#its actually very intentional bedhead

[tobyisave]

chatterbox

i am cringe and i am free

[factual-fantasy]

29 Asks! :DD Thank you! :}}📦

@holly-opal @tallchest13-blog

There was not a single thing I liked about the trailer. Not a single thing.

Not the visuals, not the hinted at Jumanji style story, not the casting, I hated all of it. The thing I hated the most was Jack Black being casted as Steve. 💀

I hated his voice for Bowser, I hate him playing as Steve. Sooooo much hatred and disappointment for this trailer 💀💀💀

AAAAA THANK YOU!! :))))))

I have made my own version of Tarr! :D They are not intended to be cute 💀

Soft? :0

I haven't heard of it <:0 google seems to suggest its a Roblox game..?

@spirited-splashes

AAAA IM GLAD TO HEAR IT!! :DDDD TEAM PLATONIC!!! :))))

@pokefan250

I'm pretty 50/50- I GOT THE 8 WINS IN FALL GUYS JUST HOURS BEFORE THE CHALLANGE ENDED SO THAT MADE ME HAPPYbut then my health came back to bite me and I had a very scary health day :x sooo.....

Other than Barnaby's mom living out on a big farm away from the neighborhood- I don't actually have many ideas! <:D

And I had no plans for the neighbors to have cars.. but now I'm thinking of giving Eddie a cute little mail car :))

Yeah I wouldn't use the word "miss"... miss makes me feel like home cares about Wally in a tender way and wants him to come back because it cares about him.. that's not quite the right vibe..

Home doesn't want Wally to leave, and it wants him to come back when he's gone.. but that's the only way I'd word it. Kind'a cold and with unknown intentions..

Also thank you so much!! :DDD

The timing if this is quite humorous. (I spent the last week making 10+ frog plushies)

@pewpewae

I imagine out of all the neighbors, Poppy and Barnaby would have the most knowledge on basic first aid and home remedies. Considering they both grew up way out in the sticks, you're bound to get hurt or sick and not have anyone nearby to help you. So they learned from their parents how to take care of themselves or others when they're unwell :))

If someone is injured or sick though, I can imagine that it might stress Poppy out to come running to her screaming- so people probably turn to Barnaby for those sorts of things <XD

I thought that Howdy gets up early and comes home late. So out of all the neighbors, Sally gets to spend the most time with him because he's almost always awake and out and about! :)

Howdy is also always on the move- doing things around the shop and working. Usually most neighbors cant follow him around from job to job fast enough- but Sally can! :)) She's been able to get to know him really well and they get along like two peas in a pod!

Howdy is witty and quick with his responses. He rarely stutters, so these two can just chatter away for hours and hours!

When it comes to worrying about him,, it is just the cold thing. But Howdy "not liking the cold" only scratches the surface of it. Howdy practically shuts down in the winter time, ALL the neighbors worry about him..

In the wintertime, Howdy is one lullaby away from collapsing on the floor and falling asleep 💀 the cold completely destroys his energy.. Also he's constantly hungry. He really slows down and starts running into things, forgetting things, sleeping in and being really hard to wake up.. <:/ and he gets sick pretty often in the winter so he's just not having a good time-

Huh, I've never seen anyone take that direction with Ingo! :0

@anewbieartist356

HELOOOO!! :}}}}}}}

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :)) IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE HIM! :}}}}}}

And yeah, his hair probably take a few hours to braid and I bet bedhead is his worst yet more common nightmare 💀

(Referencing this post)

WARHHRGG SOBBS LOUDLLYYY!!! 😭😭💞💞THANOYU SO MUCH!!! 🥹🥹🥹💞💞💞💞

@abaroo

I feel like unless Home deliberately interacted with Barnaby and wanted him to know its alive, he would never suspect Home to be a living entity. Barnaby assumes that Wally has bad anxiety and its amplified when he's alone.. thus inviting him over to his house just to get out of his own home for a bit, or spending the night at Wally's house..

Barnaby has stayed over at Wally's house a lot and Home watches him too.. but in the end Barnaby chalks up the weird feelings he gets to just the worry over Wally..

I've never played the game, but I love it :) the fandom can be a real pain sometimes..

Currently I'm only really drawing/thinking of the base Unovan pokédex, not the pokédex from black 2 and white 2. (There are some select exceptions to this)

Mostly because the second dex is HUGE. And because Pokémon white was the game I grew up playing- so that's the one I wanna pull the Pokémon from. Ngl though, I might not be able to resist incorporating Metagross from the second dex.. 👀👀

Also my violet team wont make any canon cameos, but I did draw a doodle of Grim and V as slimes! :}}

@holly-opal

AAAA THANK YOU!! :DDDD

Meow meow! :))

(Thank you! I wish the same for you! :} )

@minnesotamedic186 (Referencing this post)

AAAA THANKYIU!! :))) I have a couple ideas for them but I'm having a hard time writing them out 😔

@msdamneighty

AAA I LUB YOU TOO! :))))))

@neo-metalscottic

Hello! I've unfortunately not been doing well health wise.. this week has been a rough patch.. but I'm hangin in there as best I can! <:) The fam says hi! XDDD

As for your questions, the fam has been blessed with never being too cold or too hot. So they probably like the winter time because that's when I'm at my happiest :)) I've never given them snow- but I'm sure they'd love to play in it! And yes, Gerald absolutely desires to A-pose out on the garden XDDDD

I typically play as Pit or Metakight. As for the others, I wonder..

Maybe Bibi would play as Luigi, Cici as Bowser, Jangles as Peach and Gerald as Wario XD

Also thank you for the ask! :DD I look forward to your next one but no pressure! :)))))

@littlelightfish

Its very rare that anyone from the crew hides their illness.. If someone hid an illness that's a big no no because they can infect other members of the crew. Plus it's really easy to tell if they're sick-

Also thankfully, (aside from Octo that one time-) no one really hides injuries. If the wound is in an embarrassing spot and need help, they'll probably just get the crewmate they are most comfortable with to help them..

I think Tuna only has that gnarly hook hand, he doesn't have anything else to put on in its place 💀

I can imagine when he first got his prosthetic arm he probably hurt himself on it once or twice <:( eventually he got used to it though and didn't hurt himself anymore-

Who made his prosthetic arm.. hmm.. I kind'a imagined he put it together himself.. Hence why it looks impractical and dangerous 💀

I didn't have plans for him to miss anyone... perhaps his mother but she's gone.. at least he doesn't miss anyone from his old crew.

After a battle/conflict on the ship, the very first thing Tuna does is go looking for Ellie..🥺

I imagine rolls are Tunas favorite food because he's kind of a picky eater. So some beautifully made plain bread rolls are hard to beat! :))

I didn't intend for Red to have any siblings,, his family was mostly his rotten mom and dad. :(

I think Coco and Cuttlefish get along better than you might think! :)) They're both rather sassy and have a lot of the same opinions. Other than Tuna, there isn't anyone that Coco butts-heads with :))

Due to the varying body types, the crew typically doesn't steal each others clothes 😅 but I can see Red stealing Coco's coats and boots from time to time 🥺

I haven't thought much about Ellies family.. perhaps she lived with her cruddy uncle before running off with Octo and Seafoam? :0

Thankfully like you said- other than Octo, nobody's gotten hurt so badly they thought they'd lose them. <:)

I'm afraid I don't Understand that question about Red.. D:> But Blue Beauty's favorite food is probably krill! :0

And lastly, WAAHGRGGT THANOUU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKS SND INTEREST IN MY OCSSS!!!😭😭💞💞💞

@loud-kid2

While I have no plans to add E. Gadd to my AU, I have made my own version of King Boo! :))

Aww! I still need to work on Julies sisters, but I can see this being the direction I lean towards! :))

Wally would probably stay home and try to just recover.. but if Home his illness starts making his anxiety/paranoia way worse- I can see Barnaby staying over for a few nights to take care of him. Perhaps even bringing Wally to his house if he thinks it might help- :0

[itsgrimeytime]

Home is Where the Heart is (Part Ten) || Farmer!Rick Grimes (TWD) x Teacher!GN!reader AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9...

Taglist: @1tsk1tty

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Like Real People Do by Hozier and Begin Again by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your life was spinning out of control, you knew that. After a string of particularly shattering events, you decided it was time to start anew. With a little help from one of your Grandma's rentals, you found yourself in the small town of Alexandria. The last thing you expected was your neighbor, Rick Grimes.

TWs: kinda anti-Lori, a lil bit of crying, alluding to sex (nothing graphic), and mentioned child abandonment.

[[A/N: Fun fact, I based the multiplication tables on actual posters I had as a kid. And yes, I did have physical multiplication tables on my walls, I was a nerd. This one is quite the rollercoaster. Enjoy :))]

You woke up early that morning, dancing around your house trying to gather everything up. It was almost 2 weeks until school started, and you had honestly never been more panicked in your life.

Grabbing stacks of paper and a few colorful posters you saved from your job in the city, you pushed open the door and unloaded it into your car. It wasn't your first trip to the car that morning, and it was starting to get a little tedious (you would've been frustrated if you weren't so nervous).

Slipping them into the trunk, you took a big breath out of your lungs and readied yourself up for another load. There was a lot more than you'd thought there'd be to decorate a classroom-

"Mornin', darlin'," a voice called to you, and you immediately spun on your toes to meet the one and only Rick Grimes.

It had been a few days since you'd seen him. You started working over at his house, so you wouldn't be running yourself into the ground again. He kept you hydrated and fed, and if you got stressed, he'd kiss your temple or drag you away from the computer. It was a really nice change of pace. You'd been relatively less stressed because of it, except for, well, now.

Rick was leaning against the fence, sleeves rolled up past his elbows (a worn flannel that maybe he wore just for morning work, you noted), and forearms on full display. You could see dirt on his hands though, and you realized it was early enough he must have been working too. Grinning at you and blue eyes twinkling, a stray curl hanging over his face (you had the instinct to comb it back). He actually looked a little messy, imperfect even, who knew he could do that?

Making your way over to him, you chimed with a bright smile, "Hey, loverboy, funny seeing you here."

He laughed, eyes swimming all over your face as you stood in front of him, "'Could say the same for you, ya know."

You smiled, teasing, "You always watch me like that?"

He let out a low chuckle, eyes intently focused on you -you really were never going to get used to that, "Only sometimes."

Laughing, you gently combed the curl back in its place and while you were at it fixed the rest of the muss of his hair. It looked a little like a bedhead, so you spent a little longer fixing it. Rick just watched you do so, maybe a little fondly.

"'S gettin' a lil' long, ain't it?" he offered, and you looked at it for a moment -the bundle of curls almost reached the bottom of his neck.

"Rick, believe me when I say this," you moved your hand to his cheek -mock-serious, "-I will kill you if you cut your hair."

Rick let out a full-body laugh at that one, head tilting up to the sky. You smiled at the noise, heart lurching in your chest.

"Don't get me wrong," you clarified, hand still in place "-I've seen the pictures, and you are very handsome with short hair-"

He just smiled at you, eyes trickling all over your features. It made you want to fidget a little.

"-in fact, I think you'd be handsome with any hair, actually-"

Rick leaned forward and pecked your lips, effectively cutting off your reasoning. It was a simple kiss, just surface level, still made you smile though.

"Ya do know how to flatter a guy, you know 'at?" he hummed, fingers tapping along the wood. He kind of looked like he wanted to touch you, but, you know, dirt hands.

"I am just stating facts," you argued. It was unreal how he did not know how plain attractive he was. God, you could wake up every day stoked just because you were together.

He changed his footing, looking at you curiously, "What are ya doin' out 'ere anyway?"

Blue eyes drew to your trunk, where a substantial pile was growing -messy colors and books and stationery-

"'Looks like a lotta stuff," he commented, saying playfully (but there was something a little serious in his tone), "-Ya ain't leavin' me, are ya?"

"No," you laughed in disbelief, but you saw something in him relax, "-Remember that job I have? That you ignore?"

Rick rolled his eyes, "I don't ignore it."

"You do," you patted his cheek, "-you buy everything for me. But-"

He smiled at you, affectionately, turning to kiss your palm.

"-since school starts in a few weeks," you explained, "-I have to go set up my classroom. What is in my trunk is not my stuff, but instead, tragically, is cute little posters about multiplication tables."

"Cute?" he questioned, eyes looking at you so fondly you thought that you might melt in your place.

"They're jungle themed," you clarified, motioning with your hands, "-have little monkeys on the sides."

Rick smiled at you, something smoothing into his eyes, "'At does sound pretty cute."

Your eyes flicked between his, "I said that, didn't I?"

He laughed again, and you pulled him to your lips that time -a little longer than before, but not much more than the press of the lips. Although you were pretty sure Rick wanted it to be. You too, really.

"Alright, loverboy," you parted, dropping your hands from his face, "-you've distracted me enough, I have some work to do. The colorful letter cutouts will not stack themselves."

He looked at you a second, before asking, "Ya need an extra set of hands? Or maybe three?"

"Oh, you don't need to wake them up, Rick, I'll be fine-" you hummed, "-it'll only take a few hours."

"Carl's helpin' me outside, and Judith is pickin' flowers, think she might give 'em to ya actually, and-" he tilted his head -playfully, "-I gotta few hours."

You laughed, "Do you?"

"For ya?" he grinned, eyes skimming over yours -fond, "-Absolutely."

Rick ended up piling up his kids in his truck and following you to the school. What can you say? You were weak-willed when it came to Rick Grimes.

Now, you were roaming down the hallways, hands full of papers, muttering the instructions you got from an email to your classroom. Beside you, Rick held most of the stuff (not that you hadn't offered), Carl held one box, and with your free hand, you held Judith's -keeping her close. Rick's eyes had been following it the whole way, you probably would've said something, if you weren't so distracted.

"Rick!" a woman called, crouching down to the kids' level, "-and look, Carl and Judith too! Hey guys."

She was young, wearing a floral top and regular jeans. She had blonde curly hair and a deep sort of blue eyes. Her voice was warm and she seemed so welcoming it was actually unbelievable-

Now that you noticed it, she came out of the first hallway -the younger classes. You briefly wondered if she was a teacher too.

"Hey, Beth," Rick chimed happily, warm, "-just helpin' Y/N get 'eir room ready."

"Y/N," she smiled, big and bright, rising back to her feet, "-the Y/N?"

He chuckled, and you saw the tips of his ears go pink (a smile bloomed onto your lips again), but still, he confirmed, "Yeah if ya wanna say it like 'at, the Y/N."

The woman grinned, something twinkling in her eyes, before realizing she hadn't turned to you yet, "Oh, I'm sorry! I'm Beth, Beth Greene, I teach Kindergarten here."

Figures.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," you chimed, smiling, "-and even though you don't need it apparently," your eyes shot to Rick a second, "-I'm Y/N. I teach third grade, and am... currently trying to find my classroom."

"Oh," she spoke, eyes lighting up at the idea of helping, "-I can totally help you with that! Third is gonna be the second hallway, what's your classroom number?"

"203," you replied with ease -in all your nerves, you had memorized it.

"That's easy," she waved a hand dismissively, "-should be right at the front, odd rooms are on the left."

"Thank you," you smiled.

"I hope to see you around!"

You grinned wide and continued walking down the main hallway. Maybe I shouldn't be so nervous.

"Look at ya," Rick hummed, teasingly, "-already makin' friends."

You pursed your lips, warning, "Don't start, loverboy."

He laughed, as you turned down the second hallway -eyes darting between room numbers, a little frantically. Rick's eyes lingered on you a little longer, eyebrows furrowing a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him.

"There it is," you breathed out a sigh of relief -second door on the left.

Grabbing your key off your lanyard which had your photo ID too, you slid it into the lock and turned.

Taking in the room, you were nearly bouncing on your toes. Not that it was anything special, it was just a basic classroom with lines of desks, a big whiteboard, plain white brick walls, and a big desk in the corner. It was just... your very own classroom.

"Ya look happy," Rick chimed, coming up to your side as Judith and Carl ran into the room.

You instinctively called out, thinking of the hard tile flooring under your shoes, "Be careful, you two! Don't fall!"

The both of them slowed down considerably, and you let out a sigh of relief -placing the papers you had on one of the desks in front of you and turning to Rick.

He was smiling at you so fondly that you promptly forgot what you were saying -heart skittering in your chest, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Ya look happy," he repeated, blue eyes skimming over your face a little like he couldn't get enough of you.

"Oh, yeah, I am," you agreed, smile on your face, "-I've always had assistant jobs, this is... I finally have my own classroom. It's big for me, even if sounds a little stupid-"

Rick shook his head, putting the boxes onto the floor, and approached you -running his hands along your arms, "Ain't stupid, baby. Not at all."

You smiled at him but not quite the fullest, nerves still bubbling under your skin, "Thank you."

He furrowed his eyebrows, eyes smoothing over your smile, "'Ere's somethin' else. What's wrong?"

You bit at your lips a second, "I just... I really don't want to mess this up. I've only ever been an assistant-"

His hands moved up to cup your face, turning your eyes onto his -steady gaze, "You're gonna do great. Not a doubt in my mind."

You pursed your lips.

"I've seen ya wit' Carl and Judith," he continued, genuine and honestly, "-you're amazin', baby. You 'ave nothin' to worry 'bout."

"Yeah?"

"'Course," he assured, leaning forward and pecking your lips once, "-Now, what ya want me to do, boss?"

You laughed, and the four of you got to work. Well, Judith was sitting at a desk coloring with crayons but you'd still counted it (especially when she'd offered you the finished product after Carl signed it for her. You immediately stuck it on the pinboard behind your desk. Rick couldn't stop smiling at you).

You were, at the current moment, making nametags with Carl; you were writing their names and he was folding them into triangles -quite diligently, you added. Every once in a while he'd tell you about somebody if he knew them, 'Annie likes the color pink, and James likes dinosaurs, he let me play with his favorite once. It was so cool-'. Attentively listening, you carefully skimmed every name, making sure that their name was spelled right.

"Do you know what Mary's favorite princess is?" you asked, curiously.

Carl paused from folding, gathering an oddly serious face (you almost laughed), "'Think she told somebody it was Cinderella once."

Kind of basic, your mind chimed.

"Good choice," you hummed instead, and you could feel Rick's eyes heavy on the two of you -you chanced a look at him and sweetly smiled. He grinned, shaking his head, and busying himself with the posters.

And then, there was a rapt on the door.

You curiously looked to the door and spotted a man with dark hair and dark eyes. His eyes surfed along the room before landing on Rick, a grin seeping across his face.

"I heard we had a visitor," he spoke, echoing out into the room.

Rick spun to him, grinning wide and making strides to the door, "Glenn, 'ey! Ya heard from Maggie?"

The man, Glenn, smiled in a small sort of way, shaking his head -embarrassed. You peeked up at the two of them, curiosity peaked.

Carl whispered, low for your ear, "'At's Glenn, he teaches here."

You turned to him, digging deeper, "And whose Maggie?"

He darted to the group, seeing they were lost in conversation, and putting his hand in front of his mouth, whispering, "She sells flowers in town, he has a big crush on 'er."

"Really?" you whispered back, "-How do you know?"

"Dad said so," he responded, blue eyes locked onto yours, "-Glenn won't ask her to be his girlfriend though."

"No," you exaggerated, enraptured, "-does Maggie like him back?"

"Yeah," he answered, mindlessly folding, "-she looks at 'im how Dad looks at you. And Dad really likes you."

You smiled, something in your chest fluttering, laughing a little, "Does she?"

"Yeah," he hummed, adding dramatically, "-And she twirls her hair."

"Oh, wow," you responded, playfully, "-she must really like him then."

He nodded at you, as you continued writing away. Until a thought crossed your mind.

"Has your Dad ever tried to get Maggie to make a move?" you asked.

"Dunno," Carl answered, shrugging, "-Dad says everybody in Alexandria is waiting on it. I don't really care, though."

You laughed, and you felt Rick's eyes dart to you at the noise, "Well, at least, you have your priorities straight, Carl."

There was a pause.

"You should try it though," he added, a little quietly, not looking at you.

"Should I?"

"Yeah," he leaned into his hand, "-I think if two people like each other, they should be together. 'Specially if they really like each other. Like you and Dad."

"And you're-" you pursed your lips, "-you're okay with me and your Dad?"

"Yeah," Carl spoke, instantly, "-he smiles a lot with you. 'Didn't used to smile that much when we weren't around."

You frowned slightly but didn't say a word.

"'Cause Mom left," he commented, tone much lower than before. You just watched him quietly. You hadn't really thought too much about Lori, or, at the very least, Carl's perspective.

It might be a little like he lost a Mom.

You bit your lip, bouncing your pen for a moment, "Hey Carl?"

He turned to you, big blue eyes, and his fingers dancing along the table.

"It's okay to miss her sometimes," you decided, eyes settling along his face, "-even if... even if she left on purpose. You can still miss her."

"I can?" he asked so genuinely that it made your heart ache in your chest.

"Yeah, of course," you hummed, giving him your full attention, "-we can still miss the people who hurt us. Especially if you love them."

"And," he started, voice maybe a little wobbly, "-And it's okay if it did hurt me?"

Something in your gut twisted. Oh, Carl.

You took a breath in, hand coming to smooth down his arm, "Yeah, sometimes-" your hand smoothed along his head, "-sometimes people do things that hurt us, and it-" you bit your lip, remembering things yourself, "-it hurts for a long time. And you know what? That's okay."

Carl just looked at you.

"It's okay to feel hurt by someone," you added, not moving your eyes from his, "-even when you love them."

Carl looked at you for a second, processing the words. You attentively kept his gaze, patient.

Before you could blink, he scraped back his chair and threw himself into your arms. Tiny little arms and hands hugging you.

You smiled, a little bittersweetly (maybe with a dusting of tears in your eyes), hand coming up to carefully hold the back of his head. Wordlessly, you smoothed your palm against it -repetitively.

Looking up to match Rick's concerned eyes, you motioned dismissively with your free hand, mouthing 'Later'. He seemed to shoot between your eyes and the back of Carl's head, rolling his lip in between his teeth.

'It's okay', you mouthed, trying to reassure him, '-he's okay.'

Something in him softened, and he took a deep breath, turning back to Glenn.

You did eventually meet Glenn, Rhee you learned; he taught fifth grade, towards the end of the third hall. Just like everyone else, he'd said Rick had practically introduced you already. It made you grin, just like it did every other time. He was nice, friendly even, offered to help you learn the ropes -which, you kind of desperately needed.

