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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Note

ok ok so my request 👉🏻👈🏻

it’s the most obvious thing but i have a full crush on bakugou, so can you please write about him x male reader, where the reader is like.. having nightmares or almost doesn’t sleep because of his quirk (idk like maybe he can hear something special or predict anything bad, doesn’t really matter) but feels safe around bakugou so he always falls asleep around him or even oN him and katsuki is like “😡(❤️)shit whatever” and the reader is kinda shy about that but totally ok with their friends being like “wow bro that’s kinda gay :> ” because he is comfortable with “oh that’s because i aM the gay✌🏻” and his classmates love him and everything and would never mock.. but one time someone from another class was really really rude bcs of that or said that katsuki hates it so the reader starts to avoid bakugou and bakugou geTS MAD about it because reader is just his and no one else’s >:0 maybe a little confession from him in the end, maybe some.. *gay coughing* angy k*ss from him

please make it angsty but with a fluffy ending please please and thank you very much in advance💙 sorry if it’s too big i can’t explain my thoughts properly thaha

Bruh I just realized how long this request is 💀💀 also look at me, writing it like decades after you requested it 😭 pls enjoy I’m actually quite proud of it (also isn’t that gif perfect hahah get it bc the prompt was abt like sleeping and bakugou’s sleeping and-yeah I’ll let u read now)

——————

Bakugou x reader - Angry Insomniacs

⚠️Warnings - mild arguing, it’s not that bad

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“Why are you always fuckin’ sleeping on me?”

It first started during the Sports Festival. The chicken race and cavalry battle really took a toll on (Y/n), and he was suffering harsh quirk drawbacks. That, being drowsiness.

Somewhere on the stands, (y/n’s) eyes grew heavier and heavier until he realized he had fallen asleep. He also didn’t realized until he woke up that no one disturbed him when he was near Bakugou. Be it fear, or just plain respect, (Y/n) seemed to get the best rest when he was with Bakugou. Not even Iida dared to wake him up when he dosed off on Bakugous shoulder.

He always made it a point to be in Bakugous vicinity when ever he could, taking naps with his head buried in his arms next to Bakugou at lunch, or having his head resting on his shoulder in the dorms.

“Oi! Don’t drift off on me!”

“Mm? Sorry, Bakugou.”

(Y/n) rubbed his eyes as he weakly pushed off the common room couch, stretching and yawning as he did so. “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“N-no, dumbass! Fuck kinda question is that, shit-for-brains?!”

“I’ll see you there later then, Bakugou.” (Y/n) gave a slight nod, Bakugou practically foaming at the mouth already, before trotting off the continue his nap in his own room.

Before heading to his room though, he walked into the kitchen to grab a post-nap time snack. Tsuyu, who was already digging in the fridge, stepped back so (Y/n) could grab whatever he wanted.

Tsu eyed (Y/n’s) slightly tousled hair. “Did you take another nap on bakugou-chan? Kero.”

(Y/n) hummed out a “yes.” Tsu hummed back in acknowledgment. Kaminari and Kirishima, unintentionally, started listening in from their place in the kitchen after hearing Bakugou being mentioned.

Tsuyu put a finger to her lip. “Ne, (Y/n)-chan, why do you always take naps on Bakugou-chan? It’s always him, kero, and you go out of your way to make sure it’s only him.”

“Why?” (Y/n) pulled off the carton of milk stubbornly hanging on to the fridge. “Because I like Bakugou. Duh. And I sleep better near people I like.

Kaminari gasped comically while Kirishima sputtered and choked on his words. Not just listening anymore, Kaminari but in. “L-like? Like, ‘like’-like?!”

Kaminari and Kirishima joined Tsuyu and (Y/n) near the fridge. (Y/n) nodded out an “mm-hm.”, whilst grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“So you’re like...” Kirishima made wild, indecipherable, gestures with his hand. Eventually, after realizing no one was taking the hint, brought his voice down to a whisper.

“...like...gay..?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?!” Kaminari grasped at his blond hair. (Y/n) thought for a moment, poured himself a glass of milk, and shrugged.

“I don’t know. You never asked.”

“And you’re so comfortable just telling us now? Why, kero-kero?”

“Because I’m gay as fuuuuuck.” (Y/n) took a swig of milk like it was a shot of whiskey. “And it’s not like it was a secret or anything.”

“Though I don’t think Bakugou knows. He’s too angry about me sleepin’ on him all the time to actually care about me.”

(Y/n) polished off his glass of milk. He set the cup down gently into the sink. “Eh, it’s not like I actually care for what he thinks about me.”

“See ya, I’m gonna finish my nap.”

“Uh-bye”

“Bye-bye.”

“Bye, kero.”

———

(Y/n) yawned as his head lolled off of Bakugou’s shoulder. He hissed, dusting off his shoulder angrily.

“Go sleep somewhere else!”

“I’m just goin’ to the bathroom, Bakugou, I’ll be back. Keep your shoulder warm for me.”

(Y/n) weakly stood up from his chair, and sluggishly walked out of the cafeteria. Damn, his feet felt heavy. Maybe if he hurried to the bathroom, he’d get back in time to catch a few more minutes of sleep before Bakugou exploded on him or lunch ended.

(Y/n’s) shoulder accidentally caught on someone else’s, making him stumble back and rub his shoulder. Monoma tilted his chin up in a mocking fashion.

“Ara? Is that (L/n) (Y/n) from class 1-A I see?”

(Y/n) nodded, only half processing his words as he continued on his way to the bathroom. Monoma followed somewhat behind, spewing words and one-liners that went in one ear and out the other. That is, until,

“Honestly, you would’ve thought that angry blond kid would’ve told you by now”.

(Y/n’s) ear perked up. He halted to a stop, Monoma following suit and shoving his hands smugly in his pockets. “What’s this about Bakugou?”

“Oh? He really didn’t tell you, huh? That’s...” Monoma stifled a condescending snicker. “...surprising.”

(Y/n) stepped closer. “C’mon man, tell me what?”

Monoma sighed. “Well,”

“I heard that Mr. Blasty, matter-o-factly,” Monoma jabbed his pointer finger into (Y/n’s) chest. “Really, really hates it when you sleep on, or near him. Actually,”

“I think he just hates you in general.”

(Y/n) furrowed his brows. He’s lying. He’s lying. He likes him, doesn’t he? Bakugou likes him, or else he wouldn’t have lead him on for so long, right?

Because he wouldn’t let just anyone sleep on his shoulder...right?

“You’re lying.”

