Mymanmymanmymanmyman

katsuki bakugou // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

if tides could speak (they'd call you home)

sleeping aid

cover shot (through the heart)

command me

pumpkin spice and everything nice

she's my wife

on my way (to you)

savvy

you wear them well

countdown

mamamatcher

you're the one that i haunt

backup

signal

you are the reason my heart is still beating

and you take me the way i am

organic chemistry

flower crown

safe haven

reinvention

a thousand petals for one unrequited love

+

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Yall know what time it is

CHAPTER 10: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 3.5k

warning: Guns, blood, car accident (let me know if I missed anything)

an: this was actually the hardest chapter to write, my brain has not been working properly. This chapter shows what Bakugo was doing the night he found out about James and Morettis daughter (chap 8). While Y/N was taking Milly to the cabin and figuring out Morettis location, Bakugo was plotting behind her back. Anyways enjoy 🫶

“Dynamight, we’ve found something.”

Bakugo stood in the middle of your home, surrounded by officers and detectives tearing through your personal belongings. The scene was chaotic, and the constant rustling of drawers, the clinking of metal, and the shuffle of paper filled the air.

He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at this point. All he could remember was staring at the picture of the young girl—the one that had sent his mind spiraling. From there, everything became a blur. Thoughts of you, of Moretti, of connections he didn’t want to make but couldn’t escape, tumbled through his mind. The sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

Rage began to churn in his chest. The next thing he remembered, he was barking orders, directing his best detectives to enter your house. He hadn’t expected you to be here—didn’t want to look you in the eyes as his team scoured every corner of the home you’d made.

It felt wrong, even as his anger justified the intrusion. This was an invasion of privacy—bordering on illegal. But he didn’t care. The truth was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant crossing lines.

“Sir?”

A younger detective called to him from down the hallway. Bakugo turned to find the officer standing at the door of your bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, his gaze landed on the framed photos that lined the walls. They were snapshots of your life—moments you had chosen to remember, moments that once made him feel like he knew you.

One of those photos caught his eye, a picture of you and him together. It was taken after his birthday celebration. You’d begged him to take a picture with you. The photo was simple—he stood beside you, dressed in his usual attire, while you held onto his arm with a soft, playful smile. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he remembered the night vividly. He remembered the warmth of the crowd, the laughter, the sense that something unspoken had passed between the two of you.

Now, the sight of that photo made him want to destroy it, to wipe away the reminder of how wrong everything had become.

“We found a safe in the closet,” the detective said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We’re working on opening it now.”

“Good. If you don’t get it open soon, I’ll blow it open myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officers worked on the safe, Bakugo took a moment to assess the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how much it didn’t match the woman he thought he knew. The room was too dull, too plain, for someone as vibrant and energetic as you.

The beige walls felt sterile, the white sheets on the bed lacking even the smallest touch of personality. It didn’t feel like you. It felt like an imposter.

He wondered if this was where you went to grieve in silence. If it was him, he’d feel suffocated by the emptiness of the space.

“Sir, come take a look at this.”

The detective’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Bakugo stepped over, looking down at the contents of the safe with growing unease.

A M1911 pistol rested on the first shelf, and beneath it, a picture and a clear bag containing something shiny—was that a necklace?

“Is it loaded?”

“No, sir.”

“Put the gun in the evidence bag.”

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to the photo, his stomach twisting as he picked it up. It was a picture of you and Moretti’s daughter, the little girl smiling with her toothless grin. And you… you looked so young, so full of life in the selfie you’d taken with her.

A sick feeling washed over him as the realization hit—this wasn’t just some random photo. It was proof that you were connected to Moretti in ways he hadn’t wanted to believe.

He slipped the picture into the evidence bag before his eyes fell to the necklace. It was a simple gold charm with the letter “N” etched into it. His fingers traced the surface as he turned it over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. He shoved it back into the bag without thinking.

Every inch of his body ached with betrayal. You were someone he’d trusted, and now he found out you had been lying to him the entire time. The woman he had secretly loved, who had kept him in the dark.