A little after that, with the help of Rick's height and Carl's remarkable focus (seriously, you wished you had that), you finished your classroom. Cubbies pushed against the wall, crayons in little drawers, papers properly filed in your desk, and walls covered in cute posters. You deserved a little break, so you took one.

Eating dinner with the Grimes, you stayed over. Leading you to now, as you sat -curled up on the couch watching whatever sitcom was on. It seemed familiar, but you couldn't really remember. Rick was putting Carl to bed, as he'd put Judith a few hours earlier, and you just sat in the coziness of his house.

It was crazy how nice it felt to be in here.

"Hey, baby," Rick hummed out, waltzing up to your side.

"Hey," you greeted with a sweet sort of smile.

Rick sat down just beside you, pulling you into his side (his body warmth bubbling along his skin, and a woodsy smell pulling through your nose). In response, you went to lean your head onto his shoulder -naturally.

"Just one thin'," he hummed, and you stopped in your tracks as he guided your chin up. And with fond, twinkly eyes, he kissed you.

It was languid, beard scratching at your face, and fingertips gently on your skin. Your hand naturally pushed through his hair, brushing through the curls with your fingers. Rick let out a low hum in response that made your stomach twist in a sort of pleasant way, so you kept doing it. Lips melding together with each breath you took, you had the spare thought that he kissed you a little carefully -gently. It made sparks shoot to your toes that he cared so much. Wanted to make you feel special and cared for.

You parted then, eyes fluttering open with a breath, a little flustered. Rick laughed a little at your reaction, fingers brushing along the hinge of your jaw -the careful touch of his callouses.

"Ya are so cute," he hummed, low as a whisper, "-always so flustered by me. 'S cute."

"In my defense," you responded, "-you are probably the hottest person like... maybe ever."

He quirked an eyebrow, a playful smirk smoothing across his lips, "Hottest, huh?"

You paused, "Uh, yeah. I call you handsome all the time-"

"Handsome and hot are two different thin's darlin'," he interrupted, curling his hand behind your ear, "-'s 'bout the intention."

"Well, then-" you continued a little uncertain, "-yeah. You look like you deserve to be carved out of marble-"

His eyes just laid heavily on you, but you could see the tips of his ears turn pink.

"-and at the same time, I would like to watch you chop wood shirtless sometimes," you finished, a little quieter.

He laughed just a little, before confessing, "Sometimes, I do chop wood, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he explained, voice low and gruff, "-in the winter, in case the power goes out. Keep some firewood for the fireplace. Don't think bein' shirtless would be a good idea in 'at weather."

You hummed, distracted by the way his fingers were brushing against your skin. It was so fond it made your head spin.

"'Could be shirtless for other reasons though," he added, tone coated in something different.

You let out a breath, eyes flicking between his, mindlessly poking his chest -accusingly, "Now that's not fair, Grimes. Jokes like that-"

"Who said I was jokin'?"

Your breath hollowed out in your chest, your heart pounding a little too fast. You swallowed, eyes holding his heavy look that you had never really seen before, but you knew very much what it meant.

Heart leaping into your chest, you spoke, "Yeah?"

"Kids are asleep," he offered, eyes set on your face -dipping to your lips, "-if ya want to, I want to."

"Jesus Christ," you muttered.

He laughed a little at that, eyes fond for a second. But continued strumming along your skin, careful touch now definitely making your head spin.

You breathed out, "I would like that. Yeah, who wouldn't?"

Laughing again, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours -surface level, but something new biting there. A promise for more.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands twisting into his hair. He hummed again, but this time a little differently.

Before you could blink, he was pulling you up to stand, and right before you could do that, he hitched his arms under your thighs -effectively carrying you.

You swallowed, god help me.

Rick grinned at you, something shining in his blue eyes, "'Figured I could show you somethin' else with my strength, yeah?"

You croaked out, just staring at him, "Yeah."

He laughed big and bright then, eyes smoothing to your lips, and decidedly saying, "'Said I was gonna take care of ya, didn't I?"

You blinked, swallowing. Well, maybe you didn't need god to help you.

You looked at Rick a second, before he started to move to the bedroom with a pretty quick pace -almost running. You laughed.

Maybe you were already blessed.

[theloveinc]

dabi x reader - where in which he tries to name a cat

(warning - mentions of dabi's past + abuse, so spoilers in that sense. g/n i think, but you're primping in this and called babe. this is NOT my dabi fic that i've been talking abt)

-

Dabi is your Wednesday to Saturday boyfriend.

The rest of the of the days, you’re not sure what he is. All you know is those are not the days he spends bumming around at your apartment, eating your leftovers, and using your Wi-Fi to stream a seemingly endless amount of TV that he doesn’t actually sit down to watch.

This most recent Wednesday, he brought you a cat. More of a kitten, really. White and black, rather plump for a terrified little street thing, probably barely five or six weeks old. They look a bit like each other, both both scruffy and dirty, and Dabi capitalized on the fact that you have a normal amount of compassion in your heart to present you with it like a gift and not another mouth to feed. Surprise!

(...Pulling it out of his jacket by the scruff of its neck, little feet scrunched into its own body as in mewed in terror. You found the sight quite ironic, knowing Dabi’s somewhat good intentions must’ve thoroughly been betrayed by the fact he was treating the kitten a bit like… meat.)

And today, now Friday, you wake up with it on your face. Dabi’s hand resting on your sternum, his hair floppy and tangled with bedhead, it's tucked between your chin and cheek, snuggled into a little ball that only rouses when you happen to get a few of its hair in your mouth and you rustle around trying to get them out.

Unfortunately, Dabi rouses too, snickering at the sight of you held down by two, stubborn creatures.

“Yes, Touya,” you mumble, trying not to get another hair down your throat. “The cat. Are you happy?

He wiggles a hand out from under the blankets and rubs one finger across the bridge of its spine. It chirps, but doesn’t stir and Dabi glances at you, his eyes still crinkled with sleep, and nods (his head barely tilting) without any of his usual hesitations. His lips curl with the smallest of smirks, and he begins to doze, just like that, sly grin still present as his fingers brush kitty’s soft fur.

-

“What are we gonna name it?”

Dabi asks that Saturday evening, barely fifteen minutes before one of your friends is supposed to pick you up for oysters and cocktails on the water. You’re in your bra, right in the middle of fixing your hair while he’s in a dirty shirt, underpants, and socks, sat next to the cat who is snoozing very comfortably on your unmade bed.

He has a habit of doing that, this, starting conversations right before you’re meant to go off and do something else. Maybe it’s because he’s too scared to find out where things would end naturally if he allowed them to play out, or maybe it’s because he enjoys making you be the villain (and how you always kiss him in apology for cutting things short).

Because it’s a Saturday, however, you won’t be seeing him when you get home, so this chat is somewhat crucial if you want to save yourself from a dramatic fit when he comes back to find out that you named the cat on your own. He watches your eyebrow raise in the mirror.

“We?” you say, glancing back at him in the silver. “Touya, who is ‘we?’”

His face immediately flattens as he shoots you a look. Actually doesn’t shoot anything, just stares at you straight, blankly, like he does when he wants something or knows you already know what it is he wants to say… which in this case is most likely, “you and I. But mostly I.”

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. His bullheadedness. The shine of blue eyes over wrinkles and under his surprisingly nice eyebrows.

“Not gonna happen,” you say before he can even try to beg (not that he really would, but he would, in his Dabi-ish way. Pouting and grunting and stubbornly waiting for you to submit to something that was always going to happen). “We’ll never agree on a name and you know it.”

There is no but from him.

“He’s gonna be living in my house, eating food I paid for—“ you remember how, on one of your walks home together, Dabi nudged you into the local pet store and racked up quite the hefty bill on a litter box, cat bed, and the most expensive cat food they had, all in rainbow colored tins with funny names that didn’t actually make you (or him) laugh.

Paw Lickin’ Good. Catsu Curry and Gravy. More Pur-lease, “—it would be kind of you to at least let me pick what we call him.”

Dabi doesn’t relent however, turning his bottom lip downward in a pout that makes him look about seven years younger, especially when he proceeds to look at the cat as if the two of them were brothers.

“I found him.”

He says it petulantly, like a child, and then it’s your turn to stare, hot tool suspended in midair, and let the silence stretch until, as always, he gets his way.

You turn back to the mirror.

“Fine,” you reply. “Humor me.”

He pipes up instantly, like the topic has been on his mind, like he already knows his answers, though now his focus isn’t on you but intently on the cat (kitten, you remind yourself) and how it’s woken up to lick it’s armpit slowly.

“Chicken Nugget.”

You can’t help but laugh.

“What? Are you twelve?” you look at him incredulously, hairspray can now in hand as he stands his ground (he told you once that’s how old he was when he started using his quirk alone, running off to the very same forest where he was later left behind before being left to die). “You wanna eat him or something?”

He frowns.

“Mittens.”

“You never had neighbors with a cat named Mittens before?”

(You know he said his father’s house was cut off from the neighbor’s once. This big expanse of a property that took up an entire block: traditional, Japanese architecture the size of a football field. He also told you how the very same man would beat his mom and younger brother until they both threw up.)

The cat chews on a paw. He glares.

“Nibbles.”

You stare, taking a minute to look at Dabi like the child he's revealing himself to be… and though you could compete forever, deny his ideas the entire day… your standoff is interrupted by a beep, your phone brightening with the words, “2 mins away! Be ready this time!!!”

“Shit, I gotta go,” you throw down your brush and run to put on the shirt lying across the top of the hamper in your closet.

“I can pick then, babe?” Dabi asks, ignoring the fact that you’re leaving him and he won’t see you for another four days (even though normally, he’d kick up a fuss about the fact you’re abandoning him instead of giving him a real goodbye. You like to think you’re past that point in your relationship).

“I already told you, I’ll think about it,” you shove your phone in your purse, shimmy to adjust your arms in the fabric of your shirt and lean in quickly to hold Dabi's shoulders and give him one small kiss on the cheek like it’s something he deserves. “See you on Wednesday?”

He nods, eyelids heavy as he sinks back into your mattress and the cat settles back to sleep right next to him.

And that’s how you leave them.

-

“Again, I am so sorry for the lack of notice, Mrs. Kabu," you say to the landlord, thinking of your friend’s aunt, the market owner down the street, even Dabi’s friend… To-Tenko, was it? Though maybe it was dogs he said he liked. “If it’s really not okay, as soon as I can find someone, I’ll find it a new—"

She waves a wrinkled hand through the air, the crinkling of her crows feet hushing you immediately. “No need, dear. My grandson loves cats.”

You set down her groceries just as she stops at her door, one floor above your own apartment.

“He’s has a white one named snowball,” she laughs. “He’s only ten.”

“How cute,” you smile nervously, hoping to god she doesn't end up changing her mind, and that if she does, Dabi will spare her his wrath.

“What did you decide to name yours, dear?”

You think about last Saturday night, this Wednesday now fast approaching.

“Well…” you hesitate, thinking of the little black and white kitten currently scratching up your couch. “I was sorta thinking about the name… Nibbles.”

[meowzfordayz]

what a time

Author’s Note: listened to What A Time by Julia Michaels feat. Niall Horan and immediately thought Oh yes this would be a great song to write angst and break my own heart to.

what a time

Kocho Shinobu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~3,600

CW: explicit language

Song Inspo: What A Time by Julia Michaels feat. Niall Horan

~faqs~

I feel a little nauseous and my hands are shaking

I guess that means you're close by

My throat is getting dry and my heart is racing

“[y/n].”

You stiffen

Fingers tensing

Around your cup of sake 

Why was he here?

You hate that he’d managed to sneak up on you

He was always so quiet

At least, until he started talking

His talking was

flashy bold mesmerizing

You open your mouth

Nothing

Phrases like

“How have you been?”

“You look like you’re doing well.”

“Please leave me alone.”

Stick to your throat

Cling to each other

Dangle down your esophagus

Like a rope of rusted dreams

Each one heavier than the next

Pulling, pulling, pulling

At the confession struggling hardest to

Escape

“How have you been?”

Please stop talking

“You look like you’re doing well.”

If it was anyone else

You’d scoff at their lie I look like shit, actually

But it’s him

“I didn’t think you’d be so immature in a situation like this,” now he’s annoyed

Please stop talking

“Anyone’s allowed to go to a bar and have a drink,” he mutters, “It’s not like it’s your place.”

You swallow hard

It’s been months

Damn it

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry

He’s right

It’s not your place

It was your place

His and yours

Yours and his

Honestly, it’s a miracle you hadn’t run into him sooner

The memories

Spilled into its shiny, wooden bar top

Gnaw, keen, dig

At you, every time you

Stop by

On occasion after missions

Lately, after every mission

It’s a good thing you aren’t sent on many

This place is too strong for you

But the hollowness

Of letting it

Disintegrate from your heart

Stings most

Of watching his smile

Turn to sepia, then to dust

Of Hina, Makio, and Suma

No longer inquiring about you

No longer missing you

Because you’ve become too intangible

To hold on to

Anymore

“Please,” you will your voice to stone, “Leave me alone.”

“Whatever.”

He backs away

Loudly

You wonder if he does it on purpose

So you’re forced to listen

To how little it all

Meant to him

I haven't been by your side

In a minute, but I think about it sometimes

Even though I know it's not so distant

Oh, no, I still wanna reminisce it

He never imagined he’d find himself

Wishing his bed was smaller

Searching for strands of your hair

On his pillow

But all he ever finds these days

Are his own dull

Brittle strands

Hair tends to lose its sheen

Once it’s departed from one’s scalp

Floating, forgotten, onto

Dirt trodden paths

Cleanly swept pavers

Freshly laundered sheets

Gosh he misses you

Misses how you’d squeal in delight

Whenever you’d find a stray strand of his

Admiring how its color

Glinted in the sunlight

Harboring a glow

A warmth

Just for you

“Make a wish!” you’d giggle

Before gently releasing it

—He stands on the porch

Of the Rengoku house

Staring at himself

In the reflection of his mug

Green tea

An expression of mild distaste ripples across its surface

“You’d be very disappointed,” he chuckles, “You never let my hair get this unkempt.”

Gosh he shouldn’t go there, should train his mind as determinedly as he trains his body

It’s

Difficult

—Every morning he wakes

Wishing you were propped on your elbow

Intently focused on his adorable bedhead

Waiting for his sleepiness

To melt enough for him to

Snuggle closer

Pressing endearing hello kisses to your cheeks

The fluffy strands framing his face

Brushing ticklishly against your skin

—Every afternoon he trains

Wishing you were there

To tie back his hair

He never had to retie

Your handiwork

Something he

Regretfully

Took for granted

—Every evening he sighs

Mind wandering

Because he can’t stop himself

From going there

Revisiting the moment

He’d turned you away

—You’d show up unannounced

At the Rengoku house

Because you’d known he’d returned from his recent mission

And you’d missed him

Missed his charismatic gaze

Missed picking his thoughts before you fell asleep — together

Missed washing, braiding, touching his hair

Something had snapped in his chest

When he’d recognized the sound of your footsteps

Your gorgeous smile

Popping into view

As you’d rounded the corner

Instead of welcoming you

With his usual, endearing exclamations

Instead of regaling you

With his arduous adventures

He’d boomed

On and on about

honor pride

You’d figured he was simply frazzled

Considering the demanding nature of his missions

And his resolute ideology regarding his role as a Hashira

But then

“You are a distraction, [y/n]-san. I am sorry to be so straightforward, but,” he’d almost hesitated, almost changed directions and played it off as a teasing remark

Almost

“I do not think we should see each other anymore.”

Gosh he was so wrong

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark

And we stayed up for hours

What a time, what a time, what a time

“That’s not how it happened, [y/n]!” you snarl

Gah how abysmal

Reduced to arguing with yourself

Because you’re too aloof

To confide in anyone else

“Maybe that’s why he drifted away,” [y/n]-in-your head muses

“Who’s side are you on?” you scowl

“I’m literally you, idiot.”

Thing is

Both you and you-in-your-head know that

You were the coward

—The first time was an accident

He hadn’t striked you as a night owl

Mildly shocked by his presence

At such a random hour, in such a random place

In hindsight

You’d hardly known him

He could’ve been anything

Gone anywhere

Met anybody

Caffeine had brought you to the park

Buzzed on too many mugs of

Matcha

An unassuming, delicious powder

“What brings you here?” you’d found yourself asking

He’d glanced at you

Moonlight illuminating his narrowed eyes

Deepening the red half of his haori

“I drank too much matcha. Not tired in the slightest.”

“That makes sense,” he’d finally uttered

“What makes sense?”

“Why you’re rambling.”

“I’m not rambling!” you’d protested

He’d raised an eyebrow, “Usually. You’re much quieter.”

You’d huffed, arms crossing, “You’re one to talk!”

He’d cracked at that, “Actually, I’m not. At least, not usually.”

You’d paused

Tomioka-san is… making a joke?

“Tomioka-san. Since you won’t tell me what brought you here, how about: which tree is your favorite?”

“Which tree?”

“Yeah, in this park. Do you have a favorite? Ooh, come on, come on! I’ll show you mine…”

—The second time you’d kicked your matcha habit

Drowsy and shivering as you’d

Weaved peacefully under

The frozen, twinkling sky

Between naked trees

“What brings you here?”

He’d appeared beside you

In a breath

Silently holding out his haori

“Oh- Tomioka-san…” you’d shaken your head sheepishly, “I couldn’t.”

That first time, you’d asked about his haori

“Why two in one instead of just one?”

He’d ignored you

Until the very end

When the matcha had worn off

And you’d looked ready to keel over

“My haori, [y/n]-san. It belonged to my older sister. And to my closest friend.”

Another breath, and he’d draped his haori over your shoulders

“You’re shivering,” he’d shrugged matter-of-factly

“Is this payment for listening to you ramble about shogi last time?” you’d meant to sound playful

But he’d noted your softness 

“Are you staying nearby?” he’d questioned as you’d yawned widely

“I don’t own any particular residence.”

This had surprised him

As a Hashira, surely you requested a high enough salary to-

“It’s of no concern, Tomioka-san. I don’t think I could handle maintaining property in between missions is all.”

He’d nodded, brain short circuiting

[y/n]-san thinks I’m concerned about them? I’m concerned? About, them? He was.

“You’re wearing my haori, because I want you to. And you’re welcome to rest with me, because I want you to.”

Even in your exhausted state, you’d coughed awkwardly, “Uh- Tomioka-san. Could you repeat that?”

He’d blushed crimson, “With me, as in, at my residence. Not, with, me.”

—The third time

Well

It eludes you

Has yet to happen

Won’t happen

You lean against your favorite tree

Chin tilting upward to bathe

In the grey, immobile sky

“Where is his stupid face?” you grumble

“Probably still hiding from your ruthless rejection,” [y/n]-in-your head retorts

Groan

—You’d woken

With the sun

Early, clumsy, groggy

Huh?

You’d unsheathed your sword

In a slick motion

As the unfamiliarity of the room

Registered

“[y/n]-san, I’d rather not spar in my guest room,” an amused voice had greeted you

You’d immediately relaxed

Blade pointed at the floor

“Tomioka-san! I- Uh. Um. I’m really not a morning person.”

He’d half smiled, “Would you like to meet me at the park tonight? On purpose?”

What part of really not a morning person did he miss?

“What are you implying?” you’d stared dumbly

He’d gestured at you

And you’d realized

I slept in his haori

You’d panicked

At the warmth

Pricking your fingertips 

Had scrambled to remove it

Tossing it carelessly

At his confused expression

“Thank you for your hospitality Tomioka-san. I should get going.”

Normally, he could’ve kept up with you

And your retreating figure

But you’d snagged him, undressed him, and fled from him

In what felt like

A single breath

“I would like to meet you at the park tonight. On purpose.”

You whisper to yourself

Too little

Too late

You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

What a time, what a time, what a time

For you and I

Her lab feels sterile

Without the mumbling of your slumber

Involuntarily gazing at

The tatami mat still

Rolled up in your corner

The corner

She corrects herself

Just a normal, empty, lonely little corner

Maybe she’ll put a plant there…

No, no- I, I couldn’t

—It’s been a while

Since she last got to tuck you in

Blankets under your feet

Under your chin

Loose hairs

Behind your ears

Carefully, tenderly

You slept heavily

And yet, she moved in delicate fear of disturbing you

Glancing over worriedly, endearingly if you stirred even slightly

The one time Aoi had knocked to

Remind her that, “Kocho-sama, you should go to-”

She’d been at the door in an instant, shushing

“[y/n]-chan is sleeping.”

Never mind that Aoi had been about to tell her

That Hashira needed to rest too

—How ironic

How silly, clueless, oblivious of her

To fall in love with those

Intimate, safe, enthralling

Evenings

She’d assumed you didn’t mind

Always so eager to unroll the tatami mat

Fetching you numerous layers

Of cottons, silks, wools

Although her guilty pleasure had been

Watching you toss and turn

Thinly clothed, glistening

During summer’s intense heat

Of course, she’d do her best to keep you cool

But something about the rivulets of sweat

That would dance along the nape of your neck

Mesmerized her

Until you’d moan feverishly

Unable to sink further into your dreams

Without her pressing a damp cloth to your forehead

Lightly fanning you as your breathing would

Gradually deepen, mellowing out to the

Cadence she treasured so dearly

“I’m so tired, Shinobu-san,” you’d murmured

She’d smiled excitedly, so at ease with your routine

“Shall I prepare your corner [y/n]-chan?”

Silence

They must be quite tired!

She’d chuckled to herself as she’d left

To get your blankets

Which she’d personally washed earlier, giddily picturing you settling into the lingering scent of her adoration and gratitude

Unperturbed by your lack of response

And then she’d returned

To the tatami mat still rolled up in your corner, and you

Standing where she’d left you

“[y/n]-chan?” her voice had lowered, anxiety sharpening, “Are you okay?”

You’d tell her if you weren’t feeling well, right?

You looked okay, but not all pains and illnesses were visible

“I miss you,” you’d choked out

She’d frowned, a bit confused, really, because, “But I’m here?”

You’d crumpled in front of her, to her dismay and astonishment

Not bothering to hide the

Long suppressed sobs as they’d burst through

“[y/n]-chan,” she’s terrified for you

Where is this coming from?

