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#five x black reader

the-ravenist · 2 years

Text

We Meet Again

Five Hargreeves x Black!GN!Reader

Reader uses they/them pronouns, reader is black, has powers yet not a Hargreeves, Five & Reader are 17, Reader has locs, ex-lovers to enemies(?), Five is ooc, Viktor will be used, this isn't related to the show

The sound of heavy double doors closing echo's throughout the large mansion. In the center of the black and white checkered floor are 7 people, 6 adults seeming to range around mid 20′s-early 30′s, and a teenage boy who looks about 17 years old. The teenage boys seem to be on edge, looking around the room as if looking for something or in this case someone. One of the lanky adults, Klaus, wanders off from his place behind his brother with the rest of his siblings to stand next to the kid, looking down at him he asks,

“Hey, uh Five,” yes that was the boys' name. Five, like the number, his ranking, the number after four, “you said we are supposed to meet someone here yet the place seems....abandoned.” Klaus asks as he looks around the grand entrance, intrigued by the vintage aesthetic it gives.

The said boy looks up at his brother only to glare at him before huffing and replying, “I know and we are,” he walks to the staircase in the room, “this place is too clean for somebody not to live here.”

Klaus was about to reply before hearing one of the ancient vases falling and shattering on the ground when the siblings look towards the sounds distracted a person had appeared at the head of the stairs with firearms of all kinds floating around their head directed toward the odd sibling group. Their gaze seems to be centered on Five, their eyes hold no emotion other than slight anger.

With a low yet booming voice, the person says,

“It’s weird seeing you here Five Hargreeves,” the guns are cocked and aimed at said person. At the voice, the group turns to the person alarmed and armed. Five lowers his protective stance and holds his arms up in surrender, his slight smirk, and innocent eyes irritate the wielder of the weapons.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," Five teases the mystery person and walks forwards with hesitant steps. Yet an invisible force seems to stop his stride, he looks up at their face to see that their nose had started bleeding yet their face remains unbothered.

Tired and annoyed at his supposed younger brother, the second shortest man, Diego, steps up with a knife in his hand.

"Oh okay, I'm tired of the secrets and shit," his voice is short of a yell as his eyes shift from his brother to what looks like a modern grim reaper.

"So, tell me who the hell you are since this el carbón won't tell us shit," he finishes with a firmer tone.

"Well, I guess I should introduce myself. It is quite rude of me right?" The guns are aimed at the siblings again instead of just Five, “ it seems that common courtesy has slipped my mind.” They also release the telekinetic hold on Five which stops the flow of blood from their nose.

"My name is (Y/N) and you are Diego, Allison, Viktor, Klaus, and Luther," they say looking at each named sibling. “Or in other words The Umbrella Academy.” The siblings are more on edge when their names are spoken by the mystery person, well their name is supposedly (Y/N).

While the siblings are staring in fear, Five is in rather awe, looking at the melanin deity that he used to call his friend. Even though they were definitely more than just friends. Locs that used to be at their ears are reaching a little bit under their shoulders, they're way taller than before, and they've seemed to gain muscle well almost everywhere. When green eyes meet gray ones they narrow in anger and sadness-filled glare(mostly anger from (Y/N)). He goes to speak before (Y/N) beat him to it.

"Get. Out. Now," they speak with a firm tone, leaving no room to argue. Everyone seems to step back slightly from the tone of their voice as well as the guns which seem to loom over them.

Luther scoffs and puffs out his chest a bit, pushing his way in front of Five, he says with such confidence as he looks from the guns to (Y/N) and back.

“This is so stupid, intimidating us with guns,” Diego goes to stand with his buffer brother to say. “I bet those aren’t even loaded,” he finishes his brother's statement.

With a twitch of their hand, they move a shotgun downwards, and telekinetically the trigger is pulled. Leaving a hole near the boy's feet, sensing the tense atmosphere Allison goes to speak but stops when (Y/N) speaks.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want your neck slit," they mockingly tilt their head while glaring at Allison. "Again of course," they finish, their eyes sparkle with slight amusement.

Allison's body goes rigid as well as the others when they notice a knife dangerously close to her neck. Viktor does not want his sister to get hurt, so he speaks up in a calm voice.

"Hey, hey can we not do that," he says with his hands raised. " Five has brought us here to talk. It appears that you may be able to assist us."

(Y/N) scoffs at this claim, their glare hardening when their eyes meet with Fives again. Looking away from his green orbs they look at the others before telekinetically putting the guns away. Klaus and Viktor watch as weapons float up the right stairway away from their sight. In the middle of the room, they walk down the grand staircase while pulling out a tissue from the back pocket of their dress pants to wipe the blood from their nose.

“Okay, I’m here and you no longer have a red dot on your heads,” (Y/N) states as they wiped their face. “What is it,” they ask with a shrug of their shoulders.

A bit annoyed that his siblings, out of all people, got (Y/N) was able to cooperate so quickly, Five blips in front of Diego and Luther glaring at ex-coworker(?).

“Yeah, yeah now if we can skip the greetings we got some serious shit to discuss,” Five states in a yell, looking from his siblings to (Y/N). “Like oh, I don’t know, the world ending in two days!”

(Y/N) just rolls their eyes at Five’s outburst. Still such a child, they think.

“I guess I was correct about the formula being wrong,” ignoring Five as they scan his new look. ”I was right per usual,” they finish with a smirk.

“Oh, and the whole world ending again because a certain someone wasn’t careful,” the siblings glance at Five before they look back at (Y/N). “I can’t help you with that.”

(Y/N) goes over to the broken vase on the floor to clean up while Five is silently raging. He marches over to them, huffing a little bit which each step.

“What do you mean you can’t help,” he asked baffled and frustrated.

“Well, it’s just as I said,” they say as they start picking up the broken vase. “I cannot help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

They look at Five from their crouched position to smirk at him, “why can’t it be both?”

With a growl, Five walks away from them, just as Diego is walking toward the brown-skinned teen. He pulls out a knife from his thigh holster to hold it against their neck, rather than acting terrified (Y/N) remains unfazed by the situation.

“If you wish to live, you will help us, I’ve already lost my girlfriend due to her getting involved in this shit,” he presses the blade harder. “So tell me exactly you wouldn’t help us save the world?”

“I have every reason to say no, and I’m sorry about your loss,” (Y/N) grasps the porcelain sharps tightly. “Now if you wish to keep that hand, I suggest that you remove your knife from my neck,” they say as they look at the slightly bloody hands.

Ignorantly he asks, “or what?”

Now fully paying attention to the interaction between the two, Five mutely warns his brother. Well, at least he tries. While Diego is pushing the knife hard enough that it draws blood, you can feel the decorative shards mold together, forming into a porcelain baton. Gripping the newly made weapon in your hands you glare at your assailant with narrowed eyes and a slightly bloody nose, you say in a low tone.

“Or I could leave you with a broken nose,” before he could question you swing the baton full force at his face. Knocking him backward that he lads on his back at the front of the stairs.

The group looks from you and their dazed brother in shock, they stand a lot straighter when they stand up fully, facing toward the siblings. With your hands and nose bleeding you face them with a challenging glare and tense shoulders.

“Now I said, no. Now you could leave while all of y’all are standing or we could do the hard way and y’all can live with the shame that a child took down The Umbrella Academy.”

Five blips in front of his siblings his glare and posture matching (Y/N)’s. They let a small smirk crawl on their face as they sigh in fake disappointment.

“I guess that some blood with shed today, I wasn’t hoping it will be yours, seeing as we meet again.”

Well he is my first fanfic, I’m sorry that it took so long for me to post this I’ve been busy w/ exams and finding some colleges. I hope I did well for my first post, this will probably get a part 2, I’m not entirely sure. I apologize for the lack of Five and Reader moments, and characters being ooc. If you see this on wattpad, especially by the author @/Ravenfashionista, that is me.

#black reader #five x black reader #gender neutral reader #black!reader #enemies to...#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #tua x black reader #five x gn!reader #five x reader #tua x reader #the-ravenist fanfic

188 notes · View notes

hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

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Thinking about a fake dating scenario like say Sweets family is always bothering her about not dating anyone and she lies and says “actually I am seeing someone!” But then they ask to meet the person so now she has to find someone ti be her fake date. I would imagine the boys would be fighting each other for a chance to do that.

I know this is super random haha I’m just talking to talk at this point.

YES! AND RANDOM IS GOOD 👏👏 talk the talk and walk the walk babes! Any ideas you have SPEAK ON IT!!! 💓

But omg you're right, they would

Sweetheart walked in the living room, where the team was sitting on the couch drinking beers. She was talking on the phone as she walked past them to the kitchen, not even noticing the boys.

And she's talking to her mom about her love life. Saying "Yes ma! I will bring him this time!" And "You can tell Danni to shut the hell up cause he is real". And then she says love you and hangs up the phone.

Sweetheart, looking at everybody:

The boys looking at her:

Sweetheart: Okay who wants to be my boyfriend for the day

then they all say M E

And all hell breaks loose 💀💀

Soap: What tae FUCK do y'mean 'mE', Ghost?

Ghost: the fuck do YOU mean 'mEaH', Mactavish?

Soap: I SAID ME

Ghost: nah see-- you did it again. 'MeAh'. It's two letters.

Soap: AH WULL PUMPIN' BREAK YE YAH BRITISH CRUMPET

Sweetheart: uhm, guys?

Gaz: Bitch don't even try

Horangi: And why should I listen to you?

Gaz: You get a nose bleed everytime Sweets hugs you.

Horangi: WHAT?? HOW DO-- HOW CAN YOU EVEN SEE THAT I WEAR A MASK

Gaz: it drips under it, bruv. And I don't think her parents want to witness an extremely touched starved man get an aneurysm everytime their daughter touches him.

Sweetheart: GOOD LORD GAZ--

Horangi: OH YOU THINK YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER? YOU CRY EVERYTIME SWEETHEART TELLS YOU A GOOD JOB

Gaz: YO I DO NOT-

Ghost: He cries when Capitan says it too.

Horangi: THAT TOO

Gaz: GHOST STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS

Price: You cry when I tell you good job?

Sweetheart, kinda touched but concerned: And you cry when I say it too?

Gaz: UHM- SIR I-- WELL SWEETS YOU-- FUCK

Krueger: Ignoring the emotionally unstable man--

Gaz: HEY

Krueger: You should take me, Kleine Göttin.

König: Don't, Sweets. You'll never return if you do

Krueger: König what the fuck

Krueger: You can't even talk your way into getting gas at a gas station, you think her parents want to see you freeze like a tortoise having sex when they talk to you?

König: AT LEAST I DONT SNIFF ANY SEATS SWEETHEART WAS IN

Krueger: THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS

König: IT HAS E V E R Y T H I N G TO DO WITH THIS

Sweetheart: Krueger-- YOU DO WHAT

Ghost: He also sniffs your hair

Sweetheart: You do that too, Ghost

Ghost, stares at Krueger: Not while you're sleeping.

Sweetheart: KRUEGER????

Krueger: GHOST SHUT THE FUCK U P

Alejandro: Please don't take Krueger, mama. He would end up in prison

Krueger: (angry German words)

Alejandro: You can take me! They'll love my charm.

Price: What, so you can flirt your way out of personal questions they'll most definitely ask you?

