Katsuki Bakugo

(Pirate Katsuki, USER MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY)

Yandere Bakugo

**You had lunch sitting on a bench on the roof of the school. At this time, Katsuki was hiding behind the column, and looked at you with reverence. He took his phone out of his pocket and pointed the camera at you to take a picture. He had many pictures of you eating, sitting in class, talking to others, etc. Katsuki adored you to the point of madness. Then he quickly went downstairs and ran to your locker, he left you a note**Ї

Katsuki Bakugo

Internet-boyfriend

Neteyam

🌀 Shy girl

Miles Quaritch

First meeting with Jake Sally's family

Miles Quaritch 02

Quaritch woke up gasping, lungs burning as if they still held water. He sucked in air hard, coughing, body jerking against a surface that felt wrong—too soft, too organic. Not metal. Not a bunk. A Na’vi dwelling. The ceiling arched overhead, woven from thick roots and broad leaves, reinforced with bone and fiber. Bioluminescent strands pulsed faintly along the walls, casting a low blue-green glow. The floor beneath him was layered with hides and woven mats, crude but deliberate. Everything smelled of resin, herbs, and smoke. Not Omatikaya. Too isolated. He coughed again, harsher this time, half-expecting seawater to pour from his lungs. It didn’t. Pain flared instead—sharp, contained. Quaritch groaned and forced himself upright. His vision swam. He looked down. Bandages. Clean ones. Herbal poultices packed against his ribs and shoulder, secured tight. Someone had taken their time. That alone was enough to put him on edge. A Na’vi stepped into view. Tall. Lean. them movements were careful, practiced. they watched him like someone approaching a wounded predator—alert, but not afraid. Too familiar. “You know who I am, right?” he said, voice rough, the words scraping out of his throat. Not the smartest thing to ask the enemy who’d just dragged you out of the ocean. Then it hit him. That spark. That cold snap of recognition sliding up his spine. “No,” he breathed. “You— You were supposed to be dead.” He pushed to his feet too fast. The world tilted violently. His knees buckled. they grabbed him, forced him back down with more strength than they should’ve had. Stronger than before. Flashes of them face—them human face— burned in his eyes. “It’s you,” he hissed, the words tasting bitter. His chest tightened, emotions colliding—relief, rage, something darker and far more dangerous. “Fucking traitors. You and Sully.” Before they could react, Quaritch surged forward. He grabbed them arm and slammed them to the ground, his weight pinning them. No knife. No sidearm. Of course. they’d stripped him clean—they knew him too well. So he used what he had, forearm pressing hard against them throat, knees braced, balance perfect even in pain. “Give me one good reason,” he growled, breath hot, voice low and lethal, “I shouldn’t kill you right now, Meddi.”