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vmlnrz · 1 year

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H.S

The time had to be passed midnight or something and the temperature kept getting awfully cold, or maybe it was just Shuji who wore less clothing. Mist is exhaled as he pants. He has climbed up to your bedroom window, cursing under his breath as he sees it locked. He raises an arm to knock at it. He stops, however. Looking at you through a gap in the curtain you didn't draw properly.

The cold would kill him and it would be trouble if he gets caught. But you look so gentle. Few seconds he begs himself to grant just to stare at you. It was his highschooler boy heart that ached to see you like this— to wake up next to you in future when you live together. Few seconds. He reminded himself. It would be creepy too— to stare for too long so he knocks.

It takes him a few knocks on the window to wake you up. He is melting when he sees you rub the sleepiness off your eyes. Cute stuff. He thinks. The gentleness on your features doesn't last long as you hurry to open the window. “Go up,” You shiver at the cool breeze “I'll be there in a minute.”

It happened often and it repeated again. Not that he's complaining except for the fact that it's cold out on your rooftop. Sneaking into your room was a better option if it weren't for your younger siblings who you shared your room with. He wishes there was a fire in front of him where he seated to warm him up.

Cursing, he looks up at the moon. He scoffs. It reminds him of you. He recalls minutes ago when you were sleeping. He’d kill to wake up next to you, just a little older and you're already married to him— he fantasizes. He'll surely miss the moments that repeated on these nights— sneaking up at the rooftop. Then he recalls, you told him you'd be up in a minute. Liar. He groans, the cold getting him.

Small noise of your footsteps makes him smile when you reach towards him, bending down to where he’s seated. He takes note of your actions. First, you place down a thermos. Second, you shove cup noodles and chopsticks in his hand. Third, you take off the blanket off your shoulders and wrap it around him. Fourth, you looked in rush. You have only two hands to carry stuff.

“The jacket. Scarf. I'll get it-”

“Don't leave,” He has a grip on your arm, “I'm alright.” He tugs you to sit beside him. Maybe he can be cheezy and wrap the blanket around both of you, just like his highschooler heart wishes. But no. Instead, you're wrapping the blanket around him properly as you hold the ends while you scold him for being reckless. He smiles nonetheless.

You take the cup noodles from his hands and rip off the top. Pouring the boiling water from the thermos, you also snatch the chopstick as you stir the cup noodles. You're taking care of him. He melts at that. He was almost waiting for you to feed him too but you just shove the cup noodles in his arms. He laughs at himself for thinking you were gonna spoon feed him. He reminds himself to not get too carried away when you spoil him.

Itadakimasu. He mumbled before he dives in.

“What happened,” He guesses you noticed the little scratch on his face.

“Uh...fought? Cops chased after.”

You hum in acknowledgement.

You hug your legs after another gush of cool wind. “Where is your jacket?”

He smirks at your question, something smart about to come out of his mouth. “With you.”

You were indeed wearing one of his jackets but that's not what you asked. “Shuji.”

It wasn't hard to answer I forgot to wear one. But he’s Hanma.

“Nah check your closet. You have them all.”

“You keep on giving me those.”

“You keep on stealing. Really tho I'm a little broke right now, I'll have nothing to wear if you keep up this.”

You quiet down, deciding not to say anything cause your genuine worry seemed like a joke to him. You wonder if he notices that you're annoyed. He does. Tho he’s not gonna show that he knows. As much as he's happy right now that you're worried, he had to ease your mood. But it backfires and he sees you're more worried now.

“What are you doing?”

“It's your jacket anyways-” He stop you midway when you were unzipping his jacket.

“Keep it on,” His tone came out more serious than he thought so to lessen the tension, he adds “You’ll catch cold honey.” He finishes the cup noodles, placing the empty container beside him.

You quiet down yet again as you hug your knees. His lips tug up when he sees a blush more prominent than it was due to cold. It was probably cause of that nickname. He sees it through you when you try to maintain a nonchalant look to cover up the fact that you're flustered. It has him fantasizing again. How one day, he’ll be stepping under the roof you two share, announcing— honey I'm home. How one day, he’ll be tired from work and will be welcomed by your hugs. How one day, he’ll be late and be welcomed by your kisses for him to recharge. But it also saddens him— that one day, when he calls you honey, you won't blush like you're doing right now cause you'll be used to it.

The blush on your face was now gone and there shared a comforting silence. It was there was a minute or two before it started getting uneasy. He sees how you look at the scratch on his face. He begged the time to go fast. That way, you'll be in front of him as you patch him while scolding him. But time didn't stop or changed speed for anyone.

You had established taking the relationship slow when you said yes to dating him. That was long ago and a longer way ahead of him with you. So he wonders. After getting further in the relationship, will there be a time when you would patch him up? When you would scold him?

“Does...does it hurt?”

That's right. There's a long way ahead of him with you and he has already started to get impatient.

“It hurts, doesn't it?” You cup his cheek with your hand, thumb grazing right below where the scratch is located.

“Marry me.”

You didn't realize when it started snowing, or how fast or slow the time is going, or that the blush was back on your face

He grits his teeth at his stupid confession. It's stupid but he doesn't regret. There's hardly times when Hanma Shuji is serious. He knows it too. So it was necessary that he would say it. Cringing more at the fact that he’s actually a little serious about the marriage. “It should be only you for me.”

“Shuji-”

“So promise,” He holds your hand that was cupping his cheek. With his corrupted hand that had written sin at the back of it. But it's gentle. Gentle just like the moon when it reminded him of you. Grazing your hand just like you did under his scratch, he continues with his confession. “When we get older, when we're finally forward in our relationship—” A few seconds he begs himself to grant to finally say what he wished, “You'll say yes and you'll marry me.”

#hanma x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma shuuji x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers

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itz-candikin · 1 month

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I Think of You All the Time...

TW: Religious imagery (?), suicide, incorrect amount of melatonin

"Now that you're gone..."

Bruno muttered under her breath as she saw Lexi's corpse just... hanging there up on the ceiling. Lexi's eyes, the same deep blue as the ocean, were now looked as empty as one. Bruno remembered the first time she saw Lexi's corpse, just like the second time, and the third, and the fourth... she even lost count how many times she saw Lexi die. It used to drive her mad, trying to find a way to save the girl she cared about most. Now she just feels empty and hopeless, knowing that every time she tries, she fails.

Bruno just went to the mess she called her room, just to rot there and stop her tears from coming. The white walls were barely white, due to the dust, dirt, and clutter around it making it look different. Trash under the bed, no clothes were in the closet as they were all on the floor. Paper was all over her desk, covering the only thing clean in the room, the photos of her friends. The lights were barely working, blinking constantly. Bruno got on her knees and begins to pray.

"God, if you're there... it's Bruno." She said as her voice started to shake. "Why must you do this? Why can't you just let Lexi live just once? I will even take her place! I deserve the suffering more then she does." Bruno cried out to her walls, despite knowing God will not hear her. "Please, just hear me this once! All powerful God, whenever you are... all Lexi had was suffering, I pushed her away, I caused original pain. It feels like you're intentionally making her suffer on purpose now!" Bruno just let her streams of tears flow down her cheeks.

"What's the point? We both know you aren't going to bother listening... right? Please prove me wrong." Bruno said in a almost whisper. She flopped onto her bed, which let out a loud creak, and grabbed her blanket that was just barely hanging on the bed. She wrapped it around her body, and turned to face her barren wall. She grabbed the bottle of melatonin, which was in between the space of the bed and the wall, and took all the gummies inside. She hummed Lexi's favorite song until the melatonin kicked in and knocked her out.

Bruno expected to wake up in the same blank room that contains the reset button, she does every time she falls asleep. Its so she can reset whenever she wants, which she took advantage of every time Lexi died. She thought this would be the same just like every other time... but she saw something odd.

She saw a weird looking stick guy, something a little kid would draw. The stick figure towered over her, his skin blending into the white blank walls of the strange room. He had three rings of his finger, a ruby ring, a diamond ring, and a emerald ring. He also wore a clean black scarf that looked soft. He also seemed shocked.

"Uh... who are you?" Bruno says, she never saw someone else be in this room, she always by herself. "Henry Stickmin, you?" The strange stickman replied. Bruno stared right into the empty lines she assumed were his eyes, Henry awkwardly stared back. Henry patted his fluff on his mostly bald head then said "What's with the look? Never seen someone like me?" Bruno remained quiet, looking around as if she was gathering the words to say what she wanted. Henry waited patiently, he knew what the look meant and gave her the all the time she needed.

Bruno eventually spoke up. "I wish my best friend would stop killing herself." Henry immediately got shocked, he assumed this girl would be just like him, especially since she looked like a young adult, much younger then he was. He didn't expect someone to already be suffering like this so early. "Oh my god..." Henry muttered "I'm so sorry! I could help... but I'm not sure you would like how I could."

Bruno's eyes lit up as Henry said that, she would do anything for her best friend. She was basically a sister to her. "Tell me! Please... I need to hear it." Bruno yelled out. Henry saw the pain and desperation in Bruno's eyes, and pulled Bruno in for a gentle hug.

Henry softly stated "I can offer a special reset button, one where it does a full reset and combines our worlds. It will completely alter everyone's lives, including your dear friend. However, you'll live through one more reset before this, and there's many concerns about this that even I don't know myself." Bruno quickly agreed to the idea in a heartbeat. She didn't care about the problems a true reset might cause, it was practically her only choice.

Both Henry and Bruno pressed the reset button, unsure whats to come...

#fics of poisoned candy #lettertale lore #technically this is right before resettale but still #idk what to tag and im not that proud of this

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inkblot-inc · 2 years

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You're Gonna Need A Bigger Boat...

Summary: A look into Natasha and Wanda’s journey to helping Jaws get acclimated and hopefully less destructive

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mutant!TigerShark!Reader

[AU Masterlist] [Part 1] This is Part 2

Warnings: Darkish themes; Language, anger-induced outbursts, descriptions of unhealthy management of anger issues, mention of murder, brief mention of cannibalism, and violence….it’s Jaws man

Note: It's the SEAquel, baby!.....Moving right along, I thought it was good to show the gist of how Jaws interacts with Wanda and Nat and vice versa. Getting to see Jaws develop trust with them and ultimately cultivating their first friendships with the two. I hope that I depicted Jaws' feelings well enough to get the point but let me know what you think.

Word Count: 1.3k and some change

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

When Natasha and Wanda started working with you, the first thing they had to adjust was your impulse to be violent with basically anything that annoyed you

Patience was something all three of you needed two work on in this regard

For the three of yours's sanity and everyone's safety, Tony wasn't allowed to be in the same room as you unless it was urgent

To help build up your sense of patience and manage your rage, Wanda would sit with you to watch melodramas, starting the show with her keeping you completely pacified with her powers. Throughout the course of the show, she would slowly ease up her power over your mind to see your natural responses to what was happening on the screen.

If the impulse didn’t improve, she would start over. It was an exercise of persevering and adjusting that took you a while to catch onto.

“He’s hiding in the fucking closet! He’s right fucking there, are you blind?!” You threw the cup you were using (thankfully empty) at the tv, effectively breaking it for the fourth time.

“They’re probably going to get exposed at the gala later on to draw it out” Wanda was largely used to your outbursts by now, so she simply fixed the TV again and floated the pieces of your cup to the trash can.

“That’s dumb, get it over with already,” You huffed staring at the now paused screen.

“I know, but it’s to build up the drama for the later episodes,” she patted the seat next to her where you previously were, “Now come sit back down so we can finish this episode.”

You can’t break things to fix everything, the wife was still going to wind up cheating on her husband no matter how many times you break the tv screen

(Especially with Wanda being able to just put the TV back together with her powers)

After exercises with the melodramas, Wanda would put on sitcoms to decompress. You largely tolerated those more.

The Clenched fists, the bouncing knees, and that molten rage would make less of an appearance the more you did this exercise.

After a while you’d actually been able to focus on the show and not the stupidity of the characters and their decisions

While Wanda would lightly scold you for breaking things, Natasha was definitely more of the mind to fully reprimand you for your outbursts.

She was the one who worked with you on not getting violent with other people unnecessarily.

She never backed down from you when you would try to intimidate her and that frustrated you more than anything.

She'd level you with her own stare until you would be forced to back down.

That stupid pit in your stomach would twist uncomfortably when she would give you that look, and you didn't like it at all.

Natasha also suggested getting into a hobby or something that you wouldn’t want to break/maim/completely destroy after five minutes.

There weren't a lot….

One thing that you really took to was Legos, which was a pleasant surprise

Natasha bought a lot of things on a whim that one thing would keep your interest long enough.

While you straight up chucked puzzle pieces in the bin when they wouldn’t fit and almost broke Peter’s game controller when trying to play video games, you’d always come back to the Lego sets that she bought and put some of the blocks together

Something about the colors and how the pieces snap together leaves you with a nice feeling.

Do you put the sets together correctly? No, not even close

You ignored the instructions completely and just started putting pieces together.

The fact that they’ve survived your hairpin trigger the longest out of everything else Natasha’s brought back was a good sign.