Ghost: Especially with that five-palm forehead you got

Alejandro: CÁLLATE LA BOCA DECORACIÓN DE HALLOWEEN

Rudy: Price, you have no say in this matter. You can practically be her father's golfing buddy.

Sweetheart: uhm, my dad doesn't golf--

Price: I'm 37 you fucking Muppet

Sweetheart: nevermind.

Rudy, surprised: Really?? Damn I didn't know that! You just looked like one of Super Mario's long lost cousins to me because of the janitor mustache you have on your old body

Price: Mother fucker--

Ghost: I don't think you would do well either when you look like a human gopher

Rudy: GHOST WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM

Alex: ROACH OW STOP HITTING MY FACE

Roach on Alex's shoulders:😠 pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap (like a fucking cat)

Sweetheart, rubbing her temples: Oh my fucking GOD- I'LL JUST CHOOSE MYSELF THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG AND GAZ LOOKS LIKE HES ABOUT TO CRY

Gaz, tearing up: I AM NOT

Soap: Me!

Horangi: It's me!

Graves, picking his nails:

Graves: It's probably not me.

Keegan: Uh... If it's no trouble, you can take me. I have to give your brother his game boy back anyway

Everyone looking at Keegan:

Soap: w u t

She takes Keegan.

(He honestly had a good time! Yes, he did start a fire with her siblings accidentally but other than that her parents loved him. Sweetheart sent pictures to everyone and omg they were so SALTY SAD AND JEALOUS. Ghost kinda smiled at a picture with Sweetheart and Keegan together, Keegan's face without the mask and grease paint wearing a nervous but kind smile. He looks happy. The others don't but they'll get over it someday💀💀)

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paperultra · 2 months

Text

THE FIVE NONSENSES

[ SOULMATE!AU ] Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well. read on ao3 | read on quotev

CHAPTER THREE: SMELL Word Count: 8,205 words Warnings: Swearing

“Hey, you! Join the photography club!”

You narrowly dodge the flyer thrust in front of your face, knocking back into someone in the process. Flustered, you move in the opposite direction, only to knock shoulders with another student walking the other way. Both of your apologies get lost in the noise.

“Join the basketball team! Winter Cup finalists two years in a row!”

“Improve your focus in calligraphy club!”

“Join kyudo club!”

“Join marching band!”

With a small huff, you grab the strap of Osamu’s schoolbag and squeeze through the crowd. Osamu looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his raised eyebrow with a grimace; not long after, a hand presses between your shoulder blades to usher you forward.

“Dammit,” Atsumu grumbles, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Where’s the volleyball club?”

“Hell if I know,” Osamu says. “Call Aran.”

“’S what I’m doin’, dumbass.” Punching a few buttons, the other boy presses his phone against his ear with visible impatience. “Aran!” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Atsumu’s voice carries high over the clamor surrounding you, causing several students to swivel their heads. “Where the hell’s the volleyball club? … Class 1-7? Seriously?”

Hanging up without so much as a thank-you, Atsumu quickens his stride down the congested hallway. Osamu follows suit, and you end up seizing the back of his blazer as the three of you head to Class 1-7, evading arms and signs and flyers the entire way.

Having visited the school before to watch Ojiro play, you had known that Inarizaki High School is big; navigating it as a student on the first day of school, however, is a whole different animal. You hadn’t realized it was this big. Or this crowded. After a year of being large fish in a small pond, you now find yourselves in an ocean.

At least you have the twins to rough it with.

(It should be noted that your thankfulness varies wildly from hour to hour.)

Near the entrance to Class 1-7, you spot Ojiro wielding a bright sign advertising the volleyball club. He easily stands head and shoulders above most of the other students, and the sight of a familiar face helps you relax – even though you’d just seen him at graduation a few weeks ago, he somehow looks older here, comfortable and self-assured in the raucous halls of Inarizaki.

“Yo! Aran!” Osamu and Atsumu call out, running up to the second-year. You, still holding onto Osamu’s blazer, are unceremoniously yanked along.

Ojiro perks up and grins widely when you all reach him, freeing one hand to bump fists with the twins. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Thought ya chickened out or somethin’,” he exclaims, then nods at you with a grin. “Good to see you here too, [L/n]-chan.”

You smile back. “Hi, Ojiro-senpai.”

(Of all the people the twins consider friends, which have always been rather scant in number, you like Ojiro Aran the best.)

“Chickened out?” Atsumu scoffs. “No way. You scrubs are gonna need us if ya wanna win nationals this year.”

A laugh bursts out of Ojiro’s chest. “Don’t ya think you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yerself?”

“Yeah, well, what’s new?” Osamu pipes up. He elbows his brother’s side, jabbing a thumb at the doorway when the latter chokes up and glares. “Hurry yer ass up, ‘Tsumu, we haven’t even signed up yet.”

You cough. Ojiro laughs again, leading the three of you into the classroom.

There’s a ton of students already inside when you enter. In one corner of the room is the girls’ volleyball club, and in the other is the boys’, though many are mingling and wandering around to chat. A few are upperclassmen wearing the Inarizaki volleyball team’s jacket – the rest, you assume, are first-years hoping for a chance to join.

It’s not surprising for a school that’s gone to the Spring Tournament almost thirty times. Most of these applicants will be benched for their entire high school career.

Following Ojiro to the desk for the boys’ volleyball club, you encounter the two people sitting behind it.

“Arata-senpai, Kobayashi-senpai,” Ojiro announces, clapping one hand on Osamu’s shoulder and the other on Atsumu’s, “got a package deal for ya.”

The first thing you notice about Arata is how tall he is when he’s sitting down. Then he slowly stands up, and your eyes widen as he keeps going and going, finally stopping about half a head taller than Ojiro.

Arata breathes in, vulpine eyes narrowing, before he slams his hands down on the desk with a loud thwap.

“If it ain’t the Miya twins!” he chirps, voice much peppier than expected, and you choke back a surprised laugh. “I watched yer match last year at nationals. You two think ya have what it takes to be part of a powerhouse?”

“Why talk big when we can just show ya, senpai?” Atsumu says, as if he hadn’t been gassing himself up to Ojiro moments before. He pulls out his signup sheet, already filled out in his usual large, messy print, and slides it over to the captain, leaning over the desk with one hand on his hip. “Got yers, ’Samu?”

“Yup.” Osamu slides his over as well, handwriting slightly neater.

Arata takes the sheets happily. Your gaze falls upon his hands by chance, and then it remains there, taking stock of the scribbles of purple and red decorating his skin.

Ojiro whistles. “Looks like yer soulmate’s havin’ fun with some gel pens,” he comments, pointing at Arata’s hands.

“Hm?” The other boy blinks and takes a moment to inspect the words curving below his knuckles. His brow furrows, and he squints before finally breaking out into a goofy smile. “Ah,” he says, and his voice takes on a distinctly fonder, dreamier tone, “guess they are. They’ve been practicin’ hiragana a lot lately. See? Pretty good, eh?” Arata stretches his hands out face-down, showing them off.

(You can barely read the characters.)

“Neat,” Atsumu says, though his tone has flattened just slightly.

“Right?” Arata doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re gonna finally see each other in person next summer after I graduate. They’re graduating high school this June in Spain …”

“He’s really excited,” Ojiro mutters to the three of you, “in case ya couldn’t tell.”

The volleyball captain’s cheeks turn an endearing shade of pink. “What’s wrong with that, huh, Ojiro? I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with them, so it’s a good sign I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

Next to you, Osamu shifts and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. You feel his elbow brush against your arm, bare skin separated by layers of fabric.

The rest of your life.

A strange feeling forms in the pit of your stomach. It’s the same kind you get whenever your parents ask about Osamu, and whenever you see couples wearing matching outfits at the mall – a feeling a little less than longing, and a little more than guilt. Like you ought to be doing more, saying more, expressing more. Feeling more.

You wonder what it is like to be Arata, infatuated, proudly flaunting the colors on his hands.

The girl sitting at the desk finally speaks up.

“I thought we were talkin’ about volleyball, not yer love life, Arata.”

Your gaze moves away from Arata’s wrists and onto the girl.

Still sitting, she and the captain paint a picture of a mouse and an elephant, her tiny form complemented by large, expressionless eyes and a small nose. The maroon jacket hanging off her shoulders looks one size too big.

And yet, when her gaze flicks over and meets yours, you’re overtaken by a sudden chill.

Scary.

Arata jumps and glances down at her. “O-Oh, right! Sorry, Kobayashi-chan, I guess I got carried away.”

“It’s fine.” Kobayashi continues to stare at you, and you start to feel slightly uncomfortable. “’S why I’m here.”

“Yeah!” Coughing, Arata rubs the back of his neck and turns his attention back to the twins. “Gettin’ back on track … if it isn’t obvious already, Kobayashi-chan is our manager. She’s real good. Real detailed.”

“But I’m also in my third year, which means we’re currently lookin’ for a new manager for next year,” Kobayashi supplies. “So if ya happen to know any first-years who’re qualified and willing to apply for the right reasons, please let me know.”

Your brow furrows at that.

“Whaddaya mean, ‘the right reasons’?” Osamu asks.

A sheepish laugh escapes Arata’s throat. “Well … the volleyball team’s pretty popular, so we get a lot of folks wantin’ to be manager just to get closer to the team and see if one of the members is their soulmate.” He sighs. “It’s not that I wanna keep any soulmates apart, but those kinds of applicants slow down the search, and obviously, we want a manager who actually wants to manage.”

Ah. Already, some of your peers already seem like they’re on a time crunch to find their person. Soulmates are getting to be a bigger and bigger deal as you get older, and with that comes certain expectations. It’s not hard to figure out why some would hope to have someone popular and athletic.

“Sorry, don’t know anybody like that,” Atsumu replies at the same time Ojiro says your name.

You look at your senior, surprised.

He directs a finger upwards. “Ya know volleyball pretty well,” he points out. “Wanna apply? You already manage the twins, after all.”

“Oi, what’s that s’posed to mean –”

Arata seems to finally notice you, eyebrows raising. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t see ya there,” he exclaims. “What’s yer name?”

Reluctantly, you step up next to Osamu and introduce yourself.

“[L/n]-chan. So ya know the twins?”

“I’ve lived on the same street as them since elementary school.”

“Really! Ya must know them well, then.”

“More than well,” says Kobayashi.

She points down at your hand. Arata follows her finger, and you resist the urge to curl your pinkie when his mouth drops.

“Oh, damn, you’re soulmates with – er, uh –”

Osamu and Atsumu just stand there, watching the captain flounder. After a few seconds, you reach up and tug Osamu’s earlobe sharply.

“Osamu,” you say, both as an answer and as a scolding, ignoring the muttered ‘ow’ coming from your right.

Clapping his hands, Arata nods. “You’re soulmates with Osamu-kun! Wow, that’s amazing. And you’ve been together since elementary school? He’d think and play better with you just bein’ there.”

You smile, embarrassed.

“That doesn’t make her the right candidate, Arata,” says Kobayashi. “Even if she really wants to manage the team, she might still prioritize Osamu-kun over everybody else. The last thing I want is a manager who picks favorites.”

She says it so bluntly, so seriously. Your smile weakens as her words hit a sore spot you didn’t know you even had.

