di-in-al

[di-in-al]

~Drifting into Desire~ PART IV

>Warnings: Profanity. Smoking.

>Word Count: 8.8k

>Tags: 18+ future smut + MDNI + all characters over age 21 + 1990s themed + no quirks + reader insert

>A/N: heyyyyyyy! we finally got us some Bakugo action in this chappy. if you're interested, I highly encourage listening to the initial d soundtrack during the race scenes. also, if you have any feedback on anything, I would love to hear (: I hope you enjoy!

p.s. Get a look at Y/N's car with an official piece of artwork for the story! -> Parked.

>taglist: @simp-plague

part III masterlist

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The sun had dipped below the jagged horizon, painting the sky in a breathtaking palette of amber and crimson that bathed the mountain pass in an ethereal golden glow. You eased your car to a halt at the starting line, the engine's low purr reverberating through the valley. The crisp evening air crackled with electric anticipation, sending shivers down your spine. Bakugo leaned against his gleaming orange RX-7, its polished surface reflecting the fading light like liquid fire. His piercing crimson eyes locked onto you, burning with an intensity that could melt steel, his lips curled into a predatory smirk that promised no mercy on the winding road ahead.

"You ready, Rookie?" His deep voice carried a note of mockery, a challenge in his steady gaze.

You smirked, the engine of your Mazda purring in response. Your fingers drummed against the steering wheel, adrenaline already coursing through your veins.

"Born ready," you drawled, a cocky grin spreading across your face. "This baby and I have been itching for a challenge. You sure you can keep up?" The playful taunt in your voice masked the undercurrent of excitement and nerves. This was more than just a race; it was a chance to prove yourself, to feel truly alive. Bakugo chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like the rumble of an approaching storm.

"You think I’m afraid of some little girl in a Miata? You know who I am, right?" He pushed off from his car, swaggering towards you, his every step confident and deliberate.

“Yeah, the self-proclaimed King of Musutafu Pass.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a casual air that belied the determination simmering within. “Let’s see if your throne survives the night.”

Bakugo’s eyes gleamed, a wicked satisfaction flickering across his features. “You talk a big game for someone who barely scraped by against Kirishima. Did you really think that was enough to impress me?”

“That was a warm-up,” you shot back, uncaging a smirk that felt like a flame ignited between you. “Kirishima's a good driver, but he doesn’t have what it takes to match me. Let's see if you're different, huh?"

He glared, fists clenching at his sides. “You’ll regret saying that when I blow past you on the uphill and leave you eating my dust."

"Once we hit the downhill, we'll see who's the one left behind." You leaned forward, eyes narrowing in challenge, thrill dancing on the edge of your words. 

With a scoff, he pushed off of his car and paced toward the starting line, the ground trembling slightly beneath his steps. “Enough talk. Let’s settle this on the track.”

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, a cacophony of voices mingling with the distant thump of bass from nearby cars. You glanced behind you, seeing Momo and Shinso among the gathering of eager spectators, their faces filled with uneasiness. Momo stood with her hands on her hips, while Shinso shrugged, a smirk creeping onto his face.

You focused ahead, your mind a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions. The growing hum of the crowd soon faded, replaced by the rhythmic thump of your heart, each beat a reminder of the weight of expectations pressing down on you. Just you, the road, and your car—a trinity that both comforted and terrified. You took a deep breath, trying to quell the doubt that gnawed at your insides. Visualizing each corner and stretch of asphalt, you saw not just a race course, but a metaphor for your life's journey—full of sharp hairpin turns that tested your resolve and straightaways that begged for the speed you both craved and feared. It all beckoned, promising glory and threatening disaster in equal measure, leaving you torn between the thrill of the challenge and the paralyzing fear of failure.

“You ready?” Bakugo’s voice snapped you back to the moment, his impatient tone cutting through the crowd's roar.

“Let’s do this,” you replied, fire igniting in your chest as the world fell away.

The countdown began, echoing like a gunshot in your mind.

“Three!”

You slid your hands firmly onto the wheel, feeling the familiar texture of the leather grip anchor you.

“Two!"

Your foot hovered above the gas pedal, heart racing at the approach of the finish line. You glanced at Bakugo, his fierce expression promising a fight to the bitter end.

“One!” A deep breath filled your lungs, having just enough time to release before the call of destiny rang out like a thunderclap.

“GO!”

The crowd erupted as you both slammed down on your gas pedals, launching your cars forward like two bullets released from a chamber.

In an instant, the world blurred; the roar of engines and the shouts of the crowd faded into a singular roar in your ears. You felt the familiar rush as you pressed the accelerator down, feeling the force of the engine as your Mazda surged through the shifting landscape. The asphalt stretched out ahead, a ribbon of black winding through the mountains like a serpent ready to strike.

Ding!

The sound came from the dash, the indicator for the RPM climbing ever higher. You shifted into second gear, unleashing the MX-5's power as the car hugged the first curve. You gripped the wheel tighter, feeling the tires bite into the asphalt as you leaned into the turn. 

Bakugo shot ahead of you, his RX-7 cutting through the mountains like a bullet. The spin of his tires kicked up gravel, shooting it back like cannon fire. You gritted your teeth, not letting his head start intimidate you. As the road twisted into a series of sharp corners, you remembered Shota's words: "Control the car, don’t let it control you."

You downshifted, your Mazda responding with an eager growl, ready for the challenge. With the tires gripping the asphalt, you navigated the second turn, feeling the familiar kiss of the tires against the road. You focused on the apex, keeping your vision sharp and your instincts honed. The world outside the windshield swirled into a blur of green and gray, but within your car, everything felt clear, controlled.

Ding!

Bakugo’s car pitched into the next corner, the RX-7's rear tires skidding slightly as he deftly maneuvered around the curve. The thrill of speed blended with the rush of adrenaline, and you continued to press on, determined to keep him within reach. Each turn presented its own set of challenges, but you wove through them with practiced grace, a silent dance with the mountain that felt as natural as breathing. The sky darkened, and the headlights cast beams of illumination that sliced through the gloom, illuminating the lane ahead.

As you surged into the next straightaway, you caught a glimpse of Bakugo ahead, the orange glow of his taillights flickering like a beacon of challenge. You pressed harder on the accelerator, feeling the rush of speed as you closed the distance between you. The roar of your engine matched the pounding in your chest—the thrill both intoxicating and consuming. Yet, the uphill loomed ahead, and in that moment, you knew focus was paramount . Your heart raced, echoing the rhythm of the winding road, and you dug deep, drawing on the lessons Shota drilled into you during those relentless training sessions.

"Stay steady... keep your focus," you muttered under your breath, as Bakugo’s car continued to pull ahead on the incline. Your heart pounded in your chest, racing alongside the revving engine of the Mazda. The incline steepened; the road tightened its grip around the mountainside, each twist demanding unwavering control. You felt the pressure of Bakugo’s looming lead—a smirk had settled on his face as he glanced back at you, his confidence radiating like heat waves. The taunting glimmer in his eyes only fueled the fire within you.

“Not so cocky now, are ya?” Bakugo shot you a challenging glance, his face twisted into a smirk that dared you to concede. You watched as he slowly created more distance between the two of you , the gap widening under the weight of your racing hearts.

Internal thoughts clashed within you, a battle of self-doubt and raw determination. Was this it? Had the thrill of victory against Kirishima been nothing more than a fluke? No. You refused to admit defeat. The mountain whispered its secrets, and you were determined to unlock them.

With a skin-tight grip on the wheel, you recalled the advice from your uncle that pulled you back from the brink of doubt. "Be a ghost on the road," he'd once said, his voice echoing in your mind. "Let the car vanish into the wind."

As you focused on his words , a sense of calm washed over you, grounding your racing heart. You summoned every ounce of skill and confidence accumulated from countless hours on the road. The world around you faded, leaving only the climb and the rhythmic roar of the engine.

You angled your car as you approached the final steep ascent, each muscle in your body tensed with resolve. The RX-7’s taillights had disappeared, starting the downhill with a huge lead. You bit down hard on your lower lip, a wellspring of determination bubbling up inside. There wasn’t time to second-guess your capabilities. You unleashed the full power of your engine, feeling the Mazda respond, a wild spirit finally tapped. With every bump and rise in the pavement, awareness sharp as a blade, you maneuvered with unwavering precision, carving through every corner.

"That's what I thought," Bakugo snarled, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he watched your headlights fade into the inky darkness behind him. The thrill of victory coursed through his veins, his heart pounding with savage satisfaction as he left you in his dust.

Now it was your turn to shine. As you approached the cusp of the downhill, the world shifted into sharp focus. Your heartbeat synced with the pulsating roar of your engine, the rush surging through your veins like a current. The taillights of Bakugo's RX-7 glowed dimly in the distance, but they flickered with a melting glow that seemed to beckon you forward.

You had to come up with a way to catch up, at this rate you were going to lose. As you crested the uphill and began the exhilarating descent, the air shifted. The corners came alive, and so did you. Shadows danced in the light of your headlights, drawing you into the rhythm of the road.

Ding!

Just then, a distant memory invaded your thoughts. The echo of Shota’s voice replayed in your mind, each word igniting a spark of clarity. “Use the curves, Y/N. Let the road guide you. Slip into it like water to a riverbed."

With renewed focus, you positioned your car for the first downhill turn, envisioning yourself as fluid, confident. The first corner beckoned like an invitation, its curves promising freedom. You turned the wheel, steering into the arch, grateful for the years of practice smoothing your technique until it felt almost instinctual.

Giving the steering wheel an extra push, you felt your tire fall off of the asphault. Your tires grabbed onto the edge, keeping you tight on the inside. The momentum of this change caused you to fly around the curve like a bullet. The centrifugal force pressed you into the seat as you navigated the turn, the sharp edge of the asphalt kissing your tires. The thrill surged through you like electricity as you whipped around the curve, the car responding beautifully to your movements with a satisfying hum. You felt invincible. With every corner you mastered, your confidence grew. You pulled the steering wheel back, transitioning smoothly into the next curve, as the shrill sound of Bakugo’s engine became more clear with each graceful bend. He took the downhill with brute force, but you wielded finesse.

The jagged outline of Bakugo's taillights grew closer, flickering like a candle desperately trying to stay alight in a storm. The exhilarating rush of adrenaline surged through your veins, fueling your determination as you mirrored his movements, but with precision and finesse.

As you maneuvered through the next curve, the RX-7's taillights pulsed and danced, a rhythmic challenge that mocked your efforts. You knew the downhill was coming to an end, with only the consecutive hairpins standing in your way of the finish line. You had caught up with Bakugo, the nose of your car trailing behind him closely. 

Bakugou's eyes widened in disbelief as he caught sight of your sleek, cherry-red Miata in his rearview mirror. The compact sports car roared up behind him, its polished chrome gleaming in the moonlight, closing the distance at an alarming rate. 

"What the fuck?" he spat, his voice a mixture of panic and incredulity, as the Miata's aggressive approach sent a shiver down his spine. Your heart raced as you rounded another hairpin, the world outside the windshield blurring into a haze of darkness and light. Bakugo’s car was mere feet ahead, and his agitated body language seeped into his driving. With each attempt you made to pass him, he would agressively whip his car in front of you. 

You flicked the steering wheel, adjusting your trajectory as Bakugo cut you off once more, a furious scowl set on his face. This race had turned into a brutal game of cat and mouse as you both danced on the edge of speed and control. 

“Why won’t you just stay behind?” Bakugo shouted, his voice laced with frustration as he threw his car into the next turn, the tires squealing under the pressure of his aggressive maneuver. 

"C'mon girl. Just a little faster!" You spoke to your car, the familiar warmth of confidence filling your chest. You hugged the next turn tighter, anticipating Bakugo's movements with a precision born from countless hours of practice. The taillights of his RX-7 sliced through the darkness, two angry embers flickering against the black canvas of the mountain. As he veered left, you did the same, but with a different intent—where he sought to block your path, you focused on slipping past him like a shadow. The hairpin loomed ahead, a perfect potential for an inside maneuver. 

"Why so tense, Bakugo?" you challenged, your voice cutting through the rush of wind and engine roar. 

Bakugo scowled, muscles taut as he gripped the steering wheel, his focus ignited by your taunting maneuvers behind him. He slammed the accelerator, the RX-7 lurching forward as he attempted to shake you off his tail , the engine roaring defiantly against the night air. The RX-7 surged ahead, but you refused to yield. 

With every ounce of skill coursing through your veins, you steadied your grip, eyes locking onto the line ahead. As the final corner loomed, the road opened up, urging you onward with an inviting space that felt like a portal leading to victory. Your heart thundered against your chest as you braced for the last corner, the final opportunity to seize the lead. The air around you thickened with tension, but the mesmerizing pull of the asphalt felt like a siren's call, urging you to bend the rules of physics itself.

You inched closer to Bakugo, his aggressive demeanor only spurring you on. “You think you can keep me in your shadow?” 

He shot you a fierce glare, the intensity of his focus unwavering as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’ll eat you alive, Rookie! Just watch me.”

The final turn loomed ahead, a sharp left that would determine everything. You couldn’t allow yourself to falter now, couldn’t give Bakugo the satisfaction of knowing he intimidated you . You pushed the accelerator to the metal, feeling the shudder of the engine beneath you. The sound of the roaring RX-7 faded into the background, overtaken by the surge of adrenaline course through your veins. The final turn loomed, your wheels screaming in protest. 

Ding!

You remembered Shota's words:

"Be a ghost on the road." 

In that fleeting moment, clarity washed over you, as if the world had zoomed in on just one spot—the curve that would decide your fate. You were not merely a driver; you were a master of the elements hurtling toward you. You shifted your weight, lowered your profile, and with a final burst of determination, you flicked off the headlights, plunging into darkness as you approached the tight corner. The silhouette of Bakugo's RX-7 loomed just ahead, illuminated solely by the faint glow of its taillights, a beacon guiding you forward in a world of shadows. 

You were invisible.

Bakugo lifted his gaze, curious about how you had navigated that challenging turn. Only darkness greeted him in the rearview mirror. Scanning each reflection, he found no trace of your pursuing vehicle.

Huh, must've lost her. Hmph. A slight chuckle escaped Bakugo’s lips, laced with the heady thrill of victory brewing in his chest. He leaned back in his seat, confidence swelling. 

Suddenly, the slightest flicker of movement caught his eye. A shadow darted past him, an apparition gliding through the corner where his headlights failed to reach. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. 

“Shit!” Bakugo hissed, a wave of disbelief crashing over him as you whispered past his side, the Miata's sleek frame barely breaking the plane of vision. Your headlights popped back up, illuminating the road ahead just as you surged into the lead. The momentum from your turn sent a shockwave of adrenaline coursing through your veins, propelling you forward with a reckless abandon. The moment the headlights flickered back to life, you felt the exhilaration seep into every fiber of your being. You’d done it—you gained the lead. As you rocketed down the final stretch, you could see a large group of people waiting. 

Panic rose in Bakugo's chest, watching as your small car lurched in front of his. He didn't let this drive away his aggression, instead letting it fuel him. 

"Get back here!" he howled, slamming down on the gas as he bore down on the compact frame of your Mazda. The RX-7’s engine roared with newfound ferocity, the sound slicing through the night like a serrated knife. He was determined to reclaim his lead, to show you that your moment of triumph was nothing but a fleeting apparition.

The RX-7’s roar grew louder, drowning out the sound of your own heartbeat as Bakugo launched his car forward in a desperate attempt to overtake you. You couldn’t look back now; the streak of headlights behind you pulsed like a heartbeat, an ominous reminder that he was right on your tail. Every nerve in your body tingled with focus, laser-like as you navigated the final stretch of road, feeling the ready adrenaline surge through you. The double yellow lines blurred by in a frantic rush, a reminder of the stakes that sat heavy on your shoulders. 

“C’mon! Almost there!” you muttered, pushing the Mazda to its limits as the finish line loomed ahead, the crowds of people rushing out of the way when neither you nor Bakugo were slowing down. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, faces twisting in shock as your Mazda surged forward, leaving a trail of burning rubber in your wake. 

You crossed over the imaginary line. A split second later, Bakugo’s RX-7 thundered across the line just behind you, barely a heartbeat behind, his frustrated roar echoing through the mountain pass like a thunderclap. 

You fucking did it, Y/N. 

The moment you crossed that imaginary line, a wash of exhilaration flooded through you, an electric current igniting your every nerve ending. You fought to contain your grin, knowing that behind you lay a pissed-off Katsuki Bakugo, his frustration palpable even from the distance that separated you. You drove ahead, whipping the car around to face the direction of your competitor. He was climbing out of his car, eyes lit like a roaring inferno. 

