rosy-hollow

[rosy-hollow]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ: To Leave or Not to Leave

ᴀ/ɴ: this one lowk mad me sad... but happy birthday to katsuki!! full series masterlist here!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, death, blood, gore, - it's REALLY graphic today, angst, the hunger games

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

It’s near impossible to tell time down in the tunnels, but when you both finally resurface, it’s late in the evening.

You discovered that the tunnels run all across the arena—and given that neither of you ran into any other tributes, you two are likely the only ones who’ve found them so far.

Though you’re wary of returning, Bakugou insists on going back to retrieve your things from the original camp, and eventually, you cave.

You almost died for that gear—you’d be an idiot to let it go so easily.

It doesn’t take long to find. You locate the bush you hid your pack under and sling it over your shoulders. Bakugou does the same with his.

“We should set up camp in the tunnels,” you say, and he huffs in acknowledgment.

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach - but you don’t say anything. He hasn’t said much to you since last night; did you strike a nerve when you asked about Toga?

Whatever it is, he’s being really immature about it.

The walk back to the tunnels is quiet, save for the crunch of leaves under your boots and the occasional distant creature call.

You steel yourself—you said you wouldn’t get attached. Why does it matter if he does the same?

You spot the fake bush. Your ally moves it aside, disappearing down the tunnel, and you glance around once more before following him.

When your boots hit the packed dirt, you hear Bakugou sigh as he sits down and rests his head against the wall.

You set your pack down.

“You’re acting weird.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“Like, you’re being extra broody. More than usual.”

He scowls. “I’m not fuckin’ broody.”

You raise an eyebrow to prove your point.

He just rolls his eyes and flips you off.

You feign offense, but your heart lightens a little.

At least he doesn’t hate you.

Your stomach grumbles. You grab a container of dried meat, divide it, and hand him his share before taking a bite.

It’s oversalted, and you make a face, but you still swallow. A gulp of water helps it go down—and that’s when you realize how low your supply is.

You groan, remembering your mentor’s words.

“First thing you do when you get in the arena is look for water. It’s easier to die from thirst than starvation.”

You remember Aizawa’s piercing eyes - or, eye - boring into you as he said it. His voice was monotone but unwavering.

Your mentor was strange in the way he  didn’t bask in the glory of surviving the Hunger Games, nor did he turn to drugs to forget. Instead, he became a teacher.

You didn’t know himself before the games, but be was fond of your brother—which didn’t help much. You still panicked on the first day in the arena, ran into the woods, and ended up allied with the loud-mouthed blond from District 2.

You remember Aizawa’s eye patch, the scars across his face. You only had a few cuts. The thought of being cut open like that makes your stomach twist.

Bakugou’s voice echoes through the tunnel.

“I’m gonna get us more water.”

You blink. “What? No - your arm’s still injured.”

He clicks his tongue. “What, you think I’m weak? I’m the one who saved your ass back at the Career camp. Don’t fuckin’ lecture me.”

His tone makes you frown. Why was he getting so pissed?

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just- ”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant. Just stay put and out of my damn way,” he spits, climbing out of the tunnel.

You don’t miss how he winces when his injured arm flexes.

Internally, you curse yourself. Of course the guy from District 2 has the biggest ego—you should’ve known.

And yet, somehow - he’s different.

Different in the way he’s quiet but loud, in how he reads you so well but keeps himself locked up like a vault. Different in the way he held you tightly to keep you safe. Different in how he saw something else when he looked at you - something you didn’t see in the mirror.

You groan.

You’re about to do something stupid.

And reckless.

And ill-advised.

But you’re going to do it anyway.

Maybe it’s residual anger, or pettiness, or just the need to do something instead of rotting away in a tunnel.

Which is why you’re going to raid the Career camp again.

They probably have water. You’re low on medical supplies, and Bakugou’s arm won’t heal on pride alone.

You only take your dagger with you, climbing out and covering the entrance again.

It’s eerily quiet. Maybe it was like this before, but without Bakugou, you feel stupidly exposed. Alone. Easy prey.

But somehow, you make it back. Through the trees, to the tents.

You’re heart pounds, the camp looks empty.

A hand lands on your shoulder.

“Aw~! Came back for a visit?”

Fuck.

Toga.

You whip out your dagger, but she disarms you easily, backing you into the clearing.

The District 1 boy and District 4 girl must be out hunting.

It’s just you two.

Shit.

Why did you have to be so stupid?

You lunge. She pulls out a knife, slashing your leg.

Black spots dance across your vision as you fall back, crying out.

Toga looms over you, smiling so sweetly it’s sickening.

She traces your jaw with the blade, her eyes gleaming.

“Hmmm… you’re pretty. And strong. I see why Katsuki likes you,” she says, and you freeze.

Huh?

“Too bad I have to kill you,” she pouts, raising the knife.

Shit!

You roll. The blade misses your chest but lodges in your arm.

You scream as something - someone - yanks her back.

Bakugou.

Rage burns in his eyes as he throws her aside and lifts you into his arms, disappearing into the trees.

Neither of you speaks.

It takes 15 minutes to get back, but it feels like 15 years.

He carries you into the tunnel, grabs your first aid kit, and sets you down.

You look away from the knife in your arm, trying not to vomit.

His fingers curl around the hilt. You scream as he yanks it free with no warning, pain exploding through you as he cleans the wound.

Tears spill down your cheeks, but you endure.

Like always.

You’re barely conscious by the time he finishes the bandaging—shockingly efficient, but not gentle. Not at all.

He moves to your leg.

More pain. More disinfecting. More bandages.

When he’s done, the silence is suffocating.

You’re the one who breaks it.

“Look, I’m sor—”

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he snaps, fury simmering under every word. “You could’ve fucking died. What the fuck were you thinking? Were you even thinking?!”

“I get it, okay?! I fucked up—but I’m alive, aren’t I?! So who fucking cares?!”

“I do.” His voice is quiet, but it echoes through the tunnel. “I fucking do, you dumbass. Whether you like it or not, we need each other to survive these shitty games. What would’ve happened if I wasn’t there, huh? If I didn’t come and save your sorry ass—you’d be dead.”

You’re quiet. “You said it yourself. Someone else killing me would just do you a favor. Just another check off your list, right?”

His expression is unreadable as you shove the first aid kit into his hands, grab your pack, and climb out of the tunnel.

You’re done.

taglist: @attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoopyluvrpao @kiromiix @delshmel @nijoll @babypeapoddd @mirajanestrauss1999 @kianatrg @blankk3 @witch-craft-works @midnight-drives-with-sunarin  @samxbaker @xanneeeyyyy @tom-hollands-blog @jazoewazoe @sixxe @poot2234 @beabamboo @yiz5uo @ilikeyyouverymuch @hauntedodette @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @rosekeu @grimm3r @m4y4wasnthere @eyes4bkg @ghostsoapwhore @sunootzrose @ilovemushroomss @risu-li

[rosy-hollow]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: Ground Breaker

ᴀ/ɴ: if you saw this yesterday no you didn't... full series masterlist here!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, death, blood, gore, the hunger games

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

Bakugou never actually wakes you up to take your shift. He lets you sleep through the night while he stays up.