“No, you, are, NOT,” you’d screeched, “You’re here, but you aren’t here. You don’t sleep in my bed — I sleep on your floor. You don’t tell me about your day — you simply, go about it. Missions, I understand. But what about the time in between? The hours spent,” your arms flail wildly, “In your lab. Working, I understand. But what about me? What about us? You didn’t have to pursue me. I didn’t have to fall in love with you. But I did, because you said you wanted me, and I wanted you. I still want us. I get it now. Us comes after you, and I’m proud of you. Truly. Madly. Incredibly. But Shinobu-san, my love. There’s never enough time for the you, let alone for the us.”

Defenses

Had rushed to the tip of her tongue

And she’d offered

None of them

What use were they when they were one sided?

Of course you wouldn’t know that she curled beside you, every dawn, as day threatened to overcome night

Because she’d leave before you woke

Of course you wouldn’t know that she started a notebook of your hilarious sleep talking

Because she’d neglected to ever mention it to you

Of course you wouldn’t know that she had multiple lab technicians slowly but surely training to take on more of her tedious duties

Because she’d hoped to surprise you once everything was in motion

And of course she took care of you, as you took care of her

But what did it matter when most of her caring occurred as you slept?

Behind the closed doors of your eyelids

“I still want us,” she’d whispered

You’d stare at her

Devastated

“Me too, Shinobu-san, my love. Me too.”

She hadn’t stopped you

As you’d gathered yourself

And left

I know we didn't end it like we're supposed to

And now we get a bit tense

I wonder if my mind just leaves out all the bad parts

He stares at your back

All night, wondering

If you’ll ever turn around

Just to say hello

Be pleasant

Not hack at his heart further

Unlikely

He did call you immature

It was a slip of the tongue

A slip of the fist clenching at his gut

Provoked by his own

Shortcomings

Fuck he can’t even remember why

You’d abandoned him

Why you’d abandoned Hina, Makio, and Suma

He isn’t sure what’s sharper

The claws of his ego at his collarbones goading him to fight

Or the echo of his wives’ sniffles

Wondering what they’d done wrong

To hurt you so irredeemably

There isn’t enough sake, beer, anything

In this place

The place

Your place

Your place

To muddle the memory

Of you

Giggling beside him, fingers loosely intertwined, hands swinging together

“Brightest,” you’d glanced at him

“Loveliest?”

“I’m sooo tiiipssyyy,” you’d gasped cheerfully, suddenly hugging yourself to him

“Daaance with meee!”

He grunts

Blinking his way from the blurry, precious edges of you swaying, laughing, loving with him

To the familiar dankness of the bar

Shit

You’re gone

He rises in a flash

Mindlessly tosses ample change to pay for his drinks on the table

Hurries outside with the crazy, flamboyant, winning thought

Of wooing you over again

—You return to your seat at the bar

Sake always shrinks your bladder

“That man, you know him?” the bartender asks, not unkindly

“Which man?”

“The fancy looking one, got up and bolted like he had somewhere to be.”

You ignore the onslaught of dizziness, smiling lazily as you gesture for another round of sake

“Hah. I like to think I did.”

I know we didn't make sense

I admit it that I think about it sometimes

Even though I know it's not so distant

Oh, no, I still wanna reminisce it

You write letters to him

Trying to word your one question perfectly

What happened?

How did I upset you?

Is there something you aren’t telling me?

Were you just super stressed that day?

Should I come back?

Should I check on you?

None of them reach the Rengoku house

Because you never send them

They lie in a pile, gradually devouring the surface of your desk

Some are written neatly

From a little while after your dismissal

When you’d had time to process, to grieve, to feel lonely

Others are scrawled horribly

Ink spots from gripping too hard

Entire crossed out sections ranging from intimate admissions of missing his steadiness, his laughter on your mouth

To practically screaming in 2D, begging him to tell you how you’d fucked up

And how to fix what you’d broken

I thought you loved me? Eh, pathetic

I loved you? Eh, timid

You’re cruel I thought you loved me I loved you. Eh, bitter

I miss tying back your hair, those cute tendrils wrapping around my fingers. Your hair liked me, Kyojuro-san, and now I’m sure it misses me back.

You’re far from ready to reach out 

Far from ready to be brave

A nagging, deepening pain 

In the shadow of your heart

Warns you that distance moves along all matters

Fogs all softness

Erases all longing

But you’re still far from ready

Still far from okay

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark

And we stayed up for hours

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

He blames himself 

For startling you

His dearest dear

Deer in headlights

Taking it slow hadn’t crossed his mind

Enraptured by how easy being with you had felt

You’d responded openly, warmly, enthusiastically

He’d assumed the slight nuances in your body language

Whenever he’d show up

Had meant something

He blames the night air

People shift as the sun sets

—That first night

He’d arrived at the park before you

Meditating as the moon nudged the sun from the sky

Breathing in the rhythm of the trees

The scent of their rough bark

Lulled into a contented solitude

You’d punctured through his thoughtful exterior

What brings you here?

Gratitude for his years of training

Gratitude that he hadn’t jumped out of his skin

Had flooded his immediate feeling, just as something confusing and disastrous snuck its way in underneath

He’d known you to be quiet, unexcited, and unmemorable

Now, he knew you’d simply needed to feel heard before you’d be willing to really speak

He too, functions in this manner

—The feeling aroused by the sight of your almost indiscernible shivering

Had smacked him silly

Why do I care? They’re the idiot who didn’t dress properly for the temperature

Comforting, gentle ghost hands had compelled him

To offer you his haori

To offer you his security

His surrender

You’d seemed happy, albeit shocked, when he’d invited you to his residence

Hadn’t put up a fight of stubborn pride

So why had you fled the scene of his heart’s desire?

He’d mulled over his wording for hours

Was it the On purpose that had scared you?

Or the subtle at least he’d hoped it was subtle interest entangled in his stare?

My haori

His eyes squeeze tightly

I guess I should’ve taken it back sooner?

But you’d looked so

Peaceful

So weary yet so trusting

You’d grasped the significance of his haori

It had enveloped you so naturally, he’d almost blurted, “Keep it!”

—Taking it slow hadn’t crossed his mind

He’d entertained the notion of searching for you

But you’d made it clear that something

Perhaps, someone

Himself, his feeling

Had spooked you

And that scratches the surface

Of a pain, of a guilt

A loss, an inability

He isn’t willing to confront

You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

For you and I

You’re angry

So, so angry

Heartbroken

Tattered, shredded, chopped

She didn’t even try to stop me

You would’ve stayed

If she’d still wanted you

If she’d still wanted us

Then you would’ve given

The butterflies in your stomach

A second chance

You’re at your parents’ house

Your house

You forget

It’s yours now

You typically avoid

The sorrow lining the walls

The grief embedded in the floors

The flickering lights as familiar as they are rage inducing

How could you, Kocho Shinobu?

You whimper into the sleeve of your kimono

She knew what this house did to you

And still, she’d let you return here

You focus on the memory of her expression

As she’d asked you, “Shall I prepare your corner [y/n]-chan?”

So quick to put you away

Out of sight, out of mind

It didn’t help that you always had been exhausted

But you’d have stayed up

Rubbing her shoulders

Making her tea

Feeding her late night tidbits of seaweed and rice

Sneaking in playful kisses

If she’d wanted you

If she’d cared to listen to the stories from your day

If she’d cared to let you help her, because

You were familiar and proficient with her process

With her medicines

If she’d cared to let you love her

But you’d never be familiar enough

Never be proficient enough

With her

Sometimes you’d experience

A slight pressure against you as you slept

You’d cling to that pressure 

Imagining, wishing, clinging

That maybe, the pressure was Shinobu

But you’d always wake up

Alone

—You’re extra cautious

On your next couple, handful of missions

Afraid to end up

In the Butterfly Mansion

Under the watchful, professional gaze

Of Kocho Shinobu

—She prays you don’t end up in 

The Butterfly Mansion as well

Knows she wouldn’t be able

To hold back her selfishness

And drown you in how much she misses you

In how badly she wants another chance

Knows how that wouldn’t affect you

Knows you’d made your choice

Knows you’d stick to it

[sneezefiction]

of night owls & early birds

Kuroo x Reader

desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”

a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.

wc: 3.6k

--- You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.

And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.

You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all. 

After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.

Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.

One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.

There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.

You also may have been bribed.

To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.

But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.

You grimace.

It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.

Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.

Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut. 

It stings.

You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.

And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)

Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.

If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.

And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing. 

Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.

But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak. 

As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.

Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal. 

Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.

More soft steps fall just outside of your room.

Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.

You begin planning for your funeral. 

However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.

Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.

Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.

As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:

The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.

And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.

So you take a breath and steel yourself.

“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.

It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.

There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”

You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.

“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.

The door cracks open.

That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.

Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.

Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.

At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.

“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.

Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this. 

“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”

“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”

You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.

Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.

Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room. 

The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.

He makes himself comfortable.

This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.

Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.

In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.

But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.

“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”

“-Classes.” He finishes for you.

You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.

 “I get it.”

And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.

“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”

Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.

But at least Kuroo sounds resolute. 

He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.

And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.

But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.

“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.

He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?

It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.

But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.

“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.

There it is. Finally out in the open.

And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.

He’s been there.

Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.

It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.

But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.

“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”

You blink. 

Yeah, you suppose it is. 

Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.

Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.

Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.

“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”

“Okay...”

“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”

Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.

“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”

That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.

He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.

“You mean it?” You half-whisper.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.

One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.

Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.

He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.

“It’s your bed.” 

Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.

You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.

And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.

He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.

You break the silence.

“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.

You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.

“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.

“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.

You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.

He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.

“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.

“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”

He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”

“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.

He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.

“A small part.”

“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.

He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”

His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.

And you go quiet. 

You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.

And words are failing you.

It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.

Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.

At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.

Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.

So you throw caution to the wind.

“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”

His eyes snap to yours.

This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.

“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.

Your heart pounds.

“I really like you.” You clarify.

It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.

But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.

“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.

You no longer trust yourself with words. 

Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.

You lift your head.

His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.

He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.

You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.

“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.

Of course he did, wait what?

“But the thing is…”

Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”

You start planning your own funeral again. 

However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.

“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer. 

You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.

Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.

It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.

“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.

If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.

It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...

But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.

“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.

He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.

And that’s because you are.

So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?

Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.

Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.

And he’s in your face.

Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.

Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance. 

Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.

Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.

But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”

And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.” 

You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.

“You-” 

He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.

“-need to get some good rest.”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.

How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?

---

extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.

and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.

also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.

[haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts]

Heliotrope

Here’s my submission for the Forget Me Not collab for Anisylum! Please note the TW as it is VERY heavy. This piece is entirely SFW though!

Ship: Tsukishima Kei x GN! Reader Genre: Angst, but some fluff in some places. Word Count: 2.2k  Trigger/Content Warnings: near death experience, hospitalization, COVID-19, vomit mention, amnesia after hospitalization, a suicide attempt is briefly mentioned, swearing because this is by me Sexy Sexy Masterlist: here!

Sand clung to skin and the harsher rays of light that usually cascaded and burnt you had died away into a fading tangerine glow. You perched comfortably on the sand, taking note of the undulating waves- they were like you in the sense that while you could crash down hard on the opposition, you would shy away in a fragile manner when faced with gentle treatment. Perhaps it was that you felt you weren’t worth such luxuries that you found it hard to make friends through your first few years of high school. Perhaps it was trying to push people away because you were afraid yet alarmingly aware of your mortality. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something you weren’t quite ready to come to terms with. What you did know was that you weren’t alone in the violent struggle through high school to make friends while you had your walls up. Next to you was someone you never thought you’d share your favorite place with; in any terms you found this boy appalling with his behavior. So appalling, you saw yourself in the way he closed himself off and cut those close with tongue lashings. You knew this only through another friend who took issue with him as you went to another school in an entire other prefecture. Words mauled their way out from your throat, breaking the silence between you and Tsukishima Kei. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life.” You didn’t understand yourself. Why would you say that…? You don’t remember anything like this at all… His response was equally incoherent and odd. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.” When you opened your mouth to reply to him, the ground around you suddenly reared up like a defensive serpent. A pillar of beach sand forced its way from the ground into your throat, suffocating and trapping your lungs in permanent fullness. You could only gag and cry, unable to even see Tsukishima past the torrent of sand breaking into your body with the intent to kill you slowly…

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You woke up once more in that dull grey-blue and white room with the only sounds you could properly process being the beep of a heart monitor somewhere behind you. You had managed to halfway curl into somewhat resembling the fetal position, but something kept making you cough and gag as your throat was caught. You move your hand to whatever is catching and about to make you vomit- a tube. This tube, you followed, was in your nose good and solid, and you felt it deep enough in your sinuses you didn’t dare try to pull it out. Moving your hands felt foreign like you had forgotten how to process being human and natural motions like that. You testingly ran your right hand down the tube, taking care to not tug and cause discomfort. Your other hand came to rest on your face. It was slick from sweat, likely due to whatever the fuck you just had a dream about. At the corner of your lips was another tube and when you followed where it led it was taped to the side of your face. You lick your lips and manage to almost fall into a haze until you see movement for the first time in what feels like forever. To be fair, it is one of the most jarring appearances of a person you’ve seen in your whole life to what you can recall. A person in a full-body hazmat suit enters your room through a door you hadn’t even processed was there, then greets you as casually as they can through a plague-resistant suit. “Hey there.” You squint at them. Yeah, you have no fucking idea who this cosplayer in a hospital is, and while you should probably be polite, you feel like you got ran over not once but twice.  You try to speak to them, but you can’t. You don’t have the air for it, it’s like you have no control over your breathing. Clarity washes over you. You’re hospitalized. These are tubes because you were asleep and weren’t breathing or eating right. The realization must show on your face because your nurse speaks up again. “Don’t worry about me too much, we’re just gonna check your vitals and if you feel up to it, we can see how you do without the ventilators.” You try to manage out a “whoopee”, which unimpressively comes out as some form of odd wheeze, and your nurse begins by grabbing the blood pressure cuff covered in protective plastic while they wear a sympathetic expression.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Once you were off the ventilator, the nurse informed you about what had happened. Apparently, an ambulance was called when you were unresponsive and nearly blue in the face, sitting in front of your refrigerator with the door open. You were diagnosed with a severe case of COVID-19, something you had feared would wipe you out entirely and turn you past tense since its spread in your country. This fear wasn’t entirely irrational, either- you were immunocompromised and have been since you were a child. You grew up with being careful around others and hearing of a highly contagious new strain was something that filled you with so much paranoia you seriously considered quitting your current career and instead adopting a hermit lifestyle while completing college at home. Of course, such a thought was squashed by the slowly impending thought of rent, bills, due dates for assignments, and your bitch of a manager who lets people get close to you without a mask on. It’s not a big deal, (y/n), she once said to you. You wanted to shoehorn some tubes down her throat just to survive, see how that felt. It didn’t help that human resources wouldn’t listen to your complaint. They brushed it off since you were just a lowly sandwich maker at a chain sub place. If you had enough scraped together for lawyers right about now, they’d be totally fucked, you thought to yourself. Even more jarring is that it seemed you lost a handful of memories while in the hospital. You could remember basic outlines of people in your head- your very tall and incredibly testy roommate, your younger sister who wore glasses and was much smaller than you, and… a foggy memory of a man with messy black bedhead who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It hurt to think too hard. The doctor soon came by to give you test results, to check your vitals again, and to look over your records. He was a bit terse, but you can’t make the best judgments of people when they’re in plastic suits. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up by tomorrow and you should be able to head home,” he’d said, looking over your chart. You didn’t necessarily feel too ecstatic about your trip to your apartment. You remembered your roommate and how finicky he was, and you dreaded for him to belittle you over your condition. You dreaded it enough to even feel a knot of anxiety form in your stomach, wrenched in between your ribs without the intent of ever coming out. “We’ve already contacted uh…” The doctor squints at the screen, “Tsukishima… to come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll have care instructions printed out. You still have to quarantine for about a week more since your immune system isn’t at its most prime currently.” You agreed, it probably wasn’t a good recovery idea to make a couple of sammies for the public while you were recovering from a virus that had you intubated. He seemed grateful that you were lucid and cooperative, at least.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You, predictably, didn’t sleep well after being in a medically induced haze for several days. Even more predictably, you found yourself awake from anxieties of the future. Tomorrow was only a few hours away, and then you’d be home. Home… what did that look like for you? The fog in your head was thick initially. You do remember coming home from classes at a different time than Tsukishima, how when you entered he’d often be reading over homework. You remembered how sometimes he would be in the shower and the scent of cheap green apple soap filled the living room connected to it. You remembered… You remembered holding his thin frame in your arms on a bridge, pulling him back from oncoming traffic. You remember how you both collapsed and how the cold autumn air stung your lungs. You remember wide golden eyes staring back at you, as tears slowly filled them, then his normally impartial voice breaking as he hiccuped a sob, “Why? Why did you have to be in Sendai right now?” You felt tears stinging your eyes and a lump form in your throat. You found yourself in distress of your new emotions. Maybe… maybe you can sleep this horrible feeling off. Maybe this fog in your head where you need to know how deep your relationship ran will lift once you get genuine sleep.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Finally, a knock on the door encouraged you to rouse from your sleeping state. And eloquently, you spoke your true feelings in your sleep-deprived state,  “No.” You hear the doorknob turn and the door open. There’s a lack of a greeting from your nurse nor a quick apology from your doctor for interrupting your sleep. Actually, if you’re gonna use logic, what nurse or doctor is gonna wake up their peacefully sleeping patient in recovery? Thought of it being your doctor or nurse practically evaporates once the intruder has a seat on your bed. They still haven’t spoken, so now you’re remembering what tricks of self-defense you learned online to give this person a proper ass-kicking for getting way too close. You crack your hazy eyes open to get a look at where they’re sitting and you stop dead in your thoughts as wary gold eyes peer down at you. Your eyes widen out of reflex and butterflies bloom from your stomach at seeing what you now remember is your roommate. “I knew you were awake,” He said, a wry smile on his face. His expression was betrayed by his concerned gaze, though, “Wow, you look like shit.” You don’t know entirely why past his comment feeling not as an insult, but almost as a compliment, but you smile a little, “I feel like it too.” His expression doesn’t change. He runs a large calloused hand through the tresses of your hair, though, as if to soothe you. The doctor walked in and apologized for interrupting the moment between the two of you, unsure if it was something serious. You told him it was nothing because that’s what it was to you.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The car ride wasn’t filled with the snarky banter you had been expecting. Instead, there was plentiful comfortable silence as Tsukishima drove. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for the silence- you still felt quite feeble and needed way more bed rest before you could get ready to do anything for anyone. Despite the wholesome silence, you felt those round gold eyes focus on you occasionally. And even though it was comfortable, you felt a melancholy twinge in the atmosphere as he inspected you. “I know you’ll give me shit for this… but you look like you’ve lost weight. I uh…” He gripped the steering wheel harder. You glanced over at him. A shade of baby pink dusted itself across his cheekbones and nose as he focused on the road. “I’m worried about you.” Fuck, there go those butterflies again. Something in you pushed to help- to comfort- but the logical side of your brain brought you to a halt. You’d weighed it in your head a couple of times. You two act closer than just roommates, and it’s not entirely clear how or why you got up to this point… but you had a solid hunch you might be dating this guy. Maybe? You closed your eyes and rested your head on the car door as you thought. You remember how sand clung to your body and you could hear the roaring of the sea. How you watched Tsukishima focus on the waves to regulate his breathing. You vaguely remember your words breaking away from your throat and catching the salty sea air. “Why don’t we stay together?” His lanky body stiffened, then he looked at you with disbelief. “... you wouldn’t want that. I’m fucking annoying and mean.” Your eyes creased with familiarity at the line. “Yeah? So am I. We can butt heads until we balance each other out.” It looked like he wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn’t let him cry in front of you anymore today. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life,” you reached a careful hand over to rub his back, “Kei, if there isn’t, let me be that person.” You felt how his breath shuddered. To save his pride, you looked to the ocean and watched its hypnotic movements. After a few deep, shaky inhales and exhales, he replied. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. Why you didn’t let me die. I will probably come back to this point in my life several times and you’re trying to say you’ll put up with it?” There was some bite to his tone, he was trying so hard to put up walls when he had no will to do so at the moment. How long had he pushed others away from being close? If he was anything like you… it was since grade school. “Let me be your support for when you’re in pain,” You tried once more, “I’m stubborn as shit so I know I won’t give up on you.” “You’re not getting it, you fucking idiot. I’m always in pain, that’s just been life,” he snapped bitterly, glaring at you now.  “Then I guess I’ll be by your side forever.” You’d said it without thinking that day. It was like the ocean grew quieter with your words as if even Poseidon became interested in your proposition. You felt heat rise to your face at the implications of what you said. He stared at you with raised eyebrows and the slightest hint of a champagne pink hue on his face. He averted his eyes almost in a panic and watched the ocean again, suddenly very aware of his own expression. You carefully peered over at him again to see he’d only grown redder, now mirroring you. “You… don’t mean that,” He said as if it were a statement. “I do. You’re a good person inside, but you’re defensive and hurt. I’ve seen that from you in the past and I’ve learned more about you today. I want to be there for you as long as you’ll have me. Will you let me?”  He picked at the sand as if thinking it over for a moment. There was a brief pause as waves rolled over each other in front of both of you, the sound of their impact being the only thing to grace your ears. Finally, his cynical tone returned as he regained some form of his prior composure. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.”

