

You don’t know what to say to him. You never really do, and yet you answer when you know you shouldn't.

You: really

____

Katsuki stumbles through the front door of his house, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the quiet of the dead of night.

It’s barely past 3 am.

The dim light of the hallway barely illuminates his bloodied form as he drags himself inside, his limbs heavy and unsteady. His chest rises and falls in uneven gasps, each breath painful, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving him with a deep, gnawing exhaustion. His body screams for rest, but instead, he opts to stare at the screen of his phone, he chooses to re-read your goddamn message like a book that’s too dear to one's heart.

He curses under his breath, a low, rasping sound as his fingers grip the doorframe, steadying himself for a moment. Blood drips— from his eyebrow down to his eyes, from his lip down to his chin, streaking across his costume in dark, splotchy patterns. His head throbs, dizziness sweeping through him like a wave, but he forces himself to move forward. One step. Then another. But each motion feels like a battle, and the world spins with every turn.

The house is silent. Too quiet.

He kicks the door shut behind him, the noise louder than it should be, reverberating through the walls. He freezes for a second, holding his breath, hoping that his mother isn’t awake now, from that sound only. He doesn’t want to deal with her—not now. But of course, the creak of the floorboards in the hallway answers his silent plea, and he hears her footsteps before he even sees her.

Mitsuki, of course, appears at the top of the stairs, her expression initially blank, but then it shifts. Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of him; his bloodied face, his torn-up hero costume, the way he’s swaying slightly on his feet, his face lit, only by the screen of his phone.

She rushes down the stairs in a frenzy.

“Katsuki?” Her voice is tight, laced with a mixture of surprise and concern, but it doesn’t take long for the anger to seep into her tone.

When she reaches him, she grabs him by the arm, steadying him with a grip that’s deceptively strong for someone who isn’t as physically imposing as him.

“You’re a goddamn mess,�� she hisses, her red eyes scanning him with an expert gaze, noting the blood trickling down his face and his furiously bruised cheekbone, “What the hell happened?”

Katsuki opens his mouth to respond, but his words slur slightly, the pain of everything catching up to him. “Nothing. I’m fine.” He tries to brush her off, but his voice cracks as he sways on his feet, almost losing his balance.

“Fine!? Fine?” Mitsuki’s voice sharpens, rising in volume as she pulls him further into the house, her hand pushing him toward the couch. “You’re barely standing, and you’re covered in blood! You think I’m gonna just let that slide?”

“M gonna go bathe, go to sleep ma” he says dismissively, too silently, hissing at the way his jaw clenches before storming off to the downstairs bathroom.

Mitsuki watches him for a long, tense moment as he stumbles toward the bathroom, clearly not even close to being in the state to do anything for himself. But she’s already too far gone to let him do this alone. Her anger is bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over as she takes a step forward, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re not going anywhere, Katsuki!” she snaps, her voice echoing down the hallway. Without waiting for him to turn around, she grabs his arm again, yanking him back toward her.

Katsuki stumbles forward, but she shoves him down onto the couch, and for a brief second, the world tilts dangerously. He grits his teeth, trying to steady himself, but the dizziness doesn’t let up. His vision blurs, and for a moment, everything feels muffled. He can hear the rapid beat of his heart in his ears, drowning out everything else.

Mitsuki stands over him, arms crossed, her eyes flicking over his body with that sharp, cutting gaze of hers “You’re gonna strain yourself like this, you have to rest.”

“No. No I don’t”

“Don’t give me that shit kid.”

“Oh” he chuckles, looking up at her with full blown eyes “I ain’t giving you any shit Ma. ‘M perfectly fine”

“Right, because isolating yourself and running yourself into the ground is so much better.” She glares at him, voice dropping into something softer, almost concerned. “You barely come home anymore, and when you do, you’re either exhausted or pissed off. This isn’t sustainable, Katsuki. You’ve always been bratty, but this? Why do you always want to get yourself killed?”

He clenches his jaw, looking away, shoulders tense. He hates this—hates feeling like a kid again, like she can still see right through him no matter how much distance he tries to put between them and he definitely hates the fact that his mother has to see him like this. Weakened. Like he’s sixteen with a pierced heart again.

Mitsuki sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You should at least spend time with your friends. What about Izuku? He was asking about you the other day.”

That makes Bakugo bristle instantly. “What about him?”

