I saw your cute event and I couldn't help myself ! How about Bakugou with a burnt orange scarf :)) hope that works !!
(She/her and could you go from platonic to romantic?)
a/n — hiii! eek thank you, im glad u sent in somethin' :D
gotta love bkg, haven't written for him in ages but he's a beloved skrunkly so i hope i can do him justice for you!
blanca's cafe event!
this event is now CLOSED! feel free to leave a normal old ask, though!
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Bakugou Katsuki x reader
Tags— fluff, getting together, friends to lovers, crocheting bcuz i thought it fit+ i recently started and it's draining my life force, bkg being bkg/pos, written with she/her or F!reader in mind but I don't think i ever use a pronoun other than "you" for reader
CW/TW— scars, mentions of past character death, child soldiers (mha core i guess?)
please keep yourself safe.
note — this took forever to finish good gosh i apologize! hopefully 3.5k words is enough to make up for the delay lol! tysm for ur ask abby<3
divider cr: neapolitan hearts— @uzmacchiato
𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
"Golden - Harry Styles"
00:35 ━●──────── 03:28
ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ
"and I know that you're scared cause I'm so open"
Bakugou huffs, dropping his backpack onto his desk chair.
If he was honest, today hadn’t been too draining—just the same bickering with the idiots he called his friends and trying not to kill Izuku for his incessant muttering during Art History. (Which was a joke, honestly. Why did they have to take art history again? The last time they had Art History was right before the most traumatic year(s) of their lives, and of all the things they could be learning, it doesn’t seem the most important. Not to him, anyway.)
His slippers come off quickly, preferring the plush black ones he brought from home at the beginning of this year after he couldn’t bear only to use the school-issued ones for another year. Sitting on his bed makes his bones creak in a way he knows they shouldn’t- not this young, anyway. Fighting a war and living will do that to you, he guessed. He’d have to do his exercises before bed again, and the thought is so frustrating he has to fight back the tears that suddenly burn at his waterline.
Usually, he wouldn’t be such a baby about things like this. It’s been a good few months since having to take his medications or do his exercises morning and night has really upset him.
But something about today, or maybe the last week, or if he’s honest, the last month- has been grating on his nerves like nothing else. It feels like he’s stuck in a loop of doing the same shit as before, but now he’s completely different. He doesn’t feel like a hero student anymore. He’s seen his own blood and felt his heart stop. He’s seen people crumble to the floor and not get up, eyes squinted from the rubble in the air. He’s watched his friends and mentors throw up and scream and cry and gasp so hard for air it looks like they’d die.
But he still has a paper due on Wednesday. He’s got to sit still in class and pay attention as if his brain weren’t firing stray warning signs for everything from Kaminari snoring to a bird chirping from outside the window.
It’s…hard, which is still too harrowing to admit. It felt like telling anyone would be proving them right—that he couldn’t handle it and maybe should have waited longer before coming back—or, hell, not come back at all. Bakugou would finish this year and be a pro-hero if it killed him, and it almost did.
He’s curled up in his soft comforter when a knock sounds against his door, and he has to brace himself for the inevitable tightness in his body when he gets up. The effort makes him bite back a pained groan.
Huffing, he stands and shuffles his way over to the door, hoping his face doesn’t give away the turmoil in his head. He’s learned from other people that his poker face wasn’t always full proof. Unfortunately, he was just as expressive as both of his parents.
“Yeah?” He grumbles, letting the door swing open just a bit and leaning into the doorway.
You stand in the hall, warm lights illuminating you from behind and emphasizing how hunched over you seem to be. You hadn’t made eye contact.
“Hey, Katsuki.” You say, voice pitched sheepishly. Bakugou watches you bite your cheek.
“Can I come in?” you ask meekly, and he doesn’t think too hard about letting you in. After the war, the others had become clingier, you being no exception. Doors were often left open, people filtering in and out of dorms that did not belong to them. His room had seen it’s fair share of people, some more polite than others but all just as welcome.
He opens the door wider and gestures you in with his hand half-heartedly. “What do ya’ need now, loser?” He asks, even though you both know no one needs a reason to hang around anymore. Still, he can’t help the low almost exhausted tone that seeps out of him.
“What, I can’t hang out with a friend now?” You grumble playfully, entering his room. You take a seat on his bed, and he finally notices the thing you’ve got clenched in your hands. Almost nervous, which strikes him as odd. Though he’d never say it, he’d consider you one of his closest friends, and he knew enough to say he’s one of yours as well.
“Not with that weird look you’ve got going on.” He replies. Bakugou chooses to settle on his desk chair, facing you with a quirked brow and an expectant look. You fidget under his gaze, before giving finally looking at him. Your face twitches just slightly, something he knows you’re not aware you do often.
”Um…are you okay, Katsuki?” You ask gently, eyes roving over his form and clearly looking for some sort of physical source of distress. He rolls his eyes.
”Could be better, without a gnat on my bed staring at me.” He says, and you roll your eyes in return.
”I’m serious, man. This semester’s been kicking everyone’s ass. It’s surreal, but…” You pause, dropping your gaze. There’s a silence between you that neither of you are particularly found of.
”I can tell you’ve been off. We’re worried about you. Is it- is it the scars again?” You ask, voice low and breathy in a way that makes him think you hoped he wouldn’t hear you.
He takes his time answering, fighting the impulse to get angry. To snap at you, insisting he is fine and the rest of you losers can’t handle some damn exams but he’s above that crap.
Except he is older and his body aches in a way a 17 year old boy shouldn’t and he is overwhelmed. These days, getting angry was a chore. He couldn’t bring himself to curl up in the familiar anger that came so easily, not when the anxiety that came with it was so much more exhausting. Turns out, dying changed you. Specifically, changed what exactly you were willing to put your effort into.
And maybe some part of him didn’t want to spend however long he has left in this line of work angry at his friends. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.
”Part of it, maybe.” He finally answers, shrugging. The action pulls at his sore shoulders, one of them particularly smarting and itching. He had forgotten to reapply his ointment while stressing over that damn essay.
“I’m…fine. Same way everyone’s fine. We’re almost done, anyway.” He huffs. You nod, still fidgeting with something he couldn’t truly decipher in your hands.
”Only a month or so left, huh? Honestly I still think they should have given us our licenses after fighting in a war, even if we aren’t allowed to be employed until we’ve graduated.” You grumble, giving him the same dumb smile you always gave him when you were hoping to get a laugh out of him. Unfortunately for you, he still had a bit too much pride to grace every lukewarm shot with a laugh.
”Tell me about it.” He deadpans. You grin wider, no longer put-off by his blunt mentioning of his demise. Some of your peers took it harder than others, no one being worse than Izuku. Lucky for him, you found it funny in some dark way (and acknowledged it was his own coping mechanism).
”Preaching to the choir, huh?” You laugh to yourself. You look back down at the mass in your hands and the expression on your face falters- it makes him nervous, in a way. Why were you being so weird?
“Listen…I- well, I already said I noticed that you were off, so…I got you something.” You stammered, and before he could admonish you for being strange, there’s a soft weight dropping into his lap.
Peering down, he realizes what you’ve been palming. A scarf, knitted and soft. It’s a burnt orange color—similar to the ear muffs his mom had gotten him for this past winter when he finally admitted the cold biting his ears was no longer something he could tough out when paired with the stubborn aching of all of his scars.
“Well, I said got. I made it, you know how I like to make stuff in my free time, so…yeah. I figured it could help, since the classrooms can be really cold sometimes and I felt like if I ached, you were also probably affected by it.” You ramble, and he chooses to tune you out as he picks it up and runs his hands across the slight ribbing he could feel. The idea of you spending time, making this, because you had an inkling that he might appreciate it made him feel…odd.
It reminded him of his dad making his Halloween costume every year, of his mom measuring him for a new winter coat every season and blowing raspberries into his stomach, glowing about how big he was getting! Or the time Sato made him his favorite meal on the morning of his birthday instead of the cake he made everyone else.
You couldn’t have anticipated it, he knew, but there was still an odd warmth spreading through him. Maybe the knowledge that you truly made him something unprompted was what made it even more consuming. He breathes deeply, for the first time in what feels like minutes. Bakugou glances up, and realizes your staring at him, face pinched with worry. He clicks his tongue, now the one dropping his gaze to fiddle with the soft fabric in his hands.