“Well, believe what you want, honestly,” Monoma made a show of crossing his arms dramatically. “But you should see the way he shit-talks and glares at you in you’re sleep. It’s not like he can push you off though, you’re ‘just so persistent you’ll never leave him the fuck alone’.”

(Y/n) shoved his hands in his pockets. Monoma raised his hands in defense. “His words, not mine.”

(Y/n) turned on his heel and began to speed walk to the bathroom. Monoma yelled out from his spot in the empty hallway.

“Oh? You don’t want to hear what he thinks about your little crush on him?”

(Y/n) froze. He was under the assumption that everyone but him knew, could he be wrong? He pressed his lips into a fine line, turning around as composedly as he could. Though, he couldn’t mask the fearful curiosity in his eyes.

Monoma grinned. It was an unpleasant, sarcastic grin, one that didn’t look peaceful or pleasing at all.

“Well, I doubt that there’s anything to to say at all, so does it really ma-“

“What...what does he say about me?” (Y/n’s) voice quivered. He knew he was falling into Monoma’s trap, that he was just trying to provoke him, that he was looking for any kind of reaction, but his curiosity got the best of him. It really did, because Monoma’s words stabbed spears into (Y/n’s) heart, word by word.

“Blasty thinks it’s fucking disgusting how you like him, like, as another dude. Like honestly, he thinks you take him for an idiot for thinking he actually didn’t know! And the fact you sleep so close to him know full well you want to get in his pants?! He thinks you’re a pervert! A lazy shit! A fag! Ahahaha!”

Monoma loud cackles were cut short when he suddenly slumped over. He sunk to the ground, revealing Kendo, holding one big hand up and the other to her waist. She most likely knocked Monoma out once she heard his condescending retorts from the cafeteria.

Kendo sighed, bending down the haul Monoma’s arm over her shoulder. Her heavy glare softened once she caught sight of (Y/n’s) buggy eyed face starting at the ground where Monoma was.

“Sorry...he didn’t say anything too harsh, right?” Kendo’s words were gentle, but they sounded practically inaudible to (Y/n’s) traumatized ears.

He wordlessly staggered past her, heading back into the cafeteria to grab his lunch and sit elsewhere. He supposed he wouldn’t bother Bakugou anymore. Since he’s so damn ‘persistent’, he figured he’d stop bothering him for the rest of the day.

He wished he wasn’t so curious about what Bakugou thought of him. Like people say, ignorance is bliss. He could’ve gone his whole high school career without knowing Bakugou hated his every being. How was he going to face him in class knowing every pointer glare, every scoff, every insult was genuine?

(Y/n) felt his throat tighten. For the first time in years, (L/n) (Y/n) was fully awake.

——

It was the first time in many months that (Y/n) didn’t sit in the seat next to Bakugou, napping in his presence. He’d done it every day no fail, that is until this week. Actually, this is the 6th consecutive day he didn’t take a nap at all.

(Y/n) sat placid in his assigned seat, eyes wide and trying to keep awake. He couldn’t sleep without thinking of Bakugou, and every time he did it was always him scoffing and turning his back on him.

Every few seconds, (Y/n) would jolt harshly in his seat, rocking back and forth like a drug addict in withdrawal. He stared at his desk with eyes that could kill someone, and he dug his hands into his forearms to keep himself somewhat awake.

He didn’t hear Kirishima calling his name until he snapped his fingers infront of his face. The snap rang like a gunshot, surprising (Y/n) from his trance so badly he jolted back like he got electrocuted. Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

“You...ok man...?”

(Y/n’s) dry eyes landed fixed onto Kirishima. He relaxed, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was taking. “M’fine...”

His voice cracked like it hadn’t been used for days. (Y/n) let his eyes drift back forward, hunching back over and huddling his body like he was trying to squeeze himself to death. When Kirishima gave him a skeptical glare and crossed his arms, (Y/n) let out a small “m’ just tired, that’s all...” and gave the most pathetic smile known to man.

“If you’re so tired,” Mina, rested her arms on the back of (Y/n’s) chair. “Why don’t you sleep on Bakugou like you do every morn-“

“NO! I-I can’t do that!” (Y/n) whipped his head back, gripping the back of his chair so hard his hand turned white. Mina and Kirishima flinched, noticeably caught off guard with his sudden outburst. “I...can’t...I can’t do that...”

(Y/n) suddenly looked very awake, contrasting the way he looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open the whole time they were in class.

(Y/n’s) breath steadied as he shut his mouth awkwardly. “M’sorry...for yelling...didn’t mean to...”

(Y/n) scrubbed at his eyes. The rush of adrenaline was already wearing off. Mina set her dainty pink hand on (Y/n’s) hunched form. “Why not...?”

“I just can’t.”

(Y/n) said nothing more. He went back to his occasional jolts awake and scrubbing his heavy eyes every 2 minutes. Kirishima sighed, shaking his head towards Bakugou, before shrugging his shoulders then forming an ‘X’ with his hands.

Bakugou clicked his tongue angrily, turning and facing back forward in his seat.

——

(Y/n) was practically seeing stars by the end of hero’s class.

It was a relatively simple assignment, 1 on 1 sparring, but it caused a lot of quirk use.

He fought both his tired eyes and Midoryia, but ultimately failing due to his harsh quirk drawbacks. Midoryia barely had to break a sweat to have (Y/n) come toppling down.

(Y/n) was ushered back into the horde of students murmuring “don’t mind” and “you did great!”, but he just slithered past and stood a few feet away from them, all the way in the back of the field.

All might was explaining something (Y/n) couldn’t quite hear. Not only because he was standing so far away, but because his hearing had been considerably wonky, not to mention the hissing, ringing sound irritating his eardrums.

“Oi.”

And even if the ringing had stopped and he could hear, his brain was too tuckered out to remember anything past five seconds ago.

“Oi!”

Gosh, speaking of his brain-

“OI! SHIT-FOR-BRAINS! YOU GONNA KEEP IGNORING ME OR YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU’VE BEEN AVOIDIN’ ME?!”

Bakugou set off a small explosion. The blast wasn’t nearly as loud or powerful as in combat, but to a tired mans ears, it sounded like nukes. The ringing in (Y/n’s) ears spiked, and he cupped his ears tightly.

“B-Bakugou, nows not-“

“OH, YOU TRYNA TUNE ME OUT BY COVERIN’ YOUR EARS NOW?!” Another explosion. Bakugou’s gauntlets had been out for repairs since his last hero training, so (Y/n) could clearly see the glowing red and yellow spark from his fist. The ringing spiked again. His vision burned with sparks.