“I can’t believe she pulled that shit on me!” Bakugo shouted, storming towards you with tension crackling in the air like static electricity. Without waiting on him to catch up, you lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl into the night. He approached quickly, and you couldn't help the shit eating grin that spread across your face, the thrill of victory still coursing through your veins. You put the car into first, letting the engine sputter with playful defiance, almost as if it shared your smug satisfaction. You could feel the victorious energy pulsing in your bones as Bakugo halted just in front of your Mazda's path, trying to keep you from leaving the Pass.

You didn't want to bother with the temper tantrum that was incoming. “You little—” Bakugo thrust an accusatory finger toward you, the flames of anger flickering dangerously in his eyes. “You think you can just—”

You leaned back against your seat, taking a long drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl into the night air. 

"—cheat your way to a win?" He took a step closer, nostrils flaring in indignation as he glared down at you, his expression as blazing as ever.

“Cheating?” You laughed lightly, inhaling the smoke before letting it drift lazily from your lips. “You must not have watched closely enough.” You leaned casually against the interior of your Mazda, exuding a confidence that belied the adrenaline still thrumming in your veins. The crowd gathered behind you, buzzing with energy, their excitement crackling as they awaited the aftermath of your fierce showdown. 

Bakugo's eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could practically see the tension radiating off of him like heat from an unforgiving flame. 

"What's wrong, Bakugo? Didn't expect a Miata to give your precious RX-7 a run for its money?" Your voice dripped with playful arrogance, the adrenaline still buzzing wildly in your veins as you leaned back in your seat, watching him struggle to contain his rage and disbelief. Bakugo's jaw worked silently, clenched muscles taut with frustration. “You know that wasn’t racing! You just—”

“I just what?” you interrupted, feigning innocence as you exhal ed a cloud of smoke toward him, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “Used the tricks I’ve learned from the best. Isn’t that what racing is all about, Bakugo ?” He scowled, the heat of his anger bubbling beneath a facade of cool confidence. 

"Fuck you. I want a rematch. No tricky shit." You chuckled, the sound mocking in the cool night air. 

“Oh, so now you want to make the rules? How convenient.” You leaned forward, looking him straight in the eyes, the taunting gleam in your gaze unyielding as you locked onto his fiery stare. 

“Quit whining and admit it, you lost fair and square,” you shot back, letting the smoke filter between your lips like a swirling ghost of rebellion, taunting his frustration further. The crowd behind you murmured in approval, the thick tension weaving through the air like a live wire.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have other shit to do. Plus my feet are fucking killing me." Your nonchalance only fanned the flames of Bakugo's fury. He stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides as if he could physically restrain the words not yet spoken.

“Don't think you can just walk away after that. You’re on my turf now, and I want a rematch. Right here, right now,” Bakugo demanded, his voice a low growl that echoed through the silence. 

You rolled your eyes dramatically, your foot pressing down on the accelerator. The engine roared to life, matching the intensity in your chest. Turning to Bakugo, you gave him a mischievous wink and pulled the cigarette from your lips, smoke curling around your words.

"Goodnight, Bakugo," you purred, your voice a mix of amusement and challenge. 

With that, you were off, tires screeching against the pavement. The world became a blur as you sped through the streets, the crowds on either side erupting into wild cheers as you passed. Their excitement fueled your own, a grin spreading across your face as you embraced the thrill of the moment and the open road ahead.

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The next morning greeted you with a sharp chill that hung in the air, almost as if the mountains were still buzzing with the lingering energy of last night's race. You rolled out of bed, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the window, illuminating your room with a warm embrace that contrasted sharply with the coolness outside. You made your way to the kitchen, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee beckoning you like a siren’s call. Momo stood by the counter, her back turned as she stirred a steaming mug, the faint clattering of ceramic echoing softly in the quiet kitchen.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she chimed, glancing over her shoulder with a bright smile. "You were quite the spectacle last night." You smirked, pouring a cup of coffee with a practiced ease that felt almost instinctive. The rich, dark liquid swirled within the mug, releasing its inviting aroma. 

“Spectacle or troublemaker?” you replied, taking a long sip from the steaming cup, the warmth spreading through you like magic. A hint of playful mischief danced in your gaze as you leaned against the counter. 

The race last night had you riding on a high. Momo raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a teasing smile.

“A bit of both, I’d say. Did you see Bakugo’s face? I've never seen anyone look so... enraged."You laughed, recalling the fiery glare Bakugo had thrown your way as you sped off into the night. 

“You know, I didn’t think you had that in you," Momo leaned against the counter, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she watched you with a mix of admiration and concern. “You really surprised everyone last night.”

You shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“Just doing what I had to do,” you replied, your heart still humming with the excitement from the previous night. Momo set her mug down, crossing her arms with a knowing look.

“It was more than that, Y/N. You took on Bakugo. He’s not just any racer; he’s a legend around here. You’ve stirred up the whole community, whether you realize it or not. People are talking, and you’re suddenly the talk of the town.” 

You smirked, taking another sip of coffee, the warmth igniting your confidence even more.

“Let them talk,” you replied, leaning back against the counter with casual defiance. “I’m not here to please anyone but myself. This is my path, and I’m just getting started.”

Momo tilted her head, amusement playing on her lips. "And where does that path lead? Right into Bakugo’s fiery glare? Because he sure doesn’t take losing lightly.”

Your smile faded, the reality of last night settling into your bones. “I know,” you admitted, glancing down at your coffee as if the warm liquid could ground you. 

Momo laughed, her warm eyes gleaming with delight. “It was like watching a lion try to catch a clever little fox,” she continued, crossing her arms as if the mere thought gave her glee. You chuckled, imagining the scene as you took another sip of your coffee. 

"More like a lion with anger management issues," you replied, shaking your head. You snorted, stirring the coffee for a moment before taking a sip, letting the bold flavor dance on your tongue. “But still, you’ve got to admit, he puts on quite a show.”

Momo’s laughter rang out, brightening the morning gloom. “He does, and I’m sure he’ll be looking for a rematch sooner rather than later.” Her expression turned serious, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Just be careful, Y/N. He’s fierce, and he doesn’t like losing.”

“Trust me , I know.” You took another sip of your coffee, letting the heat seep into your bones as you glanced out the window, watching the first rays of sunlight spill over the mountain. “But I’m not backing down. This is my race now.”

Despite the lightheartedness of your exchange, a knot of excitement twisted within you. You knew the real challenge awaited you—the rivalry with Bakugo was far from over. Your mind danced with the possibilities of what could unfold in the coming days—a relentless pursuit of victory, each encounter bound to sting just a little more, and push you further into the heart of the racing world. 

“You’ve always been good at staying level-headed,” Momo continued, her voice gentle yet firm. “But this is different. Bakugo won’t just challenge your skills; he’ll attack your confidence.”

You took another sip of coffee, appreciating the bold flavor that settled deep in your chest, steeling your resolve against her words. 

“I appreciate the concern,” you replied, placing the cup down on the counter with a determined clink. "But worry isn't going to help me win races. I’ve fought through worse. I can handle him.”

And with that sentence, the absent dark thoughts came crawling back to the forefront of your mind. They hadn't pestered your mind since before the races last night, but now they were clawing their way back, relentless and suffocating. Deep down, the memories of your past threatened to bubble up, a tide of grief and loss barely contained beneath the surface of your resolve. You could feel it, just waiting for that moment of weakness, hoping to pull you under. 

You inhaled sharply, forcing the memories to recede, but Momo’s watchful gaze caught the slight tremor in your hand as you placed your coffee mug down. The comforting warmth of the ceramic cup turned heavy, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on your chest like a stone. Momo's eyes softened, her expression shifting as if she could sense the shadows creeping in. 

"You sure you’re alright?" she asked gently, her tone laced with concern. You locked eyes with her and gave a nonchalant shrug. 

"Yes mom. But I think I'm gonna go for a drive." It was the only solution for driving away the thoughts. Momo studied you for a moment, concern flickering across her features, but she nodded slowly as if understanding the weight you needed to shed. 

“Just don’t push yourself too hard today. And if you run into Bakugo again...”

“I’ll keep my distance,” you promised, waving a dismissive hand. But deep down, you both knew that wouldn’t happen. The tension between you and Bakugo felt electric, as if the universe itself demanded a collision of the two forces. A part of you craved the thrill—not just the speed, but the challenge he posed. 

Momo watched you with a knowing smile, your determination radiating off you like an aura. “Alright, just... be careful. And call me if things get out of hand,” she said, her concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I will." You pushed away from the counter and strolled toward the your bedroom to get changed. Once you found suitable clothes, you made your way out. You made sure to layer up, the autumn chill biting at exposed skin as you pulled on a black leather jacket over your fitted long-sleeve shirt. With high-waisted cargo pants hugging your legs, you felt a renewed sense of confidence rise within you.

You decided to take it slow up the mountain this morning, watching as the leaves danced around you in shades of crimson and gold, rustling gently in the wind like whispers of encouragement. With each curve of the mountain pass, you let the serenity of the morning sink into your bones, each bend inviting you to embrace the thrill of the road. The Mazda purred beneath you, a soft hum that melded seamlessly with the harmony of nature. 

As you passed a small lot, your gaze was drawn to a parked car. Unexpectedly, you found yourself locking eyes with a pair of furious vermillion orbs. There, leaning against his RX-7 with arms crossed over his broad chest, stood Bakugo, radiating anger.

The moment your eyes met, a thick tension crackled in the air between you, a charged atmosphere woven from rivalry and adrenaline. Bakugo pushed himself off the car, a predatory smile creeping across his lips, sharp and dangerous.

You immediately amped it up, not having the energy to deal with him so soon. You slammed the gas pedal, the purr of your Mazda morphing into a defiant roar as you prepared to leave him in the dust. 

You darted away excitedly, enticing Bakugo to chase after you like a predator stalking its prey. His car roared to life, screeching as his pulled out of the lot. 

Has he been waiting on you? What the fuck??

It didn't take long for Bakugo to catch up as you sped along the winding mountain road. The rev of his RX-7 echoed like a thunderclap behind you, each roar igniting the thrill deep within your chest. You navigated the uphill as best you could, but he was undeniably better and more suited to take it on. The incline steepened, and you pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine's growl matching the intensity simmering beneath your skin. Reds, browns, and greens blurred together like a rushing watercolor, but it wasn't enough to distract you from the impending doom of Bakugo's furious pace. 

Pulling up next to you, he rolled his window down. He had a mischievous look on his face, pointing to the side of the road. 

"Pull over," Bakugo shouted over the roar of the engines, his voice cutting through the wind like a blade. 

You shot him a glare, your fingers tightening around the wheel. 

“Not a chance,” you shouted back, adrenaline fueling your defiance. You leaned into the next curve, your car hugging the asphalt tightly as you pushed the Mazda to its limits. Bakugo wasn’t going to give up so easily. He surged ahead, pulling in front of you just enough to cut off your path. He twisted his car to come to a hard stop, leaving you no choice but to decelerate. You slammed your brakes, the tires screeching in protest as you managed to bring the Mazda to a halt mere inches from his rear bumper. The moment your car came to a stop, you glared at Bakugo, heart racing, chest heaving as you fought to contain

You ripped your car door open, stepping out and giving him a glare.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Your eyes met his, and the fury in them burned as fiercely as the colors of the setting sun around you. 

Bakugo smirked, leaning back against his car with a casual confidence that only fueled your indignation. 

"You haven't seen half of the crazy I got in me." His smug grin widened, a flash of teeth that dared you to challenge him further. 

“Is that supposed to intimidate me?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just playing games, Bakugo. I've got better things to do than chase after you.” 

His eyes narrowed, and the smirk transformed into a scowl. “Playing games? You think I ’m here to play? I want a rematch, and I want it now.” His voice was low and intense, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but couldn't suppress a slight smirk. "So just because you lost one race, you think you can force me into another? Cute."

Bakugo’s expression morphed into a blend of anger and determination, his lips curling into a fierce snarl. “You think this is a joke, Y/N? I don’t lose to anyone, especially not some rookie in a piece of junk." 

"Is that so?" You tilted your head, a challenge glimmering in your eyes. "Maybe you just weren’t prepared for an actual race, Bakugo. You might want to watch your mouth next time." Bakugo's expression darkened, his fists clenching at his sides, but you could see the flicker of respect beneath the anger—the undeniable recognition of your growing prowess. 

"You really think you can just brush me off like that?" His gaze bore into you, fierce and unwavering. “You think this is over?” 

You studied him, the tension crackling in the air between you like a live wire, pulsing with anticipation. 

“Look, it wasn’t just luck that got me through last night,” you shot back, your heart racing with both defiance and resolve. “ I’ve put in the work, and if you think I’m going to let you waltz in here and intimidate me, you've got another thing coming.”

Bakugo's eyes glinted with intensity, a smoldering fire that challenged you to rise to his level. “Is that right? Then show me. Prove it wasn’t just some one-time fluke.”

Without breaking your composure, you took a step closer, the crisp mountain air thick with tension. The words hung in the silence, a dare wrapped in defiance.

"Alright, you want to race?" Bakugo’s smirk returned, sharp and predatory as he stepped forward, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight that spilled over the mountains. 

"Thought you'd never ask." 

He slid back into his RX-7 with a confident flourish, the door slamming shut as he revved the engine, the low growl echoing ominously off the mountainside. 

"You ready to lose?" Bakugo taunted. You chuckled, the sound laced with a fearless challenge as you slid back into your Mazda. 

“You really think you can take me down twice?” Your fingers danced across the steering wheel, excitement coursing through your veins like wildfire. 

"Just watch me," Bakugo fired back, the growl of his RX-7 revving in protest. The tension in the air hung thick, a taut string waiting for that one decisive cut.

You shifted your gear into position, feeling the familiar hum of your Mazda beneath you. Bakugo counted down, intensity etched into his features.

“Three! Two! One! GO!” 

His RX-7 shot forward, not realizing that you hadn't moved. Quickly as he tore ahead, you smirked, letting him believe he held the lead. As the roar of the RX-7 faded into the background, you revved your engine, a low growl as you whipped your car around and took off in the opposite direction. The sound of your Mazda’s engine echoed off the mountains, a triumphant roar that blended with the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind. Bakugo’s confident smirk faltered slightly as he realized his mistake. He whipped his head around, eyes wide with disbelief as he registered your sudden maneuver. “You think you can just—”

Before he could finish, you floored the pedal, your car surging forward with a ferocity that sent the adrenaline racing through your veins. The Mazda MX-5 responded instantly, the engine’s roars echoing against the mountainsides, as you forced the gears through the sweet spot, the engine screaming as you carved your own path through the winding road. 

Bakugo’s RX-7 thundered to life behind you, but you had already embraced the thrill of the chase. 

Behind you, Bakugo was feeling the same. An excited growl ripped through his chest. The RX-7’s engine snarled as he pushed the gas pedal, determined to reclaim control. He surged forward, tires squealing as he barreled around the corner, his car following closely behind like a predator in hot pursuit. 

He pursued you down the mountainside, finally catching up as you reached the bottom. Both of you parked your vehicles, and he strode towards you.

“Did you really think you could just trick me like that?” Bakugo barked, irritation etched into his features as he closed the distance, his glinting eyes narrowed into slits of fury. “Why are you treating this like a game?”

You lit up a cigarette, taking your time with responding. You leaned against the cool metal of your Mazda, the haze of cigarette smoke swirling around you like a shield against his ire. Taking a slow drag, you let the tension build, enjoying the furious gl are of his eyes as you exhaled a plume of smoke into the air, feeling the burn of the nicotine rush through your veins alongside the high of the chase.

“Game? No,” you said, leveling your gaze at him as the smoke curled and vanished into the cool air. “This isn’t a game, Bakugo. It’s a challenge.” 

His nostrils flared with indignation, the fire in his eyes intensifying. “You think you can outsmart me just by playing dirty? You won’t get away with that trash.”

You took another drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing fiercely against the darkening sky. 

“Outsmart you? No, I just knew you'd underestimate me. That’s your problem, Bakugo. You always think you can bulldoze your way to victory, while I prefer to slip through the cracks." 

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He stepped closer, his presence towering over you, his fierce intensity palpable. 

“You think because you pulled that stunt, you’ve won something special? You can’t rely on tricks forever, Rookie.”

You inhaled sharply, staring him down, the challenge hanging thick in the air between you like a thundercloud ready to burst. 