There must be a good way to disagree. The two truths of the matter are that being a good manager would mean risking being a bad soulmate, and that being a good manager is a risk you can afford. Osamu isn’t the type of person who needs to be worried about. He gets scraped up, but he doesn’t mind it, and he knows his limits. If a player got hurt right as Osamu called you for something, you know you’d check on the other player first. Even if the other player was Atsumu. (Maybe.)

Osamu simply does not need you to take care of him. You don’t know how to express this without seeming like you don’t care as much as you should.

Atsumu cuts in before you can organize your thoughts into words.

“She wouldn’t,” he says, “unless it’s me. But ’Samu and I are soulmates, so we’re already at our best when we’re on the court.”

The upperclassmen before you tilt their heads simultaneously.

“… Wait,” Arata says after a while, slowly. “You’re tellin’ me that Osamu-kun has two soulmates?”

Osamu glances at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can only meet his eyes for a few seconds before you have to look at the ground.

“Guess I’m favored,” Osamu replies.

“Wow.” Huffing out a laugh, Arata crosses his arms. “Two soulmates … huh. I wonder how that works …” Kobayashi grunts and he clears his throat. “S-Sorry. Anyway, [L/n]-chan, if you’re interested in the manager position, just fill this out and give it to Kobayashi-chan. We’re taking applications until July first or until we find someone, whichever comes first.”

He hands you a sheet of paper, and you take it tentatively.

“My phone number’s at the top in case you have any questions,” Kobayashi adds. Her voice lowers, but its monotony remains. “And if ya end up applying, know that I won’t show any favoritism just because of yer soulmate.”

You take in a breath through your nose, fingers curling into the application in your hands. “Yeah, of course.”

She nods once, then leans back in her seat. The set of her mouth relaxes just slightly, and she crosses her arms, morphing from a cutthroat manager to a tired senpai.

“See ya after school. Good luck,” she says. Her eyes bore into yours. “To all of ya.”

There’s a moment of silent surprise between you, Osamu, and Atsumu. Then all three of you bow as Ojiro and Arata chuckle.

“Thank you!”

—

The twins, predictably, become one of three first-year regulars on Inarizaki’s boys’ volleyball team. You place your manager application in the top drawer of your desk, which you pull out frequently over the next three weeks just to stare at the blank form, unsure about the whole thing.

Saturday afternoon rolls around, and you’ve taken the paper out of your binder and set it on top of your desk at home when your phone buzzes.

Osamu: you home

You: yeah

Osamu: ok

And that’s it. You stare at your screen for a few seconds, unblinking, before you shoot up from your seat and scramble to your dresser to get changed.

Five minutes and a bit of haphazard cleaning later, there’s a few firm knocks on the front door, followed by incessant banging. You stalk over to open the door before it’s knocked off its hinges.

“I could hear you,” you tell Atsumu, unimpressed, as the two enter and shuck off their shoes.

“I know.”

He deftly dodges the kick you aim at his ankle. This usually happens nowadays, unfortunately, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

“’S just you here?” Osamu asks, shuffling into some slippers and walking further into the house. His gym bag hangs from his shoulder, big and bulky, and you look at it curiously.

“… Yeah?”

“Fer someone left home alone all the time, you’re duller than a rock,” Atsumu says. “Folks’re gone and ya don’t even throw a party? Geez.”

You narrow your eyes as he grins. “Maybe I just want peace and quiet after havin’ to sit in class with you all week, Atsumu. Anyways, why are you guys here?”

You receive no answer. After eyeing the kitchen, Osamu turns and heads down the hallway, prompting you to follow. You’re further confused when he enters the bathroom and sets his bag on the countertop.

As he unzips it, Atsumu squeezes past you and reaches into the bag, pulling out a –

A shower cap.

“… Is the shower at yer place broken or something?”

“No,” Osamu says, and he pulls something else out. “Ma’s home.”

You stare at the box in his hands. Then you look back up at the twins.

“She’s gonna kill you.”

—

Watching Osamu and Atsumu bleach each other’s hair is like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Their dark T-shirts have speckles of orange on them, there are bits of foil littering the sink and the bathroom floor, and the acrid stench of bleach filling the bathroom is starting to creep down the hallway. You can only hope it doesn’t linger past Sunday night when you go back to the dorms.

“If you screw this up, I’m shaving yer giant head in yer sleep.”

“I’m doin’ it better than you did, ya scrub!”

You stand outside, shirt collar pulled up and over your nose, as Atsumu finishes combing through the top part of Osamu’s hair. It’s an incredible thing to witness: Osamu sitting on the shower seat, hunched over and holding a sheet of foil over his undercut while Atsumu hangs over him, wearing one of the shower caps to keep his own hair out of the way. It’s also a disaster.

You lift your phone up to snap a quick picture.

“Oi! What’re ya doin’?”

“Making a present for Ojiro.” Upon viewing the photographic evidence, you realize something. “You’re not gonna tell Auntie that you dyed yer hair at my house, right?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Osamu assures, letting Atsumu hold onto the foil while he pulls on a shower cap. He sets a timer, and the two of them hurry out of the bathroom to escape the fumes. “She won’t be thinkin’ about the details when she finds out.”

“Like she’d ever blame ya, anyway.” Atsumu scoffs. “You’re the favorite and you ain’t even her kid.”

“Well, I don’t wanna take my chances.” You recall the countless number of times the twins had received a whooping for something stupid they did, and the countless number of times you had just barely managed to slip under the radar by keeping your mouth shut. “Y’know, she might make ya dye it black again if the school doesn’t like it.”

“Please. If anything, they’ll thank us fer givin’ them an easy way to tell us apart.”

“Is that why you’re dyein’ yer hair? You’re already in different classes.”

“It ain’t fer class,” Osamu says. “It’s fer volleyball.”

Atsumu presses his back against the wall and slides down to the floor, pulling up a game on his phone. “Some of the scrubs still can’t tell us apart on court,” he sniffs. “’M tired of it.”

That, you think, makes a lot more sense.

Osamu and Atsumu have always taken full advantage of being identical twins. You’ve seen them pull just about every stunt in the book – switching the way they part their hair on random days, pretending to be the other when one of them gets in trouble, making money off classmates who bet on knowing who’s who (and lying on more than one occasion). Looking alike isn’t usually a point of contention between them.

When it does bother them, volleyball is usually involved. They don’t always wear different shirts or numbered jerseys at practice, and you’ve been to enough of them to know that this can cause issues at the beginning of the year. The coach calls out the wrong name, a teammate calls for Osamu when they mean Atsumu, things like that.

They get especially miffed when one gets praised for something the other did. Atsumu, in particular, hates that the most.

“Ya have anythin’ to eat?”

Head snapping up, you look at Osamu and nod halfway through absorbing what he’s just asked. “There’s leftover onigiri in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard,” you reply, stepping over Atsumu’s outstretched legs to lead his brother towards the kitchen.

(“Heat up an onigiri fer me,” Atsumu calls out.)

(“Get it yerself, lazy-ass,” Osamu shoots back.)

In the kitchen, you fish out the last two onigiri the twins’ mom had given you yesterday and present them to Osamu.

“Here. You and Atsumu can each have one.”

“These the ones with salted salmon?”

You nod.

Osamu thinks for a moment. His lips purse, his eyelids droop, and even though he kind of looks like a lunch lady with that shower cap on, it’s cute.

“I’ll make ochazuke and yaki onigiri,” he decides. “What do ya want?”

“I’ll just have some chips or something. I just ate lunch, so I’m not that hungry.”

He stares at you, then accepts the onigiri from your hands. “Okay.”

Putting the rice balls on the counter next to the stove, Osamu retrieves a small plate, a bowl, and a mug from the cupboard. He finds most of everything else pretty quickly – the cast iron skillet under the oven, the spatula in the drawer right next to the fridge, and the soy sauce and oil in the lower corner cabinet. The only thing he asks for you to locate is the green tea, which you get from the depths of the second shelf in the pantry.

While he works, you grab a bag of your favorite chips and pop it open, leaning against the unused counter on the other side of the stove to watch.

You like it whenever Osamu cooks. The click of the stovetop turning on, the curve of oil being poured into the skillet, and you’re rocking gently in a small boat, curled up in an overstuffed chair on a rainy day.

(It’s an extension of how he feels, you’ve learned – for as much as Miya Osamu loves volleyball, he loves food just a teeny bit more.)

When the oil is hot enough, he unwraps one of the onigiri and places it in.

You turn the opening of your chip bag towards him as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Here,” you offer once he notices.

“Thanks.”

Atsumu’s onigiri sizzles in the skillet while the water for Osamu’s tea continues to heat up. Osamu mirrors your posture on his side of the stove, messily crunching down on several chips, and the two of you wait.

“Didja apply for the manager position yet?”

You swallow too early, rough shards of chips cutting down your throat. Fighting the urge to cough, you shake your head and reach for the water you’d left on the table this morning. “No. Still thinkin’ about it.” He hums. “You guys haven’t found one yet?”

“Kobayashi-senpai’s real picky.” He flips the onigiri over with one sharp push of the spatula, brushing soy sauce over the freshly grilled side. The water boiler beeps right after, and he seamlessly transitions over to pour the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Most of the applicants we saw were annoyin’, anyway.”

“Oh.”

You recall the last practice you’d attended, watching from the balcony with your homework as the team ran laps around the court. The applicant on trial that day had watched them go by a few times, still and proper, before suddenly turning to Kobayashi and excusing themselves from the gym. They never came back.

On the walk back to the dorms that evening, Atsumu explained that the student had a counter for how many times their soulmate would pass by them.

(“Waste of time n’ space,” he’d complained. “Who’d wanna be with someone that desperate?”)

“Ya wouldn’t be half bad at it.”

“… Yeah …”

“If ya don’t wanna apply, just say so.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t know if I’ll wanna do it for the next three years.”

“Whaddaya want to do, then?”

“I dunno.” With a sigh, you set your bag of chips down. “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to apply.”

Osamu shrugs. “If ya are,” he says, turning off the stove top, “don’t do it just ’cause of me.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, sharp and knowing as he flips the yaki onigiri onto the plate he’d pulled out earlier.

After calling Atsumu, who had migrated to the living room couch while he had been waiting, the twins scarf down their afternoon snack in no time at all and raid your cupboard for the complimentary snacks your parents usually bring back from their trips.

Halfway into his fourth wafer, Atsumu’s timer goes off.

“Oh, shit.” Shoving the rest of the wafer into his mouth and silencing the alarm, Atsumu gets up and eagerly makes a beeline to the bathroom.

“… Do ya think it worked?” you mutter as you and Osamu stand up more slowly.

“I dunno.”

A loud swear explodes from the bathroom.

You look at each other sharply. Wiping the crumbs from your lips, the two of you run over to investigate.

As you get closer, you hear the sink running, then Atsumu muttering underneath his breath.

When you peek into the bathroom, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Osamu says, leaning past you to get a better look. “’Tsumu, ya look like a carrot.”

“Shaddup, ’Samu,” Atsumu moans, rinsing his hair angrily. “I know. Fuck.”

Hair bleach on dark hair, as you find out, works similarly to hair bleach on dark fabric. Contrary to the sandy blond the older twin had desired, the result he had gotten is instead a bright, burnt yellow-orange matching the stains on his T-shirt. Not carrot, necessarily, but definitely not blond.

“Ugh.” Nose and forehead wrinkling, Atsumu leans toward the mirror, pinching a section of hair between his fingers. “It … it ain’t that bad, right?” His pitch rises with the slightest hint of denial. “I’m pullin’ it off.”