(Y/n) winced, saying nothing, and brought his hands to rub at his eyes. Bakugou eyebrow twitched.

“STOP IGNORING ME!”

Bakugou brought his hand out, his gloved hand starting to glow red with his next explosion. (Y/n) couldn’t take it anymore.

He stumbled forward, and grabbed Bakugou’s wrist. He shoved it out of the way, but his hand still ignited and set off a blast that propelled them straight to the ground.

“G-get off-a me!” Bakugou tried pushing (Y/n) off with his free hand.

(Y/n) pinned Bakugou’s glowing right hand by the wrist, using his other to hold down his other shoulder. (Y/n) would’ve never done something as ballsy and stupid as this, but he was too tired, too done, too much in pain to care.

“What are you actually trying to say!? All that stupid extra yelling and petty insults, they get you fucking nowhere! Spit it out! Or does trying to intimidate every single fucking person you meet just self-satisfaction?!”

Bakugou growled. He grabbed at (Y/n’s) shoulders, pushing off of him and pinning (Y/n) to the ground in his place.

“Then what about you, huh?!” Bakugou was angrily spitting at (Y/n’s) face. “Why the fuck did you stop getting enough sleep for your quirk?! Are you just that dumb that you stay up at night?!”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a stupid fucker like you, who can’t even take care of himself!”

(Y/n) hissed. He freed his dominant hand from Bakugou’s vice grip and pushed at Bakugou’s face, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “All you ever do is shit talk! Shut up! No one thinks it’s fucking cool!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?!”

The two wrestled on the ground, angrily grabbing and tugging at each other, and rolling around on the floor. There were shouts of “get Aizawa-no, get midnight-sensei!” and “All might, stop them!”, but the two were so caught up in their fight they couldn’t hear anything.

“Can’t you ever learn to mind your fucking Business?!”

“What the fuck does that even have to do with this!”

(Y/n) flipped Bakugou over one more time. He pushed him down by the forehead, pushing his head down into the ground while Bakugou flailed and kicked from underneath him.

“SHUT UP! WHY DO YOU EVEN FUCKIN’ CARE, BAKUGOU?! WHY DO...w-why do...wh...”

A sweet, sweet smell flooded (Y/n’s) senses. It smelt relaxing, tantalizing, it smelled like sleep. It smelled like sleep. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so bad. Maybe he could just...

(Y/n) slowly sank from his spot on top of Bakugou, flopping on top of his body and going completely slack. Bakugou’s eyes widened, and he covered his nose.

Midnight strutted from above the two, waving away a few stray wisps of her mist. Bakugou hacked out a new breath, while (Y/n) laid on top of him, peacefully asleep for the first time in days.

“Well, it seems like you two already know without me saying it.” Midnight motioned over to two small robots carrying a stretcher. “I’ll just take him to recovery girl and he should wake up in-“

Bakugou pursed his lips and wrapped his arms around (Y/n’s) sleeping figure when Midnight extended her arm towards them. He tightened his arms around (Y/n).

“I’ll do it. S-since this piece of shit attacked me first and...I’ll just do it-!”

Midnight eyed him knowingly, before waving him off and mumbling something about ‘youth’.

——

(Y/n’s) eyes fluttered open. His body felt like it was broken in every way possible. It was so sore, it hurt even thinking about moving. (Y/n) laid there, with his eyes half open, contemplating whether or not he should close them again.

Would he be able to sleep, though? Even if he’d started sleeping near Bakugou as a ‘don’t-wake-me-up’ measure, it slowly stopped being just that and more a matter of he felt safe and comfortable around him. In a way, he’s become a bit dependent on him, which is probably a bad thing, but he didn’t care.

Sleeping with Bakugou felt best. But that wasn’t an option, now was it?

(Y/n) pursed his lips, an involuntary groan rumbling from his tired vocal cords. He continued staring at the blinding nurse office lights, staring until he saw spots in his vision.

“Stop doing that-do you wanna go fuckin’ blind?”

(Y/n) flinched. He hated the way that familiar, aggravated voice still stirred butterflies into his stomach. He glanced to his side, as if to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things.

He met eyes with Bakugou.

“Bout’ time you fuckin’ woke up. Been waitin’ forever, shit-for-brains.”

(Y/n) averted his eyes back up to the blinding floodlights. Bakugou scowled. “Oi! Don’t ignore m-“

“How long were you here for?”

Bakugou went silent. It was his turn to avert his eyes, albeit more angrily.

“...I was here since you fuckin’ fainted in class, idiot. I even carried your stupid body here from the dumbass carrier bots.”

(Y/n’s) eyes softened, unlike Bakugou’s, who glared at the floor just beside the chair he was sitting in. (Y/n) checked the big black clock mounted on top of Recovery Girl’s desk.

It was 6:00 pm.

If Bakugou was telling the truth, he’d been sitting there waiting for him to wake up for 4 hours straight.

“Bakugou-its been hours since class ended-you should be at the dorms by now-! Why did you-“

“Well if you told me why you suddenly started avoiding me we wouldn’t be here right now!”

(Y/n) let his mouth fall closed. Bakugou scoffed. “Well?!”

(Y/n) opened his mouth, but it clamped shut when Monoma’s words echoed in his mind. Bakugou looked at him with an expectant face.

“I can’t tell you.”

“WH-“ Bakugou sputtered angrily. “COURSE YOU CAN! THE FUCKS STOPPING YOU!”

“Nothing I-I just can’t!”

“WHY!? WHY NOT?!”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

“OK AND?! I LOVE YOU TOO!”

“THEN WHATS THE PROBLEM HERE!” (Y/n) shouted, before he cupped his mouth in realization. Bakugou’s eyes went wide aswell. “Wait I didn’t mean that-“

“YEAH! WHATS THE FUCKIN PROBLEM HERE?!” Bakugou recovered from his initial shock, already back to yelling. (Y/n) furrowed his brows with a blush.

“Wh..wait so-“

“I LIKE YOU, YOU LIKE ME, SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STOP SLEEPING ON ME?!”

“Wait but...” (Y/n’s) voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t you, y’know...not like it...when I do that-?”

“DUMBASS! WHERE’D YOU GET THAT FROM?!” It seemed like Bakugou got angrier and angrier each passing second. It was hard to tell what (Y/n) found so attractive about him.

“From...from Monoma...?”

Bakugou looked angrier than ever. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “YOU-I CAN’T BELIEVE-! I-! FUCK IT!”