“Maybe not,” you replied, your tone steady, the smoke curling away from your lips as you held his gaze, unyielding under the weight of his intensity. “But relying on pure skill isn’t the only way to win. It’s about knowing your opponent, playing to their weaknesses.”

You were starting to sound more and more like your uncle. Bakugo’s intensity flickered for a brief moment, the fire in his eyes wavering as he processed your words. A flicker of respect gleamed behind that ever-present irritation; you recognized it as a testament to your growing prowess in this cutthroat world of racing.

For a heartbeat, the tension hung between you, a delicate balance of fierce rivalry and unexpected respect. Bakugo's eyes narrowed, his expression fluctuating between indignation and a grudging recognition of your skill. He stepped back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you, the intensity of his gaze piercing.

You both paused as you heard an interesting sounding engine approaching. The throaty growl of another car echoed around the bend, slicing through the charged atmosphere hanging between you and Bakugo. You both turned, instinctively shifting your focus from one another to the approaching vehicle. The sound of tires crunching against gravel filled the air, heralding the arrival of another competitor. As the sleek silhouette of the car came into view, you recognized the unmistakable profile of a modified Nissan Skyline GTR, its metallic black paint glimmering under the fading sun. The engine roared as it approached, and you could hear the turbo spooling up. The driver, a tall figure dressed in a black racing jacket with a striking logo emblazoned across the back, eased the Nissan to a stop beside you and Bakugo. He swung the door open, stepping out with an air of confidence that radiated from him like an aura. Dark sunglasses perched on his nose, his hair tousled and rebellious as he surveyed the scene. 

“Did I miss the party ?” he called, a lazy smirk spreading across his face as he casually leaned against his car. His voice was booming around you. The sunglasses masked his eyes, but you could sense the energy radiating from him, a charged drawl that suggested he thrived on the excitement of competition. 

“Just an impromptu showdown,” you shot back, chuckling as you waved the smoke from your cigarette into the air, watching as it mingled with the crisp mountain breeze. 

Bakugo scowled, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer. 

“Great, just what I need: another clown to distract me from what actually matters,” he retorted, his voice dripping with irritation as he crossed his arms tighter over his chest, muscles tense with barely contained frustration.

The newcomer chuckled, not fazed by Bakugo's hostility. 

“Well, it looks like I stumbled into a territory dispute.” He pushed his sunglasses up, revealing a pair of sharp, beaty eyes that sparkled with mischief.

"Hope I didn't ruin your little rendezvous, but a rumor swirling around has kind of piqued my interest," he continued, tilting his head with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Rumor?” Bakugo growled, irritation still clinging to his voice as he glanced between you and the new arrival with a level of contempt that could only be likened to a smoldering fire.

"Yeah, the one that says that you, Bakugo, were beat by a newbie in a Miata," the newcomer laughed, tilting his head back as if the very notion of a 'newbie' outpacing Bakugo was the most amusing thing he'd heard all week.

Bakugo's scowl deepened, his fists clenched at his sides, barely containing the anger that surged beneath the surface. 

“Who the hell are you?” he spat, eyes blazing. 

“Name’s Inasa Yoarashi. Leader of the Shiketsu Suns.” He leaned back against his Nissan, a relaxed grin spreading across his face as if he hadn’t just provoked a shark. Bakugo glared at Inasa, his irritation palpable, as if he were trying to will the other racer into submission with sheer force. 

“Great, another hotshot,” Bakugo muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. The tension thickened, a palpable current curling around the three of you like a tempest, each characteristic pulled taut by pride and the fiery competition that bound you in this silent standoff.

Inasa chuckled, unabashed by Bakugo's hostility.

"Aren't you just a ball of sunshine?" He shot a playful grin your way and nodded his head towards your car. “I'm gonna take a very educated guess and say you're the newbie, huh?" 

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching up in bemusement. 

“Is that supposed to be an insult? I’m pretty sure I just outpaced the self-proclaimed King of Musutafu Pass,” you replied, crossing your arms with a grin that challenged his playful tease.

Inasa’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. 

“Looks like I’m in good company, then. You’ve certainly stirred things up, haven’t you?” Inasa said, his tone casual, like they were discussing the weather rather than racing egos. “You don’t mind if I take a good look at your driving skills, do you?”

You raised an eyebrow, the sudden challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within you. “You want to race me? Here and now?”

In Inasa’s grin widened, enthusiasm radiating off him like a beacon. "Yes, but unfortunately not today, I only had enough time to come to check out the competition. My crew's got a race coming up, and I was curious if you’d be interested in challenging a couple of us,” he offered casually, shooting a glance at Bakugo. “You know, if you’re brave enough to take on a real team.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed further, his jaw tightening at Inasa’s words.

“What makes them real? Their flashy shirts and tricked -out cars?” Bakugo scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. The corner of Inasa's mouth quirked up, unbothered by the jibe. 

“Flashy colors and big mouths will only take you so far, but at the end of the day, it's skill behind the wheel that truly counts,” he shot back, unwavering as he leaned casually against his Nissan , the sleek car gleaming under the fading sunlight. The tension thickened as Bakugo opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted, sensing an opportunity to escalate the rivalry in the air. 

“Why don’t we settle this then?” You stepped forward, a determined glint in your eye as you looked between Bakugo and Inasa. “If you think your crew’s got what it takes, let’s race them. Two against two, just like the last time." 

Inasa’s grin widened, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he nodded, unfazed by the intensity brewing around you . 

“Sounds like a plan!” Inasa replied, his voice laced with excitement. He stepped away from his Nissan, extending a hand toward you with an infectious grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

You eyed his outstretched hand for a brief moment, weighing the challenge and the consequences. You could feel Bakugo’s searing gaze boring into you, a silent demand for dominance beneath the surface. Ignoring the tension simmering in the air, you clasped Inasa’s hand, the gesture sending a thrill of excitement through you.

“Let’s do this,” you declared, releasing his grip and stepping back, heart racing with the prospect of a new challenge. Bakugo’s fiery gaze smoldered beside you, the tension between the three of you still palpable as if the air itself pulsed with anticipation. Inasa's easy smile contrasted starkly with Bakugo’s barely contained frustration, the temperature dropping several degrees in the wake of silent competition.

"How about this Saturday? We’ll set up here, on Musutafu Pass," Inasa suggested, his demeanor unyieldingly confident as he turned his head slightly, gauging your response to the proposition. 

“Saturday it is,” you replied, adrenaline surging within you at the thought of a race against Inasa and his crew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be a turning point. This wasn't just about racing anymore; it was about proving who you were in this cutthroat world. Thrilling anticipation bubbled within your chest, igniting a fire that propelled you forward. Bakugo stood beside you, his tension palpable as if he were a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment.

Inasa's grin widened further, his enthusiasm infectious.

"I expect to see you there as well, former King Bakugo." His teasing tone cut through the tension, the words ringing like church bells in an empty square. Bakugo’s expression twisted, a storm brewing behind his fiery eyes. 

“Cut the games, Inasa,” Bakugo snapped, his jaw tense, frustration spilling over in a rush. 

Inasa held his hands up in mock surrender, his smirk refusing to waver under Bakugo’s fiery glare. 

“Hey, just here to have some fun. Racing is all about pushing the limits, after all, right?” He chuckled, looking between you and Bakugo, seemingly unfazed by the brewing storm. 

"Well it's been lovely, but I really must go now. See the two of you on Saturday!" Inasa turned on his heel with a confident swagger, the corners of his mouth still lifting in that infuriatingly charming smile. He slid into his Nissan, revving the engine as he glanced over at you and Bakugo one last time. 

"Don't keep me waiting!" With that, Inasa pulled away, the roar of his Nissan echoing down the mountainside like thunder, leaving you and Bakugo standing on the asphalt, tension thick enough to slice. The sound of the Nissan faded into the distance, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. 

Bakugo’s expression morphed into a scowl as the silence settled between you two, heavy with unmet expectations and unspoken challenges. He pivoted to face you, annoyance radiating off him like heat waves rising from scorched asphalt. Your heart raced as you met his eyes, the air thick with unresolved tension.

"Nice going, Rookie," he snapped, stepping closer. "You think you can just run around proving yourself against anyone that walks in? You’re gonna get buried under all the hype.” His voice dripped with irritation, and you could see the frustration simmering in his eyes, a storm threatening to break loose. 

“Maybe I’ll get buried,” you shot back, your voice steady as you squared your shoulders, refusing to let him intimidate you. “But I’m not backing down. You have no idea how much I’ve worked to get here.” 

Bakugo’s expression hardened, something between annoyance and begrudging respect flashing in his eyes. 

"Tch. Whatever. I'm gone." He turned, fists still clenched, and headed toward his RX-7, the tension in his shoulders radiating like a heatwave. You watched him for a moment, heart racing with a mix of admiration and irritation spiraling within you. There was an undeniable thrill in facing him, a fierce intensity that drew you closer, yet pushed you away all at once. You took a breath, steeling your resolve, feeling the embers from last night reignite within you. 

“Bakugo!” you called after him, the words escaping before you could think them through. He paused, turning to face you, his expression a tense mixture of surprise and annoyance. 

"What?" He crossed his arms, leaning against his RX-7 with an impatient scowl. 

You approached cautiously, adrenaline thumping in rhythm with your heartbeat. The air between you felt charged, electric, as if the very mountains surrounding you buzzed with anticipation. You locked eyes, willing the vulnerability to stay hidden behind the armor of confidence you carefully crafted.

“Just... remember what I said,” you ventured, voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling inside. “This rivalry, it’s only the beginning.”

Bakugo’s expression flickered, something beneath his hardened exterior shifting as he studied you, a flash of consideration sparkling in the depths of his fiery gaze. He narrowed his eyes, the tension momentarily easing as curiosity mixed with bitterness.

Without a word, he got into his rumbling car and took off. You watched as the RX-7 rocketed down the mountain pass, the vibrant glow of its taillights fading into the distance until they vanished altogether. Once it was gone, you had a moment to catch your breath, the sharp chill of the mountain air filling your lungs. The adrenaline began to ebb, leaving behind a lingering exhilaration that left you buzzing.

You exhaled slowly, the events that just transpired playing on repeat in your head. 

Momo is gonna kill you.

[di-in-al]

PARKED with Y/N Aizawa

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Meet Y/N Aizawa's 1991 Mazda MX-5, a pocket-sized dynamo that perfectly marries cuteness with performance. With its iconic pop-up headlights and a cheeky smile, this little roadster has captured hearts since its debut. But don’t let its adorable exterior fool you—when driven by Y/N Aizawa, it transforms into a masterful drifting machine, gliding through corners with grace and precision.

Fun Fact: There are several monikers for the MX-5! The MX-5 models made in Japan are called Eunos Roadsters, and they are right-hand drive. Left-hand drive Miatas are the name given to the MX-5 models in the United States. Y/N drives a Miata with the steering wheel on the left side, which sets her apart from other drivers on Musutafu Pass.

~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~.~~~

>A/N: So I promised artwork for Drifting into Desire, and here it is! I'm wanting to make this a series as well, so I'll be working on the other cars too! I hope it helps with picturing the cars that everyone drives. Anyway, thanks for interacting! di.in.al<3

-art belongs to di.in.al! plz no stealing!

[di-in-al]

~Drifting into Desire~ PART III

>Warnings: Profanity. Smoking.

>Word Count: 8.5k

>Tags 18+ future smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + all characters over age 21 + 1990s themed + no quirks + reader insert

>A/N: Hello hello! This is a chunky chapter, so I hope you enjoy the ride!

>taglist: @simp-plague

part II

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The annoying sound of your phone ringing woke you up. In your sleepiness it was like a siren, piercing your ears. You could tell it was still early, not feeling the suns rays peeking through your window. The digital clock on your nightstand read an absurdly early time. 

4:00 AM. Fuck that.

 It rang seven times, each one getting ignored. Silence filled your room once again, and you could feel your mind slipping back into sleep. 

Not even a full minute passes before its ringing again, causing you to bury your head under your pillow. It only helps slightly, not nearly enough for you to completely block it out. Each ring gets more and more shrill, causing a deep groan to travel to your throat. At this rate, Momo is gonna wake up. Throwing the covers off of your body, it recoils with the cool air of the room. Trudging over to your phone, you yank it off of the wall.

“Can I fucking help you?” Did you mean to sound that angry? No. Did it feel good? Most definitely.

A deep chuckle came from the other side, and it caused your anger to swell. 

“Well good morning sunshine,” The monotone voice of your uncle came from the other end. “You ready for your first day at school? You’re already late by the way.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This early? 

“What the fuck? Do you know what time it is?” Your hand came up to wipe the sleep from your eyes, your mind trying to even come to realize you're on earth. Without a second thought, you hear him reply.

“4:02. Meaning you’re two minutes late as of right now.” You hear the sound of him sipping on something. “You have until I finish this coffee before I leave and this whole thing is off.” 

Panic shoots through you. Knowing your insomniac uncle, he can kill a cup of coffee in less than ten minutes. It takes a minimum of twenty to get to the Pass. 

“I always forget, you’re not much of a talker in the mornings. Consider this your first lesson, kid. I'll be at the top.” 

“Fine,” you snapped, tossing your hair over your shoulders. You threw open your closet, rummaging through clothes until you spotted your favorite racing outfit: a fitted black tank top and high-waisted cargo pants. As you pulled them on, your fingers brushed over the rough fabric, igniting familiar embers of determination. Grabbing the keys from the side table, you sprinted down the stairs, each step echoing your urgency.

You swung open the front door and dashed toward your wine-red Mazda, heart hammering in your chest. The engine roared to life, a familiar growl that pulsed through your veins, igniting adrenaline. You tore out of the parking lot, tires screeching against the asphalt, the scent of gasoline and burnt rubber filling your senses.

It took you two minutes to get ready, that means there’s eight minutes left. You add more weight to the accelerator, listening as your car whines with the added speed. Your gears were maxed out, taking the straight highway helped with cutting a couple extra seconds off. 

A mix of buildings and lights blurred as you flew past them, each street light illuminating your face for a fraction of a second. The off ramp for the mountain pass came up quick, making you downshift swiftly and throw the back end of your car out into a drift. Drifting the complete semi-circle, you downshift one more time, this time to gain some speed. 

Checking your watch, the panic rises again. Four minutes. Fuck!

Your best time coming up the mountain is five minutes and forty seconds. You gotta find a way to shave off a whole minute. You’re usually lucky to beat your own time by maybe ten seconds.

You need this. You couldn’t be able to live down missing an opportunity like this. Your uncle was a stern man, so you knew he wouldn’t offer up any form of a second chance.

The first curve of the mountain pass was coming up, knowing the entirety of the mountain like the back of your hand. You gotta go faster. Slamming on the breaks, you whip the car into the curve making sure to keep on the inside. Slowly, pulsing the accelerator, you swiftly come through the curve while still maintaining your speed. A straightaway meets your eyes, your body slumping with relief. Your hand travels back and forth between the steering wheel and the shifter, the movement so quick you don’t even register it. At this point every aspect of being in this car was muscle memory. 

You and the car become one, tackling the uphill with a ferocity you’ve never experienced. It excited you, the pressure of the entire thing driving you forward. Your eyes shifted to the rearview, noticing a determined yet happy expression filling your face, despite the earliness of the morning.

You had butterflies everytime the inertia of the car would change, your eyes catching your watch as your hands gripped the wheel. One minute. You still had about a quarter of the mountain to climb. 

Don’t focus on the time, focus on the road. Once you’ve conquered the road, time won’t be an issue. Time to amp it up. 

You slam your food down, sending the accelerator to hug the floorboard. The gauge in front of you began climbing, your determination sending it to redline. With each new gear, you maxed out the rpm’s. Each turn brought you one step closer to your goal. You quickly forget about your watch, and your heart burns with the idea of finishing the uphill. Two more hairpin curves and you’d be finished. 

They approached quickly, making your heart clench with the thought of taking each turn. It wasn’t a nervous feeling, but one of a warrior headed into battle. The first turn came, keeping your car close to the inside, your back end flung out into a quick spiral up both curves. 

Coming out of the last turn, you notice a person standing under a streetlight. You recognized the lazy stance of your uncle, and came to a quick stop in front of him. He tossed the last of his coffee back and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He was laid back against his car, an AE-86, which to the normal eye, seems very underwhelming. However, with your uncle behind the wheel, it's a car that has been stopped by few. You noticed he had another coffee in his other hand, and wondered. Either he got no sleep last night and needed extra, or it might be for you.

You prayed it was for you. 

“You made it just in time,” he said, tilting his head, and there was an edge of approval beneath his stern facade. “Record time?” 