”…Thanks. Some of those rooms are fuckin’ killer. Don’t even know why they’ve got the temp so high.” He scoffs. Still, he wraps the fabric around his hands and allows it to settle across the callouses on his palms, on the aching scars still littering one of his hands.
The smile you give him this time is different— excited and bright, and he knows you enough to know when you’re smug.
Like it hadn’t taken you twenty minutes to work up the courage to give him the gift you had brought. Your gaze turns pensive for a moment, and you nudge his leg with your foot.
”Hey, would you help me with something?” You ask. He narrows his eyes, wary, but nods to let you continue. Your face melts into something sheepish.
”Will you go over English with me? Mic isn’t really cutting it with tutoring anymore, and I’m like, treading dangerous territory with my grade.” You grimace, dragging a hand down your face. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, but he recognizes that tutoring you would put him in the mental space to finally get that stupid essay done.
”You’d all be dead without me. Whatever, bring your shit. And your flashcards, you stained mine last time with whatever you were eating and you can’t use ‘em anymore!” He ends up hollering after you, when you spring off of his bed the minute an affirmative was given.
In the quiet of his room, he presses the scarf to his face, just to feel it hold the heat of his breaths for a moment. When you return, the scarf has long been hidden, and you two cram onto his bed to review material you knew he’d already gone over twice.
Until two becomes three, then four— and then his room is a mix of soft conversations and silent shared space, your classmates having trickled in with their own homework and panicked studying.
The next time you see the scarf, miraculously, is the night you’ve managed to split off from your overbearing, endearing friends you wouldn’t trade for the world.
After graduating in the spring, you had all split to work for different agencies. Your own sidekick position was offered along with Kirishima’s at Fat Gum’s agency, and you were glad to say that despite what had transpired at 15, you loved being a hero.
Surrounded by the work you loved so dearly, and fortunately being able to spend your time with someone as positive and kind as Eijirou, it was usually enough to dull the ache of having so many of your friends out of arms reach for the first time in years.
Which is why the first planned get-together is only nine months after you’ve all settled at your new positions, wherever they may have been. It had been pushed by three months or so, until you were all able to show.
It was like being able to breathe again, next to Mina as she told some silly story about a street punk she had a dance off with before she managed to subdue him, or asking Koda how his time in search and rescue had been going.
You weren’t expecting a familiar hand to loop around your elbow, hold firm but mindful of it’s own power. You glance away from where Aoyama had been telling his own story about the mission he and Hagakure had taken on in Greece to find expectant red eyes shooting you a look. You falter, taking a one-off look at the group before letting him lead you away.
“What’s up, Katsuki?” You ask, surprised when his hold shifts from your elbow to your wrist. Your stomach twists— something you hadn’t felt since the very same boy had allowed you one (1) hug at graduation.
”Too loud. Needed to get away from the freaks for a bit.” He mutters, voice almost lost to the fur lining of the jacket he had on. You nod, not unused to his need to break away from your admittedly overzealous classmates.
”And I’m not a freak?” You tease, still not sure why he had chosen to drag you away with him. Though, instead of the expected prickly response, he eyes you for a moment. His shoulder bumps into yours as you both wander down the paved path he had led you to.
”You are.” He says finally, looking away. You smile lightly, confused by the lame response. It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re gathering the courage to say something when a sudden chill sweeps through the air. Even though you’re bundled in a warm sweater, it nips at your face and neck. You shiver before you can help it, the action so strong your teeth chatter for a moment. It passes and you laugh, your hands coming up to hug yourself.
”Got cold fast this year, huh?” You huff. He stops you with a hand on your arm again, and you can’t help but frown at how quiet he’s being.
You move to say something, and you’re interrupted again as he pulls something out of his inner pocket and wraps it around you.
The movement is gentle and yet practical. He’s intentional with how he folds the scarf around your neck, and he makes sure to tuck your hair properly around your face to let it insulate you as much as possible. The touch is intimate in a way you weren’t expecting, and like clockwork your stomach is doing flips again.
”You…what kind of idiot goes outside in December with no scarf on.” He grumbles. You splutter, embarrassment and something else burning at your ears.
”We weren’t supposed to be outside! Everyone else is comfortable and warm in our agreed meetup spot, Katsuki. You’re not wearing one either,” You yelp, pointing at his red nose and cheeks. He scowls.
”Take one guess as to why.” He scoffs. You punch him in the shoulder, laughing.
”It’s not my fault you put my scarf on me! It’s supposed to be for you.” Your tone softens, and you watch the tense line of his shoulders ease as he rolls his eyes, mouth twitching in amusement.
”’S a gift, ain’t it? I can choose who wears it, since its mine.” He replies. Your own smile melts, and the look he gives you is funny. Almost like he’s angry, but his face is red from the cold and his mouth is doing and odd thing. You giggle without truly thinking about it.
”Sure, that’s fair.” You hum, amused at the situation as a whole. Bakugou shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly preferring to stare out into the bustling park center where a festival had been set up and lent itself to children running about chasing each other.
”How’s work been?” You ask gently, studying the side of his face. He finally turns to you again, exhaling.
”Frustrating. Being a sidekick isn’t my thing. But we worked too hard to get here, so I’ll suck it up till I can work my way up to being a hero. Then, I’ll be number one before you can blink.” He says, and his confidence that had grated on you all those years ago is refreshing to hear. You nod, shifting your body to lean against the tree you two had stopped under.
”If anyone can do it, it’s you Katsuki.” You respond, and it’s almost unprompted the way he suddenly faces you, opening his mouth and closing it like he couldn’t find the words or the courage to say something. You give him an odd look.
”You alright?” You ask lightly, amused and concerned at the same time. He scowls, face a deep red. His hand lifts to drag the edge of the scarf over your mouth, brushing the tip of your nose like a toddler would have a scarf set around their face.
”Shut it, will you? Just let me- figure this out.” He grits out. You laugh, the sound muffled, Still, the proximity had your stomach feeling fluttery and you think that’s what compels you to give him the time he needed.
”I missed you.” He blurts, almost like it pained him to admit. You blink, the words hitting you harder than you thought they should. He continues before you could interrupt him.
“We’re busy, and we’ve got a shit ton of stuff to do, but it got cold and I couldn’t stop thinking about your dumb scarf,” he tugs at the edge of it “and I…missed you. I wanted to know if you’d like to meet up for coffee or something. Just- just us.” He struggles, and for the first time you think the color on his face might not just be from the new December chill. Your stomach flips in a way that almost makes you nauseous.
”You’re…like- like a date?” You ask, voice soft and low. He shrugs, and then nods once firmly like he had to work up the courage for that, too.
“Yeah. If you want.” He’s still playing it off, like you couldn’t see the line of his mouth screwing up into that awkward look you were realizing was him being nervous. This time, your stomach is too wild and fluttery to even think about being smug.
”Sure, I’d like that alot, Katsuki.” You say, soft but sure of yourself— sure of what you wanted. He nods, but his demeanor softens and he glances at you only for a moment. His eyes trail back over to the festival a few feet away, and you can sense the question before he even said it.
”Do you wanna check that out?” He asks lowly. You grin.
”Hell no. It’s cold, and if we’re out here any longer you’ll get sick and Mina will start a rumor that we’ve been dating before we even get a first date in, Katsuki.” You chirp. He pauses, but the wobbly smirk that dawns on his face lets you know that you were right.
”Fair enough. You should probably go ahead, though.” He says, tone forcibly casual. “Denki said he wanted to hide your bag until you replied individually to the things he’s sent you on tiktok, and considering he’s already done that to Jirou, I think you’re too late to stop it.” He admits, and you stare at him incredulously for a beat before hurrying down the path.
”You knew all that and didn’t tell me?!” You yelp, and behind you Katsuki snickers something unintelligible. His feet start down the path behind you— and despite knowing you’d have to sit and watch all the dumb videos Kaminari had spam sent you, when you finally made it back there was a dumb grin on your face that perfectly matched the self-satisfied smirk that Katsuki wore.
Aizawa with a pro hero & highschool sweetheart reader finally talking again after months (or even years) of no contact 😋
a/n —hey hey anon!! thx for sending this in! I've never written for shouta b4 despite having read my fair share of media involving him lol. i hope i can do him justice for you!!! this is such an interesting prompt hehe p.s this was literally the funnest thing to write ever im actually incredibly invested. i might as well have fleshed out a whole au for this, not that it rlly reflects it i think haha!
blanca’s cafe event!
