*GIF not mine*
Summary: Michael needs to see you. It’s been three days after being shot by Luca Changretta’s men, and he knows you need to see him too--especially since you’re chained up against his headboard for trying to escape from him too many times.
A/N: I mean gotta admit I’m in a yandere Michael Gray kinda mood, and there’s only like two fics of that out there :( Gotta do whatcha gotta do ig. Enjoy!
Word count: 3068
Polly’s grip on your wrist is so tight you can barely feel the tips of your bluing fingers. You’re used to such pain, though; underneath her hand are more permanent, more reddened markings from the handcuffs you had been wearing before Polly had found you.
“We’re almost there,” she mumbled under her breath, head snapping back and forth every few minutes to search each room you passed. Your feet and calves ached from the pace she had set for the two of you, quick and impatient ever since you’d stepped out of Michael’s townhouse. You hadn’t moved this far, this fast for months.
Not since you first tried to escape Michael.
Even now, you couldn’t breathe. Every gasp of air was caught in your throat, choking you slowly while tasting of antiseptic. A sort of panic-stricken excitement ran through your body from being outside the gray walls of Michael’s home for the first time in who knew how long.
Just hours ago that was where you had been, one hand secured in a metal cuff that only reached as far as the bathroom, the other end of which was placed around Michael’s headboard.
You knew something had gone awry when Michael hadn’t returned home to deliver you your usual meal every six hours for a straight three days; when he hadn’t shyly knocked on the door to his own bedroom, a tray of homemade cooking in his hands and an innocent smile on his face; “I made you something, love.”
Three straight days. Your stomach rumbled as a reminder even now.
“Speed up now, won’t you,” Polly ordered, still frantically pushing the pair of you past marble hallways filled with nurses and patients roaming. “The room is up here.”
You’d given up asking what had happened to Michael. Polly was unresponsive to your every question, too focused on lugging you behind her to say anything else but “He’s been asking for you.”
When you had first heard the door unlock to Michael’s house this morning, you had thought it was him. “Where the hell have you been?” you’d called, a disturbing hint of relief in your frustrated tone. If he was going to lock you up like an animal, you’d thought to yourself, he should at least have planned for times like this where he doesn’t show up for days.
But the second you heard the footsteps up the stairs sound lighter than normal, you sat up at attention in the bed, eyes locked on the doorway. Who…?
Polly. Polly who had almost been hanged, who was now addicted to pills and thought she could see spirits, who was a strong, capable woman that defended others and cared deeply for her family. This was how Michael described his mother to you. He’d wanted you to meet her so badly, but only when you were ready--complaisant was what he really meant.
“You must be YN,” she’d said breathlessly, pausing only a second to study your situation.
You swallowed, unmoving from your spot on the bed. “Yes.” She was the first person you’d seen for so long aside from Michael.
Then she produced a key from the pocket of her coat and approached you swiftly.
“Yes, yes--please,” you held up your cuffed hand before her, eyes watering with relief, “please, you must get me out of here. He’s kept me here so long.” Finally, someone had come to save you, you thought. You were leaving this place forever.
When that small voice in the back of your mind whispered, “What about Michael?” you ignored it.
The metal chains had hit the floor with soft clangs, and she’d pocketed the key once again. You remembered rubbing a hand over the sore skin of your wrist, eyes wide with wonderment at the sight of your hand unaccompanied by gray metal.
Then Polly’s hand replaced your own, tight and unforgiving as she tugged at your arm. “Come along now,” she ushered you out of the house, you willingly following her like a ragdoll. “He wants to see you.”
“What?” That’s not what you had expected her to say.
“He’s been asking for you.”
You never bothered to ask who. After all, you should have never thought Michael’s mother had come to save you.
Gangsters, you told yourself. Criminal scum, the lot of them. You should have never taken a walk down the streets of Birmingham, and you should have never smiled at Michael Gray.
“They’re asleep, fuckin’ lazy scumbags,” Polly spat, slowing her pace when she caught sight of one of the larger hospital rooms. She didn’t let up on your wrist but instead pushed you into the room first before following.
Michael.
What happened to him?
Half of his upper body was wrapped in white surgical tape, while the other half was blanched enough to rival the tape’s color. His eyes were closed, puffy and rimmed with dark circles that hung over prominent cheekbones like upended crescent moons. His pale, chapped lips were held in a thin line that twitched at the new, noisier presences in the room.
A shiver traveled down your spine at the sight of him in such a way, and suddenly your hands trembled at your sides. You couldn’t feel the pain in your wrist anymore.
“On your feet,” you heard behind you. A few moments, and some rustling. “Wait outside.”
The door clicked behind you, then it clicked again. Locked. Polly came up from behind you a second later, ignoring your presence completely as she set two flasks of alcohol on the table of Michael’s hospital bed before pulling up a chair beside him.
Tugging off her coat, she moved to lay it over Michael’s legs until he spoke.
“Mum,” he mumbled blindly, his voice raw and strained from lack of use.
“Michael,” Polly cooed then, leaning in closer over him to dab his face with a rag. He was so broken that moving his lips to talk was strenuous enough to break a sweat. Even his fingers twitched slowly, weakly. You’d never seen him so frail and battered.
Your heart stuttered in an unsettling way.
“Is she-”
“Don’t move.” She soaked up the perspiration on his brow next, humming warningly. “You took four bullets.”
“But-”
“She’s here--the girl. I brought her like you asked.” Polly didn’t spare you a glance, not that you noticed. You were frozen in place, gaze still wandering over each wrap on his body. One, two, three, four bullets. He’s still alive. He’s still alive.
“YN,” he murmured, eyes opening a sliver. “YN. You’re here.”
You took a step toward him instinctively, hand raising from your side, before realizing your mistake and steadying yourself in place.
A smile tugged at his lips, paining him somewhat but not stopping him. He moved to sit up, to reach out for you as well, but a groan forced its way from him when he tried. With furrowed brows, he sucked a breath through his teeth and clenched his eyes shut.
Polly inhaled all the meanwhile, hovering her hands over his form to stop him from moving any more. “What did I tell you? Lie back.”
“YN, please, come closer, love.”
Polly turned her gaze towards you, accusatory. “Come!” she ordered, gesturing with her head to Michael’s other side. Her gaze fell back on him again when you drew closer to the bed, and her hard face softened.
Even with eyes struggling to stay open, Michael’s stare was adoring upon you. Like always, he stared at you as though you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. You’d been under that loving, worshiping gaze for months now. Even now, it placed such a heavy weight on your chest that you found yourself stumbling closer, only flinching away when your fingertips made contact with his arm.
He drew you in like a moth to a flame ever since you first met. Only after he’d locked you up in his house did your feelings for him leave a disgusting taste on your tongue.
You stayed a few inches apart from him, ignoring how his hand struggled at his side to reach for you.
“Love, please. I want to feel you. I need to know you’re really here.”
Two pairs of eyes were on you then. Polly’s glared like a coiled snake, and Michael’s pleaded like a puppy dog.
You edged closer, letting your hand drop on top of his. Quickly, Michael maneuvered your fingers to interlock with his, and he sighed in relief. You forced your attention away from the warmth spreading in the center of your chest and onto Polly, who dug through her bag.
“I’ve missed you so much, love.” His thumb ran over your knuckles. “I was so afraid I’d never get to see you again. I was so scared I was never going to hold you again.”
His words wrapped around you like a weighted blanket, heavy and overbearing yet warm and comforting. You wanted to throw up.