She promptly went to buy more

Something else that she realized was that while you didn’t like reading all that much, you could listen to Natasha read aloud to you.

Something about her voice is pleasant to your ear, and you wanted to hear more of it.

Natasha came into your room and sat on the bed next to you. “What’s next Jaws, Goblet of Fire?” You sat up and looked at the bookshelf that was slowly getting less vacant. You picked up said book and handed it to her nodding. “Yep, here you go.”

“You know you don’t have to wait for me to read the next book to find out what happens, You can read ahead if you want,” Natasha chuckled as she picked up the Harry Potter book.

Your cheeks flushed “I actually pay attention when you read it though,” You settled back down on the bed next to Natasha as she opened the book, taking one of your hands in hers.

You keep your gaze on your entwined hands, that weird feeling you’ve come to associate with Natasha was coming up again. “...I like hearing you read,” you admit quietly.

She quirks the side of her mouth up in that half smirk she usually does as she flips to the first page. “Well, I like reading to you.”

The most complicated part of dismantling this impulse was them having to sit down with you to try and understand it.

Both Wanda and Natasha were present when they talked with you about this impulsive anger. Wanda was in front of you while Natasha was next to you holding your hand, which you didn’t mind.

“It was the easiest thing to tap into, the only emotion I needed to tap into.” You grumble, your leg bouncing only slightly. Wanda only had some of her power active now.

“For these missions you had?” Natasha’s brow furrowed as she listened to you.

You nodded. “It’s how I was so effective. I didn’t need to have restraint, remorse, or whatever the hell else. The ringing in my ears was something I looked forward to, because it was just me,” You took a deep breath while looking at the floor.

“It was your outlet.” Wanda finished as she saw a brief flash of thought in your head. The storm, losing your family, having to survive alone, the poachers capturing you, meeting Dr. Faustus…

“I had nothing. I lost what little I had multiple times and I was forced to deal with it. So it kept bubbling, bubbling up inside me…. And then he threw that woman, that first person, into the tank with me and gave me a choice. I remember watching her thrash around trying to get away from me. When I killed her, ate her…..It was the most powerful I’d felt in the two years leading up to that day. I had control over this one part of my life. I craved it, yearned for it even.” Your hands started to shake recalling the memory of tearing into the poor woman’s thigh all those years ago.

“Others in the base feared me, and I liked that. I had control, however small, and I wasn’t seen as the same sniveling kid that they brought in, and I wanted to keep it that way.” You glared at your shoes as you tried to practice the breathing exercises Natasha had you practice for when you felt that heat begin to creep up.

Natasha gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. She hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time you were talking, and that feeling of irritation wasn’t present, but still left a blooming sensation in your chest. You’d just had lunch before you all sat down, so you weren’t sure what it was this time…..

This talk and all the ones Wanda and Natasha would have with you after were for both of them to get a better understanding of you and allow you to just vent in a way you haven’t had before.

It was something you found that you would almost look forward to

These conversations also helped you verbalize the anger that’s been internalized for so long out in the open so you can not necessarily let it go completely, but better handle your emotions in general.

Having people that would just listen to you felt…nice

#marvel #marvel headcanons #wanda maximoff #black widow #mutant!reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #jaws au #jc ink canons #jc inkworks #ink.nat #ib-jc.

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 2

Here is Chapter 2! I hope y'all like it!

Title: Succession Chapter 2

Characters: female reader, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, lycans, mentions of OC

Rating: PG-13 for images of gore, scenes of terror, possible kidnapping trigger warnings

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova has died and you are his sole beneficiary. You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It’s unusual how your senses come back to you when you regain consciousness after a trauma. You couldn’t see at first or maybe it was that your hearing arrived before you opened your eyes. It felt as if a pair of sound cancelling headphones were slowly pulled from your ears. Then followed your sense of touch. Blistering cold hit your skin and seemed to seep in and nestle into your bones. It felt sharp and painful against your cheek as if someone were drawing a scalpel across your flesh. Pain surged to the forefront and with that, you finally opened your eyes.

It was dark inside the cabin of the plane, the only light being the natural light shining through the damage to the hull. The window next to you was shattered and you felt cuts along your arm. The seatbelt had you secured to your seat and it was cutting into your stomach, adding to the all-over pain in your body. The air mask was still secure over your mouth. Lifting your hand shakily to remove the mask, you took in your surroundings.

The wind whipping outside the plane was the only thing you could hear. You listened for the voices of any passengers, whether they be whispers, cries, or shouts for help. It was as quiet as a tomb.

“Br-Bruce?” you whispered, looking towards his seat. The darkened plane made you strain your eyes in order to see him. His body was slumped away from you, his bottom half held still by his seat belt. You slowly reached for him and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you. His body slid against his seat before slumping towards you. His eyes were open. The air mask was over his mouth. You pulled the mask from his head to see if he was breathing. His mouth hung open. He was dead.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, your body beginning to shake. He was the only person you knew on this flight. You didn’t know what to do or who to call out for. “Hello?” you croaked as you lifted your head to look over the seat before you. Your throat was scratchy and sore from the cold air. “Can anyone hear me? Help!!” You were met with silence.

Surely someone had to be alive. You couldn’t be the sole survivor in this crash. Reaching down for the clasp of the seatbelt, you pressed the button and released yourself. You took one last look at Bruce’s lifeless body as you crawled over him and into the aisle. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, running your hand over the top of his head.

The plane was a mangled mess, suitcases and bags strewn everywhere from the impact. Bodies were in the aisle and tossed across seats and hanging over the armrests. “Is anyone alive?” you asked in a raised voice.

You stepped over bodies and suitcases, holding on to the seats on either side of you. The wind from outside blew into the cabin, blowing your hair around your face. You were freezing and quaking from the cold. The clothing you were wearing was not enough to keep you warm. Thankfully, you remembered the flight attendants taking coats at the beginning of the flight and placing them in a small closet towards the front of the plane. Finding the closet, you pried it open, finding the heaviest coat inside, and put it on.

Making your way towards an area that had been split open from the crash, you continued looking around for survivors. You listened closely for any voices, hoping and praying that someone else had survived.

Panic began to set in once you exited the plane. Snow coated the ground. Trees stood gangly and devoid of leaves. The clouds above were thick and vast, hiding any trace of sunlight. You looked around for houses or buildings...for any signs of life.

You trudged around the debris, searching for a path or road that could lead to civilization. The village that you had seen from the plane couldn’t be far from where the plane had crashed. Maybe you could knock on doors and use someone’s phone to call for help. Or the black box...every plane had a black box. Surely someone had been notified that the plane went down or where it disappeared from radar.

You continued walking around the plane, looking high and low for anything. The snow crushed under your shoes. You slipped and fell a few times from icy patches under the snow. Pulling the coat tighter around you, you shoved your hands into the pockets, rubbing your body to keep them warm.

As you were coming back around to where you had exited the plane, a noise came from inside. Suitcases rustled and fell over and you heard an audible grunt. Oh thank god, you thought, someone is alive! Perhaps someone finally regained consciousness and is trying to get out and get help. You ran around the plane and peered inside.

A man was hunched over a body, his clothing tattered and torn. He was pressing on the person’s chest, shaking the body, perhaps trying to perform CPR.

“Hey!” you called out to the man, your voice filled with hope and relief that you were not the only person that survived. The man stopped and slowly turned towards you.

What looked back at you was not the face of a survivor...or that of a human being. Tousled hair laid in a tangled heap on its head. The lips pulled back showing a row of jagged teeth. The eyes were devoid of anything that could be described as a soul. You listened as a low growl slipped from its mouth. Its mouth and hands were covered in blood and only then did it dawn on you that it was not performing CPR...it was feasting on the body.

“What the fuck?!?” you yelped, falling backwards in the snow. You scrambled away as the thing crawled from inside of the plane, advancing towards you. It let out a loud bark and a snarl, its eyes absolutely feral.

You jumped to your feet, turning to retreat and let out a loud scream. Two other things just like the one behind you blocked your escape. They were equally as terrifying...eyes, claws, fangs, and tattered clothing. What the hell were they??

You broke off to your right and ran towards the trees, hoping to lose them in the forest. A loud howl sounded from one of them and the other two snarled deep in their throats. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you ran as fast as your legs could take you. Adrenaline pumped throughout your body. You did not risk looking behind you for fear that it would hinder your escape.

The sound of their feet running in the sloshy snow began to increase and you knew they were getting closer. Oh god, oh god, they’re gonna kill me!

You saw a flash of something from the corner of your eye before feeling a large form shove into you and send you flying into a hill of snow. Rolling onto your back, you looked as a fourth monster stood before you, drool dripping from its teeth. It wrapped its hand around the tree next to it and stared you down.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!” you yelled. The other three that had been chasing you joined up with the fourth and you knew that you were no match for all of them. Your heart beat wildly and you were frozen with fear, not knowing when they were going to pounce. One of them lunged forward, its hand gripping your ankle. As it leered over you, it let out a howl...and you screamed.

“Stop!” a voice sounded from behind the beasts. All four creatures stopped and turned towards the voice, standing straight and obedient. They parted and allowed the person to approach.

Person...the thing that approached you was not a person, but also was not like the feral animals that had been chasing you. Your eyes went wide and your mouth dropped open as a hunchbacked figure started hobbling towards you and the creatures. A large black cloak covered its body. As it came closer, you noticed long, thin arms...a humped back with a rippled form...and thin legs that ambled slowly towards you. The creatures watched the thing walk past them and closer to you. The face was grotesque, jagged teeth sticking out from under gray lips. The skin was pale and appeared sickly. An intense odor of fish and sweat formed around it. You had to breathe through your mouth to keep from gagging.

“Are y-you okay?” the thing asked, hobbling closer to you. Panic and adrenaline still surged in your body and you crawled backwards to keep distance between the two of you. He noticed and stopped, slowly lifting his hands in front of him. “Don’t be sc-scared,” the thing stammered, “I won’t hu-hurt you. And the lycans...won’t hurt...you ei-either.”

You looked back at the four monsters that stood behind the hunchback. They stood still, snarling and breathing heavily. The wind rustled the hair on their heads. The thing before you took another step forward and held out his hand. “My name...is...Salvatore Moreau,” he said, beckoning you to take his hand.

You stood on your own, falling backwards a few steps in order to keep your distance. Moreau whimpered and bent forward, taking a step back in order to respect your boundaries. “I won’t touch...you...I don’t...w-want you to be...afraid of m-me…”

His words made you lessen your defenses a bit. He looked like a monster just like the wolf-like creatures behind him, but none of them advanced on you or tried to harm you. You finally found your voice.

“I was in a plane crash,” you murmured, unsure of what to do next, “I don’t think anyone else is alive…”

Moreau looked back towards the wreckage and then over at the things behind him. Upon seeing one of them covered in fresh blood, he turned back towards you. “My lycans...sm-smelled fresh blood...they always run...towards...fre-fresh blood…”

You winced at the man’s deformed figure and his stuttered ramblings. Who were these things? Where the fuck were you?

“Can you help me?” you asked warily, taking a step towards him, “is there a phone? Can we call for help?”

Moreau bent forward in a coughing fit and retched. Green vomit gushed from his mouth and into the white snow. Steam rose from the vomit and you couldn’t stop yourself from gagging and putting your hand over your mouth. He heaved a few more times before looking back at you. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “the fish...and my body...they don’t get a-along…”

What the fuck is going on, you thought. Was this an area that had fallen victim to radiation or poisoning in the water system? You tried to calculate in your mind how far away you were from Chernobyl...maybe what was going on here was similar to what went on there all those years ago.

“The only...ph-phone is at Alcina’s castle…” Moreau continued.

The castle?! The castle that you saw from overhead?! This was perfect! Maybe you could call for help and find your way to the embassy in this country and let them know that you were on a plane to Moldova. Surely the airline will wonder why their plane did not touch down at its destination and come looking for survivors.

“Can you take me to the castle, Mr. Moreau?” you asked, the first ounce of hope shining through.

“What the fuck is going on over here?!?!?!”

A gruff voice sounded from behind the lycans and all of you turned towards the sound. You watched as a man trudged through the snow, making his way over to the motley crew. He wore a black wide brimmed hat and a long brown trench coat with a tan shirt and brown pants underneath. A massive hammer sat across his shoulder with one hand gripping the long handle. The man’s gaze went from each lycan to Moreau...and finally resting on you.

“Well...who do we have here?” the man asked, pushing his way past Moreau. Upon closer inspection you saw that the man wore a pair of rounded lens sunglasses. You heard the clang of metal hanging around his neck as he moved closer. An amused smile spread across his mouth. You cleared your throat audibly.

“My name is Y/N and I was on the plane that crashed a few yards that way,” you murmured, pointing back towards the wreckage. Despite not being able to see his eyes from behind his sunglasses, you could feel his gaze. It was piercing, searching...as if he could see deep inside of you. It was equal parts unnerving and exhilarating, although you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

“Is that so?” the man asked, swinging his hammer around and setting it down in the snow. He stepped in front of you, holding out his hand. You kept your gaze on his face as you placed your hand in his. “My name is Karl Heisenberg,” he greeted, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss on the back of it. You shivered at his kiss, not knowing what came over you. It felt as if electrical charges flowed from his lips and down your skin, making your flesh erupt in goose bumps.

