#ground zero's MHA fics

[dr-ground-zero]

No way!

(This is a Kiribaku snzfic for my medical AU. obviously all characters are over 18 for this)

Dating? Katsuki? Hell no, no way in hell would he date, especially not a co-worker! Not a chance!

No one actually thought Katsuki would date anyone. Besides who’d like him back, right? And he was glad to keep it that way. He didn’t need everyone up in his love life. Keeping up his loud mouth angry man persona did the job while he did his. Tending to patients in his ER. He was fixing hearts not letting the big redhead sweetheart play with his~ Totally not having the stupidest crush on the radiologist, nope, no way! And there’s no way in hell that he had a date planned for the two of them to go out to dinner after their shift ended!

No fucking way!

And not a chance in the world that he had gotten sick the day of their date.

“Dammit! Stupid fucking germs!” He grumbled to himself while blowing his nose in the bathroom hoping no one else could hear him. Leaning against the cold tile wall, he pressed his wrist to his forehead as he sighed. There was no way in hell he was canceling this date over the sniffles! He wasn’t running a fever, and if so it was low-grade at best! He looked at his watch, he only had to survive two more hours and he was home free! He could do this, he lasted the other 8 hours, and two more would be a piece of cake!

Looking in the mirror he straightened himself up after watching his hands. Good gods did he look tired, I mean he could just blame it on the 11 almost 12-hour shift! Dark circles under his dull red eyes, the pinkness on his cheeks and nose being the only color to his face. His hair disheveled as if no matter how much he brushed his hands through it, it would go right back to looking like a mess! Who cares not like he’d-

“Oh hey, Katsuki!” Shit. Right as Katsuki walked out of the bathroom he was met by Eijirou who was holding a tablet in his hands.

“Hey, did you get the imaging done?” Katsuki asked, Eijirou nodded before pointing out the paleness on the other’s face.

“You alright? You look pale” Waving off his concerns Katsuki referred back to the imaging results. Shrugging Eijirou handed Katsuki the tablet as they walked back over to the nurse’s station. As they did Katsuki did his best to ignore the buzzing in his sinuses, dear god it was annoying! But he didn’t need this escalating, so he just gave his bridge a subtle rub in hopes of pushing it away. Talking through it didn’t help though.

“Yeah, everything appears ready to r-relocate, the swelling’s down a-and, and no n-nerves have gotten s-stuck.” The more he talked the stronger that buzzing got, spreading through his nose as if it wanted a full exorcism of what was irritating it. Maybe he could get away with just stifling it, right? Shouldn’t be too bad, just one and-

“H’Knggnt! Heh’aengt! Kgnnt! Ugh” “Oh bless you, you okay?” “huh? Yeah yeah I’mb fide, sorry.” Katsuki reassured while roughly rubbing at his nose between his pinched fingers. Though Eijirou wasn’t convinced, he hesitated on pressing the matter. Eijirou knew how the doctor could be when it came to things, so he just decided to keep an eye on him.

After going over the results, Katsuki went to go off to his patient but before he could leave Eijirou asked him.

“We still on for tonight?” His voice was low enough so not many could hear, Katsuki nodded and gave a quiet.

“Of course, no reason to cancel, why?” “just checking in, ya know if you’re not feeling good we can always reschedule.” “Over my dead body, shitty hair, I’mb perfectly fide.” “Alright alright, if you say so. Can’t wait~” Eijirou said before practically skipping off to his next scan. Katsuki huffed and leaned against the large desk wall of the station when.

“Aaaw someone doesn’t wanna admit to their work hubby they’re sick~” Katsuki whipped his head around to see a bright-eyed smirking blond behind the desk. Okay, maybe one person knew about him and Eijirou. Katsuki frowned and glared at him.

“Shut up, Duracell I’mb fide, and stop callig him that!” He barked, Denki rolled his eyes still dawning his proud smirk as he twirled a pen between his fingers.

“Oh please Katsuki, even I can see that you’re sick, you sound awful.” “I do dnot sound awful!” “uh-huh, you sound congested and your throat sounds like it hurts.” Katsuki sneered at the other doctor questioning what the hell he wanted hoping to steer the subject away from his obvious cold.

“Oh, nothing just came here to watch you two love birds stare at each other, and to finish charting.” “We were dnot staring w-we we” Ugh that stupid tickle was back with vengeance! Katsuki turned away once again to squash down the oncoming fit.

“H’knggxt Eh’enk! Gxxng! NGT’CHih! Guh, ugh dabmit” Denki the tissue box over to him with a look of concern.

“Bless you, you sure you don’t wanna cancel?” Snatching up a handful of tissues to blow his nose, Katsuki once again stated.

“Over. my. dead. body” Then blew his nose harshly, you could hear just how stuffed up he was. And all the pressure from this made his head hurt. He swallowed a groan and tried to compose himself, looking back at his watch he sighed. Time needed to go faster!

When his shift had finally ended Katsuki was ready to go to bed! He trudged into the locker room to put his lab coat into his locker and put on some more casual clothes. Thankfully he had the decency to bring his date night outfit with him. Seeing as it was late December almost January the outfit was a warm one, but that didn’t help with the god-awful chill creeping into his achy body. As he makes it out to the parking lot he’s practically smacked with the power gust of wind. Pulling his coat around him to try and shield himself from the frigid air, Katsuki looked for Eiijrou. He didn’t see him, was he still inside? Was he running late? I swear if he forgot again!

It was too cold to be out here, thankfully it wasn’t snowing yet but still, it was cold! Being out here was not doing him any favors. His nose was running like crazy, sniffling and rubbing at it only made it angrier and the dry air was killing his throat! Blasted shitty hair where the fuck are you! Before Katsuki could even register as the chilly breeze swept through his body mustering up a sneeze he didn’t have time to stifle.

“HAAASTTIIEEW!” “Bless you blasty” Katsuki froze in place hearing that nickname, and then he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder. When he looked up he was met with that familiar loving shark-toothed grin and red hair. Katsuki tried to act like he wasn’t impressed and grumbled out.

“The hell were you?” “Sorry sorry, my locket got jammed so I couldn’t get into it. Had to get help.” “You ready or dnot?” “hm, yeah, we’re taking my car since I know you walked to work. Plus I know you don’t wanna walk over to the restaurant-” Before Eijirou could finish he could hear the soft hitches coming from Katsuki. Looking over he watched as the blond’s shoulders hiked and how his hands fanned at his face lightly before grabbing at his nose.

“Huh!’kgnnk! Uh’hnnk! Ugh” “Bless you, you shouldn’t do that you know” Eijirou chastised lightly, Katsuki rolled his eyes at this.

“I’b fide, Eijirou” “Uh-huh, you sound sick.” “dno I dodn’t I feel perf-feeh heh! Ugh, perfectly fide.” Eijirou unlocked his car and opened the door for Katsuki so he could get inside first before getting in on the driver’s side. Locking the doors and starting the car, Eijirou couldn’t ignore the exhaustedness on Katsuki’s face, the coughing, or the sniffling. As he drove out of the lot he let Katsuki know where were some tissues in the glove compartment which he silently took.

When they got to a red light Eijirou looked over to check on Katsuki who was huddled in the passenger seat shivering and holding a tissue to his red nose. Eijirou reached over and pressed the back of his hand to Katsuki’s forehead, this got a surprised look out of him and a.

“The fuck are you doig, shitty hair?” “Feeling your forehead, you’re running warm.” “the hell are you talking about I-I ih huh i’b freezig” “That’s probably the fever talking, alright, we’re taking a detour,” Eijirou said clicking on his turn signal, Katsuki looked a little confused wondering what he meant by that. Eijirou then turned on the seat heater for Katsuki’s seat. He watched as the blond relaxed once the warmth of it settled in. Instead of turning towards their original destination for their dinner Eijirou turned to a convenience store. He told Katsuki to stay in the car, the heat would stay on. Leaving Katsuki inside, he remained curled up enjoying the warmth of Eijirou’s car. Since he was alone he tried blowing his nose once again but he was way too congested. Nothing was moving, his nose was completely blocked! What the hell was Eijirou doing in there anyway? When Eijirou did come back out after what felt like forever with some bags. Katsuki asked about what he had bought and all Eijirou said was.

“We’re still gonna have our date, that’s all you need to worry your pretty lil head about~” With that said Eijirou started driving again this time turning down to Katsuki's apartment. Katsuki was still perplexed why was he taking Katsuki home? He was fine, sure probably not the best but he’d be fine if he took some medicine. Eijirou found a place to park, grabbed the bags, and opened Katsuki’s car side door.

“Come on let's get you inside” Pulling Katsuki to him by the waist as they walked into the apartment complex. Katsuki flinched a tad but didn’t pull away and just followed Eijirou inside. Making it to Katsuki's apartment, Katsuki unlocked the door to let them inside. Eijirou told him to get comfortable on the couch and to pick out a movie. Slipping off his shoes and shrugging off his coat, Katsuki lazily nodded and trudged over to the couch while asking what Eijirou was doing. Eijirou set down the bag of items and went through them, placing some of them on the coffee table.

“You like tea right?” “huh yeah” “That’s what I thought.” He says while grabbing a tea box and then grabbing the thermometer he had in his backpack he carries around. Holding it up to Katsuki’s mouth he asks him to open up so he can take his temperature. Katsuki took the tool out of his hand and put it in his mouth himself while grumbling.