“Michael,” Polly gathered his attention somehow, pulling his face toward hers as she laid out a pamphlet on his bedside. Australia, it read. “Please listen. John’s dead, and this whole town’s fucked. We need to get out of here.”
“No,” he grunted, hand squeezing yours.
She rolled her eyes. “You can take the girl. Just listen--there’s no mafia, no fucking American gangsters in Australia. Now, the doctor said you can walk in five weeks, and the boat leaves February thirteenth. That gives us plenty of time.”
Five weeks. You glanced at Michael’s form, practically curling in on itself in pain. It was only held together by stitches and strips of cloth. He wouldn’t be out of the hospital for months, even if he could walk.
“We’re not going anywhere, Mum.”
But you could. How could he possibly come after you, stuck here like a mummified corpse with four bullet holes in it. Without him to lock you up in his house, to tie you down and feed you and hold you, you could escape him easily. You would never have to see Michael again.
Your stomach growled, drawing Michael’s attention. His face fell into despair at the sound, and his eyes fluttered closed in regret. “YN, fuck, I’m so sorry. I never thought something like this would happen.”
“Michael, please,” Polly begged, “we must go there and see your sister.”
“Mum, later.” He looked back at you, face riddled with guilt. “Love, I’m sorry you were alone for so long.”
“Michael-”
“Mum!” His head snapped back to her, frustration barely concealed in his tone. “Please. Just go call Tommy and tell him to bring me a gun for the room. Business needs to be done first before we take any trips.”
“Michael, it’s not safe. Not if we stay here. Tommy cannot protect us.”
“Not if you don’t help him, Mum. Please,” he lay his other hand over the pamphlet, pursing his lips before pressing it closed once more in her grasp, “help Tommy first. Help the company first, then I promise we’ll board that train to Australia to go see Anna.”
Tears began trailing down Polly’s face, and you glanced away out of courtesy. Michael was so different with his mother than he was with you. Around you, he treated you like you could do no wrong. Like you were the perfect woman, the perfect wife. Sometimes he held you as though you were made of glass, and other times he almost broke your ribs in his tight embraces. He’d whisper to you at night about how you were his greatest achievement, his greatest gift.
With his mother, now, he treated her as though she were a five-year-old in need of constant supervision and direction. Michael had vaguely told you about the situation with his mother, how he’d only first met her a couple years ago, but never much more than that. You had a feeling that if the Polly in front of you now were in any better shape, that same Polly that so clearly wanted you to act like a better girlfriend to her son and had dragged you down streets and through alleys just for him, then she would never give Michael’s orders a second thought.
Polly nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks with gloved hands with a willing, yet trembling, smile. “Fine.” She rose to her feet, grasping her purse off the nightstand and shoving the pamphlet inside. “Fine. I’ll go see Tommy.”
She moved to leave, snatching the two flasks off the table in the meantime, before she seemed to remember something. She turned back to Michael again, and her gaze flitted to yours once.
“The girl. I saw the state she was in, Michael.”
He tensed, and as a result your hand twinged in pain.
“Do you want me to take her back to the house?”
All of the tension left Michael’s body in a single sigh, and he shook his head once. “No,” he smiled softly, “I want YN to stay with me here.”
She nodded slowly, eyes falling on you one final time before she disappeared out the door. When it clicked shut, Michael’s gaze latched onto you, half-lidded, exhausted, but still very much attentive to you.
“You will, won’t you? Stay with me here, I mean?”
Silence fell over the room. You stared down at the man who just days ago had towered over you on his own bed, hands and lips all over you, owning you.
“You know why I do this, love, don’t you?” he’d always say, lips running over the raw skin of your wrist, free of the cuff whenever he was present. “It’s because I need you.” Another kiss. “I will always need you.”
Then you twisted your hand from his grasp, backing away from the bed with flared nostrils. “I,” you shook your head, “I don’t know.”
“No, no, love, please, don’t do this to me.” Michael grunted and groaned as he fumbled against the sheets, body fighting against his urge to move. His arms raised slowly and weakly from his sides as if each had been strapped down with weights. When he reached out for you, the sweat on his wrinkled brow glistened in the sunlight.
“Don’t, please. I love you so much, love, don’t do this to me.”
You wanted to argue with logic. You wanted to twist his words and say, well how could you do that to me for all that time, huh? How could you tell me you love me every day, knowing that the only reason I have to listen to you is because of the prison walls around me? If you really loved me, how could you do that to me?
But you didn’t because--it seemed--he’d finally got what he’d wanted. Oh how you missed the days where he’d begged and pleaded with you to love him and understand him, and how you missed those times where you said you didn’t and that you hated him. And you missed when those words were the truth, because it meant he hadn’t beaten you into submission.
Yet.
But he was winning, wasn’t he now?
As he breathed faster and perspired harder and called your name louder, you rounded the bed, still just out of his grasp, before settling down into Polly’s former seat.
Right then, he quieted himself like a sated child sucking on a pacifier.
“Fine, then.” You spat, more angry at yourself than you could ever be at him--because look what you’d allowed him to do to you. “Fine, you fucking win.”
He remained silent.
“I’ll stay here with you. And five weeks from now, I’ll still fucking be here, helping you stand up and walk around. And then soon after we’ll go to fucking Australia with your mother. And then after that I’ll fucking follow you there too, won’t I?” You were disgusted with yourself, with the feelings he’d force-fed into you until they were all you wanted.
Then you grabbed his hand, still reaching for you from the side of the hospital bed, and intertwined your fingers. Perfect, you’d thought, a perfect fucking fit.
Michael pulled the pair of hands up to his lips, kissing along your knuckles and smiling all the while. “Thank you, love.” His lips trailed up your arm. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss.
He tugged you closer and closer still, waiting until you leant over him enough to pull your lips onto his.
You had lost this battle against your own feelings long before Polly had dragged you out of the house, you realized. It was long before the day he’d first missed his meal with you, and you knew it because instead of wondering if you were going to be fed by your captor, you wondered if the man you loved was ever going to come home to you again.
You also knew it when his lips separated from yours for a breath, and he wasn’t the only one who had chased for a second chance at the kiss.
“Stay with me always, love,” he mumbled against your lips. “I need you. I’ll always fucking need you.”
“I know,” you leaned your forehead against his, running your fingertips over his lips, his cheek, his hair.
“I won’t ever leave you again, love. I promise.” His hands cupped your face, holding you in place just an inch away so you could feel his words on your lips. “I won’t ever let anyone take me away from you.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” you murmured, tearing your gaze away from his to stare down at the tape lacing his battered form. You hovered a hand over the strips, wondering where each of the four bullet holes was.
“And nobody will take you from me,” he tapped your chin, pulling your attention back to his face, “right, love?”
“Never, Michael.” You shook your head, nose brushing his. “Never.”
“That’s right,” he hummed under his breath. “Never.”
Part 2
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Fish don’t survive in coffee. You find that out the hard way.
A/N: My God, I love this one so much. Please enjoy!
Word count: 1486
“Man, you are whipped for her!” Todoroki rolls his eyes at the statement.
“No, I’m not.”
“You liar, you totally like YN!” Kaminari pokes his classmate’s arm obnoxiously.
“I don’t like her, so stop going around saying that,” Todoroki monotonously responded.
The class froze at the sound of a crash and a scream in the hallway. Suddenly, Mina bursts breathlessly into the room, her eyes wide with terror.
“Yn fell in the hallway and-”
Todoroki’s hand bursts into flames on his desk, leaving burns in the wood.
“Is she okay?!” He doesn’t wait for an answer before pushing past Mina and sprinting out into the hall.
“YN!”