Bakugou snarled and practically shoved his face onto (Y/n’s), angrily stealing his breath away with a kiss. The kiss, surprisingly, was soft and gentle, despite Bakugou’s previous intensity. It seemed to calm Bakugou down, and cheer (Y/n) up.

The two slowly parted for air. It was quiet for a second, something that rarely happened near Bakugou.

“I thought you hated me...”

“W-why the fuck would I hate you...dumbass.” Bakugou rested his forehead on (Y/n’s) shoulder. His spiky tufts of blond hair tickling (Y/n’s) face.

“Because Monoma said so...?”

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Bakugou snarled, climbing into the cot (Y/n) was in. He pushed (Y/n) back down into the pillow, pulling up the white blanket and laying down next to him. He guided (Y/n’s) head-a tad bit forcefully-to his chest. “...after we sleep.”

Bakugou shut his eyes, half irritated and half embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled tiredly. He nuzzled his head into Bakugou’s chest.

“Goodnight, Bakugou.”

——

Extra:

Monoma walked into class 1-B the next morning. He yawned, still a bit tired, when he ran straight into someone.

“Hey, copycat fucker.”

Monoma looked up. The class was empty, with no one but Bakugou standing infront of him.

Fuck.

Needless to say, Bakugou got another 3 days of house arrest.

——————

Bru this was so long ong

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo #bakusquad #bakugou x male reader #bakugo x male reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x y/n #mha #mha fic #bnha #bnha fic #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #mr scifijiz

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bubbleteaimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Calling the Karasuno Boys an embarrassing nickname in front of their teammates

Karasuno Boys Headcanon

DIACHI SAWAMURA

You hadn’t meant to, honestly

It was late and you thought everyone had gone home by the time you and Daichi were leaving the gym

He was in charge of locking up, so when he was finished you grabbed his hand and sighed

“Pookie I can’t wait to get home and relax. Today’s been a long day~” You say, shaking your head

Daichi was going to agree, but then you both heard it and froze

A loud outburst of laughter, seemingly coming from the darkness caused you both to yelp

“Suga, Noya?” You stared at the boys in shock, your heart pounding as Suga went red from trying to hide his laughter and as Noya bent over in tears

“H-Hi guys,” Suga stuttered, looking over at a flustered Daichi with quivering lips

“What are you...what are you two still doing here?” Daichi tried for remain calm but his reddining cheeks gave him away. He prayed that they didn’t hear anything, but judging by Noya’s behavior, they did

“W-Well, we were gonna walk home with you guys since we live pretty close by but...” Noya laughed again, “It seems you two might want some alone time. Isn’t that right, Pookie?”

“Hey!” Daichi went beet red and you stared at him with wide eyes, an apologetic look on your face. “Don’t call me that- only...only Y/N can!”

“Oh yeah?” Noya took that as a challenge. Not being to hold it any longer, Suga burst out into laughter also

“I cannot...I cannot believe...!” He couldn’t even finish the sentence he was laughing so hard, and angry Daichi™️ immediately got activated

“Both of you shut up!” He yelled, fire practically blazing off of him. “Not another word or I’ll have run 100 laps!”

“Whatever you say~” Noya sang

“Pookie,” Suga finished, and then the two of them started laughing again. Daichi sighed

“I hate you,” He muttered darkly, but at this point you didn’t know if he was talking about them- or you

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

Suga was in the middle of practice and like the good partner you were, you sitting in the bleachers to cheer him

It had become a regular thing for you two after dating for almost a year and Suga loved it when you cheered him on

Typically, he always looked to you when he was having a bad day and today was that day

Suga wasn’t having a particularly good game, and his frustrations were evident on his face

Decideding to boost his morale a bit, you got up and called out, “You got this, Sugi-Bear!” for the top of your lungs when he went to serve again

You’d hoped it would boost his spirts, but all it did was cause Suga to pause, along with the rest of the boys

“Sugi...Bear?” Kageyama looked at the older boy with wide eyes, Suga horrified face matching his own

“Did Y/N just-”

“DUDE DID THEY JUST CALL YOU SUGI-BEAR? HA!” Tanaka crackled as the rest of his teammates grinned, even Coach Ukai suppressing a laugh

“No, no-!” Suga desperately tried to backtrack while you covered your mouth instantly, choking back a scream

Why did I do that? You wondered, but it was too late

Soon the whole gym was erupting in laughter, Kiyoko turning away to hide her giggles

“Dammit,” Suga put the ball down and sighed. “Daichi, can you please tell them to- Daichi?”

Suga was floored as he turned to his friend, expecting backup, only to find the captain clutching his stomach and leaning against Asahi to catch his breath

“I...Sorry Suga,” Daichi spit out in between laughs, shaking his head

“Well this is just great,” Suga groaned, burying his head in his hands. He knew now that he’d never live this down, so he figured from now on he’d practice his serves alone

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

You and Kageyama were in the middle of the courtyard eating lunch, but for some reason Kageyama didn’t look so good

“Babycakes? Do you want me to take you to the nurse?” You asked sympathetically, rubbing his back

“No, no it’s fine. Thank you though,” Kageyama nodded and leaned into your touch, relishing your cool hands

He almost looked peaceful, however it didn’t last as Hinata suddenly appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face

“Did Y/N just call you...babycakes?” Hinata let a laugh, causing both you and Kageyama to stiffen. “And you didn’t...try to kill them?”

“Huh?!” Kageyama swerved around so face you thought it’d give him whiplash, glaring at Hinata with a deep blush on his face. “N-No they didn’t! That’s ridiculous! Get lost, carrot top!”

“Ha! They did! That’s why you’re blushing so hard!” Hinata howled, his outburst causing multiple people to look over at you guys

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, turning down your head as you stared at Kageyama apologetically

“I’m sorry, I guess that was too loud,” You said, but he was too busy arguing with Hinata and trying to strangle him to even pay attention anymore

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

It was late, you had just gotten back from (Y/C/N) practice and you went to the gym to find Tadashi

Usually, he’d walk you home at night and be waiting once you were finished. But today it looked like practice was running a little late for him so you knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer

“Huh? Oh it’s you,” Tsukishima didn’t mean to sound so rude, but you still flinched at his words

“Um, yeah. Is Yammie around?” You asked hesitantly, rubbing your arms. You were already thrown off a bit and didn’t really think as the nickname slipped passed your lips

“Uh...yeah he’s- wait a second. Yammie?” Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake, just as Yamaguchi came running over

“Tsukki, who is it?” He asked, before his eye settled on you and a wide smile grew on his face. “Oh hey Y/N! Practice is about to end soon, I’ll be out!”