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

“Hey. (Y/n), we’re home,” Tsukishima gently shook your shoulder to rouse you from your sleep. You opened your eyes slowly and groaned out a swear. Tsukishima felt a hesitant smile creep up his face as he opted to just try and maneuver you into your shared home himself. He remembered how waking up was hard for you. Once he opened the passenger door you nearly fell out onto the pavement, only saved by your seatbelt and the giant himself. Your face fell awkwardly into his hip, and you grumbled at the interruption to your sleep. “You sleep like the fucking dead, christ,” he mused out loud and sat you up so it was safe to unbuckle your seatbelt. He urged you to get up more- it wasn’t that you were heavy, he just really wasn’t in the place to lift you at the moment and didn’t even know how to go about it. Regardless, he held you up by a shoulder and crouched to make it easier for you both to walk to the apartment. In some part of your sleep, you began to speak, “Kei.” He kept his gaze trained forward at the front door and struggled to grab his keys from his pocket, “Yes?” “Are we married?” Kei dropped his keys, then shot you a look of concern, “... No…?” He had to hold himself back from saying not yet, unsure of what you were getting to. He reached down to grab his keys and he focused back on the door. “Why are you asking?” He unlocked the door and threw it open, getting you both inside finally. He set you on your couch and sat on the floor in front of you. You looked at him suspiciously, now roused from your sleep. The only thing on your mind was that dream- it had to be a memory! You refused to understand it as anything but that. You prodded, “On the beach, I told you I’d be by your side forever.” He seemed to weigh your thoughts heavily in his mind, “... did you forget about us?” You didn’t expect what felt like cold water to hit your back so hard and so suddenly at his suggestion. He didn’t seem hurt at the thought, instead, he found himself occupied with your reaction. His hand reached out to rub the side of your face as you looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Your sister told me this kind of thing might happen…” His calloused thumb traced over your lip, and he offered a smile the best he could, “I’ll try to explain it.” Tsukishima explained that what you remembered happened about four years ago and you had been living together ever since. He motioned to photos on the walls of the two of you and people who you could just hardly remember. When you rested your index finger on an individual who was much scrawnier than most of the people there, sitting on the bench with you and watching you speak with admiration, Tsukki put his hand over yours. “That’s your sister. She took most of these pictures, but she usually sits next to you when you have a space available.” You nodded and closed your eyes. You began to remember summers you spent with her in childhood and her yelling at you to do your homework when you bothered her as you got older. You smiled a bit. Once your eyes opened again, your finger traveled to possibly the tallest person in the room. He was big, but you remembered something warm and comfortable about that man… “That’s Kuroo. You both went to the same high school and you were in his friend group.” You both went on like that for a while until you’d cleared everyone in that picture. Once you did, you sat down to think over the new cluster of names you’d picked up. “... when you promised you’d be here with me forever, did you remember what I promised to you?” Kei asked as he sat next to you. “No… I just remember what happened on the beach up until you threatened to kill me if I took back my promise.” “Oh, right. I was going through that phase,” He seemed displeased with the comment. You found it almost funny but refrained from laughing for his sake. He continued, in a quieter tone, “I promised that if something happened to you, that I would always be here for you, too. That I’d get you back into shape.” His larger hand gently entwined with yours, “... so if you remember that promise and you’ll have me, I’d love to marry you once you get your memories back. … If you want to. I-” You cut him off with a hug to his side, trembling a bit as your emotions got the better of you. You smiled up at him. “I can’t promise I’ll be better fast, and I still feel like several trucks ran through me at once… but I’m happy,” you managed out. You didn’t know what your face looked like right about now and you didn’t have the nerve to look up into Kei’s glasses to check your reflection. He wrapped his arms around you in return, pressing the side of his face against your head. “Please, don’t give me an answer yet. You’re not in the right mental state. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.” You ran your hands up and down his back. You weren’t exactly afraid of remembering things, but you were quite anxious for what tomorrow might bring for both of you. Despite that, you felt safe recovering in his arms, and you were sure you’d feel that way for a long time.

Have a link to the sexy sexy masterlist down here as well. Unless you’re done reading, then have a good day. But if you’re not there’s some fire stuff in that bad boy.

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

the soulmate au i thought i wouldn’t write

aka the soulmate au where everyone is born with a book quote on their chest, and soulmates are people who share the starting and ending lines from the same book, and kuroo’s just unlucky

so basically,,,i took that devastating headcanon that kuroo’s parents are divorced and combined that with a faulty soulmate system and a quick little something on it while still promoting my neighbors to lovers bullshit-

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader

i.

It’s one night after Kuroo’s visit home that he lies restless in bed. Soulmates. He hates the very essence of the word, especially since his own possibilities are so unclear and vague. He thinks he’s cursed, just like his mother, for having such an unbelievably common line etched on his chest.

“It was love at first sight” was found in countless novels, novels that were never Kuroo’s cup of tea, but he read them, read as many as he could find out of curiosity. It wasn’t because he liked the idea of running into a special-someone after single meeting; in fact, he despises the very idea, as he finds it a little shallow and unsubstantial to a developed relationship after a culmination of encounters, but that was just him. Rather, it’s his frustration working against him, making him count every different quote, every different fragmented line that could’ve matched with the one forever stuck to him.

It’s far too much, and frankly, Kuroo hates feeling uncertain.

“You’ll love him,” his grandmother had told him upon welcoming him at her door. He almost froze in her warm embrace. “He matches exactly with you. It’ll be great!”

It wasn’t great as it turns out, but Kuroo had predicted that way before his supposed soulmate entered the door with his grandfather, and over a lackluster, silent meal, Kuroo left convinced that this man was absolutely not his soulmate. He even goes through the trouble of looking up the book that his lines came from, and he’d much rather not be associated with its contents after reading the quick summary. Out of courtesy and respect for his grandparents though, he does take the man’s number with the promise of speaking to him once again.

“Maybe it’ll take some time,” his grandmother reasoned, patting his shoulder gently. “It’s different for everyone.”

He wonders if she’s right but can’t imagine how much time it’d take. He likes his relationships, whether it be romantic or not, to start naturally, to grow with interaction and conversation until they flourished. There’s something manufactured to him about an arranged meeting with the intent of spending the rest of his life together with a stranger that he knows nothing about. A stranger that he simply isn’t interested in getting to know, not that it was the man’s fault. It’s Kuroo and his fear of ending up like his parents that keeps him alert and unwilling to pursue anything beyond just acquaintances before getting to know someone well.

“So? Are you planning on calling him back?” you sigh through the phone. It’s almost 5 AM, and you knew that when your phone buzzed at your bed side two hours ago, your best friend needed help. “

“Kitten, I lost that number the moment I walked out of the house,” Kuroo lies, stifling his yawn. He knows he should’ve been asleep, and he knows even better to let you sleep, but time passes far to quickly when he’s being serenaded by your speaking. “I just wish she’d stop setting me up with people. I swear it’s a new person every week.”

“It is,” you correct matter-of-factly. He can practically hear your eye-roll through your voice. “Have you talked to her about it? I’m sure she’d understand if you mentioned something.”

Kuroo groans. “I can’t do that to her. She’s been trying so hard, and to be honest, I’d feel a little bit bad since she’s been with me from even before I started playing volleyball.”

“Prior to conception?” you ask, raising a brow.

“Are you saying that I played volleyball in the womb, Y/N?” he asks, laughing. Finally.

“I’m just saying that you were a brat since birth.” He continues laughing softly much to your pleasure. “Now that you’re finally feeling better, can I go to sleep now?”

“It’s almost sunrise, though. Why not come take a run with me instead?” Kuroo offers. He knows you won’t, but he finds pleasure in teasing you over your lack of will to move. “I’ll even walk while you’re jogging to match your pace and give you a running start.”

“Very funny, Tetsu.” You swear that you’d hang up on him one day. A day that was better than whatever slump Kuroo found himself currently in. “You know I can’t run for my life.”

“It’s never to late to start practicing a healthy lifestyle,” Kuroo tsks. You retort back with something about sleeping properly, but he ignores it. “I’ll be out at 6. Would love to see you waiting for me.”

Kuroo knows that you won’t show up, and he doesn’t blame you. Not everyone could bring themselves to run right at dawn, especially people who slept very little thanks to him. He means it as a way to get back at you, to sound fine and normal again so that you won’t have to waste time worrying about him, and he believes that it works when you bid him a ‘good early night’ and go back to bed.

That is, until he sees your very grumpy and very disheveled appearance waiting for him outside on his sidewalk, tapping your foot impatiently on the pavement. He thinks he’s dreaming, taking no time to rub his eyes multiple times before he realizes that yes, you are indeed outside waiting to go on his morning run with him.

“After this, you owe me,” is all you say before getting your promised head-start. Kuroo walks steadily behind, making sure to take extra slow strides so that he won’t pass you.

The sun, just peeking through from the horizon outlines the back of your figure, shining on your hair and skin. Kuroo watches, gaze intent, and finds himself spacing out. He wonders how it’d feel to do this every morning, to wake up and spend more than just a run with you, but hugs in bed and breakfast too. Even if he hates cooking for himself, he thinks it’d be fun to do it with you. Would you be a morning person? He’s always kept you up at ridiculous hours on the phone, so when was morning for you? And how did you prefer your eggs to be cooked? Kuroo’s not a chef, but he prides himself in his healthy, balanced meals. If you ate with him everyday, he’s sure that he could-

Kuroo knows. He knows that he’s falling, been falling since forever, but he’s too scared to say anything to you. In a world with hundreds, maybe even thousands of books that started or ended with the same cliche line, “It was love at first sight,” he fears the idea of risking your happiness for his own sake. It seemed far too convenient for the two of you to be soulmates, and the thought of pursuing a relationship with you with the high risk of failure and keeping you away from finding your true fated one is a strong reminder for him to control himself.

He watches your fleeting figure in the distance and walks even slower.

ii.

“The knife came down, missing him by inches, and he took off.”

From the start, you had the sinking suspicion that Kuroo’s quote matched yours. Even without realizing that his was the exact first line to your last line, there was something that just felt so incredibly natural about Kuroo. The fact that he was always there to listen to you and vice versa ever since your middle school days is a strong affirmation that Kuroo is indeed much more than just a friend to you.

You think back to the late night talks via phone cup, the two of you still in your adolescence, as Kuroo would vent to you about the fights his parents were having. The two of you were too young to know back then that the fights were just the start of something far bigger. The conversations would grow longer into the night, each day seemingly to grow worse and worse. Sometimes, you’d find yourself falling asleep right at your desk in the classroom of your elementary school.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kuroo had whispered to you on one fateful night. You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to finish properly. “Uh, over.”

“What? Over,” you responded, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Today I learned how to make things quiet….over,” Kuroo answered, grinning from his window. You remember your confusion and raised brow as you watched him run away from the cup and back, suddenly with two pillows. “Check this out.”

You watched curiously as he stuffed the two pillows on the sides of his head, almost as if they were to serve as ear plugs. That was the beginning of the mess that was his hair, you suppose, as ever since that night, you’ve never seen him look put together again. Not even during important ceremonies like graduation did he bother fixing his bedhead. Rather, it was impossible to do so, and you knew from first hand experience, trying to tame the mess almost every day during high school. Secretly, you enjoyed raking your fingers through his hair and enjoyed the physical contact.

“Hey, are you even paying attention?” Kuroo whines, snapping you out of your thoughts. From beside you, he turns his head to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “It’s getting to the good part.”

You roll your eyes. “Tetsu, this is the fourth time you’re making me watch this crime documentary, but for what?”

“But the DNA-“

“Nerd.” If you think hard about it, you can pinpoint the exact moment when Kuroo changed drastically. He wasn’t always as charismatic and as hardworking in his childhood, but you know for sure that it’s because of volleyball that he flourishes. He’s not an idiot, he never was, and you recall one fateful day in middle school when you visit him in his house to find him actually studying instead of playing games.

“I have to keep my grades up or else I’ll get kicked from the club,” he had said simply, but when you caught him tutoring his other teammates during his lunch break, you understood that it was a completely different story. Before you knew it something had triggered Kuroo into maturing quickly, working tirelessly at becoming all-rounded in his studies and sports. Whether that something was volleyball or the little bit of hope that Kenma gave him every time he showed up to practice, you weren’t sure, but you knew in your heart that Kuroo’s sudden improvement and change in attitude was what made him the captain of Nekoma later on in high school.

High school was a little lonely, you have to admit. Between exams and nationals, you felt that day by day, Kuroo slipped away from you. You watched his games whenever you had time, visited him at practices, and even studied with him whenever he offered, but he felt so distant. You didn’t blame him, though. You’re more than pleased to find him so involved in something, and whenever you heard his hyena-cackle from the gym, you thought about the quiet boy who once hid inside his room all day to avoid his parents. It was for the best.

You were always worried if he got tired of practicing until sunset and studying until sunrise while also keeping his team from falling apart, but even when you sat in his room during the weekends, waiting for him to wake up, he seemed content. Exhausted, yes, but upset that he could finally bring the people around him to stay together and rise? Never.

“If I knew you were going to be this bored, I would’ve picked something else,” Kuroo mumbles, breaking you out of your train of thought again.

“Kuroo, I was bored the second time you made me watch this.” He chuckles a little bit. “Crime documentaries are only interesting the first time.”

“I don’t agree with that, but I’ll put something new on, okay?” Scrolling lazily through the options on Netflix, you sit back and sigh. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Something wrong?”

“Just thinking about how cool you’ve gotten,” you reply, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible. But it’s true. He started as a childhood crush that you merely dismissed as something part of growing up together and talking every day, but it had spiraled out of control before you could control it.

“Falling for me?” he teases with a wry grin.

“I’ve been falling, Tetsu.” It comes out of your mouth almost instinctively. Perhaps you were getting frustrated with the weird limbo that the two of you found yourself in, stuck in the area of something more than friends but not quite lovers. You bite the inside of you cheek to stop yourself from saying anything else.

He’s silent. You wish he weren’t. It’s foolish, but the smallest part of you hopes he’ll say that he feels the same, but you also know about his circumstances, his parents, and his worst fears. It’s selfish of you, and you take his silence as an affirmation of that.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, getting up from the couch. “I’ll get going.”

As you walk quietly outside of his house, you feel a pang of hurt. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you don’t blame him after crossing the unspoken boundary that he’s worked so hard to establish and maintain. But still, you miss him by your side walking you home, lending you a jacket if it was too cold. It’s your first time walking home alone in years, you realize, and you suddenly understand how quiet the night can be without the occasional rambling about chemical compounds or impressive volleyball matches.

When you get home, you almost forget about why you’re feeling so upset in the first place and try to call him before realizing that shouldn’t. You promptly hang up.

iii.

Kuroo dislikes conflict, especially when it has time to grow into something bigger. That’s why, the moment you walk out of his house, he considers his options. He could walk right out of his house to chase you, but what would he even say? He doesn’t like his throat feeling dry, and he definitely does not enjoy not having the proper words. It’s not something he can take lightly, because they’re your feelings, and he can’t step on them any longer.

He supposes that option two would be to wait for things to cool down so that he can apologize for being scared, for loving you so much that he’s afraid to waste your time, get you hopeful, and then let you down. He wonders if you for exactly how long he’s wanted to tell you his feelings and thinks back to his lonely childhood when you were the only one who offered to listen to him, the only one he could rely on, his savior. He didn’t dare to say anything then, and neither did he in high school, but he secretly hoped that teenage impulse would’ve taken the reigns then. It never did.

Instead, he’d just spend his every waking moment thinking about you and his every free weekend by your side while slowly, steadily creating boundaries to prevent himself from acting dumb. It’s a paradox of struggling to stay close to you but keeping you away just enough so that Kuroo won’t give in to instinct. Whether or not the two of you could go back to normal now wasn’t clear to him, and that’s exactly what he despises. Kuroo appreciates clarity and supported answers akin to a well-written research paper or the sound of a volleyball after a cleanly killed spike. He likes to know things, to be sure.

But most importantly, he values settling arguments in a quick and timely manner. He wills to learn from his parents’ mistakes, but the pit of fear he feels as he’s running toward your house close to midnight is a sign to him that he’s just the same as the people he doesn’t want to be like. Perhaps had he cared for you less, he wouldn’t have bothered to make amends. And perhaps you would’ve moved on and found a soulmate that you knew for sure was fated for your love and affection.

He throws pebbles at your bedroom window, hoping that you’re still up. He’s never seen you sleep before 1 AM, but he’s still nervous. When you don’t answer, he tries calling instead. Multiple times.

“What is it?” you mumble quietly, and he finds himself feeling oddly relieved. You open your bedroom window and squint, faintly making out Kuroo’s figure on your yard.

“I wanted to talk,” he replies slowly and takes a deep breath. You don’t say anything, so he takes it as a cue to continued. “I, uh, well first off, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“For someone who breaks into the weirdest motivational speeches I’ve ever heard in my life, you’re sure making this awkward, Tetsu.” Well at least you still had the humor in him to tease him. That’s a good sign.

“There’s not an easy way for me to tell you how much I don’t want to hurt you,” Kuroo answers. Even though it’s dark outside, the dim streetlight lets you see that he has his head hung down low. “Y/N, I like you. And I’m sorry.”

You feel your head spinning. You’re not even sure what he’s trying to say, so instead, you grip your phone tightly. “You better not be talking about liking me as a friend, Tetsu.”

“Yikes, do you really take me for someone like that,” he winces. “I mean it romantically Y/N.”

“Then why are you apologizing?” Your question comes out in shock, and you’re sure that he can hear your heart beat from outside of the window. He looks up at you, smiling.

“Because I don’t know if I should’ve told you,” Kuroo admits. “I don’t know…if we’re meant to be together, and I don’t want to fight with you every day.”

“Tetsu, we’ve known each other for years now, and whenever we fight, we always talk it out,” you say softly into the phone. There’s a brief pause, giving time for Kuroo to deliberate. You bite the bottom of your lip, feeling uncomfortable when he doesn’t say anything back. “I know you’re scared, and I understand why. I’m not gonna force you into something you don’t want to do. We can stay as friends, you know?”

“But I do want something more,” he argues back almost instantly. You hear him tsk under his breath through the line. “Do you…do you know how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand? Y/N, everything I look at reminds me of you, even the little cracks on the sidewalk. But what if we end up hating each other? We can’t even go back to being friends if that happens, and I-“

“Or we fall madly in love with each other.” Kuroo thinks your answer through carefully. Sure, that sounded more likely than his worst-case scenario, but he’s sure that’s what his parents thought too when they started dating and got married. He can’t say for sure though since the only time he’s seen them together was when any sort of affection they used to hold for one another was already gone.  

“Tetsu, we’ll be fine. I know it.”

And just like that, he feels his restraints break apart, years of love and adoration for you spilling out. “I’ll do my best—no. I promise I’ll never hurt you.” He silently makes a mental list of vows, swearing himself to never leave you crying alone, to never drag on arguments for weeks, to never throw anything at you.

“Yeah?” you murmur and take his words to heart. Kuroo’s a man of his word, loyal to a fault. It’s why you fell for him in the first place. “Now, care to come in and tell me exactly what about the sidewalk cracks reminds you of me? I’d like to know.”

iv.

“Babe, last chip,” Kuroo offers, handing you the nearly empty aluminum bag of Lays. You turn away from the movie the two of you are watching to look at him skeptically.

“What happed to my chip-hog, Kuroo Tetsurou?” you ask, feigning shock. He rolls his eyes so hard that you think they’re going to get stuck at the back of his head and starts to take the bag away from you. “Kidding, kidding. Thank you for the last chip. Your generosity is very much appreciated.”

“I’ll have you know that I usually eat healthy, unlike someone I know.” You can’t argue that and instead try to reach for the chip, feeling around the oily inside. You notice Kuroo’s keen gaze on you, unusually keen.

“If you wanted the last bite that badly, you can have it,” you laugh, but he shakes his head, offering a weak smile. You’re about to ask why he’s so strangely before your finger tips feel something solid against the bag. After a little bit of further investigation, you realize that it’s round and metallic and not the last chip. “Tetsu…”

“Sorry, I already had the last chip to be honest,” he confesses rather awkwardly. “There is a leftover though.”

You pull out the item and hold it against the light. The ring itself is just a little bit oily after spending some time in the bag, but it glimmers brightly. Kuroo holds his breath, waiting for a more vocal reaction from you, hands balled up into fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Your eyes dart back and forth between the silver band and his face contorted with anxiety as if he was expecting rejection.

You can’t believe it.

“Tetsu, I love it,” you murmur, awestruck. You take one of his fists, open it up, and place the ring into his palm. “Put it on for me, please.”

Kuroo’s hands are shaking as he gently grabs your fingers, sliding the ring on with ease. He let’s out a sigh of relief upon seeing that the fit is correct, but that isn’t enough to stop his excitement. He hears his heart beating in his ears and feels his eyes become dangerously wet as he looks at you. You smile and then laugh.

“Why are you crying, Tetsu?” you ask. He’s heard your voice thousands of times now, but there’s something about it now, it’s honey-like quality, that makes him melt even more and falls in love all over again. Pulling you into his chest, he buries his face into the crook of your neck so that you can’t see him crying, but you sure can feel the dampness from his tears and his shaking body. “Hm?”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” His voice is just above a whisper, tickling your ear. You feel him press a slow kiss onto your neck before continuing. “I dunno…I thought you wouldn’t want to do the whole marriage thing with me.”

“Why not?” You’re devastated that he’d even think that and wonder what you haven’t been doing to give him that boost of confidence. Kuroo notices your sudden change in tone, nuzzling further into his neck while making a sound of disagreement.

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbles. “It’s just…why would you marry someone that isn’t even your soulmate for sure?”

“We’re soulmates even if our quotes don’t match.” You say it with so much confidence that Kuroo’s heart almost stops. He knows that neither of you can be sure, not with so many people with the same engraving in his chest, but he feels as if he can believe you. “What about you? If anything, I thought that you didn’t want to do the whole marriage thing.”

Kuroo doesn’t reply. Instead he thinks back to the first major fight you two had. It started as something small and trivial but grew faster than he had anticipated into something much more serious. He remembers the yelling, the words exchanged that neither of you truly meant, and the door slamming and the lonely night he spent sleeping on the couch that followed. He had thought that it was over, that the two of you weren’t meant to be together, and it crushed him. Without noticing, he had become greedy and wanted to desperately keep you in his arms at night instead of letting you slip away to another possible soulmate, so when you finally left your room the following morning and broke into a conversation, compromising and talking over the events from the previous night, it was a weight off his shoulders.

But more importantly, it convinced him that the two of you were already far better than his parents who had left their problems unsolved. He could do this, and so could you, he reasons, and that was exactly what he thought when he bought the ring.

“I just love you a lot and wanted to try something new, you know? Maybe it could work out, like you said,” he finally answers, leaving his thoughts behind. He leaves his spot at your neck to face you, eyes fond with a grin. “And to be honest? I don’t think I’d be able to let you go that easily. Soulmate or not, you have me wrapped around your finger.”

You laugh and trail your fingers across his cheat. “I’m glad you think that way, because I’d hate not being forced to watch these boring movies every weekend.”

“You seemed pretty invested a little while ago though,” he teases back, pecking you on the cheek.

“No way.” You return the action by kissing the tip of his nose and raking your fingers through his hair. You swear he purrs but choose not the ruin the moment. “I was just thinking about something.”

“About me?” he says with his goofy smirk.

“Yeah,” is all you say, but before you can respond with something witty, Kuroo presses his lips to yours. He feels your eyes flutter shut and hums in content, smiling a little at your reaction. The two of you would be much more than just okay, he thinks, finding your hand once again to run his fingers over your ring. And then, feeling a little bit courageous, he find himself imagining a petal-adorned aisle and ringing bells, all with you standing by with him.