You’re not happy about this.

And you tell him.

The moment you wake up, bleary eyes squinting at the rosy rays of sunlight that peek through the treetops, you freeze—betrayal flashing through you.

“You let me sleep?!”

The blond doesn’t even bother denying it. Just looks at you, eyes raking over your disheveled state before grunting under his breath.

“Go scout the area. Make sure no one’s around. I’m going hunting.”

His voice is clipped. No profanity, no insults. It makes you feel strange inside, your stomach twisting in uncertainty.

You scowl, fully prepared to chew him out, but he’s already gone before you can say a word.

Stupid Bakugou and his stupid broody hero complex.

You don’t know what goes through that thick head of his. He’s as much of an enigma to you as you are an open book to him.

And that pisses you off.

Especially because his question from last night won’t leave you alone.

“Why the fuck didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

It unsettles you for two reasons.

One—you could kill someone. That fact alone is enough to rattle you to your core.

Growing up in District 11, you obviously learned to fight. There wasn’t much of a choice. Muscles earned from days under the blistering sun, working from dawn till dusk just to get a scrap of food on the table.

You endured—because that’s all you could do.

But does enduring mean taking life from someone else?

Could you really watch the light fade from someone’s eyes, just so yours can keep shining?

The very thought makes you want to vomit your internal organs and crawl out of your skin.

But the other part of Bakugou’s question digs deeper:

Why didn’t you kill him?

You can’t be going soft. Not in the arena. That’s basically a death sentence.

And yet—you’ve already saved him once. Shared food. Shared stories. Shared silence.

You haven’t even known him two full days.

You scold yourself. You can’t afford to forget where you are. What it means.

Your jaw tightens.

This is just an alliance. A temporary truce.

 Nothing more.

You sigh, eyes scanning the empty camp, remembering what Bakugou told you.

As much as it annoys you to follow orders like some stupid puppy—he’s right. Scouting’s your best bet right now.

Especially since the trees are close enough together that you can stay mostly above ground.

You sigh again, finding a thick bush to stash your backpack—just in case someone raids the camp—and grab your dagger before scaling the nearest tree.

Climbing feels… grounding. Familiar. A small scrap of comfort in a world that offers none.

Because right now, this place?

This place isn’t home.

This is the Hunger Games.

And somehow, the fact that you’re actually in them still hasn’t fully hit you. It’s surreal. You’re physically here, but mentally? You don’t know where the hell you are anymore.

A strange bush catches your eye - off to the side, just barely in your periphery.

You pause. Glance around. No movement.

Slipping down from the branches, you approach the odd plant.

It’s clearly fake. The leaves are too green. Too sharp. Too symmetrical.

You frown. Why the hell would the Gamemakers put a fake bush in the arena?

You swallow thickly.

You’re about to do something really stupid.

You kick it.

The plant topples over easily. No roots. No resistance.

What does catch your attention, though - is the tunnel underneath.

Big enough to fit a person.

You stare, heart hammering. It’s man-made. Deliberate.

But how deep is it? Where does it go?

You don’t know. You don’t like not knowing.

You cover the tunnel back up with the bush, hands shaking slightly.

Kicking it was stupid. It could’ve cost you your life.

You bolt back to camp.

Like a coward.

Bakugou’s already there when you return, one eyebrow raised at your out-of-breath state.

“The fuck happened to you?”

“I—”

SCREECH.

You both freeze.

Eyes wide. Breaths held.

Then you run.

No hesitation. No time to grab your things.

Just run.

Mutts.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribcage as the sounds get closer—snarling, screeching, tearing through the forest behind you.

Your lungs burn. Your legs scream. Your eyes sting.

Shit, shit, shit.

You’re going to die.

Fuck.

Wait.

You see it.

That fake bush—once odd, now salvation.

You grab Bakugou’s wrist and yank him toward it, kicking aside the foliage and diving into the tunnel. He follows without question, too focused on surviving to ask how you knew it was there.

The blond yanks the bush back over the hole just in time.

Screeches echo through the forest above.

You don’t let go of his wrist.

And he doesn’t let go of you.

.

.

.

Time passes.

Could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours.

The mutts grow distant. The silence returns.

You both collapse—shoulders heaving, lungs starved of air.

Only now do you really look around.

The tunnel is solid. Packed dirt, expertly carved, walls reinforced like it was meant to last. A row of torches line one side, burning low and steady.

It stretches into the dark. No end in sight.

You lock eyes with Bakugou again.

These Games?

Just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

taglist: @attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoopyluvrpao @kiromiix @delshmel @nijoll @babypeapoddd @mirajanestrauss1999 @kianatrg @blankk3 @witch-craft-works @midnight-drives-with-sunarin  @samxbaker @xanneeeyyyy @tom-hollands-blog @jazoewazoe @sixxe @poot2234 @beabamboo @yiz5uo @ilikeyyouverymuch @hauntedodette @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @rosekeu @grimm3r @m4y4wasnthere @eyes4bkg @ghostsoapwhore @sunootzrose @ilovemushroomss

[rosy-hollow]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: Career Day

ᴀ/ɴ: lowk didn't know if this chapter was going to be long enough and then ended up going over what i planned :O full series masterlist here!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, death, blood, gore, the hunger games

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

You’ve been walking for what feels like years.

You tell your District 2 ally this, and he just scoffs, saying “It’s been 30 minutes, dumbass.”

The blonde never told you where you were going and when you asked, he just ignored you. He just started walking the moment the sun came up. His red eyes darted in various directions suggesting he was looking for something, but what?

It unsettles you, and yet- some strange consciousness in the back of your mind says to trust him.

It’s not like you had a better idea anyways.

Your dagger, the wooden one, pricks your skin, splinters painfully digging into your palm - but you can’t bring yourself to care.

New ally or not, death is guaranteed unless you win.

And you didn’t feel like dying yet.

Suddenly, Bakugou stops - forcefully grabbing your wrist and holding your body close to his as he ducks behind a tree, red eyes sweeping over the clearing the both of you were about to enter.

You realize why Bakugou brought you here.

The Career Camp.

You freeze, the only thing grounding you is the feeling of Bakugou’s heartbeat against your back.

His grip on you tightens, waiting for a moment before releasing you.

“No one’s here. We need to be quick. Grab what you can.” he murmurs, and you nod, following him quickly through the clearing and picking the tent closest to you- a green one- and darting inside.

You find a steel dagger, much nicer than the one you made, grabbing it as you spot a first aid kit in the corner.

You grab that too.

When you leave, you have a backpack (also stolen) full of supplies, random weapons, first aid, food - enough to last you and Bakugou a few days.

You’re about to call out to your ally when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“So nice of you to drop in, Katsuki.”

The voice is bubbly, and feminine, yet you can sense the underlying loathing in her tone. Her use of his first name makes you pause though - were they close?

Bakugou stays silent, and another voice pops up. 

“You know, we thought you were dead.” a boy this time, speaks up. “Left to the mercy of the forest.”

The girl from before sighs, and you hear footsteps - was she pacing?