“It’s that bad,” Osamu says.

“’Samu!”

“Maybe you can bleach it again?” you suggest.

“And then his hair falls out? Bad idea.”

“Dye it, then, like you are.”

“We don’t have money left to buy a different color.” With a sigh, Osamu puts his hands on his hips. “Damn. Sorry, ’Tsumu.”

Atsumu groans and thunks his forehead against the mirror, dripping water all the way down its surface onto the counter. His frustration is so palpable that you can feel it prickling your skin.

If he hadn’t been so excited before, you’d probably poke fun. You should poke fun, but the disappointed twist of his lips and the droopiness of his sopping wet hair just makes you feel bad. He looks like a wet puppy.

Dammit.

You take your phone out.

Osamu tracks the movement. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Lookin’ something up.” You press on the first link you see, skim the webpage quickly, and put your phone back into your pocket. “I’m headin’ out fer a bit. Stay here.”

“… ’Kay.”

“Whatever,” Atsumu grumbles.

After grabbing your wallet and checking its contents, you head outside to drag your bike out from underneath the vacant carport. And as you hop onto the seat, pedaling down towards the nearest drugstore, you tell yourself that Atsumu better thank you on his hands and knees once you get back.

—

“Blue shampoo?” Atsumu’s tone is suspicious as he slathers the back of Osamu’s hair in grey dye.

“It’s supposed to cancel out the orange.” Turning the bottle to face you, you read the description beneath the brand name. “‘Eliminates brassy, orange undertones.’ See?”

“It ain’t gonna fuck up my hair even more?”

“’Course not,” you retort, all hopes of veneration quickly fading away. “I ain’t an asshole, Atsumu.”

His eyebrow twitches, hands slowing. You take the opportunity to place the bottle sideways in the crook of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head to hold it in place.

“Oi –”

“Go try it. I’ll finish Osamu’s hair.”

“Yer so bossy,” Atsumu grumbles, but he lets you nudge him out the way, peeling his gloves off and grabbing the shampoo.

You snap some gloves on in turn, keeping one eye on Osamu’s hair and the other on Atsumu as he ducks his head beneath the sink faucet. They’d pretty much finished up applying the dye for Osamu, at least from what you can tell, so you start combing through the locks with your fingers to make sure everything is covered.

Miya hair is very thick. Soft, too. You hope all this bleaching and dyeing won’t ruin it too much.

“Hm,” Osamu hums abruptly.

You stop. “What?”

“Nothin’.” You furrow your brow but resume, only to just barely hear him mumble, “… Feels nice.”

Oh.

A smile crawls onto your lips without warning, the space behind your ribcage suddenly cozy and soft.

“Alright, I’m doin’ it,” Atsumu announces. You look up just in time to see him squeeze a dollop of shampoo into his hand. “Euch! It’s so blue!”

“Why do ya sound so surprised?!”

“Shaddup, I just wasn’t expectin’ it to be so dark! … Smells okay, though …”

While the shampoo does its work on Atsumu’s hair, you take a little extra time combing Osamu’s. He remains quiet and still, thumbs tapping idly on the dark screen on his phone. You wait for him to make more snide remarks at Atsumu’s expense or complain about the smell of the dye, but he doesn’t.

You eventually finish up while the water still runs blue and sudsy into the bowl of the sink. Osamu mutters a thank you and ambles off after eyeing his brother for a few seconds. You linger for a while longer.

(God, you hope it works. If not for Atsumu’s sake, then for your pride and your wallet.)

After what seems like forever, he rinses out the last of the shampoo, wrings his hair out a bit, and straightens up to look in the mirror.

You examine his reflection as well. It’s less orange, yes, but still not as light as he had wanted, more gold than sand. Not necessarily good, but certainly less bad.

Atsumu fixates on the more muted shade of his hair for a minute or two. His lips press downwards at the corners, and then they part to say your name.

You blink.

“What?”

“Why’d ya buy the shampoo?”

He sounds almost accusatory, but not quite; there’s an undertone that you very, very rarely hear in his voice. He meets your eyes in the mirror, hair a dripping, tangled mess.

“… ’Cause I felt bad fer ya,” you admit unwillingly. Atsumu makes a face, and you sharpen your tongue, because that is what feels comfortable with him. Normal. “And I didn’t want to hear ya mopin’ and complainin’ about it all week.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he persists. “I coulda pulled it off.”

You scoff. “Just ’cause you’re taller than most of the school doesn’t mean they wouldn’t’a noticed. And anyways, it’s better now, ain’t it?”

“I didn’t ask ya to buy it.”

“Ya didn’t even know what it was until I told you.”

“An’ if I did, I still wouldn’t’ve asked!”

“Yeah, ’cause yer prideful ass would rather die than ask fer help!” you snap, jabbing his bicep with your finger. “God! I knew ya wouldn’t even say thank you!”

“Well, if ya knew I was gonna be a dick about it, why’d ya waste yer money?!”

“I felt bad fer ya!” you screech. “My mistake!”

“Yeah, yer mistake!” Atsumu shouts back.

Chest heaving for breath, you glare at him. He glares in return. Temper pinks his face and the tips of his ears, flares his nostrils and curls his lip in that fierce and familiar way. In the back of your mind, you know you are doing the same.

Asshole.

You’re angry, yes. And offended, and exasperated, and and and –

And hurt.

“It’s so hard,” you say, your voice deciding to crack at the worst time possible, “to be nice to you sometimes, Atsumu.”

When the words leave your throat, his face grows blank in that way you’ve always hated, his mouth pressing into a fine line.

“So?” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “Forget it.”

Casting one last glance at the bottle of shampoo next to the sink, you clench your fists and turn to leave. What a waste of money. This is the last time you’re ever going to feel bad for him.

A hand wraps around your elbow upon your first step outside the bathroom.

“… Are ya cryin’?”

“No,” you bite, wishing he hadn’t asked because now you do feel like crying, just a little bit.

Atsumu pauses for an excruciating moment. You can practically feel his distaste for whatever words he’s about to say.

“I’ll pay ya back,” he mutters. “Fer the shampoo.”

“No.”

“Whaddaya mean, no?”

“I don’t want yer money.”

“Well, what do ya want, ’cause I ain’t owin’ ya anything.”

“I want a thank you.”

“… Can’t I just –”

“No.”

Atsumu throws his hands up. “Fine!” he says. “Thanks fer buyin’ somethin’ I didn’t ask fer! There, ya happy now?”

“I want ya to mean it,” you say quietly.

“I did mean it.”

You cross your arms.

He groans. Glancing around as if checking for hidden cameras, Atsumu slowly pushes his bangs away from his face and wipes his nose, sniffing.

“… Fine,” he eventually grumbles at the floor tiles. Cheeks puffed, he looks up at you from the corner of his eye and scratches the back of his head. “The shampoo fixed it a little bit,” the words struggle their way out of his mouth, “so … thanks … fer gettin’ it fer me. Ya didn’t have to.”

He looks like he’s just eaten soap, his ears still red, and that’s how you know he’s being sincere. Your shoulders relax a little bit.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Atsumu’s expression, almost doleful for just that moment, blooms into something more sarcastic once you accept his gratitude. He gestures at the doorway behind you. “Can I go now?”

“Dry the mirror and the counter first.”

“But I said thank you.”

You throw a towel at his face and walk away, more satisfied than not.

—

“How’s Osamu-kun doing?”

You prop your phone up against the wall behind your desk, tilting your pen between your fingers. “He’s fine, Ma.”

“Did ya tell him how good his curry is? He makes it better than me.”

“Yeah, he says he’s glad you guys like it.”

After resolving the blue shampoo issue with Atsumu on Saturday, you’d gone back to the kitchen and found Osamu chopping vegetables and tofu next to the sink. At first, you figured he was hungry again, but upon your questioning, he’d only denied it.

(“’S fer you.”

“… Fer me? No, you don’t have to –”

“Yeah, I know. Ya don’t like the curry at the cafeteria, so bring mine back to the dorm and save it in the fridge fer later. If ya don’t want it, leave it fer yer folks to eat when they get back.”)

He didn’t leave much room for debate. And since he was using your family’s food to make it anyway, you accepted, a bit perplexed but happy nonetheless. You hadn’t expected him to remember your complaint about the cafeteria’s bland curry.

The amount he made was enough to fill two Tupperware containers, one of which you left for your parents when they returned two days later. Needless to say, they were delighted.

“What a thoughtful boy. He’s so good to you, honey.”

You smile, walking back to your desk. “Yeah.”

(“Ya like dark chocolate in it, right?”)

Your mom sighs. It’s a familiar sigh, and you click your pen, knowing what she is about to say before she even takes a breath.

“I just don’t know why he hasn’t asked ya out yet.”

You can hear your dad speak up between chews in the background. “It ain’t like how it was back when we were young, dear. Soulmates these days don’t like makin’ things so formal and official.”

“Oh, I know, but wouldn’t it be sweet? I was so happy when we went on our first official date.”

“The one at the konbini ’cause I couldn’t afford anythin’ nicer?”

“Yes. I loved it.”

“I know. You were smilin’ the whole time.”

“Glad you’re still in love,” you say dryly when they giggle over the phone, your nose wrinkling when your dad comes into view to give your mom a loud smooch. During these moments, you wish you’d called instead. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know, I know. Honey, you should bring Osamu-kun somethin’ fer his next game! A snack fer afterwards. He’ll like that.”

“Okay.” You’ve done that before. The first time you gave him an orange in your first year of junior high, he and Atsumu squabbled over dividing it for five minutes. Now you get double portions whenever you have the compulsion to bring something after games, just to keep the peace.

“Speaking of games …”

Here we go.

“… Have ya applied to be the manager for the volleyball team yet?”

“Um.” Glancing at the wall to your right, you click your pen some more, taking your time to answer. “I filled the form out …”

“[Y/n]! If ya dawdle, someone else’ll snatch it up. When’s it due?”

“July first or until they find someone.”

“Turn it in tomorrow!”

“Okay, okay.”

Your mom sighs again, and she places a bowl down onto the table. “… Otherwise, are ya okay? I’m sorry we missed ya at home.”

“It’s fine. I hung out with Kokomi and the twins. How was yer anniversary?”

“We’ll make sure we’re home next time you’re on weekend leave. And it was lovely! Oh, honey, ya should’ve seen the fish yer pa caught …”

You talk with your parents until they finish their dinner, hanging up once they’ve started cleaning up. As soon as the video cuts out, you release a breath and turn your phone face-down.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous about applying for the manager position. It’s the natural thing to do, because it’s natural to want to be involved with something Osamu is interested in, his own opinion on the matter notwithstanding. You think you might like being a manager. It’s not like you want to do something else more.

Getting rejected by Kobayashi would be horrible, though.

Maybe you’ll wait a little longer to turn your application in. Polish it up some more, and such.

—

After volleyball practice ends, and after everyone who had lingered behind to practice some more is ready to call it a night, Atsumu tells you and Osamu that he’s staying a little longer to practice his jump float serves.

“Are ya sure? Cafeteria’s servin’ all-you-can-eat pasta for dinner.”

“I’ll be done before it closes.”

Osamu doesn’t look convinced. To be fair, neither are you; Atsumu often loses track of time when he stays behind, resulting in an extra hungry, extra irritable Atsumu.