“O-Okay,” You stuttered, avoiding eye contact with Tsukki as you stepped inside of the gym

“What’s wrong?” Yamaguchi frowned, noticing your embarrassed demeanor

“Well, don’t take this wrong way but-”

“Do you really let them call you Yammie?” Tsukishima interrupted you, causing both of you to freeze

Unfortunately, he had said it loud enough to attract the attention of everyone else and all eyes were on you guys, Tadashi becoming a stuttering and blushing mess

“What?! W-Where did you hear that? They don’t call me Yammie! That’s ridiculous, Tsukki!”

You both were horrified as laughter began to erupt throughout the gym, his teammates obviously getting a kick out of the nickname

“I’m sorry,” You turned to Yamaguchi the same time as Tsukishima did

“I didn’t mean to say it that loud,” Tsukishima said, tossing a glare towards Hinata as he laughed the loudest

“I-It’s alright. Hopefully they’ll forget about it tomorrow,” Tadashi stuttered, but spoiler alert: they didn’t

TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

You smiled as you heard the doorbell ring, indicating that your boyfriend was finally here to pick you up

Smoothing out your uniform, you took one last look in the mirror before running to the door and tearing it open

“Lovebug! You’re here early!” You exclaim, but you weren’t really complaining as you threw yourself into his arms and smiled at him

“U-Uh, yeah, yeah we are. I stopped by to walk with Noya,” He explained, embarrassment growing on his face

By the time you pulled away, the name had already registered in Noya’s mind and he burst out laughing, much to Tanaka’s annoyance

“Lovebug? You told me Y/N didn’t have any nicknames for you!” He howled, whilst holding his stomach. “Man, this is gold. Mind if I call him that too, Y/N?”

“I...” You didn’t really know what to say, but you did feel bad for Tanaka a little

“Shut up!” He growled, grabbing his friend by the collar and shaking him. “That nicknames cute, alright?! And I love it when Y/N calls me that so shut up dammit!”

“Okayy~” You had a feeling this would not be the last of hearing about this. And what do you know- all the boys seemed to be holding in laughter later that day when you entered the gym

“So, Lovebug huh?” Asahi grinned at you

“Shut up!”

ASAHI AZUMANE

The celebratory dinner was going great- all the boys seemed to be really enjoying themselves but you noticed that Asahi was going a little fast

“Bubbie? Slow down a little- you’re gonna choke,” You giggle a little, shaking your head at him

“Oh, yeah, right,” Asahi lowered his bowl and chuckled, but he wasn’t the one that ended up choking

Daichi, who was sitting right next to you guys, started choking on his barbecue

“Cap?” Asahi patted his back a little to help him out, “You alright?”

“Bubbie?” Daichi managed to speak through his coughing, causing the tips of Asahi’s ears to go completely red

“Uh...I...I can explain!” Asahi stuttered out, staring at him with wide eyes

“Explain what?” Suga poked his head in and looked back and forth between them

“N-Nothing!” All three of you squeaked out, turning your backs to him and resuming on your food. Daichi and Asahi were bright red, meanwhile you were pretending you were just grateful Daichi didn’t blab

“Well okay...” You could tell Suga was suspicious but slowly he let it go. Daichi however, grew a wide smile on his face as everything began to sink in

“That’s quite a nickname you got going for yourself,” He commented, just when you thought it had died down

“Yeah, well,” Asahi scratched the back of his face. You felt so bad- he looked like a tomato! “I’d appreciate it if we kept this between us, yeah?”

“Yeah, you got it,” Daichi grinned and nodded, causing Asahi to breathe a sigh of relief, “Bubbie.”

HINATA SHOYO

Hinata had a match and unfortunately you couldn’t make it, so he opted to FaceTime you instead right before the game was starting

“Good luck Cutiepie! I know you’ll do great!” You shouted through the screen, smiling brightly

Hinata beamed and nodded his head quickly, forgetting that he had you in speakerphone

“Thanks, babe!” He shouted, just as Kageyama walked by, his jaw dropped to the floor

“Cutepie?” He said in disbelief, and Hinata whipped around so quickly the screen became blurry for a moment

“Crap!” Panic bubbled up inside of the orange-haired boy as a sly smirk grew on Kageyama’s face. “That wasn’t for you to hear!”

“Obviously not, Cutiepie,” Kageyama grinned, barking out a laugh that caused the others to stare in disbelief

“Is he...” Tsukishima started

“...Laughing?” Noya finished, tilting his head a little

All the boys were scared, and slightly alarmed when Kageyama doubled over as Hinata yelled at him

“Shut up! It’s not funny!” Your boyfriend yelled, shaking his hands

“What’s going on here?” Coach Uaki raised an eyebrow

“He-”

“Shut up Kageyama!”

“Y/N calls Hinata their Cutiepie!” Tobio yelled out, causing Coach Uaki to sputter back a laugh

“They what now?” All the other boys turned their backs so angry Hinata couldn’t see them absolutely losing it

“You butt-wipe! You weren’t supposed to tell anybody!” Hinata yelled while you tried to surpress your giggles

“Shoyo baby It’s okay, that just means you gotta kick their asses 10x harder,” You reminded him, trying to cheer him up

But the damage was already done

Nobody was ever gonna let that go, especially not Kageyama. And even though you weren’t there for the match, Hinata told you later on how even the other team started teasing him for it

But at least they won, though

NISHINOYA YU

It wasn’t even you that outed him, it was Kiyoko lmao

She was picking up some stuff around the gym and there just so happened to be a volleyball underneath the bench he was sitting on, so she asked him to hand it to her politely

“Nishi-boo, can you please hands me that?” The minute she said it, it was like the entire gym just froze

The sound of arguing and volleyballs thumping around decreased, and suddenly all eyes were on Noya and Kiyoko as they both stuttered out excuses, clearly embarrassed

“I-I mean, Nishinoya, I didn’t-”

“She doesn’t- she didn’t mean-”

Tanaka was looking at his friend with eyes so big you’d think they were saucers. Exclaiming loudly, he yelled, “WHAT DID SHE JUST CALL YOU?”

“Nishi-boo?” Asahi frowned. “I thought only Y/N called you that.”

“YOU KNEW?!” Both Noya and Tanaka exclaimed, causing Asahi to flinch

“I am so sorry,” Kiyoko tried desperately to apologize to a dumbstruck Nishinoya, “I-It’s just- that’s the last thing I heard Y/N call you before practice today and it just slipped out. I’m really sorry!”

