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KIND HEARTS — k. bakugo (1k+ words)

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅. Using isolation, you seek to escape a miserable and painful past. However, you meet somebody who might be able to help you cope.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. bear shifter!bakugo x witch!reader

THE MAN-MADE MAN -> INSTINCTS -> SURVIVAL

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (open):

@the-witches-you-couldnt-burn , @osiris1rhi , @skbakusimp , @smashboxgirl26 , @bakucuddles , @esloao , @r-royce , @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore , @izhetttttt , @atsushiki, @gonnafyourmom24-7

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Winter was your favorite season. It’s not as popular with others because for them, it’s a sign of disease and devastation, whereas, for you, it’s a sign of secrecy. You also love silent. Due to the harsh weather during this time, visitors are few because they stay away, leaving you alone until the spring arrives. Of course, you don’t allow that to take place.

At least, that’s how you perceived it.

As part of your daily routines, you searched for smelly lemons, shimmer peaches, serimansi, and other one-of-a-kind fruits…

…and the next thing you know, you’re studying the blurred footprints that marred the eight-inch veil of the December bed, ruining the perfect, clean appearance. The majority of them were similar to yours but much bigger and wider, and the other, smaller distinctive couple; you shortly recognized as paws. Men and men’s best friends.

In front of them, there was a track with much bigger footprints, ones you couldn’t recognize since the men’s shoes combined with them.

Moreover, blood had dyed the snow crimson red. A great deal of blood, actually.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. Almost unnerving is the sight.

The blood trail eventually led you to the camp where they were hiding. Towards the end of the bloodshed, a fur tent appears, and you prepare yourself to attack. Despite this, when you fling it’s flimsy doors open, there was only a large patch of blood in the middle, with no signs of human life and a heck-ton of blotted bandages. With no need to stay longer, you exited.

“Okay,” you think to yourself, ignoring the other footpath that trailed off behind you, “they were presumably hunting and one of their comrades might have been in—”

Your heart lunges into your throat as you hear a loud, nasty roar that you immediately identify as that of a bear. In a minute of stillness, you whip around again, anticipating finding an agitated and ravenous bear behind you, but you’re met with your own swirling winter wonderland in its place.

A second one passes by and your eyes fixate on a bush farther away from the campsite.

Strenuous huffing led you to a bush of early dragon oranges. As you gently parted its snow-draped branches, you discovered a badly wounded animal lying upon the delicate snow, which had begun to blush and deteriorate the longer it was left exposed.

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