"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue, isn't cringe and realistic.
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𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐢𝐧 "𝐏𝐭: 𝟎...
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-Bakugos 3rd person pov-
November 24th, Friday - 7:46 pm
The rumble of the car engine faded as Bakugo pulled into the driveway, the sleek black exterior of his car gleaming faintly under the dim glow of the streetlight.
He shifted the gear into park and leaned back against the leather seat, letting out a long sigh.
Patrol had been a pain-nothing major, but enough petty crimes and civilian interruptions to drain his energy.
"Damn idiots," he muttered, running a hand through his blonde hair, now slightly damp with sweat.
His crimson eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching the faint smudge of dirt on his cheek.
He reached over, grabbed his duffel bag from the passenger seat, and opened the door.
The sharp click of it echoed in the quiet neighborhood.
Stepping out, he stretched his back, his muscles protesting after hours of being on high alert.
The cool afternoon air felt good against his skin, still warm from the adrenaline of patrol.
Bakugo slammed the door shut and hit the lock button on his key fob, the car giving a satisfying beep.
Adjusting the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, he headed toward the front door.
His boots crunched softly against the gravel path, and he glanced up at the house.
Fumbling with his keys, he muttered under his breath, "Damn thing... every freakin' time."
Finally, the key slid into the lock, and he turned it with a satisfying click.
The door creaked open, and Bakugo stepped inside, the familiar scent of home immediately greeting him.
He kicked off his boots near the door, not bothering to line them up neatly, and dropped his duffel bag on the floor with a heavy thud.
The comforting silence of the house surrounded Bakugo as he stepped further into the house.
His sharp eyes scanned the space, ensuring everything was in its proper place.
With a quick glance at the clock on the wall, he muttered, "Damn late," before shrugging off his hero jacket entirely and tossing it over the back of the couch.
He stretched his arms above his head, his shoulders popping slightly from the strain of the day.
A faint scowl crossed his face as he rolled his neck.
"Gotta stop letting those damn brats pull me into extra patrols," he thought, kicking the duffel bag lightly toward the wall to deal with later.