“If only we were that lucky..” she says, with condescending - and it makes you pause.

What happened between Bakugoui and the Careers?

Taking a breath, you grip onto your new dagger, peeking out from the folds of the tent.

You counted 4 Careers - two male, two female. You remember the girl from District 1 died in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, along with 12 others - but the remaining odds were still dangerous.

Even with Bakugou on your side, there was no way you could get out of this fight unscathed.

The blond is on the ground with a nasty cut on his arm - shit how did you not hear that? - the boy from earlier that you recognize to be from District 4 pinning him down. 

Your heart thuds. Regardless of how eager you were to become allies with him, you both had come into an agreement.

Even if not explicitly stated, you basically agreed to protect him.

Which is why when you sprint out of the tent, you toss your dagger to Katsuki, who picks up and drives it into the neck of the boy above him.

The latter screams out in agony, blood painting his skin red, eyes rolling back as he weakly claws at his throat before going limp, dead.

Before you can dwell too hard on what he’s done, you race to Bakugou’s side just in time to see the remaining three Careers look at you in outrage.

The girl from District 4 is irate, breathing heavily as she points her trident in your direction. 

“You bitch!” she screeches, lunging towards you, mere seconds away from being impaled as you roll over, crouching down low as she stumbles, off balance.

The other girl, Bakugou’s district partner from 2 - Himiko Toga, the name flashing in your mind - just laughs.

“This is your new partner Katsuki? A weak little thing from 11?” she asks, the lack of malice in her tone contradicting the bloodlust in her feline eyes.

Bakugou simply groans, yanking your dagger out of the fallen Career’s neck, deflecting a strike from the District 1 boy just in time.

The District 4 girl breathes heavily, a maniacal scream ripping from her lungs as she pounces again, but this time you’re ready.

Stepstepping her swiftly, you reach for Bakugou’s machete, discarded after the initial skirmish, raising your arms and driving the butt of it into the back of her head, the girl collapsing, unconscious. You pant heavily, turning your head as Bakugou kicks the boy from District 1 off of him, the two of you sprinting into the undergrowth - Toga’s unnerving yellow eyes tracking your retreating forms.

You two run for what feels like miles, lungs burning and your fingers clutching Bakugou’s wrist so hard they turn white.

You want to keep running, but he stops you, holding you close to him until your breathing evens out.

When you finally calm down, he looks around silently, making sure no one’s around before he sits, resting his head against the bark of a tree and closing his eyes, leaving you to stand there awkwardly.

Opening the backpack you stole, you take out the first aid kit quietly, extracting the contents you needed before putting it back, making your way over to your ally’s side. 

Kneeling down, you gingerly start to disinfect the wound - the blond hissing out in pain, red eyes snapping open and over to you. 

“What the fuck do yo-”

“Shut up and stop moving.” You say sharply, cutting him off as you continue to tend to his wounds.

When you finish cleaning, you wrap the gauze around his bicep and slowly make your way down to his forearm with practiced, gentle hands; Bakugou’s piercing gaze following your every move.

When you finish, and sit back, your eyes raking over his figure one last time before standing up, putting the rest of the gauze and disinfectant in your backpack once more.

Rummaging around in your pack, you find a sandwich - how the hell did the Careers manage to get this? You take it out, handing a half over to Katsuki before taking a bite out of your own.

You don’t mention what happened at the Career campsite, and neither does he, silently making your way through the meal.

You’re grateful for that.

You’re almost done with your half of the sandwich when his voice fills the silence.

“When did you learn how to do that?” 

“Huh? Do what?”

“All of that. The climbing, and the fighting, and the shit with the bandages-”

You raise an eyebrow. “I believe we had the same access to trainers before the Games, Bakugou.”

The blond lets out a tch, rolling his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, dumbass. I meant-”

“If you’ve always been able to to that shit, why the fuck didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

That makes you pause.

He had a point.

Why didn’t you?

You stay silent for a moment, watching the sunlight peek through the tops of the trees above. With how thick the foliage was, it was almost impossible to tell what time of day it was.

You breathe out slowly. “In a way, life in District 11 is just like it is here. Survival of the fittest and all.”

Bakugou stares at you, his silence a green light to continue.

“The ones that weren’t strong enough the moment they were old enough to work in the fields… immediately became a scion to the rest.” you bite your lip, thinking. “Most of my friends refused to be seen around me the moment my little brother was born without a leg.”

Your ally’s eyes widened just a fraction - he was listening, you realized. Not just listening, he understood.  The thought made you feel less alone.

“My mom was bedridden after giving birth, so it was up to me and my dad to work for the four of us. You’d think that being the agricultural district, we get the most food, but we’re not allowed to eat any of it. And most of the extras that are for us go to the Peacekeepers.” you shrug. “I had to do what I needed to survive.”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow and you pause, realizing what you just implied. “I didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you were thinking.” you say hurriedly. “I just learned how to fight. It was that, or starve.”

Your fingers play with the hem of your shirt by your neck, before tugging it down slightly to reveal a jagged scar just under your collarbone.

“Damn.”

“Yep.”

And that was that.

The two of you decide to spend the rest of the day hunting and gathering - despite your bounty that you stole from the Careers, it wasn’t going to last forever.

When nightfall finally arrives, Bakugou comes back with two juicy bunnies, and you as many berries as you could fit in your pockets. 

Bakugou puts together a small campfire, skinning the meat and cleaning it - you decide to wash the berries because witnessing Bakugou’s butcher shop made you a little more squeamish than you would’ve liked, which is ironic considering you’re in a death arena.

When you finish, he’s roasting the meat over the fire, jabbing a stick through them and handing one to you, waiting for them to cool down.

Bakugou eats with his left hand - his right too injured to move at this point, and as devastating as that was, it was admittedly funny to see him struggle to eat his rabbit leg.

You on the other hand enjoy your food normally, the berries a little too ripe and the meat too bland, but regardless - a meal was a meal.

Bakugou had no such mentality.

One bite out of the rabbit leg and he frowns staring at it, disgruntled.

“Needs more seasoning,”

“What?”

“I said, it needs more seasoning.”

You roll your eyes. “Well maybe next time, let’s tell the Gamemakers to put some cayenne and paprika in the Cornucopia, yeah?” you mutter - trying to be funny, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight of your words.

There wouldn’t be a next time.

Especially since one of you wouldn’t be leaving this arena alive.

You both eat in silence again - you feel a little bad for ruining the relatively peaceful quiet the two of you had made, but you decide you don’t care. A dose of reality was just a warning to not get too comfortable.

When you two finish, Bakugou stands up.

“You sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

“Are you crazy? Your arm is messed up.”

Bakugou glares at you with the force of a thousand suns, telling you that he wasn’t in the mood for taking no as an answer.

Though, that’s probably true in most cases.

You grab the sleeping bag - one Bakugou stole from the Careers - and get comfortable.

Why did you care whether or not he got any sleep anyway?

For all you know, he could kill you right now.

You still at the thought, your mind refusing to relax now that paranoia seeps through every crevice, threatening to engulf you whole.