She gives him a look, like he’s being difficult on purpose. “You know. Maybe you should take a page out of his book—he’s got a healthy work-life balance. And he’s got time to check in on people.”

“Yeah? Good for him.” Bakugo’s voice is flat, but his fists tighten at his sides. He brings out his phone again, trying to check the time—it’s 3.12 am, but instead of actually remembering the time on the screen, he sees that stupid photo of you and him as his lock screen.

His mother notices, says something about how ‘you haven’t even called her’ that you’re the same as him. That she sent you a text on messenger about Izuku the other day and you didn’t respond.

Katsuki hates that his mother so casually mentions you in this conversation, like she can make up for the way she’s been speaking to him so far.

His breath catches, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he scoffs, shoving his phone into his pocket like the sight of it suddenly pisses him off.

“Tch. She’s busy.”

Mitsuki raises an eyebrow. Of course, she doesn’t stop at lecturing him about work, she has to mention you. You, in the same sentence with Izuku. Like she’s not the reason you haven’t come back in Musutafu for so long. It makes him so extremely mad.

“You should call her. Go to Tokyo with Izuku. Help set them up. It’ll do good to you.”

Katsuki’s eyes snap impossibly open at her words “who? Me? I ain’t you. I ain’t setting anyone up. They’re both shit for all I care. I ain’t going to Tokyo just to set that idiot up with her. And I’m not gonna see anyone who doesn’t want to see me”

Lies. Lies. Fucking lies. He wants to see you so hellishly bad.

He gets beat up by a villain and all he wants to do is come to you, wrap his arms around you and drown in that comforting cradle that you’ve got. And you’re in fucking Tokyo for all he cares, because his mother and Izuku and then himself, pressured you into two different choices the last time you were here.

He can still fucking see you in his kitchen, trying to help his mother put the dishes away. He can still feel you kissing his neck, in his car, that same damn night, when he told you he’d beat the shit out of his childhood friend for wanting to get with you.

He wonders if that’s how you felt, four years ago, when he asked you to let him eat you out so he could practice— to do it to someone else.

You’ve never made it weird. Never judged him. You kept giving and giving and he kept taking for three whole years and instead of manning up asking you to be with him, he let things boil to a shimmer and die down.

Now you’ve been in Tokyo for two whole months. You haven’t visited home at all.

“I don’t need a fucking day off.” His voice is sharp, tired, like he’s barely holding himself together. “And I don’t need to hang out with anyone. I'm not going to waste my time setting anyone up.”

The truth is, he doesn’t want to set you up with anyone but himself and he doesn’t even know how to do that.

“Just because you keep running yourself to the ground doesn’t mean no one else can’t be happy!”

“Huh?” Katsuki asks, like a menace, like he’s so furious at his mother for speaking profanities “I'm perfectly happy being a hero!”

Mitsuki scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, please. You’re a goddamn mess, and you know it. At least help her and Izuku be happy, get yourself someone too! You’re twenty fi—“

“I don’t fucking want anyone, I ain’t got time for this shit!”

Katsuki grits his teeth then hisses, his hands shaking where they’re clenched into fists against his thighs. His head is still pounding, his vision still swimming slightly from exhaustion and blood loss, but nothing—nothing, makes him feel worse than hearing his mother talk about you and Izuku in the same fucking sentence. Hearing her trying to scold him at late am im the morning about being single.

How did this fight—that was originally spurt by his battered state, turn into this?

Right.

It’s because for him, everything somehow leads back to you.

No matter how much time passes, no matter how much distance stretches between you, no matter how much he tries to drown himself in the job and pretend it doesn’t eat at him—it really fucking does.

His mother is still staring him down, exasperation written all over her face, but Katsuki barely sees her anymore. His pulse is pounding in his chest and ears and his jaw is clenched so tight it might crack. He sways slightly on his feet, exhaustion threatening to drag him under, but the anger burning in his chest keeps him upright.

“They’re your friends. For god’s sake”

He doesn’t know who he’s angrier at; Mitsuki, for bringing this shit up and merging into this matter like it’s her business? Izuku, for even being in the damn equation? Or himself, for not shutting this down the second your name left her mouth.

He knows he’s not mad at you though. So that’s got to count for something.

“You’re fucking delusional,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “You really think I give a shit about some dumb romance? You really think I’ve got time to play matchmaker?”

