jacket abuser x reader pls
⊹ ࣪ ˖ final jacket
you kept your head down as you walked through the crowded collodi hallway. everyone knew the rules here. you didn't make eye contact with the seniors, you didn't eat in the courtyard, and you absolutely never crossed him.
or rather, it.
the red jacket.
ever since niccolo punched him in the locker room after chiara rejected him, something changed. it didn't just take the punch, it absorbed the raw, toxic anger. now, it ran the school.
you bumped into something soft but unyielding. a cold metal zipper scraped against your shoulder.
you froze. the entire hallway went dead silent.
“watch where you're walking,” a raspy, fabric-muffled voice growled.
you slowly looked up. the red jacket was leaning against the metal lockers, its empty red sleeves crossed confidently over its chest. it didnt have a head, but you could feel its intense, brooding stare. it smelled like expensive cologne, dust, and pure fury.
“s–scusa mi,” you stammered, gripping your backpack straps.
one sleeve suddenly uncrossed, slamming against the locker right next to your head. you flinched as the thick nylon material pinned you in place. the jacket leaned in uncomfortably close.
“sorry doesn't fix a wrinkled hem, stronza” it whispered, popping its collar in a fluid, arrogant motion.
the crowd of students watched in shock. nobody messed with the jacket. just last week, he gave brando a synthetic zipper-burn so bad he cried in the cafeteria, and rumor has it even niccolo is absolutely terrified to throw another punch anywhere near him now.
“what do you want from me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
the main zipper moved up and down slightly, almost like a smirk. “you're doing my laundry. tonight. gentle cycle only.”
you blinked, anger momentarily replacing your fear. “i'm not your maid. and don't you live in the gym lost and found bin?”
the empty sleeve grabbed your chin, tilting your face up. “careful. you don't want to see what happens when i get put in the dryer on high heat. eight o'clock. bring the expensive fabric softener.”
before you could argue, it pushed off the locker. it didn't have legs, but it somehow strutted down the hallway, its synthetic shell swishing with every step to a nonexistent beat.
you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. you just got targeted by the most dangerous piece of outerwear in rome. you hated him. you really did. but as you watched his bright red hem disappear around the corner, you couldn't help but wonder what he was hiding under all those zippers.