You grinned. “Just barely. I think I can shave off a few more seconds next time.”

Shota’s gaze hardened. “Next time won’t matter if you can’t keep your nerve today. Today is the real test," he said, his tone unyielding. "Get in my car."

Your stomach flipped, mixing excitement with dread. You slipped into the passenger seat, feeling the warmth of the leather against your skin, and adjusted your seatbelt with a swift tug. Shota slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a flick of his wrist. Carefully, you watched as he set the steaming cup of coffee into an awaiting cup holder. 

“Let’s see what you can handle,” he said, securing his grip on the steering wheel. A hint of challenge glinted in his eyes, and you felt your pulse quicken as the engine roared to life. Your eyes inspected the cup of coffee, sitting content in its spot. With the harshness of the road, you wondered what your uncle’s plan was. If it spilled, it would send scalding coffee all over your lap.

“Buckle up,” Shota commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

In an instant, the two of you shot forward, the car accelerating with a powerful thrust. As the landscape blurred past, the steering wheel felt like an extension of his will. Shota navigated the road with an unwavering focus, each turn a dance of precision and control. 

You leaned forward, gripping the dash, your eyes wide as the world outside dissolved into streaks of color.

 It felt like you were riding shotgun not just in his car, but also in the masterclass of what it meant to dominate the mountain. Shota navigated the twists and turns with an intimidating grace, his coffee cup remaining steady in the cup holder as you blazed down the path.

“Focus on the road, not me,” he replied, his voice steady as they near a tight corner, the tires screeching just enough to rattle your bones. 

You  narrowed your eyes at the road, willing yourself to let go of the tension coiling in your gut.

“Trust the car and your instincts,” he spoke up, not taking his gaze off the road. “Every ounce of pressure, every pull of the throttle—it’s all about understanding the machine beneath you. Feel its rhythm.” 

You nodded, trying to absorb his words as you approached a sweeping curve. You studied his movements, mimicking the way he shifted his weight, angling his body slightly toward the turn. You felt the adrenaline surge again, a determination igniting in your chest. 

“Do you really think I can get there?” you asked.

“Only if you stop second-guessing yourself,” Shota replied, flicking his eyes toward you for a brief moment. “Your mind is your worst enemy. Focus.”

You tightened your grip on the passenger seat as you transitioned through another sharp turn. 

“You think these roads care about your fear?” his tone was the same as if he stood in front of his students, lazily lecturing them. His entire body was relaxed, but you shifted your eyes back to the pavement. You didn’t want to be caught again. Riding with him was something you haven’t been able to experience since you were young, knowing nothing of the way these whips and turns filled you with burning emotions.

You held your breath as Shota accelerated into the next curve, the G-forces pressing you into the seat. “It’s either drive or be driven,” he added, his intensity vibrant, a spark igniting a fire in your chest.

The tight curve loomed ahead, the edge of the mountain a steep drop, and you felt your heart leap. 

Shota’s grip on the wheel tightened, and you mirrored his intensity. You focused on the line ahead, every instinct shouting at you to brace for the turn. As you approached the apex, every muscle in your body went tense, fear and excitement weaving together. Shota leaned into the turn, expertly guiding the car as it clung to the road. 

“Now!” he shouted, turning sharply into the curve, the tires screeching defiantly against the pavement. You felt the rush, the wild exhilaration of speed and freedom coursing through your veins. You swung into a series of rapid bends, the world outside morphing into nothing but a blur of greens and browns. The coffee tipped towards the paper edge of the cup, inching as if it might spill. But with a quick switch up, it leveled out, sitting contently along with you.

“Keep your eyes on the exit, not the curve!” Shota’s voice broke through your swirling thoughts, a commanding reminder tethering you to the reality of the race. 

He made his way back down the twists and turns of the Pass. He takes you back to your own car and passes off the cup of coffee. You cradled the cup in your hands, feeling the warmth seep through your fingers, grounding you. You looked at Shota, who stood beside you with arms crossed, eyes fixed on you intently, the hint of expectation shifting his expression. 

“Now, let’s see if you can manage this,” he said, the challenge ringing unmistakably in his voice. 

You looked down at the unspilled coffee, wondering how he could've even managed it? You glanced back at Shota, determination flooding your senses as you took a steadying breath. 

“So, you think this is all I have to do?”

“Just get behind the wheel and show what you’ve learned,” Shota replied, his gaze unwavering. “Your goal is simple: drive without spilling a drop. Focus isn’t just for the racing line; it’s for execution.” 

You took a deep breath, balancing the cup in your hand, the steam curling up in the cold mountain air. Your eyes stared at the little coffee cup as if it were a challenge sent from the gods themselves, daring you to rise to the occasion.

“Alright,” You said, your voice now steady with resolve. “Let’s see how this goes.”

You approached your Mazda, slipping into the driver’s seat and adjusting the rear view mirror, steeling yourself for the challenge ahead. Shota remained close, his imposing presence lending you a cautious boost of confidence.

“Keep it tight around the corners and maintain your speed,” he instructed, crossing his arms again, eyes glinting with challenge. “This is about control, not chaos.”

With a nod, you rolled your shoulders back and turned the key in the ignition, the familiar purr of your Mazda filling you with ease. You placed the coffee cup in the cup holder, its gentle warmth spreading through the air like a quiet promise. Taking a deep breath, you shifted into gear and moved forward, the engine humming softly beneath you.

“Don’t forget, the interview is coming up soon. Focus on the drive now, but remember the stakes.” 

You nodded, your grip on the steering wheel tightening as you pulled away from the clearing, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as you eased into motion. 

“Let’s do this,” you muttered under your breath, your heart thumping in sync with the rhythmic pulse of the engine. 

-.-

Everyday, you wake up early and take a trip down the mountain with your uncle. The process was the same every morning, before the sun showed its face you’d pull up to a waiting Aizawa. He’d hand you a coffee and the two of you would take a trip down the mountain. He’d follow you in his car, watching every movement you made. Being behind a driver can tell you a lot about them, this allows you to read your opponent like a book. 

The first day was horrendous, having to stop to clean up coffee from your floorboards after every run. 

Aizawa made sure you bring cleaning supplies on day two, because you definitely needed them again. 

It had been a month of running these roads, and the morning of the interview started like every other. You woke up early and made your way to an awaiting Shota at the top of the mountain. The sun barely crested over the mountain, casting a soft glow across the asphalt ahead. You leaned against your MX-5, your fingers tapping against the cool metal as you watched Shota finish his cup of coffee. 

"Ready to show what you’ve got?" Shota called, tilting his head toward you with a glint of challenge in his eyes.

You square your shoulders, the adrenaline already building.

 "Always," you shot back, sliding into the driver’s seat, your racing outfit hugging you with the familiar sense of purpose.

Shota smirked, walking towards his car. He placed the coffee in its spot by the passenger seat. “Today’s the day you prove everything the lessons have been leading up to. Let’s conquer that final turn.”

You turned the key, the familiar roar of the engine igniting a fire in your veins. 

 “Let’s make it count,” you replied, tightening your grip on the steering wheel.

As you sped off, the mountain loomed around the two of you, the winding road stretching like a challenge laid out in front of you. The fresh scent of pine and the cool bite of the early morning air jolted your senses as you ascended the narrow path. You focused on the road, recalling every piece of advice Shota had etched into your mind. You made it through the majority of the Pass without spilling the coffee, but you knew a certain hairpin curve was coming up. This curve twisted sharply, a notorious spot known for catching even the most skilled drivers off guard.

The curve emerged before you, a steel trap waiting to snap shut. You leaned slightly into the turn, letting your instincts guide you.

The asphalt shifted beneath your tires as you entered the curve, heart hammering in rhythm with the car’s roar. You let off the gas slightly, feeling the weight of the Mazda lean into the turn as the tires gripped the road. The coffee flew to the rim of the cup, tempting to find itself on your floorboard again. 

Not this time. 

With eyes locked on the exit, you remembered Shota's words—focus on the exit, not the entry. Your foot danced over the accelerator, allowing just the right amount of throttle to carry you through.

As you guided the car through the curve, adrenaline surged through your veins, and the world outside melted away. The trees blurred into streaks of green and brown, shadows flickering across the windshield like a haunting memory. For a heartbeat, all that existed was the road beneath your tires and the hum of the engine echoing your resolve.

Taking a peek through the rearview mirror, you noticed the turn was finally behind you. The coffee sat in its spot, completely full. 

Yes!

Finishing out, you and your uncle parked side by side. Taking a peek into your car, Shota took note of the full coffee cup. Shota leaned back, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Nice work,” Shota said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. He shifted in his seat, the remnants of his coffee still swaying gently in its cup. 

“Now for the real test,” he added, his eyes narrowing with consideration. "Your interview."

Your uncle informs you that the interview is at 3 today. He sluggishly gets back into his car mumbling something about getting some sleep. 

"Good luck, Y/N."

“Thanks, Shota,” you replied, your heart still racing. Anxiety and excitement bubbled within you, but for now, you focused on your final training run. 

He settled into the driver's seat of his own car, a familiar creak of worn leather slicing through the morning calm. His car roars to life, and sets off quickly. 

You had another important decision to worry about now. What were you going to wear? All you had back at the apartment was typical everyday clothes, and maybe a dress or two. You sat in your car, the engine still purring softly beneath you, as you wondered about your outfit. The road ahead seemed to mirror your internal turmoil—twisting and turning, the uncertainty reflecting the chaos in your mind. You could always ask Ochako and Momo for some help. You had plenty of time before your interview. 

Making your way back to the apartment, you're met with both people you need sitting on Momo's balcony sharing some tea. You parked your Mazda in a spot, its engine still purring softly as you stepped out. The smell of freshly brewed tea wafted from the balcony, pulling you in like an invisible thread. It was a nice change from the aroma of coffee. 

"Y/N! Come join us!" Ochako's bright voice caught your attention, and you gave a small chuckle.You walked towards the balcony, your nerves bubbling beneath the surface like the water in the kettle on the stove. Momo looked up, her smile warm and inviting. 

"How did the driving session go?” Momo asked, pouring a steaming cup before setting it down beside her.

“Perfect.” You shrugged, though your excitement bubbled in the corner of your eyes. “I managed to keep the coffee in the cup this time.” You bit your lip, a grin breaking through as you recounted the moment. 

"Yay! That's great!" Ochako's rosy cheeks scrunched with excitement. “Even though, I think that’s a very unique driving technique. Oh well! I’m sure it helps. What are your plans for today, Y/N?”

"Actually, I have a favor to ask. I need some clothes for this interview, do you think the two of you could help?" Momo exchanged an excited glance with Ochako, her eyes gleaming. 

“Absolutely! I have just the outfit in mind. We want to make sure you look confident and stylish.”

“Nothing too flashy, right?” you said, half-joking while rubbing your neck. 

“Mmm, being understated isn't really our style,” Ochako teased with a wink, bouncing in her wrought iron seat. You smirked, shaking your head. 

“I’m pretty sure confidence doesn’t mean neon pink and sequins.” 

Momo held up a finger, feigning deep thought. “It might just mean something that shouts ‘I’m here to dominate’ without blinding anyone.” 

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Okay, so what do you suggest? Something more subtle or something that doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard?"

Momo leaned back in her chair, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “How about a fitted blouse to accentuate your figure, paired with some high-waisted trousers? It’ll be sleek but not overly flashy.”

You nodded, your mind racing through the options. “That could work. "

Ochako slung the rest of her tea back, standing up and grabbing your arm. 

"I know just the place!"

Within thirty minutes you found yourself following after your friends, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The streets of Musutafu buzzed with early-morning energy, but your focus settled solely on the mission ahead—finding the perfect outfit. As you entered the small boutique, the door chimed softly, and a wave of warmth enveloped you. The scent of fresh fabric and the delicate notes of perfume tugged at your senses. After some rigorous searching, you found yourself trying on a sleek black blouse that hugged your torso with just the right amount of formality, paired with high-waisted trousers that flared slightly at the bottom, creating an effortless elegance. You twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric flowing around your legs with each movement. 

“What do you think?” You asked, your voice laced with uncertainty. They had picked out a pair of stilettos, but you eyed them warily from the corner. Momo and Ochako exchanged glances, a knowing twinkle in their eyes. 

“It’s perfect,” Momo affirmed, a bright smile lighting up her face. 

“But the heels?” you hesitated, eyeing the stilettos as if they might bite. 

Ochako laughed, a light melodic sound that eased the tension in your chest. “Trust us, you need them. They’ll give you that extra edge, that ‘I’m not just here to play’ vibe.”

You inhaled deeply, considering the heels. “I guess a little height never hurt. Alright, I’ll wear them.” 

Momo clapped her hands once, vibrating with excitement. “Perfect! Now let’s finish this look with some accessories.” 

Minutes later, you stood in front of the mirror, your reflection adorned with minimalistic silver earrings and a slender bracelet that caught the light just right. You turned slightly, admiring how the sunlight glinted off the delicate silver. 

“You look so good!!” Ochako beamed, adjusting the collar of the blouse as if adding the finishing touch. The three of you made your way to the check out and you went to change into the new outfit. Checking the time, you realize it's time to go. You hurriedly buttoned the blouse, the fabric smooth against your skin. As you slipped into the tailored trousers and finally secured the heels, your heartbeat quickened. 

“I really need to get moving,” you muttered, glancing at your reflection one last time. The clothes hugged your frame perfectly, the heels adding just the right height to give you confidence, but the clock had become your enemy.

“Let’s go, then!” Momo urged, her optimism bubbling as you all rushed down the street toward the parking lot. 

“Do you have everything?” Ochako asked, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and urgency. 

“Wallet, keys…,” you murmured as you rifled through your bag, double-checking the essentials while balancing on your heels. "Looks like I’m all set."

“Good. Now let’s see how you handle those heels in the parking lot,” Momo teased, grinning as she led the way.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. “I think I can manage a few steps without coming apart at the seams.”

You rushed off, the idea of city traffic looming over you like a dark cloud.

You quickly opened your car door, your heels clicking against the asphalt as you dropped into the driver's seat. 

The ride wasn't bad until that dark cloud came to fruition. The combination of traffic and the almost overwhelming anticipation of the interview gripped you as you navigated through the city. Cars crawled in front of you like a pack of slow-moving tortoises, and frustration gnawed at your patience. Each red light felt like a personal affront, stealing precious seconds from your time. 

“Come on! Move already!” you muttered, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, the rhythm syncing with your rising anxiety.

“Relax, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, trying to regain some control over your spiraling thoughts. “Breathe.”

If you could just make it a couple more feet, you know a shortcut through the mountain pass. With a sudden jolt of determination, you spotted a break in traffic and made your move. You turned sharply, the wheels of the Mazda squealing in protest as you directed the car toward the road leading into the mountain pass. The familiar climb beckoned, a siren’s call amidst the chaotic urban sprawl you had just escaped. 

As the trees thickened and the asphalt stretched out in front of you like a ribbon unraveling from a gift, you felt the swell of freedom wash over you. The familiar curves of the mountain pass welcomed you like an old friend, the trees whispering secrets in the wind. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, the Mazda responding to your eagerness with a familiar purr. 

Catching the rearview, you noticed a car coming up behind you at a rapid pace. From the looks of it, it was an Evo III. A well known drift car. The sleek, gleaming body of the Evo III glinted as it surged forward, engine roaring like a beast eager to break free. You narrowed your eyes, determination settling in your chest as you shifted slightly in your seat, pouring your focus into the road ahead. 

“Great, just what I needed,” you muttered under your breath, your knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. The driver of the Evo III lurked closer, a challenge hanging in the air between you. You recognized the fierce competitive spirit in the other driver’s approach, a flicker of annoyance sparking within you. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you murmured, determination flooding your veins.

As the Evo III pulled alongside you, revving his engine. Whoever it was kept the windows rolled up, not showing their face. So you decided to keep yours up too. Your heart raced in rhythm with the roar of the Evo III's engine, the familiar adrenaline igniting a fire within you. You could almost taste the challenge in the air, hot and electric but the intruding thought of your interview came crashing down. 

“Not now,” you hissed, your fingers tapping against the steering wheel. The Evo III revved again, a taunt echoing in the space between you as if the driver understood your internal conflict and thrived on it.

You clenched your jaw, determination pushing you forward. 

"This isn’t the time, but…" you inhaled deeply, your eyes narrowing as you shifted your foot onto the accelerator. The Mazda MX-5 surged into motion, the familiar weight of the car shooting you forward like a bullet leaving a chamber. 