“You dodn’t dneed to take care of bme” Kirishima then planted a soft kiss on Katsuki’s forehead before heading to the kitchen leaving the blond blushing and flustered. What’d he do that for?! Leaning back into the couch cushions with a surprised look on his face, what the hell did he do to score such a sweet guy?! While waiting for the thermometer to beep his nose went from completely blocked to running like a broken faucet. Sniffling with the tool in his mouth wasn’t helping considering he couldn’t breathe well in the first place. He tried sniffling enough to keep the mess at bay but the more he snuffled the worse the brewing tickle got. No matter how careful he was he could feel it spiking and getting close to climaxing. It was like a dangerous balancing act, he didn’t think he could last very long trying to hold back. His eyes watering with desperation and his poor nose twitching with need, he prayed this stupid thing beeped soon. With each hitching breath he knew he was only getting closer to losing control, already his hand searching for a tissue just in case, he knew this was gonna be explosive, to say the least.

Beep beep! FINALLY! Taking the thermometer out of his mouth he grabbed a tissue just barely in time!

“HAAATSSSSHIIEW! HAT’SHIIIEEW! At’SHIIIIEEW!” “bless you!” Called out the redhead, Katsuki groaned as he grabbed for more tissues once he realized that fit soaked the tissue he had in his hands. Pressing more to his nose he gave a loud blow not noticing Eijirou coming around the corner with a mug of tea.

“Goodness, you alright?” “huh yeah I’b fide, just a couple of sneezes.” Handing over the tea, Eijirou took the thermometer looked at the numbers, and frowned.

“38.6 C (101.5F) Yup I knew you were running a fever.” Just as Eijirou finished his sentence he felt the weight on the couch shift and a warmth pressed against his shoulder. Looking over to see Katsuki nestled up tiredly, Eijirou grabbed a nearby blanket and draped it over the blond doctor.

“Tell adyode about this and a-and I-I ihh hih! Hah’knggnk! Kill you” He muttered between sneezes, Eijirou chuckled softly and shifted himself so his back was against the armrest and pillow. Moving Katsuki so he’d lay on his chest in an elevated position.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it till you say it's okay. Now just relax.” Katsuki let out a small noise and curled up a little though not as tense as before, his shivering slowed down as he took on the shared body heat of his partner. Quietly sipping on his tea, Katsuki sighed as the warmth felt good throughout his entire body especially his throat, and the steam was helping with his congestion, albeit killing his tissue supply.

The two spent the night watching a movie together on the couch under the blanket. Katsuki hated that they couldn’t have an actual date like he had planned but, he was okay with this. As long as he got to spend time with his beloved radiologist and med tech, he didn’t care. Turning over he gave Eijirou a soft kiss on the lips and went back to watching the movie pretending like he didn’t just do that. Eijirou on the other hand was bright red in the face looking in shock.

“k-k-Katsuki!?” “hm?” Katsuki hummed trying not to laugh as he could hear the embarrassment in his stammering.

“Y-you kissed me!” “Duh stupid, I’ve done it before,” He says just to mess with him, knowing it would only fluster Eijirou harder. He tried to hide the smirk on his face as he shifted in Eijirou’s lap eyes looking back at the TV. Katsuki wasn’t the best at showing his love for people, usually, it was acts of service and remembering important things about a person. Katsuki didn’t do physical affection, especially not around people. He knew Eijirou lived for it, and well no one else was around~

A few kisses and some cuddling wouldn’t kill him.

As the night went on Katsuki grew tired and wound up falling asleep on Eijirou. Eijirou couldn’t help but snap a picture, plus he could send it to- OH shit! He sent it to the group chat and not just to Katsuki, Shit shit shit shit shit! Maybe people wouldn’t notice?! Fuck why couldn’t he delete it! Stupid ‘no deleting’ policy! Maybe people wouldn’t notice, maybe they’d ignore it!

They didn’t ignore it! The group chat got flooded by morning by a bunch of texts.

“EIJIROU!” Eijirou was shaken from his pleasant sleep hoping that it was all a dream. But there was Katsuki who looked ready to kill him while holding the phone in his hand.

“You sent that stupid pic to the group chat you dumbfuck!” “Hey hey hey I tried to delete it, I’m sorry!” “There’s so much fucking text, god dammit!” “I’m sure it's not that bad” Katsuki then showed him the long string of texts from their colleagues with different reactions. Some said ‘I knew it’ and some said ‘holy shit you two are dating!’ ‘you guys are so cute together!’ ‘finally scored your work husband!’ and many more.

Eijirou sighed and apologized again, this time Katsuki just rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the couch.

“Ugh, it's whatever, they would’ve foud out ehh heh! ETSSSHIIEW! Evedtually” Eijirou passed over a couple of tissues to him before getting up from the couch.

“How about I make you some chicken noodle soup to make it up to you” How could Katsuki turn that offer down, he couldn’t.

“That’ll work~” He said with a lil bit of sass in his tone, when Eijirou went off to the kitchen Katsuki went back to his phone. Rolling his eyes in annoyance when some of the other nurses ‘asked’ “think you could share him? You can’t keep that cutie to yourself”

That annoyed Katsuki, but he wasn’t the possessive type, totally wasn’t. He totally didn’t sneakily take a picture of Eijirou cooking, and send it to his socials. Totally not with the caption

‘Look at my cute boyfriend’

No.way!~

[you-pretty-cute]

help finding fic

I need help finding this fic that read once. It was a bakugo x reader and main character had a job where they would receive anonymous calls from hero’s and they told the reader there life problems. The reader has like a call with Bakugo and he is very mean to her and makes her cry. But he keeps calling back and asking for her and want to talk to her outside of work. The reader also has like very bad luck and like always is getting hurt. Her and Bakugo keep talking and he wants to meet her but she is like no I want to keep my job. Like I am not good at explaining things but I need to know what happened like did she find out it was bakugou??? Lmk if you know what I am talking about

[winxanity-ii]

BAKUGO "GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT" KATSUKI

╰❝𝓝𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓼, 𝓘 𝔀𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮, 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮!❞

🇰‌🇪‌🇾‌: 🔞 = smut | 🔥 = heated/spicy | ✿ = fluff | 🕷 = angst | ✰ = personal fav

FICS

ONE-SHOTS

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 | Bakugo x Fem!Reader / Non-Quirk!AU

HEADCANONS

[aro-aizawa]

pros: very sucinctly describes his quirk; explosive + palm; snappy and quick; not reliant on character development

cons: heavy negative connotations relating to horrific injuries and deaths sustained from use of it in war, many on civilians and is a brutal killer; too creative and simple for bakugou to have come up with on his own

[thisischole]

It’s 2024 and I still get excited when people use “Ground Zero” (the one that makes sense) as Kasuki’s hero name instead of “dynamight” (the one that doesn’t make sense) lol

[bearfoottruck]

FANFIC UPDATE 1-3-2025:

I don't know how many of you out there ship Kacchako, but I did a one-shot about them titled Apologies to the Floating Girl (Fanfiction, AO3). Other than that, I don't have too much except for updates for Gonna Kiss You On the Boulevard (Fanfiction, AO3), Russian Winter, Broken Hearts, and Man vs. Dark Wizard (Fictionpress, AO3).

[thr0wnawayy]

AU Ideas and other Concepts. 1/?)

Authors Note: I apologize for the delay for the upcoming chapters of Crownless Monarchy, I have been working on the next three chapters (at once) and hope to release them sometime soon.

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Hey y'all. I figured I'd let some of these ideas see the light of day. Perhaps one of you can make something of them.

A bit of disclaimer: The way "s/i" isn't the typical. A Self Insert is usually the author putting themselves as a character.

In the MHA Community this is usally done through projecting ones personality through an existing character (ex: Midoriya)

The way I use S/I is a either:

A: A OC with knowledge or awareness of MHA's canon in some form (visions, reincarnation, intution) These characters are usually made up from a collection of different people and experiences, rather than just my own personhood.

A Character like Seven fit this bill.

B: S/I but Ingrained. Aka a S/I that blends and adapts to the world of MHA, their past self is not as relevant (if it's brought up at all) however may play a role in their perspectives and world views.

A Character like Arachne fits this bill (for another post)

With that out of the way, let's start small and work our way up:

Bonuses: (Minor prompts and concepts)

Dabi uses the PLF's connections to give Rei better treatment/conditions at the Hospital, or just transfer her all together to somewhere safe.

The Hood Enji fights is a Twice Clone while the real Hood is elsewhere.

S/I wakes up as Touya after the 3 year coma.

This one's out there: Hood meets Rei and causes a realization through his blunt honesty (f-flowers, iss the bar t-that low?)

Gigantomachia rewrite/replacement (idk, mine said make them motivational rather than denouncing, also make them smart)

a Vigilante group inspired by the 50 Blessings Organization from Hotline Miami

_______________________________________

Event Swap: At Kamino, Enji's crimes are exposed (how is up to you)

Funfact: The above prompt was originally a time travel fic, here's the unfinished script & notes

HPSC gets exposed as well [ Child soldier project] ) (Perhaps this can be added as well?)

Zero was disguised as AFO and sheds her disguse for her grand reveal

Zero twirled around in place, glittering in the moonlight, taking deep breath "Come and serenade with me, Uncle Toshi." she was wild, wild and yet so meticulous.

They were speechless, shell shocked, They were running to the smoke and lost themselves in the fire.

"You're looking glum Endeavor, y'know for someone who's just achieved No1 status, Ya really need to brighten up!" She jeered.

