#Judges ch.1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

friskalicousbiscuits · 9 days ago

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Neglected The Mask!reader x platonic Yan!Batfam

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, its “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Chapter Two

Waking up the next day, you felt like garbage. Garbagé if you will. You were face down in bed, faced pressed against your pillow. You closed your mouth to stop any drool from leaking and shifted around until you were on your back.

How did you get back to your room?

Your body felt achy, like you’d run a marathon you were soulfully unprepared for. Not only that but your eyes felt achy from staring at a large, torn piece of paper plastered to your ceiling. How in the world did that get there? It was of your dad. Someone took a sharpie and scribbled some rather crude drawings over him, forcing Bruce Wayne to looked like a big-chested pirate.

Who left that here?

You should probably take it down. If Bruce of Alfred ever came into your room that’d be awkward to explain.

Getting up was a task in itself. You were so tired, your eye bags probably had eye bags. You kicked off your sheets and trudged to the bathroom. When you looked in the mirror, you did indeed look like you pulled three all-nighters in a row. You did the usual brushing teeth, doing hair, just all around making yourself look presentable. As for clothes though…

You walked to the closet and opened it. You blinked and a bunch of money sprung out of it and piled all over the floor and over your legs. It had probably been hastily shoved in judging by how much burst when the closet door was opened.

You stood in silence for a few seconds before carefully grabbing the first shirt and pants you laid your eyes on and hurling them onto your bed before stepping out of the pile. Your shoe rack was covered in money and you didn’t want to make the venture to find it. You probably had a pair lying around though.

You proceeded to spend about five minutes shoving all the money back in.

All of the bills were Benjamin’s too!

Getting dressed, you looked at your rather… distasteful outfit (distasteful for a school like Gotham Prep anyways) and sighed. Blue pajama pants patterned with rubber ducks and a wife beater. Before you could work up the courage to open the closet again to find better clothes and have to shove the money back in, you grabbed the jacket draped over the back of your chair, pulled on some socks (you went and grabbed the duck-patterned ones too, even if they weren’t rubber ducks. Might as well be consistent) and slipped on the only shoes available that weren’t in the closet. Pink, fuzzy slippers.

While debating your life choices as you head to your door, you heard some scratching and whines from the other side of your door.

Ace!

You opened the door and swiftly picked up the German Shepard. It was a little comical that a dog that size was wagging its tail and hopping around slightly for “uppies” but whatever. Ace is your dog. Your baby. Heck, you literally built up muscle so you could keep carrying the dog. He’s your pride and joy.

You walked with him to the kitchen as he licked your cheek. He was barking every now and then and you nodded along. So far, you were pretty sure he was telling you about a squirrel he chased around the barn. “That’s great buddy.” You said as you put him down conveniently as Alfred was filling his, Titus’, and Alfred the Cat’s bowls. Titus, while being Damian’s dog, is also your dog (in spirit). You gave the Great Dane some pats too as you headed to the coffee machine. You made the pot, and after some careful consideration, took the entire thing with you, because like you said earlier, you’re tired.

You said bye to Ace, Alfred and Titus as you headed to the door. You picked your backpack out of the pile everyone threw their bags in near the door, slung it over your shoulder and were off.

School was a long walk and two buses. Sometimes, you considered taking the limo with the rest of the family, but then you’re reminded of how out of place you feel in their presence.

Like you don’t belong.

Like how you’re not supposed to be there despite having been there since a little after Dick first came.

But anyways, here you were at school! If you were ignored at home, it was a little better here! You had friends, were the student council’s treasurer, and all the other titles you held and so on.

You were in the walking period to second block that Tim suddenly jumped out of nowhere, wagging his finger in your face.

“[Name]!”

“Uh— yes?” You were extremely confused. You couldn’t think of a single time in the multiple years that you and Tim had gone to school together that he’d ever approached you, let alone looked your way, while at school. (You figured it was because he didn’t want to be seen with his older sibling at school. He was a Junior, you’re a Senior.)

“Where’s the coffee.” He paused for a moment. “Also, what are you wearing?” He looked you up and down. You supposed that was fair. Gotham Prep had a dress code, and you clearly weren’t adhering to it. You’d already taken the warning from Mrs Sharpay, the front desk lady. You were lucky it was only a warning too and that the lost and found had been recently emptied lest you wear someone’s dirty clothes. (She gave you a wink at that and slid you a Hershey Kiss as you went on your way.) You’d probably be showing the little pink slip she gave you to all the teachers, hall monitors, and janitors in the building so they wouldn’t write you up again.

“It’s trendy right now.” Was the only thing you could pull out of your behind.

“Do you actually believe tha— never mind. Coffee.” He made grabby hands for the pot in your hand. It was about a quarter full. You’d really overestimated how much coffee you could drink in one morning.

You hesitantly handed it to him, scared he might bite your arm off with the way his eyes looked downright feral. “It’s cold bu—” You were cut off by Tim, throwing his head back and chugging the entire thing. “Oh okay.”

You both stood in silence for a bit as Tim wiped his mouth and handed the pot back to you. He made grabby hands again. “Fifty bucks.”

“What?”

“Fifty bucks. I forgot my wallet at home because I was super tired and I want to get several cups, purely filled with espresso shots.” He said, stone-cold serious.

“Isn’t that extremely unhealthy for yo—” You were cut off again by your little brother.

“Fifty. Bucks.” He emphasized each word, keeping that serious expression.

You stared for about a minute before you sighed and walked to a trashcan, not to the throw the pot away but to simply put it down on top of it for a moment. You got out your wallet and fished out two twenties and a ten, leaving you with a sad little five, and handed it to him. “At least get a croissant with those cups of expresso shots. Maybe it’ll soak up all the expresso-ness and not give you a hard attack.” You spoke shoving your wallet back into your jacket pocket, feeling the folded note from Mrs Sharpay as your hand brushed against it. You picked the coffee pot back up.

“You seriously underestimate the capability of my heart.” Tim said, eyes not leaving the bills he counted before walking off. You watched him go, sending a silent prayer to whatever deity can hear you so they can make it so that Tim doesn’t end up as a news story.

You continued walking to second block.

Wow, that was like the sixth conversation you’ve had with Tim in the nearly five years of you both knowing each other.

It was during third block that you heard about that new rogue. It was science class and the teacher was playing a movie— Jurassic Park actually. A classic, honestly. You and your lab partner, Samantha, or Sammy as she let you and her other friends call her, were sharing a piece of paper riddled with tic-tac-toe columns. She’d used the same strategy three times in a row and you’d also lost to her three times in a row. As for the reasons of your embarrassing losses? The girls behind you were whispering a little too loud about said new rogue so you were distracted.

They talked of a green-faced freak with cartoon powers, dressed in a polka-dotted suit. Now if that doesn’t just sound ridiculous, you don’t know what is.

…then again, you were pretty sure you had a dream of being that rogue…

Eh. It was probably just a coincidence.

Then, they started talking about how the rogue set the Joker of all people on fire.

Huh. That was similar to your dream too.

Then about how they robbed a bank immediately after.

…okay, you remembered dreaming about that too. Was that where the money in your closet came from?

Nah, there’s no way. Duke or Steph or maybe even Damian probably just withdrew way too much money and thought your room was a storage room, and the closet, a storage closet. Thats it! Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. It’s not like that hadn’t happened before. One time, (this was after he’d nearly beaten you to death) Jason stumbled in super bloody and put a bunch on guns in your closet before leaving. That encounter had you hiding under your blankets like it was boogieman instead of him. You don’t even think he noticed you. (He’d later came by when you weren’t home and took all of them back except a pistol wedged at the back of your shoe rack weeks later. You still have that thing. It’s at the bottom of your bedside drawer, buried under miscellaneous items such as chapsticks and pens. It’s for just in case the man loses his mind again and tries to kill you once more. You won’t have a repeat of that night. No siree.)

He probably had a concussion. Either that or maybe he was delirious from blood loss.

But the point is! Whoever put the money there thought it was probably storage. Hopefully.

Though, as their conversation went on, and Sammy scored more wins, you heard about how the rogue ripped off a piece of a billboard with your father’s face on it. How they would spin around like Taz from Looney Tunes. How they gave several police officers wedgies. Overall, how they were an all around a chaotic, kinda horrifying individual.

And you remembered doing all of that.

The billboard thing was also likely the picture of Bruce stuck to your ceiling.

As soon as you got home you needed to burn that. No way José were you having a connection to the newest rogue in Gotham.

That is, if these girls weren’t (somehow) messing with you. (There’s like no way you accidentally sleepwalked to one of their houses and they FaceTimed it to one of their friends and now they’re just messing with you, right?) You quickly tossed Sammy the packet of peanut m&ms she won form all the rounds of tic-tac-toe and pulled out your phone to look up what they were talking about. It didn’t turn on. In fact…

You pulled off your phone case and screen protector. Some water droplets dribbled down onto the desk. It was still wet from last night.

You stared at it.

Oh right, you fell— or were pulled into the water because of a wave. You don’t ever remember charging it during the… dream, let’s just call it that for now, either. So, it was either dead from battery loss or fried from the radioactive Gotham water.

Darn it.

You shoved it back into your pocket and looked to Sam who’d just finished her m&ms. “Sammy, can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?” She asked suspiciously. Oh right, that thing was her baby.

“Cause I need to look something up and I think the school computers have the Gotham Gazette blocked.”

She squinted at you before putting her hand out. You slapped another little bag of peanut m&ms into her hand before she handed you her phone. You typed into the search bar, clicked the first link, waiting for the crappy signal to do its thing and load the page, and started reading.

That science class drilled into your head that last night was in fact not a dream at all.

The sun was starting to set as you made your usual speedy trek home. The earliest you got out of school was five. This is because of all the clubs you’d joined so you wouldn’t have to go home so early like said previously. The latest you could get out is six. The reason you couldn’t go any further was because the bus lines shut off at seven. You didn’t want to walk all the way home. You’d rather bus a chunk of the way and run the rest.

That’s how by 6:37. You get out of school by three by the way. So you’d shaved off three hours of time in family vicinity.

Now to trudge to your room to avoid the rest of them.

As you entered, you watched Ace pad over. You picked him up again, your head pressed into his chest fur as he licked your hair. You walked to your room, still carrying him.

“Hey, Dick.” Someone said as you passed by them.

Both you and Ace let out a confused noise but kept walking. You deposited Ace on your bed and threw your bag near your bed. You sat down, feeling the mattress give under your weight before you did a double-take at something you say on your nightstand.

It was a mask. Wooden, said wood was greenish in color. Where did this thing come from? Your hardest to remember when you’d gotten it, but nothing.

Unless…

That night in the water… the blob. That had been a mask. It’d stuck to your face and turned you into that rogue.

This can’t be that mask, right?

Right?

You’d picked it up and slowly brought it to your face. You sat there for a few moments until Ace let out a confused whine. You eventually let it rest in your lap again.

“Maybe it only works at night.” You murmured staring at the mask. It didn’t have that glowing you remembered from the night before. Neither purple nor green.

Nah. There’s no way. It was probably just a one time fluke and all the magic in the mask is drained now. Yup. Totally. You open the window near your bed and threw it out like a frisbee, making sure to grab Ace’s collar before he would lunge at it. With that settled, you turned around to open your book bag so you can finish your homewor—

Thunk

Something hit you in the back of the head. “Ow!” You exclaimed as you turned around. It was the mask again. It was laying innocently on your bed, its little wooden smile mocking you.

You repeated your throwing it out of the window three separate times, only for to smack you in the head three more times until you gave up and just placed it back on your bedside table.

You swear its grin got more mocking with each smack to the head. Ace just looked at you with as much confusion as a dog could muster.

You were later laying in bed when you decided to put the mask on for a second time. You’d been staring at the ceiling, at the place the picture of your father used to be. You were desperately trying to ignore the—

Put it on.

—being whispered into your ear. The ear that was closest to the mask. You wouldn’t. Why? Well because everyone thinks you’re a rogue, of course! And sure, while everything was so freeing and colorful and fun— you didn’t think you’d felt so much of that in one night— You also lit the Joker on fire, and while that itself isn’t bad, you really don’t wanna do that to someone else. What if you did that to a mother, a husband, a child?

“But— but it was just so… so freeing,” the voice whispered. “Can you even remember the last time you felt like that, [Nickname]?” It hissed as your eyes slid to it, drawn to it. “Come on. It’ll be just us! You and Masky, having endless fun and mischief.”

Your hand moved. You couldn’t stop it. You knew this was a bad idea. A horrible one even. But just the thought of feeling like that again…

Put it on.

Put it on!

The voice sounded like it was chanting at this point. You picked it up and held it above your face, you could already feel your skin, pulling itself forward to the mask. It was shimmering once more. It was almost hypnotizing.

When it stuck to your face again, you clawed and struggled just like you did last night and soon you were spinning and spinning and spinning.

Bruce Wayne - The Batman POV

Bruce landed on the next rooftop, taking cover behind a ventilation unit to look down below in the streets. This was the street. This was the street that the Riddler had planted bombs in. Yet, instead of Bruce being the first to engage with the man, it was instead the green-faced rogue from the night before.

The one he and his family had spent the entire night chasing after.

He’d gotten Oracle to stream the conversation to him using a camera they were close to.

“Well, this is new.” Nygma mused, rubbing his chin. “Are you the one who decided to test tempt fate, because I hate to say it, you don’t look like an intellectual.” He started leaning on his cane as he spoken his usual condescending tone.

Bruce took his time to examine the new rogue. They were wearing something different this time. A royal blue three piece with orange wavy lines for the pattern. The tie was orange. They were wearing a fedora this time too. It had a peacock feather attached.

The new rogue gasped at this. “I’ll have you know I am quite these esteemed scholar with over 800 years of experience, bub!” The green-faced flicked their wrist, and a cane slid out of their sleeve. Black with their head at the top of it their cane. They leaned on it in a similar way to the Riddler. Bruce blinked and they had glasses which they pushed up dramatically. “Try me!”

The Riddler rattled off a riddle—

Try saying that five times—

Which had the new rogue freeze. Their cane then suddenly broke, and they face planted before shooting back up. “Okay, I’ll admit, you lost me. Now where are those bombs?” They asked looking around, pulling large binoculars out to look around the buildings. Bruce was sure he was hidden enough.

“I suppose you’ll just have to find out.” The Riddler said smugly as he press the button on one of his watches. Soon after that, a timer, started to run on one of his other watches. Oracle reported that it was counting down from five minutes. The Riddler’s words seemed to make the new rogue sigh and toss their comically large binoculars to the side. They almost landed on Nygma, and would’ve if he hadn’t stepped out of the way.

“Indeed! Looks like this is a job that needs to be done manually!” The new rogue exclaimed as they started spinning and spinning until they were straight out of a cartoon spinning around bursting through building doors, and from what Oracle reports, spinning through each and every single individual room.

And if a room had a bomb in it? It grabbed it.

In every room it entered, windows shattered, furniture was thrown about and floors were ripped through. In fact, when it first started spinning in the street, it tore through the concrete with the road. It went through every single building in that street until it came back with five bombs, all deposited in front of the Riddler.

“Now, I know what you��re thinking. They can’t possibly eat it, right?” The green-faced rogue said with a grin as they tied a bib around their neck and pulled some utensils from somewhere. Contrary to its words, Bruce, the Riddler, Oracle, and everyone who watched this recording later for review, watched as it scarfed down each of the bombs, unhinging it’s a jaw to shove each of them in. When it finished with the last one, Edward’s timer ran out and they all seemed to explode. Its stomach inflated for a moment before deflating as the rogue let out a large burp.

“Smokey.” It drew the word out as it then started laughing and spun off to somewhere else.

Just as it left, both Robin and Red Robin arrived. Bruce directed Tim to arresting the Riddler while Damian was ordered to come along with him so they could chase after the creature. Imp maybe? Its powers sort of aligned with an imp. Less theorizing more catching up to it.

When Bruce got to the scene…

…Of course it was forcing an entire street of people to tap dance with it… Because why not?

And when he tried to apprehend it? Well, he got his cape wrapped around him and tied into a little bow before being pushed over to fall on ground. Robin got the same treatment, but instead of a light push, he got more of a shove.

And of course Jason was the one who found them like that.

The next morning, you were crabby to say the least. You were also watching cartoons too before you had to leave for school. It was around five in the morning right now, and as for why you were up and dressed (in your actual uniform this time. Were those five minutes shoving the money back into the closet really worth it?) so early? Well, after you came back from being a rogue, you collapsed in bed at around two in the morning. From there, you got about an hour of sleep. Then, at like 3:30, you woke up and stared at your ceiling for another hour and a half before finally getting ready.

Ace was across your lap, getting dog fur on your clothes, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were petting him until someone slid onto the couch next to you.

Are you joking right now? Damian? Are you fu— freaking serious?

The kid went all but a couple seconds before making his demand. “Put on Animal Planet.” He spoke in his usual stoic tone. This really should not have been so irritating (you were honestly surprised you even got irritated at him in the first place) but… then again it is five in the morning.

“Damian, I don’t want to.” You tried your best to sound polite. Can’t have your younger brother pull another katana out of his behind and try to slice your throat open again, now can you?

“I said put on animal planet.” He was glaring now.

“Damian.” Your tone almost sounded saccharine as you tried to stay cordial. “For fuck’s sake, I said no.” It was really hard to say that while still forcing a polite smile.

Also, wait. Shit. You just cursed at him.

You silently prayed he wouldn’t come at you with a katana fresh out of the shower later today. Surprisingly though, he actually went quiet.

Eventually, the silence got to you. To keep yourself from squirming like an idiot, you instead turned to him and spoke, “I’m sorry, Damian. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I’m just tired, okay? How about we watch animal planet after this episode?”

He continued staying quiet for the rest of your time at the couch. Even after you switched it to Animal Planet.

Damian Wayne - Robin POV

A thought blared through the boy’s mind, “[Name] actually grew a backbone!”

Bonus Lore About the Story:

1.) Mrs Sharpay/the desk lady gave you that Hershey Kiss because she thinks you’re a cutie. Whether you’re a boy or girl or neither, she thinks you’re a cutie. 2.) The conversation between Duke, Steph, and Tim after he demanded the buckeroones, resulted in Steph calling him a lecherous little monster. 3.) Jason is pretty sure that either you or Alfred has the gun he forgot. He came back to your room for a third time to see if he could find it and it was still missing. He hopes that it’s you who has it because he himself doesn’t ever want a repeat of that night either. 4.) The person who thought you were Dick was an extremely tired Bruce. He has multiple memories of Dick carrying Ace like that when the dog was smaller so he thought it was Dick. You also take a bit to recognize his voice due to the fact you’ve held maybe two steady conversations with him.

Taglist: @yourtypicalhuman09 @cupid73 @yhin-gg @galaxypurplerose @xxgrimripp3rxx @hai-there-how-are-you @suckmyballzfr @yarn-mony @patatasolitaria

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #neglected reader #x reader

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stargazsblog · 6 months ago

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how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.2 first move

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: and the game begins…

masterlist

You were still thinking about the party as you got back to your apartment, shaking off the strange vibe that lingered after your conversation with Sukuna. He wasn’t exactly rude, but something about the way he talked, the way he acted so sure of himself, rubbed you the wrong way.