He finds you collapsed on your knees in the middle of the corridor with puffy eyes and red cheeks.
“I dropped the fish tank.” You sniffle and shyly hold up a filled coffee cup with an orange creature floating ominously at the surface. “I don’t think Mr. Bubbles is gonna make it.” Your voice is tight with sadness as you stare ashamed into the overflowing cup.
“Yn, I’m so sorry.”
“Can you make some water for him or something?” Your eyes glowed with hope as you stared up at him.
“I don’t think-”
“Please?” Todoroki sighs and gives in, taking a seat next to you on the ground and cupping his hands. In the one, he creates ice, and then proceeds to use the other to melt it.
With his fingers clumped tightly together to form a makeshift bowl of water, Todoroki tries not to grimace at the slimy texture of the fish you plop into his hand.
Mr. Bubbles doesn’t move.
“Maybe he’s just sleeping,” you say hopefully, your eyes locked on the guppy.
“Maybe he’s dead.” Todoroki observes your face for a reaction, but you simply bite your lip with drying eyes.
“Maybe you’re right,” you mutter before groaning and dropping your face into your hands. Todoroki shifts uncomfortably and sneers at the dead fish floating in his grasp.
“What should we do?” you ask. Todoroki’s eyes trail to you before glancing at the nearby courtyard, then returning to your face once more. Catching his drift, you gasp dramatically.
“No, I am not leaving him for dead in the middle of the school yard!”
“He’s already dead.”
“I don’t care!” After standing up, you help Todoroki to his feet and cross your arms indignantly.
“We should hold a funeral in the bathroom!” You smack your hands together as if you’ve just discovered the cure for cancer. “It’s genius! And tasteful!”
“Or we could leave some bird a generous meal in the school courtyard.” You give him a withering glare.
“All those in favor of holding a memorial service for our beloved Mr. Bubbles, raise your hand.” You raise your hand at your own suggestion then ask, “All those opposed?” Todoroki narrows his eyes at you. Even if he tried to “oppose,” water and dead fish would spill everywhere.
“It seems we’ve come to a compromise.” You smile happily at him and clap excitedly.
“That was, in no way, a compromise.” The emotion of Todoroki’s face is emptier than a teenage boy’s search history, but you try to ignore how it still manages to make your heart race.
“No matter! Follow me,” you announce, directing Todoroki to the nearest bathroom... it’s the women’s room.
“YN no-“ you giddily shove him in with a little too much force and Mr. Bubbles goes on a once in a lifetime (or is it death time?) flight. You both watch in horror as he falls to the ground with a squelching “splat.”
Nobody makes a sound, completely aghast at the crime scene. The bathroom is hauntingly silent except for the gentle buzzing of the fluorescent lights.
“I’m not picking him up!” Todoroki mumbles and you shout at the same time, voices clashing noisily. Neither of you wanted to touch the corpse. Swiftly, you look over at your partner in crime and nod your head towards the fish once, twice, three times all the while he’s shaking his head.
“No way, I already picked up that thing once. It’s your turn.”
“Oh come on!”
“Plus, you killed it.” You gasp offensively while he raises his brows. The staredown doesn’t last long and you eventually throw in the towel, pursing your lips and rolling your eyes. Shoes squeaking against the tile, you skulk your way over to the fish.
“Fine.” Crouching low, you investigate Mr. Bubbles from multiple angles, trying to deduct the best method of transfer.
“He’s not just gonna flop himself in, you know.” You hurl a murderous look at Todoroki for the quip before reaching out with pinched fingers towards your flubby friend.
“God, this is a bloodbath,” you grimace before tentatively snagging a fin and holding back a gag at it’s slippery texture.
“Grossgrossgrossgrossgross,” you repeat all the way to the toilet, unceremoniously tossing Mr. Bubbles into the bowl like a sack of flour. “Oh my Godddd!” you choke out, darting over to the sink and almost slipping in the water puddle Todoroki left on the way.
While you clean your hands, your companion peers in at a floating Mr. Bubbles, blanching at the sight of the fish’s blank, bulging eye staring unblinkingly at him. He backs away slowly and you join him by his side, gulping nervously.
“Let’s get the party started, shall we?” you ask with a shaky smile.
“Sure” is Todoroki’s lame response. You scoff before clearing your throat.
“Well, Mr. Bubbles, you lived a good, long life-”
“About two weeks.”
“And it’s a shame to see you go like this.”
“Just to be clear, we know it wasn’t your fault-”
“Zip it, Shouto!” You point a trembling finger at him threateningly and he raises his hands in surrender.
“Anyways, even though I tried my very best to save you-”
“You scooped him into Aizawa’s coffee mug.”
“It’s still a sad day to watch you go. We will always cherish the memories we shared with you-”
“Yep, those two that we made. The one where we bought him for two bucks and the other where you overfed him and gave him fish diabetes-”
“Do you know how it feels to be strangled? Because you’re about to find out.” Arms akimbo, you stare at Todoroki with fierce, wide eyes. He shrugs. “That’s what I thought,” you nodded.
As you ramble on to your beloved fish friend, Todoroki can’t help but zone out and think about the situation he has found himself in. For the first time in his life, he’s ditching a class in school, and it’s only to throw a funeral for an over-caffeinated guppy. With anyone else, he would have left twenty minutes ago, but right now he wanted to stay. You were here, and Todoroki never knew why, but he always felt drawn to your presence. He had only known you for two months, but something about you made him want to break down the walls he had built up over the years. You were different, and you valued every moment of life you had. He adored that about you.
Geez, maybe he was whipped.
The gentle beating in his chest soon rivaled that of a racing stampede of elephants when you scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Your heart sped up too, but you didn’t care to mention it. Instead, you chose to release a shaky breath when his arm slowly encompassed your shoulders.
“Um,” you swallow, “did you want to say anything?”
Todoroki held in a snort. “No, I’m plenty good.” The room fell into silence once more, but the atmosphere wasn’t solemn for a dead fish funeral. It was tense and shy, filled with teenage anxiousness that only arose when two requited crushes were together in one room. Todoroki started to grow uncomfortable, though.
“So are you gonna flush him or...?” he trails off.
“Oh yeah.” You lick your lips nervously and step out of his warm embrace before pressing down the handle. “Goodbye Mr. Bubbles. We wish you well on your journey to the... I don’t know, water heavens or something.” You step away with a shrug back into Todoroki’s hold. All is peaceful, until....
Clunk clunk.
Oh crap.
Both of you watch in horror as the toilet clogs, water rising higher and higher until it overflows, carrying the dead fish with it. Yours and Todoroki’s eyes follow the journey of Mr. Bubbles as he rides a wave all the way to the tips of your shoes, stopping perfectly to stare up at the two of you with vacant, enlarged pupils.
You sigh and smack your palm against your face. “I’ll go get the janitor.”
“I told you we should’ve just hucked him.”
“Shut it, Shouto.”
Jsjsisjsisjsis I just want to know the reason why you are so underrated 😩🥺 LIKE SJSHSKS YOUR WRITING IS SO PERFECT I preach it ngl 😾❤️
Gonna give you all the love and support I have for you 😭😭✨✨✨
I love you and your writing style!! It’s so detailed and serene to me while I read it 😌
DUDDDDEEE YOURE MAKING ME BLUSH STOPPPP🥰🥰🥰
Thank you so much for the kind words! Really, I never expected even this much support when I started, so to get comments from such nice people is like a dream come true right now🥺💜 I’m so happy you like what I write and how I write, and I look forward to writing more now that I’ve seen this comment😚 thank you💜💜
And you deserve so many more!! Congrats on the milestone, and I can’t wait to see you meet so many more🥳🥳💜💜
I can’t freaking believe this.