“Hey. Stop thinking so much, dumbass. No point in me taking first watch if you don’t get some damn shut-eye.” Bakugou’s voice startles you from your stream of thoughts

You freeze at his words - how could he read you so well?

Instead of acknowledging that, you ask something else.

“Are you- or were you and Toga close?” you whisper, staring up at the dark sky.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything for a minute.

“None of your damn business. Now sleep, idiot.” 

You sigh, turning onto your side, your eyelids growing heavy.

You fall asleep to the sound of cicadas, Bakugou’s breathing and a question still swimming in your mind.

Why did Bakugou choose you- out of everyone, to be his ally?

taglist: @attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoopyluvrpao @kiromiix @delshmel @nijoll @babypeapoddd @mirajanestrauss1999 @kianatrg @blankk3 @witch-craft-works @midnight-drives-with-sunarin  @samxbaker @xanneeeyyyy @tom-hollands-blog @jazoewazoe @sixxe @poot2234 @beabamboo @yiz5uo @ilikeyyouverymuch @hauntedodette @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @rosekeu @grimm3r @m4y4wasnthere

[rosy-hollow]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: Ambush

ᴀ/ɴ: yippee chapter one!! this is basically where most of my snippets I've released are from but enjoy!! full series masterlist here!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, mentions of death

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

It’s dark. You’re alone.

That was your first mistake.

The second?

Not making camp while there was still light.

Oh, you're so fucked.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, hammering in your ears, drowning out the eerie silence that surrounds you. Before the Games, you would have enjoyed the quiet—taken it as a moment of repose.

But now? Silence is dangerous.

As is everything else in the arena.

Silence means waiting. Either you’re waiting for something, or something is waiting for you. Neither bodes well.

Whoosh.

Your heart stops.

Your breath turns shallow, erratic. Fingers tighten around your sorry excuse for a weapon—a wooden dagger you carved from a stick.

A blur whips across your vision.

You pounce.

Your breathing quickens, shallow and erratic as you grip your dagger. A blur whips across your vision, and you pounce on instinct, fear coursing through your veins alongside copious (and probably unhealthy) amounts of adrenaline, every nerve on fire.

In the scuffle, your vision goes blurry for a moment, but you waste no time restraining whatever had ambushed you underneath your body weight, acting despite being disoriented.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your grip your dagger, ready to fight for your life, only to see- Two piercing red eyes staring back at you, widened a fraction and pupils dilated.

Two piercing red eyes stare back at you.

Your own eyes widen in a flurry of emotions and thoughts as a name is conjured by recognition.

Bakugou Katsuki. District 2.

A Career.

You freeze.

Your breathing—once ragged—goes still.

You grip the dagger so hard your knuckles turn white, feeling the sting of blood dripping from your palm. But you don’t care. You can’t care.

One wrong move, and you're dead.

“The fuck—get the hell off of—mmph!”

You cut off the disgruntled blond with a panicked hand over his mouth.

“Are you crazy?! Do you want to get killed?” you hiss, gripping your dagger tight enough for your fingers to ache. Your eyes lock onto his, filled with as much murderous intent as you can muster.

But could you really kill him?

Even now, with your heart hammering so wildly it drowns out your thoughts, the reality of kill or be killed refuses to settle in. The one thing you do know?

This tribute is dangerous.

The boy from District 2 —Bakugou Katsuki— goes still, sensing your hesitation.

Then, in a blink, you’re flung backwards.

Your back slams into a tree, bark scraping against your skin, the impact rattling your bones. You bite your tongue to stifle the cry threatening to spill.

You can’t afford to make a sound - fighting off one Career was already a death wish. If you alerted any others? 

You’d be dead before you could think.

Bakugou rises with ease, dusting himself off like your ambush was nothing more than an inconvenience. You, on the other hand, are frozen—paralyzed by both pain and the suffocating weight of fear.

He steps closer, eyes flickering over your body with amusement.

This was too easy.

But then—he stops.

He squats down, leveling himself with you, red eyes sharp with something unreadable. His grin spreads wide—feral, canines flashing.

You let out a shuddering breath, clenching your dagger like a lifeline.

Because right now?

It is one.

Bakugou snorts, utterly amused that you think you stand a chance.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His voice is low, almost mocking. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your stomach twists at the nickname, filled with condescending. You just glare at him, venom in your stare. 

“I could kill you if I wanted to.” you say coldly, your voice thankfully steady and level.

The boy just blinks momentarily, amusement flickering in his eyes.

He leans back, resting his hands on his bent knees as he sits, snorting.

“Yeah? Bet you could, except…” he smirks dangerously “you’re scared.”

You flinch, unsettled by how easily he reads you. He didn’t seem as deadly as before, but your grip still tightens on your dagger.

“What do you want?” you ask, your tone low and flat.

This only makes the Career pause, standing up briskly and turning away from you. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I want to win.” he says finally, and you body stills for a moment, wondering what the implications meant fo you.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, sensing your lapse of terror and scoffs. 

“Don’t lose your shit, I’m not gonna kill you.” he grabs his machete from the bushes - shit how long has that been there for?

“I’ll leave that to someone else. For now, I want to strike a deal.” he says, unbothered red eyes raking over your form.

“In exchange for me protecting you - you get us food.”

You frown. “Like a housewife?!”

Katsuki lets out a small tch, walking back over to you and sticking out his hand for you to take. “Like a ‘I do all the killing’, and ‘you make sure we don’t get poisoned or starve along the way’.” 

You stare at his outstretched hand, and after a moment of debating with yourself, you take it. Because, fuck it - you’re going to die anyways.

The blonde helps you up, and is ready to leave your sorry excuse for a ‘campsite’ - but he stops when he hears your hushed whisper.

“Wait! Let me just grab my backpack. I won’t take too long.” you say, and Bakugou raises an eyebrow, clearly not wanting to stay here any longer, but stays silent.

What he doesn’t expect you to do is scale up a nearby tree like a damn squirrel - your limbs moving with some practiced ease it was almost unnatural.

Quietly, you make your way back down, jumping down onto the soft grass silently with such stealthy precision that Bakugou has to look away at the last second so you didn’t realize he was staring.

You look up at him, his expression unreadable as you stand up, trailing behind him quietly as he starts to weave his way through the underbrush.

You flex your fingers, feeling the sore muscles strain as you do, the only sound you hear behind the soft crunch of your boots against the grass and your own breaths.

When you entered these games, the odds were never in your favor.

You’ve known that since you were twelve.

Now, you’re not sure.

Were you going to win? Fuck no.

But now, at least you knew you weren’t going to go down without a fight.

taglist: @attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoo@attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoopyluvrpao @kiromiix @delshmel @nijoll @babypeapoddd @mirajanestrauss1999 @kianatrg @blankk3 @witch-craft-works @midnight-drives-with-sunarin  @samxbaker @xanneeeyyyy @tom-hollands-blog @jazoewazoe @sixxe @poot2234 @beabamboo @yiz5uo @ilikeyyouverymuch @hauntedodette @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @rosekeu @grimm3r @m4y4wasnthere

[rosy-hollow]

for all the people who've suffered an emotionally abusive father :)

“I’ve told you multiple times, I don’t always have the time to coddle you. Don’t you understand? I get home from a tiring mission and you’re being like this—”

You try to tune it out. You try, you really do. But it’s hard not to feel a little bit of anger — no, hurt — at how insensitive your husband, Satoru, is being. You had waited all day for him to come home. Today was your goddamn fifth wedding anniversary. You had decorated the living room with fairy lights, made his favorite dinner, even wore the soft blue sweater he liked — the one he once said made you look like “something out of a dream.”

