12. 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ⋆ katsuki bakugou. “please don’t say anything.”
content. wc / 2k. drinking + clubbing. mawa is a lightweight. shindo appearance. inappropriate dancing. mention of kissing.
<- | SERIES MASTERLIST / GEN MASTERLIST | ->
The club is loud, and your head already hurts.
Mawa is three shots deep, talking at an unreasonably loud volume (lightweight), and Yuyu is standing beside you, staring down at their phone.
The glass in your hand is damp with condensation, wetting your palm. It feels gross, and the drink isn’t that good either, but you down it anyway, throwing your head back with a grimace. It’s some fruity drink, gifted to you by the bartender, who could tell you were having a “rough night,” in his words.
You’d resisted the urge to roll your eyes and taken it from his hands before he could say anything worse, like ask for your number.
“And also,” Mawa continues whatever rant she’s been raving about for the past five minutes, “he doesn’t even do the homework. He uses ChatGPT. Isn’t that so dumb? I don’t know how he even graduated undergrad, let alone get in to post-grad.”
You nod along, not quite paying attention. A part of you feels bad for almost blantantly ignoring your friend, but you can’t be fucked to listen properly. You want to get drunk—so drunk, if you recall correctly, that you forget your own name.
And his, if it’s at all possible.
It’s stuck in your head, playing on repeat like a broken record. It’s more annoying than anything. And it hurts a little. You didn’t even talk to him for that long, yet his presence has been looming in the background ever since he showed up to gour apartment.
You clench your fist at your side and make your way back to the bar. You order a round of shots: one for Mawa, one for Yuyu, amd two for yourself.
If you want to enjoy yourself, you need to get drunk. Fast.
“Dude,” Yuyu says, looking up from her phone with a groan, “Miko is completely pissed off that I’m here right now.” She grabs the shot glass from you, making no expression as the liquid slides down their throat. “I told her we were going out and she freaked out, like I was going to a lesbian BDSM club for singles, or something.”
“Woah, this is a BDSM club?” Mawa asks, brows raising. She looks around discreetly, then nods. “Lucrative.”
“No,” you say flatly, handing her one of the glasses. She shrugs and swallows it, gagging faintly. “Miko’s being crazy, as usual. I need more alcohol.”
Yuyu furrows her brows. “You have two shots in your hands,” they point out.
You look down. Oh, yeah. You drink them quickly, back-to-back, then shake your head as if the action will make the taste go away.
“Let’s dance,” Mawa says, smiling as she grabs both of your arms, pulling. You share a glance with Yuyu, then giggle and let Mawa lead you to the dance floor. She navigates her way to the middle, then gasps, and turns to you, shouting, “I love this song!”
You lose yourself to the beat of the song—just a little bit. Mawa is grinning, laughing in your ear, Yuyu is swaying to the music, a little more conservative than what the song calls for.
You’re not drunk yet, just a little tipsy, but you laugh with Mawa as if you are. Your hands are in the air, your throwing your head side-to-side, your hips are moving on their own accord. Okay, this is fun; you still know your name, unfortunately, but you’re not thinking of anything else. This was a great idea.
Mawa stumbles into you, pushing you backwards into something—someone. You turn around to apologize, sending Mawa a quick glare. “Sorry,” you shout to the black-haired man, leaning into him, “My friend is a lightweight.”
He smiles, laughs, then ducks down to your ear. “S’alright. I’d get knocked into over and over again if it meant I had the smallest chance of meeting you.” He leans back with a shit-eating grin, winking smugly.
“That was smooth,” you say, letting out an incredulous laugh as you nod. “I’m Y/n. That’s Mawa and Yuyu.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Shindo. Wanna dance?”
Why does that name sound familiar? You squint up at him, trying to decipher whether you know him or not, but the room isn’t bright enough for you to get a good look. You glance back at your friends, only to find them giving you thumbs up and encouraging smiles.
You turn back to him, and shrug. “Why not?”
Dancing with Shindo is… intoxicating, to say the least. His hands are all over your body, his breath in your ear—it’s like he can’t get enough of you. It feels wrong. He feels wrong. This isn’t the right person. You close your eyes and imagine—
Imagine who? Katsuki? Your body stutters, out of rhythm, and Shindo pulls back, tilting his head. “Everything okay?”
You nod your head violently, like it will dispel the thoughts, and press your lips together. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m gonna go get another drink, want anything?”
“Nah, but I’ll go with you. Can’t have some other guy sweeping you off your feet when I’m gone.” He winks again, and this time it makes you feel sick.
He guides you through the crowd, your hand in his, and you start to disassociate. Why are you here? Why are you dancing with some random guy? Why do you think drinking is going to solve all of our problems? You’re still going to wake up tomorrow morning, head full of Katsuki. You let your grip loosen on him as you finally get to the bar.