A canon formed out of her forearm, quickly firing a beam of energy. An explosion rocked the district, some heroes barley fleeing in time, others not so fortunate.

She barked a manic laugh, her eyes wide as saucers, onslaught never ceasing, never to falter.

And as she made her great adeau, the nation finally knew that the age of heroism was torn asunder.

_______________________________________

Bonus: After Ms.Curious is killed, S/I posses her body and lives again (Type A: S/I)

Bonus: Strike Back

Class of Aldera is done with Bakugo's shit( Students stand up for Midorya and try to redeem themselves)

( Fingers calls himself a coward for giving into pressure and fear [ was forced to attack Midorya, threatened verbally and physically by Bakugo and became numb to it], is inspired by a David Shield interview to become a scientist )

Star and Stripes' (Cathleen Bate's) Neice, Head of the W.H.A, travels to Japan following AM'S retirement/ Kamino and begins to take over the reigns from the HPSC. Starting with U.A's internships.

Profile: Mary-Ann Bate

Dirty Blonde, 6,2 ft , wavy blonde hair slightly past shoulders, well kempt, suits and pants

Stern attitude, takes no shit, willing to ground Endevour and Hawks's hero licenses

Q: Reality

Bonus: Replaceable

During the sludge incident it's not Bakugo whom Midorya pulls out

A New Course Of Action:

Following the disaster (Pointless Kamakaze raid), Dabi's expose video and Twice's death at Jaku, The civilians of Tokyo decide to take matters into their own hands, it all starts with one after all.

And lastly a character profile of a background character turned OC

If you need reference, this is the girl seated next to Midoriya at Aldera, her quirk is pretty rad with the possibility of being better than Hellflame (because she seems to have fine control over the flame itself, becoming it). Of course she needs professional training first

I imagined them (her and Mido) here as friends who met halfway through middle school and have stuck together since.

Much like her quirk and namesake, Ryukka has a fiery disposition and doesn't take kindly to people* harassing her friend(s) (*read Bakugo)

She's one the only people at Aldera willing to stand up to him (her flames cause his quirk to overload)

As hinted at in her quote, she does get into UA and thanks to her and Midorya's study sessions (Quirk and academic wise) she gets in with high scores (beating out Bakugo's score in the Entrance Exam)

Has beef with Aizawa

===============================

As I stated, everything in here is up for grabs so feel free to use it in your works if you so wish.

Just remember to link it here in the comments

-Thr0wnawayy

[kitsune024]

MHA|Bakugou Katsuki ||Fics I Love|| Pt 9

A Study In Deceit by @mentallyunawareofpapaya | Chapters: 15/? |

Flip Off by @bern-the-bridge I Chapters 1/1 I

Slope by sunfleurmoon | Chapters: 35/40 |

@ladygreenfrisbee

All That Is Left | Part 1 - 2 | The Ticking Time Bomb | Chapters: 15/25 | Standing at Ground Zero I Chapters: 16/45 | Elixir I Chapters: 13/40 I

@anonymoustwit

A Little Demonstration I Chapters 3/3 I Stray Bullet I Chapters 4/4 I

MHA x MCU

blackugou widow by @wonhaebunny I Chapters: 11/? I

[stitched-mouth]

My Hero Academia Students Masterlist

Notes: Anyone you see missing here are characters I do not write for, or might be on another MHA masterlist. They are all here. I don’t write smut or anything nsfw for underage characters and I don’t ‘age them up’ just to sexualise them. So only nsfw for Tamaki and Oboro.

Codes

🦋 = Headcannons

💄 = Fem Reader

☘️ = GN Reader

🌷 = Fic

🖤 = Angst

🏳️‍🌈 = Gay

✨= Fluff

🌚 = NSFW

Izuku Midoriya /Deku

To Be Continued…

Katsuki Bakugo / Ground Zero

To Be Continued…

Eijirou Kirishima / Red Riot

To Be Continued…

Hanta Sero / Cellophane

To Be Continued…

Tsu Asui / Froppy

To Be Continued…

Mina Ashido / Pinky

To Be Continued…

Ochako Uraraka

To Be Continued…

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

To Be Continued…

Hitoshi Shinso

Hitoshi Shinso’s Firsts 🦋💄✨

Tamaki Amajiki / Suneater

To Be Continued…

Oboro Shirakumo / Loud Cloud

To Be Continued…

[dianagpeppermintnightmare]

Your sailor moon fic is one of the best fics I've ever read and I'm super glad I found it.

I didn't come here to pressure you to finish it or anything of that nature, ik life happens and also sometimes you just burn out, but I just wanted to let you know it's freaking amazing.

Thank you for writing it.

First off, oh my god I am VERY surprised you'd message me, I am a BIG fan of your art!

Second off...eh, I just kinda began to feel a rut with it. I remember me and my co-writer were part of the way through one chapter and I just felt this block because it was coming out so DARK that I felt numbed by it. I just had zero fun with making it anymore. I also felt like I wasn’t having a clear idea of where to go and I wasn't doing a good job writing some of the characters, plus kind of repeating plot points that *already* happened in canon (Mamoru being gone and Usagi being depressed is already done in Stars). It just began to feel like misery for the sake of it. Plus I just didn't like my writing a lot, some of it was too amateurish...but then, I'm very critical of my writing.

I've actually been writing a different fic and have ideas for a few others, cuz honestly I have a LOT of Sailor Moon ideas I wanna get out. Sometimes when I see your art, I feel inspired! But between my current MHA fic and general life stuff, it's gonna be a while before it gets off the ground. What I can say is it'd be kind of a retelling of Makoto's debut episode but from her POV, and with a trans angle to it.

[supermarine-silvally]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag @chameliyun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

Eight I think! Mostly longform which is why the number is so low lol

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

503,612

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently I'll write for Death Note, My Hero Academia, Hunter x Hunter, Demon Slayer, One Piece, Soul Eater, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, and Doctor Who. I have VLD fic up on my ao3 but I don't write for that fandom anymore lol

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Starbound (VLD, 294), Ground Zero (MHA, 223), Far Longer Than Forever (VLD, 76), Tales From Wammy's House (DN, 62), and The Ghosts Within Us (HxH, 57)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I'm usually super late to respond lol but yeah I try to get to all of them! I love interacting with people and I treasure all the feedback I get!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

All my ao3 fics (excluding Tales From Wammy's House, which is a collection of short stories I wrote as part of a fandom event) are unfinished, but I know which one is gonna have the angstiest ending... no spoilers though!

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, they're all basically unfinished so no spoilers!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven't so far so hopefully I never will lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I am physically incapable of writing smut. I know some ace people write it no problem, but... I am not one of those people lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I'm open to crossovers but I can't recall any that I've actually written. Usually I prefer to do them in the same sort of genre (for instance, a MHA/Marvel crossover or Pirates of the Caribbean/One Piece kind of thing where there's a sort of plausibility in setting)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I don't know about it. Not sure why anyone would bother though lol

12. What's the longest you've spent working on one fic? And the shortest?

Longest: I've been working on A Shot in the Dark since 2020 though I don't update it much anymore. But I don't want to abandon it at this time so I'll count it as ongoing.

Shortest: Tales From Wammy's House since it was for a week-long challenge lol

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Second Chances is co-written with the amazing @til-the-static-comes :)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I'm a big canon/OC shipper so I'm really attached to my canon/OC (and OC / OC) pairings moreso than most canon/canon, buuuut my favourite all-time canon/canon ship is still the Doctor/Rose Tyler; you can pry them from my cold dead hands. Killugon (Gon Freecss/Killua Zoldyck from HxH) is a close second.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

A Shot in the Dark is already so bloody long and I'm still a ways away from finishing it, but I'm gonna try, I promise.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I think. And I'm pretty good at character-centric stories.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not great at poetic, descriptive writing since I'm usually more interested in what characters are thinking/feeling rather than their external traits/environment. That might be more of a style thing though. I do have a bad habit of making characters monologue for a little too long sometimes, and relying too much on internal monologues too.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Oooh okay so I actually have so many thoughts about this!! I think it's a really effective tool if done properly-- I frequently use languages other than English in my writing since a lot of my characters tend to be bilingual. For me, it's really important to use it in the right moments that make sense within the narrative, and keep a logical kind of consistency to that rule. In my own writing -- I'll use my MHA fic Ground Zero as an example since I do it a lot there -- I like utilizing other languages in moments that reveal something about the character (Kova's foreignness/identity as a biracial/cultural Japanese-Ukrainian teenager is a major theme of her character and of the story) or when it creates moments in which a character's dialogue is supposed to be impenetrable to other characters in that scene AND THEREFORE to the reader as well-- but I DON'T use it (even though the character would technically be speaking another language in that scene) when I WANT the reader to understand what's being said. In Ground Zero, when Kova is having a phone conversation with her Ukrainian father, she's obviously speaking Ukrainian to him, but I don't write the conversation in Ukrainian because I want the audience to understand the dialogue-- and because that would be really, really annoying for a reader to have to wade their way through, assuming most of my readers are not fluent in Ukrainian (and neither am I, for the record-- I know a bit, but not enough that I don't have to check with external resources created by native speakers). But in contrast, when Kova is with her Japanese friends, if I drop a Ukrainian word/phrase into the conversation, the reader is getting the experience of the friends, and both the characters and the reader are meant to share in that confusion until Kova translates it. (Example: Bakugou is not meant to know that Kova has been calling him a dickhead (khuylo), but the WAY she says it is meant to convey that she's being derogatory so he's somewhat aware he's being insulted without me having to put a translator's note right after). I do translate and put the Latin lettering (as opposed to the Cyrillic) in the notes section at the bottom of each chapter, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ever? Pokemon. On ao3, VLD.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I'm so close to finishing Ground Zero and it has such a special place in my heart so I'll pick that one :)

no pressure tagging: @shrinkthisviolet, @deathbecomesnerds, @chickensarentcheap, @antivanruffles, @til-the-static-comes, and anyone else who sees this and wants to!