And yet, the moment he stepped through the door, it was like none of that mattered. His shoulders were tense, his hair still damp from a rushed shower, the scent of lingering sorcery clinging to him like smoke. You had wrapped your arms around him, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, whispered a “Happy anniversary, love” against his skin.

But he had just gently pushed you off.

Not harshly, no. Satoru was never cruel. But it was enough to make you freeze. Enough to stir that little ache in your chest you’d worked so hard to quiet over the years. Enough that it led to all this.

“I never asked you to coddle me, I was just—”

“Well, I was obviously indicating you give me some space. I don’t always have to kiss you and touch you. I get so tired sometimes and—”

“I know,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I get that you do. I just thought… I thought maybe today, of all days…”

Your voice cracks. You hate that it does.

Satoru exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair in frustration before suddenly—falling silent.

Just like that.

Not another word. He turns his back, walks into the bedroom without so much as glancing at you again.

And it’s that silence that cuts deeper than anything else.

Because suddenly, you're not standing in your shared apartment with your husband. You're eighteen years old again, sitting on the bed in your room with a weird sense of despair coiling in your stomach, watching your father turn away after another minor argument he claimed wasn't worth his breath. Sitting there, trying to figure out what is wrong with you. You remember how he would go days– no, weeks, even months– without speaking to you, how you’d tiptoe around the house trying to be good, better, perfect — all so he’d finally look at you again.

It’s not the same, you know it isn’t.

But your chest tightens all the same. The air feels thick. Wrong.

And just like that, the old panic sets in. The kind that gnaws at your ribs and wraps around your lungs like a vice. You swallow hard, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. You’re back in a place you swore you'd never return to—feeling like a burden, like your love was too loud, too much. Like your father all over again, who’d shut down and ignore you for ages if you ever stepped even slightly out of line. You blink away the sudden sting in your eyes and sit on the edge of the couch, your fingers twisting in the hem of your sweater. You try to breathe, to rationalize, but the panic builds quickly, threatening to tip into something messy and raw.

And then suddenly—he’s there.

“Wait, what’s wrong? Baby—hey, talk to me,” he says quickly, eyes scanning your face. “Did I…? Shit. I messed up. I know I did. I’m so sorry.”

You look up at him, startled by the urgency in his voice. His blindfold is off now, and his cerulean eyes are wide, frantic. He drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You shake your head, tears clinging to your lashes. “No, I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to cling or make it harder on you. I know you’re tired from missions, and I should’ve just… I could’ve wrapped everything up. We didn’t have to celebrate. I just thought maybe even a few minutes would’ve been nice.”

“No, no, no, don’t say that,” he whispers immediately, voice cracking. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t ever apologize for loving me. Please.”

You try to look away, but he gently cups your face, thumbing away the tears on your cheeks.

“It’s just… when you went quiet,” you murmur, “it brought me back to a place I hate. My dad used to do that. Walk away. Shut me out. Make me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t deserve even a word.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, this time softer. “I didn’t realize—I just thought you were being clingy, and I was tired, and I snapped, but that’s not an excuse. You didn’t do anything wrong. God, I just realised it’s our anniversary and I…”

You don’t realize you’re crying until he cups your face gently and wipes a tear away with his thumb.

His expression crumples, heartbreak swimming in his eyes. “God, baby, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to—fuck, I never want to make you feel like that. Ever.”

“I know,” you whisper. “You’re not him. But sometimes, my heart forgets. I just wanted to celebrate with you,” you whisper, voice trembling. “And when you shut down like that, when you go quiet… It makes me feel like I’m back there again. Like I’m that girl who was never good enough, never worth talking to.”

His expression falls.

“Baby,” he breathes. “No. No, no, no. You’re worth everything. You’re worth so much more than I can ever put into words. I’m so sorry for making you feel like that. I swear to you, I’ll never walk away like that again. Not from you. Never from you.”

He pulls you into his arms tightly, like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers. You bury your face into his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin, letting the warmth of his embrace slowly thaw the ice that had begun to creep into your heart.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So much. I know I’m a pain in the ass sometimes, but I love you more than anything. Even more than sweets. Which is saying something. Like I’d ditch Kikufuku f’you—”

You laugh through your tears, and he grins like it’s the best sound he’s heard all day.

He pulls you into his chest again. “Never again,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, “I’ll never walk away like that again. Not even when I’m tired. Not when I’m angry. You are never too much. You are everything.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you more,” he replies instantly, nuzzling your temple. “More than anything. And I know I don’t say it right every time, but I feel it every second I’m breathing.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the silence finally feels safe again.

Eventually, he pulls back and flashes a small, sheepish smile.

“Come on,” he says, standing and lifting you up bridal-style, ignoring your surprised squeak. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll re-do the whole night, yeah? Lights, candles, that ridiculous playlist you made—”

“The one you said sounded like a 2005 prom?”

“Exactly. I hated it. Let’s play it right now.”

He sets you down gently on the bed, then kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips — soft and slow, like a promise.

“You’re everything to me,” he says against your mouth. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

This time, when he pulls you into his arms, there’s no tension in his shoulders. Just warmth. Just love.

And despite the rocky start, the night ends just how it was meant to: with candlelight dancing across the walls, soft music playing in the background, and Satoru Gojo curled up beside you, feeding you spoonfuls of lukewarm curry and whispering “I love you” between every bite.

Flawed, but perfect. Just like the two of you.

And the rest of the night passes in the glow of fairy lights and bad music, wrapped in the comfort of knowing that even in the moments where things falter — you always find your way back to each other.

yes this is entirely self indulgent and yes my father has been ignoring me for an exact month and yes this is a slight trauma dump but for anyone in a similar situation just know that you're never alone, and it will get better, i love you

[rosy-hollow]

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: When you're reaped into the annual Hunger Games as the female tribute from District 11, you know you're going to die - the moment you turned 12, you knew the odds were never going to be in your favor. Now, at age 16, you're prepared to meet your end, only to form a unexpected alliance with the most dangerous tribute of all, Bakugou Katsuki from District 2. Trusting him in risky, but honestly, screw it - you're going to die anyways. What's the worst that could happen?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: major character death, blood, gore, heavy cursing, HEAVY angst, mild fluff, violence, fighting, the hunger games deserves its own warning, i repeat, BLOOD AND DEATH!!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: Ambush

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: Career Day

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: Ground Breaker

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ: To Leave or Not to Leave

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ: Sparrow

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx: The Feast

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ: The Performance

A/N: guys this has been stewing in my mind for a while now... if you want to join the taglist, let me know!! and may the odds be ever in your favor ;) also just to clarify the art in the banner isn't mine!! i just edited it - found the actual pic on pinterest

taglist: @attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoopyluvrpao @kiromiix @delshmel @nijoll @babypeapoddd @mirajanestrauss1999 @kianatrg @blankk3 @witch-craft-works @midnight-drives-with-sunarin  @samxbaker @xanneeeyyyy @tom-hollands-blog @jazoewazoe @sixxe @poot2234 @beabamboo @yiz5uo @ilikeyyouverymuch @hauntedodette @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @rosekeu @grimm3r @m4y4wasnthere @eyes4bkg @ghostsoapwhore @sunootzrose @ilovemushroomss

[rosy-hollow]

On the outside, your boyfriend Katsuki might’ve seemed like he hated trying new things—and that might’ve been true, if it weren’t for you.