“Atsumu,” you say.

He huffs at you. “Seriously, I will!” he insists, before turning to walk back to the end line. You, Osamu, Ginjima, Akagi, and Ojiro all look on helplessly as he throws a volleyball into the air and gives himself a running start.

“Don’t worry,” Kobayashi says, grabbing your attention just as he jumps. She holds up the key to the gymnasium. “I’ll kick him out before he misses dinner.”

Ojiro, ever the responsible one, lets out a noise of protest. “Senpai, I can lock up. You should go.”

“No, it’s fine.” Though her tone is impassive, she makes it clear that her mind is set as she waves him off. “I’m goin’ out to eat with my boyfriend later, anyway.”

You blink.

Though Ojiro is visibly reluctant, he acquiesces. “… Okay. Thank you, Kobayashi-senpai.”

“Mmhm,” Kobayashi hums, and her gaze falls upon you. “Make sure they get to the cafeteria in one piece, [L/n]-chan.”

“I will, senpai.”

You wait outside while the guys change out of their gym clothes and gather their things. Once they exit the building, you join them, listening idly to their chatter about today’s practice as the five of you trek towards the cafeteria.

“Hey, Ojiro-senpai, Akagi-senpai,” Ginjima speaks up during a lull in the conversation. “What Kobayashi-senpai said earlier …”

Attention piqued, you look at your upperclassmen for their reactions to Ginjima’s question. Next to you, Osamu does little to hide his curiosity as well.

Ojiro and Akagi, in turn, share a glance, and Ojiro raises an eyebrow at Ginjima.

“Yeah?” Ojiro replies.

“Well, y’know …” Ginjima presses expectantly, “when she said that she has a boyfriend, did she mean …?”

“That’s somethin’ you can ask Kobayashi-senpai about, ain’t it?”

You imagine doing just that and cringe.

Ginjima’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “Well –!” he replies, a bit too loudly. “I would, but I don’t want her to think I’m bein’ judgmental or somethin’. Plus, I’m just a first-year …”

“Aw, I think it’s fine if they know, Aran. It ain’t like she’s hidin’ it or anythin’,” Akagi says. Ojiro looks up for a moment in thought, then shrugs tentatively, and Akagi smiles at you and the two boys. “Kobayashi-senpai’s not datin’ her soulmate. They’re pretty serious, too.”

Ojiro rests his hands behind his head. “He’s a nice guy. Comes to games sometimes.”

“Oh, I see …”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new piece of information. Kobayashi has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that she goes on dates with, one she really likes. You wonder how long they’ve been together.

You wonder if Kobayashi’s met her soulmate yet.

“E-Excuse me! Hello!”

The quick patter of footsteps interrupts your train of thought. Glancing behind you, you stop short when you see one of your classmates running up to your group, waving one hand and holding a camera in the other. The golden orange of the sky burnishes her red hair.

“Naruko-san,” you and Ginjima greet at the same time. Ginjima laughs.

“Sorry to bother ya!” Naruko bows and quickly straightens, holding her camera up and smiling nervously. “I-I was just takin’ some pictures for photography club, and I was wonderin’ if you guys would mind me takin’ a picture?”

“How long’s it gonna take?” Osamu asks.

“Not too long. Five minutes? U-Unless y’all are in a hurry to get somewhere …”

“Not too much of a hurry. Just wanna make it to dinner.” Ojiro smiles, patting Osamu and Akagi’s backs. “Where do ya want us?”

Naruko brightens, her cheeks going red. “J-Just keep walkin’! The lighting’s perfect right now, and I wanna take a picture of yer backs with yer volleyball jackets on.” She glances at you, and her expression grows more nervous. “Er …”

You lock eyes with her for a few seconds before catching on. Nodding, you take a step towards Naruko to join her.

Osamu’s hand grasps your shoulder.

His hold is loose, but you bite back the urge to slump over at the sudden warmth of it, pausing instead to look back at him.

“Where’re ya goin’?”

You answer tentatively. “I don’t have a team jacket.”

“That’s fine. You’re walkin’ with us too.”

“Yeah, but …” You wet your lips. “Like, visually, it’ll look weird if one person doesn’t have one on …”

The corner of Osamu’s mouth twitches, and he frowns. You watch as his gaze moves past your shoulder. A sudden, brief twinge of irritation, not belonging to you, zings through your ribcage.

“Why’s that matter?”

“Yeah. C’mon, it’ll be fine,” Ojiro says.

“It’s okay!” Naruko suddenly blurts, and you jolt slightly, looking back at her. She bounces on her feet, voice even higher pitched. “I can do a more candid shot, now that I think about it! A-Actually, Miya-san, could ya give [L/n]-san yer jacket? And Ginjima-san, you can keep yers around yer waist …”

Her sudden change in idea perplexes you a bit. But Osamu seems to be satisfied, and he shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders.

After a bit of hesitation, you slide your arms through the sleeves.

(It’s just as warm.)

“Ooh, [L/n]-chan’s wearin’ Osamu’s jacket,” Ginjima teases behind his hand, and your face heats up.

“Okay.” Behind you, Naruko lets out a wistful-sounding sigh. “I’m ready. Y’all can start walkin’ now, just like ya were before.”

With only a bit of self-consciousness, the five of you follow her instructions. There are only a few clicks of the camera before Naruko calls out her thanks and goes off without another word, leaving you and the boys to speculate whether you’ll ever see the results.

“How cute,” Akagi comments. “She looked like she was gonna throw up, though.”

“I hope those were conflicting statements.”

“Okay, Aran, I wasn’t implying …”

While the two upperclassmen start to banter, you move to take Osamu’s jacket off, only for him to stop you.

“’S fine,” he says. “You can wear it if ya want.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And so you do.

—

The boys’ first practice game in July is brutal.

Many of your peers have come to watch. It’s a favorite after-school pastime of Inarizaki’s student populace, you’ve quickly discovered, to hop from one athletic club to the other simply to spectate and speculate. People pack the balcony and peek around the doorway, catching the scent of blood and sweat.

Between the crowd’s cheering and jeering, the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor, and the sound of palms ramming into volleyballs, the atmosphere is sharp, almost electric – something that you feel tingling on your skin as you stand on the sidelines, Kobayashi right by your side.

Atsumu delivers another devastating service ace. It ricochets off the corner of the other side of the court with a thunderous boom.

“Did you catch that, [L/n]-chan?” Kobayashi asks, arms crossed. “That was one of his better ones.”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t.”

“Hm.”

You watch the slow, satisfied stretch of Atsumu’s smile, and wait patiently. “It’s okay. He ain’t done yet.”

Indeed, Atsumu is just getting started. You spare an amused glance at Osamu in front of the net, his hands locked protectively behind his head, before turning back to Atsumu as the volleyball is thrown back to him.

Raising your camera, you adjust the focus, finger ready on the shutter button.

Toss. Run. Jump.

Click.

On your other side, a girl pumps her fists and cheers.

“Wow! Another one!” she gushes.

You smile behind your lens. “Ya always sound so impressed, Tsubaki-chan.”

“I’m just excited! We’re crushin’ them in the last set!”

“’Course we are,” says Kobayashi. “Our offense is that much better. I’m a little disappointed.”

As your upperclassman patiently points out each player’s strengths and weaknesses, you keep an eye on the team and crouch low. You’ve got plenty of photos now that the game’s nearing its end – lots of sets, a few spikes and digs, some flashy jump serves. Hopefully, some of them have turned out halfway decent. Even though you’d widened the aperture to make up for the gym’s crappy lighting and adjusted the shutter speed for blurring, you still worry about your timing.

By the time Inarizaki scores the winning point, you’ve moved to the opposite end of the court and have to race back to capture their reactions.

One thing you like about the volleyball team is how expressive they are. Joy, passion, pride – off the high of a victory, they bare everything, whether it’s through their expressions or the way they move or both.

Tsubaki says your name excitedly as soon as the teams have finished thanking each other, tugging on your arm. “Can I see the action shots, [Y/n]-chan?” she requests.

“Ah, sure.”

You turn the camera towards her, and she leans in as you scroll through the photos, her grin widening.

“Wow! Yer timin’s amazin’. They look so cool!”

The praise brings summer to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you reply genuinely. After a moment of hesitation, you lift the camera again. “Smile, Manager-san?”

Tsubaki doesn’t hesitate to broaden her already present grin, throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Kobayashi looks your way as well, and you take one shot, knowing it will be kept.

“Cute!” Tsubaki exclaims.

Two shadows loom over your shoulders as the girl bestows you with another compliment. When you turn your head to the right, your nose nearly brushes Osamu’s cheek.

“Ya got any good shots of us, [Y/n]?” Atsumu asks expectantly.

“Yes, actually, I did,” you reply, going back through the camera roll with a particular image in mind. You’re only vaguely aware of the warmth they exude as they budge into your personal space, the smell of sweat lingering on their skin. “Here.”

You’re particularly proud of this one. It had been a split second of pure luck, standing on the sidelines when a window of opportunity opened for a fast-tempo set. You had felt it – you knew Atsumu would set to Osamu, and as Osamu jumped, arm reared back as Atsumu sent the ball to him, you had captured it.

Somehow, you always get the timing right with them.

“Cool,” the twins approve proudly.

“Email that one to us, will ya?” Atsumu says. “I ain’t lettin’ you photography nerds hoard it away.”

“She’s sendin’ all these to Arata-senpai, ya dolt.”

“Hey, I wanna see!” Gintama breaks into your little group, trying to sneak a peek in. “Did ya get one of my spikes?”

“Yeah, how about my jump serve?”

“That super cool block me and Ren did in the second set!”

“Didja get one of Coach?”

One by one, the team gathers around you, eager for a glimpse of their successes. The crowding is uncomfortable, but you try your best to show them what you can anyway, feeling a rare sense of pride about your own accomplishments.

You’re happy with your choice.

Tsubaki will be a great manager. Even when you first met her, you knew she had everything she'd need for the job – a passion for the sport, a desire to help others succeed, and an endless amount of perseverance. Inarizaki couldn’t ask for a better person to replace Kobayashi next year. She’ll do well in what she’s decided to do.

And so will you.

—

#haikyuu #hq #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #yeah i got carried away LOL #the miya twins giving themselves terrible dye jobs lives rent free in my head #atsumu's especially. i KNOW they screwed up with his #that color looks way too close to a bleach gone wrong on black hair and he just made it his brand for the rest of high school #this is spiraling i am spiraling #kobayashi i'll miss you i loved thinking you up #the five nonsenses

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astraeaalstroemeria · 9 months

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1989 (Taylor's Version) Special

In the honor of the album, I will be taking character requests for each songs. BUT once the character is on a song, requesting a different character to the same song is a no-no. (To know which characters I write for, check my main masterlist.)

Rules & Navigation | Main Masterlist

INSPIRED BY: @ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes

REMINDER: Please always check my R & N whether you are reading a work of mine or requesting in order to properly understand my rules. Thank you! Happy Reading!