Freaking 50 followers… I absolutely cannot believe this would happen to me. At first I had hoped that I would at least get like 20 or something but I did not expect 50
Thank you guys so much!! I’m honestly so happy at this moment and I want to cry cuz each and everyone of you are amazing for going out of your way to follow me, a stupid teenager with a dream. Thank yall so much TwT
I would tag each and everyone of you to show my appreciation but I have no idea if yall would be ok with that so I wont
But I’m going to tag my friends lol
@pswaney12 @oreosmama @nakochan @bloodyphoenix
Did you have a quotev under this same username at some point?
Hmm I don’t think so, but then again I made like a bajillion accounts when I was younger. Who really knows🤷♀️
Lapse In Judgement hurt me so much 🥺 I just want to give Osamu and y/n a big hug. Do you plan on making a part 2?
Well, I didn’t originally plan on making a second part, and I’m not quite sure what I could do. I’m glad you enjoyed it, though!
If you would like a part two, I would love to hear any ideas you might have for it, as I’m kinda clueless on where to go with it😐
Again, requests are still “closed,” but honestly, that just means I’m taking a looooong time to work through the requests I have rn. If you really want to send smth in now, I will write it, but I probably won’t get it out for like a few weeks to a month.
*GIF not mine*
Summary: You don’t need a mate right now; you’ve got more important things, like revenge, on your mind. But the Alpha King needs a mate to take his throne, and now he’s come to town to take you.
A/N: okay, tell me if I’m wrong but like y’all have read this plot eighty bajillion times on Wattpad before, right? Ehh, I literally thought of it in the shower and it might be some sort of stealing from some unknown author I read back when I was a young, young Oreosmama, but I’m still gonna post it for now bc I like it. I channeled my inner Wattpad writer for this too so I hope you enjoy!
Word count: 4244
Someone should have told the Alpha King that lining up one thousand-something girls shoulder to shoulder in ninety degree weather was a mistake waiting to happen.
“Achoo!”
Your sneeze caught the attention--and glares--of the six or so girls lined up on either side of you, each with their own individual reactions. The girl directly to your left, for instance, smiled pityingly and passed you a kleenex from a package sitting in her purse just beside her feet.
“I get allergies too,” she shrugged, “always good to keep some handy, don’t you think?” Mustering the most sincere grin you could, you nodded in thanks and accepted the tissue.
Sweat dripped down your temple and slid down far enough to disappear under the color of your windbreaker, a piece of clothing that had made you the outcast of the day evidently.
You didn’t care. You wore it for a reason.
As more pollen tickled your nose, you leaned forward just a bit to see how far away the man traveling down the line was. Good, you thought, I still have enough time.
Though he was just a tiny speck from your place somewhere in the middle-end range of the line, you could feel the tension he was inflicting on his audience.
The Alpha King. Like all his fathers before him, he was traveling from town to town in search of his predestined mate so he could finally take his place on the throne. He was the ripe age of twenty and, according to all the times you had seen him on the news, he was quite the looker.
Though technically illegitimate because his father and mother had produced him before marriage, the Alpha King of this century was especially distinctive for an entirely different reason--he was hot.
With blond hair that always seemed to be ruffled and crimson irises that could singe off your eyebrows, Katsuki Bakugou was a young king known to all. Even grandmothers, though they disapproved of his less-than mannerly attitude, still swooned at his natural beauty.
Every time you saw him on TV when you were younger, he would always have that permanent scowl etched on his face. And, like most other girls at the time, you wished you could have been the one to turn it upside down.
Then you grew up and realized he didn’t really matter. At least not to you.
He was just another alpha, albeit the one of the largest pack in the world. Unlike most packs, the Bakugous’ numbers reached into the hundred millions and had towns scattered all over the nation. They were known to be untouchable, and it was an honor to be a part of them.
“God, could this go any slower?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise at the groan of the girl next to you. Though she seemed even less interested in the event happening around her with gum smacking and eyes rolling, it seemed her family had at least convinced--or maybe forced--her into a dress that made her blend well with the other girls.
Well, at least you weren’t entirely alone in your dreading of this process.
The process itself wasn’t particularly a rager but it was a sacred tradition that the Bakugou pack insisted on continuing. This was how the Luna Queen was found, wherever she was.
You just wished she’d show up soon so you could get this show on the road.
Bakugou Katsuki, however, seemed to be taking his sweet time sniffing down the line of women in the open field of your hometown. Parents and other not-of-age people were forced to stay in their homes so as to not interfere with this careful procedure, and that was the one thing you were thankful for--the one thing you were looking forward to.
Now, you just had to wait for the bodyguard of your particular clump of women to step away so the king could smell each of you individually. Mates’ scents are supposed to stand out in crowds of millions, but after one particular sick incident so many centuries ago where a certain Alpha King ended up with a stuffy nose, they decided to leave the kings unescorted as they walked along the line.
And so here you were, waiting ever so patiently for Mr. Rhinoceros-neck to step back and away to join the rest of his fellow betas as they guarded the king from a calculated distance of seventy feet.
But, of course, Bakugou Katsuki was taking his sweet time.
Part of you almost pitied the girls beside you, obviously making the mistake of not wearing sunscreen. You memorized the day's exact weather report and were determined to not let even a sunburn stop you from your mission.
Though, maybe a reapplication wouldn’t hurt since you seemed to be sweating off your first layer of SPF 60. Perhaps the windbreaker you zipped over a thick black sweatshirt was a bit of overkill but it was all part of your plot.
Heat strokes be damned--you were not screwing up today.
Twenty minutes crawled by at a snail’s pace and in that time, the scent of deodorant and perfume reached its crescendo. Girls in skin-tight, above-the-knee dresses reapplied just a touch of antiperspirant with ease as the Alpha King made his way closer and closer to your gaggle of a hundred or so women. The other girls who had gone with more modest skirts and dressy blouses, however, had a bit more trouble tackling the B.O. issue.
The sun reached its peak in the sky and you checked your phone to make sure you hadn’t counted wrong.
Nope, no mistakes here. Four hours you’d been standing in that line with Miss Smacks-her-gum on your right and Lady Kleenex on your left. Smacks-her-gum had made the mistake of not wearing sweatproof mascara but you weren’t going to tell her that anytime soon. Trapped in a black leather jacket over a poofy black skirt that tickled your own legs beneath their leggings, she looked about two seconds from blowing her top or passing out--you hoped you weren’t going to be around to see either.
“Ooh, he’s getting closer,” Kleenex squeaked out, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger out of habit. “Damn, he’s so cute.” She glanced back at you with a nervous smile. “I really do wish I was his mate but, God, what are the odds, right?”
“Yeah,” you breathed out with a friendly smile, waiting until she returned her attention to the direction of the Alpha King, for she would be the first one he sniffed of your little trio, before dropping the smile entirely, “what are the odds.”
Now!
Rhinoceros-neck glanced up and down your row one more time from thirty feet away to make sure no one had left before leaving his post, a sure sign that the group of bodyguard betas wasn’t too far behind.
If even one of them saw you, the plan would be ruined. You had to make this quick.
Unzipping your windbreaker, you shrugged it off your shoulders and pulled it free of you entirely, feeling for the binder clips in the front pocket as you did so. Then you zipped it back up and shoved a scrunched wrist under each clip.
“What are you doing?” The girl in the leather jacket seemed less pissed off than you expected, that was until you tried to attach the binder clip to her jacket-shoulder.