“Poor little pussycat,” Heisenberg remarked, looking you up and down, “the wreckage looks unbelievable. You must be positively traumatized…”

You nodded your head and lowered your hand back to your side. A gust of wind shook you to your core and you tightened the coat around yourself. “Umm...yes...Mr. Moreau here was telling me that there was a phone nearby...we could call for help…”

Heisenberg slowly turned his gaze back towards Moreau. You looked past him and saw that the deformed man cowered under Heisenberg’s gaze, taking a step backwards as if contemplating fleeing. Heisenberg turned back to you and flashed you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, my dear,” Heisenberg said, reaching to pick up his hammer, “come with me and we will surely find aid and assistance in the village…”

“We could ask Mother…” Moreau began, taking a step towards you and Heisenberg.

“Shut up, you freak!” Heisenberg snapped at Moreau. Your jaw dropped as you looked between the two men. Moreau bowed his head and retreated a few steps. You felt sorry for the poor man as you looked up at Karl Heisenberg and started to feel disdain for the man. Moreau was about to offer advice and was met with hostility. The poor man was not pleasant to look at, sure, but from what you could tell, he was harmless and seemed sincere and ready to help. You would sooner ask for Moreau’s help than Heisenberg’s help at that point.

“Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg,” you began, “but Moreau was telling me of a phone in a castle not far from here that I could use…” But as you were about to continue, Heisenberg held his hand up to silence you.

“Forgive me for my brash tone,” Heisenberg interrupted, “but my brother here does not know what he is talking about. Please, if you would accompany me to my factory, I have a working telephone there that you can use…”

You felt a growing sliver of fear in the pit of your stomach. The man before you was charismatic and confident, but there was something off about him.

“I think I’ll follow Moreau…” you murmured, moving around Heisenberg to go to Moreau. A sudden movement and Heisenberg’s gloved hand wrapped around your arm, stopping your retreat.

“Oh, no, ma’am...I insist you come with me…” Heisenberg growled.

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp, but his fingers only tightened. His grip began to hurt. “Let go of me,” you said, trying to pull away. He jerked your body closer to him as he looked down into your frightened face.

“There is no use arguing or putting up a fight, pussycat,” Heisenberg leered, “you’re coming with me…” And with that, he released your arm and swiftly wrapped his arm around your waist, hauling you against him, and walked back from where he came.

“MOREAU!” you screamed as Heisenberg marched away with you in tow. Heisenberg turned towards the man and shot him a murderous glare. “You keep your mouth shut about this…” he spat at Moreau, “...not a fucking word or I’ll kill you…” The hunchback only nodded and bowed his head.

“STOP! LET GO!! MOREAU!” you shouted, wriggling against Heisenberg’s grip on your waist. The feeble man only stood there helpless, looking down at the snow. His lycans began their retreat, disappearing into the forest.

“I’m sorry,” you heard Moreau whimper as Heisenberg dragged you off.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic

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atinymonster · 3 years

Text

drunk baby monster

ateez 9th member.

when jiyu turns twenty and chaos ensues during her first time trying alcohol.

inspired by a lovely anon’s ask hehe ✨✨ and this all happened on jiyu’s birthday this year (march 15th)!! i had midterms around the time so i totally lost track of jiyu’s birthday 🤧🤧

⚠️: mentions of alcohol

➴ taglist: @banhmi07, @jiyeons-closet, @jaeminpeachy, @mochibabycakes, @euphoriamingi, @marsophilia, @studioreader, @goddessofdestructionbeast, @dkdlwhs12

➴ masterlist

Jiyu warily eyed the soju bottle in front of her before her eyes flicked to the men sitting around her on the couch.

“I know I asked this at least ten times already within the last half an hour, but are you sure this is a good idea?”

Wooyoung whined, shimmying closer to her before giving her his best puppy eyes. “You have us in case something goes wrong!”

“What do you mean if something goes wrong?!” she asked, not feeling at all reassured for this first experience.

She trusted them, she really did, but did she trust herself or her unknown alcohol tolerance level? No, she really didn’t.

“If you don’t want to try, don’t feel pressured, Ji,” Seonghwa reassured, patting her head.

“No!” she denied, slightly startling herself with how loud she was, “It’s not that I don’t want to try it, as embarrassing as it sounds, I’ve always wanted to try drinking soju the day I’m of legal age,” she sheepishly explained what used to be a childish wish of her’s.

“But I’m just embarrassed about what could happen when and if I get drunk...”

There were endless possibilities of what drunk her could potentially do—she could accidentally fire off embarrassing Universe private messages to ATINY, or just drunkenly interact with ATINY in general, or she could babble about the most random things in the world while crying or laughing, and the list goes on.

And she just knew Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang were ready with their phones to record the momentous occasion and not let her live it down for the next few years.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve all done some embarrassing things when we were drunk at least once in our lives,” Hongjoong reassured with a chuckle. Despite turning twenty, Jiyu was still such a little baby to them.

“It can’t be like Yeosang hyung where he started texting the group chat about how much he loves us before texting out the ponytail song,” Jongho reminded, snickering at the horrified and betrayed look said man gave him.

“I thought we all mutually agreed to forget that ever happened!” he hissed.

“That actually did make me feel better though,” Jiyu admitted, ignoring Yeosang’s pleas about wiping that memory from her head.

Sighing, she reached towards the bottle before slowly filling the shot glass. “All right, if I do anything embarrassing, please do me a huge favor and just forget it happened. Otherwise it’s moving out of the country for me.”

San snorted at how dramatic she was. Surely she wouldn’t do anything too embarrassing; it was Jiyu they were talking about—the one member that sometimes acted like the oldest despite being the youngest, and the one that often times held the few braincells they all shared.

But he had never been so wrong.

They found out she had a decent tolerance level, but that was where she went wrong. At some point along the way, she overestimated herself and had gotten just a tad bit too tipsy.

“Okay, we’re taking these away,” Hongjoong stepped in when she started giggling and hiccuping in the middle of her sentences. Taking the two soju bottles and shot glass, he and the other six were shocked when she started to whine.

They’ve never heard that sound come out of her mouth in all of the time they’ve known her. It was like a child whining when their mother took away their favorite toy.

“Someone please tell me they got that on recording,” Wooyoung stifled his laughter as he watched their maknae be reduced to a giggly mess at the hands of too much alcohol.

“I got it!” San proudly chirped, having been recording since her fourth shot. “She’s so going to kill us for this, though...”

“Did I ever...mention that...Seonghwa gives the best hugs?” she slurred, falling onto said man and hugging onto him.

Seonghwa had no idea how to handle a drunk Jiyu—he just returned her embrace while the others hooted, laughed, or just awed at how different she had become.

“So she’s a cute drunk,” Yunho concluded, chuckling when she started playing with and petting his hair. “You never see her like this on a daily basis.”

“It’s endearing, yet freaking hilarious,” Yeosang snorted, swatting her hand away when she started to reach for her phone. He had been in charge of keeping her away from the device since she didn’t want to accidentally drunk call or text anyone, especially ATINY.

Suddenly, Hongjoong gasped before shooting up from his spot on the couch. “We still have schedules and practice for Kingdom tomorrow! Why did we let her drink tonight of all nights?!” he whisper–shouted.

And that’s where they all knew they had royally screwed up. Schedules for the next day had completely left their minds when celebrating their maknae’s birthday.

“It’s okay! Maybe if she drinks enough water, she’ll just...flush it out of her system,” Yunho offered before standing up and running into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

Meanwhile, Jiyu started to develop little hiccups, something the boys found extremely adorable despite their earlier panicking. The red flush across her cheeks also added to the cuteness.

“And have I ever told you guys,” she started, slightly tripping over her words due to her hazy mind, “I love you this much!” Dragging out the word ‘this’ she proceeded to draw out a huge circle with her arms before falling back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

“I shouldn’t be thinking this otherwise Jiyu will actually slap me into next week, but we should get her to drink on our days off a little more,” Wooyoung snorted as he tried to help her sit upright before steadying her.

“I got water!” Yunho announced, coming back out and carefully handing her the glass. “Alright, please hold with both hands so you don’t spill, baby monster.”

The two older ones couldn’t help but grow soft at how adorable she was, holding the glass cup with both hands like a little kid before bringing it up to her lips and drinking up the water.

“It’s hard to believe she turned twenty,” Seonghwa commented, adoring eyes watching the way she placed the cup back onto the table before looking around for someone to hug.

“Yunyun!” she called out to the group’s giant teddy bear, holding her arms out and looking up at him expectantly. Yunho had no complaints—he enjoyed hugs from her, as well as giving her hugs.

“We need to get her to bed soon. Hopefully she can sleep off the hangover, too,” Jongho noted, seeing as it was way past the time they should be sleeping during promotion weeks. They had to wake up again in a few hours, and yet here they were, one tipsy while the others were watching over her.

“One of us should sleep in the spare bed in her room tonight in case she needs something,” San suggested. Yunho volunteered considering how tight she was holding onto him.

“Yay! Sleepover with Yun!” she cheered before letting out a small hiccup. Yunho giggled and patted the girl’s head.

“Alright, take these water bottles with you and let’s tuck this baby into bed,” Hongjoong handed Yunho three water bottles, and they all brought her to her room to coax her to sleep.

“Please don’t have a hangover tomorrow, baby monster,” Wooyoung teased, poking her forehead before bringing the comforter up to her chin. “Otherwise you’ll really be a baby monster tomorrow...”

Snuggling into the cool comforter, Jiyu pulled it up farther so it covered her mouth. “Who’s...baby monster?” she wobbly asked.

“You are,” Yeosang answered, discreetly plugging the charger into her phone and leaving it on the nightstand. “A twenty-year-old baby monster.”

Leaving her phone on the nightstand would prove to be the worst mistake Yeosang could’ve made that night when Wooyoung’s horrified shriek woke everyone up a few hours later.

“Guys we’re so screwed! She called Sunwoo, she’s actually going to kill us for not stopping her!”

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sqoiler · 3 years

Text

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue.

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?”

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors.

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand.

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms.

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper.

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school.

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work.

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman.

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards.

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says.

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead.

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that.

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol.

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure.

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish.

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards!

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?”

Steph whirls around.

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen.

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house.

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says.

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him.

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her.

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him.

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says.

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react.

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully.

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back.

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

#(posts fathers day fic in december)#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #brotp: slap #my writing #long post

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frankiekatt · 3 years

Text

My Ghost (Part 1)

Characters: Denki Kaminari

Notes: Ghost AUs fuel my soul so I had to write one myself. This will be a 3 part series!

Warnings: Mentions of death!

Words: 4K

Synopsis: Denki knew deep down any outcome would just lead to disaster and sorrow. After all, he was a dead man who never aged and who could never leave this house. And you - you were the complete opposite. You were a living, breathing girl with your whole life ahead of you.

Being alone in a brand new house with all its creaks and groans was definitely not your idea of a perfect summer. If you had gotten a choice in the matter, you would have gladly followed your two best friends to Costa Rica, or went vacationing with your father to Greece, or visited your grandmother in Hong Kong. Anything but being stuck home alone in a brand new house that didn’t even have all of your furniture in it yet.

But sadly, your mother had finally decided to get married to her long-time boyfriend, and the two of them had made the exciting decision to honeymoon in America all summer. Which meant that you would be cat-sitting for your new step-father’s tabby, Charles, in the new family house. All summer. All by yourself.

The house that your mother and new step-father had moved the three of you into was a two-story brick building with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a small library on the second floor. The real estate agent that had sold your family the house had explained that no one had lived in this house for over 30 years, due to a death taking place in the upstairs attic, which creeped you out a bit, but your parents were quick to put down a down-payment on the house due to the unusually low price.

Now, for the next three months, this house would be a constant for you. That, and the black and grey tabby you were now responsible for.

Though, there was one more thing that would be in your presence for the remainder of the summer. You were not yet aware of the blonde boy’s presence in your house, but he was very aware of yours.

The very first day you and your family had moved in, Denki was completely smitten with you. He hadn’t seen a girl in this house that wasn’t over the age of 45 and trying to sell this place in well over 30 years. And definitely not a girl this cute.

He watched you explore the house, following behind you as you went from room to room, admiring the paintings his mother had hung on the walls years ago or inspecting the oak cabinets in the kitchen with a curious look in your pretty eyes.

Denki adored you. He watched every night as you and your two parents unpacked boxes in every room. He watched every night as you decorated your room - which was once his - with posters and drawings and hung up your clothes in the small closet on the right side of your room. On the third day, while you were downstairs with your mother, Denki decided to look through all the clothes you had hung up the night before. Most of the articles of clothing were sweaters and hoodies with a couple dresses and skirts here and there.

That’s how you dressed normally, Denki observed. Always in a hoodie or sweater with shorts or jeans. Denki thought it was odd at first, as it was the beginning of June and the sun was scorching. But the more Denki watched you, the more he found you absolutely adorable.