You threw your jacket over the back of your chair, saying goodnight to Shoko as she walked into her room. You plopped onto your bed, pulling your phone from your bag.

You opened Instagram, scrolling through posts finally loving the peace.

Until a notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You sat up in shock, staring at your screen. Sukuna had followed you?

Your thumb hovered over the notification, the tension building as you debated your next move. Block him? Ignore him? Or… stalk him?

The smarter choice would’ve been to block him, but knowing yourself, you clicked on his profile.

His account was exactly what you expected.

Post after post of candid photo, Sukuna at some party. A drink in his hand and his arm slung casually around a girl who looked like she’d won the lottery. Sukuna leaning against his car, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

He had thousands of followers. The comments were full of heart emojis and flirty compliments. He had only followed 20 people, mostly his friends and family.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the growing curiosity. He didn’t follow anyone unless they were important, so… why was he following you?

Ignore it, you told yourself, he’ll get bored eventually.

As your stared at his profile, a second notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen sent your a message.

Your stomach flipped.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: took you long enough to notice me

You scowled, your fingers itching to respond. He was so full of himself that it was almost comical.

2:40AM You: is this part of some weird social experiment?

His reply came almost instantly.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: what me following you? nah just curious

2:41AM You: curious about what?

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: about what kind of stuff you post don’t worry i won’t judge… much

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your headboard. the nerve of this guy.

2:41AM You: wow, lucky me

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: relax sweetheart i’m just here to see if you’re as boring online as you are in person

Your jaw dropped. He had to be kidding. You stared at the screen, debating weather to let the conversation die or put him in his place.

2:42AM You: bold words for someone who posts the same three poses over and over

This time, there was a pause before replying. When it came it was shorter than you expected.

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: touché

For a moment, you almost smiled.

2:42AM You: now that you’ve satisfied your “curiosity” you can go ahead and unfollow me

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: nah i’ll stick around

You sighed, swiping away from his message leaving him on seen. You stared at the screen, the notification still visible: Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You glanced at his profile one more time. The same images, the same cocky smirk in every picture.

With a deep breath, you pressed follow back.

For a moment nothing happened, you set your phone down and let out a slow exhale, almost feeling dumb for replying to him.

Just as you were about to close the app and convince yourself it doesn’t matter, your phone buzzed.

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: i knew you couldn’t resist

You rolled your eyes, a smile hugging at the corner of your lips.

2:50AM You: don’t get too cocky

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: too late already am

2:50AM You: your unbearable

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: only when i’m around you

You stared at the screen, for a moment, unsure how to respond. He was good at this, good at getting under your skin, making you react, and you had to admit it was starting to feel like he wasn’t just messing around.

2:51AM You: we’ll see how long that lasts

2:51AM: Sukuna Ryomen: i’ll be around as long as you let me.

A little shiver ran down your spine at his words, but you pushed it aside. You weren’t ready to admit how much you were starting to look forward to whatever this way.

Sukuna was following you everywhere. You meant it everywhere.

It doesn’t matter if you were grabbing a coffee, sitting in class, or heading to the library, whatever you were doing he was there. Sometimes he would be leaning against the wall, staring at you as you walked by, other times he would be scrolling through his phone like he just happened to be in the same place.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. After all, it wasn’t like you owned the campus. But by the fourth time in a single day? Yeah, no. He was definitely following you.

You were midway through highlighting your notes when the chair across from you scraped against the floor. The sudden sound made you glance up, and there he was. Sukuna Ryomen.

“Are you stalking me now?” you asked, glancing back to your notes.

“Stalking is a strong word,” Sukuna's voice drawled, too close for comfort. “We just happen to be in the same place at the same time.”

You sighed, as you spun back to face him, he’s leaning back casually on the chair, one arm draped over the chair next to him.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

You crossed your arms. “Pretty sure we already had that conversation. Last night.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Yeah, but you didn’t say anything interesting, figured I’d give you another chance.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” there was something about the way he was staring at you, like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you even bothering me? you’ve got half of the campus eating out your hand, and i’m not interested in joining the club.”

Sukuna leaned forward, just enough to make your knees touch. “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t care.” his tone was softer now, the change caught you off guard.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “how tragic for you.”

he grinned. “See that’s why I like you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit. What was he even talking about? he didn’t know you.

“You don’t even know me,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” he said simply, as if the answer was obvious.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” you said bluntly, closing your notebook with a snap.

You stood up, gathering your things quickly, but Sukuna wasn’t done. As you walked away, his voice followed you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

“I’m telling you, he’s obsessed. First, he’s showing up wherever you are, second, he’s following you on Instagram. classic Sukuna move.” Shoko says as you guys are seated at a small table in the student lounge.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, and now he’s everywhere I go. It’s like he’s trying to prove something.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow. “Maybe he is. I mean, it’s Sukuna. He doesn’t exactly follow people around for no reason.”

You scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? He follows around half the campus trying to get in their pants.”

“Yeah, but those girls usually throw themselves at him. You…” Shoko gestures vaguely at you. “…don’t. He’s probably intrigued.”

you snort. “Well, he’s wasting his time. I’m not interested.”

Before Shoko can respond, Sukuna’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Ouch. That hurts.”

Both of you look up as Sukuna strolls over, his signature smirk firmly in place. He’s holding a small paper bag in one hand, the other resting casually in his pocket.

Shoko grins and leans back in her chair, clearly ready to enjoy whatever’s about to happen.

“Talking about me?” His voice carries just the right amount of smugness as he stops by your table. “I can feel the love from here.”

You glare up at him, unimpressed. “Love? please your delusional.”

Ignoring your sarcasm, Sukuna slides the bag closer to you. “Here. Thought you’d like this.”

You looked at the bag like it might explode. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Open it,” Sukuna says, leaning back in his chair, watching you carefully.

You side-eyed him before reaching for the bag, you’re fingerings brushing against the paper as you peek inside. Your favorite snacks are in there.

You looked up at him confused. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

Sukuna shrugs like it’s no big deal, “I have my ways.”

You narrowed your eyes, a mix of suspicion and frustration bubbling up inside you. “That’s not an answer. Are you really stalking me?” It all felt too strange to ignore. First, he found your Instagram without you ever mentioning it. Then, he seemed to show up wherever you were. What was next—was he going to start lurking outside your house?

He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “Stalk you? What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You don’t buy it for a second. “The kind who’s trying way too hard.”

“Or the kind who pays attention,” Sukuna counters smoothly, his voice dropping a fraction as he leans forward.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and even Shoko raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show.

You stiffen but recover quickly, crossing your arms again. “You really think this is going to work? Snacks and flirty comments?”

“It’s a start,” Sukuna says with a lazy grin, standing up. “By the way, there’s a party tomorrow night. You should come.”

You don’t hesitate. “Not interested.”

Sukuna shrugs, completely unbothered by the rejection. “I wasn’t asking. I’ll see you there.”

He winks, turning and walking away without waiting for your response

Shoko finally speaks, her tone laced with curiosity. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing the bag into your tote. “Nothing. He’s only doing this to try to get me into his bed. It’s his thing.”

Shoko studies you for a moment, her voice thoughtful. “I don’t know. That didn’t seem like that to me.”

You huff, shoving your drink away. “Whatever. I’m not falling for it.”

Shoko grins, standing up and grabbing her bag. “You don’t have to fall for anything. But we’re going to that party.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, we are.” Shoko pulls her chair back, already starting to walk away. “I need to see where this goes. Plus, free drinks. You’re coming, no arguments.”

You groaned, grabbing your things to follow her. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love me for it,” Shoko calls over her shoulder, grinning.

Sukuna didn’t realize how hard this was going to be. Day one of the challenge, and you were already proving to be unlike anyone he’d dealt with before.

It was frustrating and intriguing.

He had done his research, of course. Stalking your social media was step one, but even that had been harder than he expected. Your profiles were understated. No attention-seeking selfies, no overly revealing posts. Just snapshots of books, obscure playlists, and the occasional candid photo with friends.

“I can’t figure her out,” he had muttered late one night, scrolling through your feed for what felt like the hundredth time.

That’s when he realized he needed help.

“You really don’t know anything about her?” Geto had asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back against Sukuna’s desk.

“She’s invisible,” Sukuna muttered, tossing his phone onto the table. “No parties, no drama, no clue what she’s into. It’s like she’s living on a different planet.”

Geto smirked. “Sounds like someone’s not used to working for it.”

Sukuna shot him a glare, but Geto just shrugged. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

The next day, Geto cornered Shoko during a break between classes. He made it look casual, of course just two old friends catching up. But Geto had a knack for reading people, and Shoko wasn’t hard to crack.

“She’s into the little things,” Shoko had said, blowing out a puff of smoke from her cigarette. “You know, stuff that actually matters. Like, she’s not going to fall for some big, flashy gesture. She likes thoughtful things her favorite snacks, a good book, stuff like that.”

By the time Geto reported back, Sukuna had a plan. It was subtle, sure, but he could work with that.

After handing you the snacks, He strolled back to his usual spot with Gojo and Geto, settling down next to them with a frustrated sigh.

“So, any luck with her?” Gojo asked, not missing a beat.

Sukuna set his drink down, running a hand through his hair as he slouched in his chair. “Not as easy as I thought. You guys are right—no amount of flashing a smile and throwing out my usual charm is going to work on her.”

Geto smirked, leaning forward. “She’s in your head, huh?”

Gojo chuckled, propping his chin on his hand. “This is new. Sukuna Ryomen, struggling to win over a girl? What’s next, you’re gonna write her a love poem?”

Sukuna shot them both a glare, his jaw tightening. “Laugh it up,” he muttered. “But I’m not backing down.”

Geto raised a brow. “You sound almost impressed.”

“Maybe I am,” Sukuna said, a glint of determination sparking in his eyes. “And maybe that’s what makes this fun. I invited her to the party.”

Geto and Gojo both blinked, momentarily stunned by Sukuna’s straightforwardness.

“You invited her to the party?” Gojo asked, leaning forward in surprise. “Bold move. What’s the plan there? Just charm her in front of the whole crowd?”

Sukuna shrugged, but there was something sharper in his expression now. “It will work. I don’t think she’s the type to fall for a big scene, but if I show her I’m not like the others, she’ll bite eventually.”

Gojo chuckled. “You’re really going for the slow burn, huh?”

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s lips curved into a confident grin. “She won’t see it coming.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ve got, what, few more days to make this work? Good luck, man.”

Sukuna smirked, not looking away from you as you stood up, chatting with Shoko. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Later that night, you were lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to forget the strange encounter with Sukuna earlier. Your mind kept drifting back to the way he’d smiled when he handed you your favorite snack, the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a second too long.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, and your stomach flipped when you saw his name. Hesitating for a moment, you opened the message.

11:30PM Sukuna Ryomen: hope i see you at the party tomorrow sweetheart wouldn’t be the same without you

Attached to the text was the party’s address.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the pillow beside you. Why did he have to be so persistent? And You told yourself you wouldn’t go—there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction.

But as you stared at the message again, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go.

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu @ferretsqueen @anonnieghost @boogiemansbitch @sukubusss @sterzin @miazzzma @silkija @blueemochii @number0netrash

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solarstranger · 2 months ago

Text

TOO HOT TO HANDLE (4.9k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. halloween has always been the time for you to unwind—have fun, even—as a reprieve from the stresses work and life brought you. but when your best friend bakugou somehow shows up to the party in a not-so-forgiving costume, you suddenly find that the last thing you can do is relax. (read on ao3)

c.w. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), post-ch 431: more, lots of cussing AND banter, explicit themes (which i will not delve into for the element of surprise, but be warned), apt amounts of yearning (because why not)

a/n. dedicated to @andypantsx3 who inadvertently unlocked a kink for me by merely shitposting about it (the power that you hold). i know halloween is still ages away, but this is just what i came up with lol so i hope you like it ms andie <3 and to everyone who will give this fic a chance. i love you all!

This was all supposed to be a joke.

At least, you’re pretty sure it started as one.

It all began with an off-hand suggestion during one of your weekly movie nights with the squad—a week before Mina’s annual Halloween party. It was Kaminari’s turn to host and pick the film, unfortunately enough, although the five of you have since accepted the fact that there was no way of skipping the electric hero’s round despite the majority vote being for it.

(Though you supposed it made sense for a man comically notorious for things never going his way to be exceptionally stubborn about things he can control.)

Either way, it was probably his stubborn will to (force you to) watch Cabin Fever that propelled you into a mildly dissociative state where—instead of tuning into the poorly rated flick playing animatedly in front of you—your mind drifted to the upcoming event, and the fact that you still didn’t have a costume to wear.

You figured it was probably too late to order something half-decent or have an entire ensemble tailored for you, not that you had any ideas for an individual outfit in the first place. Ever since getting closer to the squad three years ago, you’ve developed a preference for wearing group costumes, partly because it was fun and made identifying each other during parties easier, not to mention transformed the group photos into something else entirely, but mostly because it saved you the brain power to think of what to wear yourself.

So you’d be lying if you said you weren’t mildly disappointed when Mina first made the announcement that she was going solo this year.

“Sorry, guys,” she shot to the group chat with a pouting emoji at 1 in the morning on the day of your last hangout before the party. “I really want to be Princess Bubblegum for Halloween—at least once.”

Unsurprisingly, Kaminari and Sero immediately gave her shit for the last-minute proclamation, although they didn’t get to complain for far too long before the female suggested they dress up as Peter Parker and Harry Osborn in their superhero clothes, an idea that they just as quickly gobbled up as soon as she sent a link for ready-made suits.

Kirishima, on the other hand, was completely unfazed—you’d even think he was glad for the out, judging by how fast he came up with the decision to go as Crimson Riot.

Will he likely end up looking just like how he normally does?

Yes.

Are you still envious of him?

Also, yes.

You didn’t dare express your dissatisfaction, though, wary of potentially disheartening your closest girlfriend. At the very least, she deserved to embody the character she wanted, especially with how much effort she puts into hosting these parties every year.

Which left you alone and—most definitely—costume-less.

A predicament of yours that you wouldn’t be caught dead dwelling on if it weren’t for Kaminari’s mind-numbingly terrible taste in movies, and the oddly convenient fact that the living human sitting beside you on the two-seater sofa is the only other costume-less person left in your group.

“What.”

You startled, then—partly because you were actually dissociating, but also because you didn’t notice you were staring.

Enough to catch Bakugou’s attention.

“N-nothing,” you retorted, conscious of keeping your voice low.

“Out with it.”

You sighed. You’ve known the man long enough to understand he wouldn’t back down—even if it meant inadvertently disturbing the others.

“I was just thinking,” you started quietly, shifting uncomfortably in your shared seat, “Since we’re the only two left with no costumes, do you—maybe—wanna—do a duo set?”

A grunt. Then: “Whaddya have in mind?”

You paused. Definitely something that hid your body. You weren’t about to strut next to Bakugou in a slutty suit, nor were you confident enough in how you look to even dare to wear anything promiscious.

You swore you got an ad for some stupid combination a few days ago…

“Aha!” you found yourself unexpectedly exclaiming, which earned you a stink-eye from Kaminari and startled looks from the rest. You mumbled a sheepish sorry, before turning back towards the ash-blonde.

“I saw it on Facebook Marketplace,” you whispered, leaning slightly into the man, acutely aware of his familiar perfume. “A firefighter and a fire hydrant.”

Bakugou blinked at you, before: “You want to go as a fire hydrant?”

“Yeah!” you forced out a laugh, suddenly self-conscious. “What’s wrong with it? I always wanted to wear something stupid for Halloween.”

“A fire hydrant.”

“Stop sounding so incredulous, you dickhead.”

Bakugou stared at you for another beat, before looking away, shrugging. “Whatever. As long as I don’t look like a dumbass in that shit.”

“Of course, you won’t!” you chirped, fishing into your pocket for your phone so you could place the order despite knowing Kaminari would reprimand you for using gadgets while the film is playing. “We’ll be the hottest duo at the party.”

You didn’t mean to be right.

You only said what you said because you were, admittedly, over the moon about Bakugou surprisingly going along with your proposition—a much favorable response than the one you were expecting from the pro-hero.

You didn’t bother asking the seller about the measurements, either, having eyeballed the pictures and hastily deciding that it seemed like it was going to fit the ash-blonde. You weren’t about to lose the set to a much speedier, equally last-minute buyer.

It didn’t take long for you to receive the well-wrapped package, and you had his piece of the ensemble instantly delivered to his home the following day.

Weirdly enough, you didn’t hear any complaints from the man. Once you were sure he had claimed your mini gift bag, you certainly braced yourself for some expletives to come your way, laced with flak about the quality of the stitching, or criticism regarding the stiffness of the fabric, but none of that came.

Which, now that you’re standing on Mina’s front porch and gaping at the sight in front of you, suddenly makes sense.

Because you didn’t mean to be right—when you said you were going to be hot.

Well, certainly not you. The only curve on your body right now is the curve of the top of your flimsy fire hydrant costume.

But Bakugou?

You force your eyes away from how his shirt sleeves are clinging to his biceps for dear life.

“Don’t you look stupid.”

At the taunt, your gaze snaps back at the pro-hero, a reflex that you instantly regret when you’re once again met with the sight of his too-tight shirt that is tucked into, thankfully, not-as-tight (actually, loose) yellow pants, hands buried deep inside his pockets.

You scramble for a response.

“W-where’s your jacket?” you croak, “And hat?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow ever so minutely, as if in bemusement, before a wave of realization sweeps his features. He nods to the commotion behind him, “It’s hot inside. Had to take it off.”

“What?” you can’t help but frown, “You’re compromising the integrity of our costume set.”

You’re also making it a little hard to breathe, the pesky little voice in your head pipes up.

You slap a metaphorical hand over its metaphorical mouth.

Bakugou grins. “And you’re hilariously articulate for a fucking fire hydrant.”

“Fucking—”

“And before you spray at me,” he cuts you off, hands raised in mock surrender, “Mina’s looking for you. She wants to take pictures while her wig glue is still working.”

You’re losing him.

Scratch that—you’ve lost him.

And—jesus—you’ve never felt better.

As it turns out, you shot yourself in the foot when you unwittingly roped Bakugou into doing this with you, because you forgot the guy infuriatingly looks good in anything.

Even a baggy uniform set that you forced him to keep wearing despite his loud protests, citing the scalding, humid heat that’s becoming more and more unbearable with each passing moment, even to an in-denial you.

You argued it was to make sure people understood what you two were supposed to be, but really, it was for your own motherfucking sanity, and probably the sanity of every single individual in this party who is remotely attracted to men.

Because, had you known that that shirt was a complete and utter atrocity to mankind, you would’ve sent it back to that seller the minute you got the package.

No, actually. You would’ve burned it.

Besides, that excuse was pure bullshit to start with anyway, because being seen as a set is certainly the last thing you’re aiming for right now, not with how you’ve been avoiding the ash-blonde not just like a plague, but like all ten plagues of Egypt—swerving into tight corners and ducking under furniture as much as your not-so-inconspicous get-up allows you just to get away from him.