Mitsuki gives him a long, unimpressed look. “I think you’ve got time to be miserable and angry every damn day, so yeah, maybe you could afford to think about something else for once.”

“Ma—”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes. “You know Izuku’s interested. He told me so himself, and I think she likes him. I don’t see why you have to act so weird about it.” Mitsuki doesn’t notice the way he jerks at that. “You do want her to be happy, don’t you? What’s wrong with giving them a little push?”

His grip on the back of the couch tightens, his breath ragged. “I don’t care what they do,” he lies, and it tastes awful. He absolutely cares about what you do. “Just leave me alone. Wanna wash this blood off me”

He takes off with that— pushes off the couch with any strength he has and gets on his feet. Ready to fleet, ready to rest in the comfort of the downstairs bathroom that he so likes in this house.

And he wobbles, he fucking wobbles. He’s beaten up so bad he really fucking wobbles like a toddler learning to walk.

“Katsuki” Mitsuki snaps towards him, ready to give her full weight to support him and he winces. He wants her away. He’s so tired that he wants everyone to be at least a mile away from him.

“Tch. I just said im fine”

Mitsuki doesn’t buy it for a goddamn second. But he’s fucking fine. At least—he has to be.

He forces his legs to work, trudging toward the bathroom with slow, heavy steps. Every inch of him aches, every breath stings, but he doesn’t stop. He won’t. Not until he’s behind a locked door, away from Mitsuki, away from her damn nagging, away from the thoughts clawing at his skull like they’re trying to tear their way out.

His fingers fumble with the doorknob, slick with sweat and dried blood, but he forces it open, stepping inside and shutting it behind him with more force than necessary. The click of the lock sliding into place echoes in the quiet.

And finally, after an excruciating double shift, a villain with a stupid muscle power quirk and his mother, he’s alone.

Katsuki exhales sharply, leaning against the sink, gripping the cold marble so tight his knuckles go white. His reflection stares back at him from the mirror, slightly swollen, bruised. His lip is split, dried blood crusting over it, and there’s a deep gash above his brow that still oozes sluggishly down the side of his face. The bruise at his cheekbone shines through it all like a movie star on a red carpet premiere.

He looks like shit. He knows that much.

He scoffs bitterly at himself before turning the faucet on, letting the water run warm. He peels his hero costume -whatever’s left of it- off piece by piece, each movement stiff, his muscles protesting as the adrenaline wears off completely. The fabric clings to his skin where the blood has dried, and he hisses when he finally manages to strip the last of it away, standing bare in the dim light of the bathroom.

His body is littered with bruises, deep and ugly, blooming across his chest, ribs, and arms. He traces his fingers over a few of them while looking at himself in the mirror before shaking his head and stepping into the shower.

The moment the hot water hits his skin, a groan rips from his throat. His body slackens, his forehead pressing against the cool tile as steam fills the space around him. The heat soothes some of the ache, washing away the blood and grime, but it does nothing for the real problem.

Nothing washes you away.

A year ago you said you two should stop fucking around. He said yes. No more casual sex, no more getting in between your legs almost every Friday night when you’d arrive at the train station. No more one on one time at night at all, in his car.

A year ago, he said he’d be a good friend. You did too. But you ghosting him for two months and then replying to him three days after his initial text with the desire to see him, deems him unable to keep his word.

He hates it. Hates how even now, even here, when he should be focusing on breathing through the pain of his body, his mind still drags him back to you. To the message on his phone. To the two months of silence that stretch between you like a fucking canyon that was broken tonight with that wrecking ball of a sentence.

It’s stupid. It’s nothing. It’s a simple fucking sentence, but it’s you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, fists clenching at his sides. He wants to hear your voice. He wants to tell you to come back. Offer you a job at his agency too.

He wants to demand to know if you miss him like he misses you—if you ache for him the way he aches for you. He wants to make this shitty fucking joke of entanglement end and make you his officially.

Dammit, he just wants the normality of you.

He can’t let anyone swoosh you away from him.

He sighs.

Tokyo is three hours away, but at this time the roads are empty and truthfully, he’d be better if he could see you too.

Exiting the bathroom, he’s already set on a decision for tonight. He throws on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants; the set of gray ones that you got him for his birthday two years ago, jokingly saying it’s an outfit for your eyes only, and rampages through his clothes for another change.

With a backpack that’s too out of sight, he scoffs, running a finger through his damp hair. He's too frantic about this, but he’s going to do it.