Denki hadn’t felt the touch of another human being since the day he died in his attic, and seeing you walk around his house each day, bundled up in big hoodies and sweaters, made him want to touch you more than anything. You just looked so soft. On the fourth night, after you had already gone to bed, Denki decided he was going to touch you. Just a little, just on your cheek. Nothing too creepy or too serious to wake you up.

You looked so pretty when you were sleeping. Your eyes were closed, which meant they couldn’t hold that annoyed look you seemed to perpetually have whenever your parents would talk about leaving for the summer. Your brows were rested, no longer drawn together in irritation. You looked completely and utterly peaceful.

Denki reached out towards your face, hand shaking like a leaf. He hadn’t touched another human in so long, and here you were, right in front of him, unconscious, vulnerable, smooth and soft. Denki had forgotten what human flesh felt like, so when he brushed the back of his fingers against your cold cheek, he almost jumped away.

Almost.

You felt like spring to him; growth, new beginnings, blossoming, life. You felt like everything Denki had been longing for for over thirty years - hell, even before then. He had only touched you with two fingers, and he already felt like fate had pulled him into its eventful little game. It was frightening to him, how many emotions were drifting in and out of his chest all at once.

He didn’t know you. The only thing he knew about you was your name and he only learned that four days ago. And yet, he here was, standing in his - your- bedroom, watching you sleep, falling in love with everything about you.

You stirred slightly at his touch, which made Denki jerk away. He quickly made himself invisible to the human eye once more and stepped away from your bedside before your eyes opened slowly.

Your room was unusually chilly. You got cold fairly easily, so you often kept the temperature of your room higher than normal, but now it felt like someone had left your window open during a frigid winter night. Sitting up, you pulled the large red hooding off the side of your headboard and slipped it over your t-shirt. Why is it so fucking cold?

Your bedside clock read 3:33am, which meant you only had a couple hours until your mother and step-father left for their 7am flight. Soon, you would be all alone in this house, in a new town, with no one to keep you company other than the fluffy grey cat that was currently sleeping at the foot of your bed. You were now wide awake and freezing cold, so you saw no point in trying to fall back asleep for a measly few hours, so you decided to explore the one room in this house you hadn’t quite gotten to see yet; the library.

The library was exactly as the real estate agent had said it was; completely untouched since the last family moved out. It was a small room, filled with one desk in the center, and two wide bookshelves attached to each wall. There were papers and notebooks littering the mahogany desk, as well as envelopes and wax stamps. The room smelt of dust and pine and was colder than your bedroom had been a couple minutes ago. Still, you ventured into the dark room, stopping by the large desk to turn on the small lamp that sat at its edge.

Light filled the room, showing off the rows upon rows of books that decorated the large brown bookshelves. Some books were very old, such as ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’, and some were not so old, such as a couple of Louis Duncan novels. Some of the books, as you saw, you had read, and most of them you had not. You spotted one of your favorite novels on the south wall bookshelf, and shuffled towards it to look over the dusty cover. Before you could grab the spine of the book, however, something caught your eye.

Something very human-like, and it was definitely not one of your parents.

He was only visible for half a second before he seemed to just cease to exist before your eyes. In that half a second though, you were apple to make out spiky blond hair, and piercing yellow eyes that were staring directly at you.

A scream rose in your throat, but you were able to choke it down before it could escape and wake everyone up. There was no one else in the room but you. You whipped your head around, scanning every corner of the room for the blonde boy who had just been right by your side moments ago, gazing at you. But there was nothing. No mysterious boy in the library, or out in the hall. Maybe the lack of a full night’s rest had you seeing things. Yes, that had to be it.

But Denki knew the truth. He had gotten distracted by you for not even a second, and had managed to make himself visible to you. He knew the second your eyes had widened in fear, that you had spotted him. Denki’s heart leaped out of his chest as he quickly made himself invisible and backed away from you. You were now looking around frantically, terror written all over your face. In the midst of back away from you quietly, Denki accidentally bumped into the large wooden desk, sending papers flying to the floor.

The sound of a thud and the fact that papers were now drifting downwards as if someone had picked up a stack and threw them on the floor had you second guessing if you were just imagining things.

No fucking way, you thought. You weren’t exactly a non-believer of the supernatural, but you had never in your life imagined that you would encounter anything non-human. The thought of it almost made you laugh as you stood frozen in fear. This was just ridiculous. Okay, so maybe you had thought you had seen a boy standing next to you and the next second he was gone, and maybe something made a loud noise and a stack of papers coincidentally fell to the floor. That did not mean that there was a ghost or a demon or some kind of invisible man in your house. Did it?

Denki decided to let you know it did, in fact, mean that. Making himself invisible to the human eye for four days straight had drained him of almost all of his energy, and you had already seen him and heard him twice. So, fuck it.

The scream that you had been keeping bay for the last 60 seconds had finally decided to rip free. There was the blonde boy again - standing right in front of you. A minute ago, he had been more translucent and blurry, but now you could see him clearly. This thing you were seeing was a tall blonde boy with yellow eyes, wearing all black. He was cute. But he was also someone who could disappear and reappear in a matter of seconds, and that was not what normal cute boys do.

You were screaming and backing yourself up against the wall, trying desperately to make yourself as small as possible so this magical invisible blonde boy would leave you alone.

“No! Shh! Stop, it’s okay, everything is okay! Please stop screaming!”

The fact that the blonde boy was now speaking to you, made you even more afraid. You inhaled deeply, preparing to let out another scream, hoping one of your parents would wake up and come save you, but the blonde boy lurched forward and clamped a hand down on your mouth before you could make another sound.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

His golden eyes were boring into yours, begging you to stay quiet. The urge to scream slowly dissipated as you realized this boy’s body was pressed against yours - this incredibly cute boy was pressing himself against you.

“I’m gonna take my hand away, okay?” The boy whispered. His eyes were just as wide as yours.

You nodded slowly at him, which prompted the blonde boy to let his hand slip away from your lips, inch by inch. Once your mouth was completely free, Denki took a step back to allow you to catch your breath.

“Alright, so, you probably have some questions.” He chuckled nervously.

Without meeting his gaze, you pushed yourself off the wall and nodded. Uh, yeah I have questions. Why are you in my house? How are you in my house? What exactly are you?

“Well,” he started slowly, “My name’s Denki. I, um, I used to live here.”

“Live here? So, what, you're mad I’m in your house or something and you’ve come to magically take it back or something?”

He shook his head and focused his gaze on his feet. “No, that’s not it. I kind of still live here, just not by my choice.”

What the blonde boy - Denki - said, seemed to ignite a memory in the back of your mind. The real estate agent had told you and your family that there had been a death in the house over 30 years ago - a boy who got electrocuted in the attic. The fact that Denki could make himself visible and invisible at will, clicked everything into place.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Y-your d-dead.” Your hands were now trembling.

Denki looked up at that moment. His eyes were sad and bleak, which almost made you feel bad for stating the obvious.

“That’s right,” Denki lamented. “I’m dead.”

* * *

You spent the next three and a half hours cautiously speaking to Denki, processing the fact that you were conversing with a ghost in the creepy library of your new home.

Denki explained to you that he had died on November 11th, 1989, in the attic of this house when he attempted to set up a couple extension cords for his tv he liked to play video games on during a storm, and ended up electrocuting himself. Denki didn’t seem too upset describing the day he died to you, but he did start to shed tears when he choked out how he had to watch his parents fall apart in the halls of this house over his death. He cried as he remembered how they finalized the divorce a year after his death, and put the house up for sale. Denki weeped when he looked back on the day when his eternal loneliness began. When his parents left him in this big, cold house all alone. Dead and lonely.

Once he was finished telling his story, he quickly wiped his tears away and smiled as brightly as he could at you, trying to hide his sorrow. “So,” he drawled. “What about you? What’s your story?”

You felt silly, sitting on the floor of the library, telling a dead boy the story of how your parents split when you were 12 due to an affair your mother was having with her now-husband, and how your dad decided to travel the world instead of wallowing in his heart break. You told Denki that living with your mother and her new boyfriend who had ruined your parents’ marriage was hard at first, but gradually became easier the more you realized what a nice guy your mother’s now-husband was. He was awkward around you, but always polite, and he seemed to be infatuated with your mother. Though you hated to admit it, you saw love between your mother and her boyfriend that you never saw between your mother and your father.

Denki reached out to hold your hands in his when your voice began to waver when speaking of your mother and father. It was a hard topic to talk about for you, but Denki’s cool hands gave you comfort.

You both shared stories of your childhoods, your favorite memories, what you both were like when you were younger. As 6 ‘o cock rolled around, you had forgotten that you were chatting and laughing with the ghost of an 18 year old boy. It was a strangely nice feeling. You had just discovered that ghosts were real, and now you were making friends with one. Denki was nice and funny and his infectious laugh had managed to pull a smile from you numerous times throughout the three hours you sat talking to him about anything and everything.

While Denki was rattling on about his favorite foods and how much he missed eating them, a thought popped into your head. “Denki,” you started, “have you been watching us for the past four days?”

Denki blinked at you before grinning and nodding furiously. “Yep! The way you dance while folding laundry is super cute by the way!” His favorite thing to do at night was watching you blast music from your phone and dance around your room while folding fresh laundry.

A slight blush coated your cheeks. “So, did you...see everything I did then?”

Oh. That.

Denki instantly knew what you were referring to. On the third night of staying in your new house, you had waited till both of your parents had gone to bed before locking your bedroom door and slipping into bed. Denki had been sitting in your computer chair at that time, leisurely watching you go about your room for the past half hour. The moment you had fallen into your bed though, made Denki shoot to his feet with a tomato red face.

You had slipped your delicate hand into the waistband of your night shorts. It had been several weeks since you had had a chance to release any of your stress in any type of form, and tonight you were alone, horny, and frustrated. Your small fingers were now stuffed inside your cunt, moving in and out in an attempt to relieve yourself, and Denki was unable to look away. He knew he shouldn’t be watching this - watching you - but he couldn’t make himself leave, couldn’t make himself respect your privacy.

You looked so helpless and so cute sprawled out on your bed, hand moving around in your shorts, your wet lips letting out soft little mewls. Denki felt utterly disgusting as he slipped his own hand into the waistband of his jeans to knead himself at the sight of you. He wanted more than anything to make himself known to you, to touch you, to tell you he had practically fallen in love with you the first time he saw you and you should let him pleasure you instead.

Denki had to settle for fucking his fist to the sound of your moans, unfortunately. He could almost imagine how wet and tight and how good you would feel around him. He hoped someday soon, he would get to be the one forcing moans out of your mouth instead of your own fingers. He hoped soon, he would be able to kiss your neck as he fucked into you, reaching his high. He really, really hoped that he would be able to release inside you, stuffing you full of his cum, of his passion, of his love.

Denki’s face flushed at your revelation. He had just revealed himself to you, and had managed to get you to stay and talk to him for hours - he did not want to ruin it by admitting to violating your privacy in the worst way possible.

“I know you watched me that night,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I-I think I heard you. H-heard you moaning.”

Denki didn’t think his face could reach a higher temperature. He wanted to say something - anything - but was completely stuck watching you stutter and blush, his own mouth glued shut.

“I thought I was just imagining it, that I was fantasizing about something like that. But I wasn’t, was I? It was you in my room that night. Watching me.”

Your voice wasn’t the least bit defensive, nor was there any trace of accusation on your face. Shouldn’t you be angry at him? Shouldn’t you be yelling at him in embarrassment? Calling him a pervert?

But you weren’t. You looked flustered for sure, but not like you felt violated in any way. In fact, the thought of Denki watching you touching yourself - touching himself at the sight of you - made you feel good. Denki was extremely attractive to you, and it was thrilling to know that he thought the same of you.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N.” This was humiliating. What if you never wanted to talk to him again because of this? What would he do then? “I never meant to do that sort of thing! I j-just, I don’t know, you looked so pretty and I had already come to like you so much that I just-”

Watching Denki fumble with his words in an effort to not upset you was almost laughable. You didn’t want nor need an apology from him. You liked that he had watched you. That he had touched himself to you.

That’s why you were now kissing him. He had begun to stutter and raise his voice so much that the only way you saw fit to quiet him was to press your lips against his. His lips were smooth and full and cold to the touch just like his hands were. Your sudden intrusion shocked Denki so much that he almost forgot to kiss you back. He hadn’t kissed anyone since he was 12 years old, and even then, the girl who kissed him was only acting on a dare and had laughed in his face before running away after taking his first kiss. Now, he had you pressed against him, your lips dancing upon his in the gentlest way possible.

When he began to reciprocate the kiss, Denki could have sworn he saw ‘the light’ everyone talked about seeing when they died. It was beautiful and warm and exciting and it was all you. You slipped an arm around his neck to tug him closer and deepen the kiss, which incited a soft groan from Denki’s throat. Breathing had become a distant memory for the both of you; all that mattered in that moment was claiming each other’s lips.

“Y/N,” your mother called from downstairs. You both jumped away from each other at your mother’s voice, panting heavily, lips swollen.

“What, mom?” Why did she have to be awake now?

“We’re leaving in a few minutes, sweetie! Please come down here!”