[jinjojess]

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part XI

It is finally time to start chipping away at Chapter 2 of DR Kirigiri Vol. 5!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 2 Not-So-Daily Life*

(*or “Deadly Life” if you want to be consistent with the localized games)

This chapter starts with Samidare returning to her room at the dorms in the early morning hours, as has become custom as of late. Since classes have started for the day, there’s no one around, making the entire area feel creepy and surreal. 

I rushed to my room, seeking its life-saving comfort, and threw open the door.

But…Kirigiri wasn’t there.

I had expected that she of all people would have already solved her mystery, and I’d find her curled up in my bed, but instead I found nothing in the futon. It wasn’t even warm, hinting that she hadn’t returned yet.

I collapsed into bed and passed out. It was a dreamless, death-like sleep.

I woke up to the sound of a bell, shooting up in bed and looking around to assess my surroundings.

Looking around, soaked in sweat and suffering chills, I realized I wasn’t at the site of a bizarre murder, or trapped within a creepy building. It was just my room.

Whew.

I’d been able to come home safely. Even as my head pounded from the drop in my blood pressure, the sense that this was real finally began to wash over me. 

I looked at the clock to find that it was already noon. The bell I’d heard was the school bell signaling we were halfway through the day.

Next, I checked my phone; this was the set time we’d agreed upon to check in. I was supposed to hear from Yaki at twelve sharp, followed by Yadorigi fifteen minutes later, then Mizuiyama, and finally Kirigiri. 

Even though it was five past noon, though, I didn’t get a call from Yaki.

Without bothering to tame my bedhead, I trudged to the dorm’s cafeteria and switched on the TV there. A news report announced Yaki’s death, on the corner of a shuttered up shopping street.

So he was killed…

Though he hadn’t been the most approachable type, he had been a good person, and very cooperative.

If we hadn’t asked him to help us with the investigations, he’d probably still be alive. No matter how you sliced it, his blood was on my hands. I might as well have killed him myself. Me. I killed him. I…

I hid my face in my hands in the empty cafeteria, hiding in the darkness behind my eyelids.

This was the path I had chosen.

The one Kirigiri had been walking all this time.

No matter how hard I worked to protect people, in the end, I couldn’t save everyone’s lives. No matter what, I had to make choices about who to save and who to let go.

Though, maybe if I’d been talented enough, I could have saved him.

Please, just let me save more people…

At that moment, my phone buzzed in my hand. I didn’t recognize the number.

“…Hello?”

“Is this Samidare Yui-san? This is Tooakitsu Nazuna.”

“Ah!” I was so happy to hear a familiar voice that I looked up without thinking. “Naz-chan! What’s up? How did you get this number?”

“Detective Yadorigi asked me to call you at exactly 12:15. You had an agreement about checking in, yes?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean… Man, how dependable.”

After the whole ordeal, Nazuna, Tsukiyo, and Yadorigi all went to the hospital in the ambulance. They recommended I come along too, but I just wanted to get home as soon as possible and regain some sense of normalcy. 

“Yadorigi-san is currently in the ICU. He was conscious on the way to the hospital, but given that he sustained a head injury, you never know how things may go.”

“Yeah… Naz-chan, are you and Tsukiyo okay?”

“There’s nothing wrong with us. Tsukiyo-san is sleeping right here beside me.”

“That’s good to hear…”

“Also, I have a message for you from Yadorigi-san.”

Nazuna told me the details of the Kareobana Academy case. Since I hadn’t actually been a part of it myself, the whole thing sounded outrageous.

“Thanks, that means we’ve solved at least one of the cases so far. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank Yadorigi-san.”

Without him, we’d have been trapped in the Libra Girls’ Academy forever, and the case would have gone unsolved. On top of that, he even solved the Kareobana Academy case too. No wonder–Rank 2 detectives were on a whole other level.

Perhaps best of all, he hadn’t betrayed us in the end. Though even without the whole Mizuiyama thing, I was so happy that someone as attentive and skilled as him was helping us that I could have cried. 

“By the way, what happened to the Mystery Club? It looked like they came with you to the hospital…”

“After making sure Yadorigi-san was okay, they headed to the police station. Apparently they went to let them know what happened during the case.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ll leave that part of it to them, then. Sounds like they’ve got it.”

“Indeed. Oh, also, Yadorigi-san said one last thing. ‘It may be inevitable that I need to retreat from the front lines, but I have no intention of giving up. I need to fight for her sake.’”

“Her sake?”

There was only one person he could mean.

So, she really had been that important to him. I felt like I could more or less tell why he’d decided to help us. Perhaps it was simply by chance that he was on our side. 

After the message, Naz talks about how cool Samidare was, and how even though she’s a high school student like her and Tsukiyo, she seemed so much older and wiser. Samidare protests, claiming that she didn’t do much of anything, and asks if she’s calling her an old lady, to which Naz says no, and she shouldn’t be so modest. The way she was ready to protect them no matter what was really impressive, and she thinks that being a detective is a really noble profession. 

In fact, she asks Samidare if she too could become a detective someday, and in the process of answering that hell yeah, she’s got the stuff, Samidare remembers that there’s some significant drawbacks to the life. 

She remembers what Mizuiyama asked her earlier:

“But who saves the heroes who save so many others?”

Her words echoed in the back of my brain.

Who did save detectives when they were hurt or in trouble?

“Samidare Yui-san. When this is all over, can we meet up again?” Nazuna asked.

“Sure, of course. Hey, when summer comes, let’s all go to the beach.”

“That sounds great. I’ll have to lose some weight before then.”

And with that promise for sometime in the unknown future, we hung up.

It was 12:30.

It was time for Mizuiyama to check in, but given that she was currently under arrest, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as I thought that, my phone rang.

Worried, I pressed the button to accept the call. 

“Hello…?”

“You know there is no need to be that frightened of me, right?”

It was Mizuiyama.

Dun Dun DUUUUUUUN!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

[serendipitykpop]

i really, really love you

Pairing: oh sehun x reader

Summary: “I really, really love you.”

“It just sucks, you know? When they promise you forever, then they go and break your heart as if none of what you had meant anything to them. I mean, how can someone be so cruel to do that to the person they swore they loved with all their heart and soul? Just how?”

Chanyeol’s shoulders trembled as he tried to hold back his sorrow, but his heart was far too broken to be mended. Tears stained his cheeks and his chest ached with disappointment. He felt numb and empty, no longer able to feel anything but hurt and anger.

Love was an ugly beast that gave no mercy to even those who were careful with it.

“Where did it all go wrong?” The boy wept into his hands. Sehun placed his hand on his older member’s shoulder, trying to give him some comfort. There wasn’t much he could do, but he could be there by his side.

He felt for him, but he knew it was never meant to be. Sehun, as well as the other members, knew Chanyeol’s partner was never going to love him in a way he deserved. They were selfish and cruel. They played his heart so easily with sweet words and so-called pure intentions. They used him until they drained him of everything they once promised him.

“Chanyeol, you sacrificed your wellbeing to make sure they were always loved and taken care of.”

“But it wasn’t enough, Sehun. It was never enough. I was never enough and I suppose I’ll never find out why.” Chanyeol let out a sigh and leaned back on his hands, looking up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes as he tried to calm down.

But what he said wasn’t true at all. 

He always did more than he should’ve. Whenever his partner wanted attention or needed help with something, Chanyeol dropped everything just to run to them. He bought them all the finest things that anyone could ever dream of. He pampered them with gifts and love letters when he was feeling extra mushy. He showered them with kisses and hugs as a way to profess his undying love.

He truly was in love with them. So in love that he exhausted himself out when they had asked for too much too many times. It got so bad that Chanyeol stopped being himself. It was as if he was a dead shell walking around and pushing himself to perform. He didn’t find joy in anything he once loved doing.

It was too cruel. How much did someone have to endure just to have a little love in their life?

Sehun’s fingers curled into a fist. His friend didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

Chanyeol opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at the boy. He softly chuckled, sniffling. “I’m sorry. You were meant to go to Y/N’s house before you came to comfort me, weren’t you?”

“I was, but that’s okay. Y/N’ll understand when I explain things.”

Chanyeol shook his head, placing his hand on Sehun’s shoulder before nudging him to get going.

“Don’t keep Y/N waiting. Go on.”

“But Chanyeol.” Sehun’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Don’t worry yourself, kid. I’ll be fine. I’ve got the members’ shoulders to cry if I need to.” He tried to joke and smile. It made Sehun’s heart hurt, seeing one of his members like this. It was tough. “Go.”

Sehun was hesitant, but did what he said. He gathered up his things, looked back at him one last time to make sure before he was shooed away. Chanyeol watched over him with a small smile, then threw himself back onto the couch.

“Take care of Y/N well, Sehun.”

Sehun’s steps were heavy as he made his way to your house. He still worried about Chanyeol and even felt conflicted for leaving him at a time like this, but it was he himself who told him to go.

“I’m home,” Sehun announced upon stepping into your house, a habit he picked up every time he came over and you would greet with a welcome home despite not actually living there.

You were sitting on the couch under a blanket, hands moving about as they created a gift of some sort. Your bedhead was ever so present and you were in your pajamas, meaning you just woke up not too long ago. You looked dazed, but still were awake enough to concentrate on the gift. Yawning, you let out a mewl.

The sight of you made a warm feeling spread throughout his body.

He was so lucky to have you and he hoped he showed it he did every day. You were his and he was yours, and he hoped it stay like that for all eternity.

Upon hearing the sudden appearance of a human being, you looked up to see who it was. Your eyes sparkled when you saw him. A big smile made its way onto your face as you ran to him with open arms.

“Sehun, welcome ho-” Before you could finish, he engulfed you in a bear hug. Your eyes widened, but softened as you wrapped your arms around him. You recuperated his love with your own and leaned in to kiss his cheek. This prompted him to hold you tighter. He buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Something was wrong. He was clingier and quieter than usual.

You didn’t ask him and held him until he felt ready to tell you what was bothering him. The two of you stood like this for some time and now, you were getting worried. Did something happen at the dorms that made him like this?

“Y/N,” His voice softly called for you.

“Yes, my love?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do.”

“I really, really love you and I’m sorry if I have ever taken you or your love for granted. I’m sorry if I don’t show you enough how much I love you. I’m sorry for ever making you upset or cry because of me. I’m sorry if I don’t give you enough attention or affection. I’m sorry if it seems like I brush you off sometimes, but I swear I’ll make it up to you always.” He squeezed you tighter. 

Before you had the chance to reply, he continued.

“You make me very happy and I love talking to you every chance I get. I swear I’ll never break your heart and I hope I can continue to have the privilege of making you happy for the rest of our lives.” Sehun promised you.

When he pulled away, your eyes welled up in tears as you bit down on your lip to stop them from quivering. Alarms went off in his head, thinking he caused this. He grew worried and started to fuss.

“Y-Y/N, why are you crying?” His lips formed a pout, hands cupping your face and fingers wiping away every tear that fell.

“I just didn’t expect for you to say something as sweet as that. It took me by surprise!” You softly chuckled, making him relax. His cheeks grew a rosy hue and he cleared his throat.

“I was just saying.”

You grinned at him, giggling and shaking your head. A smile of his own finally graced his face and the two of you stared at each other with goofy smiles.

You didn’t know where he got the idea of him not being enough for you. If anything, he was more than enough. He did the utmost for you even when you didn’t ask because you deserve the best of everything. He did everything in his power to always make sure you were happy and smiling, never spilling a tear around him. He didn’t allow that possibility. Even when he was dead tired, he would still go along with your shenanigans if you asked him.

Most importantly, he never stopped showing you how much he loved you. It was evident in everything he did.

““I love you, Oh Sehun.”

“I love you too, Y/N L/N.” He leaned his forehead against yours. 

The promise of swearing your love to each other engulfed the silence as you and Sehun held each other.

While you may never find out why he suddenly confessed such a thing, you can’t say you didn’t dislike it.

“My heart will never stop loving you, my love.”

[freddy-ryland]

scene ii: the art of memory

turn up the volume I'm not listening the dialogue is static and I start to panic and the music fades

The dull roar in her ears was familiar as she stepped out of the glowing green flames, hurrying forward a few steps to make room for the tell-tale whoosh of a similar traveler. The teenager was sure to wipe her sooty palms off on a handkerchief, straightening out her jumper before approaching the visitor's desk. There was a long winding line behind the little gate, stamped with the Ministry Seal, but she sidestepped it and waited for the man to wave at her. 

There were a few noises of annoyance as Freddy cleared the line, but a singular glare from the attending Auror shut them up. Freddy patted Amara Bone's arm, who flushed and continued to stand ramrod straight. The elder Hufflepuff had always been kind to her at Hogwarts; she'd woken up with Amara carrying her back to her room many times after passing out around the castle. Amara always cut a surprisingly imposing figure, despite being one of the softest people Freddy had met in her life.

"Another top-secret meeting with our magical mimes eh Lil' Ry," The man had a shockingly bad case of bedhead and a lazy eye, he told her tales that he popped the eye out during the war to scare Snatchers so he could get the drop on them in a fight, and it never healed right. "Thinkin' that you might as well become a mime yourself, missus."

"Gerald, I think I've had my fill of our devout Unspeakables," she flashed him a smile as he continued to process her wand, a rigid formality, "and I've every intention to make a grand escape of them once I graduate."

"A grand escape, eh?"

"Oh yes, it's all very planned out, our lovely chats will come to an end. I'll be sure to send you a postcard." She had a map of every place she wanted to see, already marked up and pasted to her wall.

"You do that girl," Gerald smiled, he was missing his front tooth, and it always gave his words a distinctive whistling sound, "you get outta here an' far away from those mimes before they trap you in their circus."

"I was thinking of joining the circus actually, as a fortune-teller. Get some real-world experiences," Freddy grinned, "though I have plenty of experience working with mimes and clowns." Gerald's whistling laugh followed her through the marbled Atrium as she squeezed by, fixating her visitor's badge to the front of her sweater. 

More than a few ministry workers recognized her, between Micah and Uncle Kinglsey and her Mum being the Healer for the rich and pure, Freddy had been around these halls since she was born. Most offered small smiles and mayne some gently awkward small talk and returned to their lives. An older red-haired woman held the elevator door open for her as Freddy thanked her profusely, having nearly missed it after being waylaid by some friend-of-Mom's-patients-nephew. It wasn't unusual to see teenagers at the Ministry, between internships and family, but it was unusual to see 'Department of Mysteries' embossed on her visitor's badge. It earned her a few looks on the crowded elevator so Freddy simply smiled and watched the arrow tick. Slowly the overfilled elevator began to empty until it was just Freddy left. Kicking her heels against the ground, the teenager started to gently sweat under her loose top, a pit opening as she watched the arrow tick down and down towards 9.

Finally, the door opened, and the Hufflepuff stepped out into the Atrium, a cold desolate place. The floors were disconcertingly white, the kind of white that reminds you of dying, shined to such a high polish that Freddy could see up her own skirt. The walls were covered in etched runes and spells in Latin, Greek and possibly more than a few ancient, dead languages. There were no portraits adorning the sparse walls, only four statues in each corner of the room, all of which were humans in some sort of distorted way. Unspeakable Hawkins once told her they were reminders of how the human soul can twist when experimenting with unknown magic, a warning of sorts to the workers. A reminder. One she didn't need as Freddy looked away from the child chimera hybrid writhing on the ground below the impatient glare of an older woman who held a gnarled rod above it’s body. There was a distinctive clicking noise that was the only sound in the room, and Freddy moved towards it, keeping a careful eye on the statues. 

The Hufflepuff hated when they moved, or decided to watch her.

A woman sat behind a similarly Spartan desk, typing away and glaring at the man sitting at the lone mid-century chair that looks like a child's under his bulk and stature. His shock of royal purple and gold robes were dazzlingly out of place in this room, and as the receptionist sniffed at Freddy in her voiceless greeting, Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up. His lips pulled into a comfortingly wide smile.

"Uncle King?" Freddy hurried across the marble, taking care not to slip on the slick surface, "what are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to check on your progress with Madame Basnet--"

"Unspeakable Basnet, Mr. Shacklebolt," the receptionist, Alisha snapped, her box braids whipping around her head so she could level a cold glare at him, "do remember her title, Sir." The clack! clack! clack! continued it's metronome and paper continued to feed into it with twitches of her pinky.

"Forgive me, Madame Kieta," his grin might’ve been charming to anyone else but the living statue at the desk. 

Her face pinched returning to her typing, the clack of the typewriter going faster as the door in front of them began to open. Freddy never understood how she opened it when her fingers never left the typewriter. "Mr. Shacklebolt has already taken his Vow of Silence, he may enter. As for you, Ms. Ryland, the statues will tell if you've been following your end of the contract."

Following her end of the contract, a contract she took when she was still a child and was somehow so binding it made her keep having to coming here every goddamn week. Just the notion of still being forced by a decade old scrap of parchment was enough to make her want to cuss Ms. Kieta out. 

But, Uncle Kingsley held his arm out, and in the fashion of any proper young woman of magical society, she took it with a gentle bob of her knees. Long schooled into her by her Mum. She kept her mouth shut, teeth grinding on sharp words until they became soft powder. 

The statue from the corner crawled over as they crossed the invisible barrier between the rest of the world and the Department of Mysteries. It was an eyeless thing, mouth carved open and gapping with marble streaks of drool. Truly it would’ve been an impressive piece of art if it wasn’t so gruesome. Its movement caused a grinding sound of stone on stone; the magicked creature prowled around her ankles before coming up behind her shoulder.

Freddy stood stock still, eyes screwing tight. She'd seen what happened when someone broke their Silence Vows, and the statue found it. The teen remembered how fast they moved and the high-pitched whistling sound they made for an alarm. She remembered how the woman's skull cracked when marble met marble with a body between. Freddy had been tugged in by Unspeakable Ellie, and sat down with comforting head pats from folk who didn’t know how to pet a cat without being constipated.

The teenager let out a sigh, not unlike a balloon, as the statue nudged her hand, cold and hard, before retreating to its sentry position in the corner.

"Horrible creatures," Kingsley whispered; his knuckles were white, and the bulge of his biceps were stone beneath her tightened grip, "wholly unnecessary for someone of your position." For all that he was a war hero her Uncle always did take far too much pride in their family position at the Ministry, but that was just pureblood upbringing for you. 

"The Department must have their protections, even from someone overly familiar."

Kingsley made a noise of disapproval before they entered the real Atrium. The place was a madhouse in truth, positively Frankenstienan compared to the cold room they just left. Messenger papers were flying above their heads and the distant sound of a boom. Desks were smashed together while massive runes covered thick paper; one desk was dedicated to writing implements -- quill, pen, pencil, charcoal, blood ink, unicorn blood ink, paint, chalk. In addition, there was a large bookcase stretching from floor to ceiling and filled to bursting with papers, books, and more than a few stone tablets. 

Unspeakable Hawkins was rushed past, jostling a cauldron and a papyrus scroll. He offered a cursorary wave before cursing as he tripped over a series of tangled wires. In a distant corner, Freddy noted a man talking to himself, Keith? Kai? Kyle? She couldn't remember his name, nor what they spoke of, nor anything about him. His name started with a 'K,' and he always looked half beaten to death with exhaustion. Unspeakable Ellie (who refused her surname for security purposes) was orchestrating a jostling crowd of marmosets, succulents, several hummingbirds, and a single cacti in a floating box headed towards a door marked with green. Freddy could see the bone thorns on her shoulders and arms peeking between the folds of her bulky Unspeakable robe even from this distance. There were doors all around them, moving in and out of existence. It reminded Freddy remarkably of Lib-Con, without the fun of it. Only hurried, furious magical workings, the scent of stale coffee and the ambiance of lab rats on a wheel chasing only certain death via science (or magic). The doors that led to the various Halls of Magic were locked to her personally, but employees busted in and out at breakneck pace. The smaller doors belonged to offices and various other tinkering workshops where booms and clangs shook the floor and no-one batted a single eyelash. It was an orchestra of chaos, with no conductor keeping track, time or tempo.

Above all the noise Cassandra Basnet walked like a whisper, in a tight business uniform that seemed more in place with the Department of Law Enforcement. Not even a single item of turquoise or jade adorned her person, no jangle of obtrusive jewelry or an obnoxious scent of sage or patchouli marked her for a Divination expert like others in the field. There were no stray tea leaves or frog spawn in her pockets, nor a deck of tarot cards in hand. Hair pulled back in such a severe bun that it would make Headmistress McGonagall wince. Yet, even with the power walk of a misandrist girlboss, no one could deny that Unspeakable Basnet is beautiful with her high cheekbones and startlingly green eyes, always decorated with minimal make up and on occasion wire frame glasses. Her walk slowed, dodging desks, the tenseness in her arms softened as she came closer before wrapping Freddy into a familiar hug, tugging her straight from her Uncle's arms.

Freddy tensed but hugged back, politely but wincing as she felt the surprisingly heavyweight of Cassandra's arm. It was a show of dominance, and all parties knew that as she pulled away, keeping a possessive arm around Freddy's shoulders.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, I had no idea you'd be joining our little shindig today." Her smile was florescent bright. "My little crystal didn't send a word."

"I simply wanted to do a quick drop-in. It's so difficult to plan these sorts of things these days."

"Well, I am always happy to have someone of your esteem in our halls. Come to my office. Today is hectic, we've had more than a few breakthroughs, so everyone is very excited. They'd probably want to drag Freddy to show off, and we can't have that." 

Moving through the zoo, they found a deep maroon door that came into the similarly stark office, the wall covered in crystal balls, palmistry books, more than a few photos of Freddy in various states of having a Sight or Vision. Several papers on her desk and a bronze paperweight in the shape of a jaguar, which Freddy knew to be her Patronus. A plush couch pushed up against the wall with a gauzy veil over it to block light. Freddy had passed out many times on that couch after long days working with her powers and had woken up an unknown number of times under a heavy weighted blanket that laid folded up neat against the arm. The desk was minimalistic, and there was a single dark brown leather armchair in front of it, where Kingsley settled his imposing mass into, without so much as an invitation, lounging like a panther.

Freddy dropped herself onto the couch, pulling her sweater tighter around herself, wishing with all her might that a pit would open beneath her butt and drop her from this incredibly awkward situation. 

"So, Mr. Shacklebolt, have you any questions about Freddy's instruction here with me? Concerns?" She kept her voice even and relaxed, puttering around the office shuffling and filing papers, pulling out an all too familiar folder more than three inches thick. Quills marched to their places on the desk with muttered incantations. She was absolute crap at wordless magic for all of Basnet's abilities, and her wandless magic was abysmal. All in all, Freddy regarded her as a less than average witch, but no one could deny that she had some sorta latent power and her mind was a whetstone on which she sharpened it. 