Mitsuki crosses her arms, unimpressed, standing right at the doorframe of his room.

“Where are you going now? You’re gonna go sleep at the agency? Get a bed in there won’t you?” She jabs and Katsuki stares at her so intensely, backpack finally in his sight and hand that he feels his look could pierce through her.

The sound of Bakugo’s palm slamming against the edge of the bed as he grabs at his clothes makes her jump.

“Stay the fuck out of it,” he growls.

“You’re gonna wake up your father if you keep yelling like that”

“I'm going to Tokyo” he finally announces, after a moment of silence. He wants to be calm. He wants to be with you.

Mitsuki blinks at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice is low, rough, like he’s barely keeping himself in check.

“But she and Izuku, they—“

“They’re not a fucking they.” His breathing is harsh, eyes blazing with fury. “I wanted her first. Got her first and you don’t get to decide shit for her. Stop with this fucking Izuku bullshit. If you wanna play matchmaker do it for me and her”

Mitsuki studies him for half a second before scoffing. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you actually—”

Katsuki doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, but she sees the way his grip tightens around the backpack’s edge.

Mitsuki exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ.” She shakes her head and smiles “You do like her.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Bakugo’s fingers twitch. His mouth opens, then closes. His heart is pounding, but he refuses to let it show.

“You’re gonna strain yourself like this, you have to rest. Go tomorrow ”

“I don’t wanna rest,” he snaps, voice low and razor-sharp. “Can’t fucking rest, so what do you want?”

Mitsuki glares at him, arms crossed tight. “Don’t you dare start with me, Katsuki. You come home at three in the goddamn morning looking like that— you’re not going to Tokyo in the middle of the fucking night.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.”

Mitsuki pinches the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. She looks at him the way she always has when he’s being especially difficult—like she’s two seconds away from wringing his neck and kissing his forehead all in the same breath.

“Katsuki.” Her voice is sharp but edged so sweetly. Right underneath. “You can barely stand.”

“I can stand just fine.”

“You were wobbling like a damn drunkard ten minutes ago.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m going.”

“You’re just gonna show up at her door? At this hour? Looking like that?”

Katsuki’s grip on his backpack tightens. Yeah. That’s exactly what he’s gonna do. That's the plan.

Mitsuki exhales slowly, shaking her head. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“M not,” he admits, “but I don’t care.”

He steps past her, brushing against her shoulder as he heads for the door. Mitsuki doesn’t stop him this time, just lets him go with a sigh that sounds resigned. She’s too tired too.

Katsuki pauses, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His mother’s voice follows him like a shadow.

“Be careful”

He doesn’t respond. Just pulls the door open and steps outside, rushing to his car.

The roads are empty and he’s driving a porche.

Tokyo is three hours away— but he’s gripping the steering wheel like he can cut that time in half. The dashboard clock glares at him, bright in the dark.

3:45 am.

He doesn’t care. He barely even feels the bruises tightening over his ribs as he shifts in his seat, pushing the car faster down the highway.

He should call, let you know, ask you why you’re up so late, ask what you’re doing, ask if you’re even okay with him coming to fucking Tokyo in the middle of the night just because he wants to hold you.

Instead—He sends you a text.

_____

Katsuki <3: Where the fuck are you?

You blink at the screen, heart stuttering in your chest.

It’s four in the morning. You weren’t expecting him to respond—especially not this late, and definitely not like this.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You could play it off, tell him you’re just out with coworkers, that it’s nothing. But there’s something about the way he texted you that makes your stomach twist.

You: Izakaya in Shibuya

Katsuki <3: You drinking?

You hesitate at first. What does it matter if you are? You’re not his girlfriend. Hell, you’re barely even friends at this point—not after two months of silence, not after you stopped responding like a coward. You’ve been nothing but unfair to him and yet, you reply, perhaps out of the newfound boldness of sake. Like this damn exchange of messages means anything.

You: yes

You set your phone to the side, get sucked into any conversation thats going on in the background

But then, before you can reply to whatever question Aiko shoots at you, your phone buzzes again.

Katsuki <3: R u drunk?

The words send a shiver down your spine.

“Hey, everything okay?” Aiko’s voice pulls you back to the present. She’s leaning toward you, brows raised in concern. You force a smile, nodding as you flip your phone facedown after typing the fastest reply in the world.