“N-No need,” Noya stuttered, his cheeks a dangerous shade of red, “I-It was an accident, right?”

“YOU THREE HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!” Tanaka pointed at Kiyoko, Noya and Asahi

“IM NOT EXPLAINING ANYTHING SO JUST FORGET ABOUT IT OKAY?” Noya yelled back, but it was too late

The age of him being addressed Nishi-boo had already started. And the one leading the charge?

Why that was Tanaka of course!

TSUKISHIMA KEI

It wasn’t like you meant to expose him

But when Tsukki snuck up on you one day right after he had just finished practicing, you couldn’t but exclaim, “Tsukki-Bear? What are you doing?!”

Cue you spinning around to see practically the entire Karasuno team standing there, frozen in time

“Did I...hear that correctly?” Hinata stuttered, jaw dropped

“Did they just call you...?” Kageyama asked, wide-eyed

“TSUKKI-BEAR?!” They yelled at the same time, bursting out into laughter as Tsukishima scowled

“Y/N...” He turned to you and sighed as they crackled up behind him, the older boys trying to hide their laughter

Ennoshita was the first to crack, Suga following behind as they leaned on each other for support

Even Daichi and Asahi were stunned, but at least they tried to help

“H-Hey that’s not nice to make fun of him,” Asahi stuttered, but it was blocked out by Hinata’s laughter

“I cannot believe...one of the meanest and tallest people I know is called Tsukki-Bear,” He gasped out

“Ugh. Shut up!” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, rubbing at his temples. “So what if I’m called that? It’s just a freaking nickname! You guys are immature!”

“You tell them Tsukki-Bear!” Yamaguchi yelled out, only to realize his mistake a second later, “I-I mean...”

This caused a whole new round of laughter to ring out and Tsukishima grabbed your hand roughly

“Come on. Let’s go,” He growled, dragging you off

“Tsukki! Y/N! Wait up!” Yamaguchi quickly followed

It was safe to say that Tsukki didn’t talk to the team for three days after that, but hey- At least they had something to hold over him now

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appplepii · 4 years ago

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prove them wrong (armin arlert x fem!reader)

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: modern!au, mentions of alcohol, douchebag jean😳, unprotected sex, soft degradation, choking, oral sex

summary:

Armin is sick of being underestimated.

“Have you and (y/n) even done anything yet, Armin?” Jean laughed, slightly scoffing at the boy from across the couch. Armin choked on the water he was drinking, coughing as Eren patted his back to help him breathe. “Shut the fuck up Jean, we all know you’re probably a virgin.” Eren spat as he was quick to defend his best friend. Jean’s face twisted into a scowl, his face growing pink as he flipped the loud boy off.

“Honestly, is Jean wrong though? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them kiss.” Connie chimed in as he took another swig of the beer he had been nursing. A blush rose on Armin’s cheeks as he stayed silent, his eyes glued to the carpet of his living room. “Who even cares? Some are more shy than others! Anyway, can we get more barbecue chips?” Sasha lifted the empty bowl over her head, directing the question at the owner of the apartment. “Sure Sasha. There are some in the pantry, make yourself at home.” Armin quietly laughed to himself as he answered her question, glad the girl was able to take the subject of the conversation off himself.

It was a Friday night and everyone found themselves in a familiar setting, hanging out and drinking at Armin’s apartment. His place had slowly become the regular spot to be weekly, it was the biggest out of everyones since he shared it with you. The guest bedroom had become home to anyone who got too shit-faced and needed a place to crash. Although Armin hated alcohol, he always kept a pack of beers and other drinks for his friends. He didn’t mind being the only sober one, he enjoyed the company of his long time friends regardless.

“Babe, I’m home!” Your voice called out, the sound of the front door slamming as you took your shoes off. Walking into the living room you weren’t surprised to see the same group of friends you’ve had since high school. Armin’s expression immediately grew soft, a smile on his lips as he patted the seat next to him for you to take. Settling down next to your boyfriend, you took a hold of his hand to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you caught up with everyone. Looking around the room, your eyes met with Jean who’s face took on a smug expression. “Oh, perfect!” Jean cleared his throat. “Since we’re talking about it, we should just ask you!” You glared at the man, knowing he always had some shit to start. “What bullshit are you starting now, Jean.” The bored expression in your voice left Jean mocking offense at your lack of enthusiasm. “Come on, you know you love me!” You tried your best to tune him out as you took a drink of Armin’s water he had handed to you. “Anyway, have you and Armin fucked yet?”

It was your turn to choke on your water now, sputtering curses at the man for asking something so uncomfortable. You’re almost positive your face is beet red from the heat radiating off of it, and you glanced at your boyfriend who was clearly embarrassed as he pinched the bride of his nose. It was clear to everyone now that Jean was clearly intoxicated otherwise he wouldn’t be asking so many personal questions. Trying your hardest not to let your embarrassment get the best of you, you sneered at him. “Jean, I’m gonna excuse your douchey attitude for the fact that your shit-faced, but I suggest you shut the fuck up.”. Jean payed your threat no mind as he let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, don’t feel bad! Some of us are late bloomers. I believe you’ll get there one day bud!” Eren could feel the discomfort coming from his best friend, standing up and glancing at Mikasa who followed his lead.

“Anyway, it’s getting late. We’re gonna head home, we’ll see you next weekend right?” Eren looked at Armin who nodded back. Marco was the next to stand up, clearly embarrassed with his friend who got too drunk. “Yeah I’m gonna head out too, I’ll take Jean to my place.” Marco grabbed the boy by his collar and forced him to stand up, ignoring his complaints and asking if it was something he said. Armin tried his hardest to suppress the sigh of relief at the fact he would be alone with you. Nobody liked being asked personal questions, especially ones about their sex life. He made a mental note to thank Eren and Marco for their help.

After that, everyone else gradually made their way home by calling for Ubers or having a friend pick them up. The quiet of your shared apartment brought you comfort after such a long day, humming to yourself as you cleaned up the kitchen. Finishing up and wiping your hands on your jeans, you found your boyfriend staring out the window as he sat on the same spot he had been in all night. Slowly you made your way to him, standing in front of the boy and running your fingers through his hair. “You okay, babe? Don’t listen to Jean. You know how he gets when he’s fucked up.” Armin looked up at you, a small smile on his face. His eyes had a darker expression though, and you felt your stomach erupt with butterflies as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap.