"Just wish to observe as much of Freddy's instruction as possible. Our family has begun to worry that perhaps she has grown stagnant in this environment. Our Freddy may need some more... varied instruction" though his tone remained polite, there was a distinct sense of 'fuck you' in each curated word. She knew her parents were worried, but she hadn't realized how nervous her Mom had asked her esteemed cousin to attend. "You know, young wix, always needing to be pushed in the right direction, teachers can make or break a future."

"Of course, however," Basnet pulled down several more books and smiled, "there is a point where I will have to ask you to leave. Your Vow of Silence only goes so far when it comes to more... delicate magical workings."

"I will respect that; however, if Freddy should ask me to stay, then I'd like to push that envelope."

"We'll see if you have any questions--"

"Believe me," his eyes flickered towards Freddy before back to Basnet, steel entering his voice, "I will speak up."

"Alright, now," Basnet turned her piercing gaze onto the teenager who squirmed in her seat, "Freddy, what did you have for breakfast?"

It seemed a harmless question if it weren't for the fact that she couldn't remember. 

"I believe I had some toast and tea."

"Do you believe or know?"

"Believe," Freddy answered, clipped and strangled.

Basnet noted something down on parchment, "This morning, what time did you wake up?"

"Seven o'clock; I went for a walk with Micah." She could smell the lavender, see the brick they walked on. She was sure of that.

"Where did you walk to?"

"The shops down the road had to pick up some things." The man greeted them, or was it his daughter? What day was it... Tuesday? His daughter then.

"What things? List them."

"Milk, bread, some cleaning supplies for mum. I wanted one of their cookies."

"Flavor?"

"Chocolate." Her fingers ran over the packaging still in her pocket, the embossed words 'Ghirardelli' guiding her answer.

"Good, you had breakfast when you came home?"

"Yes, I had a small vision while we were walking, just a flash."

"What was it?"

"A child screaming."

Basnet frowned, "Just a flash?"

"Just her and the sound, then it went away, lasted less than half a second."

Kingsley was watching Basnet's hands like a hawk, no doubt trying to decipher what she was writing. 

"So you believe you had breakfast, then you came straight here."

"Yes." Freddy shifted her weight.

"Who helped you at the Visitors Gate?" The question came fast, a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Tierney whispered 'Your Mom.'

"Gerald, we chatted for a few minutes, nothing crazy. He was asking about my plans for post-grad." she ground her teeth. "I told him I was leaving after graduation, maybe to join a circus." That earned her two eye-rolls from both adults. "I said I had enough experience working with mimes and clowns." Basnet sneered and continued to jot things down.

"Who was the Auror on guard?" 

Freddy stopped.

Fuck. Wait, no, she had seen them. They had waved them through. She knew them, but their faces were blurred. Their robes weren't trimmed with any color.

"I'm not sure of their name!" She answered brightly, "I don't know everyone in the Auror Department." She hoped the lie would stick. 

But Basnet pressed further, steepling her fingers and peering at her over the tips of her chipped manicure. "Who were they, Freddy? Surely you would know most of the Aurors; give me an image, a gender."

"Now it's insulting to assume they use one of the binary genders, Madame Basnet!" Freddy was grasping at straws now, plowing through her memory over and over again. Who was standing there? Had they smiled? Did Freddy touch them? Sometimes the Aurors give her high fives or slip her a candy. She patted her pockets; they were empty except for the cookie wrapper and some lint. So who was at the Gate? "I can't-- I don't. I wasn't paying attention."

"It was Auror Amara Bones," Freddy's mouth went dry, and unshed tears came to her eyes, "but you can't remember that can you? Who held the door open for you on the elevator?" It was a woman, right? Freddy began to tug on the sleeves of her sweater. Maybe it was a man, a tall man? That didn't seem right... "What did you have for dinner last night? Who did you have lunch with last week? What is the name of the delivery boy at your work?" 

Questions began to pile up before Freddy finally shook her head.

"I--"

"What. Is going on." Kingsley stood from his chair, coming around to press a hand to the top of Freddy's head. "What are you badgering her for?"

"Short-term memory loss," Basnet finally said, "her memory it's," she wiggled her fingers, "going wonky for lack of a better term. Her power is a mental one. The more it gets used, the stronger it gets, the more it affects the brain."

"What does that mean?"

"What it means, Mr. Shacklebolt is that Freddy is losing her memories, short blips of time are being lost in her day-to-day life, and your visions are getting stronger, more detailed, aren't they? What did your vision smell like?"

"Piss." It came sharp, "The child was screaming and smelled like pee, the ground was brick, and it was cold out."

"All that in a flash requires a mind to remember. As they get stronger, her daily memories get lost."

"What is your plan?"

Basnet shook her head, "There really isn't one; we can just continue to manage the Visions, work on keeping them longer or stopping them when they start. But the memory loss is a side effect, like her migraines, like her nosebleeds. So it can only be managed, not healed."

"So what you're telling me is that all this is a waste of our goddamn time?" Kingsley was angry now, but his voice boomed from deep within his chest. "She is coming here just to have you manage her? 

"Teach her to handle it better, Mr. Shackle--"

"Get up, Freddy," the teenager flinched as Kingsley seemed to dominate the room, though Basnet sat pristinely and seemingly unaffected at her desk, "we are leaving. I will not have you waste your time as it gets worse."

"Freddy, stay."

The teenager hovered at the couch, her fists tightening under their equal gaze.

"Freddy, you know you can't leave yet, don't you?" Basnet's voice was sugar-sweet, "Your time isn't up today, as agreed upon." 

Persephone chose her place with Hades, she decided to eat the pomegranate seeds, and Freddy desperately wished to throw hers up. 

"Uncle... The contract says 8 hours a week during non-school time. I can't leave yet."

Her Uncle was breathing thunderclouds before sitting back down in the chair, "Continue," he ground out.

Slowly Freddy walked through last week. She could count up at least 20 instances of purely lost memory. More than 50 flashing visions, and 5 of the longer ones. They continued to record and tally up each one until finally they were done at the two-hour mark. Taking a deep breath, Freddy leaned against the back of the couch, her legs pulled up against her chest despite being far too tall for such a position.

"I think that is enough for the day," Basnet finally hummed, "We can make up the hours later this week, perhaps Friday?"

"Sure, I don't work that day."

"Excellent, now I want you to keep a notebook, make notes of when you forget things. Then, start playing some muggle brain games. I've heard Sudoku is helpful, and we'll talk to St. Mungo's about their memory-impaired patients and what they do. So that'll be my homework." Freddy nodded, hopping off the couch and stretching out her tensed limbs as her Uncle stood by the door, opening it.

"Mr. Shacklebolt," the man didn't look at her, "next time, do tell me when you plan on dropping by, we can have a more formal session planned, and it won't be as startling then while we do our work."

"Thank you for your time. Freddy, let's go."

The duo strode through the Department Atrium. They passed into the white marble room, where the receptionist quirked a brow. She knew that Freddy's sessions were usually much longer. Then they stepped into the elevator, and with a murmured silencing charm, Kingsley looked down at her. 

"I want to see that contract."

"Dad has it."

"I want a legal team to search it," there was a lightness in her chest, "she is a goodman quack, you are getting worse, and your control is minimal at best."

Freddy grimaced because, in truth, it was better than it had ever been, but neither her Uncle nor Basnet needed to know that. She didn't need Basnet poking around her head any more than she usually did. 

"We can find other help. There are many bright wix in the world who can help you, other Seers."

"I know. But we need to stop talking about it, the wards..." watching the arrow tick up and up.

"Of course," they both fell silent as the voice rang out -- "8th Floor!"

Freddy leaned against her Uncle's arm, and he curled her tighter against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I had no idea how bad your condition has gotten." She nodded slowly, trying not to let a tear fall. "We'll get you out of this contract, get you some real help. Basnet has done well with your control, but frankly, it's not enough anymore."

"She tried--" Freddy started weakly before closing her jaw together with a click. The wards were in place, and Freddy was far too terrified to talk too much about what Basnet had her doing. What envelopes she was pushing. Freddy could only think of the swirls of the room, the way she'd wake up, her memory blank and energy drained, the way she'd vomit blood up, and the glare of a timer going far, far past the agreed 10-minute mark. Breaking the Vows of Silence for the Department of Mysteries led to tragedy. Though Freddy had looser restrictions than any regular Unspeakable, she hardly wanted to test the boundary here.

"Trying to use the wrong family's kid is what she’s trying to do.” He was tense, every inch of him and every movement militaristic. “I'll have the Head of the Department investigate her. Then we'll see where we're at with getting you a new teacher. I’ll speak with my Mother, she has connections with the other magical schools." So this really was a family matter.

But, Freddy knew that it would take a lot more than the Shacklebolt name thrown around to get her out of the contract. But she let her Uncle have the optimism and simply let him crack jokes and tell funny anecdotes for the rest of the elevator ride up. Freddy popped in on occasion, exchanging a quip or describing a new story about her friends from school and things going on at the candy shop. 

Freddy hardly noticed they were already at the Visitor's Gate, a low thrumming headache forming at the back of her skull. She rubbed gently at her eyes; they were aching too. Maybe she ought to get checked at St. Mungo's to see if they could get her any more potent headache potions. 

"Gerald! I didn't know you were working today."

"Huh, lassie? You were just here, not even 3 hours ago? I checked you in, remember?" Gerald gently took her visitor's badge, "We were chatting..."

Freddy's face fell, and Kingsley tensed as she tripped over her words before finally exiting. Amara stood there, concern blatant; Freddy peered up at her before sharply turning away. They paused at the fireplaces, and Freddy looked at Kingsley, tears in her eyes, and whispered quietly. He seemed deep in thought.

"Uncle King?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know if I Flooed in this morning?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked down on her, a feat with her height, and gently slid his hand into hers and tugged her into the Floo, gently calling out "Ryland Residence, Falmouth." 

Freddy let her world go up in flames and didn't remember stepping out of them this morning.

[digitalworldbound]

miyako and hikari (platonic) for 133?

Number 133: “Slushies aren’t just for kids. Fuck society!”

Characters: Miyako & Hikari. Finally, one of my 02 babies! This is set while the girls are maybe around 15 and 16.

I wrote this in first person as Hikari, just to give it a more casual, carefree feel! I hope you enjoy these teenager-y, summer vibes. The ending kind of sucks, but please ignore it. (Minor swearing) 

Send me a prompt! 

As a certified teenager, it’s safe to assume that I love summer. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the time of the year when you can pretty much do whatever you like. Summer is the grand time where the months-long prep and countdown for family vacations actually come in fruition.

But there’s danger that lurks during summer. It’s the trap of monotony where sleeping late, waking up at noon, watching endless TV, and playing video games for hours become a routine. Well, not if you are friends with Miyako.

Despite chatting with friends into the wee hours of the morning, the girl is an early riser. She’s the “get up and go” type, only grabbing a banana for breakfast as she sprints out the front door. Afterall, an object in motion in stays in motion.

It was the first Saturday of summer vacation when she barged into my room, a flurry of purple hair and lipgloss. “Hika!” she screeched. Miyako was one of the only people that called me by a nickname, and never failed to abuse this privilege. “What are you still doing in bed? If you want to go scope out hot guys on the beach with me, you have to get up. We’re burning daylight!”

I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was inhumanly early. The coffee machine in the kitchen was silent, and the sound of my brother snoring permeated the apartment. Somehow, I managed to pull myself away from the warmth of a slept-in comforter, yawning all the while. Before my feet hit the floor, Miyako was rummaging through my wardrobe, clicking her tongue in disapproval at my large collection of borrowed basketball t-shirts. “Hmm, where do all these come from, I wonder?” she asked pointedly. She laughed airily, flashing me a wink.

“Ha, ha, Miya, very funny. You know me and him are just friends,” I offered, attempting to stretch the sleep out of my joints. She shook her head in disapproval, purple ponytail swinging behind her.

A note about Miyako: she fancies herself a matchmaker, and believed I was her perfect target.

For years, she has tried everything to pair me up with my best friend. A few summers ago, she locked us both in the hall closet, smushing us between the extra linens and a scratchy, wool blanket. Takeru and I are pretty close, so we weren’t particularly bothered by our close proximity. We might have been able to enjoy our time together had Miyako not forgotten about us. It wasn’t until my brother came home from soccer practice that someone heard our desperate pleas for freedom. Ever since then, she has stayed out of it.

With a hum of approval, she tossed a sundress in my direction.  I barely had time to catch the flimsy, yellow fabric before she barked out another order. “Go to the bathroom and put that on, we need to hurry.”

Another note about Miyako: Never argue with her when she gets in one of her Moods.

My socked feet padded their way silently to the bathroom, pausing only to check the time displayed in the hall: 7:45 in the morning. Changing quickly, I slipped the sundress over last season’s bathing suit, adjusting the straps as the material settled around my hips. Miyako, being a full year older than me, had taken puberty gracefully, filling out gradually and evenly. My body, it seemed, had other plans. The hips seemed to be its first priority, leaving the top of my dress little to fill itself out.

I made my way back towards my room, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. Miyako sat atop my bed, flicking through a stray magazine. She hadn’t noticed my arrival, and I took my few extra moments of silence to study her.

This past semester, she had shot up several inches, giving her legs the slender look of a model. Her cut-off shorts only emphasized this fact. Her Hawaiian-esque button down should have been tacky, but she left the buttons undone, showing off her camisole underneath. A bathing suit top poked out from underneath it, accentuated her new curves. Compared to her, I felt like a little girl playing dress up.

While I struggled to coax the tangles out of my horrendous bedhead, Miyako gave me the rundown of the day. “Okay, so I was thinking we hit up Starbucks first. They have some new fruity lemonade that I’ve been dying to try, and I’m also kind of hungry.” As if to punctuate her statement, my own stomach growled, and I grinned sheepishly up at her. “Make that two of us,” I laughed.

She rambled on about sunbathing and beach volleyball, the metallic jingle of her bracelets accentuating every point. Miyako talked with her hands, making gestures large and small as if it would help the listener understand her better. Spoiler alert: it never did, but it was fun to watch all the same.

My hair finally tamed, I applied some light concealer, desperate to rid myself of the dark circles clinging underneath my eyes. “You know,” her jingling stops, “You really don’t need any makeup, Hika.”

I only snort in response; taking compliments has never been my forte. Grabbing my purse and phone, I slipped on a pair of sandals. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let’s rock and roll!”

-

As one could expect on the first weekend of summer vacation, Odaiba beach was cluttered with people. For mile it seemed the white sand was obscured by sunburnt bodies and an array of towels, but that was understandable.

The passing heat wave had been brutal. One could not go outside without sunscreen, lest risk getting sun poisoning. Within minutes, Miyako sucked her lemonade dry, settling on chewing the left-over ice. “Oh!” she squealed, bits of ice flinging about. “An empty spot, just over there!”

Years of running away from evil Digimon  looked like practice as we narrowly dodged the ample bodies of beach-goers. Arms linked together; our feet kicked up sand behind us as we ran. Just as we were about to secure our small area, a blue beach towel obscured the white sand.

I was panting too hard to notice Miyako’s eyes light up or the stranger’s shadow obscure the sun’s rays.

“Hey, guys! What are you two doing here?” a familiar voice asked, humor lifting at the end of his question. My breathing stopped mid-pant, silently cursing whatever deity that would listen. Once my heartbeat was under control, I managed to stand up straight. Raising a singular eyebrow, I challenged our guest. “Well, Takeru, the last time I checked, this beach is open to the public.”

His blonde hair reflected the sunshine, a soft, golden glow haloing around him. As if I needed any more reason to fall in love with him. He laughed in good nature, smiling a boyish, toothy grin.

“You took our spot.” Miyako pointed out, arms crossed over her chest. Wrinkles formed between her brows, her effort to look more menacing. A pair of heart-shaped sunglasses shielded her hazel eyes, and I almost giggled at the thought of her trying to look domineering while wearing something so innocent.

“Who says we all can’t share?” he countered; blues eyes illuminated by mischief. Never one to back down from a challenge, Miyako stood her ground, “I don’t think so.”

Anxiety clenched at my stomach. As of late, being in a close proximity to Takeru made me nervous, especially when he was shirtless with little rivets of water trailing their way down his abs. He was no longer the cute little eight-year-old that sat with me by the campfire. Years of basketball practice had solidified his athletic figure, and two summers ago, his growth spurt had him towering over his own brother. Seeing him in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks did not help my flushed state.

“It’ll be fine, Miyako. We can just squish our towel beside his.”  Rolling her eyes, she begrudgingly pulled out her Hello Kitty! themed towel, spreading it haphazardly on the ground. “Let’s just get in the water. That’s where all of the cute guys are, anyway.”

Takeru, for his part, pretended not to notice the hostility in her voice. He was as used to her moodiness as I was. Standing there awkwardly, he only made the move to leave as we began to strip down to our bikinis. “I should probably go find Ken and Daisuke. I’ll catch you both later,” he stammered, eyes intently focused on the granules of sand that had clung themselves to his hands.

Looking at each other, Miyako and I burst into a fit of giggles. She had a twinkle in her eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows in my direction. “No, absolutely not.” I deadpan, knowing exactly where this was about to go.

Her glossed bottom lip poked out, her attempt at a puppy-dog look. In my opinion, she looked more like a Kardashian, and when I told her exactly this, the lip was sucked right back in.

Though it was still pretty early, the sun was high in the sky. My cheeks were warm, and my shoulders had turned a light shade of pink. “We need to put some sunscreen on before we fry.”

“Nah, I’m good. I need to work on my tan anyway.” Miyako’s high-waisted bikini bottoms and halter bathing suit top suited her figure, the cornflower blue color complimenting the slight tan she had already developed. She raised an eyebrow at my pink one-piece, but I just shrugged. Shopping for a skimpy bathing suits had never been one of my priorities.

Neither of us felt comfortable oogling guys when our friends were here and apt to make fun of us, so the though of swimming was abandoned. I smeared sunblock on any bit exposed skin, using the technique a toddler would when icing a cake: all hands on deck.  

The pair of us sprawled out, Miyako’s body covering most of the cartoon cat. My pale legs claimed Takeru’s towel as my own. His blonde hair had disappeared in the throngs of beachgoers, and considering that he wasn’t the sunbathing type, I figured he wouldn’t complain.  

Rays of sunshine encapsulated me, and the muscles in my shoulders slowly unwound. Eyes closed, I only half-listened to surrounding conversation. A child begged his mother for ice cream while some teenaged girl made her move. A nearby volleyball game was in full swing, both teams shouting at one another. The summer air was stagnant, smelling of sunscreen, sweat, and salt.

We laid around, soaking in the sunshine and the freedom that came with summer vacation. Those last few weeks of school had been stressful. Between taking pictures for the school paper and studying for any upcoming exams, I had been ready to lose my mind. Takeru had also been acting strange, flip-flopping between avoiding me at all costs or never letting me out of his sight. It had all be so intense that I was grateful for Miyako’s distraction, even if it meant waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Psst.” I whispered. I rolled onto my side, doing my best to ignore the way iced coffee moved around in my belly. In our haste to get to the overcrowded seaside, we had forgone any breakfast, hoping that caffeine would be enough to fuel us throughout the day. The rumble in my stomach proved otherwise.

Miyako groaned, peeking at me through her ridiculously long lashes. Note to self: interrogate her about the brand of mascara she uses.

“Psst, Miyako.” She ignored me once again, opting to rotate like a rotisserie chicken.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go find food on my own.” I stood up, dusting invisible debris off of my legs. Sure enough, I had my friend’s full attention. Anything that involved eating always got her going. In a flurry of purple hair and sand, she was up on her feet, eyes searching for the nearest snack source. A laugh bubbled out of my throat. Miyako tended to do all things with a theatrical flair, making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.

Once, in middle school, we were both sentenced to lunch duty. Our job was simple: serve food to our peers. Dishing out food was easy; just ladle the mystery meat on a plate and voila! You were finished. It would have been simple enough, had we not had to wear hairnets and white smocks that made us look more like a middle-aged lunch lady than we ever wanted to. Miyako was never the type to wallow in self-pity. She ignored the looks of sympathy other girls gave us and found pleasure in the odd slurp sound the food made when hitting the trays. Soon, it became a competition of who could create the best squelch, testing out different flinging techniques until we were satisfied. By then end of lunch period, our smocks were littered with oil stain, and our cheeks were sore from smiling.

Miyako channeled her inner lunch lady food-flinging abilities as she practically pushed innocent bystanders out of her way. God help those who stood between Miyako and, well, whatever it was that she wanted. Her ponytail navigated through the crowd, giving me no choice but to follow. Her legs lead us to a slushie cart, manned by a woman who was all smiles and sticky syrup. It might not have been solid food, but I wouldn’t deny myself a sugar high.

A small line had already formed, several children tugging on their parents’ sleeves. My bathing suit clung to my skin uncomfortably. I tried to shift in place, but the air was thick with heat. Aside from seeing my childhood crush half-naked, waking up early hadn’t been the best idea. The sun was high in the sky, my morning shadow disappearing.

The line moved quickly, and before long, the pair of us stood at the front, pondering our choices. Finger resting on her lip in faux-concentration, Miyako made a show of deciding on a flavor “Could I have a mix of wild cherry and blue raspberry, please?”  

“Why pretend to chose when you get the same thing every time?” As a woman of few pleasures, I found a great joy in calling Miyako out. Her flush of embarrassment was a rare sight.  Turning towards the employee, I order the first flavor to have ‘strawberry’ in its name.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves walking along the shoreline. The waves lapped at our bare feet and we slurped on our slushies, rambling on about anything that came to mind.

“You know,” I said, disrupting the natural lull of conversation, “The last time I drank a slushie like this was before I even met you.”

By now, Miyako’s slushie had melted into a dark purple, the last remnants of red dye staining her lips. “But slushies are, like, a summer staple. What’s up with that?”

I twirled my straw around, savoring the last bits of pink ice that had collected on the bottom of my cup. “Well, my brother would probably make fun of me. He already gives me a hard-enough time about my ice cream addiction; he says sweet things are for children.” Switching voices, I lowered my pitch and curled my arms, much like an ape would at the zoo. In a horrible attempt at mocking my brother, I continued, “ ‘Hikari, sweets bad, protein good. Eat more meat.’”