You: eh idk

You: why?

Not a lie. Not the whole truth, either.

Katsuki <3: just checking

You’re restless now. Your fingers tap against the side of your glass, your pulse thrumming in time with the background music. Bakugo shouldn’t have this effect on you anymore—not after all these years, not after everything.

And yet a lump forms in your throat.

If he wanted to, he would.

Maybe this is just nothing. He’s just bored. Just finished a night shift. Maybe he’s drunk and picking at a wound he doesn’t even realize he left behind.

Part of you wants to ask if he’s doing okay, if work at his own agency has been treating him right lately. But you don’t. You’re lost in your own trance of thoughts.

You want to fucking leave this place. You want to go home. Stare at the screen of your phone, at that two worded response until the sun is up.

“So if you date anyone, you’ll invite us to your wedding?” Aiko asks, giggling over her own glass.

Oh right, the topic of conversation is romance once again.

If you could vomit your heart out on demand, you would.

“My imaginary wedding? Yeah yeah”

You quickly start to think of ways to run away from this place to go home, but none of them do. You just have to rip the bandaid off and do it.

“Promiiiise!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Alright, I promise, though I have to go, I got a big report to fill out tomorrow and I need to make sure I’m awake enough to handle all of you!”

As you stand up to leave, Aiko leans across the table, her expression suddenly serious. “Don’t fall for any villain on the way home”

“Yeah, please dont, text us when you get home!” Watanabe adds, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “You know we’re always here for you”

You smile, feeling a warmth in your chest at their support, but secretly you wish this was your friend group back home saying all this to you “I will, I promise! Thanks for tonight, you guys. It was… surprisingly fun.”

When you finish gathering your things, Watanabe leans forward, an adorning grin plastered on his face. “Wait a second! I’ll call you a cab it’s almost five am”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze for a moment, caught off guard. “Uh, thank you so much,” you say quickly.

“No problem! Get home safe and let us know you’re safe”

You give them one last smile, your heart lighter than when you first arrived. “Alright, alright! I’ll keep you posted!”

As you make your way to the exit, you can still hear their laughter and playful teasing trailing behind you. You can’t help but feel lighter as you step out into the cool Tokyo night, the city alive with its usual energy.

The streetlights cast a warm glow around you, and the chill in the air feels refreshing against your skin. Your thoughts drift back to the teasing, the laughter, and the moments shared. There’s something about it all that ignites a spark of hope within you. Maybe it was time you made a hear out of permanently living in Tokyo.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

Taglist: @littlebignoona @cielito--lindo @hopingforgoodblogs @sexylexy12 @bestyouveevermet @dreamingoftomorrow @2elusional @meeeepsworld @psicotropicwanderlust @katsucookies @xxkay15xx @drabby-abby @ryuucollapse @jennatollsthings @ihatethis222

Sorry if I’ve missed anyone. I will be updating it in the morning

[sonic-takeover]

Shadow it's okay, they even followed your no kissing rule for today dude. Silver's happy, isn't that a good thing? And he even picked someone who Sonic knows well enough to trust. Just cool your jets. They both like each other and they went on a nice date to confess; this is the normal expected outcome. They just don't have as much baggage between them as you and Sonic did, but that's a good thing for them. You should be happy for them. Espio is also totally respecting Silver's boundaries so it's all very nice and chill and he doesn't deserve a beating. 😅

Silver has only known of his feelings for a few days. I won't let Espio take advantage of that. *He reaches the clearing, eyes narrowing when he sees Espio laying on the blanket, his hands behind his head. Silver is up in the tree above him, laughing and talking to him as he lounges into the branches. They look... Happy. Shadow hesitates for just a moment. He stumbles as Amy shoves past him to stand between him and the happy couple, her piko hammer gripped in her hands. She glares at him*

Not one more step, Shadow!

*Shadow glares at her, squaring his shoulders* Amy. What are you doing here?

*She points her hammer at him* I'm here to stop your reign of heartbreak. You can't get in the way of love!

Oh please. You watch too much romance crap.

*Amy gasps dramatically* You love romance crap! How dare you!

I know. Which is why I know you watch too much of it. I'm here to keep them from going too far.

They don't need that, Shadow! Look! They're happy!

.... I can see that. But I must make it clear to Espio that-

Shads!

Chaos..