But you should’ve known better than to think you could hide from the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

The very Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, who’s currently peering menacingly down at you, where you’re stuffed—crammed in the small, dusty space between Mina’s sofa and the living room wall.

You laugh, although it comes out a bit stilted.

“…I can explain?”

That’s all you manage to get out—except for a squawk—when he suddenly lurches forward and grabs you by the wrist, bringing you to your feet in a flash. You don’t get to say anything in complaint before you find yourself already being dragged through a crowd of partygoers, the decidedly fuming man not bothering to excuse yourselves as he forces the people to make way through his sheer presence alone, like Moses parting the Red Sea.

You try to say sorry to every other person you bump into, forcing your mind not to focus on how ridiculous you must be looking right now—a frumpy fire hydrant being forcefully pulled by an angry firefighter—although you’re just as swiftly yanked from your stupor and the uncomfortable spotlight when you’re tugged up the staircase and into what you can only guess is Mina’s bedroom.

The door slams shut behind you once you’re inside, and you flinch, Bakugou’s back turned against you—although you don’t have to catch a glimpse of his face to know he’s mad.

Steeling yourself, you clear your throat.

“Look, Bakugou, I—”

“Are you pulling some kind of prank on me, because believe me, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

You gulp. “I—”

“What?” he finally turns to you, cutting you off, and you barely miss the sweat dripping down his temples as he scowls at you, “You what?”

“I w-was… I was just…”

He scoffs, a gruff, smug sound that causes you to stiffen. “What? Can’t even come up with a shitty excuse?”

At that, you bristle, and then open your mouth to spit something back, when you’re abruptly stopped in your tracks as Bakugou unceremoniously yanks the jacket and headpiece off of him, the aggressive motion leaving his muscles no choice but to strain against his stained-with-sweat compression shirt.

And, despite yourself, you stare.

“What?” you distantly hear him ask you—suspiciously—while you only blink at him, frozen.

You don’t know how much time passes between the two of you, but you don’t remember daring to move an inch, at least not until Bakugou says something again, effectively snapping you out of your trance.

“…’re you staring at, dumbass?”

You tense in attention, immediately averting your gaze. “N-nothing. I wasn’t s-staring—at a-anything.”

“…Huh.”

You whip to look at him. “What?”

He stares at you for another moment, the intimidation from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with—

Your train of thought gets completely derailed when he wordlessly takes a step closer to you, then another, then another, until your back collides with the door, and his arms are caging you in between them, and you’re desperately wishing you’d meld with the wood just to get away from—

To get away from—

From—

“I make you horny, is that it?”

Your jaw drops.

To your surprise, Bakugou isn’t smirking, or dripping with any sense of conceit.

Instead, he’s peering at you with something…

There’s no way in hell, but it’s almost akin to—

“Answer me.”

At that, you seize up, but—miraculously—manage to force out a cackle a second later. “Ha ha, very funny, Bakugou.”

“Now, come on,” you start, voice wobbly, moving to duck under his arm, but then he slams his hand against the door, and you—despite yourself—immediately straighten up back in position.

A glare. “I’m not asking you again.”

“Or else what?”

His eyes darken; you fight back a shudder.

“Or else I’m gonna have to pry it out of your fucking mouth.”

You frown. “How the hell are you—”

You can only squeak in shock when Bakugou—the Bakugou Katsuki—#5 pro-hero of all of Japan, but perhaps more importantly, one of your best friends for the past three years, all but smashes his lips against yours, instantly encasing your mouth in his.

You can’t help it—you don’t think there’s any way for you to help it—but you moan at the contact, arms shooting up to circle around his neck, just as his scarred ones plant themselves on your hips, yanking you right up next to him—so close that you feel the faint silhouette of what can only be his—

“Shut up,” he mumbles against your lips before you can say anything, immediately following it up with another open-mouthed kiss.

“W-what,” you retort as well as you can despite his barrage of attacks, squirming under his harsh hold, “I didn’t—mmm—say—anything.”

To your chagrin, he pulls away ever so slightly, a petulant frown on his face. “You were about to shoot me with a belated comeback, you smartass.”

You break into a grin. “Well, I’m not the one with a hard-on.”

“That’s it.”

You barely stop yourself from yelping when Bakugou all but tears your costume apart with one strong tug, a loss that you would most definitely regret if it weren’t for that display of strength just now embarrassingly sending a shot of arousal down your veins, causing you to fail to tamp down a shiver.

Unfortunately, this subtle reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who only smirks knowingly at you as he tosses the onesie aside, staring at you in all your barely clothed glory. “So I do make you horny.”

You flame. “Y-you know, you shouldn’t be all cocky when you’re dick is literally standing as erect as you.”

That makes Bakugou bark out a stunned laugh, which makes you smile in spite of yourself.

Instead of spewing a quip right back at you, though, he leans in again, pressing a contrastingly soft peck on your lips. “Never said you didn’t have the same effect on me, princess.”

You gape at him. “As a fire hydrant?”

Bakugou visibly falters, and you snort, which earns you a flick on the forehead.

“Obviously, not in that suit,” he remarks, hands finding their way back on your hips, rubbing soothing circles on the covered flesh. “But that’s what the imagination is for, right?”

Your eyes widen. “Y-you mean—you’ve—”

“Yeah,” he replies, not letting you finish, tone uncharacteristically quiet. “I-is that—uh—alright?”

Fuck.

Well, then.

You’ve always believed honesty begets honesty.

Which is why you say the next thing.

“Yes. It’s more than alright.”

Apparently, that response is more than alright to him, because Bakugou hoists you up in his arms like you barely matched the weight of a small sack of potatoes, but not before diving in for another kiss—one that’s equally as frantic and hot as the last few ones—if not more.

“We—mmm—shouldn’t be—doing this,” you try to say as he carries you to the bed, although it’s hard to focus when Bakugou’s relentless in his assault on your lips, tongue determined in exploring every inch of your mouth.

“Bakugou—”

“Katsuki,” he corrects you so sourly that you’d laugh it weren’t for the fact that you’re now—quite literally—sprawled helpless underneath the man, who’s now towering over you on—

Fuck.

Mina’s bed, of all places.

“Mina’s gonna kill us if she finds out.”

He scoffs. “Mina’s the one to blame, anyway. We wouldn’t be in this situation if she didn’t abandon ship in the first place.”

At that, and despite yourself, you stiffen. “You mean—this is just—”

“There you go again. Overthinking shit.”

“I am not—”

Bakugou shuts you up with another kiss. You return it.

He pulls back, the earlier humor in his countenance now having made way for palpable seriousness. “I want this, dumbass. I’ve wanted this. Mina just happened to make it happen sooner than planned.”

“Y-you know, you’re giving Mina all the credit, when I was the one who invited you to do the costumes with me.”

“Right,” he grins, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so soft you don’t know how to react. “I guess I have to thank you, too, then.”

“Thank me by taking off your clothes,” you quip, clawing at the waistband of his pants, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Damn. Okay, princess.”

At that, Bakugou moves to take off his still-ridiculously tight shirt first by his nape, when—out of nowhere—everything hits you, and the word is already out of your mouth before you can rein it in.

“Wait.”

Bakugou freezes, top midway off his torso, revealing his mouth-watering abs and motherfucking happy trail.

You have to wrench your eyes away from them.

“I change my mind,” you clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, opting to stare blankly at the ceiling instead. “I want you to keep it on.”

“…Oh, shit.”

Your head snaps back to look at him. “What?”

To your chagrin, Bakugou only chuckles before shaking his head. “You weren’t kidding, when you—”

“If you’re just gonna shame me,” you interject, partly because you’re terrified of the remaining half of his sentence, “Then you better kiss your orgasm goodbye.”

“I’m not gonna—” he trails off, defensive, before sighing, “Jesus, you’re stubborn when you’re embarrassed.”

You harumph, arms crossed in front of your chest.

“But, fine,” he eventually says after a brief moment of silence, catching your attention. “I actually wanted to be naked with you, but if this is what you want, then I’ll keep it on.”

He seems to hesitate for a moment, before—ultimately—flashing you a not-at-all disarming smirk. “That’s what the second time is for, right?”

“S-second time?”

At your query, his sneer falters, instantly replaced with a frown. “Yeah.”

“Are we talking friends with benefits? Or…”

Now, you’d think you just accused this man of being a serial killer with how he’s looking at you with blatant offense, features contorted so painfully you’ve got half a mind to smooth down the creases on his skin.

“I’m just kiddi—”

“Seriously? Fuck buddies?”

You pout. “I was just—”

“Fuck, no. We’re gonna date,” he points between the two of you, “You and I.”

“Alright,” you affirm before he can ramble even more, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his scarred one. He immediately relaxes.

“We’re gonna date,” you parrot for confirmation, and he nods sternly, “For realsies. And we’re gonna tell the squad when it feels right.”

“I mean, if we don’t get caught fucking here tonight.”

That grants him a slap to the arm, which he takes in stride, laughing.

“I’m just fucking with you,” he snickers.

“Then quit fucking with me and just fuck me, dickhead.”

“Gladly,” he retorts with a grin, leaning in, “But there’s something I want to do first.”

That’s all the warning you get before Bakugou tugs your tank top off of you in one swift motion, momentum slightly interrupted with his scrambling to unfasten your bra a beat later, although he manages to wrangle it away from you after a few more seconds of struggle, making you laugh.

Though that laugh all but dies in your throat the moment Bakugou lifts the undergarment off your torso, finally revealing your naked breasts in front of the man, and despite yourself, you squirm under the heat of his stare, bringing a hand up to cover yourself, although you don’t even get to your stomach before he’s reaching out to restrain you, eyes never leaving your chest.

“Fuck.”

You chuckle nervously. “I hope that’s a good ‘fuck’.”

“Obviously,” he spits back, although there’s not much of a bite to it. “C-can I touch them?”

You nod. “Please. Do whatever you want.”

That makes Bakugou grin even wider, though you don’t get to focus too much on his reaction before you’re groaning at his surprisingly firm grip, his big, strong hands wasting no time in fondling and groping at your breasts. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath—a curse, maybe—although you’re too dazed to decipher what it is, mind honing into nothing but the pleasure of his deft thumbs fiddling with your now-pebbled nipples.

“Your mouth, Katsuki,” you find yourself saying a minute later, eyes fluttering closed.

“…What?”

“Use—ugh—your mouth on me.”

“Oh, right. Okay.”

Now, whatever carnality you derived from Bakugou’s hands playing with your chest suddenly pales in comparison the second his warm mouth latches onto your nipple, a sensation so foreign yet so welcome that you can’t help but moan aloud, a response that immediately earns you a hand over your lips to silence you.

“Keep quiet,” he mumbles over your chest, but not before flicking over the stiff tip with his tongue, “Or else they’re gonna find out.”

To your surprise, the very thought of being caught in the act sends a wave of pleasure down your spine, making you shudder in gross anticipation—an almost imperceptible movement any ordinary man would normally miss.

Unfortunately, Bakugou is far from ordinary.

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop in favor of peering down at you, eyes narrowed into a squint. “You’re more of a pervert than I anticipated.”

That makes you flush. “I am not a pervert.”

“Sure, princess. Whatever you say.”

“I am not a pervert!”

“Shhh,” he whispers, a snarky expression written all over his features. “The more you insist, the harder it is to believe you.”

“Okay, that’s it.”

You make a move to shove him away from you and to get out of the bed, but you don’t even get to get him to budge an inch, nor get to drag your butt a foot closer towards the edge—not when he tugs you back in your place so effortlessly, once again caging you into the mattress in between his muscled arms.

He tuts. “You never let me finish, princess. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“You’re unbelievable, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrects you again, frowning. “Now, tell me. What do you want me to do to you?”

You glare up at him. “I want you to let me go.”

“Honesty, princess. I’ve been nothing but honest with you this entire night. The least you can do is return the favor.”

“…Fine,” you eventually spew after a brief moment of silence. “I want to ride you.”

Whatever Bakugou expected you to say, it definitely wasn’t that.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, didn’t you? I said I want to ride you,” you proclaim before pausing, debating on whether or not you should say the next thing, ultimately deciding on it. “I-I’ve always wanted to ride a uniformed officer, anyway.”

Bakugou lets out a choked sound. “And you say I’m the unbelievable one.”

You huff. “Are you gonna let me, or not?”

“Jesus. Stubborn and impatient,” he laughs, before leaning back to sit on his haunches. “Okay, let’s switch places, then.”

You don’t offer a rebuttal to his suggestion, opting to merely follow suit and exchange positions, albeit begrudgingly. You don’t waste another second in pulling the remaining articles of your clothing off of you, tossing your shorts and panties to the side just as Bakugou pulls down his pants to finally reveal his hardened dick, the mere size of which causes you to swallow in nervous excitement despite yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans from where he’s now laying back on the pillows, staring at your pussy. “Look at you.”

“Look at you yourself,” you retort, absentmindedly bringing a hand to your core to spread your essence over your now throbbing clit. “You’re so big.”

“Shit, staring at my dick makes you want to play with yourself?” he laughs-coughs, raising a hand to caress your bare waist. “You’re something else.”

“Hurry up and fuck me, Katsuki,” you plead, inching your way closer to the man until you’re hovering over his naked pelvis, cock standing just a few centimeters away from where you need him the most.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to ride a uniformed officer, didn’t you? Use my dick, then. Make yourself feel good on it.”

“Okay, but if I get tired, then you—”

Whatever you were planning on saying to the ash-blonde gets rudely thrown out of the proverbial window when Bakugou—without warning—thrusts up into you, fully sheathing himself into your pussy, making you choke out a strangled moan, a moan so loud that it earns you a slap to the mouth in a feeble attempt to silence you.

“Fuck,” you cry, “You—fucking—”

“I know you want to be caught like the little pervert you are, but if you want to cum before somebody barges in on us, then keep quiet.”

To that, you can only nod in resigned confirmation before Bakugou finally starts moving, hips thrusting in a stable pace—in and out, in and out—while all you can do is bite roughly on your lips, barely managing to contain your groans.

Thankfully, Bakugou notices this sooner than later, and the moment he does, he’s scooping you closer to him until your laying flat in front of him—your naked chest firmly plastered against his tightly clothed torso—seizing your mouth into another searing kiss to silence your ever growing sounds that’s slowly rivaling the distant booming of music beyond the bedroom door.

Somehow, although in hindsight you think it’s because of Bakugou’s bruising grip on your hips, you eventually start getting a grip back on reality, opting to experimentally sway your pelvis against the man’s incessant pounding, an effort that the pro-hero immediately encourages the second his cock slips a little bit deeper inside of you, causing the both of you to groan against each others lips.

“Fuck, just like that,” he rasps, arms still circled tightly around you, “You’re doing great, princess.”

You don’t respond to the praise, letting your clenching pussy speak for itself, choosing to lean back, grab his one hand and placing it on your chest instead, while taking the other and plopping it down on your thigh. And when Bakugou only glances at you in confusion—albeit not stopping his assault on your hole—you toss him a half-lidded look, before bringing his thumb to your clit.

No further words are exchanged as realization dawns on the ash-blonde’s features, fingers immediately getting to work, rubbing alternating circles and figure-eights on your bud. Acutely aware of the fact that Bakugou can’t swallow your moans away in this position anymore, you bite on your lip—hard—the sensation—mixed with the feeling of his cock nestled deep within you and his finger playing with your clit while his other hand latches onto your bare chest—prompting your orgasm to come sooner than expected.

“Fuck, Katsuki. I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Really?” Bakugou asks—tone breathy as if he can’t believe you’re actually close and it’s all because of his doing. “Cum for me, then, baby. Be a good fucking girl and cum for me.”

And, as if emboldened by your impending climax, Bakugou doubles up on his efforts, heels digging into the firm cushion to give him further leverage to thrust up into you harder—harder than ever before, all the while pressing firmly against your clit, and it’s this mind-spinning combination that finally drives you over the edge, and you cum.

And cum.

Bakugou finishes right with you, just barely biting back a hoarse groan, hips spasming against yours as he shoots loads and loads of cum into your pussy.

You completely collapse on top of the man not too long after that, his softening dick still firmly burrowed inside of you, although neither of you make a move to remove it. You vaguely register Bakugou’s arms coming up to wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him, though you can’t find it in you to complain.

A brief moment of stillness passes between you.

It’s Bakugou, though, who ultimately breaks the silence.

“You didn’t just fuck me because I was dressed in a uniform, did you?”

“Uh…”

He jolts underneath you, snapping to look at your face. Unable to hold back, you glance up at him, laughing.

“I’m just kidding, you big idiot. I’d fuck and date you even if you were dressed as a fire hydrant.”

Bakugou huffs—borderline snorts—before lying back down onto the pillows, smiling. “Good.”

A barrage of knocks resounds from the doorway.

You and Bakugou whip to look at each other, eyes wide with alarm.

“Uh, guys?” comes a muffled voice, which you can only guess belongs to Mina, “I’m happy you two finally fucked, but come on, seriously? My bedroom?”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

#i'm crying my mom saw the title jfskjfks she probably knows i write smut now lmao. how else can a fic entitled 'too hot to handle'#play out??????#rip to me. anyway i hope y'all enjoy this lmao #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #re: bakugou katsuki #eeya.docx

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coolwyous · 2 months ago

Text

┈─★ 𝙎𝙋𝙀𝙀𝘿. [ch 1: the stupid red mustang]

➴ wc + a/n: 4.4k. didn't mean to make the first chapter this long but y'all know how i get <3 hope you enjoy the lil prologue moment!

➴ taglist: @urmom2314 @iisayfa @s-p-e-c-t-r-e-s @mei2yok @xochitlisbest

➴ prev. masterlist. next.

you can pinpoint, with expert precision, when it was that your entire life began to fall apart. to figure out how it might end, you have to start from the beginning, and a part of you wonders if it was always going to be daniela avanzini that ruined everything for you.

your last few weeks before high school, and you’re stuck in detention. it had all started with a morning full of inconveniences.

to begin, you usually carpooled with your neighbor, who happens to be your best friend, but she’s been hauled off to some stupid detention center after getting caught with weed, again, leaving you alone for the second half of senior year. friendless, aimless, and useless behind the wheel of a car as you drive yourself every morning, lucky to make it out of that chaotic parking lot alive.

the morning you got detention, you’re already running late, made all the more inconvenient when you’re cut off in the middle of the parking lot by a cherry red mustang. you lay on the horn to let her know she’s cut you off, but the boom of insanely loud rap music blaring out from the windows makes you think the driver isn’t listening.

“fucking idiot,” you snarl, your grip tightening around the steering wheel. the red mustang swings around recklessly to steal the parking spot you were eyeing. perfect.

the new girl, who had transferred into your grade just after winter break, swings out of the car and heads into the building, unbothered by the interaction. you’re stuck seeking out another parking spot, only adding to your stress of being late again.

you try to make it to your homeroom on time, but you hear the disappointed tisk of your principal’s voice as soon as you think you’re in the clear.