Welcome to New York - Dick Grayson (request)

Blank Space - Remus Lupin (request)

Style - James Potter (request)

Out of the Woods - Regulus Black (request)

All You Had To Do Was Stay - Xavier Thorpe (request)

Shake It Off - Klaus Hargreeves (by astraea)

I Wish You Would - Jason Todd (request)

Bad Blood - Tyler Galpin (request)

Wildest Dreams - Regulus Black (request)

How You Get The Girl - Sirius Black (request)

This Love - Sirius Black (request)

I Know Places - Regulus Black (request)

Clean - Sirius Black (request)

Wonderland - Jason Todd (request)

You Are In Love - Remus Lupin (request)

New Romantics - Remus Lupin (request)

“Slut!” (FTV) - Dick Grayson (request)

Say Don't Go (FTV) - Kaz Brekker (request)

Now That We Don't Talk (FTV) - (blank)

Suburban Legends (FTV) - (blank)

Is It Over Now? (FTV) - Dick Grayson (request)

Requests are open for this special !

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korizzybee · 4 months

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Hello my loves!

Request box is open!

Reblogs are appreciated!

Rules:

- character must be 18 or older for smut

- I don’t write for racism, homophobia, transphobia, or rape (you will get blocked)

- I will write headcanons, scenarios, drabbles, SFW/fluff, NSFW

- I only write for black people (if you want male or gn black readers it must be said in the request or it will automatically be female)

- I do not change canon characters sexualities, Ex. Nico Di Angelo x female reader (he’s gay)

- do not rush me to write your request it will get posted when it gets posted

Masterlists

Anime

- My Hero Academia

- Demon slayer

- Jujutsu Kaisen

- Attack on Titan

- Tokyo Revengers

- Bungo Stray Dogs

- Fairy Tail

- Hunter x Hunter

- One Piece (Live Action)

- Vanitas No Carte

Non Anime

- PJO (book series)

- PJO (tv series)

- Avatar (James Cameron)

- The Umbrella Academy

- Stranger Things

- Shameless

- Spiderman (ATSV+ITSV)

Fics

- none yet

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the-doctor-3000 · 2 years

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HC: Five developing feelings for the Handler's biological daughter who is almost like Black Widow.

Ok, you guys first met in the Commission.

Obviously.

You were at least in your 30s.

Your mother put you in charge of Five and keep an eye on him.

Since you are the best spy and assassin.

Let me say that you two didn't get along very well.

At first.

You didn't like him because of his disinterest in working with you.

Five didn't like you because he thought you were just like your mother.

(Little did he know that you actually hated her)

He started falling for you when you skillfully "handled" someone, who would be a threat to the timeline, with your device called Widow's Bite.

You made this whole thing looking like art to him.

And when you told him that you made that weapon. He is more than impressed.

After some time passed, his feelings grew stronger and you felt like you could trust him.

So you told him that you planned on bringing your mother down.

He highly approved.

He then revealed that he was going to probe the cause of the apocalypse.

You agreed to help him travel back in time.

When you two succeeded, there was a small problem.

You both were transferred back to your teenage bodies.

And. . .

You meet his family.

Yay!

"Five's got a girlfriend!" the one you assumed to be Klaus exclaimed in a cheery tone

"He/She is not my boyfriend/girlfriend!!" both you and Five said, the latter flushed slightly

You were shocked!

Five, blushing? Yup, this was the end of the world.

His brothers - mostly Klaus and Diego a bit - start teasing him for his crush.

They would say stuff like "Here's mister Five and his missus.", "Does anyone hear the wedding bells?" or "Make way for the future couple."

But what would get on your nerves and make you both a blushing mess would be when one of them called you an old couple.

Like, you guys would start bickering about ways to stop the apocalypse and Diego would just blurt out "You guys know that you act like an old married couple, right?"

Your brow twitched in anger and with a growl you threw a knife right past his head, cutting some of his hair in the process.

You glare at Diego with a look that could kill as if to say 'Don't mess with me.'

Five just looked at you a bit dreamily with a proud and lovely smile.

After that, you are not sure how to face Five without blushing.

#tua x reader #five x reader #five x y/n #the umbrella academy #tua s1 #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #tua season one #the handler #black widow #help i saw the 3rd season of tua and i can't stop crying

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suekeyyyy · 6 months

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Number Zero.

Five Hargreaves x Sparrow! black reader,NOT A CHAPTER.

Summary: Diana is a Sparrow that was born with wings. She flying because of how light they were and flexible. But for the most part, she hinds them one day, and she walks into her living room and see Seven Stranger in her house, but she just ignored them.

Warnings: Fluff, Bad words, violence, nudity, flirting, age gap, Smut?, drinking, smoking, death, powers.

..............................................................................................................

Diana is 28 and has four different powers, and all of them are connected to her wings.

ONE: She can walk through any solid objects whenever she walks through the thing, and it leaves a pile feather behind.

TWO: Diana can fly that simple she can fly like birds do.

THREE: Diana and suck the life out of someone's body if she looks at them. An what thus power she can move their blood around.

FOUR: She has mind control not as power ful as Allison but just enough to get her what she wants.

Her wings:

Next chapter:

#x black fem reader #x black reader #x reader #tua #tua five #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five x reader #five x you #Spotify

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the-ravenist · 2 years

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Fic lineup

Fic title,

pairing/relationship type,

fic type, small summary, released order

That's my Wife

Darce!Steve Binder x Fem!Black!Reader

Slight crack, fluff, slight hurt/comfort

After the event of Kennedy being shot, Steve asks his wife, (Y/N), to help him. Not only is (Y/N) here to comfort herself and her husband, but to help Elvis make a rightful comeback. The group minus Steve is shocked at what she can do. order #2

UNTITLED

Benedict Bridgerton x Black!DG!Reader

crack, fluff, drama

Chronological order of events between (Y/N) and Benedict, where their relationship grows from strangers to possible lovers. Where Benedict love at first sight. (suggestive dialogue, sexual tension, reader is a boss ass butch) order #4

My Angel

Warren Worthington III x GN!Black!Reader

comfort, fluff, feel good, slight crack

Just a look into a much-needed comfort day between Warren and (Y/N), poor (Y/N) needs it after being overstimulated. Warren will always care for his partner, even if that means black-mailing people so that can make them mozzarella sticks. order #1

order completed!

Lookn' Sexy

Five Hargreeves x GN!Black!Reader

crack, slight angst, slight comfort

A reader insert for S3 ep3 instead this time reader isn't a Hargreeeves, extremely short, nonconfident, or that much a simp, not a basic Y/N. (no smut or extremely suggestive dialogue, five and reader are 17) order #3

#five x reader #five x black reader #black reader #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington x black reader #steve binder x reader #steve binder x black!reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #x reader #xmen x reader #tua x reader #elvis 2022 x reader #x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black writer #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader

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mrsmikaelsxn · 9 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Hello lovely humans! I want to thank everyone for their support. Every like, comment, reblog, and follow is so appreciated. I am very happy that you all enjoy my work, it gives me motivation to write more. So, thank you and I love you all!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ When requesting, for the prompts please mention who is which role. For example: Tutor/student, who is the tutor and who is the student. Another example: Grumpy/sunshine, who is grumpy and who’s the sunshine.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If you want a more specific oneshot/imagine please give some more context in the request so it's easier for me to give you what you want.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Feel free to have more than one prompt in the request, along with any dialogue you wish to see written. You can also come up with any prompts, those are just ideas.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I prefer to write fluff, sometimes smut, and I will write angst but i hope you guys choose fluff lmao.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ That's all! I hope to see your requests and I hope you have a beautiful day/night :)

---> link to my masterlist

#draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader #theodore nott x reader #tom riddle x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #cedric diggory x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #five hargreeves x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #damon salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader

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beestriker015 · 3 months

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Elesa x male s/o headcanons

Being a famous model as well as a gym leader, Elesa is no stranger to people vying for her affections.

Unfortunately for them, she is already in a relationship with someone whom she loves dearly, that being a handsome young man named s/o.

Elesa met s/o on a sunny afternoon in Nimbasa City when she had time off from the gym and her modeling career.

While wearing a disguise to avoid being bothered by her fans and the paparazzi, Elesa accidentally ran into s/o as he was leaving the Pokémon Center.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! Are you alright?!”

She asks the young man while offering him a hand after knocking him over.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just try being a bit more careful ok?”

He says with a small smile while accepting her hand to pull himself up.

“Thank you. My name’s s/o by the way.”

“Nice to meet you s/o, I’m….Elise.”

She greets him after quickly thinking up a fake name to use.

“Tell me, why were you in such a hurry Elise?”

Looking at the ground feeling slightly embarrassed, “Elise” chuckles awkwardly before answering.

“T-to be honest with you s/o, I was just really excited to ride on the Ferris Wheel. I haven’t done so in a long time because of how busy I’ve been lately.”

“You don’t say? Funnily enough, I was on my way there to ride it too! Now this may sound like a strange question, but would you perhaps like to ride it with me?”

Thinking for a moment, the incognito gym leader/model smiles and nods.

“Sure! After all I do owe you for running into you a minute ago s/o.”

“What are we waiting for then, let’s go!”

Gently taking her hand, s/o leads “Elise” to the Ferris Wheel before they get on it together.

Needless to say, the two had a really fun time and enjoyed each other’s company a lot as they talked about various things including their wins on the Battle Subway, favorite pokémon, and fashion tastes.

Once the ride was over, s/o gave “Elise” his number in case she ever wanted to hang out again, causing her to blush a little as they parted ways. “H-he gave me his number! W-why is my face heating up so much?!”

She asks herself before looking at the piece of paper with s/o’s number on it, a smile unknowingly making its way onto her face as she inputting the digits into her Xtransciever before heading back to her place.

Unsurprisingly, Elesa kept in contact with s/o and continued to spend time with him since then whenever they both had the time, leading to the two slowly catching feelings for one another.

Elesa was the first to realize her feelings, which presented a problem.

“How can I think of s/o that way! He’d never return my feelings because he thinks I’m someone else. We’ve grown pretty close over these couple months, so maybe it’s time I tell him the truth. I just hope he understands and somehow accepts my feelings.”

Sending s/o a message via her Xtransciever to meet up somewhere in private, s/o eventually arrives with a questioning look on his face.

“Why’d you want to meet me here Elise, is something going on?”

“I’m sorry s/o, but my name’s not Elise.”

Taking off her disguise (which consists of a hat, sunglasses, and designer scarf in case you were wondering), s/o is shocked to see the beautiful model/electric gym leader in front of him.

“Y-you’re Elesa! I don’t understand, why would you lie to me about who you were all this time?”

“S/o, a lot of people only like me for my looks or my careers rather than for who I am as a person, so I put on a disguise and used a different name to avoid being recognized. When I met you, I was scared that you would be like everyone else if you found out who I really was, but I know you well enough now to see that you aren’t like that. I was always planning on telling you, I just didn’t know how until now. Believe me s/o when I say that I truly enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together, so please….don’t hate me for lying to you.”

Getting over his initial shock, s/o wraps Elesa in a comforting hug, making her blush from the contact.

“I don’t hate you at all Elesa. I understand why you did what you did. Besides, I couldn’t possibly hate the woman I’ve….fallen in love with.”

Hearing those words causes Elesa to tear up as she breaks from the hug and looks at s/o with a smile.

“I love you too s/o!”

He returns her smile as both of them share a passionate kiss, thus beginning their relationship. As a couple, Elesa and s/o are very openly affectionate, neither of them shying away from kissing and cuddling in public. Dates consist of either spending time alone together while watching movies, or partaking in double battles as a couple on the Battle Subway.

Early on in their relationship, Elesa introduces her boyfriend to her closest friends, those being Emmet, Ingo, and Skyla, who thankfully get along with s/o quite well.