“Don’t mind me, I just can’t stick around long,” you mumbled, too busy to expand on just how dumb your plan was with attaching the other clip to Kleenex girl’s shoulder cutouts of her blouse.
Yes, perhaps it was all based on the slim-to-none chance you had of lucking out so stupidly that an entire group of betas and an Alpha King literally overlooked your existence, but it was your only chance of escaping scot free. All you needed was for it to look like a person was there.
You’d done your research, and you’d done it well. You knew Bakugou Katsuki was a pissy man, but you also knew he never made eye contact with women while he went down his lines. Part of it was out of respect as due the tradition’s requirements, but part of it was to make the entire process faster. Women were beautiful all over, but finding your true mate depended on all of your senses, not just one.
If his peripheral vision was as useless as you hoped, you could make a clear getaway and go on your true mission. As fun as it was to participate in the Alpha King’s police lineup of one-thousand women for four hours, you had other things to do with your life.
Like finding that deadbeat father of yours.
You stepped back and inspected your windbreaker, fluffing it out here and there while the two girls it was attached to tried to crane their necks back far enough to ask you what the hell was happening.
You didn’t respond to their questions, instead kicking off the flats you’d allowed your mom to shove on your feet and placing them in the exact place they’d been for the last two hours, easily found due to the matted down grass. Attached to the backpack you’d brought that sat behind you like all other girls had done with their purses and such were a pair of combat boots, the laces strung around the straps of the black bag.
All dark colors, all practically invisible in the forest you planned on escaping through.
Past your group of one hundred girls was another group of the same number before all the women of the town finally ran out and the edge of the farm’s field met a forest. The owner of the wheat field that had been so viciously attacking your nose for the better part of your morning had been paid handsomely for his participation in this town and century’s search of the Luna Queen, just as his ancestors had been.
The forest was thick and ran for miles far and wide, while on the complete other side of the field sat the rest of the town waiting for the Alpha King’s verdict.
Queen or no Queen? they all wondered.
Shit, did I grab that extra protein bar? you wondered.
The grass was wonderfully cool on your sock-covered feet as you untied your boots, glancing up once or twice and going on your tiptoes to see how fast the Alpha King was moving at this point. Surely he was growing tired of this just as you wished he’d take even more time.
A blond head bobbed past fifty or so girls down, proving yourself correct. He was going faster.
“Shit,” you hissed, kneeling down to lace up the boots, only to catch a faceful of dirt courtesy of Leather Girl’s gothic boots.
“What the hell are you doing down there?” she spat, Kleenex girl nodding with the same curiosity.
“I’m gonna go for a stroll.” You returned your gaze to the boots, lacing the last one up faster before a blond or a boot could stop you.
“What about the king?”
“What about him?” You rose to your feet and swung the backpack’s straps over your shoulders, tightening them for a mad dash you prayed wouldn’t have to happen.
“Why are you just up and leaving now? You could be caught and get in serious trouble,” Kleenex piped up innocently. Her eyes were glimmering with concern, an emotion you knew was much undeserved for someone like yourself about to do something so stupid.
“No I won’t,” you shook your head and gestured to the jacket clipped between the two girls. You adjusted the clips so the windbreaker didn’t slump as much, but it was almost an impossible task due to the eight-inch difference between the two of them. “If you guys keep that up, we’ll all survive this. Just play it cool.”
Both pairs of eyes on you bulged as you traveled toward the woods instead of the town where they thought you were leaving to. The girl in the leather jacket caught your hand in the nick of time, tugging you back hard enough that you were face to face with both girls. The movement behind their backs distracted other girls in line whose attention you really didn’t need at this point so you yanked your hand away with a glare.
A flare of guilt lit up your stomach at the worry in both girls’ gazes, but you couldn’t stop the question escaping your lips. “What do you want?”
“What if they catch you?”
“They won’t.”
Leather Jacket gave you a deadpan look. “What if they notice you’re gone?”
“I’ll be gone by then, hopefully,” you stared down at the hand still reaching for your wrist for emphasis.
“Well, what about your family?”
The question made you tense and your eyes flashed. “They’ll be fine,” you gritted out. You were doing this for them after all, and all of it was explained in the neatly folded letter still in the pocket of your windbreaker.
They would understand. They’d have to.
“Fine then,” Leather Jacket shrugged, forcing a strand of black hair back behind her ear. “Just be safe.”
Finally, something you wanted--yet didn’t exactly expect, especially from her--to hear.
Kleenex nodded in agreement and you smiled.
“Thanks.”
And then you left, crouching down and slipping behind the backs of a hundred girls you’d gone to school with for twelve years.
~~~
Katsuki kept his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on the grass below his shoes as he made his way down the third line that week. Hundredth line that month, with many more to come.
Kirishima and Kaminari snickered in the group behind him as he tripped on a sudden hole in the dirt, causing him to cuss and throw a glare back at them. “Zip it, you two.”
Both men straightened up and saluted him with pursed lips. “Yes sir.”
And then they broke off into laughter once more.
Katsuki’s lip curled back and he refrained from growling, knowing that he could scare any of the girls to his left and then he’d get an earful from his parents.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he strutted past each and every girl without even catching a whiff of something he even minded at that point. Instead, it was all the same. Flowery scents here and tropically scents there made his mind reel with a full-fledged headache. This town was bigger than the ones he was used to visiting, but a town was more preferable than a city any day--the populations were always too high for him to ever escape a scenting line in a short six hours.
Plus, quaint towns like this had his most favored landscape: small shops and cottages behind him with a wide forest surrounding, too thick to even see the sunrise and yet so clear that you could count the stars.
Not that he’d ever tell anyone he liked that.
Although, deep down he thought that if he ever did find his mate, a town like this was where he’d like to settle down after running the pack for long enough. Letting his wolf free in miles and miles of forest was a dream, and reminded him of his pack’s headquarters thousands of miles away from here.
At least I can see the end of the line now, he thought, reaching up a single hand to massage the back of his neck.
He estimated he’d be done in this town in another ten minutes. Then maybe he could convince his father’s Beta to let him roam through the forest for even just an hour before moving on.
Just a little faster now.
Of all the parts of scenting lines, his favorite part was definitely finishing them.
So close… so close.
Now, he could see the last girl--and the anxious smile on her face. Dear God, that poor thing thought she was the one. She definitely wasn’t the first, and he had to thank that no girl had jumped like the ones in the previous towns had.
All towns and cities had their weirdos, but Katsuki was especially pleased to find out that this town was astoundingly normal.
Well, maybe except for that one girl that was very obviously trying to make a break for it to the forest.
Well that’s a new one. Maybe he-
Mate.
The sweet scent of sugared pine and apple trees wafted into his nose, mixing with a slight pinch of spiced cinnamon. His eyes almost rolled back into his head and yet he couldn’t take them off the form sprinting behind the other girls.
Gasps filled his ears as Katsuki’s body stood at attention. But if that girl was his mate then how could he smell her…?
One look to his left and he saw a single maroon windbreaker, attached via what looked like binder clips to the clothing of the two women on either side of an empty space. Even a pair of shoes sat on the floor where his mate had stood, and wind forced the jacket to flutter in midair.
She ran away.
Something in Katsuki’s chest sank as he growled in frustration, ripping the windbreaker away from between the two girls and ignoring how they flinched before he pressed it to his nose, inhaling as much of the scent as he could.
Intoxicating.
He could feel his mind sharpen as he stepped away from the group of girls, turning his head once more to search for his mate.
A black form disappeared behind a collection of trees hundreds of feet away but he heard the crack of her stepping on a twig as clear as day.