“Don’t worry, I don’t let anything Jean says get to me.” Armin’s hands wondered across the tops of your thighs, fingers trailing up under your shirt to let his thumbs trace the base of your spine. “Besides,” he pulled you closer by your hips, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “They just don’t know how good I make you feel, huh?” You gulped, fingers shaking as they gripped at the shoulders of his black hoodie. Armin’s lips trailed from your ear to your shoulder, leaving feather-light kisses down the way before sucking on the spot at the base of your neck between your collarbones. Letting out a whine at the contact, you tightened your grip on his shoulders. “I asked you a question angel, don’t you know it’s rude to ignore people?” The tone of his voice was something you only ever heard in moments like these, his tone raspy and just above a whisper.

Pulling your hips down to grind on his own, he pulled back from the spot on your neck. Bringing up his hand to let his fingers trail over the dark bruise to admire it, he slowly wrapped his fingers around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just let his hand rest there as he gazed into your eyes. An almost bored expression sit on his face as he sat expectantly. “Well?” You avoided his eyes, feeling embarrassed as you fiddled with his hoodie strings. “N-no, they don’t know how good you make me feel.” Armin chuckled lowly, the hand on your neck coming up to grab your face and force eye contact with him. “Why are you so shy baby? You know I always take good care of you.”

Shifting your hips, you began to feel desperation build up in your chest. You leaned in and met his lips with a deep kiss, bringing your fingers to run across the short hair of his undercut. You felt him harden under your lap and couldn’t help but moan into his mouth at the feeling. Moving off of what felt like instinct, you reached your hand between the two of you. Fiddling with the cool metal of the belt buckle, you pulled at the leather strap to undo it. Pulling away from the kiss Armin grabbed your wrist stopping you. Your eyebrows furrowed into confusion and frustration as you searched his face for his reasoning.

“Why are you in such a rush? We have all night, doll.” Armin leaned back into his seat, glancing at the bottom of your shirt and back up to your face gesturing for you to take it off. You didn’t hesitate to follow his unspoken orders, throwing the thin shirt off of your frame and across the room somewhere. Goosebumps erupted on your soft skin as the cool air made contact with it as you shivered slightly. Reaching your hand behind your back, you undid the clip of your bra and let the straps slowly slide down your shoulders. Armin hummed as he observed your naked figure, letting the palm of his hand rest on your rib cage, under one of your breasts.

“Look at you, my perfect sweet girl.” He cooed, running his thumb across your nipple causing you to suck in a breath. “You’re so responsive,” he listened to your breathy moans as he attached his lips to you “I love it.”. Leaving multiple bruises scattered across your flushed chest he smiled, he always thought you looked pretty bruised. Throwing your head back, you tried to control your violent heart beat and your erratic breathing. “You doing okay?” He asked against your skin, the warm breath once again causing goosebumps to form. “I just, I need..” Your statement trailed off as you became distracted by his grinding onto you. “What? What do you need?” he egged you to continue as his hand traveled between your breasts and to your jeans. His nimble fingers curled into the waistband of your pants while his thumb threatened to undo the button of them. “I need you to touch me, please.” You breathed out, desperate for him to do what you asked.

His smile slightly widened as he finally undid the button of your jeans, his hand slipping in to tease you through your underwear. “Aw, how sweet. You know I can’t say no to you.” He increased the pressure of his fingers as he circled around your clit. Already on cloud nine from his calculated touch, you let your head fall onto his shoulder as you bit back the sounds you wanted to make. “You’re already soaked through your panties, how dirty. Come on, take these off.” He took his hand out of your jeans and pulled down on the belt loops as he gestured for you to take them off.

You stood up from his lap and shimmied the tight jeans off, taking off your panties in the process. Before you were able to take back your seat on his lap, you felt him lean forward and rub the sides of your thighs. Armin enjoyed the feeling of your smooth skin as he dragged his palms to ghost over your ass. After squeezing briefly he cupped the back of your thigh, picking up your leg and letting it rest on his shoulder. You held your breath as you glanced at the man sitting between your legs, feeling like you might just pass out the moment his tongue touched you. Sucking on your clit and letting a finger slide into you with little resistance, you gripped his hair tight, knowing it probably hurt him (not that he complained).

“Oh my- Oh my god. Please don’t stop.” Your ramblings sounded senseless but you didn’t care, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure you were receiving. Armin hummed in response, the vibrations making the hairs on your body stand straight up as you gasped, “You’re so good, so good to me.”. Armin was stronger than he looked, his biceps flexing as the grip on your thigh and hip kept you standing. With the way your knees were buckling you could bet if he wasn’t holding you you’d be on the floor by now. He could tell you were close by the sounds you were making and the way you squirmed, and right before you met with your release he pulled his fingers out of you and backed away from where you wanted him the most.

“Wh- I don’t understand, why are you-“ Your eyes brimmed with tears brought on by the pure desparation built up inside of you and you couldn’t stop the pout from forming on your bruised lips. Pressing a kiss to your hip bone, Armin wiped his face clean from you and guided you to lay on your back on the couch. “Be patient sweet thing, I told you we have all night, right?” Your disappointment from being edged was slowly disappearing as you thought about the heat looking in your stomach, looking at him you spread your legs, on full display for the man in front of you. “Fine, please just fuck me then.”

Armin’s patience was suddenly non-existent as rapidly threw off his t-shirt and pulled off the grey sweatpants he’d been wearing. Before he was able to take off his boxers you beat him to it, leaning over and pulling them down yourself. Grabbing his dick in your hand and leaving a kiss on the tip, you took him in your mouth as deep as you could, slightly gagging as fresh tears stung your eyes. Armin tensed immediately, his hand flinging to the top of your head as he tangled his fingers into your hair. “Oh, fuck” he moaned out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of how warm your mouth was. “That’s it, you’re such a good girl, my sweet baby.” he was the one rambling now, his eyes screwed shut because if he saw you with your mouth around him he might just cum too soon. “Enough,” he says gently as he pulls you off of his cock, “I want to be inside you already.”

You had no complaints as you went back to the position of laying on your back. His calloused hands grab your calves as he pushes them against your thighs. Armin didn’t think he could get any harder than he already was but he proved himself wrong when he saw you glistening with sweat, spread out for him. “Are you ready, sweet girl?” He teased your entrance as your eyes shot open to look into his. “I’m ready, please just-“ You were interrupted by the feeling of Armin pushing himself into you, your words trailing off as your eyes grew wide at the stretch. He leaned down to meet you with another sloppy kiss, his hand finding it’s familiar place around your throat. Pulling back with a wet smack, Armin leaned back to take your legs and put them over his shoulders. Biting your hand, you tried to suppress your screams as your eyes rolled back into their sockets, completely content with the full feeling you had. Tears were now streaming down your cheeks and you knew you had trail marks from your mascara running.