For fucks sake. You knew you should go down there and bid her farewell. She would be gone for three months, after all. But Denki’s presence made everything else in your life seem so small. You had only just met him, only kissed him once, and now it felt like he was invading your mind and making a permanent home in your brain. “Alright! I’m coming!”

You turned back towards Denki who had a goofy grin on his face. “So you do like me back?”

You scoffed, letting your hair fall in front of your face to hide the redness that was blossoming across it. “Shut up. You’re just kind of cute. That’s all” A complete lie.

Denki leaned forward and took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Well,” he said, “I like you. And I want to do that again, if that’s okay?”

A slight smile found its way on your lips. You were about to take him up on his offer before your mother shouted back up at you to hurry down. Denki smiled at you and said, “Go, before she comes up here and catches you making out with a ghost.”

Tearing yourself away from him was surprisingly hard. You felt compelled to stay with Denki like that, centimeters apart, lingering in your own little bubble. But he was right. Your mother was starting to sound agitated. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Denki nodded at you encouragingly, and watched as you rushed out of the room and down the stairs. His smile quickly fell from his lips once you were gone.

You had kissed him. And he had kissed you back. Denki wasn’t sure what this meant, but he was secretly hoping it would continue.

Though, even with that hope, Denki knew deep down any outcome would just lead to disaster and sorrow. After all, he was a dead man who never aged and who could never leave this house. And you - you were the complete opposite. You were a living, breathing girl with your whole life ahead of you.

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kaitycole · 3 years

Text

dopamine and epinephrine, just don’t mix

Summary: Kuroo thinks back on his relationship with Y/N. How will those memories hold up to reality?

Pairing: Kuroo x fem!reader, Bokuto x fem!reader (platonic)

Word Count: 5351

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behaviors. Cheating allegations. Adult language.

A/N: A special thank you to @twilightwrites for this prompt.

Side note: I know the drinking age in Japan is 20, I realized as I was writing the last paragraph of this that I messed up, so we are just gonna let it slide because my head hurts lol

September – 2013

“Kuroo-san, do you understand what I’ve just explained?” He just nods, the meaning of the words is known, it’s just the weight of them that just hasn’t hit him yet. It not until he’s walking across campus, his feet dragging against the sidewalk, that the weight of his advisor’s words land on his shoulders.

You failed to maintain proper grades to continue not just in this department, but in this university. Your enrollment has been terminated.

Kuroo shakes his head, how exactly would he explain this to his grandmother? She was so proud of him for getting into university in the first place. He really was great at disappointing those he cared for lately.

* * The sidewalks are busier than he’s used to, he was always in class at this time and he ends up brushing against a few people as he maneuvers his way to the nearest convenience store. The dinging of the welcome bell draws him from the jumble of thoughts he was having. The cool air from the refrigerated unit, grabbing several cans of lemon flavored chūhai. It was cheap, didn’t taste all that great, but he didn’t care.

There are three empty cans piled next to his foot, his hand tightens around the fourth one, it caves under his fingertips. The blend of alcohol on an empty stomach has Kuroo on the verge of tipsiness.

He hears a soft laugh and feels himself stiffen when he sees (h/c) hair as his mind blanks. It’s been almost a year since he’s seen her, a flash of the malice words exchanged and the sound the door made as it was slammed crosses his mind.

Suddenly he’s self-conscious of how he looks, quickly running his fingers through his unruly hair (not that that would help) and scrabbles to pick the cans up and cram them into his bag. He doesn’t fully hear the name, but enough to know it wasn’t her, making him feel a bit ridiculous.

Dopamine: hormone and neurotransmitter that's an important part of your brain's reward system; associated with happiness and pleasure.

June – 2010

“Can you tell me where Ko-chan is?”

Kuroo turned to see an unfamiliar face staring back up at him. She tucked a stray piece of her (h/c) hair behind her ear, nervously biting her bottom lip, and Kuroo instantly thought she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. So much, that instead of answering her, he just stood there, staring.

“Bokuto-san is this way, L/N-san.” Akaashi said as he walked up behind her.

She smiled at Kuroo, apologizing for bothering him before following Akaashi over to where the rowdy ace of Fukurōdani was. Once Bokuto’s eyes fell onto the girl, he ran towards her, wrapping her into a tight hug, thanking her repeatedly for bringing his extra gym bag all the way to the training camp.

Kuroo waited until Bokuto was alone before he made his way over, trying to figure out how to work in his question. “Bokuto, who is that?” Bo looked over to Akaashi who was talking to this mystery girl before looking back at Kuroo with a sloppy grin on his face. “Why? Interested?”

Kuroo felt his head getting fuzzy, like when he held it over the edge of his bed for too long, “I was…uhm…just wondering.”

“That’s Y/N. We grew up together, but in fifth grade she moved away, just recently moved back.”

That explained why Kuroo didn’t know her even though her and Bo came off extremely close.

“She’s single.”

Kuroo felt his face start to burn, embarrassment covering it as he tried to speak, but all that came out were broken parts of a sentence. “Oh, well…I don’t…bother…just…yeah.”

** Y/N was standing in the doorway of the gym, watching as Bokuto hit down each practice set Akaashi sent his way, he truly had gotten even more powerful since they were children. She rubbed her hands against her arms, trying to warm up, she tensed when she felt a slight bit of weight on her shoulders.

She turned around to see a messy raven-haired boy standing behind her, his oversized red jacket draped over her shoulders. “Rooster boy!”

“Huh?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to really respond.

“Ko-chan told me to call you that.” She smiled up innocently at Kuroo and he felt himself get weak in the knees.

He mumbled something to the effect of ‘horned owl bastard’ underneath his breath which seemed to make her laugh just a little bit. He ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about the state of his hair.

She turned back around, eyes wide in awe as Bokuto slammed another ball onto the other side of the court, Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like if she looked at him like that, but blocking wasn’t as flashy as spikes were and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He turned around on his heel, getting ready to head back to where the rest of his team is.

“Are you trying to play hard to get?” “Huh?” He looked back at her, she had spun around, a devilish smirk on her smirk.

“You gave me your jacket even though you only have a t-shirt on, but you don’t tell me your name or ask if I want go somewhere to talk.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to watch Bo play, I…uh…didn’t want to bother you.”

She slipped her arms into his jacket, zipping it up, “nah, I can see Bo play at school.”

“Did you want to go talk somewhere?” “I don’t go places with strangers.” She tilted her head, giving him a knowing look.

He shook his head, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurō, nice to meet you…?” “L/N F/N. Likewise Tetsu-chan!” She grabbed his hand, “c’mon, let’s go!”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as his feet moved on their own, following this mystery girl and he already knew that he was gonna have his hands full, not that he really cared.

* * December – 2010

“Y/N?”

The two of them were in Kuroo’s room, something they did often on the weekends, sometimes working on school work, other times just enjoying each other’s company. She’s flipping through a magazine, her chin rested on her palms as she looked over her shoulder at the middle blocker, a smile on her face. Kuroo was leaning against his headboard and couldn’t help but forget what he was about to say.

“Tetsu-chan?”

“Are you a carbon sample?” He smirked when she gave him a puzzled look, “because I want to date you.” Her face lit up as she pushed herself up, sitting up while crossing her legs as she faced Kuroo. “Oh! Oh! Oh! I have one too!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “you look sweeter than 3.14!”

He laughed before he shook his head, “no, Y/N, I’m asking you out.”

“You’re asking me out using a science pun?” His face went completely red, cheek burned as he rubbed the back of his head. “…yeah.”

“You’re such a dork!” She started laughing, falling over to the side as her giggles filled the now empty room. When she finally composed her, wiping the tears that had fallen down her cheeks, she smiled up at him, “but I guess that means you’re my dork.” “That a yes?” Kuroo held his breath, worried that she was about to reject him because looking back on it, it was kinda lame, even for him.

She crawled up to Kuroo side, leaning into it as he wrapped his arm around her waist, “it’s a proton positive?”

* * September – 2013

Kuroo staggers up the stairs, thankful that he only lives on the second floor of his apartment building. He drops his bag near the door while he kicks off his shoes as he makes his way to the closet in his room.

The apartment is pretty bare for someone to be living there. The furniture that’s there is just what’s needed, the bare minimum through the apartment. A bed and night stand in the bedroom, couch and TV in the living room area and the only reason he had a TV stand was because Kenma almost had a heart attack when he saw Kuroo had it sitting on the floor.

Y/N was supposed to decorate it, that had been their deal when the subject of moving in together came up. The plan was to get an apartment between the universities they had planned to attend and she could decorate it however she wanted, all Kuroo cared about was getting to come home to her. But it was obvious that day never happened, they didn’t even make it searching for apartments together before things fell apart and Kuroo picked an apartment closest to his school.

He’s rummaging through the bedroom closet before pulling out an old tin box, the kind that trading cards come in. Wiping off the thin layer of dust that has accumulated on the top, he slowly opens it, a flood of emotions washes over him.

* * March – 2011

“Y/N seems really happy.” Bo said, the three of them had all met up to see a movie that recently released.

Kuroo was happy that his girlfriend and best friend were also close, it made things a lot easier and he didn’t have to worry about them getting along, even if they had technically known each other longer. “I hope she is, I’d do anything for her.”

“What are you two whispering about?” She snuck up behind them, popcorn in hand, placing her chin on Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Guy stuff.”

“Laaame!” She shook her head, walking towards the theatre where their movie was playing, “we’re gonna miss the trailers!”

** “Where to next?” She looked between the boys, eager to keep their night going.

“I should probably head back, I don’t want to worry my grandparents.” Kuroo glanced at the time on his phone, he knew the movie might run late but he didn’t think they’d be out this late. He felt bad as he watched her face drop, clearly not the answer she was expecting.

“Yeah, it is getting a bit late.” Bokuto agreed with a slight shrug.

Y/N dragged her feet along the sidewalk, her shoulder dropped which caused both boys to share a look.

“Is this about what we talked about earlier?” Bokuto asked, pulling her into a side hug.

Kuroo looked between them, curiosity filling him as he tries to think if she told him anything that was bothering her, but he can’t. “What did you two talk about?” She shook her head, “it’s nothing.” She looked up at him, giving him a small straight smile.

Part of him wanted to ask her again, to get her to open up and talk to him about it because it was bothering her then it bothers him, but he didn’t. He tried to find comfort in the fact that at least she could tell Bo about it, at least she had someone, but it still hurt that that someone wasn’t him.

* * May – 2011

It had bothered Kuroo for weeks now that it seemed Y/N was confiding more and more into Bokuto that she was him. He was her boyfriend, he was the one she should be going to, right? Then why was she continuously going to their friend?

His irritation started to splinter into other aspects of his life, tests that he should’ve passed he didn’t, blocks he should’ve made he missed, but the boiling point came when Fukurōdani played Nekoma and she came decked out in Fukurōdani colors, cheerfully talking to Bo and his team. He knew it shouldn’t bug him like it was, she attended that school, but what still pissed him off were the comments he heard as they walked by the team.

Comments from other team members and what seemed like potential classmates of theirs repeatedly saying different variations of how cute her and Bo looked together, what a great couple they’d make and the way that she would hang onto Bo’s side.

The game was long, Kuroo spend half the game lost in his anger and the other half moving on auto-pilot as his body seemed to move on its own. Somehow Nekoma ended up winning, but that didn’t change the way he felt as he practically stormed off the court towards the locker room. He understood how important Bo was to her, that they were best friends and had been for longer than he knew either of them, but that didn’t alleviate the anger that radiated off of his shoulders nor did it stop him from slamming the doors he walked through.

“Tetsu-chan!”

He didn’t stop, just continued to walk down the hallway and toward the main entrance, acting as though he’s the only one there.

“Tetsu-chan!” She reached out, pulling his duffle bag’s strap back towards her.

He refused to turn around, having a feeling that he’d lash out and he didn’t want to do that. He needed space, time to cool down, he didn’t want to give her the ultimatum of him or Bo and he had a feeling if he opened his mouth, that’s what he’d say.

She looked at his back, unsure of why he was so upset, his team had just won, shouldn’t he be more excited? “For someone who just won, you’re acting like emo Bo.”

Kuroo’s eye twitched, just hearing her compare him to Bo so effortlessly was painful and caused his thoughts to spiral. Did she want to be with him? Would she rather be with Bo? He clenched his fist, hating the way he felt and hating himself more for feeling that way. He hated the ugly jealousy that wrapped around his chest, weaving around his lung, making it harder to breathe as it tightened. He yanked his bag strap away from her, leaving her standing there as he stormed out.

** A few weeks went by and communication between Kuroo and Y/N was awkward and basic, simple “hello’s” and “yeah, you?” filled most of their exchanges. It all came down to Bo inviting both of them over to his place and essentially locking them in his room, forcing them to talk to each other.

“Tetsu-chan.” She bit down on her lip, tears filled her eyes, the reality of how distant they had grown weighed down the atmosphere, “are we breaking up?” “What?” His head snapped up, finally looking her. He didn’t want to break-up, he wasn’t even mad anymore, he just didn’t know how to get back to where they were. It felt weird to just try to just back in as if nothing had ever happened.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if creating a wall between them, an attempt to brace herself from the pain that seemed to be coming. She tried her hardest to keep her lip from quivering. “’Cause this is a very shitty way of doing that. You could’ve just called.”