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡
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Aizawa Shouta x GN!reader
Tags— semi-angst, awkwardness, mentions of injuries/war, bittersweet
CW/TW— Manga Spoilers?
note — quirk — Revitalize: the ability to heal wounds and injuries by simply touching the affected area. They can accelerate the body's natural healing process. Their healing abilities also extend to others. They must gain the energy to do so by taking it from enemies or using their own(think Moyra from overwatch, sorta. w/ a mix of bastille's group healing ability thing teehee).
𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
"Have We Met Before? by Tom Rosenthal, Fenne Lily"
02:20 ━━━━━━━●─ 02:39
ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ
“ Will you know it when you see it? Have we met before?”
You hadn’t been in Japan for years, having been sent to America by the Hero Commission as soon as you had graduated from Yuuei. Adjusting to the culture (both civilian and hero) was a struggle, but you did well with your healing-centered quirk.
Once the war had taken place, the commission had called back all of the heroes they sent to foreign countries they could, and you just so happened to be one of them. All for One was a looming threat, and with the amount of casualties suffered, they sent you home to help the war effort.
You stand inside Yuuei’s walls, stomach rolling at the bleak sight. Cities had been razed while you were gone, and Yuuei had been converted into a base for civilians and heroes alike. People milled around almost aimlessly, no doubt restless, as they were afraid to leave school grounds. You make your way through the crowd, eyes focused on the building you had been directed to.
Yuuei hadn’t had dorms since you last checked, but amongst all the changes you’ve seen in your hometown, you didn’t have the energy to even question it. You hurry up the steps and knock idly on the door, rocking on your heels while you wait for it to open.
The door creaks open, and an eye with a black sclera blinks at you before it opens wider, revealing a yellow-eyed, pink girl. She grins tightly at you, obviously confused by your presence.
“Hello, can I help you?” She said, and you take note of her for just a second. Young, most definitely not any older than 17- and tired. Her demeanor screamed of exhaustion. You smile gently at her.
“Hi, Nezu directed me this way. I’m looking for your teacher. This is 2-A, right?” You say, taking a step back just in case you had gotten it wrong (which you hoped wasn’t the case, seeing as the dorms were marked with the class names). The girl nodded and opened the door further, shifting to allow you room to enter.
“Yeah! You’re in the right place.” She says, and you enter the building quickly. You take your shoes off and place them into one of the cubbies near the door, and you note the number of shoes already in the cubbies. It reminds you of school, and you can’t help but smile at the sight.
The girl hands you a pair of guest slippers, and as you put them on, she grins a little softer.
” I’m Mina, by the way.” She says. You nod, both of you making your way out of the genkan.
” You have a very pretty name, Mina. I’m Revitalight, but you can call me y/n.” You reply, and she squints a little at you.
” Revitalight? I’ve heard that name before…oh, and thank you.” She says, startled out of her contemplation as she remembered the compliment. You nodded, a soft laugh leaving you. Even with the war, she was kind and very much a child. It both saddened and warmed you how her demeanor did not wholly mirror that of the community outside.
You both make it to the couches, where another group of teenagers are milling around. Their idle conversations pause as you stand at the edge of one of the couches. You wave politely, and Mina gestures toward you excitedly.
“Please welcome American Pro Hero: Revitalight!” She introduced, and you don’t have it in you to fight the American label- you’ve been a Pro in America for longer than she’s been in school. No point in telling her you went to Yuuei, too - or that you were still under the HPSC’s rule. The others say hello enthusiastically, waving from where they were sprawled out on the couch.
“Please, call me y/n.” You say, sitting on an unoccupied section of the couch.
Mina explains you’re looking for their sensei, and a girl with frog-adjacent features stands from her place on the couch.
“I’ll get Sensei down here for you then.” She says, voice horse how you’d expect a frogs to be. You send her a grateful smile.
” Thank you.” You respond, and she does little more than nod and disappear down the hall.
“Why are you here, Revitalight-san?” A boy with glasses says, and you pause to consider what you can tell them.
“The commission asked me to return, and I’ve been dispatched here. Principal Nedzu said I should head here before finding Recovery Girl.” You explain, trying to ignore the way the kids around you sober up quickly at the mention of the Hero Commission. You didn’t know how much they knew, but you hoped it wasn’t much- for their sake.
“What’s your quirk do?” A blonde asks, and you can see his curiosity blatantly on his face. You smile and raise your hand, gesturing toward him. He straightens from his flopped-over position and stands excitedly, opening his arms.
” Hit me!” He says, pouting at the bespeckled boy when he tries to get him to sit down.
” Denki, we don’t know their quirk. What if it’s dangerous,” he cautions, and you laugh a little to ease his worry.
“Don’t worry, um,” Mina whispers into your ear quickly, “Iida-kun. This won’t hurt him at all.” You reassure, and Iida settles back into his seat without further complaint.
The kids watch as you flex your hand just slightly, and suddenly, a bright yellowish-white light floats slowly from your hand to Denki, curling and moving in the air. The glow hits Denki straight in the chest, and he takes a deep breath.
“Woah.” He says, shaking out his body and looking down just in time to see the glow follow lightning-like patterns below his skin and fade down his arms. You tilt your head and eye the lightning bolt in his hair.
“Your quirk is electricity, right?” You say, prompting him to nod. The way the kids stare at you makes you want to laugh, but you hold off in case they take it mockingly.
“I can tell from the patterns it made. I only see those jagged lines from people who have lightning quirks or have been exposed to high voltages.” You explain, and Denki brightens at the information.
Mina’s about to ask a question when someone clears their throat behind you, and the kids all deflate into exaggerated whines or pouts.
“That’s enough, all of you, to your rooms. Or anywhere but here, really. If you even think of eavesdropping, I’ll have you scrubbing bathrooms for a week.” The voice says dryly, and you grin as the kids file out quickly, whining, “This is a common area; it’s not eavesdropping,” and “Sensei’s such a buzzkill.”
You turn to face them with a sheepish smile already in place.
“Sorry for intruding. Principal Nedzu said I should speak to you before,” You pause, finally registering who exactly you’re talking to. The gaze you get in return is similarly dumbfounded.
“Shou- Aizawa-san.” You stutter, correcting yourself. The man before you is every bit the boy you remember, even with the injuries you can see littering his body. The same tired eyes, pitch black hair, moody expression.
And still, you’re hit by his age. The mature structure of his jaw and the strong frame that screamed, well, Pro Hero hit you more than you’d think. Most of all, his height struck you. Last you had seen, Aizawa was pretty short for your age. He stands in front of you at six feet at least, and you wonder when a growth spurt that big hit him.
You flick your fingers anxiously, and his eyes follow the gesture for just a moment.
“Y/n. It’s been…a long time.” He says, crossing his arms in an attempt to seem casual. You can see the awkwardness of the action, though, in the way his shoulders tense and his brow furrows. The familiarity makes you a little light-headed. You smile, nodding.
“Yeah, it has. 12 years, now?” You say, looking around for just a moment to avoid his gaze. His hair, longer than you remember it being, is tied into a half-up, half-down style. He nods, and you lace your fingers together in front of you.
“Nedzu said the commission was sending someone, though he didn’t say it’d be you.” He says, and you try to find some emotion in the statement. When you don’t identify anything negative from his words, you shrug.
” Principal Nedzu didn’t tell me you were the teacher I was meeting either. Speaking of,” You hum, stepping closer. Aizawa shifts, obviously watching you but not moving away. “Sensei? Didn’t know you wanted to be a teacher, Aizawa.”
Aizawa grimaces slightly with a sigh and drops his arms from his chest to shove them into his pockets. “It’s not really my thing. But someone has to do it.” He says, and you squint a little at his response. With his hands hidden in his pockets, it clicks in your mind, and you bite back a smug smile. Aizawa had a similar tell to you- his hands start motioning to crack his knuckles, even if no pop comes of it.
You let a calmer grin settle on your face, staring up at him.
“Totally. Either way, I think it’s pretty cool of you.” You compliment, and his mouth twitches faintly in response.
