#waaaahhhj

[willowser]

arranged marriage + the missus and the ex w izuku😏😏😏😏(def not calling back to that one snippet you wrote about this😜😜😜😜😜)

OOOOOOH THIS ONE SOUNDS ROUGH OKAY. whenever i think arranged marriage, i think fantasy au okay ? OKAY ? I'M SORRY BUT WE'RE DOING IT !!!

izuku has been king yagi's ward for as long as you can remember. a small, freckle-faced boy that sat down the table from you, that ate the vegetables you didn't want, that played tag with you in the royal gardens and put flowers in your hair.

you taught him how to dance with his two left feet, and you watched him train his body beyond its limits. where he once had to look up at you, just a little, it seemed as if he hit a growth spurt overnight, while you were both in your teens, and then his shoulders broadened and his thighs thickened. izuku became a wall of muscle, his round face thinning a bit throughout the years — though his eyes never dimmed, and his smile never lost its gentle shine.

he is the first boy you love. the first boy that kisses you behind the stables, even though you both know he shouldn't. he is the first boy to untie the ribbons of your dress, wide hands scarred and shaking, the first boy you allow in your bed despite the risks.

you're young and you believe in happy-endings, true love, and you think if you tell the king, your father, of your heart's desires, that he will listen. that he will see the truth in the way izuku looks at you, that boyish redness to his face when you smile at him.

but then the barbarians come.

where izuku is solid and strong, bakugou katsuki is tall and cut from stone. the same weight does not lie in his fists, but he is faster, smarter in the heat of battle, born and bred for it.

aizawa, your father’s advisor, tells you that men like him learn to hold knives before they learn to walk. how to draw blood before they speak their first words. izuku has trained his entire life, but — you think of his hand in your own, soft and gentle.

you marry bakugou katsuki for the safety of your country, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the blazing fires of his encampment. you drink wine made from blood-red grapes and eat meat from an animal you never have before. he doesn't kiss you because they don't do that; instead he cuts his finger and paints a shape on your forehead and cheeks with his own blood.

izuku isn't there.

the marriage is consummated because there's no way around it. bakugou isn't shy about his body, or yours, and he touches you like he's certain. he doesn't hold you like izuku does, and instead you are put to your knees with your cheek against the furs that he sleeps on. it's nothing so brutal as you might have expected, but — it's not izuku either.

(truthfully, you're not sure how you feel about it — him — though you could never admit such a thing out loud, have a hard enough time admitting it to yourself. your cheeks heat at the thought of izuku's fingers brushing over them, his mouth gently pressed against your own, hiding his little gasps in the soft skin of your throat.

— but there is something satisfying, in a dark, primal way, about the warm hand bakugou keeps on your waist, how he tangles his fingers in the hair at your nape to make you look up at him, the mark he bites into your shoulder.

making him grin, with all his sharp teeth and scrunched nose, feels like an accomplishment. leaves you with a warm, special glow. it feels earned and not simply given, and as someone that has been waited on hand foot all their life — that affects you in ways you could have never expected.)

izuku visits as often as he can; as often as your father will allow, for as long as your husband will allow. you typically spend time outside the encampment, just beyond the hill under the cottonwood trees, talking close and laughing low. sometimes, as the sun sets, you'll find your hand in his.

"i hope i'm able to return for it," you tell him, in response to his excitement over being knighted, finally. "masaru says we're to return to their homeland before winter meets the seas."

izuku doesn't say anything, only smiles sadly, forced, as if you couldn't read the pain on his face from miles away. he nods once before looking out over the valley where the encampment has been set up, thinking wistfully. the wind ruffles through his gentle curls and he smells like home, like warm bread and your clean sheets. the sort of things you thought you couldn't live without.

and yet—

"oi," bakugou appears then, face pinched and drawn, scowl deepening as you pull your hand from izuku's. he scoffs once to himself and then turns, quietly commanding you, "come."

you know better than to allow the already thick tension between them grow; one word from izuku can set your husband off, and so you try to smile at him reassuringly, squeezing his hand once more as you bid him goodnight. he dares to fiddle with your hair, wide eyes memorizing your face before letting you go.

it's a surprise that you find bakugou waiting at the edge of the hill as he, too, looks out over his encampment. he always scowls at your dress because it slows you down, usually keeps you a few feet behind him, but he's still, quiet.

when you approach him, he says nothing. doesn't look at you either, simply frowns in the light of the moon, the softness it adds to his face. you watch him silently, waiting for him to continue on back to your shared tent, but — he looks down at his side, before offering his palm, wide and flat.

you take it after a moment, after realizing what it is he's asking, and you can't help but to smile at him softly, as he looks at you. memorizing your face. hand soft and gentle in your own.

✨️ trope game 🩷

[anonymouscentral]

WAAAAHHHJ

AHHH????