The Evo III matched your pace, its engine growling defiantly as the two cars barreled down the mountain pass in tandem. The thrill of the race pulsed in your veins, igniting every fiber of your being. You glanced over at the driver in the Evo III, but the window remained tinted, concealing their identity. You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the road that twisted like a serpent before you. You needed to finish this, and fast. The asphalt unfurled in a series of undulating curves, beckoning you to dance with the road. The rush of wind whisked past you, mingling with the roar of both engines as they flew through the first corner. The world outside became a blur of greens and browns, trees whipping by in a frenzied streak. 

“Let’s go!” you shouted, feeling the exhilaration spiral into a fierce focus as you leaned into the next curve, pressing the accelerator hard and feeling the tires grip the road. The Evo III’s driver responded in kind, maneuvering skillfully around the bend, a slight advantage giving him the edge as he surged forward.

You gritted your teeth, your determination boiling as the Evo III pulled slightly ahead. 

“Not today,” you grumbled, your foot pressing down harder. The Mazda MX-5 roared beneath you, responding to your urgency as you flung herself into the next turn.

“Focus!” you reminded yourself, aggravation starting to fill you. As the curve tightened, you felt the shift in weight, and you leaned into it, guiding your Mazda MX-5 with precision. 

“Just like Shota taught me,” you murmured. You powered through, trying to come up with a way to lose this guy. The Mazda MX-5’s engine sang, its growl resonating through your body as you aimed for the exit of the turn. Trees flanked the road like silent spectators, their branches swaying in the wind as if cheering you on. You kept your focus sharp, gripping the wheel with fierce determination. 

The Evo III drove ahead, but you spotted an opening. Leaning into the turn just enough, you swung around, gears clashing smoothly as adrenaline surged through you. 

“Now or never!” You felt the power of your car wrap around you like a living thing, commanding your every move as you swung onto the inside line of the corner, tires gripping the asphalt with an eager bite. The world outside blurred in a symphony of green as the Evo III's driver glanced over, surprise written across the unknown face behind the tinted glass. It was a fleeting moment, but it fueled your resolve. You pushed harder, feeling the sweet surge of acceleration lift your spirits as the gap between you and the Evo III grew. 

“Catch me if you can,” you taunted, your voice barely rising above the roar of the engines.

The curves melted into a blur, the Evo slowly disappearing from behind you. 

You kept on your path, the idea of the interview no longer seeming as daunting. You made it to the fancy looking building , its sleek facade shimmering in the midday sun. The MX-5 rolled to a smooth stop in the parking lot, your heart racing with exhilaration and nerves as you killed the engine. You took a deep breath, letting the buzz of adrenaline wash over you like a refreshing wave. You glanced down at your outfit—a sharp contrast to the casual attire you usually wore behind the wheel.

Carefully making your way up to the building's lobby, you straightened your outfit and put on an air of false confidence. 

Fake it till you make it.

-.-

A distant roar echoed through the streets as you pulled into the parking lot, your heart racing from the adrenaline of the interview and the thrill of the road. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the asphalt. 

About halfway through your interview, which wasn't even with your supposed new mentor, you realized you promised the crew you'd go watch some races tonight. The interview was strung out longer than you could've ever expected. 

So now you are racing through the streets to make it back to the pass, hoping to make it before they start the first race. The hum of the Mazda's engine throbbed beneath you as you navigated the winding roads. You leaned into the curves, every turn a reminder of the lessons etched into your brain by Uncle Shota. The bottom of the pass approached, and you rounded the last corner with a rush of excitement. As you emerged from the final bend, the scene unfolded before you like a vivid painting—cars lined up, lights flickering, and a crowd buzzing with anticipation. 

There seemed to be a crowd, all circled around two guys. A tall blond stood at the center, his expression fierce enough to intimidate even the boldest of racers. The glare in his eyes sparked a buzz among the onlookers, who gathered in a ring of excitement, whispering among themselves. With the arrival of your car, everyone's head whipped around. Including the set of angry vermillion eyes. 

Parking your car, you watched as a stressed Momo followed the blond brute who was fastly approaching you. 

Holding a muscled arm up, he pointed his index finger towards you. "You." 

You bristled at his rough voice, shutting your car door and standing on the uneven gravel beneath you.

"You think you can just stroll in here after racing my team and not face the consequences?" His voice cut through the noise like a knife, confidence oozing from every word.

You straightened, "...and who the fuck are you?" You matched his sharp words with some of your own.

He stepped closer, his breath warm and heavy with challenge. 

"Name's Katsuki Bakugo," he snapped, fists clenching. "You raced my boys earlier. You think you can just show off and walk away?”

Shoving a thumb back in the direction of his crew, he gestured to a tall redhead standing next to an Evo.

“Your little joyride at the pass?" His brow furrowed, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You smoked Kirishima, and now you think you can just waltz away without a rematch?”

Said Kirishima stepped forward, a sheepish grin on his face. “Hey, it was a good race! She's got skills, man. Don’t take it personally.”

Bakugo shoved a hand through his spiky hair. “Don’t you dare defend her, dumbass. If anyone’s taking this on the chin it’s gonna be me.” 

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “He lost fair and square. I’m not going to apologize for putting up a fight. I didn't think his daddy would come running to his defense." The crowd exploded in a mixture of gasps and laughter, each person eager for the drama to unfold. Bakugo's eyes ignited with rage, and the air crackled with tension.

“Watch who you’re calling daddy princess,” he snapped, stepping even closer so you could smell the metallic tang of his frustration. “You might end up in a situation your smart mouth can't handle."

The crowd shifted, sensing the brewing storm. You locked eyes with Bakugo, refusing to back down. 

“You think I’m scared of you? Bring it on.” The corner of Bakugo's mouth twitched, a smirk breaking through his intense glare. “You’re either brave or just plain stupid.”

“Maybe a little of both,” you shot back, your heart pounding in your chest. The thrill of the challenge surged through you. Bakugo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“Fine, I’ll give you a rematch. But how about we do it right? A proper one-on-one. No tricks, just you and me on the line,” Bakugo proposed, his voice lower but dripping with challenge.

“Two races,” Kirishima cut in, his grin brightening as he nudged you. “Me against you, Y/N, and then Bakugo against Izuku. If we’re doing this, let’s do it properly,” he grinned, a spark of excitement evident in his voice.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, eyes darting between you and Bakugo as the stakes grew higher. 

Bakugo growled at Kirishima's words, hearing a name that has brought him nothing but annoyance. "Fuckin' Deku."

“Then let’s put it to the test. You want a rematch?” You leaned forward, the heat of competition igniting your veins. “Let’s make it official.”

The crowd murmured, feeding into the tension. Bakugo’s lip curled into a smirk, a hint of excitement breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. 

“Looks like you’ve got some guts after all,” he replied, a challenge lacing his tone. The crowd shifted again, hearts racing in anticipation.

“Let’s see if you can actually back that up,” he taunted, his voice almost playful, but the intensity in his eyes was far from lighthearted. 

As the sun dipped lower, casting jagged shadows across the asphalt, you felt the weight of the mountain pass looming behind you. You steeled yourself, determination fueling your every thought. 

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” you said, confidence swirling within you as you slid back into your Mazda, the familiar roar of the engine igniting a fire in your chest. 

Momo stood off to the side, face pale as she watched Bakugo walk off. 

"What are you doing?! Are you seriously going to race him?" Momo's voice trembled, her eyes darting between you and the retreating figure of Bakugo. “You know who he is, right?”

"Yeah, I know. The King of Musutafu Pass," you replied, climbing back into your car and adjusting the rear view mirror. “And now, his crown’s on the line.” Momo stepped forward, urgency seeping into her voice. 

“You’re serious? What if he—”

“Don’t worry, Momo.” You interrupted, glancing at her with a smirk, feeling the adrenaline already pumping through your veins. “He may be good, but I’m not the same driver I was a month ago.”

Momo hesitated, biting her lip. “Just be careful, please,” she urged, concern etched in her features as she leaned closer, trying to gauge the strength of your resolve.

“Careful is my middle name,” you quipped, taking off to meet up with Kirishima at the top of the mountain. Momo gave a small chuckle at your words, knowing that it was the furthest from the truth. 

Shinso walked up, putting a hand on your elbow. 

“Hey, are you really going to take him on?” Shinso’s voice cut through the haze of excitement, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Of course,” you replied, a challenging smile stretching across your face. “You heard him—he wants a rematch. I can't back down now.”

Shinso's expression darkened, his tone serious. “He’s not just some brash racer; he's known for his temper and his skill. You could get seriously hurt.”

The weight of his concern settled in your chest, but you shrugged it off. “I’ve trained for this, and besides, Shota's been preparing me. I can handle it.” 

Shinso studied you for a moment, the tension in his brow easing slightly, though the worry still lingered in his eyes. 

Getting back into your car, he shut the door behind you. 

"I gotta go prepare the kid, he's probably shitting himself right now." He motioned towards Izuku, who was standing still as a statue as Momo filled him in. 

"Nice shoes by the way. I wanna see those later." With a wink, he's off in Izuku's direction. 

Putting the car into first gear, you show out and whip around the empty parking lot, the engine roaring to life beneath you. The metal vibrated with energy as you pulled onto the road, navigating the curves toward the mountain. The familiar route ignited memories of the countless hours spent training with Shota, every sharp turn a lesson learned, every straightaway a test of speed and control. As you wound your way up the mountain, the anticipation twisted in your stomach like a coiled spring, each corner pushing your focus to the limit. 

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, the smooth surface comforting under your palms. As you reached the top of the mountain pass, the flickering headlights of cars illuminated the gathering crowd. The atmosphere crackled with excitement, radiating from everyone who had come to witness the duel between you and Bakugo. You pulled into the designated spot, the roar of your engine fading into a low hum as you turned off the ignition. The crowd around you erupted into hushed whispers, their eyes darting towards your car as if you were the main event in a high-stakes show. You unbuckle your seatbelt, taking a moment to breathe in the cool mountain air, tinged with the faint scent of pine and fuel. Cool night air brushed against your face, refreshing amidst the rising tension. 

Kirishima bounded over, excitement bubbling in his expression.

 “You’re here! Bakugo can be a bit much. I'm sorry. The name's Kirishima, let's have a manly race, yeah?" His toothy grin was on full display.

You chuckled, the warmth of his enthusiasm cutting through the tension. “Yeah, let’s see if you can keep up this time, Kirishima.”

“Ha! You’re on!” His grin widened as he bounced on his heels, energy radiating off him like sunlight. 

A voice came crackling through a walkie talkie on Kirishima's hip.

"Bakugo and Deku are both ready." Kirishima turned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“Looks like the show is about to begin!” He pumped his fist, a burst of energy that echoed in the mounting tension surrounding the race. Without a second to spare, the sounds of roaring motors can be heard all the way at the top. 

Unfortunately for Izuku, Bakugo's RX-7 was too much. From the constant reports coming through the walkie-talkie, it was clear that Bakugo had left Izuku in his dust, pulling ahead in a blaze of speed that rippled through the crowd's excitement.

The roar of Bakugo’s RX-7 echoed through the mountain pass, creating a symphony of adrenaline as the crowd erupted with cheers. His bright headlights rolled up to the two of you, coming to a stop mere inches from your legs. The engine purred ominously as Bakugo leaned out the window, his smug grin barely containing the competitive fire within.

Izuku came trailing in noot too much longer, stepping out with a solemn look on his face. His shoulders sagged as he approached, catching his breath. 

“I-I tried my best,” he managed, wiping sweat from his brow. “He’s really fast, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but you're getting better, Izuku," you assured him, a reassuring smile lifting the corners of your mouth. "Just keep practicing those techniques."

Bakugo snorted from his car, leaning further out of the window, his fierce gaze locking onto you. 

“As if that’ll help him. You think a few tricks are gonna save you when I beat you?” His voice dripped with disdain.

You had to beat Kirishima first, nerves beginning to bubble in your gut. Kirishima landed a strong pat to your back and headed towards his Evo.

It's time. You took a deep breath, forcing the nerves aside as you walked towards your Mazda. The gravel crushed underfoot, each step grounding you in reality. 

“Ready to make this a race to remember?” Kirishima asked, his voice light but laced with competitive spirit. He leaned against the side of his Evo, the engine still warm, gleaming under the fading light.

“Is this a race or a vacation?” You retorted, confidence surging as you climbed into your car. 

Kirishima chuckled, his grin widening. “I like your style. Let’s make this a race that’ll get everyone talking.”

You revved the engine, the familiar growl vibrating beneath you, matching the racing in your heart. “Just don’t cry when I smoke you at the finish line. Again.” You shot him a confident smirk, the thrill pulsing through you as adrenaline surged from within.

Kirishima leaned against his car, chuckling. “We’ll see about that. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too." 

You nodded, the excitement building, the atmosphere electric as the crowd roared in approval, sensing the tension and anticipation in the air. 

With a final rev of your engine, you felt the vibrations resonate through your chest, the echo mingling with the excitement in your veins. 

Kirishima climbed into his Evo, settling into the driver's seat with a wide grin. He shot you a thumbs-up, the tension of competition transforming into an electrifying camaraderie. 

“Just remember, no backing down this time!” He shouted, his voice barely heard over the revving of engines and the cheers from the crowd.

You smirked, glancing back at him. “I wouldn't dream of it.” 

The countdown began, the crowd tumbling into excitement. Each second felt weighty, charged with the anticipation of the races to come. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, feeling the pulse of energy course through you. The crowd roared in unison, a wave of sound that pushed the adrenaline higher. 

"Three... two... one!" The shout broke through the chatter, and everything seemed to snap into focus as the countdown echoed through the air. 

You felt the familiar adrenaline surge, the world narrowing down to the moment at hand. 

"Go!" 

The roar of engines filled the air, drowning out everything but the pounding of your heart. You launched your Mazda forward, the tires screeching against the asphalt as you and Kirishima shot ahead. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound bursting around you like fireworks, fueling your momentum. 

The engine roared to life, propelling you forward with a force that matched the racing pulse in your chest. You made your move, taking the first turn hard and low, feeling the shift of weight as the tires gripped the asphalt. The world blurred around you; only the road mattered, every twist and turn pulling you deeper into the thrill. An imaginary coffee cup kept your focus strong.

Kirishima drifted close behind, and the heat of competition fueled your drive. The Evo was a sleek beast, but you felt the Mazda respond to your every command, like a well-trained partner. You pushed the accelerator harder, feeling the car almost hum beneath you. The road curved sharply ahead, and instinct kicked in. You flicked the wheel just right, the rear tires skimming dangerously close to the edge as you hugged the corner tightly. The thrilling rush filled your veins, and you could hear the wild cheers of the crowd fading, replaced by the focused silence within the car.

Kirishima flashed into your peripheral, his Evo close but not close enough to break your comfort zone. You felt the rush of exhilaration blend with concentration, the essence of racing swirling within like a storm. Ahead, the road twisted and turned, serpentining through the mountains, each bend challenging both your skill and your willpower.

Kirishima pushed closer, shifting his weight as he tried to glide past you on the outside. You could see the determination in his expression, the fierce competition fuelling his every move. 

"Not today, Kirishima!" The words burst from your lips as you flicked the wheel hard, cutting into the turn. Your tires bit into the asphalt, finding the sweet spot of grip as you pulled away just enough to edge past him. The crowd erupted with cheers, their voices blending into a chorus of adrenaline that surged through you. You could feel the vibrations in your chest, each roar a testament to the stakes—one mistake could mean losing everything.

You fought against the rush of doubt creeping in, shoving it to the back of your mind. Focus. You knew the path; you had memorized every twist of the mountain pass, every hairpin turn etched into your memory from countless hours of practice. The world outside blurred, narrowing down to the road snaking ahead of you and the gentle hum of the engine. The sensation of the Mazda beneath you felt electric, each shift in weight translating into a thrill that threatened to consume you whole. You leaned into the next turn, the tires gripping the asphalt like a predator hunting its prey. 

The curve tightened, and adrenaline coursed through your veins, sharpening your focus. You could hear Kirishima's engine growl behind you, but the sound only ignited your resolve. 

The final stretch approached, and the crowd's cheers fueled your determination as the finish line loomed just ahead. You swung into the next corner, slamming the accelerator down to feel the engine roar in response. The asphalt blurred beneath you, a sliver of darkness edged with glowing lights illuminating the path to glory. 