“y/ln, this is the third time this week,” he had told you, writing something on a slip and handing it to you. “you know this means detention, and the next one is a truancy call, right?”

you grit your teeth and send a text to your parents that you’ll be home late. definitely not ideal.

you’d rather be anywhere but this empty classroom, embarrassed to be stuck under the hawk-eyed gaze of the dean. it’s you and a few other kids you recognize from fights or from skipping class. you try to keep to yourself, after all, being late doesn’t exactly fit into what the rest of these troublemakers get up to, but your hopes of focusing on your homework are shattered when you feel someone kick your desk.

then again, then again. you realize the person is bouncing their leg, and it’s causing your chair to shake with every movement.

“avanzini, another speeding ticket in the parking lot or what?” one of the guys grins, to which the dean quickly hushes everyone. you realize he’s talking to the girl behind you, the one shaking your desk. the new girl— avanzini, or whatever her name is. you’re perfectly happy with a small friend group, and hadn't made it a point to introduce yourself to her since she transferred, but judging by the fact that she seems to be a regular detention attendee, maybe that’s for the best.

nearly a half hour passes, but she’s relentless. her leg doesn’t stop bouncing, even once, rocking your chair the entire time. the dean steps out to take a phone call. you’re sick of her incessant kicking against the back of your desk, and finally spin around to snap at her.

“can you please cut that out?”

your eyes meet, and you feel a jolt through your entire body. the way she grins at you, her hazel eyes lighting up, is nothing short of absolutely dangerous.

“i gotta be somewhere real quick. vouch for me?”

“why would i do that?” you ask quickly, shocked by audacity.

all she does is lean in, flashing those bright white teeth at you, unafraid of being in your personal bubble, as if she has no boundaries. “i’ll owe you.”

“i’ll get in trouble,” you state the obvious.

“i’ll owe you a massive favor,” she presses on, and it’s painfully obvious she’s not the type who is used to being told no.

“just go,” you shake your head. she doesn’t seem like the type you can reason with, this avanzini girl.

you expect her to leave through the front door, so to your surprise, she bolts towards the window and messes with the hinges for a few moments before she manages to get it open. way too quickly, she slips out of the window without a second look back. you’re almost annoyed, that she sneaks out without so much as a thank you, but maybe she’s not worth the effort to stress over being annoyed with.

a few minutes pass by, and the dean steps back in. he takes count quickly of the bodies in the room, and notices the spot behind you obviously empty.

“where’s avanzini?”

“bathroom,” you lie quickly. the other students shoot you approving looks, but you’d rather disappear than to have them acknowledging you. the fact that you’re in this position because of this girl has you even more frustrated than the whole chair-kicking thing.

the dean steps out once more to search the hallways, and within moments, the girl is tumbling back into the classroom, chest heaving. she’s breathing heavily as if she’s been running, or maybe something had scared her, or even both. she slips back into her chair, dropping her head onto the desk for a quick moment before lifting up to meet your eyes with her own. there’s something so intense in her eyes, something so mischievous and alluring at once, that you feel your pulse quicken.

“i owe you,” she says simply, flashing you a smile, before dropping her head back onto the desk for the rest of the hour.

after that day, you see the red mustang in your school parking lot, but never cross paths with the girl again.

your best friend misses graduation, and you feel suffocated by the weight of another summer in your city alone, wasting your days trying to keep busy. you disappear once the summer ends, college taking over your life, the city forgotten for the next year until you’re back a summer later. same house, same routine, now a year older and a year wiser, hoping you can make it through the boredom of the summer before you head back to school.

your parents had kept your room exactly how you left it in high school, but there’s something very lame about being stuck a whole summer again in your parents house after a taste of freedom your first year in college. you know it’s only 3 months, and you’re lucky to have a place to come back to, but it’s still fair to be annoyed by, isn’t it?

you had just finished unpacking the last of your suitcases when you hear the thud of something against your window, a few taps in a specific pattern against the glass. living on the first floor, you there’s only one person who would be in your backyard, tapping against your window like that. you gasp and swing the window open, just like how you had done almost every day for the past 13 years.

and slipping into your bedroom is your best friend since you were 6 years old, smiling at you in a way that makes everything feel like it’ll be okay.

“heard you’re back in town,” she says nonchalantly, but you’re already scooping her up in a hug before she can ruin the moment.

“megan,” your heart thuds at the sight of her. pink bangs covering her tired eyes, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, she’s exactly like you last remembered her. ”i thought i’d be stuck all summer without you.”

“you know, i was almost scared they wouldn’t let me out. good thing the judge was feeling super chill about bail,” megan grins, giving you a squeeze back, pointing down to the ankle monitor around her leg. “did you miss me, nerd?”

“you’re a whole ass adult now, idiot. this isn’t just juvie upgraded,” you laugh. “how’ve you been?”

“oh you know,” she shrugs. she digs around your nightstand and finds the secret book the two of you had hollowed out to hide your weed from your nosy family, a few pre-rolled joints hiding. she pulls a lighter out from the fold of her beanie, lighting the joint for the both of you. “remember how i told you i moved out after graduation? i have a spot in front of the shop that my boss rents out to me. it’s not too bad. you should come check it out. we can throw a party or something while you’re here.”

“ugh, i’m not gonna know how to act without you as my neighbor,” you groan and throw your head back, reaching for the joint as she takes a few hits and passes it to you. “you’re finally back and you won’t even be next door any more. i might actually miss you, loser.”

“i’ll miss you too. you kept me out of trouble,” she laughs. “my mom was so mad when you moved away for school. knew i was gonna end up doing stupid shit.”

“well, you’ve got me for 3 months, stay out of trouble until then?” you plead. “can’t go losing you. maybe i’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

you and megan had always joked about the curse that had followed her around— this beacon of bad luck, if something can go wrong for her, it usually would. you’ve tried to argue that she’d have better luck if she stopped making all these dumb decisions, but megan’s pretty set in her ways, and even if you worry about her, you know she’s scrappy enough to figure her way out of anything.

“you can come hang out with me at work. it’s slow,” she offers, taking the joint back from you. you watch as she inhales and holds it, doing silly little tricks with the smoke. “the other guys bring their friends all the time when the shop isn’t busy.”

“i won’t annoy you?” you ask. you know the job she’s talking about— megan, who had always been too hyper for any job that didn’t keep her constantly moving, got hired to work at some shady mechanic shop downtown through some burnout friends of hers. this was perfect for your best friend, who was always fidgeting with things, breaking them down, putting them back together, and the owner had even taken her under his wing and looked the other way with her track record. between the shop job and selling weed, megan kept herself decently afloat.

you wonder if she’d ever be able to channel that energy into something more, but you know that’s a conversation she won’t want to hear.

“hell, you might even make some money. my boss is hiring— he wants a front desk person,” she tells you, nudging your shoulder. “i’ll put in a good word for you.”

“you want to be coworkers?” you question. “what, like we’re friends or something?”

megan pretends to gag, and the two of you laugh and pass the joint between yourselves for the rest of the night, chatting about her night in jail, comparing it to her months spent in juvie as a teenager. you tell her about college, about the friends you’ve made, and you take comfort in knowing that if you’re stuck back home for a summer, at least you get to be stuck with megan too.

the next day, you’re at velocity automotives, painfully overdressed, talking to the owner and wondering how the hell this place hasn’t gotten shut down yet. it’s messy, tools strewn everywhere, and there’s no clear organization to how anything is set up. without a doubt in your mind, the messiness suits megan, who you see underneath a car in her navy blue coveralls as you talk to her boss about this job she’s setting you up with.

“all you have to do is take phone calls and book the appointments. i’ll handle the rest,” the guy says. he had introduced himself as viper, and at first, you thought he was joking— that is, until literally everyone there keeps calling him “viper,” and you realize he’s dead serious.

“you won’t be here?” you ask.

“i have other businesses in the city. i own apartments, laundromats, storage units.” he squints at you. “can’t be on desk duty the whole time.”

you nod, and hear a clanging noise somewhere behind you that makes you flinch. viper seems completely unbothered and keeps talking.

“it’s an easy job, so don’t expect to be a millionaire.” he goes on. “and the guys will probably hit on you. just ignore them.”

you grimace, but the pay is decent, and the job is easy enough, plus anything that keeps you busy while letting you spend time with your best friend sounds like a huge win.

“there’s one more thing,” he says. “i need you to stay in the apartment, above the shop.”

the request catches you insanely off guard. “why?”

“some bullshit from the city,” he gripes. “i have to prove it’s a residence or else they’ll make me pay taxes on it as part of the business.”

“you’re offering me a job and a place to stay?” you question. “what’s the catch?”

“didn’t think you’d sound so eager. you’ve got grit, kid. maybe you are skeindiel’s friend after all,” he grins, before issuing another warning. “it’s not luxurious, and those motorheads get loud at night.”

“um, i grew up on sleepovers with megan. that girl snores like she’s dying,” you reassure him. the arrangement is almost too good to be true.

“how soon can you start?” he asks.

“how soon can i move in?” you counter.

viper smiles once more, a gold tooth shining in his grin. “welcome to velocity. i think you’ll fit right in.”

“why the hell are you dodging all my calls?” megan asks you after you finally pick up after her 6th call of the night. she sounds exasperated, and sure, you could have used her help lugging the few suitcases of your belongings up the stairs, but the surprise you’re about to give her is worth the evasion.

“look outside,” you tell her simply, pulling back the blinds on your window.

“what exactly am i looking for?” she asks, and you can see her nose wrinkle confusedly over the facetime call. this is one of the things you love about megan, her simplicity, her occasional cluelessness— hell, she was so focused on working on that damn car from today, she didn’t notice you slipping in and out of the door as she worked, moving all your stuff into the building literally right over her head as she tinkered away.

“hi neighbor,” you grin out your window.

“no way.” megan flashes a bright smile at you from her window as she spins around, her eyes meeting yours. your places are just a block away from each other, and you’re able to see her through the window, clear as day.

“this is so cool,” you say, admiring the place. sure, it’s just as dingy as viper had warned you, but for a studio, it beat a dorm room, and it way beat living with your parents for another summer. “we should go thrift furniture together. my place is empty as hell.”

“did you get a mattress up the stairs by yourself?” she asks.

“uh, no. there was one in there,” you answer awkwardly.

“y/n, fuck no, sleep on the couch or something,” megan’s eyes nearly bug out of her head on screen, making you laugh. “who knows what’s been done on that mattress.”

“okay, like the couch is gonna be any cleaner,” you roll your eyes, but you make a mental note to prioritize a new bed. “hey, what’s viper’s real name?

megan shrugs. “i dunno. never asked. just assumed his mom loved him enough to name him something badass like that.”

“you’re so dumb,” you laugh.

“wanna come over?” she offers, and you hear the flick of a lighter. it’s the megan you know, constantly smoking, to the point that the sound brings you comfort. “you can spend the night, we can get you a blow up mattress or something tomorrow.”

“and watch you play grand theft auto while you hotbox me out?” you laugh, gathering a few of your things into a backpack. “fine, i guess. see you in a sec, neighbor.”

your first week on the job goes mostly without a hitch.

part of that is mostly thanks to megan, who’s made it her personal mission to make sure you don’t quit within a week, and that starts with making sure all her coworkers leave you the fuck alone.

“how long til you let the first one of us hit?” one of the younger guys asked, tapping his fingers against your desk, knocking the cup of pens off the table with the vibrations.

“aw bro, if she already let viper hit to get this job, i don’t wanna get in on his sloppy seconds.” the other one eggs on, and you grit your teeth trying to ignore them both as you clean up the spilled pens. you’re hoping the silent treatment will be enough of a hint to leave you alone, but thankfully, you don’t have to wait around and find out.

megan is slinking through in front of your desk, shoulder checking the first guy out of her way and reaching to grab the second one by his collar. her grease-smeared fingers grip tightly onto his shirt as she yanks him towards her, and you can see the surprise in everyone’s faces at how fast she’s turned this into something bigger.

“talk to her like that again and i’ll crush you under the fucking car jack,” megan threatens, her voice cold and even, her head lazily rolling back and forth to stare between the two of them.

“damn bro, relax,” the guy holds his hands up, trying to prove he’s no threat. “didn’t know you were sober enough to be listening, skiendiel.”

“wish i could be high enough to tune your annoying ass out,” she grits irritatedly. she drops her grip on his shirt, and by that point, half the shop is busy staring at you, but she clearly isn’t bothered. “if anyone else pisses off y/n again, we’re going to have a fucking problem.”

“i can fend for myself,” you tell her, mildly frustrated. if she’d just let you ignore them—

“i know,” she says simply, scooping your pens all back into the cup and handing them back to you. “but i made a promise.”

“we were like, 12, meg,” you remind her.

she shrugs, reaching behind you to grab another key off the keyring, starting on her next car. “promise is a promise.”

you shake your head, but leave it at that. you’ll unpack that night another time, your promise with megan to always look out for each other, but for now, you’ll be secretly grateful— the other guys in the shop leave you alone from that day on.

you haven’t figured out the mattress situation, but it isn’t the worst thing in the world. between naps on your couch and crashing at megan’s, you’ve gotten into a cozy enough routine that makes you think your time back home might not be all that bad. sure, viper was unfortunately right about the noise, but you’ve learned to predict the patterns of when the cars will pull up and disrupt your night.

megan’s usually too high to care, or she’ll be too busy playing video games to be bothered, but she’s never really batted an eye at the revving, claiming the noise calms her. you’ll peek out the window just to keep an eye on things, and you’re starting to pick up on a pattern. in the parking lot of the autobody shop, usually around 9pm, you’ll see a bunch of cars pull in and circle around each other.

among them, a bright red mustang.

“hi, thanks for visiting velocity automotives.” your line is too easy at this point, after nearly two weeks of the job being steady and predictable. “what services are you looking for?”

usually, it’s tune ups and oil changes, maybe a tire rotation or a trouble shoot, but about a week after you started, you start to hear the phrase: “i’m here to see megan.”

and that’s it. viper told you that for any appointment where they ask for megan, take down their info, and open the “special schedule.” it’s weird that he’s having you start this, and he changes megan’s schedule while he’s at it, but she doesn’t seem to bothered. it almost starts to feel like it’s code for something, i’m here to see megan, but the girl herself isn’t raising any flags for you.

“what exactly is it that you do?” you ask, hanging back one day to join her for one of those evening sessions. “and how come you only take appointments after 6pm? isn’t it kinda random that you’re the only person that has to work a night shift?”

“i like motorcycles better, honestly,” she tells you, her tongue poking out from her lips in focus as she leans over the hood of her current project, tinkering with the engine. “i’m just good at mods. viper thinks it makes more sense for me to work nights and do only mods instead of waste time doing oil changes. leave the easy stuff to the idiots.”

“‘cause you’re just that good or what?” you tease.

“i’m just that good,” she grins back. “and he’s paying me good shit too. not a bad deal, honestly.”

“all to make people’s cars look cooler?” you question, watching as she gets into the driver’s seat and cranks the key. the engine rumbles, and then revs like a creature coming to life. megan’s eyes light up like a kid at christmas at the sound.

“make them look cooler, sound louder, drive faster. you’d get it if you cared about cars, y/n, but i guess you’ve always been a loser,” she teases, giving the engine another rev.

“i’ll leave the car shit to you,” you laugh.

you hear the ring of the door opening, and the response comes out like you’re on autopilot. you’re too busy trying to decipher viper’s weird ass text about ordering more parts (since when was that part of your job?) to bother looking up.

“hi, thanks for visiting velocity automotives,” you say quickly.

“you.”

the voice is familiar, strangely so. you finally look up, and piercing into you is none other than that intense, sharp hazel stare. she’s grinning, wider and wider the longer the two of you lock eyes. her tongue peeks out quickly to swipe along her bottom teeth, the gesture cocky and eager all at once.

“and here i was heartbroken thinking i’d never see your face again,” she smirks, leaning over the countertop to tilt her head down and meet your gaze. her keychain dangles from the tip of her finger, inches away from your face. you feel paralyzed, and that stare, confident and unbreaking, makes it even harder to form a coherent thought.

“service?” you finally breathe.

you remember her clear as day, even with it being over a year now since your detention together. avanzini, with the red mustang and that dangerous crooked smile.

“i’m here for megan,” she says easily, pointing behind you at the mechanics hard at work within the shop.

“she’ll only take mods after 6 pm,” you inform her.

avanzini raises her eyebrow, a perfect arched brow. she gives you a quick once-over, and you feel exposed under her gaze. “will you be there?”

“no,” you say quickly.

“damn shame,” she clicks her teeth, tapping her fingers on the counter. “set me up for her next opening. please.”

“she can fit you in tomorrow,” you offer, checking the off-hours schedule.

“what’s your name?” she pivots quickly, as if she didn’t even hear your question. her eyes are so, so intense scanning over you, like some sort of predator sizing you up. “you never told me, that day, you know.”

“y/n,” you yield quickly, almost hoping the conversation can end now. “do you want that appointment or not?”

“why won’t you be there?” she presses on, leaning in further again. it reminds you of your first meeting, the way she invades your bubble as if she has no concept of personal space.

“uh, i don’t spend all my time at work,” you state, as if it’s obvious.

“so then what are you doing tonight?” she asks quickly, arching a brow.

“um-” you’re not fast enough to come up with a response before she’s jumping in, cutting you off again, tapping her fingertips inches away from yours to get your attention.

“come to a car show. by the amusement park next to the pier,” she tells you quickly, one more glance up and down. “dress up. they’ll have drinks and music, and a shit ton of cool cars.”

you don’t know what possesses you to even consider it, but your brain goes foggy with how close she is to you, the pure magnetic pull she exudes. the words leave your mouth before you can even think to catch up with your mouth.

“will you be there?”

she grins, tongue poking out from behind those perfect white teeth. “of course i’ll be there.”

“i’ll think about it,” you say simply.

“don’t break my heart, okay?” she puts a hand to her chest, pouting exaggeratedly at you. “i’m counting on you. don’t think i forgot about what i owe you. i’m good on my word, alright?”

realizing you only know her by her last name, your next words slip out just as quickly as your first one had.

“what’s your name?”

“you know my name,” she responds too easily, and your chest pounds in response.

there’s a beat of silence between the two of you, as she keeps eyeing you, and you wonder what could possibly left of you that she’s looking for. she grins one last time, pushing off the countertop to finally get out of your bubble.

“daniela. you can put me down for tomorrow, 7pm,” she adds. she swings the keychain one last time on the first knuckle of her index finger, before catching it in her hand and slinking out the door, like a shadow slipping back into the night. “but i’ll see you, tonight, y/n.”

you feel your heart race. if that smile is enough to go off of, trouble might just have found you.

#katseye x reader #daniela avanzini x reader #megan skiendiel x reader #daniela x reader #megan x reader #daniela katseye #megan katseye #daniela avanzini #katseye megan #megan skiendiel #katseye daniela #☆ﾟ coolwyous SPEED.