*Sonic stops next to him, grabbing his arm* Dude, stop. I know you're trying to give Silver the parental experience you never had, but he doesn't need or want that. Not like this.

.... Oh.. You see yourself in Silver, don't you..

No! Shut up! *He pulls his arm from Sonic's grip* Go home. You shouldn't be up, and you especially shouldn't be running.

Nah, the anons healed me. It's fine. *He looks over at the date. His expression melts into a smile* Aww.. Cute, hah..

Right? They're such a cute couple!

*Shadow grumbles under his breath, grabbing Sonic's hand and marching back the way he came*

Woah- Babe, what..?

You want me to let him get hurt, I'll let him get hurt. I'm not gonna stand here where they'll see us.

*Sonic watches him for a moment, then laces his fingers with Shadow's* He'll be okay, babe. He may be a sweetie, but he's not an idiot. If he needs advice, we're here. That's the best we can do.

..... I suppose.

Mhm! *Amy runs over to walk alongside them* It's sweet you care so much, Shadow. I'm sure Silver is really grateful. But it's okay to let him move forward, even if it's scary.

... When I first fell for Sonic.. *He glances at Sonic, who smiles at him* I didn't make any moves. For years. And I'm glad I didn't, because if I had, I would have embarrassed myself. It was important for our relationship to take it slow.

*Sonic kisses the back of Shadow's hand* Yeah, it was. We needed time to figure out the difference between rivalry and love. But they don't have that. They don't need that time, they already know the difference.

.... True...

*Amy bumps her shoulder into Shadow's* I think you just like getting to act like a dad~

*Shadow casts her a glare*

You'll do great when you and Sonic get kids of your own someday~ Hehe~

*Sonic chokes on air, coughing. Shadow rubs his back. His ears are red* Enough, Amy. Go home. Sonic is feeling better, so we're going to race.

Ack- Ugh.. Yeah. Gotta stretch my legs. Thanks Ames.

No problem you two~ Have fun! *She giggles and runs ahead*

..... Gaia help us..

Mhm..

[zeldalizzy]

Mulan and Legend!! This one was so much fun! I definitely challenged myself with the background, but my favorite scene from the original Disney cartoon was the scene where Mulan's father sits with her on the stone bench beneath the cherry blossoms and encourages her. So, I kinda wanted to honor that in this one!!

I think that Legend would really respect Mulan; not only is she caring, smart, and kind, but she is also super tough and strong and a brave warrior!! She definitely could hold her own as Hero of Courage. So I think that Legend would really listen to her advice and her words of wisdom.

Sooooo I know the LU fandom loves to torture poor Legend, but I wanted to give him a break here 😂 He deserves it for sure!! Also, the pink flowers would perhaps remind him of... someone else, which would be a bittersweet moment for him.

I imagine that in this scene he kinda opens up to her about his own troubles and she encourages him with her own stories of her trials and successes, and how it all worked out in the end!

Anyways, sorry to ramble! I hope you all like it!! Thanks so much for your support!! Have a wonderful day/night! 🩵

[nattikay]

Hello, my name is NattiKay, and welcome to my blog! Before you follow, there’s a thing you should know about how I do fandom.

Basically, it can take one of two forms. The first is casual fandoms—this includes various media I enjoy and will like/reblog posts about, maybe even doodle for on rare occasions. I can have several of these simultaneously.

But the second—and much more visible—is a “main” fandom, which you can also call hyperfixation or special interest if you wish. I only have one of these at a time, it lasts for years, and it pretty much takes over my life and blog during that time. Once every few years or so my brain will latch on to a new “main” fandom—I don’t know what triggers it to switch, and I have zero control over when it happens or to what.

My current special-interest fandom is Avatar (James Cameron/blue people), with a bonus mini-fixation on the Na'vi language. My favorite characters are the Sully family and much of my art focuses on them right now.

Previous special-interest fandoms that I’ve had during my time on tumblr are, in descending order of recency:

Trollhunters/Tales of Arcadia Miraculous Ladybug Inuyasha

I make this distinction to say that if you recently found this blog through fanart of one of these previous fixations and followed hoping for more, I’m sorry to say you’re going to be disappointed.

When my fixation switches, I loose interest in actively creating content for the previous fandom because all my energy gets dedicated to the new one. This does not at all mean that I no longer like the previous ones—I may still reblog posts about them here and there—just that I no longer have the inspiration to be producing a bunch of art/comics/etc for them the way I used to. They’ve essentially moved from main fandom to casual fandoms. Yes, this will happen one day for my current fixation too, though I have no way of predicting when.