“Why are you here?” He asks suddenly, and for a moment, you can see in his face that he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
You huff a sigh, “Same reason as everyone else. The war effort needed help, so the commission sent me home.” You explain. Aizawa nodded absently, reaching up to rub at his neck as he thought.
“You’re here to help Recovery Girl, then?” He says, face serious. You shake your hand in a so-so motion.
“Yes and no. I’ll help RG here for now, but I’ve been told they’ll send me with patrol groups and into war zones when needed. I can heal en mass in a way she can’t.” You shrug. Aizawa frowned, and you could tell he wasn’t happy with how the hero commission seemed comfortable throwing you wherever. Still, they’ve been this blasé with your life since you agreed to the program years ago, so it wasn’t something you concerned yourself with anymore.
“That doesn’t seem sustainable at all,” Aizawa says, critical as always. You give him an unimpressed look.
“War generally isn’t, no. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you say, waving your hand casually. “Anyway. I meant to ask, what’s up with…this.” You say, gesturing toward the eye patch. He pursed his lips briefly.
“War causality. Still getting used to it.” He rumbled, and you smiled gently at him.
“If anyone can kick ass with one eye, it’s you, Aizawa.” You hit his shoulder playfully, almost in slow motion as a joke. The movement is familiar, and for just a second, you remember how this same punch made him hiss like a disgruntled cat and glare at you, teetering away from the force.
Now, the stare he levels you with is unimpressed; mouth curled upward. He hadn’t budged. Your stomach flutters for a moment. “You’re ridiculous.” He mutters. That is familiar. The warm tone in his voice makes you painfully nostalgic, and through the ache in your chest, you laugh at his response.
“One of us has to be,” You tease, backing up and crossing your arms. Aizawa shoots you a look and rolls his eye. Without another word, he turns back down the hall he came from, and it only takes you a beat to realize you were supposed to follow.
“C’mon, Mic would wanna see you.” He calls, waving a lazy hand to gesture you over. You follow eagerly, almost tripping over yourself.
a/n — helloooo welcome to this little work of mine, made in honor of a friend who's been trying to get me to watch K/K project for years and I finally made her a little yata 1shot teehee
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Yata Misaki x GN! reader
Tags— fluff, established relationship, christmas time cuz yay!!!
CW/TW— eating? i hope you like watermelon :')
You huffed, quickly entering the house and shutting the door behind you. Snow had never been kind to you- for all that it was pretty, it made for numb fingers and a stinging nose.
”Shit,” you huffed, pulling off your gloves and clenching your hands into fists. You clumsily toed off your shoes and shoved them closer to the wall, leaving the genkan and traveling further into the house.
“Yata-kun, I’m home.” You called, flipping on the kitchen light and blinking away the white sheen that came with the sudden brightness flooding the room.
The only warning you get is the sound of quick footfalls barreling towards you before you stumble backward, spluttering from the sudden impact of someone’s full weight.
Yata’s arms snake around your middle, his loud laughs making your own laughter bubble up. “Welcome home!” He cheered, smiling wide. You giggled at his excitement, quickly returning his hug and pushing him away so you could regain your footing.
“Excited, huh?” You teased, eyeing the way he practically vibrated with energy.
“Hell yeah! You’ve been gone all day, so I’ve been sitting around like a loser,” he huffed, peeved at the reminder. You shot him a fond look and hip-checked him as you passed, motioning for him to follow you into the kitchen.
“You could’ve gone out, you know. I just had some work things to finish up.” You hummed, opening the fridge and out the container of cut watermelon. grabbing two forks, you set the bowl on the bar and handed Yata the other when he sat on the opposite side of the bar, settling into one of the stools you had. You settled on leaning on the counter, arms crossed to support yourself as you both started sharing the watermelon.
He quickly munched on a piece, “I went skating for a bit, but everyone else was busy.” His words were muffled by the fruit in his mouth, and you grimaced at the sight of him almost failing to catch the juice that threatened to drip out of his mouth. You laughed and shook your head, finishing your watermelon piece before speaking.
“Yeah, that’s fair. The office was almost empty except for me and a few others in my branch.” You hummed, stabbing another piece with your fork. He nodded, doing the same with his own. His face lit up, and he looked back up, pointing his fork at your face.
“Oh, hey! I got your gift today. Not to brag or anything, but I’d say it’s the best ever.” He said smugly, sending a smug grin. You narrowed your eyes and smiled, leaning closer.
“Woah, really? What’d you get?” You said, excitement lacing your tone. Yata nodded and leaned closer, too, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’ll love it. It’s a-” Yata stops short, jolting from the shock of what he almost fell for. Your grin turned sharp, and Yata scowled, a pink blush making itself known across his cheeks.
”That’s a cheap trick, bastard!” He huffed, embarrassed. You laughed and straightened, unable to keep from reacting to Yata’s pouting expression.
”Sorry, Yata-kun. You’re just too easy.” You sighed, watching Yata roll his eyes with a huff.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t pull that crap,” he whined, a smile pulling at his pout. You nodded, quickly munching on a watermelon piece before answering.
”Scouts honor, or whatever.” You shrugged, amused by Yata’s grumbling acceptance as he continued to eat the fruit in front of him.
“I have your gift, too. It’s in my room- just haven’t put it under the tree yet.” You said, grinning when the disgruntled furrow on the other’s brow practically melted away. He straightens in his chair, satisfied.
“We’re just good at Christmas like that.” He huffed, chest puffed. You sat in silence for a beat, blinking blankly at him. Yata blinks back, still posturing ridiculously.
You both break into giggles, Yata’s silly act falling away. You snicker and gasp, quickly trying to regain composure.
”Okay, okay, whew.” You muttered, fanning your face. Yata is similarly regulating his breathing, face down on the counter. His shoulders shake up and down silently. “Real. So real.” You finally agree, laughing lightly. Yata lifts his head and nods, sufficiently calm again.
“Hey, wanna watch that show you like?” He said, hopping off of the stool. You moved to pick up the watermelon bowl and nodded, both of them moving away from the kitchen and into the living room.
“Titan Blitz?”
“That’s the one with the big human things right?”
“Yeah, Yata-kun.”
“Then yes, it’ll make me cry though.”
“Then why do you watch it?”“It’s good!”
note — i haven't seen too much of yata just yet i hope i did him justice!! he seems like a little cutie. also "titan blitz" is a half-assed attempt to make a alt title for attack on titan LMAO!! just a sweet little fic, hope u enjoyed reading!
a/n —hey all! hope ur doin' well, drink water if you haven't! have this as a treat. it's 2k and some more but i cant be bothered to check for specifics. (p.s sorry if the tarot aspects of this are wonky! i did my best to research and i pulled reference from my sister's experience with tarot cards/reading.)
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Dazai Osamu x GN!reader
Tags— 22/ada dazai, flirting?, pre-slash, don't question why reader's given a key, reader works under ango but he's also they're dad figure, it's a whole thing, mentions of sskk though not explicitly platonic or romantic, take that as you wish, dazai's infuriating habit of burying feelings and then one day he'll die
CW/TW— dazai. (/j, none i can think of.)
note — reader's ability in this is based on one that my friend chose for our self-ship au. "Teacher of Truth by Saneatsu Mushanokoji: The user can employ tarot cards to gain insight into the past, current, and possible future situations. The user needs to know what each of the cards mean in order to properly interpret what they say." it's from a post on tumblr, but I couldn't find it for the life of me! i'll credit if i can. anyway, it's been tweaked a little so i'm here to explain. in this, reader can choose to use their ability during a reading or not, but the tarot cards are always personal to them. people they know will sometimes show in the cards if they're important to them.
The next time Dazai sees you, it’s well before the ADA opens for the day. He’d admittedly had a rough night—sleep evaded him like always, and he hadn’t had dinner because of his own laziness. His futon was impossibly comfy. How was he meant to part with its loving warmth?
The Door to the agency creaks open, the sound not unlike the groan of the cafe floorboards only steps away. One of Dazai’s favorite activities was purposely seeking out the creaky floorboards and dancing on them so loud Kunikida would have to berate him, of course. He was intimately familiar with the annoying sounds this old building could make.
The office is darker than during working hours, but he notices the meager amount of lights still switched on. Distantly, he knows Kunikida would’ve blown a gasket about the electric bill if he had found them still on. He takes a step into the room-
Something rustles. Downstairs, an old radio plays a song he does not recognize. Pigeons flutter and coo from outside the window.