[felawnie]

PLEASE, I just looked up Cloud/Sephiroth on AO3, sorted by bookmarks and completed and ELEVEN FICS ON THE FIRST PAGE ALONE ARE TIME TRAVEL FICS. That is over HALF the fics on the page! WHAT HAPPENED. XDDDD This is reminding me of how many of the top kudos'd MHA fics have ghosts, I assume because the very top fic there is about ghosts(and it really IS fucking good, very fun) and I just really want to know what fic was ground zero for this time travel swarm. I was trying to count them and kept losing track because I was LAUGHING SO HARD.

You poor bastards, I am so sorry for what FF7 put you guys through. (i'm still laughing tho)

[winxanity-ii]

PRETTY

ship: bakugo x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 3.6k a/n: ignore me y'all, i'm going through my old prompts i made when i was 12, so if it's all fluffy mushy, and dont make sense, thats why lolollo.

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You stood at the podium, the final words of your valedictorian speech echoing across the vast gymnasium, the packed audience before you nothing but a blur of faces.

The pride that had always been present in your voice remained steady, carrying each syllable with practiced precision. Yet, under the surface, exhaustion weighed you down.

Your shoulders felt tense beneath your graduation gown, and even though you wore a smile, your teeth were clenched.

You had done it—the valedictorian of your class, head coordinator of the school's event committee. The one who never seemed to stumble, who never had a moment of weakness. A shining example of high school success, a product of late nights and a will that refused to bend.

But behind that façade, you were falling apart.

"...and to my classmates, I wish you all success and fulfillment. Congratulations, Class of 2024!" you concluded, and your smile remained plastered, your hands feeling clammy as polite applause rang out.

You stepped back from the microphone as the principal approached with a nod and an encouraging clap on your shoulder. They gestured for you to move offstage. The bright lights overhead faded into the background, and the heavy red curtain drew a wall between you and everyone else.

Out of the spotlight, you allowed the mask to slip—just for a second.

No one was paying attention to you anymore. They were too caught up in celebrating the moment, applauding themselves, their friends, the ceremonial pomp of it all. Not like you had anyone out there who'd be focusing on you, anyway.

Since freshman year, you'd earned the reputation of being the "smart, cold loner kid." It wasn't completely unearned—you always stayed on top of your work, prioritizing your academics above all else.

You never pressured anyone to be like you, but you also didn't go out of your way to make connections. You had a small group of friends, but you never talked to many people outside of that circle.

When you eventually fell out with those few friends—mainly because they felt academically inferior to you—it wasn't hard for the label to stick. You didn't feel like disrupting it; you didn't want to force anything. And so, the persona of the "cold loner" settled in, unchallenged.

Your hands were trembling. It started as a small twitch, but now your fingers wouldn't keep still, and they gave way to shaking, unsteady motions.

You couldn't help the wry thought that flashed through your mind. Mom's spaghetti, huh?

You sucked in a shaky breath. Not now.

You turned your body slightly, pressing yourself back against the wall behind the curtain, trying to ground yourself away from prying eyes. Your breaths were coming in too quickly, your heart hammering away inside your chest, erratic and heavy.

You needed to get a handle on this—no one could see you like this, especially not now.

This wasn't part of the plan.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply through your nose.

Another deep breath, then another.

You tried to hum under your breath, an upbeat tune you made up on the spot, to drown out the awful thudding of your heart. The rhythm of the song helped—a shaky melody to fill your senses. It wasn't much, but it was something.

When was the last time I told you how (pretty you, pretty you are)

You dug your nails into your palms, pressing down in time with the humming. The small sting of pain cut through the fog in your head, enough to make you focus.

But even with your eyes squeezed shut, you failed to notice the one pair of eyes that had stayed on you—sharp, unwavering, concerned.

Minutes passed—they felt like hours—but eventually, you managed to slow your breathing.

You opened your eyes and forced that polite, practiced smile back on. You could feel the remnants of exhaustion clinging to you, but at least you weren't shaking anymore.

Good enough. You had to keep moving.

You stepped out from behind the curtain, letting the crowd's noise wash over you again, though it felt muffled, distant.

Everything around you seemed unreal—the flashes of cameras, the muffled cheers, the proud tears in parents' eyes. You moved on autopilot, your body mechanical as you walked, your head nodding politely at people congratulating you, though their words barely registered.

For now, you just kept walking, your diploma in your hands, face blank. You had done it. You were supposed to feel proud, fulfilled, happy even.

But all you felt was emptiness.

The line for the diplomas was divided by last names: A-J, K-R, S-Z. You found yourself at the front since you were on stage earlier, the first in line for your group.

You knew how chaotic things were about to get—students pushing, parents crowding in to snap pictures, the general mess of it all—so you tried to take control of at least the line you were in.

You turned around, your voice firm but not unkind as you called for everyone to stay in line. "Hey, everyone, let's try to keep it organized. It'll be faster if we all stay in line and don't bunch up," you reasoned, projecting your voice over the growing crowd. Some students looked annoyed, but a few nodded, understanding the logic.

"Yeah, makes sense," someone muttered, and the line began to straighten out. To your surprise, they listened, at least for a while.

For a few moments, there was some semblance of order, and you felt a tiny bit of relief. "Thanks, guys," you said, offering a polite nod, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction.

Then she bumped into you. Hard.

You turned, your gaze locking onto the girl who had once been your friend—Emily. Her eyes glinted with something that wasn't quite hate, but it was close. She sneered, her lips curling upward in a way that made your stomach churn.

"Still trying to be everyone's hero, huh?" she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

You clenched your jaw, exhaustion and stress bubbling up, the noise of students and parents swirling around you, the pressure pressing in on all sides. You tried to swallow it down, tried to let it go, but the overstimulation—the chaos, her voice, the day—was too much.

You didn't respond right away, your teeth grinding as you tried to stay calm. But the sneer on her face, the way she looked at you like you were nothing, like all your effort meant nothing—it pushed you over the edge.

"Maybe if you actually put in the effort, you wouldn't need someone else to keep you in line," you finally snapped, your voice low but laced with venom, your eyes narrowing. Her eyes widened, her sneer faltering for just a second, and you pressed on, unable to stop yourself. "But I guess it's easier to stand around and complain, right? Must be nice not having to try."

For a second, it looked like she might say something—her mouth opened, her cheeks flushed red. The tension between you hung heavy, the noise around you fading into the background.

You almost felt bad, almost wanted to take it back, but then she scoffed, and the glare returned. You turned away before she could say anything else, before the temptation to argue further could take hold.

You heard her scoff again, felt her glare on your back, but you didn't care. You had bigger things to deal with than her petty jabs.

You stormed away, your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you left the chaos behind. Your hands were trembling again, your heart pounding, but you kept your head high, refusing to let anyone else see just how close you were to breaking.

The stage was empty now, everyone else having moved out towards the parking lot for pictures and gifts.

You found yourself gravitating towards it, the familiarity of the space comforting in a way you couldn't quite explain. The lights were dim, the curtains drawn back, and for the first time since the ceremony began, you were truly alone.

Your composure shattered.

Tears welled up, spilling over as you pressed your hands to your face, your shoulders shaking.

You tried humming that tune again, the one that had calmed you earlier, but it felt hollow now, the melody lost in the storm of emotions crashing over you.

Your hands itched for your headphones—you had almost grabbed them earlier during your panic attack, but you hadn't wanted to draw attention.

Now, you wished you had them—something to drown out the noise in your head. Instead, you cupped your hands over your ears, trying to muffle the world around you.

It wasn't working.

You hummed louder, your voice breaking as you rocked back and forth. The tears wouldn't stop, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. "I'm okay," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." The words were supposed to make you feel stronger, supposed to convince yourself that you could get through this. But right now, they felt empty, a fragile shield against the overwhelming weight of it all.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a scent—familiar, comforting.

You froze, your humming faltering as the smell surrounded you, warm and grounding.

Slowly, cautiously, a pair of hands covered yours, warm palms pressing gently against your skin. The touch was light, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted, but you didn't.

You took a shaky breath, the scent filling your senses, and you muttered his name. "Bakugo?"

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears, and there he was; Bakugo Katsuki, standing in front of you, his lips quirking up into a small smirk.

It wasn't his usual cocky grin—there was something softer there, something almost gentle. His eyes, though still intense, held none of their usual edge.

For a moment, you just stared, your heart stuttering in your chest. Your crush—the one person you thought would never even notice you—was here, smiling at you, and for a second, it felt like the world had stopped.

He looked so good, the light catching in his golden hair, his eyes locked on yours, and you couldn't help the way your thoughts spun out of control. He's here. He's really here. He smells so good and—

Your brows furrowed as you realized he was speaking, his lips moving, but the words weren't registering. You blinked, your gaze dropping to his lips, trying to catch up. "Is he...?" you mumbled, still dazed.

Slowly, you dropped your hands, his following, allowing his voice to finally break through, the words matching the melody you had been humming.