I will not be offended if you follow me during one fixation and then unfollow when it switches. I will also not be offended if you recently found this blog through my old content from previous fandoms and then choose not to follow because of this post: like I said, if you follow hoping for new art from those, you’re gonna be let down 😅

[adore-gregor]

not sure this post reaches the right target audience

[alonelystargazer]

so I'm doing the final round of editing and this chapter is over 8500 words and I'm like 85% sure I can get it published tomorrow, if not on Sunday for sure

[mitamicah]

Guys; i made my first bracelet 🤭

@formulalakana I dont manage to get other made by monday then this one is for you 🤗

[reineydraws]

summary of art 2023! here are some of my fave (non-zine) pieces from every month this year :) i'm most happy with the way my digital colouring process has improved from last year 🎉 it's easier now to make things look less flat after some tricks i picked up and practiced throughout the year ✨️✨️

thank you for all your support! it's always a pleasure and a delight to see your tags and comments in my notes. it really picked me up this year when i needed it. :')💖 let's all have a great 2024!

pieces: jan / feb / mar / apr / may / jun / jul / aug / sep / oct / nov / dec

[aviatrix-ash]

Oh hey looks like we can now get an official Megatron scooter 😆 too bad it doesn't come in pink like his actual scooter

tho tbh they could have put a little more effort into the design for a Megatron theme :')

[applecherry108]

So. Sonic 3 hit streaming and I finally had a day off. So I finally finally got to watch all the Sonic movies. Finally. 😂

Ofc they were lots of fun, but what surprised me the most was how…immediate, stobotnik was. 😂 idk why but I had this idea that he was assigned to be the mad scientist wrangler in the first movie and slowly fell for him. But nope! Immediately introduced as #1 henchman and simp extraordinaire. 😂😂 also just how….blatant, it is. Like that’s not subtext, that’s just text. Even before I watched the movies I knew I liked Stone, but holy heck I absolutely NEED him to be a series mainstay from now on. 😭💗

[adore-gregor]

i'm back on tumblr (again)

[nerdie-faerie]

I made it to America, apparently needing to know geography would've been helpful

[theflyingfeeling]

fic talk in the tags 💝

[alchemiclee]

I have so many photos I need to post. 15 years worth!!! I started posting them on my old tumblr's side blog but never finished and then I abandoned tumblr for years. but tbh I feel like posting my work doesn't benefit me and it's just more pointless work for me 😭 especially instagram and twitter where my posts get maybe 1 like from a follower if i'm lucky and that's it. why do I even bother 😭 no one is excited to see my work so it'd hard to motivate myself to actually share anything when it doesn't benefit me and when no one else is excited for or looking forward to it. sometimes I lose that "I made a thing I want to share it like a kid hanging their finger painting on the fridge" mentality 😅 even kids can get discouraged and give up sharing if you don't ooo and ahhh over their work. does that make sense?

[avirael]

Do A’vi and Rael have favorite foods/comfort dishes they like? Or drinks? (Also no pressure to answer right away/at all ‘v’ I just thought it would be interesting to know :0)

Thank you! That’s a very nice question! 💖

In Rael’s case I wrote a little birthday story last december that actually included them being homesick and trying to remember the smell of the carrot cake their mother always used to make for them. She also used to make excellent herbal teas and Rael hasn’t found any other place yet that serves something comparable.

Other than that Rael is not particularly picky or prone to get emotional over something so normal as food. But something that will always remind them of their happy childhood days in the Golmore Jungle is the taste of blackberries and wild strawberries.

-

For A‘viloh the situation is a little different. He likes sweets a lot and is very likely to eat an unhealthy amount of chocolate when he’s feeling unhappy or a big bowl of ice cream (but only on days that are warm enough for that!). The sweeter the better!

There is no particular taste that reminds him of his real family or home, he was too young when he lost both. The food at the Forgotten Springs had always been great but sweets had been a very rare occurrence. A‘vi remembers fondly how Laqa and the other boys often tried to steal dates from their mother‘s food supplies and sometimes - when they hadn’t gotten caught - Laqa would share his loot with him. So you could absolutely say dates are his favourite treat.

[chloelouygo]

I bought a linkin park cd today and my mum has already stolen it for her car-