He wasn’t sure what was going on, she didn’t look like she wanted to break up, but she sounded like she was ready for one. What sense did that make? The room almost felt hostile, “so I look like the guy that’d break up over the phone, is that what you think of me?” “Did I say that? No. But it’d be better than dumping me in Bo’s room!”

“I didn’t say I wanted to break up!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“You hurt my feelings!” Kuroo voice raised a bit louder than it had been, both of them pausing in their spot. The tension immediately disappeared and she slowly walked up to him, an adorable pout on her face.

She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest, “I’m so sorry!” “It’s fine, it’s stupid anyways.” He rubbed circles on her back, pulling her in closer to him.

She protested, claiming anything that bothered him couldn’t be stupid and demanded that he tell her and he did. That he knew it was rather silly to be jealous of her supporting her school, but it made him wonder if she was embarrassed to say she was with him. That he knew it was important for her to have friends and he was glad Bo was one, but she wanted her to see him as someone she could go to in the same she could to Bo because as lame as it sounded, he didn’t like feeling like the odd man out.

She reassured him that it was nothing like that and told him that she saw where he was coming from. She told him that if the roles had been reversed, she would’ve definitely felt the same way that he had and that they both needed to work on their communication skills because they both agreed neither of them wanted what they had to end.

They walked out of the room together, holding hands and Bo looked excited to see they worked things out, wrapping them both in a huge hug. Kuroo thought he felt confident in what she said to him, but then he saw how she seemed to just naturally gravitate towards Bo even when he was there and that sinking feeling he had weeks ago at their game came back, this time plowing into him like a wrecking ball.

* * September – 2013

Kuroo accidentally kicks the box as he staggers to stand up, the memories proving to be a bit too much for him. But something in him made him want to see the task through, to see everything that he was holding on to, but to do that he needed alcohol.

His phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, he takes it out immediately pressing the button on the side to silence it then presses it again to send it to voice mail. Kuroo knows who it is, it’s the only person who would be calling him: Kenma.

He opens the fridge, pulling out what few cans of beer he has before shuffling back to his room, flopping down in the stop that’s still warm from him sitting there just moments ago. He puts his phone on floor near him, glancing at the screen as it lights up from a text notification.

Kenma: Missed Call (4) Text Message (15)

Technically he had no reason to avoid his best friend, but he didn’t feel like he deserved Kenma’s kindness because all he had done lately was mess things up. He didn’t want Kenma to tell him everyone messes up and he can fix things since he knew that it was too late to do any of that now.

He pulls out a small pile of printed photographs, some printed out on the mini polaroid paper from the camera she wanted for her birthday. She was his first serious relationship, between school and volleyball he never really gave dating much thought, but it was different with her. She kept him on his toes, made him want to be better, he really could see a future with her, but he screwed it up and now all he had were these pictures.

Pictures that ranged from dates to study sessions, from volleyball games to random adventures through Tokyo. Looking at them made him wonder if she kept the matching ones? Did she have a box too?

A bit of beer splatters when he cracks open the tab and he frantically wiped the picture across his thigh, drying it but smearing the liquid across the photo. He wanted to believe that he tried hard enough to make things work, that he gave it his all, but when he thought back to that night, her words told him differently.

Epinephrine: surges at panic/emergency; provokes stress response— brings out arousal of extreme emotions like fear and anger.

January— 2012

“It’s really not that big of a deal!” She said for the fourth time within the last five minutes, but Kuroo wasn’t listening.

“It is!” He shook his head, pacing her bedroom, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to control what he said if he sat down, he needed to walk this anger out of him.

“He was the first person I saw, Tetsu.” She really didn’t mean anything by telling Bokuto she had been accepted into her top two choices for college, he literally happened to be the first person she saw after getting the news. They’d been dating for two years and he still got jealous when it came to Bo and she wasn’t sure why.

“You just don’t get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to even out his breathing, he really didn’t want to fight with her.

“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t get why my boyfriend gets so upset when I tell my best friend things.”

“Because you told him first! I should know first!”

She snorted, “this is stupid. I mean honestly you sound like a child.”

“A child, nice.” He grabbed his jacket from her desk chair, shoving passed her as he walked down the hall before slipping on his shoes and going right out the front door.

She followed him, yelling at him to stop, yanking on his arm when she finally catches up. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there as she repeatedly apologized, tightly wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I don’t know why I get so jealous.” He sounded defeated and he was, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place why he felt so threatened by Bo. Maybe it was because he knew her longer, knew parts of her that he didn’t or maybe it’s because deep down he just didn’t feel like he deserved her.

“I know.” She buried her face into his chest, still hugging him. She believed that he didn’t know why he felt that way, but she was still tired of dealing with it, regardless of how much she loved him.

* * April – 2012

It was the weird time between graduation and university getting ready to start, Y/N was over at Kuroo’s, his room now filled with boxes. Things didn’t bounce back to normal the way it did before when she thought they were breaking up, after their latest fight things were kinda awkward. They still hung out, but it was mostly just them sitting in the same room both engaged in something alone.

Kuroo looked over when he heard her giggle, raising an eyebrow before humming.

“Yukie sent the group chat some pictures from graduation.” She handed her phone to him, scooting a bit closer so they could look together.

Most of them were harmless, to be fair they were all harmless, but Kuroo started to question them as they went through them. There were ones of Y/N with Yukie and Kaori and some with various team members. Then they got to ones with Bo and both of them stiffened, neither had mentioned him unless they had to since their last fight. There were ones with Bo hanging on an unamused looking Akaashi, but the one that Kuroo hated was one of Bo next to Y/N, his hand “too low” on her hip for his liking.

He pushed himself off his bed, trying to calm down, but he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to.

“Tetsu, it was just a picture.”

He made an annoyed sound, something between a scoff and a laugh, as he shook his head. “He didn’t have to put his hand on your hip like that.”

She rolled her eyes, “it’s just a stupid pose. Everyone does it!” She flipped through the pictures, zooming in on Yukie’s arm that was wrapped around her waist, “see! Look! Her arm is around me, that make you mad too?” “It’d be different if you weren’t practically begging Bo to fuck you!”

The words hung heavy between them, for Kuroo it was a weight of his shoulders to get the words out but for Y/N, it knocked the wind out of her lungs. They were supposed to look at apartments today, find one to live in together while going to college, but a fight like this wasn’t in the plans. At least not for her, she was hoping that they could mend things and start over since they’d be moving away from Bo.

“W-w-what?” Her face was scrunched up in disbelief, the words still not being fully processed.

“I mean the way you flaunt yourself in front of him in that skirt!”

“Skirt?” Her face went deadpan, “you mean my fucking school uniform?”

28 months, they’d been together for over two years and she couldn’t he said that to her, couldn’t believe that he felt that way. Tears started to fill her eyes, for months she walked on pins and needles, carefully edited her words around him and now she had to hear the person she loved the most say the worse kind of words to her.

“You know what I mean! Don’t twist my words!”

“I’m not and I can’t believe you!” She wiped the tears from her face aggressively, “I have done nothing to cause you to feel this way!”

“I’m just making it up? It’s just in my head?” “YES! Bo is our best friend. Friends, that’s all we have ever been!” She started to look around the room, trying to find the sweatshirt she brought with her, she couldn’t have this fight again.

“Friends don’t act like you two do.”

“Boyfriends don’t act like you do!” She took three steps towards Kuroo to grab her sweatshirt before she turned and walked towards his door. She hesitated, thinking Kuroo would call out to her, but he doesn’t, instead he just let her leave.

* * July – 2012

They didn’t get a shared apartment like they had planned to. Kuroo stayed in Tokyo while YN moved to Kyoto, choosing a completely different university than she originally intended. For most of their first semester in university they barely spoke at all, neither really making it a point to reach out. Ironically, if it wasn’t Bokuto they wouldn’t have known how the other was doing, how the other was dealing with the upgrade from high school to college.

Then Bokuto mentioned a Fukurōdani vs Nekoma game, invited both of them and both eagerly accepted. Which lead to a very awkward game, each sitting on the opposite side of Bokuto, who was far too busy cheering on his old team to notice. Bokuto ran off after the game, Akaashi had called, leaving the two to awkwardly walk home.

They get close to her house, both lingering on the sidewalk, kicking imaginary rocks to act as if they had something keeping them outside.

“Y/N, I’m –“

“I think we should break up.”

“Y/N, I –”

“No. I don’t want to hear any excuses anymore. I tried so hard to make this work, but what you said to me hurt Kuroo, it really hurt.”

Kuroo. When was the last time she called him that?

“I never did anything to make you think those things, I wouldn’t do that. I really did love you, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.”

* * September – 2013

It had been over a year and he stilled kicked himself for not saying anything to her that night, for letting her walk away without even trying to hold onto their relationship. But that night he discovered that everything he thought about them was a lie. He thought that he had been trying to keep them together, that he had been trying his hardest to be a good boyfriend, but he was the one who tore them apart. He was the one who got it in his head that she was acting a way that he knew she wasn’t, he knew that Bo was just her friend and what made it even worse was after their break-up, Bo and Akaashi announced their relationship.

Not only did he lose his girlfriend, the only girl he’d ever loved, but she eventually told Akaashi what happened and when Bo found out, he was livid. Even Akaashi hadn’t seem Bo as mad as he was when he called and told off Kuroo for ever thinking that about him and Y/N. Maybe all of this was what he deserved, he had been truly awful as a boyfriend and a friend, but even with that awareness, he still missed her. Still wanted her back, wanted to truly be able to fix things with her because he knew he could be better given one more chance.

* * October – 2013

Being back at home isn’t as bad as Kuroo built it up in his head to be. His grandparents weren’t thrilled that he wasn’t going to finish up this semester, but he promised them after some time, after he could clear his head, he would go back.

He picked up a part-time job at a convenient shop, just needing something to force him out of his thoughts because somehow being back at home was even worse than being alone in his apartment. Even though he knew she was hours away, it didn’t stop him from almost breaking his neck to see if every girl passing with (h/c) was her. He hadn’t seen her up close since their breakup, so he didn’t know if she had long, short, buzzed hair, hell he didn’t even know if she had colored it differently.

“You didn’t forget my (favorite flavor) tea, did you?”

Kuroo stops in the middle of ringing up a customer at the sound of a familiar voice. Over the last year and a half, he swore he had heard it several times, but this time he is positive that it’s her. He looks up just in time to see her smiling at someone that the aisle is preventing him from seeing and he feels his heart thump into his chest.

He wants to step away from the register, to tell them to just give him a moment, that’s all he needs with her to try to get her to just hear him out, but there’s a pretty long line and she disappears deeper into the store.

“Kuroo?”

He looks up from ringing up the few items that were placed on the counter and it was her. Her in person, not in his dreams or random memories that flooded his mind when was alone. He wanted to ask her to wait for him, to give him just a few minutes to talk to him, but the person next to her wrapped his arm around her and his heart sank.

“Are you on break from school?” She tilts her head to the side.

“Just thought I’d take some time off, clear my head.” He told them the total price, the mystery man handing him the amount. “What about you?” She clears her throat, shifting a bit awkwardly which isn’t missed on either man. “Bo invited us to celebrate him signing to a pro team.” “Ah. So this is…” The man quickly introduces himself, Kuroo doesn’t bother to catch his name, but the title he gives himself sticks in his mind: boyfriend. He wants to be mad, how could she just move on like that? How could she just forget everything they had and start over with this…guy?

“We should get going, Y/N.”

“It was nice seeing you.” She gives him a small polite smile, taking the man’s hand as they walked out of the store. But she pauses before going through the door and for a brief moment Kuroo holds his breath, hoping she’ll tell him she wants to talk. She doesn’t, instead she shakes her head with a small laugh and follows her boyfriend outside.

That’s the moment Kuroo realizes that he no longer has a place in her life to go back to, that no matter how hard and tightly he holds onto the memories they made, he would never get her back. And that realization shook Kuroo to his core.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

Interested in more? --> Masterlist

#haikyuu!!#hq kuroo #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kuroo x female reader #kuroo angst #hq angst #tw angst #tw toxic behavior #tw cheating allegations #tw mentions of cheating #tw adult language #tw cussing #tw: anger #kuroo tetsuro x reader #platonic bokuto x reader #hq bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader are friends

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markosmate · 4 years

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Could you do one where the boys (poly or David) girl gets insecure after seeing other girls fawn over the boys so she try’s to dodge the boys thinking they’d be happier with someone else- also your writings are quickly becoming some of my favorites of the lost boys ff writers 💛💛💛

aww thank you so much!! that means so much to me and of course,, this is a really cute idea so i had fun writing this one. i chose to do poly, if you want me to write another one that’s just david i'd be happy to :) - 🧚🏻

cinnamon

pairing; poly!lost boys x reader

warnings; self doubt, insecurities

The first thing you noticed about the boys was how well they were dressed. Despite all of their outfits consisting in relatively dark colors, they all seemed to have their own little aesthetics that fit their personalities well. The second thing you noticed, was how they either seemed to completely deflect people, or draw them in like bees to honey. No in between. You felt drawn to them almost immediately, their punk yet boyish vibes rubbing off on you the perfect way immediately.