“Kirishima,” he barked and the redhead appeared at his side. “Take these two into custody. They might know something.”
“Bakugou, did you find her?”
He kept his gaze locked on the trees.
“Yes, but take the other men with you. I want to find her alone.”
“But what if-”
“No,” he spat, blazing eyes almost setting Kirishima aflame, “I’m doing it alone. If even one of you gets near her or gets in my way, he’s not making it out of the forest alive.”
Kirishima nodded in understanding and whistled to the others, grabbing both girls as they whimpered in fear while waiting for better restraints.
Katsuki still kept his eyes locked on the forest edge, just where his mate had disappeared. It was only then that he noticed his hands were wringing the jacket of life, twisting it until it appeared to be tight as a spring waiting to uncoil.
Pressing his lips firm against one another, he unraveled the jacket, searching for something, anything that might give him a clue as to who you were and why you did what you did.
At last, he found a letter in the front right pocket, addressed to your own mother.
Dear Mom,
I’m going after him. I can’t let what he did to you slide, even if you say it was for the best.
With love,
YN
YN. At least now he had a name.
And it was perfect.
YN, your mate was going to find you whether you wanted him to or not.
And he wasn’t going to let you go.
~~~
There was no way you had escaped as smoothly as you thought you did. Even though you felt like every breath you took sounded like a trumpet announcing your location, you never stopped running, staying crouched beneath the groups of women who didn’t even bother to turn back and watch the show.
It wasn’t too graceful either. Your thighs were on fire due to, you know, you having never done this before. After a solid two minutes, you felt your calves spasm and you almost gave up there, but the forest’s edge was so close… so close.
When the floor finally transitioned from grass to grass mixed with soil and animal feces, you almost jumped for joy, sprinting so hard that your legs almost gave out when you passed a hefty group of trees that you felt wide enough to hide you.
Your ears perked at a series of gasps that rang in the clearing behind you and it was then that you knew your escape was far from over.
Maybe there actually was a law against escaping the Searching for Luna Queens ceremony--you’d googled it thoroughly just to make sure you weren’t officially a criminal on the run until after you located your father. But hey, maybe Google had lied to you.
Then you were screwed.
Your mother and stepfather, you could deal with.
The entirety of the Alpha King’s pack… hmm, not so much.
So you kept running, wincing every once in a while that you stepped over a cracked twig. Sweat stuck your hair to your skin and slickened your legs entirely, the midday heat combined with a run through the humid forest finally catching up to you.
A small rest wouldn’t hurt. Maybe twenty minutes had passed, thirty if you were really lucky. You settled for a small stump in somewhat of a clearing. Here, at least, the branches of the trees were only swinging so low that they just brushed the top of your head, as opposed to when they thwapped you in the face while you ran.
Zipping open your backpack, you grabbed the first water bottle you saw, not even bothering to search for the cap after you tore it off and tossed it away before gulping down three-quarters of the bottle.
Your heart finally seemed to slow as you took in gasps of air, batting away and choking on the occasional gnat. Your hair felt greasy and sweaty while the rest of your body was just entirely moist--you’d never been so disgusting before.
But you’d also never run away from a group of thirteen grown men before so you chalked it up to it being amateur hour.
From your seat on the stump, you honed in on your surroundings, trying to figure out which direction to go from there.
Birds chirped to your left (possibly South), but you heard the small babblings of a creek to your right (also possibly South). There was nothing coming from in front of you but flies buzzing and the occasional deer scraping its antlers against a tree, and meanwhile behind you there was a-
SHIT!
You jumped out of your seat on the stump but it was already too late. Just as you lunged ten feet out a weight tackled you from behind and forced you onto the ground, their heavier weight and superior strength keeping you immobile.
Shoulda known it was illegal.
But only then after your heart stopped trying to rip itself away from your body did you feel it. Sparks. Little zaps of pure pleasure tracing up and down your spine and forcing an involuntary shiver out of you.
And the smell, oh God the smell. Like your favorite fruits sprinkled with just a touch of vanilla that had you biting back a moan.
Mate.
Parts of you were happy and others were sad. Happy you found your mate, but sad he had almost just tackled you and forced your face into a pile of bear dung.
This was not a great first meeting.
“Are you gonna get off me anytime soon?” you wheezed out, spitting out spare bits of dirt that had flown into your mouth mid-tackle.
Thank God you packed a toothbrush.
“Only if you promise not to run.” Jesus fuck this man needed to chill with his voice. It washed over you and warmed up the pit of your stomach like no other, every husk and lilt of his words making you almost quiver in delight.
“Yep,” you coughed out, voice surprisingly steady for someone being suffocated mentally and physically, “pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson. You’re good.”
After a slow, somewhat trembling exhale, the man finally got off you and rose to his feet, instead choosing to drop into a squat beside your head with both arms relaxing on his knees.
Very strong, muscular looking arms on very strong, muscular looking knees. And things. And chest. And everything.
Dear God, maybe you actually hit the jackpot for once.
A large hand reached towards your face, not particularly gentle as he brushed the hair from your face, though you could tell he was trying by his hesitancy. His hand paused right as it reached your hair and after a deep breath, he pushed it back up behind your ear and you could see the rest of him at last.
Oh holy shit.
“Ba-akugou Katsuki.”
“YN.”
The Alpha King was your mate.
hiii can i get a scenario of class 1a having to do some body guard duty for some rich families wedding, and bakugous crush not being able to go due to family reasons. when they arrived they found out it was actually the readers family, how would bakugou and the rest react thanks hehe
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Bakugou is pissed after he’s assigned to be a bodyguard along with the rest of the class for one of the richest families in Japan. He didn’t even want to go since you, his crush, weren’t gonna be there! But wait… surely that’s not you on the dance floor with another guy?
A/N: Oof, sorry this one took so long! I’m actually feeling good about it, but only time will tell. Anyways, thank you so much for this awesome request and I hope you like it! (Side note: I’m just gonna leave this here in case anyone wants to listen to it while reading👀)
Word count: 2706
This was ridiculous.
The rented black and white tuxedo was itchy in unsavory places, the extravagant ballroom smelled highly of old lady perfume, and there were so many rich bastards.
Bakugou wasn’t even sure why he came. Though his class had been requested to guard the wedding and its reception, there was really no point.
You weren’t there. When Aizawa had broken the news that Class 1A was requested to guard one of the richest families in Japan, you were the only person with a legitimate excuse to schmooze your way out of the job.
“I can’t go, family’s got stuff tonight.”
Bakugou gritted his teeth at the thought. The room was dimly lit, the only source coming from the chandeliers hanging above as a band played slow songs at the front of the room. Couples wrapped each other up in their arms and rocked leisurely to the deep crooning of the main singer, and it was no surprise that the newlyweds were in the center of it all.
Envy swelled up in his throat. Everyone had someone tonight. Even the green midget had the annoying pink girl, both scouting the room while giggling and chatting.
Why did I even fucking come?
“-Bakugou… Bakugou!” Kirishima waved his hand in front of the blond’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction. Finally, the latter shook himself into reality, glancing away from the murmuring crowd.
“What?”
“Are you okay? You’ve been zoned out for like twenty minutes…”
Bakugou rolls his eyes and pushes past the redhead, once more in search of that abandoned balcony he had spotted earlier. “I just don’t know why we even had to be here. No villain’s gonna attack a crowd of superpowered rich fucks.”
He allows his gaze to wander the room as he strides, searching for something to do to fend off the oncoming boredom.
“Oh come on, Bakugou, wouldn’t that be the perfect time to test your skills? Nobody said you had to wait for the rich people to fight the villains.”