Somebody was in the agency, and had it been any of his fellow detectives, he’d have known.
“Hmmm, what’s this,” he mutters absently, volume low enough to alert whoever it was had decided to trespass.
”Dazai-san?” a soft voice calls, and Dazai pauses for a moment. A short, hollow sound follows—cards shuffling. He bites the inside of his cheek. How curious.
”Last I checked, you don’t clock in with the rest of us measly agents. Surely Ango’s fuming by now?” He hums, stepping into view of you. you’re sat at Atsushi’s desk, bag perched on top of Atsushi’s empty report trays. Dazai almost smirks at the sight— silly Atsushi, always rushing to complete everything in a timely manner. One day, he’d get him to turn them in later, hopefully months later- like he did.
”Hm, no. I clocked in earlier, but Ango wanted me over here early. Something about a mission I have to hand over to Fukuzawa-dono. I got a key from him last time, so I just let myself in.” you explained. Dazai pulled his own chair out and collapsed into it, peering down at what your hands were busying themselves with.
He realizes they’re tarot cards. Thick and sturdy under your fingers, you set them up neatly in front of yourself. The backs are a matte purple, decorated with silver details that glint as the sunrise light hits them for just a fraction of a second. The illustrations seem to flicker with movement, almost like snapshots of time shifting through an old camera, frame after frame.
”What’s got you so busy?” he asks, exaggeratingly leaning over to look at the cards. You laugh and smile, expression wobbly. He notes the change. You briefly shake out the bracelet laying on your wrist, almost nervously. You lay the last card on the desk’s surface. Atsushi’s cute cat clock ticks from where it’s placed near his report trays.
“I do readings for the day early in the morning, just in case. Sometimes, I don’t even use my ability.” You explain, keeping your voice low so as not to break the morning peace. Dazai glances at the cat clock. Soon, the secretaries and Kunikida will clock in and begin their work day. He focuses back on you and grins, intrigued.
“Anxious, then? I guess the ability to see the future will do that to ‘ya.” Dazai sighed, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. He was content to watch you finish setting the cards down in a formation he admittedly did not understand.
” What does that one mean?” he says, pointing to one of the cards. Its flickering surface shows a woman with mint-colored hair pulled up into a bun. Behind her, there’s a black mass, and she seems to be standing in a graveyard. There are two Xs at the top of the card. You redirect your attention to the card he’s hovering his finger over and smile.
”That’s Judgment—renewal, reflection, awakening, or reckoning. For a personal reading, it would mean going through a period of self-evaluation or maybe even trying to understand the people around you and your situation more.” You explain, seemingly done with the spread and setting down the other cards nearby. Dazai purses his lips.
”Sounds gloomy. Lame!” He huffs, upset by his choice. you gasp and narrow your eyes.
”Don’t call them lame! You’ll piss them off, Dazai.” You hiss, smacking him on the arm. Dazai grins and leans closer, smile growing coy.
”Really now? And how exactly does one do that?” Dazai prods. You stick your tongue out and cross your arms.
“Not telling. Now shut up and let me do my reading.” You grumble, eyes flicking over the cards. Dazai whines and throws himself forward, almost shoving you off of Atsushi’s chair.
”Dude!” You yelp, hands scrambling to grasp his coat as he rights himself. Dazai grabs you by the shoulders and shakes, intent on being the biggest possible nuisance.
”That’s boring! Do your reading laterrrr; it won’t matter, right? Ne- do a reading for me! I wanna know my future,” He begs, grinning. You blink and scowl, pushing him away.
”First off, it would matter. Doing a reading later would be a completely different outcome. Just wait. All I have to do is interpret these. I’ll do yours after.” You grumble, adjusting their sleeves and settling back into the chair. Dazai harrumphs but settles into his own chair to watch you silently read the cards.
You focus back on the cards, and Dazai settles himself by watching you idly. You’re dressed in what you always wear to work, but it’s casual enough to know doubt have been breaking the dress code had you not been working under Ango for so long. There’s a small scrunch to your nose as you focus on your task, and Dazai can spot how you run your tongue over your teeth in thought. Dazai looks away pointedly. Taking a few breaths, he forcibly clears his mind. How odd.
”Okay, done.” You hum, straightening and starting to pick up the cards. He shifts so his whole body is faced toward you. You take gentle care of the cards, putting them back into the deck.
”Why do they flicker like that? You aren’t using your ability,” he asks, curious about the shifting images on the cards. You shrug.
”Don’t know. It happens no matter what deck I use, though I prefer using this one. The images just shift into the same ones most of the time, though some have changed over time.” You explain, shuffling the cards. Dazai reaches out and hovers over your hand before poking the back of it gently. You let him despite knowing the outcome.
The images on the cards still lying on the table flicker, completely uninterrupted, even as Dazai feels the shiver of his ability eating away at yours. He hums and pulls away. He hadn’t been paying attention when he jostled you earlier, but you were right- they were unaffected.
”Strange, but not unheard of. Some ability effects aren’t considered active enough for my ability to erase.” Dazai says, allowing you to continue. you finish and present him with the deck, pulling away when he goes to take them.
”Don’t be mean to them. They’ll be mean to you. You can’t even think anything negative; they’ll know. You’re gonna cut the deck in 3, okay? We’ll do a simple reading.” you explain, and only once Dazai agrees (crosses his heart and hopes to die!) is he gently handed the cards.
”What do you want to read? We can focus on love, or money, or your career, things like that.” You say. Dazai ponders for a moment before sniffing, mouth settled into a pompous pout.
”I want to know if someone will finally be interested in a double suicide with me.” He huffs. You scoff.
”You’re insane. Okay, so love. Think about that while you cut them.” You nod, giving him the go-ahead. He runs his fingers over the well-loved edges and slots his thumbs through the deck where it feels right, setting the individual cuts down on the desk before them. He tries to take it as seriously as possible, though thinking about love has always made him squirm and itch beneath his skin.
You reach over once he’s done and clear your throat, carefully picking the top cards on each deck and laying them out in front of him. On the left, the first card flipped is a wheel, seemingly in the sky and surrounded by clouds. The clouds float by calmly, though Dazai can’t find anything particularly personal to you the way some of the other cards would show.
It’s made a little more difficult considering the card’s orientation- upside down.
You hum at it before moving on. The card in the middle is revealed, and this one piques his interest. He grins a little at the image. Two figures hold goblets in their hands, strings of power rising from the cups and meeting above their heads to form a Yin and Yang sign. The figures are startingly familiar- one dark-haired, the other light-haired. Accents in their hair match each other, silver and black clashing and melding nicely. This one’s facing right-side up. The image flickers to show the energy that swirls around, occasionally circling their respective holders.
The last one flicks onto the wooden desk with a hollow sound. The image is soft, not unlike the first one with the blue sky. A sun takes up the upper half, rays pronounced against the sky. Ttheire’s a little kid in the illustration, their beaming face scrunched up in happiness. There’s a flag clutched in one hand, with the other gripping onto the mane of the white horse they’re perched upon. Sunflowers frame them, peaking over the illustrated garden wall behind them.
It’s an endlessly endearing picture, and from the smile, he has a feeling he knows who it is. Like the last one, it’s right-side up.
You settle your chin against your palm, leaning on the table with a hum.
”That’s….a really nice reading, actually.” You move to point at the cards. Dazai sits patiently with his hands on his lap. Nothing more fascinating than seeing someone in their element, he supposed.
”That first one is The Wheel of Fortune. Upside down, it’s a little darker. It represents your past,” you pause, looking at him for a moment. “I think for you, it’s focused on the feeling of helplessness—lack of power or control…like you had love but couldn’t control how and when you lost it,” you say, your voice soft. Dazai fights to ignore the discomfort building in his throat.
”Well, what can I say? My dark past haunts me,” he bemoans, and you huff a soft laugh. You move on to the next card- the cups. You look a little embarrassed by this one.
”This one is the present. Two cups represent…well, partnership. More specifically, the realization of a new partnership. This one can be pretty romantic. I guess you’ve got something to look forward to soon,” you say, pointedly ignoring the images of his two kohais. He grins, sparing you of the teasing. He didn’t know how well you even knew Akutagawa- but it was amusing to see everyone could see what those two denied vehemently.