Especially today, considering it was your culture's New Year .

Back home, it had always been a big celebration. Your family would invite too many friends over than you could fit in your house, a small gathering turning full blown party. Women gathered in corners to gossip, men sprawled across sofas with plates piled high, and children racing through the halls with squeals and laughter.

Now, it was just you.

To be fair, that part of your culture wasn’t the center of your life anymore. Not since you moved to Japan. For the last few years, you could at least visit home. But this year, with your schedule packed and your workload overwhelming, traveling wasn’t even a remote possibility.

And so you sat alone on your couch, homesick in a way that crept up slow and heavy—grief for a moment that was still happening, just without you.

Today was supposed to be full of celebration. But instead, you were alone.

That is, until three sharp knocks pulled you out of your haze.

Dragging yourself to the door, you opened it—and blinked in surprise.

Katsuki?

Your boyfriend stood there, looking his usual amount of annoyed, but there was something softer in his eyes. He held out a large food container, his ears tinged red as he looked anywhere but at you.

“Happy New Year… or whatever, idiot,” he muttered. “Figured you’d be cryin’ on your ass eventually, so I made you somethin’.”

He brushed past you into your apartment like it wasn’t the most intimate thing anyone’s done for you in a long while.

You opened the lid. The smell hit first—familiar, spicy, home. It took you a second to even recognize the dish, one you hadn’t tasted since last year’s visit. And even longer to realize you were crying.

Katsuki didn’t say anything. He just stepped close and wiped your tears with both hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks before resting there, warm and steady.

“Oi. None of that shit,” he grumbled, soft and gruff. “I came here to celebrate with you, not make you cry.”

You laughed—just a little. A short breath of sound. But your chest felt lighter already.

You set the container down and leaned up to kiss him, a gentle press of gratitude and affection. He kissed you back like it was instinct, wrapping his arms around your waist, drawing you in close, his hands rubbing soft, grounding circles into your hips.

When you pulled back, his expression had softened completely. That usual scowl had melted into something tender.

“Thank you, Katsuki. Really, I mean it, I—” But he silenced you with a another searing kiss.

“No need to thank me,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “Figured I’d learn how t’make your food anyways… good opportunity.”

You laughed again, a little louder this time, heart swelling.

The rest of the night was spent curled together on the couch, sharing the food he brought, watching one of your favorite movies from back home—this time with Japanese subtitles.

For the first time in years, your apartment didn’t feel empty. It felt like home.

The smell of familiar spices filled the air. You danced with Katsuki in your living room to songs only you knew, his grumbles drowned out by your laughter.

It wasn’t a big party. There were no screaming kids, no gossipy relatives asking when you were getting married, no loud countdowns.

But you weren’t alone this time.

And that made all the difference.

A/N: in honor of tamil new year today!! happy new year to those who celebrate hehe

[rosy-hollow]

always happy to help out a fellow writer so how about geto x reader where they’re having a movie night with Mimiko and Nanako only for the girls to realizes their parents fell asleep together on the couch 🥰

a/n: hii omg my first ask in the longest time thank you! also i wrote the girls as kids i felt it’d be more of a heart puller 😭

geto, you and your daughters made it tradition for friday night’s to be the family’s special movie night. none of you guys missed it for the world. geto had work? he’d make sure by any means he’d get home by 8:30 at the latest because “his girls are expecting him.” 9 times out of 10, geto lets the girls pick the movie.

“did you girls make the popcorn?” geto asks from the couch. you’re sitting by him with your legs on his lap while he’s holding onto one of your thighs.

“yes yes it’s almost ready, hold your horses!” nanako giggles while putting butter on the popcorn. the girls rush to the couch while eating the popcorn.

“you guys know what you wanna watch?” you ask them while taking some bits of the overly salted popcorn, making a mental reminder to make the popcorn next week.

“no we want daddy to choose this time.” mimiko says while handing him the remote. geto looks at you and shrugs. “well if you insist.” geto jokes.

geto decides upon picking a movie he knows the girls and you would enjoy although he’s never really cared for it much. he watches as you laugh slightly at his choice and he gives you a kiss on the cheek just for being you.

“dad you picked one that we like!” nanako pouts while realizing his choice halfway through the movie, kind of upset because she really wanted to watch an adult movie.

she doesn’t hear a response which is odd because geto would never ignore her. she looks at her parents and sees her dad snoring slightly while you’re laid on his shoulder with your arms around his waist. he’s lazily gripping on your lower back trying to have more of your warmth on him. you both were knocked out in the most lovingly way.

nanako looks at her sister. mimiko looks back at her and then their parents. “they’re so boring, they didn’t even last througout the whole movie!” mimiko complains while whispering because although yall fell asleep, she’d never want to wake you up. “ugh i know!” nanako rolls her eyes while getting up to get you guys a blanket. she puts it over you and mimiko follows, both of them giving you guys a kiss on the cheek.

“you wanna watch that horror movie mom never lets us watch?” nanako asks. mimiko nods and puts the movie on while they cuddle up. friday nights would never get old for the suguru family.

[rosy-hollow]

Satoru had made it very clear early on: you would have to be the mean parent.

He physically couldn’t do it. He could barely say no to you—how in the world was he supposed to refuse his perfect child? Your perfect child, who not only looked like you but had him wrapped around their tiny finger before they were even born.

You made him weak.

And by consequence, anything that had to do with you made him weak too.

It was a given, really. The strongest sorcerer’s greatest weakness wasn’t some hidden technique or curse. No, it was simpler than that. It was his wife, and his son.

But you both were his strength, too.

Nights like this made him feel it the most. After enduring endless lectures about how his family was a liability, after surviving battlefields and bloodshed, all it took was seeing the two of you—curled up fast asleep on the couch—to remind him why none of that mattered.

Why he didn’t give a damn about what anyone else said.

When the world became too heavy, too overwhelming, to the point where even he couldn’t carry it anymore, all he needed was this: home. Where his universe shrank down to just you, your son, and him.

Just you three.

And that was enough.

Satoru had once prided himself on always pushing forward, never stopping, never needing to. But as he settled onto the couch beside you, the cushions dipping under his weight, his arms wrapped around your waist, and your three-year-old son snuggled between you both—he realized: maybe he wanted to stop.

Just for a little while.