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windixie · 3 months ago

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the perfect pair ⟢ ch. 1 broken cd

satoru gojo x reader ꒰18+꒱ smut, angst, fluff

⟡ pairing . college au soccer player! gojo x alt! reader

› summary . in which opposites actually attract. you're not the kind of girl who seeks validation from anyone as your world is surrounded by indie films, music, and clothing. meanwhile, satoru lives in a completely different world from you. the campus soccer star who practically radiates confidence and popularity. but that doesn't stop satoru from attempting to throw himself at you, with his playful grins and teasing but loving comments. but before you can accept his advances, a certain party exposes who he truly is and now he is left determined to change himself for you.

› warnings ⓘ tags . 18+, fem! reader, smut, angst, fluff, college au (have syracuse university in mind), friends to lovers (reader hates him, he thinks otherwise), slow burn, jealousy, some suguru x reader because he doesn't respect bro code or wtv.

› wc . 1.1k

⟡ taglist . @unreleasedlana11

cd's are actually expensive.

well at least for you actually, only because you happen to listen to artists that are no longer active and have to buy discontinued cd's through sketchy websites that definitely overcharge. you couldn't judge though, easy money for the seller. your bank account disagrees.

you promise yourself that this will be the last cd you buy - till you're financially stable again. the disc nearly cost you 60 bucks plus taxes and shipping, 80.99. that greedy seller. regardless you were happy especially when you got the notification from the app telling you that your order has arrived.

at your college you had to walk all the way towards the front where the school mailboxes were located. the second you stepped foot outside your dorm, which, thankfully you had all to yourself because for some reason you weren't assigned a roommate, you are hit with the sound of cheering. the soccer team has just returned from a tournament.

including satoru gojo.

you knew of the boy. you knew he was the most known player in the school. and i'm not just talking about soccer. in each frat party he has to get in at least two bodies. he has a whole line of girls patiently waiting for their turn to warm up the white haired boys bed.

he's everything.. you hated in a guy.

how do girls go crazy over him? he's deadass the most basic boy you are sure each college in the state has. but you couldn't help but stay a bit to watch as all the boys make their way through the applauding crowd. a new face emerged from the bus, all looking proud. they must've won.

you were pulled away from your thoughts when his face appeared. suguru. he was best friends with gojo. you can't help but stare. his piercings, long hair, style that was different from the rest, just like you. it's hard to not notice him.

you almost don't realize who's looking at you instead. your eyes meet with satoru for a brief moment before you continue making your way to the central mail room, not allowing your brain to even process the eye contact.

as he made his way out the busy, satoru is met with a crowd of students cheering. he smirks as he kept the conversation going with his friends. he knows how attractive he is. not every one is 'blessed' to have a body count of half the schools girl population.

he knows how good he is. so why is it that when his eyes land on you, his heart skips a beat. he's never seen you before, why now? why does he like the way your hair frames your face so beautifully and the way your outfit compliments your body so well?

he felt his world stop for just a second when your eyes finally met his. a split second.

you unlocked your assigned mailbox after reaching the central. other students were there as well looking at letters from their family back at home or the same reason as you, a package. your eyes lit up as you took out the perfectly wrapped cd. .

not wasting one more second, you carefully unwrap it. here it is, finally in your hands after a month of waiting and two days worth of hard labor. the light reflected like heaven itself shining upon you from the glossy surface. you flipped it over, reading through the track list as you locked your mailbox once again not even bothering to check if there's any other letters in your box.

right as you turned, you bumped into something hard, causing your cd to slip from your hands, the sound of it hitting the floor haunting you.

it broke.

and so did your heart.

no. no way.

a month of waiting. money wasted. just for the cd to slip right out your hands.

okay you're being dramatic, it obviously didn't break. but the impact caused the case to open once it fell on the floor. the cd might just have a few scratches. one scratch is one scratch too many though.

"shit, sorry about that."

you lifted up your head to look at the one responsible for this.

satoru.

the satoru himself was in front of you giving you another reason to dislike him. he looked at you with his eyes widening a bit. its you. the girl he saw from earlier. he crouched down, placing his bag on the ground next to his feet to pick up your disc, carefully placing it back in the case. definitely not a band he was familiar with.

he handed it back to you, his hand touching yours slightly.

"here pretty, am sorry again."

your eyes narrowed. "It’s fine," you said, trying to keep your cool. "Not like you can fix it."

his eyes watched you push past him and they trailed past you until you were out of his view.

he finally got the chance to talk to you which he's been wanting to do since he's know you which was only like 20 minutes.

he couldn't help but smile to himself as he opened up his own mailbox, stuffed with fan mail.

a few scratches as you suspected. it shouldn't affect your listening experience.

you placed the now damaged disc in your cd player which was gifted to you by your parents on your sixteenth birthday. the music filled up your room in a nice and warm space.

you sank down on your mattress closing your eyes to enjoy the listening experience. no amount of scratched could ruin this.

they did.

your eyes shot open as the cd started to tweak out not even three minutes into the track list. guess the damage really was done. its all his fault. satoru gojo.

"no..please.." you begged taking out the cd to look at it again seeing that you missed a crack running right through it.

it was all his fault. you barely knew him but now that you had your first ever encounter you had all the reason to despise him. there's no way you will be able to listen to your 80.99 worth cd with there being glitching every other song.

you couldn’t shake the image of satoru standing there, his awkward attempt at helping, the way his gaze had softened for a brief moment. you'd make him buy you a new one, that being if the discontinued cd was even out there anymore.

what if you bought the last one ever?

you groaned into your pillow.

that's it you're throwing a bf.

a bitch fit.

#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #smut #choso kamo #geto suguru #gojo smut #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #soccer au #college au #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo jjk #jujustu kaisen

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munchkinchild · 1 year ago

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Okay, since we're once again playing the "Nesta has to apologise for every single thing she's ever done wrong in her life" game, I thought I'd make a list of nearly everything Feyre has apologise for when it comes to Nesta;

- I'm sorry for insulting the way you looked when you were born saying you had a sneer on your face when I literally didn't exist.

"She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for cooking for us every night since Elain and I didn't know how to.

"We dined on roasted venison that night." ACOTAR CH.2

"Heat. I can't cook" ACOMAF CH.54 (Proof that she can't cook)

- I'm sorry for insinuating that you are a horrible person and that our mother realised that on her death bed.

"Or maybe impending death had given her some clarity about the true nature of her children, her husband." ACOTAR CH. 1

- I'm sorry for judging you for trying to befriend the village people because your old friends ignore you.

"Since we had lost our fortune, their former friends dutifully ignored them, so my sisters paraded about as though the young peasants of the town made up a second-rate social circle." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for making fun of you, telling you you can't and calling you a burden for wanting to marry an abuser to help the family when I literally said a few paragraphs before how much I was looking forward to you and Elain leaving so I could be alone.

"Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colors and shapes down on paper or canvas or the cottage walls." ACOTAR CH.1

“Believe me,” I said to her, “the day you want to marry someone worthy, I’ll march up to his house and hand you over. But you’re not going to marry Tomas.” ACOTAR CH.2

"If Nesta wanted to leave, then fine. Good. I’d be one step closer to attaining that glorious, peaceful future, to attaining a quiet house and enough food and time to paint." ACOTAR CH.2

"While Tomas might want to marry you … you’re a burden.” ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for caring about my safety with the mercenary after you had been robbed.

“They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.” ACOTAR CH. 3

//“Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—”

“Why didn’t you report him—or tell me?”

“What could you have done?” Nesta sneered. “Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?”

“What about your Tomas Mandray?” I said coolly."// ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for pushing you away when you showed concern for me sleeping with Isaac.

“I do hope you two are taking precautions.”

“It’s a bit late to pretend to care,” I said." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for complaining about not being included when all I do is exclude myself and judge what you bought with the tiny amount of money I gave you.

"I watched my sisters whispering and laughing together. They’d spent every copper I’d given them—on what, I didn’t know, though Elain had brought back a new chisel for our father’s wood carving." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for almost scolding you for not being able to afford new boots and a cloak when I literally judged you for wanting a new one

"The cloak and boots they’d whined about the night before had been too expensive. But I hadn’t scolded them for it, not when Nesta went out a second time to chop more wood without my asking." ACOTAR CH. 3

-I'm sorry for saying you wouldn't protect me and then in the same sentence say that I know it's because you know that I can fight my own battles.

"I knew—with a sudden, uncoiling clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles." ACOTAR CH. 4

- I'm sorry for saying that you were probably happy that I was gone and hoping I had been eaten so you could get attention when you were literally hiking alone trying to cross the wall to find me and save me.

"Nesta must be stretching her legs and smiling at the extra room. She was probably content imagining me in the belly of a faerie—probably using the news as a chance to be fussed over by the villagers." ACOTAR CH. 7

- I'm sorry for trying to put blame on you when you were telling me how you think our father forgets that he literally neglected all of us.

“There are days,” Nesta said as she paused in front of the door to her room, across from mine, “when I want to ask him if he remembers the years he almost let us starve to death.”

“You spent every copper I could get, too,” I reminded her." ACOTAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for blaming you for not teaching me how to read and write when that was never your responsibility, I never told you and I should've been able to do that because I was 8 when we lost our fortune. I'm also sorry for assuming that your level of reading would be better than mine since I admitted that our mother neglected our schooling.

"Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder sisters, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn’t bother to teach me. I could read enough to function—enough to form my letters, but so poorly that even signing my name was mortifying." ACOTAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for telling Ianthe everything about you, including where you lived, which ended in her being able to kidnap you and force you into the cauldron.

"I’d told her about the village, and the house my sisters now lived in, about Isaac Hale and Tomas Mandray. I hadn’t been able to mention Clare Beddor—or what had happened to her family." ACOMAF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for telling the IC that you only cared about money and social standing.

“I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing." ACOMAF CH. 16

- I'm sorry for telling Rhys that I would make you and Elain help the fae with their problems and even consider asking Rhys to force you to help the fae.

//"They might not be happy about it, but I’ll make Elain and Nesta do it.”

"I didn’t have the nerve to ask Rhys if he could simply force my family to agree to help us if they refused. I wondered if his powers would work on Nesta when even Tamlin’s glamour had failed against her steel mind."// ACOMAF CH. 19

- I'm sorry for showing up unannounced to the house with a group of dangerous men and immediately expecting you to be okay with it.

Chapter 23 of ACOMAF ~ it's too long to post.

- I'm sorry for leaving you both to clean up after I'd insulted the food and let complete strangers openly judge you.

//“Is there something wrong with our food?” she said flatly.

I made myself take another bite, each movement of my jaw an effort. “No.” I swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water.

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’s fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise.

And though Nesta had let me use this house, though she’d tried to cross the wall for me and we’d worked out a tentative truce, the tone, the disgust and disapproval …

I laid my hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”// ACOMAF CH. 24

//"Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely."// ACOMAF CH. 24

"My sisters cleaned the dishes while we worked, and had excused themselves to bed hours before, mentioning where to find our rooms." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for calling you a creature after Rhys insulted you and saying it's the kindest thing I could say about you.

“Nesta is a delight, by the way.”

“She’s … her own creature,” I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about her." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for not standing up for you when Rhys claimed that only Elain cares about me and that it's your fault for not protecting me.

"Rhys didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I didn’t think I could get through that dinner.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been rather … calm. Contained.

“Your sisters mean well, or one of them does. But seeing them, sitting at that table … I hadn’t realized it would hit me as strongly. How young you were. How they didn’t protect you.”

“I managed just fine.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for saying that you let me go into the woods when you aren't my mother or responsible for me.

“But if I hadn’t gone into those woods, if they hadn’t let me go out there alone …" ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for allowing Rhys to say he can't look at you without wanting to roar at you when he doesn't know a single thing about you.

“but it will be a long while yet before I can look at your sisters without wanting to roar at them.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for comparing the anger I felt about Eris and the nail in Mor to Rhys hating you for your "failings"

"And I understood—why Rhys could not endure Nesta for more than a few moments, why he could not let go of that anger where her failings were concerned, even if I had." ACOMAF CH. 41

- I'm sorry for forcing you to help in a war you had no original part in and for telling Rhys I would make our desperation obvious so they're manipulated into helping.

//"Let me figure out how to deal with both of them, as family, but mostly as their High Lady.

Mor’s face tightened, but I shook my head. “I can—ask my sisters. See if they have any sort of power. See if they’d be willing to … talk to others about what they endured. But I won’t force them to help, if they do not wish to participate. The choice will be theirs.” I glanced at my mate—the male who had always presented me with a choice not as a gift, but as my own gods-given right. Rhys’s violet eyes flickered in acknowledgment. “But I’ll make our … desperation clear.”// ACOWAR CH. 16

- I'm sorry for repeatedly asking you to tell complete strangers what happened to you in the cauldron after you had said no several times and I'm sorry for trying to abuse my power as High Lady to manipulate you into telling your story

//“And we might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords—to provide testimony to other courts and allies of what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you.”

“No.”

“You don’t mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?”

Nesta’s mouth tightened. “No.”

High Lady or sister; sister or High Lady … “People’s lives might depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend upon it.”

She gripped the arms of her chair, as if restraining herself. “Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no.”

I angled my head. “I understand that what happened to you was horrible—”

“You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would have gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I’m not going to tell them that story—my story.”

“The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness—”

Nesta shoved her chair back, chucking her napkin on her plate, gravy soaking through the fine linen. “Then it is not my problem if you’re unreliable. I’ll help you with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf.”// ACOWAR CH. 18

- I'm sorry for trying to force you to train when you said multiple times you didn't want to.

"But then I said, “Why won’t you train with Cassian?”

Nesta’s spine locked up. “Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?”

“Azriel?”

“Him, or the blond one who won’t shut up.”

“If you’re referring to Mor—”

“And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.”

“It could make you strong—”

“There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.” ACOWAR CH. 24

- I'm sorry for telling you off for not being respectful to the healer when you were rightfully annoyed that no one was helping Elain, accusing you of barking at them and snapping at you to "be quiet" when you were worried.

//“How.” The word was barely more than a barked command.

I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

The healer’s tone made my sister stiffen, but Madja was already hobbling for the front door. She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.” Then she was gone.

I whirled on Nesta. “A little respect, Nesta—”

“Call another healer.”

“Not if you’re going to bark them out of the house.”

“Call another healer.”

I caught Lucien’s eye. “Would you try it?”

Nesta snarled, “Don’t you even attempt—”

“Be quiet,” I snapped.

Nesta blinked.

I bared my teeth at her. “He will try. And if he doesn’t find anything amiss, we’ll consider bringing another healer.”// ACOWAR CH. 28

- I'm sorry for winnowing away when we were going somewhere together, leaving you with a man you felt uncomfortable around and calling me doing that "sisterly payback" because you're attitude was not what I wanted it to be.

"Ready for some flying, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

I chose that moment to winnow to the skies above the House, chuckling as wind carried me through the world. Some sisterly payback, I supposed. For Nesta’s general attitude." ACOWAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for not believing you when you told me that we weren't safe, telling you that because the others don't think anything is wrong, it's all fine.

“We need to leave,” Nesta said. “Right now.”

Every sense went on alert. “Why?”

“It feels wrong. Something feels wrong.”

I studied her, the clear sky beyond the towering, drape-framed windows. “Rhys and the others would sense it. You’re likely just picking up on all the power gathered here.”

“Something is wrong,” Nesta insisted.

“I’m not doubting you feel that way but … If none of the others are picking it up—” ACOWAR CH. 47

- I'm sorry for telling you that I would build a shower for you after you told me you can't take baths anymore and then never doing anything.

Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.”

I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water …

I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.” ACOWAR CH. 52

- I'm sorry for judging where you spend your time.

"Nesta shrugged. “She could have eaten with me here.”

“You know Elain wouldn’t feel comfortable in a place like this.”

She arched a well-groomed brow. “A place like this? What sort of place is that?” ACOFAS CH. 13

- I'm sorry for forcing you to come to a religious holiday you don't celebrate and judging the place you want to celebrate in. And then trying to use our father's death as a way to guilt you into coming.

//"Finally, my sister looked back at me. “So you’re bribing me, then?”

I didn’t flinch. “I’m seeing if you’re willing to be reasoned with. If there’s a way to make it worth your while.”

Nesta planted the tip of her pointer finger atop her stack of cards and fanned them out across the table. “It’s not even our holiday. We don’t have holidays.”

“Perhaps you should try it. You might enjoy yourself.”

“As I told Elain: you have your lives, and I have mine.”

Again, I cast a pointed glance to the tavern. “Why? Why this insistence on distancing yourself?”

She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to be a part of your merry little band?”

“You’re my sister.”

Again, that empty, cold look.

I waited.

“I’m not going to your party,” she said."//

//“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”// ACOWAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for withholding your rent unless you came to an event you didn't feel comfortable coming to and then when you came, ignoring you and being insulted you didn't get me a gift when I didn't get you one.

//She swigged from her glass. “It’s due next week. In case you forgot.”

I said flatly, “Come to Solstice and I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”// ACOFAS CH. 13

//"It occurred to me only when she said the words that none of the gifts in this room had Nesta’s name on them."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nothing from Nesta, but I didn’t care. Not one bit."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nesta watched warily from her chair, Elain’s present—her only present—in her lap."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//“Here.”

Nesta half turned toward me, focus darting to what was in my hand. The small slip of paper.

The banker’s note for her rent. And then some.

“As promised,” I said.

For a moment, I prayed she wouldn’t take it. That she would tell me to tear it up."// ACOFAS CH. 20

- I'm sorry for not saying anything when Amren openly slut shamed you.

“Though I bet it’s hard to look good,” Amren went on, “when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”

Feyre whipped her head to the High Lord’s Second. Rhys seemed inclined to agree with Amren. ACOSF CH. 1

-I'm sorry for telling you that you embarrassed "my family" when you're my sister.

Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends—my family—had to hear all about it?”

Nesta hated that word. The term Feyre used to describe her court. As if things had been so miserable with the Archeron family that Feyre had needed to find another one." ACOSF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for painting everyone but you and then only painting you when I decided that you had earned it.

//"Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family.

There were none of Nesta, naturally.// ACOSF CH. 1

//"She’d joined them at the river house one night to find a mating present from Feyre waiting for her. Hanging on the wall in the grand entry.

A portrait of Nesta, holding the line at the Pass of Enalius."// ACOSF CH. 80

-I'm sorry for telling you that I would tie you up and force you to go to the House of Wind when I myself should know what it feels like to be locked up against my will.

"You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there." ACOSF CH. 2

I can go on...

#pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron deserves better #anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti sjm #anti inner circle #anti feyre #high queen nesta

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one-idea · 1 year ago

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Here's an idea: time travel fix it, but the time traveller is Zeff.

Casually fixing what he can for his Eggplant's future Nakama, like bribing Mihawk with a nice wine to mention what Arlong is up to to Jimbe.

I love a time travel fix it with an unlikely hero. Because the Strawhats have a lot of information about what needs to be fixed. Their time travel fix it’s make sense. But the fun ones are their allies who know major events but don’t know everything.

(I saw someone try this with Mihawk and like the man only knows major events that the strawhats get into. Also he’s way more likely just to show up and watch the chaos while drinking wine.)

Zeff being sent back is so fun. 1) he’s a great character who obviously loves Sanji and would want to do what’s best for him. But also 2) he has no idea what half the inciting incidents are! How will he ever know what to stop?