"—when I first met you, I told you how pretty you... pretty you are."

The words were soft, almost a whisper, and you caught the tail end of the lyrics, your mind struggling to catch up.

For a moment, you were confused, the words echoing in your head until realization struck—you knew those lyrics.

You blinked up at Bakugo, his lips still moving to the quiet melody of your song.

The rough edges of his voice surprised you. It wasn't perfect—not in the way singers on the radio sounded—but it was real. Raw. The same notes you had hummed to yourself for years, whenever the pressure became too much to bear.

How long had he been listening? The thought made your breath catch in your throat. You were so used to thinking no one noticed you. That you were just... there. Even when you tried to stand out, it felt like people saw the success, not the person behind it.

But Bakugo—he saw you.

He must've heard you humming during those endless study sessions, maybe even in the hallways between classes. All those times you thought you were alone in your anxiety, he had been there, taking in every detail.

And now, he was standing in front of you, singing the one thing that had always grounded you.

The realization hit like a wave, crashing over the walls you'd built around yourself for so long.

He noticed. He had always noticed.

Even when you thought you were invisible to him—to everyone—he had been watching, quietly, in the background.

Your breath caught, your eyes widening as you looked at him; you really looked at him. He wasn't mocking you; he wasn't teasing. He was grounding you, just like you had tried to ground yourself.

You could hardly believe it. All this time, you thought you were the one who kept your distance, but maybe... maybe you weren't the only one afraid of being vulnerable.

Your thoughts drifted, pulling you back to the first time you had met him. It had been during your freshmen year when you transferred into the school.

Everyone else had known each other since their younger years, so they all knew Katsuki, but to you, he had been just another face in a sea of unfamiliar people.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

It was a free day since the teacher was sick and the substitute was late, and most of the class was empty—only a few students, including Katsuki and his friends, were there, goofing off to pass the time.

You had been sitting at your desk, nose buried in a book with your headphones on, the music drowning out the noise around you. You didn't pay much attention to their conversation until the room erupted in laughter and teasing.

One of Katsuki's friends had asked him who he thought was the prettiest girl in their year. At first, he had refused to answer, calling it a stupid and shallow question.

"Come on, Bakugo! You gotta have someone in mind!" one of them had insisted, nudging him with a smirk.

"Yeah, Katsuki! Quit being such a hardass and just tell us," another had added, the teasing relentless.

Katsuki's jaw clenched, clearly annoyed, but after a moment, he let out an irritated sigh. "If you must know..." he grumbled, his eyes doing a lazy sweep of the room before settling on you for just a second.

You hadn't noticed, too caught up in your reading, but the sudden whooping and hollering from the boys had made you look up, startled and confused.

"He said you're pretty!" one of them had called out, his voice loud and teasing, drawing even more attention to you.

Your gaze had dropped to the floor, your face heating up in embarrassment. You could feel all their eyes on you; the attention almost unbearable. "Ah... thank you," you had murmured, your voice barely audible as you gave a shy smile, peeking up through your lashes.

It was the first smile they had seen from you, and it had stunned the entire group into silence; their breaths caught at the sight of it. Even Katsuki had been caught off guard, his eyes widening before a faint pink flush dusted his cheeks.

"Whoa, did she just smile?" one of them had whispered, his voice full of awe. "Dude, I think I just died a little bit."

Katsuki had quickly looked away, scowling to hide his embarrassment. "Not a big deal," he had muttered, his tone gruff, his eyes narrowing as his friends continued to cackle. "Not like I said I was in love with her, you idiots."

"But you think she's pretty, huh?" another one of his friends had teased, nudging him with an elbow.

"Shut up!" Katsuki had snapped, his face flushing even darker. His irritation only made his friends laugh harder, their voices echoing through the nearly empty classroom.

You had been unsure how to react, your fingers trembling slightly as you clutched your book tighter. You hadn't expected the attention, hadn't expected to be singled out by someone like Bakugo Katsuki.

First the teacher was late, then the substitute, and now this—a guy who was not only easy on the eyes but apparently an athlete, someone people looked up to, found you attractive? It was overwhelming, and heat flooded your face as you ducked your head, staring at the floor.

You didn't want to leave his compliment unacknowledged. Mustering whatever courage you had, you spoke up, your voice still quiet. "Thank you," you repeated, a little firmer this time, your eyes flicking up to meet his for just a second before darting away again.

Katsuki had grumbled something under his breath, his friends still teasing him, but that moment had stuck with you.

The first real connection you had made, even if it was small, even if it wasn't much. It had been enough to replay in your mind, over and over again, a memory that lingered with a warmth that surprised you.

Now, standing in front of him, his hands covering yours, that memory felt like a lifetime ago.

The warmth of his palms grounded you, his presence breaking through the haze in your mind. He watched you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for something—permission, maybe, or reassurance.

You weren't sure.

He took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering. "Look... I'm not expecting anything from you," he said, his voice gruff, almost defensive. "I just... I needed you to know. I don't want you thinking no one cares. Because I do."

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words hitting you harder than you expected.

He wasn't asking for anything, wasn't putting pressure on you. He just wanted you to know.

It was simple, and yet it meant everything in that moment.

His hands dropped from yours, and he looked to the side, his usual scowl softening as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Your breath caught, your eyes widening in surprise as he pulled away, his face flushed, a deep red spreading across his cheeks. He let out a small, irritated huff, as if annoyed by his own vulnerability, but he didn't pull back completely.

Instead, his thumb brushed softly over the apple of your cheek, his gaze momentarily shifting away before snapping back to meet yours. He straightened up, his hands falling to his sides, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, with a reluctant sigh, he gave you one last look—a mix of frustration, hope, and something softer—before turning on his heel and walking away, his steps slow, almost hesitant.

You watched him go, your heart feeling lighter, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn't felt in a long time.

For the first time, the emptiness that had weighed you down all day seemed to lift, replaced by something new.

Something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren't as alone as you had thought.

A/N:  AHH, i need a bakugo in my life 😔💔

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~

From the sea of graduating seniors, Bakugo stood at the back of the room, eyes narrowed as he watched you retreat behind the curtains.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen you crack under pressure, but today—your graduation day, of all days—something in you seemed different. Worse.

He gritted his teeth, fighting against the urge to step forward. The logical part of his mind told him to stay back, that it wasn't his business.

You were tough. You always had been. The "cold, untouchable" reputation didn't come from nowhere, after all. But lately... he could see it. Those small moments when your shoulders slumped, or when your eyes lost focus, staring somewhere far away.

It pissed him off more than anything. Not you, but the way no one else seemed to notice the cracks.

No one else was paying attention.

He had wanted to say something so many times, but every moment he almost did, his damn pride got in the way.

What the hell would he even say? He wasn't good at this kind of thing—comforting people, talking about feelings.

But watching you now, shaking behind the stage, he clenched his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

You disappeared from the stage, moving towards the backrooms where you'd pick up your official records and diploma, and Bakugo let out a sharp exhale. He took a step forward, then stopped, clenching his jaw again.

She's gonna fall apart if nobody does something, he thought, his heart thudding in his chest. And no matter how much he hated the idea of stepping out of his comfort zone, of saying something soft and risking looking like an idiot... he hated the idea of watching you break even more. 

The mask you wore—the one you thought no one could see through—shattered right in front of him.

Bakugo had watched you hold it together for years, watched you become the best without faltering. But today, as you stood on the stage, trembling from exhaustion, he realized how close you were to breaking.

How much you had been hiding.

He couldn't just stand back and watch anymore. It wasn't like him to ignore a problem, especially one staring him dead in the face. But this—being there for you, really being there—that was new territory. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say or do, but seeing you about to crumble was enough to push him forward.

For once, it wasn't about pride.

It wasn't about looking tough or saving face.

It was about you—just you—and that was enough.

[sadbigemini]

Hi, hi, hi! I am back on my MHA bullshit. This time though is just a few ideas to help write MHA fics. Some of them are probably stupid but oh, well. Let's get into it!

EDIT: one thing I really hate in fics is when people write that Mido cleans up the Trash Beach and does not have him wear protective gear (i.e thick gloves, protective eyewear, pants, a respirator mask, and idk if there needs to be more). Also not talking about him pacing himself or the repercussions of not doing so or the repercussions of not wearing protective gear!!

HERO NAME CHANGES (vigilante or villain name ideas)

Jirou: Aux, Soundwave, Soundtrack, Resonate, Resonance, Vibe, Operator

Kami : Amp (Chargebolt is good but I like this one) Amp Imp/Imp Amp, Lightning Rod

Mido: Solace, Dreamer, Mastermind, Nameless, Analyst, Renegade

Ojiro: Black Belt, Warrior, Guardian, Defender

Satou: Titan, Warrior, Sucrose

Baku: Nitro, Ground Zero, Dynamight, King Explosion, Paragon

Shin: Siren, Psyren, Psyche, Hypnos, Hypno, Mindjack, Hex, Mockingbird, Brainwave, Mastermind, Copycat, Simon, The Simon Says Hero: ?, Renegade

Haga: Prism, Spectrum, Specter, Spectra

Mina: Alien Queen, Queen Alien, Acidroid (kinda sounds like two drugs lol), Astro Acid

Shouto: Frost Flame, Frost Fire, Spectrum, Temperer, Duality, Entropy, Dichotomy, Polarity,

Aoyama: Shining Knight, Shooting Star, Supernova, Starlight, Glitter Glam, Shimmer, Glimmer, Comet, Cosmic, Luminary, Chevalier

DNA SUITS/SUIT CHANGES!!!!