(S/o does his best to comfort his girlfriend when Ingo suddenly disappears one day without a trace, but she and his brother Emmet never stop mourning the missing Subway Boss.)

Despite not being a trainer himself, all of Elesa’s pokémon love s/o, especially her two Emolga who enjoy perching on his shoulders, which their trainer gushes over every time they do so.

“That’s so cute! I need to take a picture of this s/o! Don’t move!”

S/o is always extremely supportive of his girlfriend, whether she’s doing a gym battle or a photo shoot, which Elesa is very much grateful for.

“Thank you for being there for me today s/o, I appreciate it greatly.”

He smiles and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“No thanks necessary babe! I’ll support you in whatever you’re doing no matter what! What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

She smiles and kisses him back, happy to have such an amazing partner.

Jealousy in their relationship is uncommon, but definitely exists.

Elesa gets jealous whenever one of her gym trainers (or sometimes the occasional challenger) flirts with s/o or make comments about him, which he wastes no time reassuring her about.

“One of the girls was talking you up today s/o, I would’ve lost my cool if it weren’t for the gym battle I was having being so intense.”

She huffs in annoyance as s/o hugs her affectionately.

“Pay them no mind babe. You’re the only woman who has my heart Elesa, I love you and you alone.”

S/o gets jealous from all his girlfriend’s fans, which Elesa admittedly finds kinda cute.

“Must your male fans act like shameless simps! Some of the things they say just makes my blood boil Don’t they understand that you’re in a relationship?!”

Elesa giggles while calming down her angry boyfriend with a shoulder rub.

“Aww, no need to get upset dear. My love shines only for you. You’re the light of my life, and nothing or no one will change that.”

Speaking of her fans, Elesa will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of her boyfriend.

“I don’t appreciate what you just said about my s/o. Who I date is my choice, not yours! Now either apologize to my boyfriend and keep your opinion to yourself or leave!”

It always makes s/o’s heart flutter when Elesa gets protective of him, and he’ll do the same if any of her fans get out of line.

“Hey! I saw where your hand was going pal! Try touching her like that again and I’ll break every bone in your body!”

Only on special occasions such as birthdays and anniversaries will s/o and Elesa ride the Ferries Wheel, as it holds special meaning to them both because it’s where they first met.

For their second anniversary, s/o proposes to Elesa while they ride the Ferris Wheel, earning a very emotional response from her.

“This is the most romantic thing ever! Yes! Of course I’ll marry you s/o!

She exclaims gleefully with happy tears in her eyes before pulling her boyfriend turned fiancé into a warm embrace and kissing him repeatedly.

When it comes time for them to get off, the engagement ring on Elesa’s finger shimmers in the moonlight as she walks home with her beloved s/o, the love she has for him shining brighter than a thousand suns.

#pokemon #pokemon x reader #pokemon black and white #unova #unova region #pokemon gen five #pokemon elesa #gym leader elesa #male reader #pokemon x male reader #elesa pkmn #elesa x reader #elesa x male reader

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thebestofoneshots · 2 months

Note

THE LAST FIVE SENSES WITH REGGIE OH MY GOD I wasn't expecting that but it's such a happy surprise I'm so excited ahhhhhhh

Summary: The Five Senses is an anthology series, each chapter will be a stand-alone, independent fic, where passion intertwines with the symphony of our senses, beckoning you into a land of infinite possibilities derived from the way we perceive the world around us.

Yesss! It's gonna be Reggie!

I love Reggie, but I wanted to get a better hand of him as a character before writing my first solo fic for him (even more bc it's smutty). It's still a long way coming, but I have a couple of other surprises on the work for you guys, some featuring Wolfstar with artist!Sirius and others with vampire!Sirius.

By the way, the vampire!Sirius one is already in the works (I've got two chapters ready) but I'm not sure if you guys would like me to upload those and then take a little longer to upload the next few, or if you'd prefer me to finish the fic (I'm thinking five to six chapters total), and then start uploading it so it's weekly released...

What do you think?

Read the Five Senses Here

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exodusin · 1 year

Note

"Hi good night or good morning I was just asking if you can do a teen Michael afton with a Jamaican s/o"

( yes am Jamaican and i hope your alright and well :)

TEEN MICHAEL AFTON WITH A JAMAICAN S/O☆

pairing ˖ ݁ ˓ teen michael afton x jamaican!reader drabble + headcanons (both Michael and reader are 18 seniors)

note ⋮sorry if this took long :,) please let me know if any of the following seems disrespectful since I’m not Jamaican, if there is let me know and I’ll fix or take it down, enjoy :D also no bite of 83 here just pure love and Michael just being an idiotic flirtatious teen in love ♡

contains ⋮ fluff, michael is a douchebag but he’s a total flirtatious dorky sweetheart, michael has a mullet, 80s love, pet names, a little tiny bit of spice nothing much

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

It all started in early 1984, you were a new student in Hurricane, Utah. A simple girl with a pretty face, minding your own business, doing what you need to do, not a goody two shoes, just a student wanting to get your senior year over with, not expecting excitement until from a certain popular boy changes it all.

Michael tried so hard to not focus since he didn’t want to attach with someone who is new and wants to make them feel like any other nerd.

But he couldn’t because why did you have to be so damn beautiful?

Always looking pretty, being chill, you weren’t to prudy or too rude, you were just a butterfly fluttering around finding sweet nectar.

The way your long locs swayed gracefully as you did P.E, how relaxed you look, being cheerful at times like the world wasn't watching, your warm smile, your dark skin that made him all giddy inside, just YOU. Maybe he’ll cut you some slack and not be asshole just like he did to the other new students.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t mess with you a bit because that’s what he is. A bully

He made his move the next day when you were putting your stuff away in your locker, you turned your head to meet a teen about 18 years old and gave you a smirk with those stupid blue eyes that somehow made your heart flutter, but then you realize it was Michael Afton, the troublesome boy, the bad boy, you looked at him a playful judgmental look at his sudden appearance beside your locker.

“You're the new girl, innit?” he asked, and not in a way to be friendly but to annoy you, you were unbothered since you can do the same, you closed your locker and held your books close you, “Yea? What are you here for? To shove inside my locker as you do to the other kids?” you teased, damn, your voice was attractive as hell, he could just melt in that spot he's standing, his tried to maintain tough in front of you but damn just you existing made him a giddy dork.

Although he didn’t expect you to respond, instead all his cockiness faded, well not all but more than half

“What? No no no, you got it wrong I just...hmph...I, oh shit, you just seem cool and I wanted to introduce myself since you don’t seem nerdy or geeky as the other new students…..” You slowly raised a brow and chuckled a bit, “There’s nothing more cute than seeing a punk get nervous over a girl, how sweet.”

You knew he liked- well had a crush on you- but Michael didn’t like the slow chemistry going on so he followed his instincts and confessed to you about his feelings, you weren’t going to lie, he was attractive and treated you like a queen more than he did with his friends, plus he was really to fun to hang out with and you were indeed catching feelings.

That night, you two were just cuddling in the back of car and he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his thumbs softly rubbing your cheek, he so wanted to kiss those plump lips of yours that seem to have pineapple lipgloss but you decided to tease him and kiss him on the cheek instead, payback for the bullying he does towards his little brother and the nerdy freshman.

“Drive me home, pretty boy. I’m tired, it was nice today, thank you.”

Poor boy didn’t get his kiss, karma tho.

Anywho- headcanons!

Sometimes when it’s night time in Friday nights Michael would visit you outside your balcony, just seeing you dance to a childhood reggae song or any other music that you like.

“Nice moves, babydoll.”

Yup, babydoll is the special nickname he has for you.

He came back that night just to get his kiss, you found it silly but still, you couldn't resist it, you so wanted to kiss him back, and damn it sent him to the moon.

The kiss was romantic, slow, and passionate and when I say after that kiss, Michael will buy you loads of lipgloss for those perfectly shaped lips of yours, you just look so darn beautiful in them, he wants to claim you in every shape, way, or form.

He wants to learn how to do your hair and doesn't want to mess it up, if you ever ran out of the shampoo that is needed for your texture he will buy it in a second, need new bonnets? He will buy the finest ones on earth.

If he messes up the slightest on styling your hair he’d cursed himself while you just laugh at him and just teach him the basics.

He LOVES laying between your pillowy thighs, the way the lamp reflects your dark skin is like an image the gods sent him. Double pointers if you play with fluffy mullet while he rests his head between your thighs giving them butterfly kisses.

If you were to sleep over at his house he would lend you an oversize band shirt, he definitely didn't hide your pajamas just so he could get away with seeing you with his shirts.

Anywho

The days you doll yourself up, with cute clothes that fit your curves perfectly, your hair either styled in long locs, braids with beads, or an afro with flower decorations, Michael will do everything in his power to hold you by the waist, a sign to show others your his.

He gets more possessive when the tormentors from his friend group flirt with you, like for instance, Jeremy Fitzgerald (freddy mask) once said-

“You and I will get married one day ;)”

Michael: MARRY MY FIST—

Sorry this silly punk British boy loves you so much, he can’t help it.

But you return your love and reassure his by kissing him all over his face with your plump lips, his grin turns idioticly boyish.

He’d love your parents and how they embrace their culture, your dad having records of popular 60s-70s reggae artists in the living room like Bob Marley and The Wailers, Toots & The Maytals, Horace Andy, etc.

Your mother gave you the idea to invite Michael over for dinner to meet him, and Michael was more than happy because the food tasted like he's got a piece of what heaven is like, the dinner was a Jamaican dish called Fish Escovitch along with fried plantains as a side snack.

William didn't know how to cook for shit, and the poor boy had to eat it because as much as he'd rather starve he knew he couldn't.

But with this food your mother served, he was finally satisfied but had to maintain proper, despite him being a dirtbag that has no shame slamming geeks into the lockers and mercilessly beating them up.

When school was finally over for the summer, you invited him to Jamaica for two weeks of the summer, a town called Falmouth.

And you in your emerald bikini and beach skirt that fitted your dark skin is so beautiful, he always asked himself how he got so lucky to have someone like you, a piece of the heavens sent for him ignoring his aggressive persona of a bully, because, despite all that, the heavens new Michael Afton would treat you like a queen.

It was like you were made of stars instead of atoms.

In the lagoon, at night, Michael would place a Hibiscus flower behind your ear, place you on his lap and kiss your face and run gently his pale fingers onto your wet locs and whisper-

“I love you F/N, only you, and forever be, even in the afterlives, there will be no existence where me and you aren’t together.”

#fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf 4 #five nights at freddy's #michael afton x reader #fanfic #michael afton #teen michael afton #teen michael afton x reader #michael afton x black reader #Michael afton x Jamaican reader #headcanons #drabbles #micheal afton x reader

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madebyrolo · 3 months

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「 ✮⋆˙ madebyrolo masterlist ✮⋆˙」

☕︎ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴

Ignoring prank - she/her

Sleepy -they/them

I love you- she/her

Forever - she/he

⋆｡⋆｡° 𓆉*ੈ‧₊˚ ༘⋆

𝘑𝘫 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬

𝘐 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯- 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘺 - 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 - 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳 (𝘱𝘵.1)

𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 - 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳 (𝘱𝘵.2)

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘎𝘪𝘳 -𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘣 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬

Place holder - she/her

𖦹*• ༄ 𖤓

𝘗𝘢𝘶𝘭 𝘓𝘢𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘦

If I’m a dog, you’re a bitch - she/her

𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘹𝘰𝘹𝘰 ᯓ★

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jokeringcutio · 2 days

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"Almost Kidnapped" - BLACK PHONE & FNAF CROSSOVER - READER INSERT (GRABBER X READER (and implied your boss William Afton having an eye on you) [ 2/?]

