Strong | BnHA/MHA {Katsuki Bakugō x Reader} {Discontinued!}

8 | The Storms That Brew Behind Masks

Several hours ensuing, (Y/n) lay sprawled on her back, exhausted, chest heaving with excessive might, the air at this elevated altitude thin and sparse. The furling and twisting collection of fluffy clouds hanging aloft a magnificent sight.

Rivulets of abundant sweat dripped down her unmoving face and neck. Not many yards away her backpack was tossed haphazardly, she couldn't care less where exactly at the moment.

That godforsaken trail proved to be substantially difficult. There were areas nearly impassable. (Y/n) had to squeeze through slim spaces separating craggy enclosures, crawl, bound overhead perilous cracks splintering the mineral terrain, and essentially sprint full speed whenever the opportunity presented itself lest she wanted to kiss goodbye her chances of prevailing.

Truthfully, (Y/n) lost track of Bakugō ages ago, too absorbed with not fucking slipping and dying a premature death.

Splittjng her ladened eyes open farther, (Y/n) listlessly gazed in the direction of heavy breathing, choppy expletives vocalized out of frustration and arrant fatigue. But, seeing Bakugō's hunched form struggling to intake oxygen caused (Y/n) to raise a triumphant fist.

". . . Success. . ." Wiping the beading perspire off her drenched brow, (Y/n) rolled to her smarting side, standing with great difficulty.

"I. . . demand. . . a rematch," Bakugō hissed ferociously, literal smoke dispersing off him in thick droves. A wild sheen eclipsed his flaring irises as he intermittently gasped, damp hair partly shadowing his expression.

Picking up her discarded bag with a loose grip, (Y/n) rolled her aching shoulders. "Sounds fun, Hotshot. . . but maybe later, I won fair and square this time around." Undoing the zipper, (Y/n) rummaged for the bundle of food she packed, her howling stomach controlling her rushed movements.

"No. . . I won't accept. . . failure. Losing against anyone. . . especially someone as wretchedly pitiful as you. . . is unacceptable," he ranted balefully, demeanor offputting, spewing more hateful garbage after intaking another faltering breath. "Let's fight for real. Right here, right now."

Blocking the rest of his words, (Y/n)'s doomed heart stuttered, complexion collapsing into cold disinterest. "Bakugō. . ."

He didn't listen nor respond, which prompted (Y/n) to shove a heaping chunk of food into his mouth without warning. Spluttering and coughing, Bakugō smacked his abdomen repeatedly to prevent himself from chocking, but at long last, he ceased blabbering nonstop.

(Y/n) sighed pensively, shuffling to sit down and dangle her wobbling legs over a steep, overhanging edge. A massive knot wrung (Y/n)'s stomach in churning coils, a whisper of a distant past caressing her memory.

"For starters, knucklehead, we aren't sparring, and stop getting so aggravated over silly matters. You win some, you lose some. End of story." (Y/n) centered on eating, wiping anything unpleasant from her reminiscing mind.

"That means," the violent noise he made sounded as if he hacked up a dislodged lung, "jack fucking shit to me!"

(Y/n) was a shallow hypocrite. Instead of extracting herself from the escalating volatile situation, she ruthlessly bit back tenfold. "AND YOU HOLLERING WHILE THROWING A PETTY HISSY FIT LIKE SOME UNCULTURED SWINE MEANS FUCK ALL TO ME, SO IT LOOKS LIKE WE'RE EVEN. CONGRATULATIONS!"

A pregnant, almost everlasting, dense spell crushed the ambience invading the disorderly silence. Bakugō's jaw was disbelievingly unhinged, crimson orbs fairly stunned. Sure, (Y/n) oftentimes retorted sharply against his malicious comments, but never had she yelled so cruelly and reproachfully before.