Turning away from the bedroom, he made his way back to the living room, the weight of what he’d just uncovered sinking deeper with each step. He was seething now—his body shaking with fury, the kind of anger that made it hard to breathe.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima’s voice reached him just as his hands began to tremble. His red-haired friend stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell did you do, Bakugo?”

Bakugo’s teeth clenched. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about the way this might look. To him, the truth was clearer than ever.

“She’s working for Moretti.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kirishima’s voice was laced with confusion, clearly not following his train of thought.

“Moretti’s daughter is her damn daughter. She’s the reason he’s even here.”

“No, man… you don’t know that. Calm down.”

Bakugo was beyond calming down. His voice rose, dripping with fury.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” His fist clenched, ready to put it through the wall if only to release the frustration coursing through him.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bakugos shaking hands. His heart sank as he pieced together what Bakugo must’ve found. “Okay,” he said carefully, “I’m not saying it doesn’t look bad. But we don’t know the full story yet.”

“I know enough.” Bakugo’s voice was lower now, but no less deadly. “She lied to us. She lied to me.”

Kirishima hesitated. “What if she didn’t? What if there’s more to this? Maybe she had a reason—”

“Reason?” Bakugo barked a humorless laugh. “You think there’s a reason good enough to keep photos of another man’s daughter? The man who’s been killing innocent women?” His voice cracked, and he abruptly turned away, his fists shaking at his sides.

Kirishima stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m not saying Moretti isn’t scum. We both know he is. But we’ve got to be smart here. If we go off half-cocked—”

“I’m done talking,” Bakugo growled, cutting him off. “I’m done sitting around waiting for the truth to slap me in the face. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“Bakugo, no!” Kirishima’s hand shot out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. If you go after her now—”

A feminine voice cut through the tension, freezing both men in their tracks.

“Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath hitching. Standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dim light, was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

YN POV

You had headed back home to grab a few things for the cabin, expecting a quick in-and-out trip. But as soon as you turned onto your street, your stomach dropped. Red and blue lights strobed against the darkened houses, and cop cars lined the road like a barricade.

Your heart pounded as you pulled to a stop, barely managing to put the car in park before you stepped out. Your house was the center of the commotion, its front door hanging ajar. Officers milled about, some talking into radios, others examining the scene.

Anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting, pushing past the confusion. Your house was supposed to be your safe space, a sanctuary. Now it looked like a crime scene.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded, striding toward the nearest officer.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the officer said, holding up a hand to stop you.

“This is my house!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Detectives swarmed your house, tearing through your things, rummaging through your personal items with no care for your privacy. Bags of evidence piled up on your kitchen table, and a detective nearly barreled into you.

You froze in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest. Among the chaos of the ransacked house, the sight of Bakugo and Kirishima arguing in front of your kitchen was the last thing you expected.

“Katsuki,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

Both of them turned at the sound of your voice, but it was Bakugo who held your gaze—and the look on his face nearly stopped you cold. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable, a storm raging just beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his voice venomous and sharp enough to cut.

Your stomach twisted at the sheer hatred in his tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

Kirishima stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Hey, Bakugo, chill out for a second—”

“No,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off without looking away from you. “She doesn’t get to ‘chill out.’ Not after this.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, threatening to collapse entirely.

Kirishima noticed your stillness and laid a hand on your shoulder, but you yanked it off immediately, still frozen by Bakugo’s gaze.

“You raided my home?” 

“And I had a damn good reason to,” he snarled, his anger unrestrained.

“Why?” The words slipped out of your mouth, a mix of hurt and confusion.

Bakugo said nothing. He just glanced toward Kirishima.

“Detain her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She didn’t do anything!” Kirishima’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I said detain her. That’s an order.”

The room was spinning. Your head felt light as Kirishima reluctantly moved toward you, his hands on your wrists, but he was gentler than Bakugo. You didn’t fight him, though. You knew it would only make things worse.

“It’s okay, Kiri.” you said, forcing a smile through the tightness in your chest.

Kirishima’s expression faltered, but he complied. He cuffed your hands behind your back, ensuring they weren’t too tight.

As Kirishima gently guided you toward the door, his grip more protective than forceful, you stole one last glance at Bakugo. But he wouldn’t look at you. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his fists still trembling at his sides.