AN: Enjoy your Sunday 🥳 As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it. Might follow up on this [ This is a nice job ].

Summary: You have a narrow escape. ( 'You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, and Albert Shaw (aka the infamous kidnapper known as The Grabber) regularly performs as a magician at parties').

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black Phone | Rating: Mature? Warnings: Talk about arousal (but quite politely), Reader almost gets kidnapped. Older man/younger woman, Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Not betaread. [ Support x ]

"Five minutes, no more," Erica's voice cut through the cacophony of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place. “I’ll cover for you.”

Gratefully, you nodded, muscles uncoiling as you slipped out the back door, hoping your boss wouldn’t notice your short absence. But it had been such a hectic day. The pizza place was stuffy and crowded, with multiple parties held at once. And Freddy’s was short of staff, leaving you with Justin and Erica. Lucy was ill, Jax was abroad, and Mike and El were at a wedding. Thank goodness you had Erica by your side or you wouldn’t survive the day at all.

Especially with the way your boss, Mr. Afton, kept looking in your direction with that stern gaze. As if he saw something that disturbed him. You had checked your uniform several times, made sure there was nothing stuck between your teeth, and all of that. Whatever made him look at you that way, it was unnerving you and you needed a breather.

The second you stepped outside and the hot summer air brushed past your cheeks, you realized you were not alone. A black van was parked in the parking lot in front of you. Its owner was busy loading the van. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Today’s performer hadn’t left the premises yet, it seemed.

Not many people came around the back; only staff or suppliers. Well, both staff and supplier then, you thought amused.

You curiously watched as Albert Shaw tried to stack cardboard boxes inside the van. He was still dressed in his magician’s clothes. Black flared pants clung to his legs, a top hat perched atop a head with a face painted ghostly white. Red peeked from beneath his black shirt, a silent scream against the somber attire.

He looked pretty hot… for an old man.

Okay, you had to shake that thought away. You knew you and Mr. Shaw had some kind of flirty thing going on – although granted, it could just be mostly in your head. Something along the lines of wishful thinking and so on… But having such thoughts about him would only make things awkward. You needed to clear your mind before you approached him. Will those dirty thoughts away.

Which was pretty hard as you watched him bent forward and caught a good glimpse of the tight fabric stretching around his thighs and... You quickly glanced away and swallowed. Hard.

This was ridiculous. You were already incredibly itching down below, but who could blame you? You’d been focusing on little details like this the entire afternoon. You’d last seen him only half an hour ago or so, when he was giving his last show. He’d been performing all afternoon. The way he captivated the room and made children smile had something magical. Perhaps it was only fitting that he performed as a magician. But still… There was something about this man.

You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Your gaze traveled to see how he lifted one of the boxes. His unclad forearms tensed, his muscles and veins showed, and you bit your lip. Yep, definitely appealing. The man looked like he was a lot stronger than anyone would give him credit for. You wondered if he worked out.

But what was he stacking in there? You knew he had been the entertainer this afternoon, but Mr. Afton and Mr. Henry bought a lot of their party supplies from him too. Was he taking empty boxes back with him? They shouldn’t be heavy. So what was he doing?

You curiously peeked around the average-sized man, catching a glimpse of stacked boxes and brown paper bags now that the backdoors were open and the interior of the van was exposed. Then he shifted until he blocked your view.

Albert Shaw bent forward a little, clearly putting some of his magical equipment inside the van before he straightened his spine and turned around. When he saw you, he flashed you a smile.

“If I had known I had an audience I would have put on a better show,” he greeted you in that low and gravelly voice of his. Did he smoke, you wondered? You’d never seen him do it. But how else could he sound this animalistic, this raw?

The white makeup cracked as his smile broadened. Sunglasses hid his grey eyes, leaving you to guess the expression that lay within them. Your pulse quickened.

“I’m just here to catch some fresh air,” you truthfully replied. And did you just stammer? You didn’t, right?

“Getting a little heated, sweetheart?” he murmured, and by the gods… that did things to you. It was almost as if he knew how he affected you.

“Trying to escape the chaos for a moment,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, eyes tracing the contours of his frame, the sinewy strength of his arms. "Your performance earlier today was... mesmerizing."

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. "I try to please my… audience," the way he said that last word sounded sinful, as if he implied something erotic.

You bit your lip. "Well, you're very good at what you do," you said, stepping closer, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes.

"Need a hand unloading?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, an offer to linger in his presence, to be closer to him. Something about him was attracting you like a magnet.

"Already done," Shaw said, gesturing towards the back of his van. The doors stood open like dark wings, and you peered inside, drawn by curiosity. You saw the boxes he’d placed inside, the brown paper bags. The sight of several black helium balloons bobbing against the roof of the van caught your attention.

"Black ballons?" You asked curiously, a smile playing on your lips. He usually supplied colorful ones to Afton and Henry.

"Part of the act," Shaw replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smiled at him before looking inside once more, admiring the balloons when something metallic clattered to the ground from his grasp.

"Oops," he muttered, a clumsy interlude to his usual grace.

Instinctively, you bent to retrieve it, your fingers brushing the cool metal. It was a silver bracelet, engraved with arcane symbols. His bracelet, you recognized with a start. He always seemed to wear it, just like the rings on his fingers – which you hadn’t studied to see if he was married or not… of course not.

You were weighing the bracelet in your hand when something tickled your senses; a prickling warning that made the hairs on your neck stand.

In a swift motion, you turned back to him, thrusting the bracelet at him with both hands and surprising yourself when you noticed this simple gesture seemed to increase the space between you. It made him take a step back. You hadn’t felt him coming.

“Oh, I forgot,” you started, exclaiming it a little too happily to cover your fear.

Albert Shaw stood momentarily frozen, a canister in his grip, aimed at you. You could see the way his jaw twitched, as if you had caught him during something sinister. Your heart thudded against your ribs, each beat screaming for you to flee, to scream. But no. Surely, you must be mistaken. You’d play this the clever way, distract him, puzzle him. Surely you were misinterpreting things. He was just loading his van. The canister must have fallen out or something.

“Your card,” you said, scrambling your brain for words. You searched for his gaze behind the glasses, your breath steady, betraying none of the terror that surged through your veins. He was close enough that you could see the faintest quiver in his hands and smell the sharp tang of chemicals coming from the canister.

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Shaw," you said. You tilted your head, feigning innocence.

Albert Shaw's composure cracked, the corners of his lips started to tremble as he tried to maintain a small smile. The canister disappeared behind him, his arm hooked as he hid the item behind his back as casually as he could muster. But you had seen it, and you had felt the danger. The fact that he hid the item now only raised your suspicion even more. What had he wanted to do with that thing? Drug you?

"I seem to have lost your business card and I was wondering…” you bit your lip, faking shyness. You wanted to take a step back but didn’t dare to move. The air between you was thick with tension, as if one wrong move could mean the end – of what, you didn’t know. Surely you were just paranoid. Surely, the man hired to perform at kids parties wouldn’t try and hurt you.

But still… it felt off.

Putting your hands behind your back, you looked at him through your lashes as you murmured gently if he could perhaps give you another card. Yeah, that’s it. Fake ignorance. Flatter him. Flirt a little. What harm could it do?

It seemed to work as his breath hitched in his throat, his chest rising as his lips parted in a stuttered yet silent sigh. You thought you could see his nostrils flare as he tried to compose himself.

"Of course," he said, a low murmur that sounded bittersweet. He reached into his van, movements deliberate – but you still caught sight of how he placed the canister out of view, in a corner behind the door. Now you could no longer see it and attempt to read the label. You could only guess what it had been filled with.

He fumbled with his bracelet, putting it back on smoothly before he pulled out a card with his name and number on it. Then he offered it to you with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. Calloused fingertips brushed gently past yours as he pressed the card into your hands. A current of electricity snapping between you, dangerous and undeniable.

"Thanks, Mr. Shaw," you said, pocketing the card without looking, your eyes never leaving the abyss of his sunglasses. You deliberately mentioned his name, hoping it would disarm him and put any nefarious thoughts out of his head.

Well, depending on the nature of those nefarious thoughts.

He stood close to you. So close that you could feel the heat of his body, a wall of warmth as he leaned in close to point at the details on the card.

“In case you ever need me to liven up a party,” he murmured, voice dark and deep. His breath skimmed your ear as he murmured instructions on how to reach him, voice low and rough, like dragging stones across velvet. "Call anytime."

"Will do." You pocketed the lie along with the card, stepping back, distance a frail shield.

"I think more than five minutes have passed,” you said, hesitating. You tried to search his eyes through the glasses but they remained hidden from you. All you saw was Shaw’s crooked smile.

"I’m afraid it has,” he agreed, warmth bleeding through his tone, a contrast to the chill that had crawled into your bones when you’d been on your knees to retrieve his bracelet for him. A bracelet that seemed to be clasped quite securely around his forearm, you noticed. How had he lost it anyway?

"Got to head back," you said, stepping away and flashing a small smile to signal you were ending the conversation. Get out of here, your mind screamed. Don’t be silly, another voice inside your head whispered. Why would Mr. Shaw harm you? Everyone knew who he was. He was a well-known face around Freddy’s. “Break's over."

You turned to leave but then froze when you felt a hand upon the small of your back. He touched you. He actually touched you. A gentle but firm touch, and for a moment you thought you would die. That this was it. That he would drag you into his van and slam the door closed, taking you away from your job and the life you had once known.

But nothing like that happened. His touch was heavy but gentle. Not in a harmful way. Not in a way to pull you aside. It was a guiding touch, protective almost, leading you to the safety of the backdoor.

He walked with you. The sound of his footsteps on the gravel first and then on the pavement as you neared the threshold kept you distracted. Up this close, you could smell his heady scent, a mixture of cologne and sweat. You heard his breathing, low and ragged. You felt his touch searing through the fabric of your uniform.

His hand tightened against your spine, fingers pressing deep enough to claim. A silent message carved into your skin.

Your lips parted, astonished, confused.

Then he released you, as if surrendering something precious.

"Until next time.”

The words were a whispered promise, a low grumble heavy with implications and sentiment – but loud enough for you to hear.

“Bye, Mr. Shaw,” you said, hesitating. You didn’t want to give him a promise of meeting him again, although you were certain you would see him more often as he regularly performed here.

But what nonsense were you thinking?

You halted at the door, flashing him a final smile while you watched him take a step back into the sunlight and out of the shadow of the building. The paint on his face was a blinding white and you had to squint your eyes a little when you studied him.

He seemed harmless. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling you had when you picked up his bracelet and handed it back to him. The feeling that something really bad was going to happen.

You closed the door.

Had you averted danger? Or had your senses been wrong?

AN: Well? Have you averted danger? Let me know.

#albert shaw x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber x reader #albert shaw x you #black phone fanfiction #crossover drabble #crossover #five nights ar freddy's #William Afton is your hot but grumpy boss #Albert Shaw is the kidnapping magician who has an eye on you

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