”The last one is the future. You got The Sun, which is actually really sweet.” Through your embarrassment, Dazai watches a sweet smile grow on your face. He matches it easily.
“It means joy and success, for you in particular. It means…whatever or whoever your two cups is for, you’ll be very happy together.” You say, and Dazai sighs wistfully.
”Maybe someone will finally want to commit suicide with me! This news might keep me alive a day longer just yet,” Dazai coos. You groan and take a deep breath, seemingly ignoring him as you duck your head down and then start to put the cards back.
”You better hope you didn’t piss this deck off, Dazai.” you huff, glaring. Dazai pouts, cradling his face in his hands.
“What?! I followed all your rules; I would never,” he whines. You flip him off and busily tuck the cards into a soft leather pouch. He lets his hands drop and watches for a moment.
”Thanks for the reading,” Dazai says, his voice back to normal. You glance at him and smile.
”Yeah, no problem. It’s nice to read without my ability once in a while,” you admit, expression soft. He grins. Something stirs in his chest.
”You can read me whenever you want, lovely.” He purrs jokingly. You startle, flushing. You glare and kick him with your foot.
”Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter. Dazai whines out a laugh, having settled on teasing you until he could see the smoke coming out your ears.
Before he could continue, the door creaks open, and the overhead lights flick on. Multiple people come shuffling in, and Dazai can hear Kunikida conversing lowly with Fukuzawa. The secretaries also file in, chattering contently amongst themselves. Fukuzawa and Kunkida pause only to greet them both. you wave politely, and Dazai salutes them both.
you blink your eyes to adjust to the light now flooding the room. Dazai huffs and stands with a groan.
”Alright, I’ve got five minutes to get out of here. You’ll be going in to see Shachou, right?” He asks, stretching. you stand and nod, giving him a look.
”Where are you going?” you ask, picking up your bag. He groans at the way his back pops as he rights himself from his stretching.
”Home. I only came here 'cause I was bored. But in the long run, it’ll be a lot funnier if Kunikida’s mad all morning when I don’t show up~” He snickers. you shake your head, a smile pulling at your mouth.
“You’re so lame. See you, then.” You sighed, heading down the hall Kunikida and Fukuzawa had disappeared down.
”And yet you love me. ‘Till we meet again,” he calls, pointedly ignoring the yell you let out.
”Whatever!” you yelped, and Dazai let the agency door click closed behind him.
He grins. Curious indeed.
note — can you tell i love brothers! atsushi and dazai? also, the woman in Judgement is Mizuki Tsujimura, who I headcanon is pretty good friends with reader in this one. :) please let me know if there are any pronoun inconsistencies! this was originally written with she/her pronouns, and i did my best to fix it to match the gender neutral style i like to use for tumblr stuffs.
this is a req for your cafe event! 🩷
15/Dark Era dazai x reader
word: hm.....sick (like the kind of sick after you drink too much)
bar lupin shall be the death of me🥹
If you need a name: April
a/n —hiii april! :D ty for sending this in! i've never tried my hand at writing dark era dazai so i hope i can do our little funky guy justice lmao :P
blanca’s cafe event!
this event is now CLOSED! feel free to leave a normal old ask, though!
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Dazai Osamu x GN!reader
Tags— dark era dazai, he's a little mean but what can ya do, regular dazai suicidal antics (help him), killer hangover (sort of), bullying him into being cared for seems to be a theme amongst the ppl in his life (looking at you, kunikida)
CW/TW— drinking, underage drinking, mentions of vomiting, dehydration, suicidal themes
please keep yourself safe.
note — i ended up modeling what reader is to this dazai as something similar to what higuchi is to akutagawa. not exactly, of course, since all four of these characters are complex and very much different but the premise was...inspired, i think. it's interesting. dazai is interesting!
𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:
"Dead to Me by Kali Uchis"
00:34 ━━●─────── 03:19
ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ
"i don't know what you've been told. see i am not your enemy."
The walk up to the roof is familiar. The stairway is damp, and the stairs creak under your feet; the building is one of the older ones left in the city and, therefore, made of wood instead of the metal you were used to seeing.
You open the door to the roof, biting the inside of your cheek as you step out into the open and let it shut behind you. The soft night wind bites at your face in greeting as soon as you are entirely on the roof. Your eyes dart to the right, and you find what you’re looking for in the exact place it always is.
“Are you done now, Dazai-san?” You ask, approaching the man. He’s sat on the ledge of the building. Despite seeing him in this position more times than you could count, unease still seeps into your stomach and pools at the bottom. You stop just beside him, and without thinking much of it, you do the math to make sure you’d be able to catch him if anything happened.
You shuffle a foot closer. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks.
“Yes.” Dazai’s response is clipped, but he takes a deep and visible breath before speaking. You know immediately he’s had too much to drink.
“Are you here alone?” You ask, despite knowing that Oda-san and Ango-san wouldn’t have let Dazai up, and Dazai wouldn’t have been on the roof if Oda-san and Ango-san were with him.
“None of your business.” He huffs, almost clumsy, as he swings his gangly legs back toward the roof and stands slower than usual. You frowned but kept your hands to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate a steadying hand. You turn first, keeping track of his footsteps that sound quietly just after yours. You hold the door to the stairwell open for him, and Dazai passes you without the slightest acknowledgment.
He heads out of the building without another word, and instead of following his steps back to his…room, you quickly round the corner and head down the steps to bar Lupin. Two steps at a time, your breath comes out in cloudy puffs due to the cold. The bar door creaks ever so slightly as you open it, and the man at the bar gives you a strained smile when he sees you.
“Got him?” He asks, putting down the glass he’d been drying. You nod, sighing lightly.
“Could I have some of those bread rolls you sell? Put them on Dazai-san’s tab, please. I’ll be back to pay it off later in the week anyway.” You say, leaning on the bar. He smiles gently at you and packs the little rolls into a box for you to take. He hands them over and tilts his head toward the door.
“Now get going. It’s too damn cold and late for you kids to be out.” He shoos you away, and you hurry back into the winter air again.
Fortunately, Dazai has slumped against a building wall not too far away. A flickering streetlight shines above him, keeping his form visible to you despite the layers of black he insists on wearing.
You walk to him quickly, and as you near, he straightens and doesn’t bother to look your way. You do him a favor and pretend he hadn’t been slack-jawed a second ago, half coherent and entirely too relaxed in public.
You fumble the take-out box open and hand him one of the rolls, ignoring the hazy way his eyes roll over your entire form as he takes it. A Dazai this plastered doesn’t have much of the subtly everyone might expect from him.
“These are cold.” He huffed, demolishing half of the roll in one bite. You smile tightly at him.
“Unfortunately, they’re not kept fresh for 18 hours, Dazai-san. We’re lucky Lupin had any leftovers at all.” You sigh. Dazai busies himself with the rest of the roll in his hands, so you don’t get much of a response.
The walk to the shipping yard isn’t too eventful. Fellow drunks and the shady people that populate Yokohama’s streets at night become less and less as they tread deeper into Port Mafia territory. For all the fear that the PM no doubt instilled into Yokohama’s citizens, they weren’t the type to break promises. Shop owners paid their protection fee monthly, and they were dutifully kept from any damage caused by the (admittedly desperate and exaggeratedly large population caused by the Port Mafia) local criminals.
Despite his inebriated state, Dazai’s unsteady feet lead him toward the container he calls home- which you’re grateful for since you couldn’t ever remember which was his in the sea of containers the Mafia had come in and out of the shipping yard.
You watch him fumble with the latches, managing only to flip those over. Dazai had never been the strongest, so when he goes to pull on the handles and pop the container open, he stumbles backward and just barely manages to not fall flat on his ass.
“Um.” He slurs, blinking at his hands. They must have let go without him trying to. You bite back a laugh and pull the handles, only slightly staggering with the weight of the door once it pops open.
Dazai huffs softly and heads in, leaving you to close the door behind you by a cable he had fashioned to the door. You secure the door and turn to flick the lamp in the corner on, illuminating the space in a warm glow. The lamp was an addition you insisted on. Eventually, Dazai allowed you to drag in the thing (along with a semi-quiet-enough generator to keep it running). You had a feeling it was only ever turned on when you were in here.