The finish line neared, an invisible weight urging you forward, every muscle in your body screaming for you to push a little harder, a little faster. You locked your gaze on the non existent white flag fluttering in the distance, a beacon of victory just waiting to be claimed. The roar of the crowd blurred into a singular sound—a wave of energy that surged through you as you approached the finish line. Heart pounding, you threw yourself into the final corner, adrenaline and determination merging into a single, exhilarating force. The tires squealed as you leaned into the corner, the Mazda responding perfectly to your command. You glimpsed Kirishima’s Evo just behind you.

You leaned deeper into the turn, the g-force pressing you against the seat as you accelerated through the apex. The Mazda roared, a wild animal unleashed, and you grinned, fully embracing the thrill of the chase. The finish line beckoned, just a heartbeat away, and every ounce of your training surged through every fiber of your being. 

"Come on!" you yelled, the sound bursting from your lungs as you pushed the accelerator to its limit, every heartbeat synchronizing with the racing engine flickering beneath you. 

Your tires bounded over the finish line, dust flying in a cloud behind you as the crowd erupted into a thunderous applause. You crossed first, heart pounding, exhilaration coursing through your veins like wildfire. 

You pulled the Mazda to a stop just past the finish line, the engine rumbling to a gentle purr as the exhilaration of victory washed over you. The moment hung in the air, the thrill of the race still crackling around you. You took a deep breath, the world settling back into focus as the cheers from the crowd enveloped you like a warm embrace. You turned to see Kirishima pull up beside you, his expression a blend of disbelief and admiration. 

“Damn, Y/N! That was incredible!” His eyes sparkled as he jumped out of his Evo, a huge grin plastered across his face. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

“You weren’t half bad yourself, Kirishima. You put up a good fight.” You stepped out of the Mazda, feeling the energy of the crowd pulsing around you as they celebrated the race's outcome. 

Bakugo stood off to the side, anger swirling in his eyes. His fists trembled at his sides, the tension radiating from him palpable even from a distance. The crowd was buzzing, but his gaze was locked on you, unyielding and furious.

“Alright princess, my turn." He stepped forward, the crowd parting slightly, murmurs of excitement rippling through the onlookers as Bakugo made his way toward you. The air thickened with anticipation, each heartbeat echoing louder with his approach. You met his intense glare head-on, unflinching, as if to say you were ready for whatever came next. 

~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~

Your first race is won and under your belt! Congrats! Next chapter is one on one with our angry Pomeranian!

>di.in.al<3

[di-in-al]

~Drifting into Desire~ PART II

>Warnings: Profanity. Smoking. Mentions of death.

>Word Count: 3.7k

>Tags: 18+ only + future smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + all characters over age 21 + 1990s themed + no quirks + reader insert

>A/N: Hey! Sorry I missed posting yesterday, I just got back in town and couldn't work on the story. But I got finished finally! I'm also hoping to produce some art to go along with the story. I feel like that would help picture some things. Thanks for reading! <3

>taglist: @simp-plague

part I

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The sun poured through the window, bathing the room in a golden radiance that wrapped around your eyelids like a gentle embrace. You had been awake for about fifteen minutes, lulled into consciousness by the soothing, rhythmic purr of your cat, a comforting start to the day. You could hear Uraraka’s cheerful voice arriving not long after you woke up, her laughter mingling with Momo's melodic tone as they engaged in lighthearted conversation in the kitchen.

Though the world outside beckoned with its promise of a good day, you lingered in bed, your fingers tracing the silky, soft fur of your feline companion who nestled contentedly against you. The sheets had lost their warmth, a telling sign that Shinso had slipped away hours ago, his departure a hushed affair as if he were a ghost in the night. How he managed to be so silent despite the rumbling of his loud car was a mystery you’d likely never solve.

Eventually, curiosity stirred you from your haven of slumber. You slowly opened your eyes to see a pair of vivid green orbs gazing curiously up at you, filled with a blend of affection and mischief. With a tiny chirp, your cat stretched out wide on your chest.

“Good morning, bub,” you murmured fondly, coaxing the soft creature with a gentle stroke before carefully rolling out of the warmth of your bed. Taking a moment to find a pair of clothes that felt right, you made your way toward the kitchen, your feet quietly padding against the cool floor.

In the kitchen, Uraraka was perched comfortably at the small bar, her lively spirit shining through as she chatted animatedly. Momo bustled around while gracefully preparing breakfast. 

“Y/N! Good morning!” Uraraka exclaimed cheerfully, her eyes sparkling as she bounded over. She wrapped her arms around you in a gentle side hug, and you nestled your cheek against the top of her head, savoring the warmth of her embrace.

“Breakfast is almost ready. You want some tea?” Momo chimed in, her voice melodic amidst the bustling sounds of the kitchen. Dressed in a cute apron that accentuated her figure, she expertly wielded a spatula, flipping the tamagoyaki with precision. The mouthwatering aroma wafted through the air, filling every corner of the kitchen.

You pushed back from the counter and ambled around, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath your feet.

“Nah, I need coffee. Thank you, though,” you replied, your tone slightly gruff as you focused on the task at hand. As the coffee pot gurgled and sputtered, you expertly measured out the grounds, letting the familiar routine ground you.

“Long night?” Uraraka's voice floated in from behind you, light-hearted yet tinged with concern. You nodded, your thoughts briefly drifting to the events of your night. 

Momo, standing poised at the stove, let out a thoughtful hum. You shifted your gaze to her, brow furrowed with curiosity.

“What?” you asked, pouring a generous splash of cream into your mug, the swirls mixing in with the dark liquid. The coffee pot beside you let out a final sputter as it filled the glass container, the rich scent enveloping you in comfort.

“Oh, nothing,” Momo sang, her tone deceptively airy. But the fleeting, disapproving look she shot your way sent a shiver of realization down your spine. She knew.

Your heart sank. Oh fuck.

She knows about you and Shinso.

As her eyes flickered back to the stove, the tranquility of the morning felt suddenly fractured, an unspoken tension hanging thick in the air. You fought to keep your composure, but your thoughts were starting to race.

“Momo, look-” your words were cut short by the phone ringing on the wall. The sound created a pause in your worried thoughts, watching as Uraraka jumped up from her seat. 

“I’ll grab it!” She shuffled over, grabbing the phone and holding it up to her ear. You half heartedly listened as you sipped your coffee, the tension between you and your roommate being thick. Before you had the chance to explain yourself, her voice quietly filled the small space between you.

“Just don’t let it affect your driving.” Her stern voice had a softness to it, her hands expertly plating food onto three plates. You simply nodded, keeping the warm cup up by your face. 

You thought she would’ve reacted worse, but at the end of the day you were grown. She couldn’t tell you who or not to date, but you understood that she was just protective of you. 

“Y/N? It’s for you.” Uraraka held the phone out to you, you put down your comfort in a cup and walked over to the phone. You wondered who was calling this early, but your mind only landed on one person. 

You took the phone hesitantly, a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. “Hello?” 

“Y/N. It’s been a while,” Your uncle’s gravelly voice came through the receiver, laced with a heaviness that made your stomach churn.

“Yeah, it has. Everything okay?” you asked, your fingers nervously playing with the phone cord.

“I suppose. Though I’d prefer to discuss this in person. I was thinking you could come over later today.” 

Your heart raced. “You want to see me?”

There was a subtle pause in Shota’s voice, and you could almost feel his gaze through the phone.

“Yes. I’d like to extend an olive branch. There’s… been too much distance between us since your return.”

You swallowed hard, glancing at Momo, who was pretending to be busy with work, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “I didn’t mean for things to feel different. I just... needed time.”

Shota’s voice softened slightly, a blend of understanding and firmness.

“We all need time to adjust, especially after what you’ve been through. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. I have some things I’d like to share with you.”

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your resolve. “Okay. I’ll come over.”

“Good. Let’s say around noon? There are some things I want to clarify,” he replied, his tone steady, underscoring his typical no-nonsense demeanor.

“Clarify? Like what?” you felt the knot tighten again.

“My expectations may have created a distance between us.” He let out a slight sigh, the weight of his admission hanging in the air between you. “I want to address that.”

“I didn’t want to upset you. I was just trying to figure everything out,” you confessed, feeling a mix of relief and guilt wash over you.

“I understand,” he said. “We all have our processes, but remaining silent isn’t helpful.”

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been a bit quiet… and you’ve been your usual self.”

“Could say that.” His tone was flat, yet you detected a hint of something softer beneath it. “I was never one for frivolities. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

You didn’t respond, instead chewing on your lip and reviewing his proposition in your head. His deep voice traveled through the phone once again, bringing you back to the conversation. 

“Just bring an open mind,” he continued, his voice firm yet encouraging. “It’s time we have a frank discussion.”

Nodding, you felt a flicker of warmth in your chest. “Okay. I’ll see you at noon.”

“See you then.” The line went quiet, but the weight of the conversation lingered, filling you with a mix of apprehension and hope.

The darkness that had been smoldering beneath the surface flared back to life with just one phone call. Memories that you had tried to bury surged forward, pressing against your conscience like a tide threatening to engulf you. You had returned to Japan after years abroad, and now you were questioning every reason behind that decision.

Just two days after you graduated college, a tragic accident shattered your world. Your parents had come to visit you, traveling from their new home to celebrate your achievement. It had been a four-hour drive, one you could have made in half the time if you had only known what was to come. They were only fifteen minutes from home when a drunk driver changed everything. 

Your mother was gone in an instant; your father lingered for a few hours, fighting for breath but fading nonetheless. When the phone call came, echoing through the silence of your small dorm, you rushed home with a heart full of fear and dread. 

You weren’t fast enough.

You’ll never be fast enough.

“Y/N?” Uraraka’s voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality. You glanced at her, meeting her worried gaze, and felt the anxiety coil tighter in your chest. 

“All he wants to do is talk,” you managed to say, attempting to sound nonchalant. But the concern etched on the faces of your friends—Uraraka and your steadfast roommate—told you they saw right through the façade. “I’m going to see him at noon.”

With that, you turned away from their watchful eyes and headed back to your room, desperate to escape the weight of their concern and the tumult of your own emotions. You needed a moment alone. You needed a cigarette. The small ritual would help clear your mind, if only for a fleeting second.

Once you finally gathered your thoughts and calmed the whirlwind in your mind, you returned to the kitchen. Both Uraraka and Momo looked up expectantly as you entered, and you offered a quick, appreciative smile before taking a seat at the table.

“Hey, guys! What do you think about me bringing Izuku to the team meeting tonight? He asked if he could come along, and I really believe he’d be a great fit!” Uraraka’s face lit up with enthusiasm as she bounced slightly in her chair, glancing eagerly between you and Momo.

“Oh, I’m sure you just want more opportunities to ogle him,” you teased, taking a sip of your steaming coffee and watching her cheeks turn a bright shade of red.

“I do not!” she exclaimed, hands flying to her face in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment. You couldn't help but chuckle at her adorable reaction, while Momo watched with a bemused smile.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Momo said, nodding thoughtfully as she finished her meal. “We could really get a sense of his driving skills. We still need someone exceptional for uphill challenges.”

A triumphant grin spread across Uraraka’s face.

“Yay! I’ll let him know! Speaking of which, I’ve got to meet up with him soon. Momo, could you give me a ride?”

“Of course,” Momo replied, rising to collect the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean up, and then we can head out.” 

As the two of them chatted excitedly about your potential new teammate, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest. This was the kind of support you had needed, and with people like this beside you, every uncertainty felt a little less daunting.

-

Time crawled as the clock ticked closer to noon. You tried to keep yourself occupied with mundane tasks, but your mind danced with uninvited memories of the past—how things used to be so easy between you and your uncle before the world twisted and turned your life upside down. 

Eventually, you couldn’t delay any longer. You grabbed your bag and walked out, filling the space around you with the weight of uncertainty. The sky was an angry shade of gray, droplets of rain beginning to fall as you made your way to your uncle's place. The morning sun was only a tease, a siren call to get you out of bed.

Upon arrival, the familiar building felt strange. It loomed over you, a reminder of all the moments shared between the two of you. With each step toward the door, your anxiety morphed into anticipation. You knocked tentatively, the sound swallowed by the sudden rush of rain.

Shota opened the door, his expression an unreadable blend of surprise and relief.

“Y/N,” he greeted softly, stepping aside to let you in.

The warmth of the room greeted you, but it felt stark against the chill you carried inside. Shota ran a hand through his hair, a habitual gesture that had always intrigued you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied, shifting your weight. The atmosphere was thick, the silence a tangible presence. 

“Sit,” he motioned towards the couch, his tone steady yet inviting. “I think it’s best we have this conversation openly.” 

You perched on the edge of the couch, your fingers nervously intertwining. “What do you want to clarify?”

Shota took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.

“First, I’d like to apologize. I realize I may have placed expectations on you that weren’t fair. When you returned, I expected things to snap back into place, like before.” 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you.

“I wanted that too,” you admitted. “But everything’s different now. I’m different.”

“I’ve noticed,” Shota said, his gaze unwavering. “It’s like the event changed the very fabric of who you are. Your silence… I thought it meant you were shutting me out.”

As you watched him struggle to articulate the pain that lay heavy in his heart, it dawned on you—you weren't the only living victim of that reckless drunk driver. Your uncle had lost a brother, a lifelong companion, and a confidant. In your own haze of grief and anger, you had failed to grasp how deeply the tragedy had etched itself into his soul. 

Just a couple of months ago, you had a major fallout. You had thought his relentless pressure was unwarranted, that he was pushing you too hard to embrace responsibilities that felt suffocating. He wanted you to step into the shoes left behind by your parents, to honor their legacy by using your degree and becoming successful. Yet amid his well-intentioned efforts, he had overlooked your need for time—to breathe, to process the aftermath of your shared loss.

Racing was the only refuge that brought solace. Every time you gripped the steering wheel, the roar of the engine drowned out your chaotic thoughts, and for those fleeting moments, you could escape the weight of reality. But your uncle's insistence on finding a career and starting your life made your sanctuary feel like a betrayal. You were lost, caught between your need to honor your family’s memory and your desire to lose yourself in the speed of your car.

“I was just trying to process everything,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Realizing you were both grappling with your vulnerabilities, you could see the subtle shift in him.

“Y/N, you’re not alone in this.” His words rung with sincerity. “I struggled too. I want to be there for you, but I didn’t know how to approach you without stepping back into the shadows.”

A heavy silence enveloped you again, but this time it felt different. It was charged with honesty. You took a second to study him—his eyes, his expressions—this was the uncle you knew, the one who always cared, even from afar.

“I just expected you of all people to understand me.”

Your uncle was legendary for his exceptional driving skills, particularly when it came to conquering the notorious Musutafu Pass. Known as the "Eraser of the Musutafu Pass," he had an uncanny ability to leave even the most skilled drivers dazed and confused; they would approach him with confidence only to find that his extraordinary prowess would make them forget their own driving instinct. 

But when your family moved to America, your uncle's passion faded with your departure. He retired from racing, feeling as though the thrill of the track had been snuffed out without his biggest fan by his side—you. 

Once he stepped away from the world of racing, nothing he achieved seemed to hold a candle to that exhilarating rush. Days turned into weeks, and the vibrant spark that once drove him was replaced with an emptiness he couldn't shake. Determined not to let you inherit that same sense of loss, he channeled his energy into guiding you, making it his mission to ensure your happiness and success. 

“Believe me, I get where you’re coming from,” he said, crossing his arms. “That’s why I have a proposition for you.”

His words caught your attention, and you looked up at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes.

“I’ve arranged an interview with one of my colleagues,” he continued. But as he spoke, your heart sank, irritation bubbling within you. The moment of hope you had felt dissipated, and you quickly stood up.

“I knew it would come to this,” you shot back, anger igniting in your chest as you turned toward the door.

Just as you reached for the handle, your uncle’s calm voice sliced through the tension. 

“Accept the interview, and I’ll show you how to conquer that mountain pass.”

You froze mid-motion, shock coursing through you. Every bit of frustration gave way to a flicker of intrigue, leaving you momentarily speechless.

A few moments of silence engulfed the conversation, fighting back and forth on the urge to give in or continue to fight back. You didn’t want to give up on your dream.

“Taking the interview doesn’t mean giving up your autonomy. It’s simply a stepping stone—one among many.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have made this proposition if I didn’t see potential in you. You are already battling your own emotional mountain; this is just one way to climb higher.”

You looked down, chewing your lip, weighing the choices before you. Your fingers were still wrapped tightly around the handle of the door, a physical reminder of your desire to escape. Yet, something inside you yearned to stay, to explore this moment. After all, how often did you have the chance to shift the narrative of your life? 

“Okay,” You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do the interview.” 

A flicker of pride ignited in your uncle’s eyes, casting away the shadows of your doubt.