Just to savor this small, precious world of his.

Three hearts beating in sync, steady and calm. A rhythm he never had before but now needed like he needed air to breathe.

He pressed a kiss to his son’s soft hair, then to you—your nose, then each eyelid, just as he always had. The ritual was comforting. Familiar.

And Satoru craved the familiar. In a world where tomorrow was never promised, familiar felt like a warm, weighted blanket on a winter’s night.

He held onto that warmth, letting it anchor him as he closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch, letting himself rest in the safety of your love.

The world could wait until tomorrow.

A/N: everyone needs some lovesick bittersweet fluffy gojo in their lives 😌

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @sundownsudd ⦂ hii may i request modern au with toji where reader and toji are in a relationship and is pretty much little megumi's mother. they both attend uni and toji sometimes brings megumi to school/classes when no one can care for him while he needs to attend classes. reader is in the student lounge area doing school work, and toji brings megumi to school since no one is available to babysit him and upon seeing reader, little megumi lights up and giggly woddles quickly over to reader to crawl into her lap to give her hugs and kisses

》 ✐ᝰ AWWW okay wait this prompt is so cute - i put a little spin on the prompt so it might be a little diff than what you expected but enjoy !! ｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

University is a strange place to spend your childhood.

You say this on behalf of your—step-son? Can you call him that? It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Megumi had, quite literally, grown up on campus, trailing after you and Toji, weaving in and out of lecture halls and study sessions like he belonged there.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as you had once feared. You and Toji had learned to navigate classes, assignments, and exams with a five-year-old in tow - and while not ideal, you made it work.

Neither of you could afford a babysitter - not that you trusted one to take care of Megumi in the first place - which meant he was always with you, sitting quietly through lectures, munching on snacks during study halls, or napping on Toji’s chest during lunch breaks.

Toji had always worried this life would be a burden on you.

It was the reason he never dated after Megumi’s birth mother— who in their right mind would willingly take on a broke college student and his kid? He wouldn't have chosen this life for himself if given the chance.

But you did.

And when you did, it was like an angel had been sent straight to him.

The pretty girl from his psych class last year. But you were more than pretty.

You were everything.

You were everything to Megumi, too—the last missing piece of their little family.

Which is why Toji was now desperately chasing a hyperactive five-year-old through the university halls.

The other students barely paid attention; by now, everyone knew Megumi. It was just another normal day.

“Mama!!”

His face brightened the moment he saw you, little legs working overtime as he barreled toward you. You barely had time to react before he threw himself into your arms, squeezing you tight.

You laughed, surprised, setting your laptop aside to hug him properly. A moment later, Toji appeared, looking completely done.

“Stupid brat needs to learn some patience,” he grumbled, out of breath.

You hummed in amusement, leaning up to kiss him briefly. “Aww, you love him.”

Toji rolled his eyes, while the ‘stupid brat’ in question busied himself playing with strands of your hair.

With a sigh, Toji ruffled Megumi’s dark locks before meeting your gaze. “I gotta go to physics—can you watch him?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Mhmm. You want tacos for dinner tonight?”

Toji’s answer was a simple nod, but Megumi perked up immediately. “Tacos!!” he echoed excitedly.

The former kissed your forehead before waving goodbye, while the latter snuggled against you, already starting to doze off.

You chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair, listening to the soft little snores that sounded just like his dad’s.

You loved this little family of yours so much.

And they loved you, too.

More than you’d ever know.

A/N: Sigh if only gege was hugged as a child - toji would've been a fire dad

[rosy-hollow]

[rosy-hollow]

╰┈➤ ᴠɪ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ᴍᴇʟ ᴍᴇᴅᴀʀᴅᴀ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ ᴋɪʀᴀᴍᴍᴀɴ » coming soon!

[rosy-hollow]

╰┈➤ ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀꜱ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ʟᴏᴋɪ ᴏᴅɪɴꜱᴏɴ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ɴᴀᴛᴀꜱʜᴀ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ » coming soon!

╰┈➤ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ » coming soon!

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ Hey! Can I request something else with Sukuna? Maybe collage au , where Sukuna is in college for engineering, but reader doesn’t go to university and instead focuses on being a freelance artist , but sometimes she sneaks into some of Sukuna’s courses with him? 》 ✐ᝰ YIPPEE MORE SUKUNA!! (sorry i cut out all the parenthesis for space purposes 😭) ｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

No one’s really sure when you started showing up to Sukuna’s engineering lectures.

As far as most people were concerned, you’d always been there—like you materialized out of thin air and effortlessly became part of the atmosphere.

But honestly, no one minded.

You arrived alongside your pink-haired boyfriend, and the two of you had an interesting dynamic. The two of you being highschool sweethearts, he had mellowed out over the years - most likely because of you. However, you working as a freelance artist gave you both endless time... and absolutely none at all.

While Sukuna was out at university, you’d spend hours sitting in your apartment, sketching on your tablet—a gift from him, of course. You loved it. But, no matter how much you adored your work, being alone in your apartment without quickly grew... depressing.

So, one day, wordlessly, Sukuna dragged you to one of his lectures. Without asking, he pulled out the chair beside him, muttering under his breath that you should “Behave.”

You shrugged, popped in one earbud, and settled in, drawing quietly next to him. Sukuna listened to the lecture and took notes diligently; you? You lost yourself in your art.

It didn’t take long for the professor to notice a new face in his class, though it took even longer for him to realize you were, in fact, not a student. It was when Sukuna casually asked a question about compression ratios that the professor caught sight of you humming softly, your stylus moving fluidly on your tablet.

The professor didn’t know what to do with you. But, honestly, you weren’t a distraction, so he decided it wasn’t a huge deal.

And that was how you became the honorary student in Sukuna’s Solid Mechanics class — despite not having the faintest idea what half of it meant.

It didn’t make you stupid, though.

“And so you see, as per this graph—”

Your hand shot up, and the professor paused, glancing over at you in mild surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to speak up.

“Yes?” he addressed you calmly.

You frowned a little, twirling your stylus between your fingers. “I think there’s a part of the graph missing in the key... the green squiggly bit? It’s kind of vague about what the graph’s actually trying to show... If I’m out of place, just let me know, but would something like this be better?”

You held up your tablet, showing your version of the graph—redrawn in a clearer, more digestible way.

The professor blinked, clearly taken aback as he read over the graph. He let out a short, impressed huff. “This is quite impressive—did you draw this yourself?”

You nodded sheepishly, and the professor’s expression softened, a genuine smile crossing his face. He tapped Sukuna’s notebook, already prepared to speak to him.

“You get this sent to me, yeah? And Sukuna—” He glanced over at your boyfriend, who was now watching you with that familiar pride in his eyes. “You found yourself a good one.”

Sukuna met your gaze, his lips curling into a small but proud smirk as he leaned in to kiss your temple.

“That’s m’girl.”

A/N: is it obvious i know next to nothing about engineering

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ OH OH, since you’re requests are open, can I request high school au with sukuna (established relationship) where he asks reader out to prom and what they’d do there? 》 ✐ᝰ UHM YES?? I LOVE YOU THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHEH

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

If you ranked Sukuna Ryomen on a list of the classiest men alive, he’d be dead last.