Dazai had collapsed onto his mattress, worryingly quiet and face down. You put the container with the rolls down near the makeshift bed and gently roll him over, making sure he settled on his side to avoid choking on his own vomit in the night. His face is startlingly blank when you can see it again, and he eyes you with contempt.
“I didn’t say you could touch me.” He says lightly, though you know better than to think he wasn’t bothered.
“Sorry, Dazai-san. You wouldn’t enjoy dying in a pool of your own vomit, I think.” You answer lowly, slowly reaching for a bottle of water that had clearly rolled away one night and hadn’t been picked up since.
He gives you that same withering look and brings a hand up to rest over his eyes. You imagine the headache he’s sporting must be killer- Dazai was not one to be nice to himself, especially not with something so destructive as drinking.
You gesture for him to take the bottle in your hands, shaking it lightly as if he were a toddler who needed the visual cue. He huffs and takes it.
“You should leave.” He mutters, haphazardly bringing the bottle’s opening to his mouth and drinking messily. You ignore the way some of the water overwhelms him and dribbles down the side of his mouth.
“I should, but it wouldn’t do to have you die by choking. Even asleep, I hear it’s a horrible way to die.” You hum, finally shifting into a comfortable sitting position next to the mattress.
A sober Dazai might’ve stared you down until you left, and a particularly pissy one would’ve shoved you out himself.
As he was, he grumbled and let the bottle fall back into your waiting hands and promptly went to sleep, sagging like a corpse into the bed. You place the bottle next to you and sigh as quietly as possible- Dazai could be one hell of a light sleeper.
His breathing deepens quickly, and it’s startlingly quiet despite his inebriation. Dazai was always like this, somehow- walking the line between alive and dead. He was your superior by multiple clearance levels, sure, but not much older than you and not all that physically impressive. His strength was in his demeanor, of course- in his sharp tongue and quick-witted mind.
He was still young, though, and despite being a bit younger than him you were always a little taken aback by how other members treated him when his face was still round and soft like a child’s. The only people who really treated him like a kid you could count on one hand, and one of them was his age.
You’d keep these thoughts to yourself, of course. You’d seen people get shot for much less let alone question their superiors power.
The lamp flickered in the corner. The yellow light made him look sickly. The floor of the crate was rigged and unforgiving, but you preferred to stay where you were. In case Dazai needed anything.
And if it meant you got to settle the tightness in your chest by watching his own move steadily throughout the night, then no one else would have to know.
a/n — saw this pic on twitter and immediately knew what i had to do. I've been brainrotting for more soft atsushi/reader content sooo..tada!
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Atsushi Nakajima x GN! reader
Tags— fluff, established relationship, cat(s) <33
CW/TW— none!
Byakko slinked around your ankles as you entered the front door, meowing in greeting.
“Hey, sweet thing.” You muttered, haphazardly dumping your keys into the bowl on your kitchen island as you passed it, eyes heavy and a little dry from your shift at the café. Your backpack weighs heavy on your shoulders.
“Welcome home.” Atsushi waved from the couch, smile soft and drowsy. His hair was tousled, and you could tell from the blankets around him that he’d been napping for a while.
“I’m home, Atsu.” You smile back, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss his forehead. He quickly brings a hand up to gingerly touch your cheek, a quick movement to settle the need in his stomach, urging him to swipe as much of his skin as possible against yours.
“Let me shower off this awful smell, and I’ll be back.” You huff, pulling away and dragging your feet down the hall. One of the downsides to working at Café Uzumaki was the overwhelming smell of stale black coffee lingering on everything after work, from the collar of your shirt to the roots of your hair.
Atsushi hummed in response, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. His jaw cracks, and he settles with a sigh. Byakko jumps onto the couch and meows again, insistent. He laughs at the cat and scratches under its chin, prompting the grey and white tabby to roll and settle on his lap, content to be pampered.
“Spoiled thing,” he grinned, letting the cat do as it pleased despite his plans to finally stand.
Something in his mind stirs, and Atsushi feels that Byakko grumbles in her space, still very displeased by the tiny thing sharing a namesake.
A low hiss rumbles in his chest, and he bites it back in fear of scaring the tabby in his lap.
“Quiet you.” He scolds, quiet and light. The big cat in his mind space grumbles but curls back up, content to retreat and ignore the outside world once again. The Byakko in his lap rolls back onto its feet and abandons him, having gotten her fill of affection and moving on to patrol the apartment again.
With a grunt, Atsushi pulls himself out of the blanket pile, padding over to the kitchen and wiping away the sleep left in his eyes.
He pulls out a bowl from the cabinet and busies himself with serving you enough of everything.
He’s grabbing another bowl for himself when you reappear dressed in PJs and damp hair.
“Hi again. Where’s Kyouka?” You ask, leaning on the kitchen island. He pulls together his plate and hands you the other one.
“She and Tanizaki got assigned to a case in the morning, and it ran late, so she’s spending the night with them,” Atsushi explained. You hummed and nodded.
When you and Atsushi decided to move out of the ADA dorms, you agreed that he’d bring up the idea with Kyouka. She had been surprised you two still wanted her to live with you but had agreed enthusiastically. It didn’t take long to move into a building about three blocks from the agency, with enough space for all three of you (and your then-new cat friend.)
You both settle on the couch again and eat idly, the TV playing a random documentary that Atushi had fallen asleep watching earlier.
“Byakko’s still upset that she shares a name now,” Atushi commented, swallowing the last bite of his dinner and putting the bowl on the coffee table. You grinned, watching the topic in question curl up on the armchair near the couch.
“Poor girl. It’s just funny, I couldn’t resist.” You laughed, knowing Atsushi could feel the tiger’s discontent in his mind. He smiled and nodded, blinking slowly.
“It is pretty funny... she’ll get over it.” He assured, shuffling to sit closer to you once you finished your dinner and taking your bowl from your hands. You allow him to lean closer, though just before he can fully settle against you, you’re hit with a realization. You grin, gently pushing at him so you can scramble off the couch.
“I have a surprise!” You say, rushing to your bedroom. Atsushi sits up, briefly disoriented by your quick disappearance. Byakko purrs slightly in his sleep nearby, and Atsushi settles on, watching his balled-up form move with every breath while he waits.
When you reappear, your hands are behind your back, and a giddy grin is in place. Atsushi smiles suspiciously at you and tilts his head.
“What do you have?” He asked, eyes narrowing naturally as you approached. You smile and stop in front of him, separated by the back of the couch again.
“Put your hands out and close your eyes.” You instruct, almost buzzing with mirth. Atsushi humors you and puts his hands out, his hearing picking up on some sort of fabric held in your hands. You quickly place them in his hands, watching him blink his eyes open almost cautiously.
In his hands are...socks. Fuzzy socks, the wool soft and warm on his palms. He grinned and thumbed at them, noting the multiple pairs. It takes him a moment to realize the pattern.
Similar to Byakko’s- the house cat- coat, striped grey and white with snow-white sock paws. The socks were adorable, and Atsushi couldn’t help the laugh that left him.
“These are so cute, love.” He grinned, holding the three pairs up to see them better. You nod and laugh, glad he liked them.
“Right? I saw them on my lunch break at the Plaza. I wanted to show you and Kyouka, but I’ll show her when she gets home tomorrow morning.” You say, taking Kyouka’s pair and laying them on the back of the armchair Byakko had curled up on.
Atsushi nods and carefully pulls apart the socks from the little plastic pieces holding the socks together, handing you a pair. Quickly, he busied himself with putting on his own.
He leans back once they’re on, shifting his feet slightly.
“They’re comfy,” He hummed, pleased. You slip yours on, too, and press closer to him, hips touching as you both squeeze onto the couch section long enough for you both to extend your legs.
“Sometimes fuzzy socks can be overwhelming...but these are good.” You agree, feet moving to rub against each other as you got a feel for the texture. He nods and offers his hand. You take his easily, intertwining your fingers and letting your hands fall together.
The exhaustion from your shift sets in again. You find yourself sinking closer to Atsushi as you watch the documentary still playing on the television (despite having missed the first three episodes and having no idea what was happening).
Atsushi relaxes into the couch, relishing in the pressure of your body pressed into his. He sees Byakko from the corner of his eyes, watching the tabby stretch and meander to the couch. The cat quickly jumps and crawls into your lap, settling where his and your thighs are pressed together. Atsushi smiles tiredly and reaches down, running an idle hand through the fur on Byakko’s stomach as the cat squirms into position.