“Good. And then together, you and I will tackle that mountain pass. You will learn not just to face your fears but understand them, overcome them—all while finding your own path.”

He reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. The weight of it felt grounding, a promise that you were not alone in this. Your frustrations hadn’t vanished entirely, but now there was a path ahead, illuminated by both uncertainty and hope.

-

Shinso leaned against Izuku’s Toyota Levin, peering under the hood for a final inspection. The engine hummed softly beneath his touch, and a flicker of pride crossed his face as he made a few adjustments. You stood by your own car, watching with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Izuku, heart pounding, sat in the driver’s seat of the Levin, his eyes wide with both excitement and apprehension. You could see him take a deep breath, trying to steady himself for the uphill trial ahead.

“Alright then, kid, let’s see what you got,” Shinso said, slamming the hood of Izuku’s car shut. A cloud of dust rose from the gravel beneath their feet, and he wiped his dirty hands on his dark jeans, leaving streaks of grease behind. The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange hue over the rugged landscape of the Pass, where the group had gathered for the meeting. You could hear the distant sound of engines revving, the anticipation in the air palpable.

As the group finished preparations, Shinso slid into the passenger seat of Izuku’s car with a relaxed confidence that belied the intensity of the moment.

“Just remember to stay light on the throttle during the turns. Timing is everything,” he advised, his voice low but filled with a commanding tone. Izuku nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration while his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

With a quick glance at you for reassurance, Izuku turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. The sound sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched the adrenaline course through him. The three of you took off in a flurry of rubber and gravel, Izuku leading the way with Shinso riding shotgun, while you followed closely in your own vehicle, keeping pace with a mix of exhilaration and camaraderie.

As you ascended the winding road, the landscape around you transformed from lush forests to rocky outcrops. The sun dipped lower, casting slanting rays that glinted off the polished paintjobs of both cars. Izuku navigated the curves with precision, channeling all the focus you had seen during the countless hours spent outside the racing scene. Each turn brought its own challenge, and you could see him processing the landscape even as adrenaline surged through him. 

It became clear just how talented he was. You had no doubts that Izuku was more than capable of handling the uphill — his confidence grew with each corner he conquered. Shinso offered occasional commands, each one more a reminder than a directive. “Good job; keep it steady,” he'd say, or “Hold the line,” pointing out the ideal racing line as they climbed higher.

When they finally reached the top, the three of you parked in a shaded overlook, taking a moment to catch your breath as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Izuku emerged from the Levin, a broad grin plastered across his face.

“Did I really just do that?” he exclaimed, disbelief and joy radiating from him.

Shinso chuckled, giving Izuku a hearty clap on the shoulder.

“You did good, kid. But we’ve still got some work to do before you take on any serious races. Your car needs a bit of tuning for the uphill runs, and I’ve got ideas brewing.”

You couldn’t help but admire the dynamic between them, the mentorship forming like gears meshing together. As the sun set and the twilight encroached, you felt a sense of camaraderie settling in. You were part of something bigger now, a group bound by a shared passion for speed, skill, and the thrill of the race. The promise of future challenges and adventures hung in the air like the fading warmth of the day, and that thought alone fueled your excitement for what lay ahead.

part III

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hey so I know this was a lot of backstory, but it'll be worth it! We get to meet the king of the pass next chapter I promise!

<3 di.in.al

[di-in-al]

~Drifting Into Desire~ Katsuki Bakugou x Reader PART I

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After studying abroad in America, Y/N returns to Japan with big dreams and a degree in hand, only to find herself struggling to meet societal expectations. Pushed too far by her uncle Aizawa, she becomes entangled in the thrilling yet dangerous world of street racing, battling her own aspirations and rivalries. Particularly her rivalry with the King of Musutafu Pass, Katsuki Bakugou.

>Bakugou x Reader, Shinso x Reader

>Warnings: Profanity. Implied sex. Sexual themes. Smoking.

>Word Count: 2.7k.

>A/N: Hi! I've had this idea for a while. It's lightly based off of the anime Initial D, with our fav MHA characters. I'm planning on making this a series, so I hope you stick around for the ride!

>Tags: 18+ only + future smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + all characters are over the age of 21 + 1990's themed (No quirks) + repost + reader insert

~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~

As the sweltering heat of summer began to wane, a refreshing chill hovered in the air, whispering promises of change. The whispers flew past your ears, picking up loose strands of hair and dancing with them. The drop top to your car has been tossed back, allowing you to see the changing leaves as they fall into the reckless abandon that is Musutafu Pass. A location renowned for its breathtaking vistas and winding roads that seemed to twirl gracefully around the mountain itself. 

As you navigated through winding rural roads, you felt the warm embrace of late summer still lingering around you, but as you ascended, the atmosphere shifted. Cool air swept in, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. It was a gentle reminder that the exuberance of summer was drawing to a close, making room for the crisp vitality of autumn.

Musutafu Pass is famous for its spiraling descent, a serpentine route that captures the thrill of driving while offering eye-popping views. The road twists and turns, encasing the mountain, each bend revealing a new perspective of the natural beauty surrounding it. This enchanting drive is not just a means of getting from point A to point B; it is an experience that invites you to become one with the landscape. This fact grabbed the interest of a certain group of people.

Street Racers.

As you reached the base of Musutafu Pass, the sun began its slow descent, determined to rest its eyes for the day. You accelerated with eagerness, your heart beating in rhythm with the car’s engine. The drive up the mountain brought forth a sense of childlike excitement, reminiscent of road trips taken in the blissful days of youth. Each turn felt exhilarating as the sprawling hillsides moved closer and the golden leaves began their transformation, shifting from deep greens to vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow.

Along the way, you paused to absorb the views. Each glance outward revealed a canvas painted by nature, where the late afternoon sun highlighted the rugged terrain. The mountains stood proud, their craggy peaks contrasting sharply against the fiery hues of fall foliage. The air felt electric, teeming with anticipation as the landscapes shimmered in the waning light of the day.

It was a moment of serenity amidst an ever-busy world—a chance to breathe in the crisp mountain air while allowing nature’s beauty to captivate your senses. You took in the sounds around you: the rustling of leaves, the loud hum of your exhaust, and the gentle breeze dancing through the trees. Time seemed to stretch, inviting reflection on the passing seasons and their significance.

As you ascended further, the shadows grew longer and the chill in the air deepened. You felt the need to reach the summit quickly, not just to catch the views, but to relish the changing of the guard from summer to fall in this picturesque paradise. You accelerated slightly, eager to witness the breathtaking panorama that awaited you.

Upon reaching the top, you were rewarded for your journey. The expansive view opened up, revealing a majestic landscape of undulating hills and valleys, now cloaked in the warm colors of autumn. The setting sun hung low on the horizon, casting a golden glow that illuminated the spectacular transformation of the world below.

The hum of the engine faded to silence as you turned off the ignition, an intimate moment of calm before the chaos that always surrounded your passion. With a steady hand, you pulled the e-brake, feeling the weight of the car resting securely on the side of the mountain road. You stepped out, the cool air wrapping around you like a familiar old coat, both comforting and chilling. Your heart raced in tune with the memories of asphalt and adrenaline that flooded your mind.

A year had passed since you returned to Japan from America, where the rhythm of lectures and study halls echoed in your head like a forgotten melody. You had aimed to seize your life, to transform the dreams that danced just out of reach into a tangible reality. But the moment you set foot back on Japanese soil, the thrill of the classroom quickly faded, replaced instead by the weight of your uncle Shota’s expectations. 

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, you ignited a flame, watching the red glow travel towards the burning tip with a sense of both resignation and rebellion. With each puff, you let the bitter smoke swirl around you, consuming the fears that danced at the corners of your mind. The ashes drifted away, disappearing into the abyss below, just like the plans you’d made for your future. 

Shota had questioned you relentlessly since your return. “When will you use that fancy education to get a real job?” he would ask. His voice bore the burden of disappointment, a reminder of every underachieving day spent behind the counter of a coffee shop rather than on the racetrack where you longed to be. To him, success had a defined shape—one of stability and societal approval. To you, it manifested in the rapid consumption of fuel and the roar of engines translating raw potential into sheer power. 

Yet despite the ticking clock of responsibility, your mind remained quenched by only one pursuit: racing. The siren call of the open road was an irresistible temptation—a seductive promise of freedom. It was the rush of drifting around corners, the exhilaration of overtaking competitors, and the sweet taste of victory that gnawed at you like a relentless itch. Racing wasn’t merely a passion; it was the cure for the noisome thoughts that crowded your brain. 

You stood at the edge of that mountain, gazing down the winding road that curled like a snake through the lush green valley. This was where it all happened. The thrill of racing wasn’t lost to memory; it pulsed within you. All of your thoughts converged here, each day propelling you closer to the moment when you could reintegrate your life and racing as one. 

But how?

When the roar of an engine beckoned you like a lover calling your name in the night. 

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of time pressing upon you. You took one last drag of your cigarette and flicked the glowing ember over the cliffside—a symbolic gesture of letting go of the ashes of expectations. You could stand still and succumb to your uncle’s pressure, or you could dare to awaken the engine of your soul. 

The choice danced in your mind like the tires that would soon grip the pavement. You took a deep breath, filled your lungs with the cold air infused with the scent of adventure, and exhaled the burdens of yesterday. 

With renewed resolve, you climbed back into your car, the familiarity of the leather seats embracing you as the engine roared back to life. The world outside thrummed against the cage of metal and glass, but within, your spirit soared. 

As you merged onto the winding road, a smile crept onto your lips. The race wasn’t just a distant dream but a promise to yourself. It was time to find your place in the world—one drift, one acceleration at a time. Everything else would have to wait; the siren song of racing was calling once again, and this time, you were ready to answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your pop up headlights whirred as they closed, causing a small grin to take over your face. The air had chilled even more, nipping at your cheeks as you made your way to the stairs up to your apartment. With a look over your shoulder, you noticed your roommate's car parked. Momo was probably long asleep by this point, her strict schedule having a death grip on her. 

You ascended the stairs, fumbling your keys to find the correct one. Unlocking the door, it swings open, surprising you with light flooding through. You step in, removing your shoes and replacing them with slippers. 

Momo must still be up.

As if she heard you, she comes around the corner from her room. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, and she peered at you with relaxed eyes. 

“You were out late. Running the pass?” She could read you like the back of her hand. 

The two of you had been best friends since grade school. By each other’s side until college approached. She attended UA University here in Mustafu, while you went abroad. 

“Yeah.” Was your quick response, and as you walked by, she scrunched her nose with disgust. 

“And obviously smoking cigarettes again.” With a scoff, she turns and retreats back to her room. You only gave a small chuckle as you stripped your jacket and hung it up. 

“It’s called an addiction for a reason.” She returns with a disgruntled look on her face, tossing a stack of papers in your direction. 

“Yeah, well, those can be broken,” She flipped through a couple pages before directing your attention to some models. “Here’s the modules you asked for. We can go out tomorrow and run them, see if they’re any good.” 

The two of you belonged to a street racing team known as Impact Velocity. IV for short.

A newer group, you guys just came together a little under a year ago. You decided to take a year to work on every dynamic before taking to the streets. 

“Once we're done, we should have a group meeting. I think we're close to being able to race.” You gave her a nod, and with that, she returned to her room. 

“Get some rest, Y/N. You look like you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since you came back.” Her motherly tone caused you to roll your eyes, and nod your head. 

“Thanks, mom. That’s a great morale boost.” Her chuckle floated through the air as her door clicked close. Taking a peek at the pile of papers in front of you, your eyes began to throb. A migraine was starting to form behind your eyes, and you took that as a sign to meander your way to the shower. 

The bathroom filled with steam as the water poured from the spout, the mirror reflecting an image of you undressing. Pulling your hair out of the confines of a claw clip, you brushed through it a couple times. Entering the hot shower, you hoped it would wash away the agonizing feeling of being in a constant tug of war with your own mind. 

It didn’t, but you hoped some shut eye might help. Reaching your room, you towel dried your hair as you pressed play on the voicemail, it shining bright with the number one. 

“Hey, it’s me.” Shinso. You threw the towel in the dirty clothes basket, and snatched up your pack of cigarettes. Waiting on him to continue, your feet pad over to the balcony attached to your room. 

“I haven’t seen you in a couple days, and I was… thinking about you today. If you are free tonight, I could swing by. Lemme know.” With that, the machine beeps and erases the message. The lit cigarette in your hand burned with each puff, the smoke swirling around and thankfully away from Momo’s room. 

Hmm. Hopping up on the balcony rail, your feet dangle in the cool breeze. You contemplate Shinso’s offer, knowing there was more behind his words than what the voicemail led on. 

He’d been a student of your Uncle’s, often coming over to the shared house of you and your uncle to study. You’d moved in with him while you got back on your feet, and had the chance to meet Shinso. He’d been timid at first, but eventually the two of you realized you had more in common than originally thought. He was a racer as well, a fact that was hidden to your uncle. 

Things quickly changed into something more. The two of you sneakily meeting up late at night and taking out frustrations on one another. Things didn’t change once you moved in with Momo, not wanting her to know about two teammates being intimate behind closed doors. You contemplated the voicemail, knowing you shouldn’t.

You finished your cigarette, tossing it and making your way back inside. You picked up the phone, dialing a familiar number. 

It rang once, then twice before it was picked up. 

“Hey, you.” Shinso’s husky voice answered the other end, and it sent a warm feeling straight to your core. Your cheeks heated up, and you tried to suppress the grin taking over your face. 

“Hey, you wanna head over?” Your voice seemed strong, even with your crumbling resolve. A chuckle rang out from the other end, and that only sped up your demise. 

“You know, you make me feel like a piece of meat when you get straight to the point like that. Shame on you.” On the other end, you could hear his car start up, almost as if he was waiting for your call.

His comment made you scoff, with a smile.

“You called me first!” You hush yelled, not wanting to alarm your ever watchful roommate. 

“I’m fucking with you, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” You let out a small ‘kay’, and hung up. Putting the phone back on the holder, you walked over to your bed and sunk down on it. Picking up your current read from your bedside table, you read to pass the time.

You could hear his Nissan 180sx from a mile away, but he was always careful to coast in neutral as he pulled up. You peeked out, watching as he silently exited his lavender colored car, tucking his keys away. He ran a strong hand through his half up purple locks, pushing pieces that had escaped out of his eyes. 

Climbing up a vine covered trellis, he landed on your balcony with a thud. His lavender eyes met yours, and a wicked grin crept up his face. 

“Lemme bum a smoke.” He asked, not taking a step into your room yet. Your eyes rolled back, leaning forward and setting your book down. 

“And you say I’m the one that uses you..” Your fingers pulled back the top of your cigarette pack, extending it towards him. He leaned forward, both hands on the balcony railing, and snagged one with his lips. He watched as you flipped open your zippo, and ignited it with a quick flick. You protected the flame from the harsh breeze with a cupped hand. His lazy eyes stayed latched onto your face as he puffed the cigarette to life. Leaning back, he peeled his eyes away from you and onto the city in the distance. 

“We gonna race soon?” Smoked flowed with his words, and you nodded. 

“Give it a couple weeks and I think we’ll be good to go. I need you to take a look into the Miata for me. Momo came up with a couple modules for me, and I think I’m gonna need some things tuned to fit.” He nodded his head, turning in your direction. A moment of silence passed as you tried to wrangle your fleeting thoughts. 

“What’s on your mind? I can hear your intruding thoughts from here.” You shook your head, and looked away. 

“Same old, same old.” You didn’t care to elaborate, him already having heard the tirelessly plaguing thoughts you always had. 

Fingers grasped your chin, turning towards him. His heavy lidded eyes peered down his nose at you, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. He coerced your jaw open, taking a long drag from the cigarette elegantly trapped between his pale fingers. 

Leaning forward, he exhaled smoke into your mouth, the nicotine sending your mind ablaze. His lips followed the smoke, carefully grazing your open lips. 

“Lemme help you forget it then, sweetheart.”

part II

~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~~~.~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: If you got this far, thanks! This was very wordy I know, but there's gonna be more interactions from this point forward. I'm hoping to update every Sunday night!

di-in-al <3

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Lily of the valley 💕🧚🌱✨

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The spiked up hair KILLS ME

i need to ruffle his hair i need to ruffle his hair i need to ruffle his hair i need to ruffle his hair i ne

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BKG & Coffee

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Nuvonu

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Pride & Prejudice (2005), dir. Joe Wright

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Ian Holm (September 12 1931 - June 19 2020) as Bilbo Baggins in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

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Lifelong (I)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Summary: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes lead a manhunt for someone who could help.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence, language

AN: Here’s the start of part 1 for this series. Enjoy!

