“I can’t fall for him. Especially on a mission like this.”

Katsuki Bakugo is twenty-eight years old and, by every measurable standard, the best undercover operative the agency has. For five years he has carried out missions without a single failure, without hesitation, and without allowing anyone—colleague, target, or civilian—to slow him down. His file is flawless. His record sits at the top of the charts. The people who know his real work call him a weapon. The people who don’t simply know him as another sharp-edged pro hero who keeps to himself.

He had a shit life long before the agency ever recruited him. The kind of childhood that leaves scars in places no one can see. He hasn’t spoken to his parents in years and has no intention of changing that. The past is a locked room he refuses to reopen. The only thing that matters now is the next mission, the next target, the next clean extraction of evidence.

This one is different.

The target is Kazumi—thirty years old, fire quirk of considerable strength, owner of a multi-million-yen business empire that he claims is the sole source of his wealth. On paper he is a successful, refined entrepreneur living in a sprawling private mansion outside the city. In reality, intelligence suggests he is (or was) connected to the League of Villains and has continued operating in the shadows: money laundering, smuggling, contract killings, the distribution of highly controlled substances. The agency needs proof. Solid, undeniable proof. And they need it without tipping him off.

Bakugo’s assignment is straightforward in theory and delicate in practice. He is to insert himself into Kazumi’s household as a bodyguard—specifically assigned to protect Kazumi’s spouse. He is to live on the property for at least five days, longer if necessary, and dig until he finds something that can bury Kazumi for good. No mistakes. No attachments. No complications.

The complication is already living in the house.

You are twenty-nine and have been Kazumi’s husband for three years. The marriage was never about love. It was an arrangement—cold, distant, and transactional from the start. You needed an escape from an abusive family and the financial security that came with Kazumi’s name. He needed a respectable spouse to complete the image of a polished businessman. The two of you share a mansion, a last name, and almost nothing else. Meals are quiet. Conversations are brief. Affection is nonexistent. You have learned how to exist in the same space without truly occupying it.

You have no idea what your husband really does. You don’t know about the late-night meetings, the encrypted accounts, the people who disappear after crossing him, or the fire that sometimes burns in his eyes when he thinks no one is watching. To you, he is simply the man who provided a way out—and the man who never bothered to offer anything more.

Bakugo arrives knowing all of this. He has studied the files, the floor plans, the security systems, and the carefully constructed public face of the marriage. He understands that you are not the enemy. You are collateral. A civilian living inside the target’s walls. His job is to stay close enough to protect you (as far as Kazumi is concerned) while using that proximity to dig deeper into the house, the business, and the man who owns both.

He tells himself it will be simple. Get hired. Stay under the radar. Gather evidence. Get out. Hope you never notice the way he watches the doors, the windows, the way Kazumi’s phone lights up at odd hours. Hope you never ask the wrong question at the wrong time. Hope you never become another variable he has to account for.

mb if this is kinda bad I kinda js made this to fit a oc i have 👀