I feel like everyone should have full coverage (they need protection not just to look cool) unless they have five point or touch activation quirks that might not work with DNA suits

Hagakure (DNA suit, full coverage)

Yaomomo (DNA suit, full coverage)

Kirishima (DNA suit? Torso and arms covered)

Tetsutetsu (DNA suit? Torso and arms covered)

Bakugou (DNA suit so his suit doesn't burn, shoulders covered)

Ashido (DNA suit, arms covered)

Sero (arms covered just keep his elbows mostly uncovered)

Midnight (DNA suit, full coverage just make it slutty ig lmao)

Kouda (limbs covered)

Tokoyami (arms covered)

Kamakiri (DNA suit, arms covered)

Kaminari (DNA suit so his suit doesn't burn)

Power Loader himself (torso and arms covered. like come on man your vitals are easy targets)

Mirko (limbs covered)

Lmk if I missed any

Cool Ideas For Quirks (you might have to look them up for more info)

I get these ideas from superpower wiki lmao

Blood Portal Manipulation- the user can utilize puddles of blood or people as portals.

Summoning- The user can summon anything they have knowledge of. Whether it be alive or inanimate they have to have prior knowledge of it.

Morale Manipulation- The user can manipulate the morale, bolster the willpower, grand strength, stamina and battle prowess of their allies, inspire them to fight.

Empathic Communication- The power to communicate with one's emotions.

Miming- The user of this ability can interact and change reality via miming. (OR) The power to create effects based on the event or action acted out by the user.

Super Speed- a given, I haven't seen any fics with it surprisingly.

Electrically Enhanced Speed- The power to move faster using electricity (Kaminari??).

Door Manipulation- The user can create, shape and manipulate doors and gates on any level (physical, metaphysical etc), type and shape, combining them as needed, or moving them with telekinesis.

I have more but I'm too tired to continue lmao

Here are some helpful pictures tho (EDIT: I just realized #7 isn't on the map photo, where Kuroiro lives. It's Fukushima)

[pluviophile-imagines]

Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice

in which you don’t know much about ground zero, except that he’s a selfish asshole who keeps stealing your coveted pumpkin spice muffin in the morning and eating it. right in front of you. with that stupid smirk on his face

bakugo katsuki x reader

word count: 4.9k genre: fluff, pro hero au, slow burn type: one-shot reader: neutral (no pronouns, neutral terms, neutral clothing) warnings: none

part of the sweater weather collab || prompt #8 from this list

“the fuck was that?” he asks, incredulous but clearly amused. you like the expression he’s giving you right now far better than the arrogant smirks and shit-eating grins that you’re so very used to; he’s fighting back a genuine smile like he’s enjoying your dumb antics.

“i don’t know,” you whine in response. “i panicked.”

“why? jeez, and i was looking forward to seeing you today, too.”

“yeah, that’s why i panicked! how do you think most people would react if they saw some pro hero looking for them?”

ground zero blinks. a little frown forms on his lips, almost a pout. it’s kind of adorable. clearly, he hadn’t thought about that. “kinda figured i wasn’t just some pro hero to you by now.”

The first time it happens, you don’t think much. You get in line at your favorite cafe and note that there’s only one pumpkin spice muffin left (the best pumpkin spice muffins you’ve ever had, the very reason you found this cafe in the first place, and something you look forward to for the scant time they’re offered every year). By the time you get to the front, it’s gone. And you’re disappointed, of course—it’s the first day they’re available and you’ve missed out—but there’s always tomorrow. You’ll just have to be quicker. You don’t even notice the blond hero who’d been two spots in front of you in the line.

The second time it happens, you do notice him, mostly because the barista does. She greets the man by what you’re fairly certain is a hero name—Ground Zero—and doesn’t wait for him to order before starting a medium black coffee for him.

“Wow. She sure likes you,” you remark dryly from behind him. “I was a regular before they even hired her and she only just started spelling my name right.”

“Hero privileges,” he grumbles in response, low and annoyed like talking to you is a chore.

You roll your eyes from behind him. “But common courtesy, apparently, isn’t a privilege the mighty hero Ground Zero will grant me.”

Your words make his lips quirk up just slightly, a tiny smirk that makes you roll your eyes again as you huff and cross your arms. He doesn’t speak, which you’re glad for considering how insufferable the look on his face is, but it’s because the barista has returned with his drink. It’s then that he gruffly orders none other than the last pumpkin spice muffin, and when you make a disappointed noise as he takes his newly bagged pastry the beastly man laughs—just slightly, little more than a huff of air through his nose, but undoubtedly finding your indignation amusing.

The third time it happens he does it on purpose. He doesn’t even hide it; he glances back at you, eyes the pumpkin muffin, and then raises an eyebrow to give you a look you can’t quite decipher. You think, briefly, that maybe he’s offering to let you have it, but instead, when he gets to the front of the line, he simply buys it himself. You’re stuck glaring at the back of his head as the barista gives him his prize, and when he passes you on his way out you hiss, “Very mature.”

He doesn’t respond, or even really look at you; he just gives that little smirk and walks out.

So you decide to arrive five minutes earlier the next day. And you do; except that so does he, coming the opposite direction, the door to the cafe right in between you.

A door which he sprints for when he sees you. You might have considered racing him except that he’s an entire pro hero and apparently absurdly competitive, so he gets there in record time… and then waits for you, smugly, so that he can hold the door open for you to walk in after him. He orders the muffin, gives you that dumb smirk, and leaves no pumpkin spice goodness for you. If you were a different person, you might consider finding another cafe to get your seasonal fix, but to be honest you’re probably as competitive as he is. You’re not about to just let him win like that. Besides, you haven’t found any places nearby with comparable quality.

He beats you again when you come five minutes earlier the following day. You’re beyond pissed now. It’s Friday; you should be looking forward to the weekend, but instead you’ve spent every morning since Monday missing your favorite treat. It’s hell on earth, and the devil is a blond pro hero who takes pleasure in your misery.

You pout as you take your spot behind Ground Zero. He snickers, addressing you for the first time since your initial meeting.

“Someone’s grouchy.”

“Gee, wonder why,” you drawl, sarcasm dripping like venom from your words.

“Gotta be quicker next time,” is all he says, and though he hasn’t bothered to look back you can hear the obnoxious smirk on his face.

You don’t dignify that with a response, and you try not to stomp your foot like a child as you watch him leave. He doesn’t even have the decency to wait this time; he looks directly at you and takes a huge, crude bite, winking with his mouth full and pushing backward out the door.

When Monday rolls around, you’re even earlier. But he’s caught on. You push back by five-minute increments on Tuesday, then Wednesday, then Thursday, and he beats you every time, always going out of his way to taunt you or even just eat the muffin right there while you’re in line. As each day passes, you grow angrier and angrier. You’re pretty sure this is going to be your villain origin story.

You’ve shifted your whole morning routine by an hour by Friday; it’s a struggle to wake up, you nearly miss your alarm and you speed through your morning routine, but it’s worth it because there’s a glimmer of hope as you reach the cafe.

Don’t get it twisted. Ground Zero is still there, annoyingly smug expression and all—the hope comes when you get a look at the display case because there are two muffins standing proud behind the glass. You’ve arrived early enough that they haven’t all been bought, so you’re not as dejected as normal when you take your place behind him in line.

He’s wearing what is clearly workout attire; grey sweatpants and a loose tank that makes you want to scream (not because his arms look good, certainly not, just because he’s annoying) with a pair of wired headphones draped over his shoulders. It’s unusual; normally, he’s in what you’d probably call business casual, presumably commuting to his agency where he changes into his hero uniform.

“You’re early,” he comments. He’s turned backwards in the line so that he can face you.

“So are you.”

“I’m always up at this time. I just saw you at the end of my morning run and decided to beat you again.”

You wrinkle your nose, giving him a glare that could kill. “You’re a real piece of work, Ground Zero.”

He doesn’t even try to stifle his laughter, much to your increasing annoyance. “You sound worse than some of the villains I fight.”

“Maybe I’ll become one, then. I’m angry enough.” You huff. “But not today! Because there’s two, so you can’t ruin my morning.”

You regret saying it immediately because the words make him quirk his eyebrow in a manner that isn’t reassuring. He doesn’t say anything else; he just turns around to face the cashier and greets her like he has every day since your unfortunate meeting.

You figure out what he’s going to do mere seconds before he does it. You watch him gesture at the display, and you’re gasping as he holds up two fingers and orders both muffins.

“You asshole,” you say, less of an accusation and more of a statement of fact. “I fucking hate you.”

The asshole turns to face you, leaning back against the counter with that shit-eating grin on his face and his arms crossed (don’t ogle his fucking arms, you’re better than that, and he’ll definitely notice). “Maybe I wanna see you snap. I think you’d make a great villain.”

“I fucking hate you,” you repeat, having very few other words available in your mind to string into a sentence. “Go rot in hell.”

The barista returns with his drink and two brown paper bags, holding them out for Ground Zero to take the cup and one bag with his right hand and the other with his left. He turns back to you, holding out the single muffin, but you don’t take the bait.

“I bought this for you, you know, but I don’t really wanna do someone who hates me any favors.”

“Spare me, I know you’re lying.”

He makes a tsk sound, shaking his head. “It’s okay, Red Riot’ll appreciate my gift more than you would have anyway.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

The bark of laughter that he lets out as he leaves definitely doesn’t make your face heat up.