“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, crimson orbs still scouring the party.
“Plus, it’s their wedding day. They don’t want to tear their nice dresses and suits. Think smart here, my friend.”
“Whatever.”
“GUYS GUYS!” A squeaky voice Bakugou can only connect to that of the perverted blond who always trails behind him around school reaches the boys’ ears. Two hands grab one of each’s shoulders as Kaminari slips between the pair, obviously eager to share some gossip. “Guess who I just saw all dolled up right here?”
The electric boy doesn’t even have enough time for a grand reveal; Bakugou’s ears have already perked for other dramatic whispers.
“Hold on, guys, is that YN?”
“No way, she said she was gonna be busy toni- holy shit it is!”
At this point, the tense blond isn’t even trying to hide his eavesdropping. Shrugging the hand off his shoulder, Bakugou sticks close to the wall as he stomps over to the chattering pair, who just so happen to be Mina and Toru. Both stick out like sore thumbs in glittering, hot pink dresses among collections of no-doubt expensive pastel chiffon.
“Where?” he barks, leaving the girls to squeal at the sudden intrusion. Mina is the first to recover, and as she turns to him a smug glint flashes through her eyes. With a nod of her head, she gestures to the crowd.
“Down there in the red dress.” His gaze travels in said direction. “She’s dancing with a boy.”
The word leaves Bakugou’s mind in scrambles. You were here, but you were also with another guy. His chest tightens at the fact and when he finally catches sight of you, a breath is caught in his throat.
Maroon silk hugs tightly to your every curve, outlining your admirable figure. A sweetheart neckline adorns your chest, lined with black gems that glitter every time they catch the light above. There’s a mischievous slit trailing up your leg that stops just above mid-thigh, revealing smooth skin that seems to go on forever thanks to the black stilettos on your feet. Every edge and line is stitched the same color among the tight dress, showing more and more contrasting patterns of black and red as you sway in the boy’s arms.
Bakugou’s sneer transforms into an all out snarl at the minimal proximity between the two of you, completely ignorant of the uncomfortable smile on your face. Your garnet-colored lips pull back forcibly, letting out a nervous lap with every word the other man whispers to you. Face framed perfectly by your curled locks, the blond can’t ignore just how hot you look right now.
He also can’t ignore how much he needs that guy to stop touching you. Before he can even register it, his dark shoes are slapping against the marble floor, making quick work of the distance between himself and you two.
In seconds, he’s silently fuming next to you both, awkwardly staring the boy down who’s shivering in his my-maid-ironed-these slacks.
“Move it, extra,” Bakugou hisses, vermillion eyes burning into his enemy’s skull. That’s all it really takes, as the boy rips away from you and disappears into the crowd of swaying couples around, the only evidence of his existence being the slow-to-fade tension in your shoulders.
“Katsuki!” you reluctantly purse your lips, disapproving but also secretly thankful. No words can fall from your lips after that, all of them stolen away at the sudden feeling of his bruising grip on your hips. Instinctively, your hands reach up to wrap around his neck, assuming the appropriate dance position considering your location in the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” He really hadn’t wanted to come, at least not after he heard you weren’t going to make an appearance. Some part of him feels betrayed that he had almost missed seeing you like this.
The room feels like it’s closing in on you. Of course you had your reasons for not wanting to admit that you were born into this crowd, but being surrounded by them is getting to you. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”
Bakugou bites back the refusal on his tongue when he sees your anxious gaze, observing as it constantly flits back and forth between himself and those around you. “Okay,” he nods, squinting in the darkened room to search for… there! The balcony from earlier. He had seen it when he first entered the empty room along with the rest of Class 1A, waiting for instructions from the wedding’s director while hooking each other up with walkie talkies and earpieces.
“Either that’s where the villains are gonna come in or that’s where I’m gonna jump from halfway through this party.”
“Come on.” His rough hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you along as he shoulders past offended couples who scoff at his impropriety.
The outside is so much more peaceful than its opposite, with the only sounds being crickets chirping in the dark forest below and melodic tunes still echoing through the ballroom’s door cracks.
Moon shines on the balcony like a spotlight, choosing both of you as it’s favored guests. It’s warm outside, even with the occasional gusts of wind that stick your hair to your lips, and part of you is in awe that Bakugou even found this place as beautiful as most would. Maybe you underestimated him.
“So why did you lie about tonight?” The blond’s voice drags you away from the balcony’s banister, urging you to turn around and lean back against it. Your gaze locks on the ground as you rub your arms shyly.
“It wasn’t really a lie, per se.” Bakugou snorts.
“Sure, and I’m not the best student in the school.”
“You really aren’t…”
“WHAT WAS THAT?!” His riled shout makes you snicker, hiding a smile behind your hand. Bakugou can’t help but admire you, even when you piss him off. Though, he can’t ignore the goosebumps covering your bare arms either. The fact that the straps of your dress were about halfway down your upper arms wasn’t really helping your situation. Grinding his teeth at the stupidity of your outfit, he shrugs of his jacket and approaches you, keeping his gaze focused on the task at hand as he encompasses your shoulders with the thicker fabric.
“Oh, uh thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Awkward silence ensues, leaving the faint music of the inside to taint the normally innocent atmosphere. Bakugou doesn’t want to crack on the pressure, but part of him still wants to feel you.
“So, erm,” he rubs the back of his neck, “do you want to dance?”
The question makes you glance up in surprise. Was this really Bakugou? Giving you his jacket, getting all possessive and now, now asking to dance? No way. Maybe he hit his head or something. Or maybe…
Maybe he liked you back.
“Sure.”
You both shuffle towards each other, barely keeping yourselves from flushing to the fullest when you finally are close enough to touch each other again. Then the blond finally makes the first move again, quivering hands sneaking around your waist painfully slow.
You’re no hypocrite, being just as hesitant as he was in the act of sneaking your hands up and around his neck once more. There was something about asking to initiate the dance that made this so much more awkward than earlier, back inside when Bakugou just forced you both into it.
Now, it was so incredibly tedious, forcing yourselves to relax and sway to the music slowly fading out from the inside. Then at one point you threw caution to the wind and dropped your head, laying your cheek on his shoulder as you faced the wilderness beyond.
“So…” Bakugou finally speaks up again. His grip tightens on your hips in frustration. Obviously he heard the shakiness of his voice just as well as you had. He calms down with a clear of his throat, allowing his gaze to also fade off into the black surrounding the host building of your family’s wedding. “Why didn't you tell us?”
Your form tenses against his own, leaving him in a dreaded panic that you would somehow just disappear before his eyes. Then you answer.
“I didn’t want you to see me in a bad light…”
Bakugou shakes his head, still rocking you both back and forth in a steady pattern to the music. “YN, you shouldn’t worry about what those extras think-”
“Not them,” you interrupt. “You.”
“...Oh.” He’s silent for a minute, and distantly you wonder if he can feel the racing thumps that are echoing against your rib cage right now. At last he pipes up with another question. “Why?”
“I just,” you peel your head away to look him in the eyes, just barely avoiding biting your rouged lips, “I didn’t want you to think I was this spoiled brat who paid her way into UA. I wanted… I don’t know… I guess I wanted you to respect me.”
The intensity is enough to make you glance away as Bakugou stares at you in wonder.
“YN, I respect you in a hell of a lot of ways.”
From any other, the words would have left you scoffing. From Bakugou, though, they leave you redder than a cherry as you resist ducking your face into his button-up dress shirt.
“...Oh.” That seemed to be the response of the day.