You didn’t fight, didn’t plead anymore. The truth was about to come out and you couldn't stop it. 

---

The ride to the precinct was silent.

The cuffs were uncomfortable, but you refused to let the discomfort show. You sat with your back straight, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to push away the suffocating feeling of betrayal and hurt threatening to take over.

Kirishima sat beside you, silent as well, his expression hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much after putting the cuffs on you. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, just like you could feel Bakugo’s fury burning into your skin, even though you weren’t looking at him.

Your mind was racing, replaying every moment, every word, every glance exchanged between you and Bakugo.

There was a part of you that wanted to scream, to yell at him for thinking the worst of you. But you knew that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make him see reason, or make him understand what you were trying to protect.

Kirishima’s hand on your shoulder felt comforting, but also distant.

"Y/N..." He spoke your name softly, like he didn’t want to push you further. “I know this is hard, but... you’ve got to trust me, okay? This will all get figured out."

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple, Kiri.”

"I know," he murmured. "But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The words were kind, but they did little to calm the storm inside of you. How could you explain everything? How could you make him, or Bakugo, understand that there was so much more to the story than they could ever imagine? 

“Hey, slow down a little, will ya?” Bakugo’s gruff voice cut through the tense silence, pulling your attention away from your frantic thoughts.

The driver didn’t answer. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as the car weaved recklessly through traffic. The engine roared as he pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer needle climbing past 80 mph.

Bakugo shifted in his seat, glaring at the man behind the wheel. “Did you hear me? Slow the hell down!”

But the driver wasn’t fazed. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw clenched, a sinister focus etched across his face.

Bakugo turned his attention to you and Kirishima in the backseat. “Put your fucking seat belts on. Now.”

Kirishima reached for his belt without hesitation. 

​​“I can’t,” you muttered, lifting your cuffed hands slightly.

“Shit,” Kirishima hissed, moving to help you before pausing. 

The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the car, and you saw it—

“She leaves her seat belt off.”

The barrel of a gun pressed against the side of Bakugo’s head, his reflexes too fast for most, but this time, he was trapped. The driver held the weapon steady with one hand, the other gripping the wheel as the car swerved dangerously close to the divider.

Bakugo’s ruby eyes sharpened into daggers. His growl was low and menacing, each word laced with a promise of violence. “You really wanna point that thing at me? You won’t even have time to regret it.”

“Shut up,” the driver snapped, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to catch you and Kirishima. “If anyone moves, I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Kirishima started to speak, his voice cautious. “Hey, man, let’s not—”

“Quiet!” the driver barked, his voice cutting like a whip.

“Kirishima,” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, his tone eerily calm despite the gun at his temple. “Put her seat belt on.”

“No!” the driver roared. His voice rose in panic and anger as he glanced at you. “I said leave it off! If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill you all right here.”

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Bakugo. His jaw was set, his teeth grinding audibly. The unspoken rage in his glare was enough to shake anyone to their core.

“Kats, leave it,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just... don’t.”

The car surged forward again, narrowly missing a merging vehicle. The tires screeched as the driver veered into another lane, the momentum slamming you against Kirishima. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The car was speeding recklessly now, weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. If he crashed, you knew there was no chance of survival.

You leaned closer to Kirishima, keeping your voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t hear. “8237 Alpine Avenue,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Kirishima’s brows knitted in confusion as he glanced at you.

“8237 Alpine Avenue,” you repeated, your tone urgent and unwavering. “Don’t forget that address.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze locking with his, every word you spoke heavy with determination. “If something happens to me, find the girl. She’s your priority. Do you understand? Promise me.”

His face paled, and his mouth opened to argue, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

Bakugo’s sharp voice pulled your attention back to the front. “You think you’re getting away with this?” he spat at the driver, his tone a mix of rage and scorn.

The driver sneered but didn’t respond. The tension was unbearable, and every nerve in your body screamed for an escape.

Then Bakugo’s voice cut through the chaos like a detonating bomb. “WATCH OUT!” 

The driver’s reaction was split-second—he jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. The car swerved violently, tires screeching against the asphalt. Horns blared as other drivers slammed on their brakes, narrowly avoiding the spiraling vehicle.