He does have some information though. So let’s say he gets dropped 21 years in the past. He’s still a pirate. Ohara was just burnt last year and Rodger died 3 years ago (fact check me)

Most importantly Sanji is about to be born. His little eggplant is about to be born into one of the worst family on the sea. Well not if he has anything to say about it. He’s still Red-Leg Zeff, the pirate captain.

He knows they can’t do a full frontal assault but some sneaking around gets him to Sora. And a quick “how do you feel about taking all the kids and running?” She’s in. Anything to get them away from Judge.

And it’s stupid easy because they are babies who are only a few days old. Judge only cares about their test results he isn’t watching them. So Zeff and a few of his crew just nab Judges wife and kids, and quite a bit of loot.

Zeff is booking it out of there. But not without kick judge through at least one wall durning the escape.

He makes the decision to quiet the pirate life early. He’s got Sora and the kids to worry about. They open the Baratie early. He knows exactly which cooking staff he’s hiring.

As he separated from the crew he tells them that if they run into a girl named Nico Robin to bring her to him.

He starts establishing the Baratie as a location for all to dine in. But this time he’s focused on making connections. Keeping his thumb on the pulse of both pirate and government movement.

Raising the five kids he’s acquired along side Sora, the genetic programming takes but without it being supported as they grow eventually gets out of their systems. Sanji being the most in touch with his emotions followed by Reiju. Their brothers struggle with emotions but are a lot better and more adjusted than they are in cannon.

About two years into this restaurant one 11 year old Nico Robin is delivered by his old crew. The girl is super freaked out but he sits her down and tells her that’s she’s safe, he’s got ears everywhere and will know if the governmental coming after them, and he won’t let them take her. Plus who’s going to be looking for her at a high class restaurant. It also helps that he’s got a gaggle of children already so she can stay off the floor hanging out with the kids. Sora also dyes Robin’s hair purple and that with age is enough to make people not immediately recognize her from her bounty poster.

5 years later the red hair pirates a bouncing around the East blue and Zeff waits. Waits until one day Shanks comes in one arm short and bragging about his son. (It helps that Sanji and his siblings are helping out so Shanks and Zeff are just casually talking about their kids.) He grabs the captain and pulls him to the side and tells him that Luffy is in danger and that there is another little boy on that island, a boy who is the son of his old captain. Shanks thinks he’s crazy at first but he knows things about Luffy. The scar under his eye, and other things.

Enough to make shanks curious enough to turn around and find Luffy and his TWO new brothers. He quickly collects three children and returns to the Baratie. (Kicks door open while holding three children “you were right!” Zeff surprised by the third child but not mad) (I don’t think he knows about Sabo)

Luffy and Sanji get on like a house fire with Luffy loudly declaring that Sanji will one day join his crew as his chef. And Zeff is standing there watching them with a proud smile, because somethings are just meant to happen.

Meanwhile Shanks as turned to look at Zeff

“anything else I should know about?”

Zeff just snorts “a lot. You still friends with Hawkeyes or have you to made it official yet?”

(With the Baratie around earlier he had to witness young Shanks and Mihawk flirting, it was painful)

Shanks gets sad “he’s mad about well you know…” the missing arm. And Zeff feels bad about that but he had no clue how the man lost it in the first place so there was no way he could stop it.

“If you run into him tell him there’s a crazy kid in the east blue gunning for his title. If he wants to keep things interesting he might want to train him.” (The Baratie is Mihawk’s favorite establishment Zeff could also tell him but he has a feeling the swords master would listen to Shanks over him.)

This is how Mihawk shows up at a dojo where a 10year old Kuina and 9 year old Zoro are training. (A year before Kuina’s death) he sees their skill and hears Kuina’s father’s opinion about females and training. He knows it’s an opinion that is also popular in Wano where this man is obviously from, but it’s not the way the rest of the world works. He approaches and offers to take over the training of the girl “who won’t make anything of herself” and the “feral gremlin using sword handles for teething.” Kuina’s father isn’t to sure about all this but he can’t really refuse the greatest swordsman in the world nor will Kuina or Zoro stay once they hear about the offer.

Mihawk has now obtained one verbally polite girl who will break every rule the moment his back is turn and one backpack leash gremlin.

He and Shanks are regulars at the Baratie for parenting advice. Luffy meets Zoro’s and again claims him as part of the crew. Years later Zoro and Sanji argue over who will be the first official member (Sanji: Luffy asked me first! Zoro: but I was the first one to physically join the crew!)

But currently the three run a muck on the Baratie pulling pranks on their older siblings (Ace, Sabo, Kuina, and Reiju are all the same age) or just Sanji brothers (they are still learning emotions and will sometimes join in on the chaos, other times they are a rival faction but if they ever get to mean Luffy and Zoro put them in their place)

but eventually Luffy runs into Robin (she tries to stay out of the way as much as possible to not get the Baratie in trouble. Zeff tells her she doesn’t have to but Trauma is a thing) Luffy loves her instantly. She quitely reading a book and Luffy joins her for story time and she never gets mad at his interruption and is so patient with him. He looks at her with a grin of a small sun and tells her “when I’m captain you’re going to be on my crew!” Robin is a little freaked out because she doesn’t want to bring the world government down on this little boy. But Zeff talks to her later and tells her that Luffy isn’t a force that can be stopped. It takes time but in the next ten years Robin comes around to the idea of being on Luffy’s crew with Zoro and her little brother Sanji. As soon as Luffy claimed her he told the others. Sanji was pumped! Zoro just accept it but he comes around to really love Robin.

At the same time that the boys are all being adopted Zeff is making some calls and contacts. The Baratie has been open for over 9 years he’s got some high connections. He eventually gets a hold of Jimbei and tells him that Arlong is in the East Blue and causing trouble. (Arlong has just started in the East blue, Zeff has no clue of the time clock) he points Jimbei in the direction of Cocoyashi.

Jimbei gets their right at the time of Arlong raid in the village. He walks in right as Arlong and Bell-mére are having their confrontation. I don’t know exactly what happens (I haven’t met Jimbei yet) but he’s able to stop it.

Bell-mére asks how he knew they were in trouble and he tells them about the Baratie. The village wants to thank the man who alerted Jimbei so Bell-mére goes (she is a retired Marine and probably the best sailor.) and takes Nojiko and Nami with her. Of course Shanks is visiting with the boys and Luffy and Nami instantly hit it off. “This is my Navigator!!!” Shanks is laughing because the kids going to have a whole crew before he has a boat.

Once Luffy is ready to set sail he meets up with Zoro and the two head to the Baratie to pick up Nami, Sanji, and Robin. Zeff points them in the direction of Suyrup village to “get a ship” where they pick up Usopp and save Kaya. (This absolutely does not make Usopp’s feeling of inferiority worse by the time they get to Water 7. No way. It’s not like everyone else on the crew until Vivi and Chopper have known each other for 10 years. He’s not the odd man out in any way.)

Zeff doesn’t have a lot of information about their adventures so he can’t truly stop anything but he does know some thing. (Nami leaving the crew. Luffy and Zoro being from the east blue and having connections with Shanks and Mihawk (Mihawk totally goes the the Baratie to drink during the time skip. Zeff knows Zoro is his kid) he knows Ace is Roger’s son and that he dies. But he doesn’t know anything that isn’t in Sanji’s letters or the news paper (which is full of lies)

He makes the best decisions he can for Sanji.

He saves Sanji from Zeff as soon as possible

Accidentally saving Sora, Reiju, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji

After Sanji set sail Zeff decides to expand the Baratie. It’s a chain

Patty and Carne take over the East blue branch

Reiju runs the one in the grandline.

Ichiji runs one in the west blue

Niji runs one in the south blue

The north blue doesn’t get one until Judge is dead they all agree on that

Yonji bounces from place to place helping as he is needed

Zeff and Sora open one in the New World.

Zeff might not know everything the Strawhats went through but he knows the major events and by having a home base in almost every sea he’s got ears everywhere. His old crew is still out there acting as ears for him and bring him news.

Anything he can help the Strawhats avoid or remove from their path he sends word

He tells Shanks about Ace.

Accidentally getting Luffy, Ace, and Sabo adopted

Saving Sabo from the Celestial dragons

Giving all three boys the chance to train with the Red Hair Pirates and learn Haki early while also getting a feel for the Grandline and New World

Ace’s death is prevented because he knows about Blackbeards plans and tells Ace to watch out for the man and to not trust him. It helps that Ace grew up with Shanks who never liked Blackbeard at all.

He tells Mihawk about Zoro

Kuina is accidentally saved

Both get to train with Mihawk far before their adventure. Mihawk loves it because the two are “trying to kill him” but they are also competing with each other and it’s MESSY they are so dramatic in their own weird way and he’s living for watching this gremlins fight while he drinks wine. When Perona shows up he finally has a goth child who wants to dress presentable and drink wine while making his other children. The family is complete.

He puts out feelers for Robin having no real hope she will show up

Accidentally gave her a loving home and help her feel safe while also preparing her for the adventure ahead.

He points Jimbei in Arlong direction. He has no clue what Arlong is truly up to.

Accidentally saves village

Saves Bell-mére’s life and kick starts the Strawhats.

The Strawhats still have a lot going on but because of advance trading some received as children and the stronger bonds.

He can’t do anything to Chopper, Franky, Brook or Usopp because their trauma is already passed Franky/Brook or he doesn’t know their stories well enough to intervene, Usopp/Chopper.

But he does make the safest home possible for his little eggplant.

596 notes · View notes

borkunlimited · 5 months ago

Text

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 2

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

2: My Dearest, Cherished

Daisy hopped about, shifting through the box of your growing collection of hair accessories opened in front of you.

“Oh, you want me to wear this one?”, you asked the little bird holding out its chosen hairpin towards you using its beak.

The crow gave you a small nod and you studied the accessory before putting it on. It is the most recent gift Mr. Sylus gave you, the one brought by his bodyguard, Skye, and a small giggle escaped your lips, a faint blush on your face on how the small accessory is almost realistic, and reminded you of a stray butterfly deciding to land on your hair.

As always, Mr. Sylus seemed to select the perfect gifts.

It almost makes you feel that you are pretty.

You bit your lip at the thought and looked at the side, avoiding the gaze of your reflection on the mirror silently judging you for even thinking of such and for a moment, a hint of embarrassment and guilt filled your mind.

Mr. Sylus is just being kind to you.

Daisy peered at you curiously, as if confused by your sudden change of demeanor, watching you absentmindedly play the end of your braid and look at your shoes.

“Good afternoon, Miss Deer!”

A cheery voice called out to you and your eyes immediately landed at two pairs of pointed wolf ears poking out over the ledge of the studio’s window, each holding up almost identical wolf puppets.

“Your favorite twins are here!”

“Mr. Sylus’ most loyal henchmen at your service!”

The thoughts bothering you awhile ago were put aside, your steps quick with Daisy taking perch on one of your antlers while you put yourself in front of the window on this makeshift puppet show held by Mr. Sylus’ twin messengers, Luke and Kieran.

Luke quickly took a peek to check if they managed to get your attention and he had to stifle a chuckle upon seeing your deer ears perked up, clearly excited, with Mephisto (or as you call the boss’ crow, ‘Daisy’) peering curiously at them. He gave his younger brother a thumbs-up and Kieran’s tail wagged.

They have always been fascinated watching you put together colorful fabrics every time they drop off the boss’ gifts to you and perhaps video games have become boring recently that they decided to pick up another hobby to pass time in between planning pranks and doing the dirty work on the boss’ behalf.

After a few band-aids around their fingers and repeating stitches, the time has come to finally show off their handiwork to you.

“Oh, looks like we have an audience, Kieran.”

“Is that so, Luke? We shouldn’t disappoint them then.”

“You must be wondering why we are here on this beautiful afternoon, aren’t you, Miss Deer?” Luke asked through the little puppet he is holding, using a high and false voice.

They have grown to also look after you willingly, the object of their boss’ affections, having interacted with you directly every time they deliver Sylus’ gifts to you. Despite multiple visits, their adoration grew further on that fateful visit when they came out of a sudden skirmish on their way to you with small tears on their coats.

Who felt it first anyways?

Luke?

Kieran?

What each twin knows is the surge of warmth, unfamiliar but certainly welcomed, while they sit on their haunches, observing you while you sit by the window of your studio, fixing their clothes for them under the warm glow of the lamp.

They each received a kiss on the forehead through their masks after that and ever since then, it was not only Sylus’ approval they sought but yours as well.

“Did Mr. Sylus asked you to deliver a gift again?”, you asked, tilting your head curiously at them, or at least their little puppets, and the sound of their tails thumping against the hardwood floor of the balcony grew louder.

“Mr. Sylus did not ask them to deliver a gift.”

All of you turned towards the source of the voice and you smiled, immediately recognizing your latest visitor.

“Good afternoon, Skye. What brings you here?”, you greeted him, and Sylus walk beside you, a bouquet of daisies in his hand that he set on your work table and a look of satisfaction crossed his face upon noticing you are wearing the one of the hairpins he gifted you.

You look so charming wearing his gifts as usual.

His gaze moved towards Mephisto and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes when he saw his creation using your antlers as a perch.

A. Perch.

It did not help that you don’t mind at all.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” he answered, and he turned towards the twins who were conveying their curiosity towards his sudden appearance by tilting the heads of their wolf puppets. “And to answer your question, I am the one that Mr. Sylus sent today to deliver your gift, not these two wolf cubs.”

And also not the crow who also has the audacity to also tilt its head towards him, as if surprised its master is here.

All of them (aside from him, of course) don't have any reason to be in your studio but here they are.

“Oh, just passing by, boss,” Kieran spoke, standing up together with his brother and jumping inside through the window.

“We’re not slacking off, we swear!”, Luke added.

Right and he isn’t the most wanted man in this country.

“And yet here you are,” Sylus answered, clearly amused at how the two are showing off their work to you, “Holding a puppet show for miss seamstress.”

You are clearly having fun shaking hands with their little puppets from the looks of it, your attention fully directed towards the twins.

Cute.

You are absolutely cute right now.

Sylus isn’t angry at all.

He finds it endearing, in fact. First it was Mephisto parading the ribbon you tied around its neck back at the base and now these two are joining in the fun, wearing neck scarves you have also sewn for them. A gift from you because you said you are having a difficult time identifying who is who according to them.

“We’re actually delivering our own gift this time, boss,” Luke answered and he pulled out a deer hand puppet from his coat, handing it to you.

“Made it ourselves, Miss Deer,” Kieran added, watching you slip on the puppet on your hand, a wide smile on your face and then made it tilt its head on the twins’ own puppets.

If Sylus thinks you shaking hands with the wolf puppets is absolutely cute, then this is another level.

“You did very well,” you praised the two boys and you can clearly see the dedication put into it. You assumed they learned on their own based on the stitches and it takes you back during the time you first learned how to sew by making your own plushies.

“Don’t worry, boss, we haven’t forgotten about you,” Luke spoke, and Sylus let out a huff of amusement but accepted the gift from Kieran.

A dragon puppet. How fitting.

Now all four of you can actually stage a puppet show at this point.

They have really outdone themselves this time, haven’t they? (and he is actually proud of them too).

“I’m honored,” Sylus answered dryly, slipping on the hand puppet and letting you examine it, “Are you going to start handing us the script as well?”

“Oh, we haven’t thought about that,” Kieran mused.

“But that is certainly a good idea, don’t you think?”, Luke nudged his brother and his twin nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. Would the boss participate in their little puppet show? They don’t know but he surely will if you are in it and-

-One quick look is enough for them to know you are more than eager to do so, your eyes twinkling as you gaze fondly at the puppet they made for you, your fingers gently running on its ears.

Back to the drawing board it is.

Sylus does not have to see the expression beneath the masks they are wearing, their wagging tails alone is a dead giveaway and he let out a silent scoff when the the twins raised their puppets, using it to kiss both of your cheeks.

Not only did you allow them to do so but you gave each of them a kiss on the forehead too.

“See you at the base, boss!”, Luke gave him a mock salute before jumping out of the window with his brother. Mephisto also took it as a cue to leave after quickly preening your hair and receiving a kiss from you on the top of its head.

All of these things happened. Right in front of him. Their boss. He quickly pushed the jealous thoughts about to resurface aside, his annoyed expression replaced by a lazy smirk.

“Enjoying your gift, sweetie?”, Sylus asked, looking down at you and he arched his brow when he noticed you were studying him.

Did you finally figure it out?

You didn’t answer his question, instead, you raised your deer puppet inches from his face, and then asked, “Why did they call you ‘boss’, Skye?”

“Why indeed,” he mused, raising his own dragon puppet to face yours, “Do you need a hint, sweetie?”

No, you don’t need a hint. His towering figure is enough for you to realize that he is the someone who issues out orders. His clothes clearly point out that he has sufficient budget to dress up nicely and it only means one thing.

How could you not realize it sooner?

“You’re-”, you started slowly.

This is it. His tail swishes side by side, and he is almost surprised at how excited he is right now, eager to end this charade and to finally hear you say it.

To say his actual name.

“I’m...?”, he encourages, almost holding his breath in anticipation.

The beating of his heart seemed to grow louder, his eyes trained on your lips, your expression bright which he assumed was because you realized that the beloved client you have been wanting to thank is here, right now, inside your studio.

“You’re the boss henchman of all Mr. Sylus’ henchmen!”, you proclaimed.

And there it is.

How? How is it you are capable of figuring out how to sew the intricacies of the clothes he requests from you but it is taking you so long to piece together his real identity?

He had to stop himself from letting out a frustrated sigh at your answer, his smirk straining a little slightly and then he let out a chuckle.

So close. You are so close but it looks like he needs to drop more hints, to let you figure out this mystery on your own.

“Is that so, sweetie?”, he replied, tapping the nose of your deer puppet with the snout of his own puppet, “I supposed I am.”

“Do you see Mr. Sylus everyday then, Skye?”, you asked him, your puppet now posing as it is thinking, wondering about the identity of your mysterious (and shy) patron.

Of course, he does. Every morning and evening, in fact. He just had to look at any mirror to see himself.

“I do,” he answered casually, then he leaned forward with his puppet who looked like he was about to share something private, “Do you want to know a secret, miss seamstress?”

You nodded eagerly, your puppet reflecting your action and he chuckled in amusement. Perhaps you have been around the company of beasts that reside here in the N109 zone for so long that your little deer instincts have now faded.

It is certainly alarming to see you not fleeing from a fiend like him but then again, that is why he is here to make sure no other beasts in this place or anywhere for that matter would sink their fangs on that neck of yours.

Except him, of course.

His smirk grows, your ear twitching due to his proximity and your soft fur grazing his nose for a moment. It was so tempting to take in your scent, to bury his nose on the slope of your neck to savor the aroma of cotton and wildflowers.

Your expectant gaze at him made him chuckle before speaking. Your eyes reminded him of a deer who is a few steps away from leaving her meadow and into the dark forest where the dragon resides.

“Mr. Sylus is very, very fond of you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

You suddenly took a step back away from him, blushing at the secret he just shared to you.

If he walks towards you, would you take a step back?

“Why so shy all of a sudden, little doe?”, he asked playfully, observing you hide your face behind the puppet you are holding up, “Do you like him back?”