You knew that when you started dating him. Hell, you’d been together for two years now, so if his lack of finesse bothered you, you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.

Which is why you weren’t even surprised when, in the middle of some random conversation, he just told you that you’d be going to senior prom together—like it was already a given. No asking, no buildup, just a casual declaration.

Because in his mind?

It was a given.

It was just a stupid dance, anyway. No need to make a big deal out of it.

Right?

God, he was so wrong.

Now, standing outside your door, waiting to pick you up, Sukuna feels something entirely foreign settle in his chest.

Nerves.

It’s almost pathetic, how anxious he is. Not even during high-pressure games does his heart race like this. At least then, he’s in his element.

This? This is uncharted territory.

Loving someone—hell, even dating someone—always seemed like something that happened in theory. Something that happened to other people.

But he didn’t just love someone.

He was in love with you.

So utterly and completely in love that the very idea of being without you makes him feel like a dead man walking.

You, with your pretty face and knowing smiles. The way your laugh makes his heart do annoying things. Your witty comebacks, your sharp tongue.

You make him feel alive.

And ironically, the second the door swings open—his heart stops.

You are breathtaking.

To be fair, you always are, but—god.

"Holy shit."

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud until you giggle, stepping forward and shutting the door behind you.

Sukuna suddenly feels very grateful you insisted on matching outfits, because with the way you look right now—he’d be damned if you looked like anything but his.

Just the thought makes his feel strange - a good strange - inside.

You’re his.

And he’s yours.

“I… wow,” he mutters gruffly.

You hum, stepping closer, tilting your head in amusement. Teasing him.

“Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow,’ ‘Kuna?”

A large, warm palm finds the small of your back, pulling you in, his lips brushing over yours.

“Definitely good,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips against yours—the first of many tonight.

Some might call you a miracle worker for convincing Sukuna to actually drive to the venue. Because if he had it his way? You’d be heading straight back to his place, where he could have you all to himself.

It’s cute, honestly. The way he grips the steering wheel like it’s the only thing stopping him from devouring you whole. Like if he so much as looks at you for too long, he’ll lose whatever shred of self-control he has left.

You, on the other hand, have no such limitations, happily being the passenger royalty you are.

So you drink him in—the way the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp features, how insanely handsome he looks in his suit.

You were just as whipped as he was.

Just... better at hiding it.

When you arrive, the entrance is already packed with familiar faces, student IDs in hand, waiting to be let in.

Sukuna steps out first, then, to your delight, makes his way around the car to open your door for you.

You giggle at his rare act of chivalry, taking his outstretched hand.

Inside, the venue is stunning—twinkling lights, lavish décor. You definitely have to congratulate your friend on the prom committee for a job well done.

Sukuna, however, could not give less of a shit.

Because while you’re admiring the decorations, he’s admiring you.

The soft, awed expression on your face is worth more than any stupid floral arrangement.

When you glance back at him, his eyes are warm—softer than they ever are in public.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, and he happily obliges, though it takes everything in him not to pull you flush against him and forget the whole damn dance.

When you pull away though, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye.

Oh no.

“‘Kuna~?” you draw out, sing-song.

He groans. He’s screwed.

“Will you dance with me?”

Sukuna just stares at you blankly.

“Fuck no.”

“Pleeeeease?”

Oh, fuck you and your stupid puppy eyes and your perfect face and your perfect everything—he can’t say no to you.

And that’s how he finds himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, awkwardly shuffling while you happily bop along to the music, grinning like this is the best night of your life.

It goes on like this for a while—your poor, hulking boyfriend completely out of his element, staying only because he loves you.

Then—suddenly—the music shifts.

The bass-heavy beats fade, replaced with something slower, softer.

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly as yours light up.

You step toward him, all soft smiles and adoration.

You bow teasingly. “May I have this dance?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. But there’s no real bite. “Ain’t I the one who’s supposed'ta ask ya that?”

You hum as he tugs you closer, his arms encircling your waist, your own draping around his neck. “Maybe… but I like to keep you on your toes.”

He lets out a rare, genuine laugh before kissing you again—deep, slow, tender.

He rests his forehead against yours, voice lower now, softer.

“That you do.”

Your eyes shine, drinking in the way he looks at you.

“And unfortunately for you,” you tease gently, “I always will.”

Sukuna snorts.

“You’re a little shit.”

But you both know he doesn’t mean it.

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHH (that's it, that's all I have to say)

[rosy-hollow]

───〃★ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃...

▹ 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 ┊ᴋ. ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ⭑ ╰┈➤ Your brother asked you to watch over his adopted sons for the night while he attended an important meeting. However, he forgot that he had asked you in the first place, and in the midst of all the confusion, you're now tasked with babysitting your two nephews alongside your brother's friend, Nanami Kento.

▹ 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 ┊ᴛ. ɪɴᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꩜ ╰┈➤ You and your family decide to go camping for the week. However, you discover that you aren't the only family camping in the area, encountering a boy your age at the creek by your campsite. Slight problem though... He doesn't seem to talk.

▹ 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 ┊ꜱ. ɢᴇᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʚɞ ╰┈➤ Before going to bed, your twin daughters Nanako and Mimiko ask your husband for a bedtime story - a story of the day you two first met.

▹ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 ┊ʀ. ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✶ ╰┈➤ Your daughter and son, ever the matchmakers, wonder why your husband, their father, isn't the most romantic. One night, when you come home from work, you witness your kids trying to wrangle Sukuna into a suit, excitedly telling you he's taking you to a fancy restaurant.

▹ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 ┊ᴋ. ᴛᴀᴋᴀᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✦ ╰┈➤ Your three kids decide to surprise you and your husband on your anniversary with a show - a show starring the two people they love most in the world; their parents.

▹ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ┊ᴋ. ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✸ ╰┈➤ Your son storms into your room crying that his mouth hurts, and after careful inspection, you realize he ate Katsuki's spicy chips, the chips he wasn't supposed to buy in the first place. With your daughter as a witness, and you as the judge, the matter is discussed in the proper way - through a family meeting.

▹ 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 ┊ꜱ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✿ ╰┈➤ You're exhausted, and so your loving husband makes sure that you have the day to yourself by keeping your children entertained for the day. The only problem is that your daughters want to do two very different things...and they don't want to compromise.

▹ 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄┊ᴋ. ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✸ ╰┈➤ You and your best friend Mina Ashido go on a much needed girls night - the strain of managing your kids and work life has been strenuous, and both of your loving husbands were more than willing to watch over the kids for the night. However by accident, both men manage to wreck the lego set the kids have been working on, and so they decide to play a game to distract them from the wreckage.

▹ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 ┊ꜱ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✿ ╰┈➤ While you're making breakfast, you make a small offhand complaint about your husband's forgetfulness- however your children overestimate the seriousness of your tone and jump to conclusions, thinking you don't love their father anymore.

for my 1k event on my old acc! tysm to everyone who let me achieve this milestone you all mean the world to me <3

[rosy-hollow]

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