The world seemed to tilt as the car lost control. You felt the terrifying weightlessness of your body being thrown forward, held back only by Kirishima’s arms as he shielded you with his bulk.

“Hold on!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of metal scraping and glass shattering.

The car spun out of control, skidding sideways before tipping. The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the air as the vehicle flipped.

Once.

Twice.

Your head slammed against the side of the door, stars bursting across your vision. The cuffs on your wrists dug painfully into your skin as you struggled to brace yourself.

“Y/N!” Kirishima’s voice was frantic, his grip tightening like a vice as he tried to keep you from being thrown around the cabin.

Then two gunshots rang out next.

The sharp crack was almost drowned by the chaos, but you saw the flash of the barrel as the driver fired in panic. The bullet shattered the windshield, fragments of glass spraying like deadly confetti.

Bakugo roared, his instincts kicking in despite the chaos. He lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the driver’s wrist. The gun flew from his hand, ricocheting off the dashboard and landing somewhere in the wreckage.

The car hit the guardrail with a bone-jarring crunch, flipping one last time before coming to a grinding halt on its side. Smoke and steam hissed from the crumpled hood as the vehicle groaned under its own weight.

Silence.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Your ears rang, the sound of your own ragged breathing the only thing grounding you.

“Y/N,” Kirishima rasped, his voice pained but steady. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you choked out, though your entire body ached. Blood trickled down your temple, and your hands were trembling as you tried to move.

A groan from the driver’s seat snapped you back to reality. The man was slumped over the wheel, dazed but alive.

Bakugo, however, was anything but dazed.

He kicked open what was left of the passenger door, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he reached in, dragging the driver out by his collar and slamming him against the side of the wreckage.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who sent you,” Bakugo snarled, his voice a lethal growl.

“Katsuki!” you called out weakly, struggling to sit up as Kirishima worked to try to free you from the wreckage.

Bakugo ignored you, his grip tightening on the driver’s shirt. “Five seconds,” he hissed, raising his fist. “Then you’re gonna wish you didn’t survive this crash.”

You tried to shift, to push yourself upright, but the moment you put weight on your left leg, a sharp, searing pain shot through you. It wasn’t just pain—it was like your body refused to move, as if the limb had simply given up.

“I—I think I broke my leg,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you clutched at the car door for support.

Kirishima’s head whipped around to look at you, his expression shifting from panic to something darker as his eyes traveled down to your leg. He crouched down, his hands hovering just above the injury as he took in the sight.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his face paling. “That’s not a break. You’ve been shot.”

Your breath hitched. You glanced down at your leg and saw it—the dark stain of blood spreading across your thigh, dripping down to pool at your feet. 

The pain in your leg was unbearable now, sharp and throbbing with every heartbeat. Your body screaming at you to stay conscious even as your vision swam.

“Fuck…” you groaned again, the dizziness hitting you like a wave. “I’m dizzy…”

“Hey, no, no, don’t do that.” Kirishima’s voice cracked, his worry palpable. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Bakugo. Just hang on!”

You watched as he climbed out of the shattered car window, his movements frantic but deliberate. The muffled sound of his voice shouting for Bakugo was the only thing anchoring you to reality, though even that was fading fast.

The car felt like it was spinning, the metallic scent of blood and smoke filling your lungs. Each breath was harder than the last, and your eyelids grew heavier despite your best efforts to keep them open.

From outside, the sound of screeching tires from cars appearing and distant explosions shattered the chaotic silence. The fury in Bakugo’s signature blasts reverberated through the air, shaking the ground beneath the car. It was as though the world itself was trembling in response to his rage.

Your head lolled to the side, the edges of your vision darkening. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the roar of Bakugo’s explosions, louder now, like he was right outside the car.

And then, nothing.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

just know if i could crawl on the ceiling on all fours i would

Guys my favorite show is on

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is a series, so other parts are here!

☞ Link: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.

Bakugo x Jealous female reader

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

Author's note: This is a short one, but I think it's so cutie, more Bakugo interaction, BTW.