I took a few more steps before I realized she was no longer beside me. Turning around, I barely had time to register the shocked look on her features before she cried out: “Slushies are not just for kids! Fuck him!” Apparently, my friend took summer treats very seriously. 

If her passionate outburst hadn’t of attracted attention, her colorful language sure did. Quickly, I grabbed her arm, hastily pulling her towards our belongings. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I attempted to dodge the gazes of judgmental bystanders. “Miyako, you can’t just say things like that,” I whispered to her, clenched teeth giving my tone a pinched quality.

“C’mon,” I thrusted her towel into her arms, “let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”

Pulling on her shorts, she cast me a sideways glance. “I’m sorry, Hika, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sighing, I held both of her hands between mine. “You said what you did because you care about me, and I can’t fault you for that.” I gathered up the rest of my own belongings before continuing. “Besides, you forgot to feed me today. I’m thinking we get some McDonald’s. Your treat?”

She laughed, hands now busying themselves with her shirt. “Isn’t McDonald’s for kids?”

Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I turned around and winked. “Fuck society.”

[venusofthehardsells]

Dreamgirl [part 2]

ReaderxBucky Barnes [Part 1] Summary: Bucky tries to adjust to his new life in the Avengers compound. One day he meets a girl who might be everything he needs in order to move on, but is his past really that far away? Warnings for this chapter: none, a bit of flirting (general series warnings include noncon, violence, mental illness, feels probably) A/N: Wow, I can’t believe the all the love chapter one of this story got! Thank you so much! ♥ I hope you will like this one as well. It’s the last “fluffy” chapter before things start to get chaotic dark, so you can all still jump ship if it’s not your thing. Extra special thanks to @cake-writes for beta-reading this for me! You’re the best ♥ Let me know what you think ~

Bucky can tell she recognises him from the way her face lights up in a perfectly glowing smile. "Hi," she beams at him. She is wearing makeup now, lips perfectly painted and eyes expertly defined with mascara and shadows. Her hair is no longer the unruly bedhead she had sported in the park earlier. In fact, she looks thoroughly put together, and pretty in an entirely different way. This type of beauty is right in his face, shining out harshly through her lipstick and wide, practised smile. "Hi," is all he manages to answer, but he quickly follows it up with a smile of his own. "Thank you for, you know, before," she says and he can practically feel the heat radiating off her face. Or is it his own? Shit. "Oh, it was... it's no problem," he answers, somehow sounding more casual and confident than he feels. "Well, it would have been if I'd lost them, so... thank you. Really." There is a change in her face that makes him want to heave for breath. She is still smiling, but it is as if the overly honeyed, slightly aggressive customer service mask vanishes. Bucky imagines that this smile is somehow more... her own.

"Anytime," he manages with a weak imitation of his confident pre-war smirk, but it seems to do the trick because she chuckles and looks down nervously. His superhuman hearing picks up on the fact that her heart is racing in her chest and it makes his own body an all too heated place to be all of a sudden. "So…" She bites her lip and he doesn't know if it's intentional, doesn't care, because all he can suddenly think about is if that mouth tastes as sweet as it looks. "What can I get you, Mr...?" Bucky has to swallow thickly before he can even think of anything to say that doesn't include all the inappropriate images that are now parading through his mind. "Bu-James," he quickly amends. It feels right to give her his old name. His legal name. It's not as heavy as the nickname he has borne all his life, the one loaded with guilt and horrors enough to make anyone lose sleep. "It's James. And I'll have a black coffee, please." She laughs again, as if that's exactly what she expected him to order. "To stay or to-go?" There is a hopeful edge lining her words and Bucky swears he hears her heart stop for just a second. A smile he has absolutely no control over falls onto his lips. "Haven't got any plans this morning, might as well sit down." It's a lie, but he is pretty sure Steve will forgive him for skipping their morning workout this once. He will have to. "All right James, black coffee to stay coming right up." “Hey, uhm… what’s your name?” He feels warm all over and he's sure it's not because of his sweatshirt. She tells him and he repeats the name, slowly, carefully, savouring the feel of it in his mouth. When he takes out his wallet to pay for the coffee, she shakes her head at him. "On the house." She winks before turning around to get the coffee maker going and Bucky can't help but be just a little bit relieved, seeing as all the blood in his body is divided between his face and his crotch. The way her work-trousers hug her ass doesn't help. He can't remember the last time another person made him feel this way. It's uncomfortable and disorientating and exhilarating all at the same time. A part of him, a huge part in fact, tells him to get out now and hope he never sees her again. The last seventy years of his life have taught him how precious control is, in any situation. It is what kept him alive through decades of firefights and infiltrations and other covert missions for HYDRA. And right now, looking at the cute barista, he doesn't feel very much in control at all. Bucky mentally kicks himself and gets his face back in order before she turns back around. He didn't have any control in the claws of HYDRA. He wasn't even human for all those years, just a weapon, a tool... an asset. A mindless thing created by a ruthless organisation, walking around in the shell of a dead man, whose own life was over in the blink of an eye. The Asset controlled him, but Bucky Barnes has probably never had as much control in his life as he currently has. And now that he's officially back from the dead, he just wants something that makes sense. Not unlike his time in Wakanda. Even though goat-farming with one arm had its disadvantages, it was still the closest thing to peace he remembers feeling post-enlistment. There are not a lot of goats in New York, but something else could surely make him feel the same way and he doesn’t mind. It's not as if he ever really got to try ‘normal’ back before it all went to hell. Steve might have left those kinds of wishes behind in the ice if he ever really had them in the first place (Bucky is beginning to think there is only ever gonna be the next fight or the next mission when it comes to his old friend), but Bucky can't give up the hope that now that he has been given this second chance, there might somehow be a life for him here. A life, a job, a home, happiness - and someone to share it all with. “Here you go, James.” Her voice shakes him out of his thoughts. “Thanks, doll.” He makes sure to softly brush his fingers against hers when he takes the cup she holds out to him, lets his touch linger for just a second longer than necessary. She swallows when the cup and its warmth is out of reach along with his hand and he realises that she has been holding her breath. He shoots her another crooked half-smile now that he’s sure he’s affecting her too and he has to fight back a moan, because the faintest trace of arousal finds its way to him in the mix of coffee and floral perfume. She’s wet for him. The knowledge makes his cock twitch and he’s infinitely grateful for the counter separating them. His loose sweatpants don’t hide much. God, he wants to lean over, bury his face in her neck, take a long, deep breath of her scent. It’s maddening. He takes a sip of the coffee and licks his lips a little, slowly, deliberately, without breaking eye contact with her. Her sweet smile is still in place, but he might as well have licked her cunt with the way her composure stiffens and he can tell she is rubbing her thighs together behind the safety of the counter. “Damn, you make a mean cup of coffee.” Bucky mostly says it to have a reason not to sit down, just to keep talking to her and she doesn’t seem to mind the least. “I suppose the last few months haven’t been a complete waste then,” she chuckles. Despite it being morning, peak time, they’re still the only two people in the coffee shop. Normally, it means Bucky doesn’t have to suffer through standing in line and waiting through another ten orders, and he likes that, but today it means he can linger by the till and play the part of the man he used to be so many years ago. Even if it isn’t really him anymore, just pretending not to have a care in the world feels good. “How come I haven’t seen you here before?,” he asks lightly, taking another sip of coffee. He likes to think he would have noticed her before or at least remember her now if she had served him coffee in the past. “Do you usually come in around this time?” He nods. “One of my colleagues had to go home rather urgently yesterday. Something about a family crisis; I don’t think he’s coming back. My manager asked me if I could take his shifts and I couldn’t really afford to turn down the extra hours. So here I am I suppose,” she says with a laugh. “Making coffee full time in a second-rate chain-café.” She sighs for dramatic effect. “What am I supposed to do during the weekend then? If I need a good morning coffee, that is,” Bucky adds with a chuckle and he can feel himself blush again, but he’s getting used to the sensation. And it’s worth it, he thinks smugly, when he hears her sharp intake of breath. Oh, how he’s missed this. “Well, I… I might find myself near the park sometime Saturday morning. And if I happened to be in the right mood, it’s possible that maybe I’d bring coffee enough for two…,” she trails off, biting her lip and he wants nothing more than to bite it for her, to suck on that perfectly shaped bottom lip of hers that she’s so infuriatingly flaunting in front of him. “It would be a lucky coincidence then, if I were to run through that very park on Saturday morning, too. Maybe around eight…” It’s later than his usual routine, but he figures it would be pushing his luck to ask her to meet him any earlier on her day off. “It certainly would. I really hope I can be persuaded to go.” “Oh, I can be very persuasive, doll…” There it is again, that scent of arousal gathering beneath her skirt and the sound of her heart beating a million miles a minute. “I’m counting on it.” Her own boldness seems to surprise her and he can tell she is about to blabber something about not usually being so forward or, god forbid it, maybe even an apology, but the bell above the door chimes just then and her gaze jerks towards the two newly arrived customers, a pair of women in workout clothes. “Persuasion will have to wait, it seems,” he smirks and leaves the counter to sit down with his cup of coffee while she takes the orders from the two women, one of whom Bucky actually recognises as the hot blonde who sometimes walks her dog around the area in the mornings. He studies her discreetly over the edge of the coffee cup. She is still undeniably attractive, but he quickly finds that her face eludes him the moment he closes his eyes. What remains to him though, are the sparkling eyes and contagious smile of the barista. The way she bit her lip, looking up at him through her mascara-coated lashes, has him completely forgetting the taste of the coffee. He is so distracted by the thought of her that he doesn’t notice his phone until the second ring. The device almost slips from his hand as he stubbornly fumbles it from the pocket of his sweatshirt with his flesh hand, never lifting his metal fingers from the safety of his pocket. “Hello?,” he asks quietly. “Hey Buck. I was just wondering where you were,” comes Steve’s voice, carefully adjusted to sound casual. Bucky almost groans at his friend’s tone. Steve is only trying to show that he cares, he knows that, but he can’t shake the feeling that America’s golden boy is turning into a helicopter parent when it comes to him. “Just getting coffee,” Bucky mumbles guiltily. He knows Stark has a tracker in both his phone and his arm, hell, Stark probably has trackers sewn into Bucky’s clothes just to be on the safe side, so it’s not like Steve doesn’t actually know where he is. “I… I needed more time today. Sorry.” “Oh. Bad night?” Bucky is half a breath away from kicking the table through a window. He only trusts Steve to wake him up when his nightmares get unbearable, no one else. He almost sent Wanda flying into the next hallway once when she heard him cry out in the night and came in to check on him. If it hadn’t been for her powers, his metal arm would have broken all of her ribs when he lunged at her still half asleep. He still feels bad about it whenever he sees her. With Steve, however, it is as if his sleeping mind can sense who enters his room. His is the only comforting face Bucky knows and he’s grateful to have someone around who takes all of his issues in stride. The only problem is Steve’s damn saviour complex, that he thinks everything is his fault and thus, his responsibility. “Could’ve been worse,” Bucky answers reluctantly. An outright lie is not the way to go about it. “Sorry I wasn’t there, pal. I didn’t hear you.” “’s fine.” He wants nothing more than to shrug it off and hang up. “I’m fine. But I, uhm… took longer than I thought. Think I’ll have to skip the morning routine.” “Bucky…” There is a pause on the line that Bucky doesn’t like; his hand curls into a fist in his pocket. “It’s almost noon. You’ve been gone all morning, Tony’s gonna freak if you miss the briefing and you know…” The rest of Steve’s words is a distant mutter that drifts further and further away as he slowly places the phone on the table not to drop it. His fingers are shaking. His entire arm, hell, his entire body is shaking. There is no way it could have been later than seven or eight when he came into the coffee shop. He risks a glance at the clock on the wall. 11.45. Where did all that time go?

[TRANSMISSION] ALHABOR: MADE CONTACT WITH THE ASSET. DOESN’T SUSPECT ME ORION: WHAT OF THE SEQUENCE? ALHABOR: SAFEWORDS SEEMINGLY INTACT. FURTHER TESTING NEEDED ORION: I WANT DAILY REPORTS ALHABOR: UNDERSTOOD ORION: HAIL HYDRA ALHABOR: HAIL HYDRA

Tags will be added in reblog

[sadwsocc]

Kenma x Reader soulmate au

an au where whatever they wrote/ drew on their skin would show up on their soulmates skin too

word count: 3,473 words

genre: fluff??? idk

a/n: i really liked writing this one because kenma is actually my fav lmao but i think i wrote his name too many times so it might be a tad bit weird

Kenma was partially annoyed by how often his soulmate would doodle on their body, more specifically their left hand and knees, yes, knees. And he would be annoyed by the amount of questions he got from his teammates about the doodles on his body whenever they had practice. there were always a bunch of stars tethered on his knees in colourful ink (mostly green, purple, black and blue) Whoever his soulmate was, he was definitely annoyed yet intrigued by them.

Kenma didn't know why his soulmate would be up at 2 in the morning while he was playing video games but during those times, a bunch of smiley faces and random doodles would appear. yet, Kenma never made an effort to do make it known that he knew those doodles were there as they would rub it off after awhile. Kenma had no intentions of contacting his soulmate anytime soon.

That was until one fateful midnight, he noticed that there wasn't any doodles appearing on his skin, he assumed his soulmate fell asleep, finally. he decided it would be fun if he took initiative and doodles something, pausing his game he went over to his desk and grabbed a pen.

right when the tip of his pen was about to touch on Kenma's skin, it stopped. Kenma thought long and hard about what to draw or write since he didn't think he could be par with his soulmates clean and neat doodles. deciding on writing a small message, he proceeded to write on his forearm "took you long enough to sleep". he hoped that he would get a reply by morning when she awoke but to his surprise, a new message popped up on his right knee, "im not asleep yet".

"oh" he spoke aloud even though there wasn't anyone in his room. grabbing his pen, he wrote again, "oh". 'Very original' he thought to himself. he waited for a few moments and got an answer back on his other knee, "hi" beside it was a smiley face. Kenma was surprised that he would finally get to have a proper chat with his soulmate... at two in the morning— on a school night. Kenma thought about what to reply to her, 'a simple "hello" would be enough' he thought, which was what he wrote below the 'hi' his soulmate wrote.

moments later his soulmate wrote back with three dots, not knowing what else to write to him and continued, "sorry for the constant doodles—i get bored easily". Kenma sighed, at least his soulmate was self aware. he replied with "its fine", to which a smiley face was drawn again by his soulmate as a reply. that was the end of their little rendezvous, life continued onwards. the two of them made no effort to try to find each other, the doodles were still constant, the weird little notes that appeared on Kenmas palm sometimes would still be present, it was as if their short lived chat never occurred.

———

(y/n) liked to draw. a lot.

whenever you saw a piece of paper that was blank, you'd fill it up with doodles and drawings and when there were no paper in sight you would result in drawing on your own skin or your friend's. your friends didn't mind, nor did their soulmates as they all knew the only person who would draw such things was you, if they ever saw stars appear or little cat doodles or just basic characters from shows you had watched, they would know it was you. it was a known fact.

your skin would never be blank, ever. there would always be that one smiley face or that one random quote that would be hidden somewhere that was noticeable. it was fun for you.

you always wondered when you'd meet your soulmate, your friends all met theirs, mainly through telling them their names and what school they went to, it was— as you liked to call it— the easy way out. a good example of that would be your friend, Kaori, she found her soulmate when she wrote her identity and her phone number on her forearm last year, which was also the two of your first year at Nekoma High. Turns out, her soulmate was some kid named Kuroo that was a year older than the two of you. you had met him like once or ten-no-twenty times when he visited you and Kaori's class, his bedhead had never gone unnoticed to you, in fact it left quite an imprint on you, it was just too... unnatural.

from what you heard the way Kaori found Kuroo was when she told you that she once wrote on her hand that she would be going to Nekoma High, which she knew that her soulmate would be there (they keep in touch through writing i guess) and from then on they would write to each other profusely.

the first day of school and you had saw her anxiously walking around trying to find some dude that was drawn on her hand by her soulmate (it didn't look that good and you could hardly tell it was even a person at all until she stated it to you knowingly). you snickered as she tried to tell you how she thinks it's sweet and thought how her soulmate would go as far as to draw a 'self portrait' for her to find him.

you were in awe when a tall dude with hair that kinda fitted the drawing on Kaori's palm showed up and introduced himself to her, they were blushing and all. you remembered seeing a boy with rather long black hair (first year Kenma didn't have pudding hair, author checked) shielding himself behind Kuroo. you paid no mind to him, of course, you weren't really going to school to make friends.

back to present, it was two in the morning and you were up all night reading, what exactly? we don't talk about that. well, you were reading until you felt someone writing something on your hands and saw a few words written on your hand. one led to another but eventually nothing really happened so you never mentioned it to anyone.

———

weeks after that little midnight incident, one day, Kaori dragged you to your school's volleyball gym —you didn't even know your school had volleyball much less a club— to accompany her visiting her boyfriend, Kuroo.

before she started dragging you, you were writing down your day's to-do list intently. Kaori's green pen that you were using to write down on your palm was suddenly dragged out, ruining you beautiful to-do list. you grunted and sighed, clicking the pen to put it in you pockets as she took you hand and hooked it to hers, forcing you to go along with her rendezvous.

Kaori pulled the gym door opened and there stood about a dozen boys in gym clothes staring at the two of you. they all greeted Kaori but not to you as you didn't know any of them, sure you've heard Kaori talk about them here and there, but most conversations about them were about Kuroo.

Kaori promptly introduced you to the volleyball team, "hey guys, this is (y/n), i dragged her along because i wanted you guys to see her drawings that i mentioned before." this earned a stare from you to your cheery friend and you finally spoke, "since when did i agree to this?". Kaori looked at you and simply said, "when i was dragging you here" with a smile.

you sighed and handed her your sketchbook which was inside your school bag. she thanked you and then went over to the crowd of boys who were intrigued by you sketchbook, leaving you on the side.

———

a little before this, while (y/n) was being dragged by Kaori to the gym:

Kenma felt a little tingly feeling from his palm again and assumed that his soulmate started writing something, he looked at his palm and saw a little to do list being written only for it to be ruined by a sudden line being dragged across. confusion arose from the pudding head as his bed headed friend took notice and glanced at his palm.

a little idea popped into Kuroo's mind as he thought about the only person he knew would have that kind of handwriting and would use that type of green pens. he knew for one that his girlfriend always complained about her pens being taken from her by her (h/c) haired friend and knew what (y/n)'s handwriting would be like from the constant borrowing of her notebooks from his girlfriend. Kuroo always has a fleeting suspicion but it never occurred to him that he would notify Kenma.

He also knew that Kenma had a slight interest on the (e/c) eyed girl from the one or two times he saw him glance at her during lunch or walking in the halls, Kuroo also somehow never mentioned that he knew the girl and the thought just kinda slipped through his mind.

"what's with the weird to do list?" Kuroo finally spoke earning a nonchalant glance from Kenma. "i don't know" Kenma said with a slight confused tone. Kuroo thought about how his girlfriend would be dragging her friend here to show off her friends talents to the team and how his girlfriend would drag people by the hand and the dots started connecting.

———

You were left alone while your sketchbook was being the star of the show resulting in you sitting on the sides next to a boy with overgrown blond hair. It was Kenma, the boy you saw on your first day of school and in the halls and everywhere. you constantly thought about him, though you don't know why. Perhaps it was his slightly long hair? Or the way he looked whenever you saw him playing on his handheld gaming console. He always intrigued you and you thought he was quite cute, whenever you walked pass his class or saw him in the halls your heartbeat sped up. Or could it be the soulmate attraction thing you heard rumours about? Part of you hoped he would be your soulmate but the other felt bad if he was due to your constant drawings on your skin.

The two of you were sitting with your legs close to your chests. You felt yourself becoming a bit jittery and anxious from sitting next to the boy you always thought about. Finally, throwing your dignity out of the window you asked, "Why aren't you going over there like the rest of your teammates?". He finally looked at you and said, " I don't like crowds." You gave him a soft smile, nodded and replied, "me neither". you didn't like crowds, you tended to stay away from them, sometimes avoiding them at all costs.

You realised it would be odd if someone you didn't know suddenly came in to the gym, sat down and started talking you so you promptly introduced yourself. "hi... I'm (y/n), (l/n) (y/n)." you paused thinking about what to say next and then continuing, "Kaori's friend" pointing to the energetic and cheerful girl over with the rest of the volleyball team.

Kenma looked at you for a few seconds longer and you started overthinking, 'What if he thinks you're weird?' 'What if he hates you?' 'Why would he hate you?'. You started a debate with yourself as he finally spoke, "Kenma, Kozume Kenma..."

Of course you knew his name already but it would make you sound like a stalker if you said something like, "I'm (y/n)! And you, sir, are Kozume Kenma, Kuroo's friend and a second year setter, whatever a setter is!" you didn't know much about volleyball but your friend told you about the boys volleyball team once and you ought to remember a few roles.

You glanced over to the game he was playing and immediately recognised the art style of the game. Your eyes lit up and blurted out, "hey! isn't that MonHun?" Kenma looked at you with a bewildered expression, "Yes... do you play it too?" he asked in a soft and quiet tone. You grinned and put your left hand on the nape of your neck, awkwardly rubbing it, "ah, umm... no... sorry. I just know a lot about games and I suck at it too to be honest."

Kenma looked at your for a second and went back to his game as you continued to look at his console. Little did you know, the two of your friends were silently gushing about how adorable and shy and awkward you and Kenma were being. One might not know if they weren't close to Kenma but Kuroo knew on an instant that Kenma was actually freaking out on the inside, to an outsider his attitude might not seem to change but to Kuroo, even the slightest difference was noticeable to him. Kenma seemed a bit giddy, his hand movements were quickened, more unstable as if he was panicking —which he was.

With a smirk playing on the bed headed teen's lips, he nudged Kaori with his elbows gently, "how long do you think they'll realise?" Kaori too had a fleeting suspicion about the two of you and now she was almost a hundred percent sure that her suspicions were confirmed. She stared at the two of you and pondered for awhile, with her right hand on her chin she said, "an hour?" Kuroo laughed a bit and ruffled his girlfriends hair, "you're so adorable." This made her blush profusely. Kaori then inquired, "should we tell them?" "Nah"

You realised that the team was taking a bit too long on admiring your sketchbook, you started to wonder if they were still absorbed in your art or they simply acted like they forgot they had practice. Making a small huff, you turned to look at Kenma again, staring intently in his game, he was on level 37. You heard the game was quite hard, you always wanted to play them but due to the fact that you inevitably sucked at it, you never bothered.