You keep trying the next week, but it’s futile. Ground Zero is just too dedicated to ruining your day. Still, you can’t deny the small part of you that feels warm every time you see him.

Halfway through the week, there’s an incident that reminds you quite suddenly that your annoying cafe companion is a famous pro hero.

It starts like normal. He greets you with his usual smirk. “Morning. You look like shit.”

To be fair, he’s right. You’d worked late last night and are set to work another late night today, so you really only have the energy to flip him off. You’d say that only a pumpkin muffin would cheer you up… but to be honest, only a pumpkin muffin combined with beating your new nemesis would do the job.

Said nemesis goes keep talking (probably to taunt you about being lazy or slow or something) but you don’t get the chance to hear it. Instead, you get shoved back when a trio of squealing teenage girls rushes over from their table across the cafe and crowds around him.

“Ground Zero!” their apparent leader exclaims, “Ground Zero! We wanted to thank you for saving us yesterday! That villain was so scary but you were so brave!”

The other two give a chorus of agreement, shrill and high-pitched, and it’s painfully obvious that Ground Zero doesn’t want them in his face any more than you do. Serves him right. He’s looking over their heads at you as if you can save him; there’s a quip on your tongue about how he should be doing the rescuing, dashing pro hero that he is, but you decide against saying it while they’re around.

He does rescue you, ultimately, though it takes far too long in your opinion. After a minute too many of the teens shamelessly flirting with a grown man and him uncomfortably trying to get them to leave, one of them stumbles into you, shoving you back violently against one of the rods that hold up the line divider. It’s accidental, but it hurts, and the girl doesn’t even bother to apologize as you hiss out in pain.

“Oi!” Ground Zero snaps, none too happy and dropping what little civility he’d been offering. “That’s enough, fuck off! Don’t you brats have parents? Who the hell taught you manners?”

The chittering pauses for a moment, then the trio bursts into giggles.

He growls and you raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t notice. “There are other patrons here, don’t be fucking rude. If you ain’t gonna apologize then fuck off. If you are, then say you’re sorry and then fuck off. There’s a time and place to talk to pros, don’t just ambush them in a fucking cafe.”

Finally, they seem to get that he’s really pissed. All three give you an apology, and they’re better than you’d expect, seemingly fairly genuine, before they leave.

Ground Zero doesn’t ask you if you’re okay, not verbally at least. He takes his spot in front of you and asks with his eyes, barely turning his head and quirking an eyebrow.

“I‘m fine,” you assure him. Your ribs aren’t hurting much anymore, so that’s certainly the case. And now you have fodder to taunt him with. “Thank you for the save, though. You’re so brave, Ground Zero, rushing to my aid like that. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

He groans. “Christ. Please, you’re not a damn high schooler, I get more than enough of that shit.”

“Really? You don’t want me as your number one fan, fawning over you? That’s good. Stealing my pumpkin muffin every day isn’t a very good way to win me over.”

“I’m not stealing shit. I’m paying for it. Not my fault you’re not fast enough.”

“You’re so immature.”

“It doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Yes it does, right on the bottom. You just swallow it whole and don’t look.”

“Then it’s basically not there.”

You give up on being earlier than him that Friday.

The following Monday, you relish the extra hour of sleep you get. The sun fully rises by the time you’re out of bed and, despite a little voice in your mind telling you it’s unlikely that you’ll get your muffin today, you’re chipper, not necessarily hopeful but not quite as pessimistic as the previous week.

There’s another little voice, significantly quieter, that wants Ground Zero to be there. Only because he’s interesting, not because you like his company or enjoy losing your muffin every damn day.

He doesn’t disappoint when you arrive. It’s strange, though; you remember that previously he’d wear his work clothes (not his hero uniform, but clearly for working). but now he’s in his running gear like the week before, the grey sweats and the tank and the headphones around his neck. He’s seated at a two-person table, too, hunched over with his forearms on the table as he scrolls through his phone.

His head snaps up when you walk through the door, and he doesn’t wait to leap up and scramble to the line, making you throw your arms up in exasperation as he takes his spot right in front of you.

“Are you a child?” you ask.

“You’re late,” is all he says in response.

“Late? Look buddy, we weren’t meeting here. I didn’t ask you to wait for me.”

“Well, thanks to your tardiness, I’ll have to go straight to work in this shit.” He gestures down at his body. “Do you know what my damn sidekicks are gonna say?”

“‘Nice sweats, boss,’” you chirp. “Or something along those lines. I imagine they’re a bunch of kiss-asses.”

“They’re not,” he growls.

“I’m not even late for my standards. I’ve been coming earlier because you’re such a dick. This is the time I’ve been coming here for years.”

“Well, maybe you should consider fixing your fucking sleep schedule.”

“Maybe you should consider antagonizing someone new for a change. I’m sure someone out there likes blueberry muffins, go bug them!”

You’ve gravitated towards each other, practically nose-to-nose (though the fucker is looking down at you, ungodly tall as he is), chests all but touching. It’s impossible to miss when his red irises drop to your lips.

Ground Zero doesn’t move. You don’t know what you’d have done if he did; you still feel like you barely know the guy, it’s only been two weeks, but it doesn’t happen so there’s no real reason to ponder it.

What does happen is the barista tentatively calls for him, forcing him to turn around and order. He still gets the pumpkin spice muffin—you’re not surprised—but he doesn’t speak to you on his way out. He doesn’t even taunt you with it.

You decide to make your new normal fifteen minutes earlier than it used to be before meeting Ground Zero. Though it doesn’t occur to you when you decide it, it’s because you intend to spend that extra time with him.

When you arrive, he’s at the table he was the day before, in his expected work clothes rather than his running gear. Again, he leaps up and beats you in line, seemingly past whatever strangeness had taken over him last time.

“Nobody saw my clothes yesterday so I’ve decided to forgive you,” he announces.

“There we go, everything worked out.”

“No thanks to you. You just got lucky.”

“And what would you have done if I hadn’t? Steal my pumpkin muffin—oh, wait.”

“I told you, dumbass.” He’s grinning, teeth sharp. “I can’t steal what you don’t already own. I just beat you every time. Get better.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of being this way?” You’re grinning, too, despite yourself. It probably takes away from your banter, but you can’t help it.

“What, the best?”

“That was dumb.”

He doesn’t get to defend himself, because he’s gotten to the front of the line. He turns to the barista instead of responding.

“Medium black coffee and that pumpkin spice muffin.” He points at the display, waiting for her to start to get the indicated pastry before raising his other hand to jab his thumb at you. “Oh, and whatever they want.”

You blink, genuinely surprised.

“For here or to go?”

“Here.” It comes out as a statement, but you can see the question in Ground Zero’s eyes, and you nod your affirmation. He nods back. “Yeah, here.”

“You’d like your regular, then?” She turns to you, and you nod once again. She goes to start ringing him up, but then you speak.

“Actually, I’d like a bacon egg and avocado breakfast sandwich, too, please.”

It’s one of the most expensive things on the menu, but Ground Zero doesn’t bat an eye as he pays. He just looks around, clearly scoping for a table. Damn pro hero’s salary. You won’t complain if he wants to pay for your coffee more.

He settles on the very table he’d taken to waiting for you at. You eat breakfast together, and you don’t really care that he’s eating your pumpkin spice muffin.

In fact, it becomes the new norm for the remaining week and a half of October. You arrive fifteen minutes before you used to and find him sitting at the same table, whereupon he leaps up to beat you in line as soon as you enter. He pays for your coffee and sandwich, and then you two spend your extra fifteen minutes sitting at that same table, talking. He even takes to walking you most of the way to your office; he has to split off to go to his agency a few blocks before you get there, but it’s still nice. You never forget that he’s still eating your fucking muffin, though—mostly because he spends breakfast taunting you, and because you don’t want to let it go.

It’s on the first of November that the realization hits, and you hesitate at the door.

Is it silly? Petty? To want to just pass by and take the bitter, over-brewed coffee at your office because you’ve definitely lost this strange competition you’ve been engaging in for weeks? You can see Ground Zero inside, waiting at the pick-up spot. You’re definitely overthinking this. You shouldn’t let it stop you from getting the coffee you so require, but you know that now that there are no more muffins it won’t be the same. Maybe he won’t even want to spend time with you anymore.

Isn’t that stupid. You’re nothing without the muffin? Without the meaningless, biteless bickering? You like being around him. You like to think the feeling’s mutual.

You watch as Ground Zero is approached by the barista and receives a pair of drinks in a cardboard carrier, watch as asks for what turns out to be a sharpie for him to write on one of the cups, watch as he returns the marker and his hand falls to pick up the little white box you’re just now noticing on the counter and glances around to—

You squeak. He locks eyes with you and his narrow immediately. You have no clue what gets into you, but the look on his face makes you turn heel and rush away from the door.

You know damn well how fast he is, you know that if he wants to catch you he has the damn capability (he’s a pro hero for fuck’s sake), but for whatever reason the sound of the door opening after you only makes you go faster.

“OI! Why the fuck are you running?” He shouts after you.

“I don’t know!”

It hits you how stupid this is, right then, and you halt so suddenly that when you whip around he very nearly runs straight into you. He reacts quickly, dropping the drinks and the package on the metal table right next to you so that his hands are free to fly up to your shoulders, both steadying you and stopping him from bowling you over.