The documentary drones on as he leans his head onto yours, grinning at the steady movement of your chest that told him you had already fallen asleep.
“Sleep well,” Atsushi muttered, content to fall asleep beside you despite having woken up not long ago.
note — my favorite thing ever is atsushi being able to feel/communicate with byakko. it's the cutest ever (and i thought having a house cat named the same thing would be really funny. especially since byakko just means white tiger, to my knowledge).
a/n — hi hi! miguel is such a complex character and my feelings for him are similarly complex lol. i hope i did him justice!!
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Miguel O'Hara x GN! reader
Tags— fluff, pre-relationship, christmas time cuz yay!! (ur spider name is azure bite cuz i imagined ur suit to be blue)
CW/TW— implied boss x worker...thats it
“Oh, please!” Spiderbyte whines, clasping her hands together. Her eyes presumably widened under her mask as the stylized eyes widened comically in a version of puppy eyes you’d seen many times before. You gave her a look and shook your head.
“No, dude. It’s not my fault you didn’t finish that report. I did all of my work and won’t do yours.” You replied, leaning back into your office chair. Spiderbyte, or Margo, whined and deflated. The younger girl hid her face in her arms, crossed on the desk before her. The girl was smart as a whip, but might as well have been allergic to formal paperwork.
“Not even as my Christmas gift?” Margo pleaded, her voice muffled. You smiled, biting back laughter.
“Nope. Already got you one.” You said, leaning forward to turn off your hologram desk and log out of the Spider Network. Margo perked up at the mention, her mask disintegrating into little pixels and exposing her face entirely.
“Really? What is it?” She asked, grinning widely. You gave her a baffled look as you hung your bag on your shoulder, putting on your scarf and gloves.
“Why would I tell you that, Margo? You’ll see on Christmas, like everyone else does with Christmas presents.” You laughed, disregarding the dismayed whine that left the girl.
“I’ll see you next week, bye.” You said, sending Margo a little wave as you left the area. Pressing your palm to the reader next to the door, the door slid open easily.
You grimaced at the amount of light leaking from the windows in the main area. Spiders bustled around, some running and some lounging around the chairs and tables laid out. The door closes behind you, leaving you in the hall surrounded by other spider people (and a hilarious number of Peter Parkers!)
You settled your headphones in their place and started walking, thumbing at your phone screen to find the playlist you were feeling most for the bus ride home. Well- home. You’d be making a trip to your apartment in this world to get some things in order before going back to your earth.
It’s just your luck that only two minutes into the search, your spider-sense goes wild, and you’re turning on your heel faster than you could even think of.
You stumble backward, face contorting in surprise when you come face to face with a…horse.
31913- or Cowboy Spiderman- stared back at you, sheepishly trying to get his horse to back up from where it was whinnying two centimeters from your nose. Begrudgingly, you shove your headphones down to rest by your neck.
“Sorry, Azure Bite. Got a little too close there,” he drawled, patting his horse’s shoulder as it finally took a few steps back and allowed you to crane your neck upward to look at him properly.
“You’re good. Is there…anything you need?” You asked, starting to feel the awkwardness settle in the interaction. Your brain had just started preparing for no conversation, and the interruption left you reeling slightly.
“Uh...have you happened to see Miguel around?” He asked, voice growing small and nervous.
“Nope. Not for a few hours; he should’ve gone home at 3. Why?” You frowned, shaking your head. Cowboy nodded, tongue clicking in dissatisfaction.
” Ah, I had a question for him. Pav and Jess said they hadn’t seen him leave. Sorry for botherin’ ya. Happy holidays!” He said, nodding his goodbye and taking off at a moderate trot. You stood still, mouth pursed.
‘Miguel isn’t the nicest boss,’ you reasoned. ‘He’s a grown man. It really is none of my business. He likes to be mysterious, and who am I to interrupt?’
…
You turned around, shoving your headphones back on, and quickly approached the center elevator in the middle of the floor. Other spiders send you waves and quick acknowledgments, and you do your best to answer them slightly despite being on a mission.
You rush into the elevator, closing the doors before anyone else can enter. Pressing your palm to the reader on the console and waiting for the extra buttons to show up, you hoped no one needed to get on this specific elevator.
The panel lights up, and five extra buttons quickly emerge from the metal, sliding into place seamlessly. You quickly pressed the second one and waited for the elevator to jolt to a start before tilting your head toward the ceiling.
“LYLA, you there?” You called, squinting at the bright light of LYLA’s projection despite having anticipated it. LYLA hovers near the button panel, on a special little square section just for her. She grins, crossing her legs as she files her nails.
“Yessum, Bite?” She crooned, fluttering her eyes from behind pink-tinted glasses. You waved lightly, leaning on the back wall of the elevator.
” Is Miguel in his hiding hole again?” You asked, to check. LYLA paused her filing and pursed her lips, tilting her head.
“Not sure I can tell you that! The boss said no one should bother him.” LYLA hummed. You gave her a look, vaguely amused.
“Since when have you listened to Miguel?” You laughed. LYLA grinned sharply and nodded, her holographic form standing up as soon as the elevator doors opened with a ping.
“You’re right! He’s up here, ‘been moping for hours. Have fun.” She waved cheekily, the hologram quickly shutting off as you stepped onto the floor.
The five extra floors you had clearance to were Miguel’s personal floors. Few other people had access to them (including Margo and Jess, to name some), which made them prime real estate for when Miguel needed to run from people.
“Miguel?” You called, cautious of how dark the living space seemed to be. You almost thought LYLA had lied when a gruff voice startled you out of your head.
“What are you doing here.” He answered, voice low and angry the way it usually was. Your ears quickly clock the direction it came from, leading you toward the balcony part that wasn’t visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The door was left open, cold air billowing into the room. The chill immediately nips at your nose and cheeks when you step out.
“Sorry. People were looking for you, apparently. I thought you left hours ago.” You shrugged, shoving your hands in your coat pockets. Miguel glared at you from where he sat, slumped into an oversized patio chair. He’s nursing a glass of whiskey, the knuckles on his hands turning a prominent pinkish tone due to the freezing air.
“Who?” He asked, bringing the glass to his lips. His cheeks and nose are flushed from the cold, too. Despite his black knit sweater, Miguel had foregone any essential layering that would have saved him from the cold.
” 31913. Didn’t tell me why, though. He seemed a little nervous.” You said, clenching and unclenching your fists in your pockets. ‘Shit, it’s so damn cold out here.’
“You didn’t ask?” He said accusingly, face sour. Your face screwed up.
” I’m off the clock. Whatever he’s got going on has to wait until I come back in next week.” You defended, disregarding the scoff Miguel let out. Your brow furrows, making a point to let your eyes rove over his form.
” You should head inside, you know. You’ll get a killer cold out here with no layers.” You said, not unfamiliar with his unhealthy habits. Miguel ignored you and brought his cup back to his mouth, lowering his head.
You sighed heavily and stepped closer to him, ignoring how Miguel stiffened and shifted to face you like you were a threat. With one quick motion, you unloop the scarf around your neck and weave it around his, leaving it folded neatly and covering his mouth.
“I really don’t want to deal with you sick. Merry Christmas, Miguel. I’ll see you next week.” You say, leaving the stunned-still man on the balcony and making your way back to the elevator.
You hear the chair screech backward just as the elevator doors click shut, and LYLA’s back on her little perch without prompting.
“Thanks, he’s been brooding outside for hours. He’s the worst when he’s sick.” She whines, pulling at her short hair. You laugh, nodding.
“Of course. I hate him sick too; it’s like he’s four years old when he’s got a runny nose.” You say, grimacing. LYLA beams.
“Yeah, yeah! Exactly. I’ll remind him to give that scarf back, by the way. Have a Merry Christmas!” LYLA yells, waving bye enthusiastically as you arrive on the ground floor and start your trek back to the bus station as initially planned.
You walk to the station with the wind biting at your face, and when you return to the HQ a week later, you adamantly refuse to tell anyone about the snotty nose you had the entire week prior.
ago.
note — there's not much miguel in this, ironically. i had a ton of fun just writing the spider world so, sorry!! i think it fits, though. Miguel is a very guarded man and this little fic is sort of a view into how you manage to worm through his walls (without even trying to, really.)
p.s i love lyla