The balcony returns to silence, dulled music still flowing from the party behind the doors. Bakugou’s hands, strong and firm, are still attached to your waist, encouraging the constant swaying while you keep your hands locked behind his neck. The urge to dip your fingers into his fluffy locks is taking a surprising amount of self-restraint at this moment.
The air of the moment is serene, strangely tranquil considering one of its residents. You feel content and relaxed for the first time in a long time, all thanks to right now. There’s no eagerness to hide yourself, nor pressure to spill any more secrets. And that’s precisely why you feel at peace with the idea of spilling your feelings now, rather than letting them out during a moment of peer pressure from others.
Right now, it’s just him and you, locked in an embrace and swaying underneath the moon and the stars to a faint melody of love and happiness. And it’s perfect.
“Katsuki…” Here we go.
“Yeah?” His voice is soothing, strangely so compared to its usual gruffness.
“I like you. Like like-like you. A lot.”
Well fuck. That was so much more awkward than you expected it to be. In just two seconds, your mind had gone from “let’s do this” to “can I somehow burrow in his shirt pocket and die” thanks to that confession.
For some odd reason, Bakugou seems to agree with your train of thoughts. One of his hands leaves your waist to slip into the hair on the back of your head. Bunching up a collection of curls in his fist, he shoves your face right into his shoulder, dismissing the surprised squeal you give.
“What a lame way to say that.” Ouch.
The response makes you struggle against him, growing ashamed and embarrassed as you push against his toned stomach to escape, but it’s ineffective. His grip has turned to iron, solid and unforgiving as you become more and more frantic. A plea to let you go dies on your lips when he finally opens his mouth.
“Stop squirming and let me talk.”
You do, allowing him to take a deep breath before speaking again.
“I…” he turns his head and gulps. You can’t see thanks to your face being squished against his chest, but you can tell by the quick pounding near your forehead that he’s just as nervous as you. “I like you too, dumbass.”
Jaw dropping, your mouth goes dry at the confession. Then your hands fall like dead weight to your sides.
“Oh.”
“That’s it, that’s all I get?!”
“Sorry, sorry, I just umm… I wasn’t expecting that.” You trail your hands back up over his shoulders once more, finally slipping them into the disarrayed strands. “But I’m glad.”
At your reply, he leans back to glance at your face. A wave of relief seems to flask through his eyes when he confirms that, yes, you do mean it.
“Me too,” he admits, sneaking his arms back around your waist and settling his wandering hands on the small of your back.
The tension in the air has drawn back to a zero, and you’re still smiling giddily at the confession. He liked you back, no matter where you came from.
He begins to rock you back and forth once more, leading you to the slow song of the band inside as his fingers knead into your skin, flexing and unflexing with every knot your own untangle in his scalp.
Owls hoot in the trees beyond the balcony as the stars glitter down on both of you, washing you in dim rays.
It’s warm out. It’s nice out. And all you can do is hum along when Bakugou drops his head on your shoulder, huffing a relieved sigh.
“God I’m glad I came tonight.”
hii is the taglist for reborn open? if yes can i please be added to it? thank youuu 🥰
Yep, you’ll definitely be tagged in the next chapter!💜
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Claw machines are unfair, and your boyfriend is seriously impatient. You see where this is going, right?
A/N: Just another imagine I got to write thanks to this prompt by @otpdisaster. Seriously, if you ever get writer’s block, go check them out, they’re a godsend. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: 914
Buzz buzz.
The call scared you out of your homework induced trance. After a certain point, you knew you had to give up on zoning out while glaring at the laptop screen. With a sigh, you snatched up your phone and answered.
“Hello?”
“YN!” There’s a muffled screeching in the background of the call that sounds suspiciously like your name.
“Tanaka? What’s going on?”
“You need to come-” his voice breaks away in a chuckle. “You need to come to the mall right now!”
“Umm, why?”
“Just come!” The noises in the background become louder and more frantic. “And bring butter!”
“Why do I-” the call ends before you can ask what the hell is going on, and why a dairy product seems to be the solution to whatever mess your boyfriend’s best friend has gotten into.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumble under your breath, still staring at your phone with wide eyes. Well, it’s better than doing homework on a Saturday. With a shrug, you grab your jacket and your keys, getting ready to drive to the disaster zone.
~~~
It’s not much, but it's the best you could find on such short notice, and with such little spare change in your pocket. Walking into the mall with a tub of ‘I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter’ held in your grasp, you anxiously search for the bald volleyball player.
“Ooh, there he is!” Your eyes catch on his signature buzz cut and you make a beeline for him. “Tanaka! Hey!”
The arcade he stands in is dim with neon green lights flashing from the ceiling like a disco. Children shout excitedly and button-mash on the machines like no tomorrow while you shoulder through a crowd of people to grab his arm.
“Hey!” You’re barely audible over the sounds of tickets printing and Pac-Man chomping, so you raise your voice to a shout. “Why did you need this?” You hold up the tub in front of his face and he can only guffaw at the sight of you.
“Oh hey YN! I’m so glad you could make it!” He snickers once more before stepping away from the claw machine he had been standing in front of. “Noya, look who’s here!”
“Fuck you, man!” Your boyfriend, who had been hidden by the taller stature of Tanaka, is seated on the floor, one arm lodged up the prize door of the machine while the other flips off his friend.
The bald man only laughs harder, pressing an arm against his stomach while howls. You, on the other hand, can only gape at the sight.
“Yuu, what are you doing?!” He rubs the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly.
“I wanted to get you the little stuffed cat,” he points at the toy with the hand wedged in the machine, fingers just barely visible inside the glass. “But this stupid machine,” he smacks the side of it with a sneer, “totally cheated me!”
The sentiment made your heart flutter, but the sight made you giggle and avoid eye contact.
“Hey!”
“I’m sorry! It’s just,” you gesture at his predicament, “you know… fucking hilarious!” You can’t hold it in any longer as you join Tanaka in busting a gut while Nishinoya miserably slumps onto the arcade floor.
“You guys suck.” You both die laughing at his grumble, holding onto each other for support just in case someone topples over.
It doesn’t take long before you get spotted.
“Excuse me!” It’s a young employee of the arcade, and he looks just about done with all of you from the get-go. “Kid, I’m gonna have to ask you to remove your hand from the machine.”
“I’m older than you!” Nishinoya kicks his legs against the ground indignantly and you have to bite your lip to contain yourself. “Plus,” he purses his lips, “I’m stuck.”
The employee sighs and smacks his palm against his forehead. “I’ll go get the butter.”
“Oh, no need,” you hold up your grocery store purchase like a prized possession, “I already got some.” The younger man quirks his brow at you before accepting the item and whipping out a handy butter knife from his back pocket. You and Tanaka both gawk and glance at each other at the sight of his preparedness.
“Every Goddamn day,” he mutters before getting to work.
While Nishinoya’s situation is dealt with, you leave the scene with a promise that you’ll be back to Tanaka. About thirty minutes later, your boyfriend is free as a bird and you pop up in front of him with a gift.
“Here,” you hand him a stuffed cat with a victorious smirk. Amazement overcomes his features and his jaw drops at the gift. He wiggles excitedly and captures you in a hug, but his appreciation of your present doesn’t last long.
“Wait,” he pulls away and the overjoyed grin falls from his face. “How did you get this?!” His eyes narrow with suspicion while he observes the toy from all angles like it was a fake.
“I won it,” you announce proudly.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”
If only he knew you were now out forty bucks.
18+, minors dnrI write sometimes ig maybe, we’ll see🫠Masterlist . . . . . . Side BlogRequests? What requests?
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