Florence, September 2023

From the outside, one would say Sam Wilson stood tall in front of the secluded building facing him. The sharp suit made him exude confidence, but on the inside he felt anything but.

“Buck?” The comm that sat silently in his ear didn’t make him feel any better, and he rubbed his sweaty palms on his long slacks. This was one of the biggest operations Fury had put him on since he took up the mantle of Captain America. He had been put through many nerve wracking situations, and he didn’t think this would be any different. His accelerated heart rate said differently.

Him and Bucky had been following a group that was heavily involved with criminal activities and that S.H.I.E.L.D. followed since the mid eighties. They fled from sight after Steve took down Hydra, not to be seen until now. There was a crackle in his comm before hearing a familiar voice.

Keep reading

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Lifelong (Prologue)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have a very long history. One he doesn’t remember and one you can’t forget.

Word Count: 700

Warnings: Nothing really. Profanity I guess. 

AN: Hey guys! This is gonna be a short story about an idea I’ve had for a while. I hope to update regularly. Otherwise, I’m super excited for this and I hope you enjoy!

Unknown Location, January 1992

The snow that fell around you was quiet. Your footsteps were the only thing that could be heard. 

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The small, low lit cabin wasn’t far up ahead from you. You silently thanked yourself for heading west today instead of north. A huge snow storm was coming in from the north, which means no wildlife would be out. The few rabbits you held in your right fist dripped blood every couple of steps and your mind only wandered to if you were going back into town for supplies before the storm. 

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Stranglehold

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: When you became an Avenger, you thought your past was buried deep enough to never resurface. But when your skills as a hunter of the supernatural are needed, you’re forced to reveal more about your former life. Word Count: 4.2K Warnings: Multipart fic. So many characters. So much dialogue. Eventual smut. Angst. Reader has powers and goes by a codename. 

Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this story for literally SO FUCKING LONG. I kept scrapping the whole idea and bringing it back to life for the better part of a year or so, but here it is. The first part, anyway. More will come if you ask nicely. Please give feedback. Don’t forget to reblog after you read. Treat your writers well.

You awake to someone shaking you, beckoning you to rid your slumber and get out of bed. With a groan, you roll over onto your stomach and effectively kick the owner of the voice in the stomach.

Bucky chuckles and catches your ankle before you can get another jab in. He tugs your leg gently and pulls the sheets off from your body, which you quickly pull back over yourself to shield your bare skin. He laughs harder as you sit upright and shoot daggers at him, your hair disheveled and holding the sheet up to your chest.

“C’mon, you act like I haven’t seen you naked before.” Bucky smiles smugly and grabs for the blanket again.

You swat his hand away and grip the sheet tighter. “That was over a year ago. You lost the right to see me naked when you—“

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He cuts you off with a slight roll of his eyes and turns toward the door. “Fury called for a briefing. He’s got a new case. Be down in ten.” He calls over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

Keep reading

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Stranglehold - Part II

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: When you became an Avenger, you thought your past was buried deep enough to never resurface. But when your skills as a hunter of the supernatural are needed, you’re forced to reveal more about your former life.

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Multipart fic. So many characters. So much dialogue. Eventual smut. Angst. Reader goes by a codename. Flashbacks. Underage drinking in flashback. 

Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this story for literally SO FUCKING LONG. I kept scrapping the whole idea and bringing it back to life for the better part of a year or so, but here it is. The second part. More will come if you ask nicely. Please give feedback. Don’t forget to reblog after you read. Treat your writers well.

Part I

Yellow sunlight filters through the blinds, casting shadows on the walls and spreading warmth on Bucky’s face. He groans inwardly upon waking up and rubs a hand over his face. There was a half hour before his alarm was set to go off, but he decides to get up despite the feeling of his heavy eyelids.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee leads him to the kitchen. The sight of Sam Wilson hunched over the kitchen island, head in his hands, while Sam Winchester cooks breakfast makes a chuckle rumble in his chest. 

“Don’t you look like you had a lovely evening? Where’s Steve? You scare him off during the night?” He hears Wilson mumble something about the shower and accepts that as an answer. “Can I help with the food?”

Winchester looks over his shoulder and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s just about done. Wanna get the two outside and call ‘em in?” He points out the window to the shed where he sees you and Dean working on what he guesses to be their car. 

Bucky nods and heads out the backdoor, nearly jumping out of his skin when the sound of Metallica blaring from the stereo hits his eardrums. When he moves to walk down the porch steps, he stops when he sees Natasha swaying in the rocking chair to his right.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” She wears a cocky grin, already knowing the answer. Bucky opens his mouth to speak, ready to deny her accusation, when the sound of your laughter pulls his attention back to the shed.

Keep reading

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Californian Gold (Part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, bullying (if you squint)

Notes: Here’s Part 2 as promised! It’s mostly a filler chapter, but lots of you and Billy. The tag-list is open! So feel free to ask. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_______

Billy sang along with each word that blasted through the radio in his car. His car was extremely clean seeing that it belonged to a teenage boy. His leather seats were flawless with no burns or tears in them, and everything else was shining. Except for his glove compartment that was wide open and full of cassettes. Your hand grabbed the first one that stuck out. The words DEF LEPPARD were on the front with bright colors and pictures.

“You a car person?” His voice went from singing to suddenly questioning you. His eyes didn’t leave the road in front of you, instead his hand questioned you more than his face did. You really didn’t know how to answer that question. You weren’t voluntarily a car person, your dad making you learn the way a car worked for instances like these.

“Yeah, I guess.” He took the short response to keep quiet, or just go back to his obnoxious singing rather.

Eventually, you pulled up next to your car. It had stopped smoking for the most part and it now sat idly like it usually does. You silently gave it a scowl and cursed it for putting you in this position. Billy went on about something as you pulled your hood back up. Now that the engine had time to cool off, you could see the radiator reservoir was bone dry.

“Here Doll, you fill it up. I’ll look underneath for the leak.” Before you had the chance to protest, he ripped his jacket off, tossing it on the hood of his car. He had a white wife beater on underneath that was halfway tucked into his jeans. He quickly slid under the car and you couldn’t help but watch. His long legs were the only thing you could see, but damn that was nice too.

“Go ahead and pour. I’ll watch and see where the leak is.” You got to it, only to stop when you heard him start sputtering.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” He cried, crawling out quickly and you could help the laugh that escaped your throat. His face was covered in black liquid, and it transferred to his arm as he wiped it away from his eyes. You couldn’t help but try and hold back the laughs from coming out, but you failed. Terribly.

His irritated eyes watched your lips and then proceeded to wipe his hand across your face with a mischievous grin. With that, you stopped. He watched as your mouth suddenly turned sour, and any remnant of happiness left your face.

Billy watched as you cowered back into your shell. You wiped the dirt from your face and proceeded to your car. Your turned your engine over, successfully turning it on and hearing it roar to life.

You couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed that this ended your eventful evening, but at the same time, your mind wandered to your Dad. He was probably worried sick. Your peripheral caught Billy wiping off the oil angrily and grabbing his jacket.

“Look Billy, thank you so much for helping me. I really appreciate it. I do. I’ll see you around, yeah?” Your hopeful eyes went back to his. It was then, you could see his friendly demeanor change to his typical asshole self. His eyes hardened and his plump lips turned up into a sour expression.

“Yeah, no problem.” With that, he threw his jacket back on, and ripped his keys out from his pocket. After he sped off down the long road, you let out a long sigh. He did seem like a semi-decent guy. They thing that made you stop and think was, why would he treat you like that and playboy all of the other girls. He wouldn’t.

You tried to not read into it too hard and continue on your mission to get home to your dad. You hopped in the cabin of your car and took off towards home.

The faint sounds of the tv going was the first thing you heard after walking through the dark doorway. Until there was a click and the feeling of cold metal against your temple. You froze, dropping the grocery bags that were in your hands.

“Daddy?” Your voice came out as a broken whisper, and your eyes traveled to his large form next to you. His eyes softened from the hardness that consumed them. You’ve seen that look in his eyes many times before. Ever since he started staying in the house more and more, he became worse when it came to his flashbacks and being over protective of you.

“Y/N/N?” He dropped his elongated arm and ran his empty hand over your shoulder. “Where have you been? Are you alright?” His raspy voice came out a mile a minute and you reached down to pick up the now busted milk carton and frozen pizzas.

“Yeah Daddy, the car broke down. A buddy from school helped me. Radiator hose has a leak.” Your voice was now calm, and how it usually is. Not the terrified rendition that was heard a few moments ago. The mood that filled the room calmed down along with the casual talk and he uncocked the gun and went to put it away. His hand traveled along with the counter towards his room.

The new house has thrown him off.

He walked back into the kitchen slowly, and opened his eyes towards you. His cloudy eyes reminded you of just how vulnerable he actually is. He was lucky enough to come home from the war with his life, his sight however, was left in Vietnam.

“Now tell me about this hose.” His calming voice was directed towards you, and you flicked the light switch, letting light flood into the room. Boxes still lay around, neither of you bothering to unpack anything yet.

“I dunno, I was driving and smoke just started coming out from the hood. I’ll go see if there’s a car part store around here.” He nodded, turning away from you and facing the tv.

“You still want some pizza?” His gray colored curls shook along with his head and you chuckled. “Me neither.”

You shoved the frozen frisbees into the freezer and went to clean up the milk.

“You still have that .38 I gave you? You need to keep that by your bed and take it with you in your car. We don’t know this town yet and I don’t want anything happening to you.” His voice carried through the two different rooms and you sighed. You totally forgot about that thing. It had to be in a box in your room somewhere.

“Yeah, it’s in my nightstand.” You lied, not feeling bad about it. You weren’t too fond of the thing, but you kept it to make your dad feel better. You’d never need it and you knew that, but it was your dad that always thought of the worst scenarios.

“Good. I’m going to go sit down. You going to bed?” You threw the milk covered paper towels in the trash can, and turned towards him.

“Yeah I think so. Got school early tomorrow.” After saying your good nights, you walked up to your room.

You worried about your dad. He suddenly wanted to move to Hawkins, and coming from him, it was a weird move. He never wanted to leave the house in Florida, let alone move all the way up here. You lived your entire life there and so this move was hard for you.

You walked through your doorway, and walked around the room, careful not to run into any stacks of boxes. You ran your hand across the wall, feeling for the light switch. You flicked it up, light coming from the old ceiling fan hanging from the ceiling. It looked exactly how you left it this morning.

Except for the man standing by your window.

A scream formed in your throat, until you recognized the three stories of hair that frantically was moving back and forth. Steve’s eyes were huge, his index finger held up to his lips to tell you to be quiet.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?!” You squeaked, his voice catching in his throat. You both stood, staring at each other and he was looking around frantically for an answer. “Well?!”

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay! That whole phone call thing freaked me out. What happened?” His brown eyes went back and forth between yours, and you watched as he goofily tried to explain his presence.

“My car broke down and Billy showed up when I called you. We fixed it, I’m fine. That still doesn’t explain why you came through my window?” The wind blew your sheer curtains around from where he left the window open.

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t want to come through the front door. Your dad is scary. Like Hopper scary.” You didn’t know what the hell that meant, but you went with it.

“Okay well, I’m good. You could’ve just asked me at school tomorrow, but thanks for checking on me.” After you finished speaking, he just nodded. He proceeded to stand there awkwardly  and you chuckled.

“You should go home, we have school in the morning, yeah?” He smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. Sorry for scaring you. I’m sure you’re sorry for scaring me so we’re even. See you tomorrow?” He began climbing out of the window, and you pushed some hair behind your ear.

“Course, night Steve.” Right before he jumped off into the pile of bushes under the window he  nodded.

“Night Y/N.” He took off to the next house and walked in the front door. You closed your window, being sure to lock it. Never had to do that in Florida.

The drive to school was awful, but you made it. Barely. Billy’s car was already parked in the same spot as yesterday. You decided to park next to him, seeing as your class was right through the door in front of this parking lot.

You saw Steve and Nancy sitting in his car, talking. You threw your Walkman on, and headed inside hoping to sit in your first period class and read some more of Dracula.

You got a couple pages in before class started and you felt pretty good this morning. A huge contrast to yesterday.

“I came through the door today.” Steve’s voice came from above you, and you nodded with a laugh. His tall frame sat down in the desk next to you and you both waited for the teacher to come in. You were totally immersed in your book and the music coming from your Walkman to hear your name being called. It wasn’t until your Walkman got ripped from your head that your attention was averted to the person standing next to you.

Billy stood there with nothing but a leather jacket on his torso. His smug smile made you nauseous.

“What?” Your voice came out a bit harsher than you meant to, but you were almost happy that it did. He looked around to the majority of the people watching, and chuckled.

“Never took you as the bookworm type.” He ripped the book from your hands and your anger immediately went through the roof. You held your hand out calmly, but slightly shaking.

“Give it back to me. Now.” His lips turned into an elongated oval, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” No one noticed the teacher walk in, and he just sat there and watched the situation unfold. He had an itch to make an example out of someone this early.

“Give it back to me, Asshole. Or I shove that book so far up your-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hargrove! Y/L/N! Detention after school!” His loud booming voice rang through the classroom and that’s when everyone corrected themselves and faced the board, getting their materials out and acting like they were completely innocent.

“Excuse me? He took my stuff!” Your eyes bore into Mr. O’Connell’s and he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Does that matter? You were spitting profanity like nothing and Hargrove was bullying. You both deserve it. Now, either get your stuff out and learn, or get out of my classroom.” He was pointing at his door by this point and all you could do was let out a huff.

Billy put your book back on the desk softly and gave you a wink.

That’s when the war started.

After your final class of the day, you headed outside for a cigarette and to put your stuff in your car. You watched as a group of boys hopped on their bikes and took off towards the woods. Mr. O’Connell saw you and watched as you smoked your cigarette.

“Y/L/N! Detention! Now!” The groan that escaped from your throat was loud and you killed the light of the cig under your boot. You headed back inside only to be fretted with Steve’s face.

“Sorry Y/N. I’ll see you later.” He walked out, joining Nancy and walking to his car. You’d also have to explain to Joyce why you were late on your first day.

You headed into the classroom where detention was held, seeing a couple people already in there. You flipped down in the only isolated desk left, and stared at the paint chipping off of the white wall.

“Well hey there.” You didn't even bother to turn around and entertain him. “Y/N?” He began playing with the sleeve of your jean jacket and you ripped it from his grasp.

“Fuck off Billy.” The malice in your voice was thick, and you thought it might’ve worked until he started running his finger along the back of your neck.

“Hargrove, I will break every finger to put on me. Try me.” You whipped around and slapped his hand away. Y/E/C eyes stared at his baby blue ones, noticing the mischievous look they were giving off. “Seriously, leave me the hell alone.”

“But you’re so fun to mess with. C’mon Y/N, I’m just playing with you. It’s supposed to be fun.”

You thought that if he was any closer, he might’ve been able feel the heat radiating off of you. The anger began bubbling in your veins and you gave a bitter chuckle.

“No, it’s not fun. You’re just choosing to be an asshat. Leave me alone, or I will kick your ass. I mean it Hargrove, you will be sorry.”

With that, you stood, ignoring the cries of Mr. O’Connell’s protests and flew out of the classroom. You made a beeline for your car and lit another cigarette on the way. The cool air was a huge contrast from your skin. You hopped in, shoving a Scorpions cassette in your radio and took off towards Melvald’s.

This is why you hated people.

When you arrived, Joyce was happily restocking a shelf and humming to herself.

You walked in, the chime above you catching the attention of Joyce.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here.” She wiped away her bangs from her brow and gave a big smile.

“You ready to get started?”

For the next couple hours, she walked you through the many steps of working there. Apparently she’d been working here a little over ten years, and knew all of the ins and outs of the small business. The phone began to ring, and she excused herself. You really think you’ll like it here, it’s quiet and no people.

She came back in a hurry, her face had a worried expression plastered on it.

“I’m sorry to leave you here by yourself, but I really need to head home. My youngest son..isn’t feeling well.” You immediately began wagging your hand at her and shaking your head.

“It’s not a problem. Really.” With that, she grabbed her purse and headed out. Her tires squealed as they ripped out of the parking spot and she took off.

You looked around and sighed at the lack of presence. You reached down and grabbed your book, immersing yourself in that to keep occupied until close.

__________

@speedmetalqueen @asheseiler @ietss

[di-in-al]

Billy lifeguarding when the Mind Flayer is possessing him