Minutes later, boredom got the best of you and you finally decided to ask, "Hey Kenma-san, can I borrow your console?"

"... after this level" he replied. Kuroo stared in awe as he saw you achieve something he was never able to —borrow Kenma's games whilst he was in the middle of a level. The third year captain was so proud of his friend's character development that he nearly teared up, whispering , "he grows up so fast" to Kaori, to which she giggled to.

After Kenma had beaten that level he handed it to you, setting his game level to the very first one. You awkwardly took it and stared fumbling with the controls. "I think I know how to play this" You said, "it's just dodging and attacking, right?" You rhetorically asked.

"Essentially, yeah" Kenma replied. Your heartbeat quickened and you suddenly felt awkward. A few button smashes and frantically waving the console around, you surprisingly passed level 1. You gave Kenma back his gaming console and raised up both your hands to celebrate beating the first level, you weren't expecting to actually win it, you were used to losing and being killed off. Kenma smiled at your cheery sight.

"High five, Kenma-san!" You said enthusiastically. Holding out both your hands towards him and waited for him to return your high five. Pausing his game and looking up from his console, he saw what you had written on your palm. Wide eyed, Kenma raised his hands to high five you, realising that you had the same green ink on your palm. You were too busy celebrating your victory you didn't bother to realise that he too had what you written on you palm. Putting down your hands, you saw that Kenma was still holding his out, you stared at him and then to his palm. It was then realisation hit you.

You lifted up your palm and stared into your hand and then to his, repeating this gesture for a sold three times before one of you spoke out.

"Are you-?" You asked, not bothering to finish your question. You quickly stood up and patted down the invisible dirt and wrinkles on your skirt and ushered him to wait as you ran over to your bag and grabbed out a baby blue pen you 'borrowed' from Kaori and went back over to Kenma. You turned over to show your wrist and started doodling a simple tulip on your wrist, Kenma in turn, turned around his arm and saw that he too had a baby blue inked tulip on his wrist.

Dropping the pen, you both stared at each other intently. "You're my soulmate" you both said quietly in unison. You let out a sigh of relief and immediately thought about the amount of times you've drawn on yourself.

"I'm- uh, sorry for the constant doodles, I get bored easily" you said meekly, covering your mouth with the collar of your shirt to hide the blush that was starting to appear on your cheeks. You smiled at you and told you that he rather enjoyed them and wouldn't mind if you continued to do so.

Kuroo and Kaori high fives each other as the other teammates were finally done looking at your sketchbook. They were now all looking at the two of you quietly sitting next to each other, cheeks tainted pink.

"What's up with Kenma-san?" Lev asked Kuroo. Kuroo smiled and told him, "he found his soulmate." Lev perked up and went over to where Kenma was and shook his hands to congratulate his senpai. "Kenma-san, congratulations! Today must be your lucky day! Your soulmate is very pretty and so are her drawings! You should look at them too!" As he said the last few parts, Lev looked at you. You gave him a shy smile with a faint blush and looked away, over to your short friend, you knew she was the one who had set this up indirectly.

After the whole ordeal, the two of you exchanged emails and talked about little things that had no meaning to it. You felt butterflies in your stomach the whole chat. He decided he would walk you back home along with Kuroo and Kaori, you assured him you would be fine but he insisted that his house was not far from yours so it was nothing.

"You know, Kenma-san, I kind of always liked you, even if you might've not been my soulmate," you said quietly while the four of you were walking back. You and Kenma walked as a pair while your friends walked behind the two of you at an excruciatingly slow pace which made the two of you decide to walk ahead of them.

Part of you hoped that he didn't listen as it would be rather embarrassing by the other half wanted him to know how much you love him as cheesy as it sounds. He heard it and stared down on the pavement you were walking on as did you. The two of you were so awkward together it was just too sweet. "Me too" he returned you a tone as soft and as quiet as yours.

"Do you think I can go over to your house someday, I kinda wanna play those games of yours" you voiced our in a shy tone. Kenma's eyes widen as he stared at you, thinking.

"Yeah".

The doodles never stopped from then on, maybe it even multiplied but Kenma didn't mind. He would sometimes show it to Kuroo and tell him thing like "Look what (y/n) drew," with hints of interest in his voice. It was absolutely adorable every time the two of you walked back home talking about your day. Somedays you would even stay over at his home and play his games, yet you still inevitably sucked.

[random-imagines-blog]

Lights Out {Ethan Hunt Oneshot}

This is a special-edition personalized oneshot for @justyouraveragefangirl1967

Wordcount: 2476 Summary: Ethan’s wife finds something strange in his office. After putting some pieces together, she begins to take a self-defense class in case his life is more dangerous than he makes it seem. Those come in handy one night.

It seemed as though Holly lived in a world where most people expected it to be bleak and dark, but it was filled with sunshine and the most perfect temperatures. Everything could be a bit much sometimes, but when one had disabilities the way that she did, it was all the more tough - but she got through it with a smile on her face. Why? Because she had an extremely handsome, generous, funny man by her side who boosted up her confidence every morning when he rolled over in bed, ran his fingers through her bedhead hair, and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he got out of bed. Others tended to see what was ‘wrong’ with her, while Ethan Hunt saw the beauty that was the sparkle in her blue eyes, the way that she smiled, and the way that she never let anything stop her from achieving her goals of becoming a writer - though she was still just aspiring at this point. He was her number one fan, always and forever - which is exactly what he had promised her when he had slipped the engagement ring onto her finger one romantic afternoon.

However, there was no kiss this morning, since Ethan had been called away for a work trip. Things were usually quiet around the house, since she was hearing-impaired and tended to keep things like the radio and television off when she wasn’t using them, but when Ethan was gone? Even the silence that she had grown accustomed to was louder than the house when he wasn’t in it. Her mind had conjured up music of its own when Ethan entered a room, created ambiance to the smiles and the frowns, to the laughter and the smooth way that he did things. Holly had accepted a quiet life, but she was missing the sound of Ethan’s smile right about now.

After her morning tea - which was a struggle because Ethan sometimes teasingly put the teabags higher up than her 4‘9 figure could reach, and he had forgotten to bring them down - she looked at the muggy day outside and knew immediately what she was going to do. Groceries were bought, the house was clean - she had no excuses except to boot up her laptop and put some effort into her works in progress.

Her own office felt rather ... lonely, at the moment. The walls did have pictures of her loved ones, including quite a few of Ethan himself, but she wanted something more. She wanted to feel his presence around her completely. And that was why she decided that she was going to work in his office instead, since he wouldn’t be at home to catch her doing so. It felt so taboo to be going into his personal space. It wasn’t locked, but Holly still felt a bit of unease at being there alone.

Ethan’s desk was meticulously clean, with only a couple of stationary things upon it. He had taken his laptop to work, which made sense - it was the only thing that he was secretive about, but Holly never pried. His business was his business, just as yours was yours. She set her laptop up in the space that his usually occupied, opened it up, sat down in his seat, and started to tap at the keys, making words flow on the white screen.

An hour passed before she decided that it was a good time for a break. She leaned back in the seat, looking at the room that she had so seldom been in. Shelves lined the walls, the window looked out into the beautiful backyard where the sun was shining, and there was a photo of the two of you hanging on the wall, which was the only decoration in the place. She got out of the chair and went to look at the books that were on the shelves, wondering if there was something that may interest her.

After squinting at the titles for a moment, she saw that a couple of the books had a thin layer of dust on them. Despite knowing that cleaning them would mean that Ethan might catch on to the fact that she was in here, she couldn’t help herself from taking a tissue and lightly sweeping it over the books. She must have gone a little harder than she had intentioned, for one book was pushed back, smashing it’s pages against the back wall. She winced and tried to reach it to push it back up to place, but her fingers found a strange button on the wood rather than the pages. At first, she thought it must just be a knot in the wood, but she pressed down on it and heard a clicking noise from the other side of the room.

Having read stories about old houses with hidden rooms, Holly’s heart started to beat quickly in her chest in anticipation of what she might find. A secret library with expensive books that Ethan might have gotten from his travels? Or even better, a thought that made her blush, a pleasure room? As she turned around, she found herself to be disappointed for what was exposed was not a room, but rather a panel in the wall that had once held a painting and a mirror. What was there now was a metallic space, lit up by little white lights, showing off something you did not expect in the slightest.

Guns.

Holly didn’t know much about weapons other than a bit of light research that she had done for a story some time back. But she could identify a shotgun, and a couple of handguns. She didn’t dare touch anything, but rather stared with a slightly open mouth. She fell back into her seat, thinking about why the guns would be there. Thinking over the past, she started to realize that perhaps she didn’t know Ethan as well as she had thought that he had.

-

When Ethan returned home, everything was back the way that it was, save for the missing dust on one of his book jackets. If he had noticed that, he didn’t say anything about it. Holly’s laptop was safely back where it should be, and she worked on your writing while waiting for him to shower and come see her.

‘Hello beautiful,’ Ethan signed once he had Holly’s attention. She looked up at him, caught the sign, and gave him a wide smile.

“Welcome home,” She said aloud. He thanked her and took his usual spot on the sofa, with his arm around her shoulders. The t-shirt that he was wearing stuck onto his still damp body, and his growing hair was starting to hang in his eyes. She looked at him lovingly, and tucked herself into his side, nuzzling to show that she had missed him. After she had found the weapon cache, she decided that she wasn’t going to tell Ethan that she had found it. Or that she had figured out what was going on in his life. He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it absent-mindedly as he paid attention to what was going on in the news. He seemed to be looking for something, a story in particular. Once the headlines were through, and the more fluffy pieces and weather came on, he clicked off the television, with relief in his eyes that Holly could see a mile away. She may not have known what Ethan did exactly, but she could read his face better than anyone.

‘I think I’m going to order us dinner tonight.’ Ethan signed to Holly once the TV had returned to the black screen it tended to be when he wasn’t home. ‘And we can go out for dinner tomorrow.’

“I’m busy.” Holly said, taking Ethan by surprise. “How about a late dinner?”

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

“Just taking a class down at the community center,” Holly said with a smile. Before Ethan could ask any more questions, she stopped him with a kiss and went into the kitchen to look at takeout menus and decide what to have for dinner.

-

For a while, just because of Ethan’s job and any dangers that he might bring home because of it, Holly had gone to self defense classes. It was tough to start the habit, considering she only had one good leg, but she found that she enjoyed it. What wasn’t fun about it though, was that she had to evade Ethan’s questions about it. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep it a secret from him because she felt that she had to hide it. It was because she knew that he would worry for her, and insist that he could take care of her himself.

In the times that she had gone to the gym, she had gotten good. Actually, she had gotten pretty damn good. It brought along a confidence that she hadn’t had in a very long time. She came home each evening with a smile on her face, and ran herself a bubble bath so that Ethan could join her - which he was usually more than happy to do. She also felt more comfortable on her own when he went out on his ‘work trips’. It was a nice feeling, knowing she could hold her own, at least somewhat.

But unfortunately, that was going to be tested sooner rather than the never that she was hoping for.

It was late one night when Ethan had gone out to ‘have some drinks with the boys’, whatever that had meant. Holly didn’t question it, she just gave him a damn good kiss that he could taste on his lips until he had something to drink, told him to call a cab if he drank too much, and then settled in for a night alone. It wasn’t that she was lonely either, she liked having some time to herself, though she did spent it often worrying about Ethan and whatever it was that he was truly doing. She still didn’t ask him what that was, or accuse him, because she was smart enough to know that the secrecy was for her own benefit.

Only the lamp next to the sofa was on, and her laptop was balanced on her lap and she was tapping away at what she hoped would be the best breakthrough novel in the world. It was good to have dreams, and even better when she had someone by her side who believed that she could do it. The TV was off, there was no music on, and the only sound that was going on was the tapping of the keyboard as she plucked the words straight out of her mind and put them on the white screen.

She felt that something was wrong before she could see any sign of it. A tingling sensation, the hair on her arms standing up on end. Something was not right. She could sense that there was someone in her home - and since she could see the front door from where she was sitting, they were not someone who should be here because they didn’t come from there.

She moved the laptop from her her lap, saving her work quickly and closing it, then tucked it under a pillow so it wouldn’t get stolen. Or destroyed - both were horrible concepts. She wished she knew what she was facing. This could be a common burglar, a murderer, someone who was after information about Ethan, it could even be someone who wanted to come in and steal all of her book ideas! Okay, the last one wasn’t likely but the other three? Too much so.

Despite the self-defense classes, she didn’t know much about working with weapons. But it seemed a much better idea to protect herself with one of Ethan’s guns and her knowledge of self defense rather than just hope that these guys didn’t have weapons of their own.

Holly couldn’t hear where they were, and her seeing was also not the greatest, so she couldn’t look for shadows. But what she did have were her own senses, and they had never let her down before. She crawled onto the floor in front of the couch, and felt the floors of her home. She could feel the pressure of the footfalls. Great, she thought, there were at least three of them that she could tell. Her hand curled into a fist - she was not about to hide herself, this was her house dammit!

The first of the men came into the room, clad in black. The second followed behind with a gun in his hands, checking to see if the coast was clear. Holly didn’t breathe, didn’t let herself think about what she was about to do. She went through the motions, running on pure adrenaline. With her good leg, she kicked the gunman in the groin, making him bend over, but unfortunately, not drop the gun. The two men were startled by her attack, but the third had time to see what was going on in front of him, and brought out a rather menacing knife. Like an angry pirate in a film, he was blindly slashing, getting nothing more than Holly’s hoodie with the blade, lucky for her. They must not have been expecting anyone to be home, let alone her.

Since she had already gone for the groin of one of the men, they would certainly be anticipating for her to go for that again. As she raised her foot, the man pulled his hips backwards to be out of her range, but she went for the knee instead, which buckled him. He let out of a cry of agony, for something there had definitely broken.

The first guy came at her swinging, looking like a gorilla or something with how thick his arms were. She was small enough to avoid most of his hits, since he was a large man and had to actively work at keeping his fists low. Since he was hunched over, she had good access to his face. Grabbing a large book off one of the end tables, she thrust it forward with all of her might into his nose, causing a bloody mess over the cover, but at least it was a soft cover so it shouldn’t be too hard to clean up.

The front door was unlocked and thrown open, and at first Holly grew concerned that it was another of the bad men, but instead it was her husband. Her happiness at seeing his face was short lived, however, since the man she had kicked in the groin finally re-stabilized himself and started to shoot at the door. Ethan dived in, and turned off the lamp and that was the end of what Holly could see. She moved away from the men who had come after her, shuffling to the end of the couch and taking cover there. Three gunshots - she could feel them, as well as see the bright blasts. She held her breath once more, unable to breathe until the light turned back on and she was confronted by the face of her husband.

“You did amazing. I love you. Are you okay?” He signed to her. As she nodded, she started to cry from the pure exhaustion and fear of what had happened. He wiped her tears away and held her in his arms until she felt better. Only then did he call in some people for cleanup.

Throughout the rest of the night, he held her in his arms, touching her, kissing her, being proud of her. He still had not told her what he did for a  living, his real job, but it didn’t seem necessary at this point. She had figured something out, obviously, and that was good enough. He pressed a last kiss on her forehead before laying down in the bed on his back, thinking of the injuries that he had seen on the three men. Though they were dead, by his hand so he was certain of it, he had never seen such a bad knee injury before. Instead of being scared or nervous, he felt such overwhelming pride in his wife. He had made the right choice proposing to her, and he wouldn't regret it for a second.

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Not the same anon as before, but could we get some getting together erasermic headcannons?

Okay so i’ve been putting these off under the guise that I’ve been busy--which, in truth, i have been--but part of the real reason i’ve been putting them off is because i don’t actually have concrete headcanons on how Hizashi and Shouta get together D:

So like 99% of these are probably just gonna be Life-After-Getting-Together headcanons and not actually Getting-Together headcanons. But uuhhhhhhhhhh let’s try this anyways!

As much as I love the idea of Hizashi and Shouta being highschool sweethearts, I feel like. They’re too dumb?? To recognize their feelings for each other until they’re in their twenties??

Mic definitely wakes up in a cold sweat one night like “oh shIT I LOVE HIM”, whilst Aizawa’s descent into lovesickness was more subtle and more drawn out, with him just kinda realizing with every sweet thing Mic does for him making his heart beat faster until he’s actively trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him

They’re both nervous af around each other; but Mic deals with his issues with humor whilst Aizawa deals with his issues by pretending they don’t exist

Assuming Aizawa doesn’t just flat out tell Mic about his feelings immediately (which is something i honestly kind of expect that he would do), he would throw himself into his work to the point of which the only time he ever comes home to their shared apartment is when Mic is out for his radio show or is sleeping

Mic definitely misses him, and tries to rearrange his schedule in response just so he’ll have some time to spend with Aizawa, much to Aizawa’s simultaneous dismay and reluctant pleasure

As he grows a bit bolder with his crush, Mic offhandedly flirts with Aizawa. 

Aizawa always takes his nice comments as just that--nice comments. Cuz. Mic? The one with hair silkier than some rich dude’s designer scarf?? Complimenting his rat’s nest of a bedhead tied in the messiest braid ever woven by human hands??? Calling it cute???? ‘Mmmmm i dunno know about that one scoob’

Shouta snuffs out the hope that maybe Mic actually means the nice comments pretty quickly. He’s dumb like that.

Eventually Mic’s flirting and touchiness get to be too intense, and as he’s gushing about how cute and cuddly Aizawa is when he’s sleepy Mic ends up accidentally spilling the beans with a “--and that’s why I’m in love with you!”

He’s mortified to say the least. But also--Mic was super obvious with his crush, how could he expect Aizawa to not read into his comments/actions?

Joke’s on him. Cause Aizawa’s a dumb motherfucker who’s just now realizing his hopeless crush is reciprocated

“......Oh. Well now I feel like an idiot.”

They have a good laugh about how dumb they both were dancing around each other with their feelings, and then they smooch. Happy end.

They’re dating is pretty subdued. Because of current society and because of Mic’s status as a famous celebrity and Aizawa’s as an unknown, they keep their relationship a secret from everyone except for a handful of people: The teachers at UA, Tensei Iida, The Wild Wild Pussycats, Detective Tsukauchi, and eventually Miss Joke after Aizawa gets tired of her ‘advances’

in truth, Miss Joke could tell the two were practically married a mile away, and had no real intention of barging in on that. And, like Aizawa, she is also hella gay, and thinks the idea of her and him dating is the funniest fucking thing on the planet

Mic’s pretty sad that he’s not allowed to proclaim his love of Aizawa to the entire world, but he respects Aizawa’s privacy more than his disappointment, and does an ace job at keeping their relationship under wraps

In truth, it’s Aizawa who actually ends up revealing more about their relationship

I’ve mentioned this before in previous headcanon posts but feel like it needs to be put here too: Aizawa’s lack of complaint and lack of suplexing Mic to the ground whenever he so much as lays a finger on him is very telling of how much Aizawa likes Mic.

They don’t partake in PDA because of the secrecy of their relationship, but Mic has a workaround for that: his own personal loophole--he’s touchy with everyone. So he has a perfectly viable excuse to throw himself all over Aizawa in public, pulling Aizawa into hugs, touching Aizawa’s face, running his hands through Aizawa’s hair, clasping Aizawa’s hand in his.

And nobody gets the idea Aizawa’s getting special treatment because Mic is like this with everybody.

Mic could plant a big wet kiss on Aizawa’s cheek in front of a roaring crowd and everyone would just be like “Yeah, that’s normal. That’s just how Mic is.’

Mic most certainly alludes to his #1 Listener on his radio show on a consistent basis.

There are conspiracy theories going around on who Mic’s #1 Listener might be. None of them are even close to being correct.

They all make their way to Mic, and it’s honestly his favorite form of entertainment to read through just how involved some of the conspiracies get

Mic and Aizawa get married at twenty-four, with Aizawa proposing

Their wedding is ridiculously small, per Aizawa’s request, with no more than 20 people showing up.

(this one is courtesy of the 18+ erasermic discord): Mic definitely played keytar for Aizawa during the ceremony. It’s one of two times Aizawa allows himself to cry in public

Mic is the one who brings up the idea of adopting a child. Aizawa kind of dismisses it, joking that they already have a bunch of children in the forms of their students. He then takes the suggestion more seriously and tells Mic that he thinks its a bad idea: they’re both pro heroes who are very rarely at home, they have no time to raise and take care of another human being. Aizawa also expresses concerns for their hypothetical child’s safety in a world of quirks and heroes and villains, where personal attacks on a hero’s family are very much a thing

Not to mention, Aizawa just. Doesn’t think he’d be a very good dad. Mic? Yes, without a doubt. But him? If his reputation as a teacher is anything to go by, he would not be an enjoyable dad

Mic gets what Aizawa is saying. He’s disappointed to say the least, but he comes around to understanding Aizawa’s concerns, and eventually just drops the idea.

The parenting suggestion doesn’t come up between them again until years later, when Eri comes into their lives

Then it’s Aizawa suggesting they adopt her, because 

1. Villains could still potentially be after Eri, and who better than Pro Hero Parents to protect her?

2. Aizawa doesn’t know the people who Eri might get adopted by! What if they’re villains in disguise? Aizawa doesn’t trust them, no matter how nice they seem. 

3. Eri’s already comfortable with them, and she’s comfortable with everyone in the dorms who she lives among. Why take that away from her and force her to acquaint herself with strangers?

4. What if Eri’s quirk starts acting up, and she’s unable to control it? Ain’t no other person gonna be able to safely cancel it out!

And 5...... Aizawa may have gotten attached to her during his role of Care Taker

Mic is quick to jab at Aizawa’s earlier reluctance of adopting, but in truth is very welcoming of the idea of making Eri a part of their family. So he helps Aizawa out with filing the adoption papers, and soon they’re the proud parents of a sweet innocent bby

They end up adopting Shinsou as well, after Shinsou’s dad is killed after a villain attack and he’s left as an orphan

They adopt him mostly to give Shinsou some stability after it was ripped away from him so suddenly. They just want to make sure he can spend his last 3-5 years of dependence in peace, with a place to call home and people he can be comfortable around

Neither Aizawa nor Mic expect him to consider them parental figures, considering how close Shinsou was with his biological dad, but they welcome him into their family with open arms anyways

Aizawa and Mic are very proud of their little family, no matter how shoddily it may have been put together

That ended sad. Anyway, hope you enjoy!