Summer break has faded away, replaced by the crisp air of fall. Leaves have begun to turn, the days growing shorter. The drama with Kimiko has died down, or at least, people stopped talking about it, but her relentless flirting with Bakugo hasn’t.

Lately, though, he seems more annoyed than anything. Maybe she’s finally starting to get on his nerves.

You’re curled up in your dorm, textbooks open but barely registering as you absentmindedly tap your pencil against the page.

A sudden knock breaks your focus. Furrowing your brows, you get up and open the door to find Bakugo standing there, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets.

"Bakugo?" You blink, surprised. "Hey…"

"Hey. Come on, let’s go."

You stare at him. "Go where?"

He exhales sharply, like this is harder than it should be. "Just... hang out. You and me."

Your heart stutters at you and me, but you school your expression before he can notice. He’s not the type to just ask people to hang out. Not unless he has a reason.

Still, you nod. "Alright."

The two of you leave campus together, the cool autumn breeze rustling through the trees. The scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires lingers in the air. After walking in silence for a bit, you finally ask...

"So… where are we going?"

"I saw this café ad a while back. Figured you’d like it." He mutters it like it’s not a big deal, but the fact that he even thought about it means something.

A small smile tugs at your lips. "Oh. Alright then. Lead the way."

He grunts in acknowledgment and keeps walking.

The café is small but inviting, its exterior adorned with warm string lights and an old wooden sign. He holds the door open for you without a word. The scent of fresh pastries and coffee wraps around you like a blanket as you step inside.

You both order hot cocoa, Bakugo grumbling about how "coffee’s just burnt bean water" when the cashier hands it to him, and head back outside, walking toward a nearby park.

The world around you is quiet, save for the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. The pond reflects the golden hues of autumn, rippling slightly in the breeze.

Despite being the one to invite you out, Bakugo hasn’t said much. Not that you’ve been any better.

You tighten your grip around your cup, the warmth grounding you. "What’s going on with us, Katsuki?" The words slip out before you can stop them. They taste like salt on your tongue.

Bakugo glances at you from the corner of his eye. "The hell are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean." You exhale.

"We don’t talk like we used to. We barely spend time together. It’s like, we’re drifting apart."

Bakugo scoffs, but there’s no real bite behind it. He doesn’t say anything right away, just stares out at the water.

The silence is unbearable.

"You’re my best friend, Katsuki," you say quietly. "But lately, it doesn’t feel like it."

For a long moment, he doesn’t respond.

Then...

"For one, you keep calling me ‘Bakugo,’" he mutters.

"What?"

He exhales, shaking his head. "You’re not a damn stranger. Call me by my first name."

The request, no, demand, hits you harder than you expect.

"Second," he continues, voice lower now, "yeah… we’ve drifted. I’ll admit it."

His jaw tightens, and for once, he looks almost uncomfortable. "But I don’t wanna stop being friends. Alright?"

You feel a weight lift off your chest. "I don’t want that either, Katsuki."

"Good." He takes another sip of his cocoa, eyes fixed on the pond. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

He suddenly reaches over, grabbing your pinkie with his own and locking them together. His hand is warm, rough from years of training.

"Promise we’ll spend more time together."

A small laugh escapes you. "A pinkie promise?"

"Tch." He scowls but doesn’t let go. "Just shut up and do it." You squeeze his pinkie with yours.

"Promise."

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

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

GOD WHY IS HE JUST SO UGH 😩

CALLUM TURNER as Thomas Webb in The Only Living Boy in New York (2017)

Remember kids! NEVER save left-over antibiotics! You should never have leftover antibiotics, because you have to finish the whole course! Not doing so, or giving your antibiotics to someone else who hasn’t been prescribed them is how we got superbugs, that are resistant to antibiotics! 

ALWAYS finish your antibiotics, even if you don’t think you’re sick anymore! NEVER give your antibiotics to other people, there is no guaruntee they will have any effect, or the same effect, and without a full course, will not help them even if it is the right medicine for the job. 

BOTH cases result in resistant superbugs, which are dangerous to everyone, and hurt everyone. You might think you’re helping your poorer friends who cannot afford an antibiotic/to be seen by a doctor, but you’re not. You’re just hurting everyone.