But after realizing how many girls flocked to them on the nightly, you refused to give into the butterflies in your stomach when you locked eyes with one of them for the first time. Instead, you turned on your heel and began making your way in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long for them to get you wrapped around their finger, almost like you got hooked on their line and they were pulling you in quicker than ever before.

You fell for each of them, hard, and in turn, they fell for you. After many conversations among the four of them, they decided to break both the news of what they were, and their plan of sharing you, in one night. You were honestly more shocked at their confession of feelings than you were about their apparent bat side.

Of course you were a little horrified at first. What do you mean your sweet boys drained people of their blood every night to survive? You didn’t quite believe either thing they were telling you until David flashed his face at you, yellow eyes and fangs galore. You stared at him for a good long while, taking it all in before the second confession hit you like a truck.

"You’re saying all four of you have feelings for me? Like, feelings feelings?" Your jaw dropped, looking each one in the eyes as they all nodded at you with cocky smirks on their faces. Except Dwayne, he was kinda sympathetic about dumping that all on you at once, you know - he’s a nice guy when he’s not killing people to survive. "Dwayne kills people?" That earned you a round of laughter that cooled the tension in the air.

That night, you let your walls down. After all, you could deal with a few girls flirting with them every few nights. Now that they were all with you, they'd surely turn down the flirting and make sure the girls knew they weren’t interested right? Wrong, completely and utterly wrong.

In fact, it almost seemed like they were doing the exact opposite. Dwayne and David were about the same, they never used seduction to lure in victims. They had always preferred to use stealth and intimidation. Paul, on the other hand?

Suddenly he didn’t know how to hunt without cat-calling three girls in the process.

It angered you to no end. But at the same time, it also dug up many self-doubting thoughts that seemed to ring around your head every time he or Marko did it. Would the boys be happier with someone else? One of those girls who constantly fawned over their every move, practically obsessed with your four boys? You didn’t know, and after a while of that insecurity building, you decided you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

Your distancing started out small. Not showing up at the boardwalk for a night here and there without telling them you weren't going to be able to make it, cancelling plans of going back to the cave with them to sleep there for the day. They noticed immediately, obviously, but they couldn’t for the life of them figure out why you were suddenly acting this way. And the night that they planned to ask you about what was wrong, you didn’t show up to the boardwalk. Nor did you didn’t show up to their meeting spot the next night either, or the night after that. On the fourth day of you not showing up, the boys were all practically ripping the hair out of their heads.

"I’m going crazy here, man! Why can’t we just go check on her?" Marko groaned, thumping his fingers on the handle of his bike.

"Because." David answered curtly, breathing in deep around the butt of his cigarette.

"Because?" Paul cried out, looking at his leader with an exasperated expression. "Something could be wrong with her and you’re just saying 'because'?"

"He’s letting his pride get in the way." Dwayne huffed out, taking a sip from his milkshake. "He wants her to come to us, not the other way around."

"This is ridiculous. I’m going to her man." Paul grunted, starting up his bike before revving the engine for extra effect.

"Right on, dude." The shorter blond mumbled under his breath, following the former's actions.

"I told you we need to wait." David narrowed his eyes at the two offending vampires.

"No, man. They have a point. Something's wrong." Dwayne defended the other two's protests. "She’s been distancing herself lately and suddenly she’s not showing up to be with us anymore?"

"Obviously we did something." Marko threw in. "She wouldn’t just stop talking to us if we hadn't done anything."

"She’s not like that, man." Paul concluded as they all stared directly at David knowing that he had to give in now.

"Alright. Let’s go." The grins on his three boys' face was infectious, and he had to hide his own to avoid the teasing that was sure to come if they were to notice it.

The four revved their bikes and were off to your house, arriving in a record-breaking four minutes. They parked their bikes down the street as to not raise suspicion from your parents and quietly made their way around the back of the house towards your window.

Paul took the opportunity to pick up a few small pebbles along the way, before tossing them gently up to your window.

After a few short moments, your face appeared to them as you pulled your curtains back.

Your eyes caught Dwayne's first as you stared down into the yard, trying to make out their shapes in the dark. You unlocked the window and threw it upwards, much harsher than you should’ve considering your parents were still very much asleep. "What are you doing here?" You hissed down to them after poking your head out of the opening in the window.

"Whoa, babe." Marko tried to calm you. "We’re your boyfriends, why aren’t we allowed to visit you?"

You glared at him before turning to gaze at each of them individually. "Please leave." You mumbled calmly. "I don’t want to see you guys right now."

"Babe?" Paul called up, voice cracking the tiniest bit. "What’s going on? Can we please come up?"

You frowned. You were doing this so that they could find someone else that they would be happier with, not to hurt them. Your eyes softened as you made eye contact with each of them once more, eyes locking with David's at last. "Come on up." You sighed, stepping away from the window and plopping down on your bed. A huge gust of wind came blowing through your room, pushing your curtains out of the way and rustling your hair as all four of your boys managed to stumble through your small window.

You reached over towards your headboard and grabbed the nearest pillow you could to hug to your chest. Immediately Paul threw himself on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body to hold you against him. David moved to lean back against your closet door. Dwayne stayed near the window, moving to sit against the sill as Marko just kind of fumbled about awkwardly in the middle, not quite knowing where to go.

"You guys have never been in here before." You muttered, trying to divert the conversation that you knew they would want to address immediately. "Just outside to pick me up."

David rolled his eyes at your stalling tactics, pushing himself off the closet door to walk over to you. He leaned down, slipping a finger under your chin to bring your head up to face him. "What’s going on kitten?"

You sighed, not knowing how to put it without sounding desperate or clingy. You opted to lean back against Paul's chest as he shifted to sit with a leg on either side of you. "I wanted to distance myself from you guys-"

"Why?" Paul and Marko blurted out before you could finish your sentence. Paul seemed hurt while Marko just seemed offended that you would lead them on only to ditch.

"She was trying to tell us, shut up." David shushed them both.

"I just- I thought that maybe if you guys didn’t have me holding you back... you could find a nice girl that you really like who makes you more happy than I do." You whispered, holding on tightly to the blond's wrist that were wrapped around your waist.

"Baby, why would you think that?" Dwayne cooed, moving to sit beside you and Paul as Marko and David visibly deflated at your confession.

"I don’t know... I guess I just- I just got kind of upset seeing all the girls that flock to you guys night after night. And then seeing Marko and Paul flirt back with them, even more than you guys did before we all started dating, it just kinda sealed it for me. I just... felt like you guys were better off before we started dating." You explained almost all in one breath. Paul buried his face in your neck as Marko moved to sit on the other side of you. David kneed onto one knee and cupped your face to encourage your eyes to meet his own.

"Doll, we want you. That’s why we chose you. We don’t want them. We want you baby." He whispered, scanning your face to try and read what emotion you were feeling.

"And I’m just dumb, babe. You know I never mean it when I flirt with them. They’re just meals, you’re everything to me." Paul pouted, pressing a flurry of kisses to your neck and shoulder. "If I had known that it bothered you that much, I would have stopped right when you said the word."

"Yeah, baby doll. We won’t do it anymore, promise. They could never compare to you." Marko grinned at you, leaning forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, your smile was already beginning to return to your lips.

David grinned at you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "All you had to do was tell us, kitten. You didn’t have to put yourself through all this self-doubt. We’re yours."

You smiled softly at him, leaning into his gloved hand. "I love you guys."

That night, three of your boys fell asleep curled against each other at the foot of the bed. You slipped out of Paul's arms, causing him to toss and turn until he found Marko's body to pull into his own. You crawled up the bed towards the headboard where Dwayne was leaned back against a bunch of your stuffed animals. He gathered you tightly in his arms as you curled up against his side.

"Go to sleep." He whispered into your hair. "I'll wake you up before me and the boys leave to say goodbye." You knew he wouldn't, but it made you smile anyway. You tried to keep your eyes open, trying to make the moment last as long as possible as you knew they would all have to leave in a few hours before the sun rose but you couldn’t deny how comfy it was to sleep against Dwayne. You fell asleep to the sensation of him pressing kisses to the crown of you head in rhythm you couldn’t pick up on.

"My cinnamon." He whispered just as you finally drifted off. "How could you ever doubt the love we have for you?"

Quick AN:// you’re LYING to yourself in you try to say the image of david curled up with marko and paul doesn’t sound like the absolute cutest!! okay i’m done hehe, i have three more requests to work on so i need to get started on those,, bye y’all mwah <33

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harrypotter-imaginess · 3 years

Text

A/N: I just want to say, for my OG readers that have been reading this since I first posted the headcanon list last year, I love and appreciate y’all so much!! If you want, since this is a long term project, I can add you to the tag list if you like :)

Also Letter commission’s are open until 3/10, so if your interested, price and info are here.

Based on this Headcanon list (x) : Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! <This is Part 4!>

You sigh, eyes glancing back at your watch.

Maybe it’s off?

You wouldn’t put it past Fred to screw up the time on your watch just so you would show up an hour early to your class, wondering if it was always this dark at eight in the morning.

But if Fred did mess with your watch, how does that explain everyone else? You turn to your right and look at a group of third and fourth years scattered around the room. Surely he couldn’t have changed the time in everyone’s watch.

Though at this point you know better than to assume anything is impossible for Fred Weasley, especially if he’s able to get George on board with his pranks.

You sigh, eyes sweeping over the room again. The chatting has long died down, now it looks like all those late nights in the common room playing exploding snap are finally beginning catching up.

Especially when the class was missing the particularly loud and somewhat entertaining antics of the one and only, Gilderoy Lockhart. It wasn’t that it was particularly fun to watch his nonsensical lessons or anything- but at least it was something to watch. And as long as you were barley competent, you could get by just fine on the “pop quizzes” he had. Though they were really more like magazine quizzes about how well you knew him.

Plus he was pretty good looking, though you would rather die than admit that to Fred or George.

Speaking of your favorite pair of doppelgängers-

You turn to look at your side, the two chair next to you on the long bench are vacant. Well, it’s not like it’s totally unusual for them to skip class. You can count on one hand how many times they’ve been excited to come to defense against the dark arts this year. But-

But... they usually invite you when they do decide to play hooky.

Maybe they didn’t invite you because you’re always persuading them to come to class instead. ‘You don’t want a howler from your Mum now do you?’ You would say, pushing them towards the class.

Maybe they just don’t think you’re fun to be around anymore. No, no, they’re your friends- you can’t start thinking like that, there must be a good reason why-

“Hey (Y/N/N)” George squeezes past you, plopping into the chair next to you with a soft rattle.

His hair’s sticking every which way, his robe is crooked, and his tie isn’t even tied, just hanging limply along his neck.

“You don’t even have your bag George” you hiss, did he finally get into a fist fight with Draco Malfoy? You’ve told them both not to think too hard about how he called you-

“Wait where’s Fred?” You look to the door, expecting to see a messy head of fire red hair walk through the door, sporting bruises and maybe a grin like his black eye is a gold medal.

But instead, there’s a familiar head of golden hair standing in the doorway. It’s Gilderoy Lockhart. There’s no doubt about it, the image of him is perfect. Of course it’s your professor.

Of course it is.

But there’s something about the way he carries himself? Like he’s still getting used to having legs so short. The way his smile seems a little more...mischievous than usual, that twinkle of absolute delight in those strangely familiar eyes.

“Oh no” you mumble, but George grins from beside you.

“I’m not going to be needing my bag, and neither are you” George whispers in your ear, and you turn to look at him.

They didn’t.

“Good afternoon class, sorry I’m late! I was admiring myself in one of my thirty mirrors and the time just...got away from me.” ‘Professor Lockhart’ says flashing his class the most condescending smile you have ever seen.

“That’s not a lie you know, we did find him admiring himself in the mirror” George whispers, your face is in your hands but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s got a pleased grin on his face.

“It’s why it was so easy to knock him out and shove him into the teachers lounge- he never even saw it coming”

Well at least they didn’t shove him into a broom closet.

“Now class, I would like you to write a list of things you love about me-“ there’s a collective groan and the rustle of parchment but neither you and George don’t move a muscle.

“Four feet at least!” Fred, in his Lockhart-skin-suit bellows, which earns another collective groan from the rest of the class.

“So what, did you draw the short stick, why aren’t you up there?” You ask jerking your head towards Fred, it looks like the more fun part of the prank honestly. It also seems like the sweetest m form of revenge after old Gildy gave you three detention last week for showing up late to class, but you won’t mention that.

George only shrugs.

Honestly ninety percent of this situation was Fred’s poor impulse control. One second they were running late to class, and George was worrying about getting detention because if he has to scrub all those awards for Filch again he won’t be able to hold a quil - and the next thing he knows he’s carrying Lockhart by his feet into the teachers lounge.

“He’s the showman, I’m just the side kick.” George shrugs, it’s been that way since they were kids. Fred would come up with an idea and George would follow his lead.