He asks you what you want, and you mumble back your answer, looking around the dark room to avoid his eyes. Still, you can’t really see anything, can’t make out any faces. It’s kind of disorienting.
Shindo hands you your drink, and you chug it, hoping it’ll make this feeling of unease go away. He lets out a low whistle, bending down to whisper, “I like a girl that can handle her alcohol.”
It makes you shiver, and not in a good way. You ignore him and drag him back out onto the dance floor, facing away from him as he pushes his body against yours.
Please don’t say anything.
Please don’t say anything.
Please don’t say anything.
One moment he’s there, and the next his body heat is gone. You turn around to find—
The blonde isn’t looking at you. He’s saying something to Shindo that you can’t quite hear. God, that drink is hitting you fast. Shindo puts his hands up in defense, still smiling, then looks at you and walks away.
“What are you doing here?” You ask Katsuki, brows furrowed. “It’s creepy and illegal to stalk someone. Thought you would have known that, being a pro and all.”
He tears his gaze away from Shindo, looking at you incredulously. “Stalki—? I’m not stalking you,” he growls , barely audible over the music. “Mina dragged all of us here tonight. Why were you dancin’ with him?”
You cross your arms over your chest. “Why does it matter? You’re not my boyfriend.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He grabs your arm and starts pulling you away from the dance floor, ignoring your protests. He stops when you get to a corner, near the bathrooms.
“Why are you being so fuckin’ stubborn, Y/n? You can’t hate me forever. I apologized. What else d’you want from me?”
“I…” You trail off. What are you supposed to say now? You want him. You’re pissed off, yes, but you still want him. You want him to grovel. You want him to beg for your forgiveness. You want him to drop down to his knees and cry.
Jesus. Is it getting hot in here? You take a deep breath, but even to you it sounds like a gasp for air. Your eyes dart across his face: his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, his lips. He looks so good tonight.
“Kiss me,” you mumble, meeting his eyes. “Kiss me, Katsuki.”
He hesitates, eyes narrowed. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows. “No,” he says, taking a step back. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” you argue. “I had three—four drinks. Just kiss me.” You take a step forward and put your arms around his neck, his cologne overpowering the prolonging stench of stale beer and body odor. “Katsuki, kiss me. Please.”
He looks away from you. You can tell he’s struggling with himself right now. You know he wants to kiss you, so why isn’t he?
“I’m not gonna take advantage of you when your mind isn’t clear,” he says eventually, putting his hands on your waist. Warm and big. “Give me your phone.”
“Give me your phone so I can unblock myself. You want me to kiss you, you’ll have to wait. C’mon, hand it over.”
You unwrap yourself from him and narrow your eyes. “What if I don’t want to unblock you? What if I just wanna get my rocks off with you in the bathroom and call it quits, hm? What then?”
He drags a hand down his face, groaning. “Now I know you’re fuckin’ drunk. Stop being a brat and give me your phone.”
“Do I get a reward for listening?” You smile sweetly. “Like, I don’t know, a kiss?”
“I’m not gonna kiss you for the first time in some fuckass club while you’re drunk, Y/n.”
You can tell he’s over it from the tone of his voice. It almost makes you feel like getting a lecture from your principal—if the principal was hot and jacked and a pro-hero who’s saved hundreds of people. You reach into your bag, frowning as you hand over your phone.
He hands it back to you after a moment and you stare at him blankly. "Now what?" You ask, wrapping your arms around yourself. You don't know why you suddenly feel so self conscious, but his eyes are burning into your skin.
He crosses his arms, mirroring your earlier movement, and sighs. "I don't know. What do you want to do? Go back to your friends? Go home? I can take you guys back."
You shake your head. "No, no. Mawa and Yuyu deserve a girls night. I'll probably go back to dancing with them."
"Just them?" He's trying so hard to be nonchalant, but it's not working in the slightest.
"Yes, Katsuki," you laugh out, "just my friends. Are you... are you going home? Or are you going to watch me dance all night?"
He clicks his tongue, looking away, and you laugh at him again.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay, 'Suki?" You put a hand on his bicep, squeezing slightly. It's meant to be a reassuring touch for him, but your eyes widen at the muscle. "Jesus," you mumble under your breath, letting your hand fall back to your side.
"Hey, uh, listen," you say, looking down. "This doesn't mean I fully forgive you, by the way. You still have a long way to go. And I expect full transparency from here on out. If you still don't want anything serious, let me know right now."
"I call you every night, go out of my way to visit you at work, and I showed up to your apartment to say sorry," he says, almost scoffing. You look up to find a small, almost imperceptible smile on his face. "I want you, Y/n. Swear it."
"Okay," you say with a nod."
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