Of course you like Mr. Sylus. You like his gestures of gratitude and how he looks after this tailor shop even when he has never set foot here, and because of it, this place has become one of the few neutral zones scattered across the N109 zone where any disputes or fights are not allowed.

Yet, Skye seemed to imply something else but maybe you are just reading into it too much.

“No, I don’t,” you shook your head, hoping that your blush would disappear when you do.

“Such a bad liar,” Sylus tutted, thoroughly amused to see you taking another step back as he closes the distance between the two of you. He could hear the beating of your heart and you shuddered when his tail wrapped around your ankle while you used your puppet to cover your face from him.

“I am not lying.” “Oh, I think you are.”

Instead of moving your puppet aside, he raised his to hug yours instead and just the thought that it is him and you is enough for his tail to tightened its hold.

“Terrible liars aren’t cut for making good excuses, sweetie,” he said, closing the distance between the two of you and it was so amusing watching you shift back and forth.

“I don’t like Mr. Sylus.”

“Do you? And here I thought you wanted to meet him.”

Beneath his playful answer was a hint of warning. He isn’t going to accept any other answer aside from what he wanted to hear but he waited patiently, his eyes narrowing slightly towards you who is looking at anything else but him.

Why is Skye teasing you so much? Sure, you may have had a crush slight admiration towards Mr. Sylus during the early days of the shop but that all went out of the window when you heard that the man is a hundred years old.

A hundred years old.

It is then you realized the gifts must be him being a polite and kindly old gentleman.

“I do want to meet him!”

“Didn’t you say you don’t like him? Best to choose a side, sweetheart.”

“I like him as a friend. Not the way you think.”

“As a friend?”, Sylus repeated, his tail uncoiling itself from your ankle, flicking in annoyance with your answer. “All this time, you think all of his gifts are tokens of friendship?”

You are more oblivious than he thought or maybe he should step up his game to spell it out for you.

“But-”, you stammered.

“But what, little doe?”, he replied, his eyes slightly. Why do you look so terrified? Did you finally realize that a dangerous man is infatuated with you? Took you so long.

“He’s a hundred years old, Skye!”, you exclaimed.

There was a moment of silence after your outburst.

Of all the rumors circulating about him, the speculation about his age is the one that reached your ears and you just had to believe the most ridiculous one. Not that he is a dangerous man who leaves no survivors in his wake or eats his enemies.

No, you chose to believe he is a dusty, old geezer.

You thought he was an old gentleman all this time who is just being polite

That does it. After his visit here, he will look for the smart person who spread lies about his age.

“Sweetie,” he chuckled softly, amused at the little frown on your face when he pokes your cheek with the snout of his puppet, “He’s not even close to his thirties.”

Perhaps you can take his word for it because he does work for Mr. Sylus. If Skye is already imposing, for sure, Mr. Sylus is as well. Every client of yours that happens to also be his business associate all claim his presence commands the room. That one look from him is enough for you to know your place.

They make him sound mean but then again, you did tailor his business attire with dark fabrics.

Would he be angry when you assumed he was a very old man? You really hope Skye won’t tell.

“What does he look like then?”, you asked.

He looks like me, sweetie.

Sylus had to bite the inside of his cheek to blurt out his initial answer and the hopeful look on your face almost cracked his resolve on keeping up with this charade. Instead, he sighed dramatically, making his puppet shake its head.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he answered and your ears drooped miserably. “Mr. Sylus is a very private man.”

Your sad gaze made Sylus decided that teasing is done for today. Not when his sweet deer is looking at him as if he shooed her away.

“Don’t give me that look, darling deer,” he sighed, reaching for the bouquet of daisies he brought with him and tucking a flower near one of your antlers.

You didn’t reply, your eyes averted at the side with your ears still drooping.

“Mr. Sylus wouldn’t be too happy to see his favorite tailor all sulking now,” he chided, adding another daisy on your hair.

“Don’t tell him I thought he was a hundred years old,” you said quietly, shifting back and forth anxiously and hoping that Mr. Sylus’ tall bodyguard would be as kind as his twin henchmen.

Sylus huffed, chuckling softly at your innocent request as he reached out to gently still you so he could tuck another daisy on your hair.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Your secret is safe with me,” he answered, setting the bouquet back on the table and you laughed softly when his puppet’s mouth playfully pinched your nose and he grinned when he saw your short tail wagging in response.

“Thank you, Skye.”

“Anything for you, miss seamstress.”

────────────────────

Initially, your father dismissed the first time Sylus visited.

He did not mind the tall dragon hybrid taking a look around the shop because Sylus is the reason why he was able to build this place in the first place.

The second time Sylus visited, well, that is something your father knew he should keep a closer eye at.

Especially when Sylus himself is personally giving a bouquet of flowers to you.

Your father is glad no one was at the shop today or else the other clients who saw that will talk and the last thing he wants is you, his sweet daughter who has dedicated her life to sewing clothes, be the center of gossip.

He heard your soft laughter behind the closed door of your studio and oddly enough, it was surprising to hear Sylus speak to you so fondly.

What he doesn’t understand is why you are calling Sylus using a different name.

“Mr. Sylus,” your father greeted him as he stepped back at the receiving area of your shop, “I hope you enjoyed your visit today.”

Sylus gave your father an easy smile, all of his affectionate demeanour reserved just for you hidden behind a polite mask. One look is enough for him to see the older deer hybrid’s suspicion towards him.

This is the look of a deer who had caught the scent of danger.

“Good afternoon,” Sylus greeted, inclining his head, “Yes, I did.”

Sylus’ gaze lingered towards the door to your studio and oh how he is already looking forward to his next visit, to simply watch his sweet tailor caught up in the world of cloth and needle. So clueless, ignorant on the meaning of his gifts.

“I am glad to hear that,” your father replied politely, “Please do take care on your way back.”

Your father is afraid but it wouldn’t be wise to show Sylus his fear. This isn’t the look of an investor who is simply interested in how his many ventures are fairing.

No, he will always recognize this look everywhere.

Finally, the gifts had made sense. Those gifts are not gestures of gratitude. It is so much more personal.

Those are Sylus’ subtle attempts to win your heart.

“Thank you, I will,” Sylus gave him one last nod, a polite smile before making his way outside the shop, the chimes announcing his departure.

Oh, Sylus will keep coming back here, again and again. It does not matter how many times and he will keep doing it-

Until finally you will recognize him.

Until finally you call him by his real name.

Until finally you are his.

────────────────────

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus x reader #sylus x you #hybrid au #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads hybrid au

157 notes · View notes

oatmealwrites · 8 months ago

Text

A Night to... Forget? Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! Reader

for ch.2 click here

(For reference I aged up Keigo (Hawks to 25 ish just for the ages of you and Aizawa to make sense)

I will also use the pro hero last names for the first chapter with their pro name next to them in case you don't recognize

Word Count: 5.5k

SYNOPSIS: You never really felt like you had a quirk. Sure you technically did, but tons of people have been born with eidetic memories in the past, even before quirks became mainstream. You gave up the dream of being a pro-hero like your friends and instead found comfort in support through law. After a particularly draining case you assisted on, you find yourself dragged out to a bar with your best friend Keigo (hawks). The whole night was a bad idea, taking Keigo up on his drinking game was worse, especially when Aizawa was there. It’s the man you can’t help yourself pining over, and it’s the one night you can’t remember.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the final tap of the judge’s wooden gavel, you rise to your feet and let out a sigh of any remaining energy you had left. The court marshals walked over to the defendant and swiftly cuffed the villain despite his loud and physical efforts to resist; your eyes following the marshals slowly escorting the man out of the room and noting the way his protests deafened once the doors swung closed.

“Nice work out there Y/N.”

You look over past the mid-height railing that separates the spectators from the court floor and lock eyes with detective Tsukauchi. A small smile on his face as he stands perfectly upright and attent.

“Thanks detective -”

“How many times do I have to say you can just call me Tsukauchi?”

You bite your tongue and shake your head lightly, now shuffling files into your soft leather briefcase and packing up.

“Right Tsukauchi. Thanks for your support, I didn’t realize you were going to be coming to the sentencing today.”

The detective adjusts his collar and scans the crowd of heroes, attorneys, policemen, and spectators slowly shuffling for the exits, obviously searching for someone, “It's always nice to see the next generation of people fighting for justice in action.”

You pause and raise an eyebrow; understanding there’s another reason for his attendance. “Toshinori (All Might) is probably in the lobby by now.” You continue sliding the court files into your bag, one by one, only focused on getting out of the courthouse and into bed.

Tsukauchi looks back at you, a slightly shocked expression on his face before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and smiles, “Right, thanks. I’ll see you around the station when you pick up files for your next case.”

You give a slight wave off to him and turn to sling the straps of your briefcase over your head and across your chest, ready to finally go home and sleep. Turning your head, your eyes follow the prosecutor you extern for walking back from his short talk with the judge who was now packing up as well.

“Nice job kid!” He gives you a slight pack on the back and pulls his cellphone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts briefly, “I’m gonna have the secretary forward the followup paperwork over to you to file. Think you can get it done by Monday? We have a few more cases already pending and this one needs to close ASAP.”

You grip the straps of your briefcase and do your best not let your exhaustion show. This prosecutor is a big deal in your externship and unfortunately that also means most of your free time gets sacrificed. Instead of letting out the sigh that was sitting in your lungs, you swallow thickly and nod once, “Of course. I’ll start on it right away. Do you want me to begin memorizing the next case’s notes as well?”

The prosecutor snaps his fingers while looking up from his phone and slings his own briefcase over his shoulder, “Are you sure your quirk is eidetic and not mindreading?”

He laughs at his own joke before walking out of the court floor, past the spectator stands, and into the lobby, not bothering to even say goodbye.

You stand there for a moment, reviewing the plans you made this weekend that would now need to be rearranged. Meeting classmates in the library for group study (which was really group reading 200+ pages of law textbooks) should be uninterrupted at the usual meeting time of 9am.

Your report to UA might need a slight tweak, but nothing more than a few hours. Before every case you worked on, you always met with the pro-hero who had captured the villain who you would be assisting in prosecuting. Every detail memorized and ready for paperwork and eventually the courtroom floor.

The main issue would be Keigo. With a slight sigh you push your hair out of your face and pull up his contact, ready to flake on him and his movie night for the third week in a row. Stepping out of the court room floor you make your way out to the lobby and shift in between the groups of people to a small open area near the front windows.

You click the ‘dial’ button and raise the phone to your ear, looking out the window and the setting sun bringing a warm glow to the city. You hear a soft ring once, and then twice before you notice a cellphone from across the lobby ringing at the same interval. Before your eyes can even fully adjust to the sunset’s glare, you spot your best friend from across the room holding up his phone with a coy smile and heading to you.

You end the call and shuffle forward while sliding your cellphone into your blazer pocket, “What are you doing here?”

Keigo’s usual hero uniform was replaced with a gray t-shirt and black denim jeans; either on the way home or just coming from it. He casually glides a hand through his hair, pushing it back and letting a few stray strands fall back over his forehead again.

“Came to pick you up obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow and adjust the straps on your shoulder, “Huh? For what?”

Keigo side steps to allow other people to pass by and smoothly guides you out of the way with a slight pressure on your upper arm, “There’s a group going out to a bar to celebrate. A handful of pro heroes from UA and such are going, plus I’m sure some of your law school buddies will be around.”

You tilt your head, “Celebrate what?”

The lobby now getting busier and busier with spectators, police officers, and more leaving, Keigo gently grabs your elbow and pulls you near the vending machines by the exit doors.

“Celebrate the fact it’s Friday…?” He scratches the back of his head and laughs, “Ok well it’s more like everyone has been super busy catching villains and uhh..-”

“Prosecuting”

“Prosecuting,” he snaps his fingers, “so it was like a group decision to take some time off and relax.”

You squint at him, “Uh huh? I have a lot of work to do and so do you as well anyways,” You turn to the exit and Keigo quickly pivots to block your path.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” he pokes your shoulder lightly, “and I knew you were probably gonna flake on movie night again this week.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips slightly at being read so easily. It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, you just had way too much on your plate at the moment. Your silence is answer enough for him and he smiles in victory

“Ok then it’s settled. Come have a few drinks and the weekend is all yours to do your boring school stuff.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, knowing you could never convince him otherwise, “Ok fine. And I want it known that I don’t enjoy doing homework or externship duties over hanging out.”

You both push off the wall and maneuver the crowd to the large wooden double doors of the exit and descend the stone stairs to the small courtyard. The sun quickly setting causes nearby business signs to flicker on a warm glow of colors up and down the street.

You continue walking down the courtyard and head towards the nearby parking lot and main road; a metro station sign illuminating a portion of the sidewalk.

“Who’d you even get to agree to this anyways?”

Keigo hums and looks down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“You said there was a group,” you run a hand through your hair, now wondering if your appearance is even nice enough to warrant going out. The slight breeze brings small goosebumps to your legs; the pencil skirt and opaque black tights not providing much warmth.

“Oh.. you know them all so don’t worry,” he stops at the escalator entrance to the metro station, “Seriously just relax ok? You look great and you’ll have a great time.”

His touch is gentle on the small of your back as he lets you step onto the moving stair in front of him. You rock back and forth in your kitten heels, balancing on the ridges of the escalator and looking up at Keigo.

“Am I gonna be the only one dressed like this?”

He pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and offers you a piece, throwing up an eyebrow in the process, “Hm? You’re dressed fine. You know, you worry too much.”

You throw the minty gum into your mouth and step off the escalator to scan your transit card at the metro entrance gate, “Couldn’t you just like, fly me home so I could at least drop my briefcase off?”

Keigo follows you past the scanners and towards the platform, he puts his hand out to hold your bag without even saying a word. You scoff and roll your eyes, but sling the straps off anyways and place the weight in his hand. He flings it over his shoulder and stands at the edge of the platform, watching the tv sign estimate of the next train’s arrival, “That would take too long. Everyone is probably already there.”

You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and sway on your heels again absentmindedly, only stopping when Keigo’s hand places a weight on your shoulder. Before you can even speak a yellow glow lights up the end of the platform walls and a strong gust blows back your hair and blazer fabric.

His hand only leaves your shoulder once the automatic doors slide open and the glow of the train car’s fluorescent lights pour onto the platform. Keigo steps on the train and maneuvers through a few people to secure a seat for himself and one for you across from him.

*******

The sun has completely set at this point with only the street lights, car headlights, and neon business signs glowing warmly onto the street. The bar in question is nice and secluded, but not in a questionable part of town, just a bit more residential. It’s only a few metro stops away from your friend’s apartment, and you’ve been here with Keigo more times than you can count.

Your heels click softly on the ground as you walk next to him, only stopping at the door to pry your bag open to look for your ID while Keigo holds it open. The bouncer recognizes him right away, giving a soft ‘Hawks’ upon seeing him despite the fact that nearly every time he visits you’re with him as well.

He opens the door for you and the warm air of the bar comfortably surrounds you; the music and chatter a distinct change from the quiet streets outside. It’s crowded, but not uncomfortably. Groups of people surround the billiards table, nearly every bar stool is taken, and the booths by the dance floor seemed mostly filled. It made sense given it’s Friday night.

As you work through a few bodies to approach the bar you give a slight elbow to Keigo, “It’s so dumb, why does he insist on checking my ID every time? It’s not like he hasn’t seen us both here before a million times.”

He laughs and guides you through a few bodies before pulling out two empty bar stools for you both to sit at, “It would be hard for anyone to forget this face.”

You roll your eyes and spin in the chair to face the bartender, your left hand now cradling your head while Keigo sits closely on your right side, “shut up…”

He laughs and shakes your shoulder, “Oh come on. Here, let me get us some shots,” he pauses and examines you for a moment, “wait, have you eaten yet?”

You shrug and look at bottles behind the bartender, trying to determine what shot you wanted, “Umm a few hours ago. Why don’t we just get food after? It always tastes better anyways.”

He snaps his fingers and hums, “Ohh ok ok. Sounds good, just don’t go getting shitfaced beforehand.”

You scoff and wave your hand at him, “Yea, yea… tequila?”

He smiles and leans on the counter, getting the bartender's attention while you survey the bar. Most are local residents and college kids but you spot a few groups of police officers and heroes in the back booths. Shifting in your seat to get a better view, you can make out the faces of Kayama (midnight), Tsukauchi, and Toshinori. With one more tilt of your head you then spot Yamada (present mic) and Aizawa..

You spin in your barseat abruptly and nearly bump the lime in Keigo’s hands onto the counter. He pulls his hands back and furrows his eyebrows, “Hey watch out I almost-”

His gaze follows yours and you frantically look anywhere else and claw at him to not be so obvious.

“Ohhh I see,” The biggest shit-eaitng grin spreading across his face.

You sink your face into your palms, not bothering to worry if it smudges your makeup, “Shut up.”

Keigo keeps looking at Aizawa for an extra moment before spinning back towards you and kicking you gently under the bar counter.

“To be fair, I didn’t even think he was gonna show,” he slides a shot glass over to you with his left hand, the limes sitting in his right.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna be here?”

You take the shot glass and stare down at the liquid before Keigo slides a lime in your right hand.

“Ok so bad news, no salt.”

You glare at him, obviously there was worse news than that right now.

“He hates me.”

Keigo rolls his eyes, getting impatient and wanting to drink already, “He does not. He’s like that with everyone,” he lifts his shot glass up right below his lips, gently guiding your hand holding yours to mirror the position. “Now let’s drink already.”

You give him one last glance before downing the liquid with an intense grimace, the fire burning down your throat. You place the shot glass back on the counter and sink your teeth into the lime, letting the sour juice mask the intensity of the alcohol.

Keigo exhales roughly and sticks out his tongue slightly with a contorted face, “oh my g-,” he coughs before he can get words entirely out. The disruption causes a few heads to turn, but people return back to their conversations a moment later.

You peel the lime from your lips and shake your head lightly, “Ok, maybe a different brand next time.”

You wince and pop the lime into the empty shot glass then slide it back towards the bartender and before you can turn to Keigo, his hand is wiping a napkin on your chin.

“Jeez you made a mess-”

You scowl and take the paper from his hands to wipe your face but raise an eyebrow at his sudden shiver. His shoulders roll forward uncomfortably and he arches his spine like cold water got dumped on his back. Before you can ask if he’s alright, he sits back up and shakes his head, “Ugh, sorry. I just had, like a weird feeling or something.”

Laughter pours out from somewhere behind you, the patrons and heroes in the booths now blocked by the other customers in the bar. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Ok, another?”

“Honestly, yea.. I’m gonna need it if he’s here.”

Keigo rolls his eyes and holds up two fingers to the bartender, though he motions towards a different bottle on the rack this time, “Come on Y/N. He’s just got a stick up his ass, though maybe you could remov-”

“Augh, no. I don’t even have his phone number let alone a chance of anything besides being barely colleagues. He’s even left the room the moment I entered, and I was only at UA to help him prosecute one of the villains he caught. He even mumbled about being ‘unable to work with me’.”

“That didn’t happen.”