Not that he’s upset about it. It’s always interesting, he’s hasn’t been bored in years. Still, he can’t help but wonder if they didn’t share the same face, would he and Fred be as close as they are now?

Or would he be just as easily replaced, most likely by Lee Jordan. Well Ron might make a more susceptible accomplice, would anyone do-

“And where would our fearless leader be without his trustworthy sidekicks?” You say, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. Your voice drawing George out of his thoughts.

“Probably in detention” You muse, that or jail, because technically they assaulted their professor, and that’s got to be a serious offense.

George laughs next to you, well you’ve got a point. If it wasn’t for you and him, you three would have been expelled long ago. He’s about to lean over and whisper something in your ear when some interrupts him mid motion.

“Weasley and (L/N), less flirting and more quil movement, yes?” He really sounds like Fred right there, a hint of an accent peaking through. Not that anyone other than you and George seem to notice. They’re all too busy contemplating how embarrassing it must be to get called out for not paying attention by Gilderoy Lockhart of all people.

You manage to not roll your eyes, sifting through your bag until you pull out some parchment.

“Geez four feet? That’s kind of excessive” you mumble while George is holding back laughter so violent he’s actually shaking.

“You know he’s just teasin’ right? It’s not like Lockhart’s actually going to grade these-“ and then a horrible realization dawns on him.

Half of the reason they thought this plan would work is because someone as pompous as Gilderoy Lockhart would never admit that two teenage boys hit him over the head with one of his books, and shoved him on a sofa (after tying his shoe laces together).

No, good old Gildy would go along like nothing had even happened, perhaps he’d even believe that nothing had really happened. Not enough sleep and too much caffeine do result in memory loss. And who can sleep with ‘the heir of Slytherin’ on the loose?

Ordering-sorry, assigning them to write four feet worth of parchment about what they admire about their professor sounds exactly like something he would do.

“Fucking Fred.” George hisses, why did he bloody have to pick four feet? Wouldn’t just one foot have sufficed? But no, the great Fred could never- ‘it adds enthusiasm, it’s all about the drama’ he would say.

Well where’s your god damn drama now that your best friend and brother are about to fail this god forksaken class, all because you couldn’t say one foot instead of f*cking four, George wants to scream.

You sigh, cutting your parchment in half, handing one half to George. You’ve only got four feet on you, you didn’t think you would need any more than that, so the both of you are just going to have to turn in two feet each.

“Sure would be a shame if Fred came back to the dorm and found, oh I don’t know, fifty spiders in his bed” you muse as you pull out two quills, and a bottle of ink. You’ve only got the one bottle, you’ll have to share.

But George isn’t paying any mind to the ink and parchment situation, instead he’s grinning at your suggestion. He always knew you had a wicked streak.

“Yeah it would be a real shame if say, two people were to go down to Hagrid’s hut, collect some drool from Fang, and smear it all over Fred’s robes” You peer at George from the corner of your eye, trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

“Oh well now wouldn’t that just be awful, hypothetically of course” You say, looking down to your parchment

“Truly a tragedy” He responds with a grin.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter #fred and goerge weasley #Fred and George Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #Fred Weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #george and fred weasley #george weasley x reader

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thora-jane · 3 years

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Twin-Way Mirror Pt. 1 (Weasley Twins/Reader Love Triangle)

Series Summary: You've been friends with the Weasley twins since your first train to Hogwarts, but as the three of you start your 6th year, you start to question if your feelings go beyond friendship.

Summary for Pt 1: as Summer draws to a close, some old friends come to take you off to the Quidditch World Cup

Warnings: none, I don't think. Maybe some tension between you and your parents.

Word count: 2,200

female!reader, 2nd person POV

Summer Holidays were special, you supposed, what with everyone taking a break from classes and unwinding for a couple months. You personally hadn’t been as big of a fan since you started Hogwarts. You were a Muggleborn, and Hogwarts was the first time you felt you actually understood school. You had been a horrible student in muggle school and consistently got terrible marks, but at Hogwarts? You were the brightest witch of your year. Even before your first day of classes, you had poured over every book cover to cover, examined your wand and robes for hours on end, and it took everything inside you not to start making potions.

Summer holidays were just the months in between. The time when you would lie to all your muggle friends about your new school (a private school, meant to reform students doing poorly in the academics department), and hold your breath amidst the tension of your muggle parents heavily encouraging you to continue to study muggle subjects and go to a muggle university after you graduate (“Come now, (y/n), you can’t possibly think you can just live out your life as a witch, do you?”).

A silver lining to all of this were the letters you would get from your friends. Once the sun had gone down and you could release your pet owl, Eros, with a letter or two strapped to his foot. In the morning, he would fly back with a letter or package before falling asleep in his cage. The letters would be from a few different friends every once in a while; Angelina would write to you about the latest news in Quidditch, always assuring you that this would be the year you make it onto the team, Hermione would send you newspaper clippings as your parents didn’t want you subscribing to a wizard newspaper, even Oliver would write and tell you about how his summers were going since he knew you didn’t see your friends much. And of course, there were the letters from the Weasleys.

You were in the same year as the twins, Fred and George, but no one could ever be friends with just a few of the Weasleys, it was always all or nothing. Ginny would write to you about quidditch (also assuring you you’d make the team, though you never did), Mr. Weasely would write and ask for common muggle objects, or with a whole laundry list of questions about muggle life, Mrs. Weasely would write asking you if you were being taken care of, sending you recipes and craft patterns, knowing how much you loved to cook and work with yarn, even Ron and Percy would write you, though mostly because Mrs. Weasley made them. Percy never let on as he scribbled about ministry business, but almost all of Ron’s consisted of “How are you, I am fine, mum wants me to write you. The twins miss you. xoxo Sorry, that was Fred and George.”

Ah, the Twins. Their letters were always your favorite, filled with page-long jokes or stories of their epic pranks and escapades, sometimes with a chocolate frog or some other sweet taped to the inside of the letter. Of course, when they mentioned making a line of pranking sweets, you were a bit hesitant to eat some of the things they sent. But you always seemed to walk away from the experience with all your teeth and toes, so you figured you wouldn’t get pranked unless they were there in person.

You kept all the letters and souvenirs and clippings sent, and even hung some up on your bedroom wall. Of course, none of the letters sent to you went unanswered, there would be days on end when you would write and craft responses to them, especially when one of the twins sent you a letter. You always closed out their responses assuring them that the three of you would see eachother again soon, and that next term would arrive before they knew it.

Granted, when you said this, you didn’t expect anyone to show up on your doorstep one day.

You were up in your room, writing out a response to George’s most recent letter and scrounging around for one of the candybars you had bought for him after finally convincing him to try muggle candy. It was then that you heard the doorbell ring. You paid it no attention, and chalked it all up to one of your mum’s friends stopping by for a coffee.

This of course, was not the case. You heard a few different voices, besides your mum, one or two of them belonged to who you assumed were women, but the others sounded much deeper. Then you heard thumping footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall. The next thing you knew, there was a loud pounding on the door.

Then there was silence.

You weren’t quite sure who was there, but you hadn’t heard anything from your parents about company. And if there was one thing you’ve learned at Hogwarts, in these past few years especially, is that you always need to be on your toes.

You drew your wand out from your tied back hair and, holding it at the ready, opened up the door.

You weren’t quite sure who you were expecting, but not a second later two messes of red and black hair came flying towards you as Harry and Ron yanked you into a half-hug, half-tackle.

“(y/n)!” Harry laughed, moving your hand holding your wand so it didn’t stab him in the face, “the look on your face!”

Ron almost snorted, “Bloody hell, the twins would have paid galleons to see that!”

It took you a moment to recover your breath, but once the two boys stepped back from their hug, you managed to stutter out a question.

“Why are...uh...what are you doing here? And where are the twins?” You turned to Ron, who had walked over to your desk and started looking up at all the letters tapped to the wall, he started talking, but you could tell he was much more absorbed in all the papers and pictures and doodles.

“We’re here to pick you up, you’re all packed, aren’t you? The cup is in a few days and-say, were you going to eat this?” he interrupted himself, holding up one of the candy bars.

You walked past your bed and yanked a pillow out from Harry, who had seemed to make himself comfortable before you hit him with a pillow, then did the same to Ron.

“No, you may not eat that, that isn’t for you. And what cup? What do you mean all packed?” You tossed the pillow back onto your bed, and it landed on Harry’s face with an ‘oof’ before you pulled your trunk out of the closet and started tossing some of your cleaner and folded laundry in there, “Ronald I have no clue what you’re talking about. Harry, what does he mean?”

Although neither of you were in the Weasely family, you and Harry treated each other like siblings. Maybe not close friends, but the two of you were close enough that talking to him wasn’t too difficult.

“The Quidditch World Cup. Ron, didn’t you tell her?” He sat back up on your bed, looking over at Ron with his brow furrowed, “Your mum had you write her about it the other day, yeah?”

Ron smacked himself in the head, “I knew I was forgetting something! (Y/n), Dad got enough tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and you’re coming with us. Now, mum thought I wrote you and you’re supposed to be packed for school too, we’re taking all your stuff to the burrow and dropping you off at the Hogwarts express with the rest of us.”

“You’re only just now telling me?!” You tried not to shriek as you started packing faster, racking through your brain for all the things you’d need. You hadn’t gotten the list of books yet this year, but you intended on going before the year started. After running to the closet again and tossing your school uniform into the trunk, you ran over to the desk and shoved Ron aside to grab your box of letter writing things and some of the magical books you thought might be useful this year. While hastily stacking the boxes and books into your trunk, you ordered Ron and Harry from over your shoulder, “Ron, my potions kit should be under the bed. Harry, run to the bathroom and grab the small bag with butterflies on it, it should have my toothbrush, soap, shampoo, makeup -bathroom stuff. Well?”

The two boys nodded, a little intimidated at the speed you were packing. As Harry Ran to the bathroom, you turned to Ron.

“Do you remember the extra thing on the list this year? Fourth years and up needed…?”

“Don’t remind me. Fourth years and up need dress robes. I hate mine, they’re bloody awful,” he sighed, looking morose as he handed you your cauldron full of potion tools, “I’ll look like an old lady in them. What about you?”

You ran over to the closet, rifling through the jumpers and other clothes, tossing a Mrs.-Weasley-Handmade-Jumper into the trunk, “My mum took me out to get a dress a few days back, it should be...ah yes, here it is,” You pulled out a dress with see-through billowy sleeves and a skirt that went almost to the floor when you wore it, “You think this is good enough?” He raised his eyebrows, nodding.

“It looks nice,” You could tell he wasn’t too interested and agreed only to be polite, but you appreciate the sentiment as you carefully tucked it into your trunk. Harry came back and tossed the bag to you and you added it to your trunk before closing the lid and placing Eros’s cage on top. Sticking your wand back into your hair and slinging your yarn bag over your shoulder, you looked back at the two boys.

“Where are the twins? I thought they would have wanted to come pick me up?”

Ron tossed you the candy bars on your desk before walking to the other side of the trunk and helping you lift it, “Well, mum needed Hermione and Harry to help us get to a muggle house, and I tagged along. They wanted to come, but mum said she wanted to make a good impression on your parents and the last time they picked someone up from a muggle house dad had to go to at least a dozen ministry hearings.”

You chuckled, remembering how back in their third year they stole the car to pick up Harry from his aunt and uncle’s, “That sounds about right, Harry, could you get the door?”

Harry picked up Eros’s cage and held the door wide open as you and Ron waddled the trunk out of your room, stopping as you got to the edge of the stairs.

Your mum, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley turned at the sound of you making your way down the hall. The two witches waved, their faces lighting up as you greeted them, then Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and waved it gently, “Let me help you with that, dearie,” She smiled as your trunk delicately floated down the stairs.

“(y/n), Mrs. Weasely and Miss-” She looked over at Hermione for a second, before Hermione answered. “Granger,” She smiled politely.

“Yes, Miss Granger just explained to me that their family was going to take you to a...Wizard Football match?” She smiled a little, puzzled by the own words coming out of her mouth, “they offered to have you stay at their house,” She glanced at your trunk and the wide grin on your face, “I take it you’re interested in going?”

You nodded vigorously before pausing, “Is...Is that alright with you?”

She smiled, though it looked a bit forced, “Yes, yes it is. Just make sure you brush up on your real school subjects, please. And do mind your manners.”

You practically squealed, your hands shaking excitedly as you ran to grab your normal shoes (school shoes and dress shoes had been packed in the trunk).

Mrs. Weasely thanked your mum again and the boys and Hermione helped carry your trunk out to the car. Once you had all settled in and started to drive off, Mrs. Weasley looked at you through the rearview mirror.

“Your mum seems like a wonderful lady, but she isn’t too fond of magic, is she?” She asked gently, and you noticed the whole car go a bit quiet.

“No, she isn’t. I think she’d rather I focus more on traditional muggle subjects than magic,” You answered shyly, looking down at the yarn in your bag.

“Ah well, I wouldn’t fret too much over that, dearie. Muggles can be like that sometimes, but she’ll come around,” She offered a smile through the mirror again. Before you knew it, you were back to talking with your younger friends, excitedly asking about their summers as the five of you made your trip back to the burrow.

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