“The fuck was that?” he asks, incredulous but clearly amused. You like the expression he’s giving you right now far better than the arrogant smirks and shit-eating grins that you’re so very used to; he’s fighting back a genuine smile like he’s enjoying your dumb antics.

“I don’t know,” you whine in response. “I panicked.”

“Why? Jeez, and I was looking forward to seeing you today, too.”

“Yeah, that’s why I panicked! How do you think most people would react if they saw some pro hero looking for them?”

Ground Zero blinks. A little frown forms on his lips, almost a pout. It’s kind of adorable. Clearly, he hadn’t thought about that. “Kinda figured I wasn’t just some pro hero to you by now.”

Now it’s your turn to blink in surprise. “Well, I wasn’t even gonna go to the cafe today. I was actually about to leave when you saw me.”

“What? Why?” He sounds panicked now. Your eyebrows knit in confusion momentarily, but his loss of composure helps soothe your nerves.

“Uh, because I spent a month with an asshole purposefully antagonizing me and stealing the pumpkin spice muffins that I look forward to every year right out from under me? Kinda makes going to get coffee a little less refreshing.”

He has the decency to wince at that. “Yeah, alright, I talked to a few of my friends last night about yo—that and they convinced me that maybe I took things a little far, especially ‘cause I realized I was into—I mean they were helping me plan to ask—”

He cuts himself off, eyes widening quickly before narrowing and darting suddenly to the side.

“Huh?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters gruffly. “Here.”

With that eloquent introduction, he grabs the little white box from the table and shoves it into your chest.

“Wh—” You take it from him, choosing not to comment on his less than polite manner of handing it to you. Whatever is inside is heavier than you’d expected, and hot enough that your chilly fingers are warmed just by holding the bottom. “This is for me?”

“Yeah. I made ‘em this morning, ‘cause I realized I’d prevented you from getting any of those muffins while they were making ‘em, so I talked the old lady into giving me the recipe and I figured you wouldn’t open it right now in front of me yanno I just thought you’d wait until I’m not right here…”

You pause halfway through opening the lid to raise your head and shoot Ground Zero an incredulous look. He’s glancing away again, eyes fixed on some spot to the left of you, face pink and cheeks puffed as his lips pout and he bites the inside of his lip.

“You don’t want to watch me open your present?” You deadpan your response.

“No, it’s yours, you can open it whenever you damn well want.”

“Fine. I wanna do it now. In front of you. Because you’re apparently very embarrassed by the contents.” You pause. “Christ, it’s not some creep shit, is it? You didn’t like, stalk me and these are hundreds of candid photos of me?”

“What? No! The fuck?”

“Just making sure. One can never be too cautious.”

“I wouldn’t fucking do that!”

You hum in response, enjoying his spluttering as you return your attention to the box to find…

Well, now. He’d practically told you before, hadn’t he? The old lady he’d been talking about must be the cafe’s owner, because the four muffins within the package look exactly like the ones he’d been stealing from you. And they’re steaming, still hot.

“Used my quirk to keep ‘em warm,” he grunts in answer to your silent question.

You look up at him, one eyebrow raised. “You can do that?”

He shows you his palms and you watch as they swiftly begin to steam in the cool air just like the muffins.

“Fun.”

“Ya think?”

You snort, rolling your eyes and leaning in to nudge him playfully with your shoulder. “Don’t be gross.”

“I didn’t say shit, that’s all your mind.”

Again, you hum your answer rather than speaking, this time reaching in to pinch off a little bite from the top of one of the muffins and place it into your mouth.

It’s better than you remember. Maybe it’s because of the agonizing wait, or maybe because of the anticipation, or perhaps it’s because a hot pro hero made them just for you and is standing right before you gauging your reaction. Either way, you moan your approval and don’t even regret it when Ground Zero’s obnoxious arrogant smirk makes its triumphant return on his face.

“Good?”

You nod enthusiastically, plucking the muffin from the box and shoving the whole thing back at him so that you can use your free hand to remove the wrapper. There’s a part of you that’s disappointed he’s no longer so flustered, but you’re also no longer particularly focused on him. You toss the wrapper back into the box to see that you’d missed something: a little card, folded in half, with your name on it. You’ll look at that soon; you have a muffin to eat now.

“I don’t think four is enough, though,” you say as you take a real bite of the muffin. “You owe me a full month’s worth of these. How are you good at baking, too? That’s not fair.”

“I’m good at everything.” That earns him a scoff, but you’re smiling. He grabs one of the drinks from the cardboard holder still on the table—your drink, you realize, he’s bought you the one you get every day—from the table and shoves it, too, into your chest. “Here, this too.”

You take it with your free hand, treating yourself to another bite. “This is… really sweet. You remembered my order?”

“Hah?” he sneers. “What, you think I can’t remember your order? Like I haven’t heard it every day for a month?”

“It’s a complicated order. I’m allergic to milk, you know, so if you—”

“I got oat milk, dumbass. You keep trying all those weird alternatives and I figured that’d taste best.”

You frown. “I didn’t even know they had oat milk.”

“It’s new. Not on the menu yet; they’re gonna add it tomorrow.”

“How’d you learn about it, then?”

“The old lady did, while she gave me the muffin recipe. It’s more expensive. She just wants me to spend more money on her.”

You note, though you don’t comment on it, that he’s done exactly that despite his clear disdain.

He’s right, you realize as you take a sip of your coffee; the oat milk is best, better than your previous attempts with almond and coconut and soy, but you resolve not to tell him. As you go to take another bite of your muffin, you realize there’s a phone number written on your cup.

“Uh… I think you got a message.”

“What?”

You turn the cup so that he can see it. “Think it’s the cashier?”

Just like that, he’s flustered again, the bridge of his nose getting a dusting of pink as he snaps his head away and looks back at you through the side of his eye.

“It’s me,” he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to parse out, though the words don’t make sense.

“What?”

“I did it,” he repeats, glancing down. “It’s my number. For you.”

You open your mouth, gaping slightly for a moment before closing it again. Oh.

He doesn’t wait for you to speak as he reaches into the box and picks out that folded piece of paper to hold out to you. “This, too.”

Raising an eyebrow to look at it, you drop the half-eaten muffin into the box and take the paper from him with your free hand. It’s a request, phrased as a demand. Let me take you out to dinner. Signed with a name: Bakugo Katsuki.

When you glance up, your face is probably as hot as his looks. You’re gaping again, jaw slack, and he’s brought up his free hand to cover his face, crimson gaze peeking through his fingers.

“And the mighty hero Ground Zero has decided to… write his number on a coffee cup and ask me out with a piece of paper instead of. Talking to me. All right. Okay.”

“Kirishima said it’d be romantic,” he says, voice muffled by his large palm.

You’re pretty sure he’s lying.

“Well, I agree with him.” You drop the card back in the box, pulling out your phone to save the number as Muffin Thief ♥️ and send a quick text.

The sound of his phone (an explosion. Of course his text tone is an explosion. It’s probably one of his own) Ground Zero—no, you correct yourself, Bakugo—removes his hand from his face to check it. His eyes widen and he looks up, breaking into that endeared smile he’d been refraining from giving you when he first caught you.

“Yeah, Friday works for me.”

You lean in, unable to resist, and press a kiss to his cheek. “Great. Pick me up at 7.”

[jomamaofficial]

You should have said something pt.3 (Bakugou x fem!Reader)

AN: ASDFGH, I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH. Y'all loved the last post and it gave me motivation to really carry this series on. Please leave comments and replies and suggestions in the suggestion box because I will read them all. I love you guys so much <3. Drink water, eat and enjoy. Masterlist Edit: Part 4 is up.

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Silence. Utter silence. You could hear the chews and the clanks of the cutlery hitting the plates, but you couldn’t hear an actual conversation. A few words shared here and there didn’t qualify as a conversation for you. If it hadn’t been for the strict etiquette your parents brought you up with, you wouldn’t be at the dinner table, let alone asking Mitsuki how her day was.

You looked at the man sitting across you, his eyes glued to his phone.

He was like this from the start, the moment he walked in your house: one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding his phone, something he seemed awfully interested in.

You tried to negotiate, you tried to reason but to no avail, you were silenced with the same answer.

“You haven’t even tried it out, how can you shoot down the idea so fast?”

Everyone has a point where they give up. Everyone has a tipping point. You hit yours too fast. Could anyone blame you though?

All was lost when your parents handed your life over to the Bakugous, utterly oblivious and neglectful to how you felt. They saw it as allowing you to take another path in your life, but that wasn’t how you saw it.

You saw it as a big fuck you to your face. A measly attempt to lift the burden you caused on them.

You promised yourself you’d make the most out of the situation at hand. You had to.You were robbed of your choice to marry the person you loved. You were stripped of your control, your freedom, your sanity. You could choose to let his resent get to you, further straining your relationship that already toppled over. Or you could choose to ignore his anger, and disdain, and hatred and build a safe foundation by yourself. He couldn’t stay angry at you forever. He was a hero... he had to be reasonable. But... you did insert yourself in his life without a warning. You did end his relationship. You did raise speculations and rumours around the two of them… You did live as a nightmare in his mind, a nightmare who had no meaning, no worth, no value, no goal apart from leaving his life in ruins.

He’d forgive you…

“I can never forgive myself.”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, jolting you from your dazed state. Your cheeks were wet, your foresight blurring. You could feel it.

Anger stirred in his eyes as he watched you breakdown into a teary mess. His fingers went back to his phone. Ping.

“Why the fuck are you crying? You’re the one who let this happen. Not me.”