“I literally couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

Keigo sniffs the new shot glass and makes a face in between ‘not good, but not bad’ and slides one over to you, “Your quirk is remember what you saw not what he said.”

You hunch over the shot and take a fresh lime from his hand, “It’s the same vibe though.”

Keigo throws the shot back with less of a dramatic reaction than before and digs his canines into the lime, “And yet you still have a thing for him? Kinda weird if you ask me.”

You follow suit in taking the shot and draining the juice from lime onto your tongue before frustratingly shaking your head, “I don’t!”

He raises an eyebrow with a deadpan.

“Ok, I don’t know why. I just do.”

Keigo stands up from the barstool and takes your briefcase, ready to join the rest of the group, “You just need to go on a date and stop hanging out with so many pencil pushers; it’s messing you up.”

With a hop off the stool, you straighten your skirt and follow him into the crowd of people, only weaving through a few groups before you approach the booth with everyone sitting and now looking up at you and Keigo expectedly.

“Hey! You guys made it!” Yamada booms from his position in the booth against the wall.

Keigo smiles and examines the seating arrangement. On the left booth, in the order from the wall to the dancefloor is Kayama, Toshinori, and Tsukauchi. On the right, from the wall out is Yamada and Aizawa.

You look at Keigo in a ‘don't’ you dare’ while he smirks back at you and slides next to Toshinori, leaving you sitting across from him and next to Aizawa. The wooden back of the booth creates an awkward angle and you arch forward to keep an upright position.

Kayama takes a sip from her drink and leans on the table, “We were just talking about the upcoming recess. Us teachers will have a week off with no school, not that it would apply to you guys though.”

There’s a pitcher on the table of a generic looking pale beer; Keigo makes a face asking permission and Tsukauchi gives a nod of approval. He pours you each a pint and you raise an eyebrow.

“Woa, letting loose tonight?”

Keigo smiles at Yamada and clinks his glass to yours, “Just celebrating the company.”

Aizawa shifts slightly beside you and takes a sip from his own drink, avoiding any comment in the conversation. His eyes linger in a scowl on Keigo for a moment before turning his attention to Yamada.

You stare at Keigo and silently curse him with your eyes for the seating arrangement while he leans back into the seat with the rim of his glass resting on his lower lips, enjoying the show in front of him.

“Why don’t we play a game everyone?”

The group turns to your friend waiting for him to elaborate.

“Just a simple drinking game, maybe… King’s Cup?

Tsukauchi rolls his eyes slightly. “That’s a bit childish no?”

Kayama smiles wide, “Oh it’ll be fun! Does anyone have any cards?”

Yamada smirks and slides a pack onto the table without missing a beat and the table erupts into excitement.

You find yourself a bit nervous at the proposal and tug at the collar of your button up shirt in slight heat. His stupid drinking games never end well.

While Yamada begins to shuffle the cards, you shimmy off your blazer, not wanting to spill anything on the overpriced fabric you expect to last you the end of law school.

“I can put it with mine, if you want.”

The voice is deep and curt and enough to make you finally look at the man sitting next to you. Aizawa’s hair tucked back into a half-bun with a few strands framing his face along with his signature 5 o’clock shadow indicating he’s been too tired to shave. He sits casually in a black long sleeve and matching black jeans, extending his hand to take your blazer.

“Oh, sure.. Thanks”

Without speaking, he takes the jacket and nudges Yamada’s arm to place it on the little ledge between the booth and the wall. Aizawa turns back to you once again before sipping on his drink and watching the ministrations ahead of him.

“Alright everyone, basic rules but we can remind each other as we go. Do the task associated with the card and have fun,” Keigo pauses and looks at the group, “Though what should we order to be the ‘king’s cup’.”

Toshinori raises an eyebrow at him meekly and holds his soda with both hands, “King’s cup?”

You sip your beer and lean into the booth, silently wishing a bank would be robbed and the entire table would be called into action.

“Whoever draws the fourth and final king from the deck has to drink it. The beverage can be whatever we want,” Keigo smirks at you, “ though preferably strong.”

You scoff and tilt your head further into the glass. Aizawa shifts in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back into the booth with you; his eyes on Keigo.

Toshinori scratches the back of his head, “Oh I see, I don’t drink though so maybe-”

“You can still drink your soda and play! If you choose the last king, you can decide who drinks it!” Yamada’s voice is as loud as the speaker's blaring music.

The group nods in agreement and you take bigger gulps of your drink, ignoring the way the two previous shots of tequila begin warming your skin further. Within 5 minutes the cards are arranged in a circle around a highball glass of long island iced tea.

“Alright everyone,” Kayama claps her hands, “Let’s start!”

******

It was a bad idea. Such a bad idea.

You’ve maybe been playing for 30 minutes and the entire table is to a point of tipsy that everything someone does is hilarious and no one can finish a sentence without a few slip ups. Toshinori is the only voice of reason, though his deflated self isn’t very convincing when he reminds people to hydrate.

The first round went fine with Yamada losing and downing the king’s cup as if it were water, and the table wasted no effort in upping the ante. The pitchers of beer long empty; now shot glasses and cocktails littered the table with the King’s Cup being a strange concoction of several flavors of vodka, soda water, and orange juice.

“Allllright..” Yamada places his hand on the circle of cards and pulls one out before holding it close to his chest.

Tsuakauchi, who’s a dull red in the cheeks from the alcohol, has relaxed a bit and leans on the table, “Sooo..?”

“4 ….. FLOOR”

Immediately everyone shimmies in their seat to try and touch the floor without being the last one. You pivot from side to side trying to bend over in the booth without lifting your pencil skirt too high. By the time you find a way to lean over, everyone’s hand is already on the floor.

“Ha! Drink up Y/N.”

You scowl at Kayama while squirming into an upright position, both of your faces humming with warmth and flushing from the alcohol. Aizawa waits to grab a card, watching you sip your drink as punishment; coughing slightly, he peels his attention to the table and draws.

“3.. Me.”

His eyebrow twitches as the table howls with laughter at his bad luck. He rolls his eyes and takes a long sip from the jack and coke in his hands, though he watches you in his peripherals.

The table turns its attention to you. You watch Aizawa swallow his beverage and you gulp subconsciously at the sight, too tipsy to realize just how obvious your gaze is. Keigo nudges your shin from under the table and you break your gaze to focus back on the table; the red on your cheeks now from slight embarrassment.

Taking a card, you flip it over and toss it face up, “6 - chicks.”

Kayama smiles and lifts her drink to clink with yours “Yay! I was getting thirsty here ya know.”

Your body hums from the rush and you can feel any decision making skills you have left begin to evaporate out of you. Keigo smiles and leans forward on the table, mirroring your position of resting both elbows on the table, waiting for the next turn.

He flips a card over to reveal the first king, “Ha! Alright I get to make a new rule,” he taps his chin and smirks deviously at you.

“Whenever someone has to drink, the group gets to decide from which cup,” he pauses and looks at Toshinori, “ah but yours will always be nonalcoholic.”

Toshinori gives a thumbs up and the game continuess in a few more circles until your drink is nearly empty and you’ve had a sip from everyone else’s glass at this point. Yamada’s order was a fruity cocktail, Aizawa’s a strong jack and coke, Keigo and Tsukauchi sip on the highest % beer the bar has, and Kayama sips on a long island.

You reach forward to take a card and hold it to your chest to avoid anyone else seeing it first; deciding if it’s a 4 you would have a head start to the ground.

“Heyy you cheater!”

Keigo points at you from the table and swat his hand away while leaning back to avoid him.

“4!”

Instantly you rush to the ground and laugh when you’re the first one to touch, watching Aizawa’s hand reach the bottom last. You discard the card on the table and notice the way he sips his drink, facing the inner corner of the booth and away from you.

Keigo grumbles, though he didn’t even lose, before reaching out and flipping a card over, “Eight - mate.”

Your eyes widen and do their best to look anywhere but your friend, even taking the initiative to lean over and ask Toshinori about how Midoriya’s training was going.

“Y/N~ let’s drink together yea?”

You deflate in your seat and swirl your nearly empty drink in your hands, watching the way Keigo raises his glass to his lips and points at you to do the same. Aizawa doesn’t say anything, and he’s the only one quiet as the rest of the group ‘ooohhhhs’.

Without missing a beat Toshinori reaches forward and flips over a card, revealing the final King. The group’s excitement falters for a moment, everyone hunching over the table looking at the card and then him and then back at the card again.

“You can’t drink it so-”

“You’ll decide who does.”

Yamada finishes Tsukauchi’s sentence and the group looks at Toshinori expectedly; the condensation of the strong cocktail punishment dripping down the glass and onto the table.

Toshinori looks around awkwardly and smiles gently at you, “Well since your drink is nearly empty… maybe you’d like this one?”

It feels like ice down your back and the current buzz of the alcohol already in your system makes you sway side to side in your seat lightly. You blink a few times while the group claps their hands in laughter, all grateful not to be the one to down the beverage.

Your hand grabs the glass and you raise the rim to your lips, taking a small sip before peeling back with a grimace. Everyone but Aizawa continues laughing while you kick Keigo from under the table, “You dick, this is barely anything besides vodka on ice with a splash of orange juice!”

“Drink up!”

Before you can raise the glass again a hand gently grabs your wrist and keeps it still; Aizawa looks focused at you.

“This is a bad idea,,” the table boos slightly but he doesn’t release his grasp, “how many have you had?”

You blink at him, your face flustered from the heat of the bar, the alcohol coursing through your system, and the feeling of him just inches away from your face.

“During the game..?”

“I saw you when you came in initially, you two went up to the bar first.”

When you can’t count the number, Aizawa turns to Keigo and furrows his brows at the man, “How many has she had?”

Keigo sits up before slumping back down on accident and drunkenly blinks at the drink in your hand, “she’s got one drink.”

Aizawa groans and watches you and Keigo become absorbed in conversation.

“No, I've definitely had more than one.”

“Well there’s only one in your hand so..”

“No Keigo,” Aizawa shifts at the sound of his name leaving your lips so casually, “Like before-before.”

“Ohhhh,” he sits upright and remains steady this time, “we each had… two.”

Aizawa releases your hand finally and rubs his temples, doing the math, “So those including the drinks during this game would be… six already,” he points to the glass, “that itself would be another three shots of vodka.”

Keigo huffs and waves Aizawa off, “it’s finee”

Yamada sits forward, “Well don’t you have to drink it with her? You did make yourselves drinking mates.”

The table erupts with laughter and you feel your abs hurting from the acknowledgement; Aizawa remains steady next to you silently, as if he was stone sober despite the tinge of red on his face.

Keigo leans forward and finishes his beer before grabbing the King’s Cup and pouring half of it into his empty glass and handing you the initial cup.

“Well then,” he lifts his glass and leans on the table; you mirror his action, “Cheers.”

********

You wish you could kill the sun.

The blinds of your apartment window open just enough to let sunlight pour into your room and blind your eyes despite them being shut. With a long groan you thrash in your bed, pulling a pillow to your face, then the comforter, before giving up and rolling onto your stomach.

There’s a pounding in your head and a constant feeling of bile in your throat that stirs nausea in your stomach. It’s when you finally find a comfortable position that your phone alarm rings loudly and vibrates on the nightstand next to you.

Can’t the world just fuck off.

It’s impossible to ignore and on the third repeat of the alarm pattern you finally sit up and cancel the notification. You would lay back down if the wave of nausea didn’t immediately bring a familiar acid taste to your mouth and you sprint out of bed into the ensuite bathroom.

You cough and hover over the toilet, letting any residual undigested alcohol out, slightly feeling better when you stand up to flush. After rinsing your mouth with water you sigh at the slight relief of pain in your gut but wince at the ongoing hum inside your skull.

Stepping out of the bathroom’s second door and into the living room you weakly stumble across the cold wooden floors, only now noticing your pajamas of a t-shirt on backwards and university branded sweatpants.

A low hum reverberates and you nearly jump out of your skin before leaving over the back of the couch and staring at a very tired and very hungover Keigo.

“Ugh.. morning”

His voice is so hoarse and dry that he winces as he speaks and resolves to turning over and trying to go back to bed.

You blink wearily and pad over to the kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and a bottle of painkillers. Before you hand Keigo his glass you chug half of your own and lean against the armrest.

He graciously takes the water and you slip your phone out of your pocket while he drinks.

“Oh fuck, I have to be at the campus library soon.”

Keigo hums, letting water drip down his chin without caring and taking large gulps of air when he finally finishes. He takes his head in his hands and rubs his eyes so roughly you’re sure he’s seeing stars, “What.. what even happened last night?”

You raise your glass to your lips and pause, “I can’t remember,”

Keigo nods once before his eyes shoot up and meet yours in worry.

“Oh shit… I can’t remember”

The sentence is spoken like a question as your heart rate spikes and you begin to panic. The only other times your quirk hasn't worked is when you’re extremely shitfaced or when Aizawa happened to look at you while using his erasure.

“Oh fuck. What did we do last night?”

Keigo looks up at you and shrugs, unable to form any words, just as surprised as you are. You set your glass on the coffee table and open your phone, “Maybe I took a video or photos? Something to jog my memor-”

You pause and swipe away a text notification before double taking at the sender.

From: Aizawa Shouta

How are you feeling?

Keigo leans up with a grimace and looks at your phone screen, not understanding until he looks between the device and your face three times back and forth.

“Hey I thought you said you didn’t have his number…?”

You can’t even lift your eyes from the message, “I…didn’t…”

What the FUCK happened last night

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shota x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #anime #fanfic #oatmealwrites #oatmeal aizawa #aizawa x yn

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squibsformers · 7 months ago

Text

Feral Fears, Ch. 1

Human x Transformers fic

MTMTE/Lost Light, First Contact AU

Rating: M

Word Count: 1,004

Desc: After needing to stop off for more supplies, the Lost Light gets a strange, displeased, new passenger.

AN: Hi hi hello I hope you like this! This was the poll winner, maybe I'll do another chapter soon. If you like it let me know! I enjoy reading tags and comments on my things a lot. This one's short to kinda get me back into the swing of writing.

[Next]

“How in the pit have we gone through this much energon so quickly…?” Yellow servos tapped rapidly against the owner's desk, glaring at the report from Ultra Magnus.

“If you bothered to pay attention, you would have heard me when I said the breach in the ship had us LOSE much of our stock, as well as how quick we went through our repair supplies... We can refuel and pick up more once we hit the next stop off, but we may be stationed at the outpost longer than you'd like.”

The prime sighed. “Longer as in a few vorns or-”

“Cycles. We have to wait for them to get us what we want if they don't have it.”

“Slag. Well… Damn. Okay, I guess we don't really have a choice- Set a course for the nearest outpost, tell the crew they're getting a… surprise few days of tourism to go run around and do whatever it is they please.”

“...That's not-” Ultra Magnus sighed. “That's bound to lead to trouble.”

“You wanna explain to everyone they're grounded to their rooms while we're parked and picking up supplies?”

Ultra Magnus sighed. “No…”

“That's what I thought. Plot a course! Let's get moving, the ship isn't gonna fuel itself!”

–---

Legs carried them desperately, ducking and weaving along unshipped cargo and barrels of fuel.

They had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep quiet, keep running. Your lungs burned, feeling like hot embers were popping in your bronchial tubes, making them hiss and whine quietly as they flex, their feet thumping quietly, trying to run on the balls of their feet as they scurried through the shipping bay.

They had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep running, keep pushing and going, it can't stop, if they stop they're FUCKED so utterly fucked-

“♠︎£°▪︎¤#%¡¡¿ ~×&%ꕥ˚꒦꒷꒷﹆¡¡”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-

They ducked down between two shipping containers that barely had enough space that they could squeeze between, cutting down the row and looking around.

Where to go. They had to hide, running wasn't going to work, they were so much bigger, so much stronger and faster and smarter- but they could be crafty. Ohoho and could be sneaky.

….I mean they couldn't see shit but. Well. That would just be an obstacle to work past.

The organic looked around, squinting while leaning back against a crate… and stumbled some, feeling the massive box's frame was warped. Frowning, it looked up, and noticed a small, dark spot waaay up at the lid.

….Hole. That had a hole.

Hopefully, a hole the human could wedge itself into.

To the right, they spotted some metal pallets…and started climbing, grunting and huffing with effort. The makeshift knapsack weighed them down some, but they kept moving, desperate for an escape, for freedom. The fleshy's hands slip at one point and they drop, letting out a pain-filled wheeze and hearing a nasty, wet crack.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it, don't do it. Barely even slowing down, the human heaves themself up, panting. Their free hand reaches over…and they whine as they clench the break, sliding the bone into…relative place. It looked…okay. Perfectly fine. Yes.

Absolutely. Couldn't even tell it had a staircase break.

….Time to climb again.

The human sighed and began scrabbling up, wincing and trying to ignore the obvious injury it had. They didn't have time to worry about that, and they needed to get to safety-

“^^□●₩◆°°°▪︎°%”

Fuck. Those fucking robots were close.

One pallet, two, three, four, six, eight-

When the organic reached the top of the pallets stack, they looked over to that crate, judged the little distance you could out…

And leapt across the gap, purposefully overshooting the edge so it wouldn't miss but stumbled and landed hard, cracking their already damaged arm, letting out a yelp of pain.

“!#$♤♤□♡°•°¡¡”

Time to hurry. That sounded very aggressive.

Feeling along the edge of the crate, they finally found the hole… and blindly smushed themselves inside, falling a small distance onto a pile of…something.

Cabling? It felt like cables, it had the outer layer of rubbery plastic…

Geez it was dark.

……Geez it was really dark.

They heard metallic footsteps storm closer, and the little organic being covered their mouth, taking slow breaths to try and stifle the sounds of being… well, alive.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, the dark slowly pressing more and more in on you, stifling and terrifying but at the same time a sanctuary, a safety net. They listened as those pedes paced about, searching, scouring, seeking them out. They heard the strange “Vrr wrr chtcht chitter krr bzrtkr krrrzst” that was their strange natural language. Aggressive tones. Still mad. They heard…

….

They heard beeping. Something is getting closer, beeping is getting louder. Heard new footsteps, old ones fleeing once the shouting began. Heard the beep directly outside their cable sanctuary.

And then… felt movement. The crate jostled and shook, and you held your breath, waiting for the lid to be ripped off and you to be found….

But…that didn't happen. Instead…. the crate moved. And you were moving along with it, whether you wanted to or not.

There was chatter, again. Lots of chatter. Then there was an obnoxiously loud beep near one side of the crate, another more.. blippy-beep next to that spot…And the crate moved once more, rattling a bit, before there was a hiss, a soft thud and the sound of pedes leaving.

The little human stayed in that crate. Stayed in it for hours.

And then there was a new noise. A louder noise. A deep, thrumming, hum, that evolved into a bone and brain rattling roar, of impossible machinery kicking in, engines revving, turbines whirling, and a feeling like, for a brief moment, their soul was pulled from their body.

When they felt relatively normal again, the human slowly peeked out from the hole in the crate, and squinted.

They had a feeling they were on another stupid ship.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #reader insert #tf x human #tf x reader #first contact au #first contact #maccadam #squibs writes

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