“I bet Jean wouldn’t expect this, huh? He wouldn’t think I’d have you crying from how good I fuck you, isn’t that right baby?” The hand on your throat squeezed harder, not enough to hurt you but enough to make your head feel dizzy, the sensation adding to the pleasure of it all. You opened your mouth in attempt to answer his question, but all that fell from your lips were moans and pleas. “Oh honey, I fucked you stupid, didn’t I? Imagine if everyone could see you now, not even able to speak after taking my dick. I’d bet that would shut them the fuck up.” The words coming from Armin’s mouth brought you closer and closer to your peak, your fingernails leaving red scratch marks down his abdomen and on his biceps. You could tell Armin was close too, by the way he was getting sloppier and his moans had turned more into whines. “Such a good girl, you’re always so tight for me. I love you princess.” Armin ranted, squeezing the bottom of your thighs and pressing a kiss to your knee. “Go ahead, sweet thing. Let go.” His encouragements sent you over the edge, toes curling over his shoulders as you sobbed out his name. Armin followed soon after, slipping out and falling on top of you, head resting on your bare chest.

“Thank you for that,” he murmured after a couple of moments, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone. “I guess sometimes those assholes do get to me.”. Once again you let your fingers run through his now damp hair, kissing his hairline sweetly. “Don’t have to thank me babe, anytime.” You giggled, completely euphoric from the previous actions.

Well, you thought to yourself, he definitely proved them wrong.

✧༺☆༻✧

omg happy valentine’s day here is an armin smut 😳 i have loved this man since i was like 13 sooo this is a long time coming hehe

thank u sm for reading and for all the notes on my other fics <3 yall r so sweet!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #anime #aot #armin #armin arlert #armin x y/n #armin x reader #armin smut #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan smut

427 notes · View notes

t0wnspersonb · 4 years ago

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Kiss it Better (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hello I just read your fics about Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto and I really liked them 💞 So I was wondering if you could write a fluff fic where tsukki gets embarassed trying to make the first move you can also just add things to your liking If you don‘t want to that‘s totally okay I‘ll be waiting for your upcoming fics thank youuuu 🧡

~~~

Omg that’s so funny because my next story was literally going to be just that! I had a lot of fun writing this one and might do a part two with some *cough* smut *cough* just like Kuroo, everyone is lowkey a Tsukishima girl. I hope you like this anon!

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Word Count: 2,293

Summary: Tsukishima has always liked you, but you’ve never noticed his advances. A trip to the nurses office might change your mind.

~~~~~~~~

You liked to think that you were friends with the tall blonde sitting behind you in class.

But sometimes…

Thunk.

Sometimes…

Thunk.

Sometimes you really wanted to fucking strangle him.

Thunk.

“Can you stop kicking my chair!?” you hissed, staring at the smirking middle blocker.

“My foot slipped.” he replied coyly, causing your scowl to deepen.

Before you could retort back to him the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You started packing up your stuff, grumbling to yourself about how rude Tsukishima was.

“Don’t you want to walk to the clubs together?” He called out to your leaving form.

You huffed turning around to see him and Yamaguchi looking at you.

There were times when Tsukishima didn’t annoy you, and those were the times you would walk with them to your after school club activities.

You were part of the photography club, which was on the way to the gymnasium that held their volleyball practice.

But again, you only walked with them when Tsukishima wasn’t being an annoying little prick.

Today definitely wasn’t one of those days. He had been bugging you all day. It went from his annoying comments to him poking at you harshly, and then to kicking your chair.

You weren’t sure if it was because he was bored and had nothing better to do, or if it was because he actually didn’t think of you as a friend. Or because he was just simply an asshole.

Maybe it was a combination of all three, you didn’t know.

“No way.” you sniffed, sticking out your tongue to him. “I don’t want to walk with you anywhere today. If it was just Yama-kun then I would. But not if you’re there. Stupid.”

Tsukishima visibly looked annoyed at your statement.

“Y/n-chan.” Yamaguchi called out, raising his hands up as he looked at both annoyed expressions. “You guys should try and get along yeah?”

“Be quiet Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima sighed, moving to walk past you. “If she wants to be childish then just let her. I’m surprised she even got into this class.”

“I’m surprised Yama-kun is even your friend.” you fired back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I bet you aren’t even good at volleyball.”

Tsukishima paused, and then before you could even register what had happened, he was leaning down, incredibly close to your face and to your body. You could physically feel his body heat radiating into your own. His hand resting on the doorframe, preventing you from leaving the room.

“Why don’t you come by and find out?” he said slowly, ignoring the panicked squeak that escaped Yamaguchi’s lips. His gold eyes were piercing into your own, but you couldn’t see any anger in them at what you had said, you couldn’t see an ounce of annoyance either. But there was something else there, something you couldn’t place.

Ignoring your hammering heart and the heat creeping up into your face, you shoved his arm away scowling. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll take pictures of you sucking and have an article published in the school newspaper about you being a terrible person and sucking at volleyball!” you huffed stalking away from the tall first year angrily.

You ignored the calls of Yamaguchi and just focused on heading towards your club.

Today was definitely one of those days where you wanted nothing to do with Tsukishima.

The relationship you had with the middle blocker was incredibly strange. One minute you guys were perfectly fine with each other, and next - well it was exactly what had just happened.

Tsukishima scoffed as he watched your retreating figure. But he couldn’t deny the fact that your reactions were incredibly lame, but incredibly cute.

“You shouldn’t tease her like that Tsukki.” Yamaguchi sighed. “She’s never going to like you back if you keep making her mad like that.”

Tsukishima didn’t say anything as they continued their way to the gym.

Everyone knew that he liked you. It was incredibly obvious, and Tsukishima always made sure to make it incredibly obvious.

But it wasn't obvious to you.

The one person that it mattered to the most.

You were frustrating and amusing, stubborn and incredibly smart, quick-witted and incredibly beautiful.

The entire package.

And Tsukishima wanted you to be his.

But you were too fucking dense to realize that.

And quite frankly, he was getting sick of it. For as smart as you were, you were incredibly thick when it came to stuff like that it appeared.

It frustrated him to no end.

Usually what he depicted as playful flirting you thought as him just being downright mean.

It was a constant cycle, neverending.

It was ridiculous.

Actually scratch that.

This was ridiculous.

It had been a couple of days since that last encounter, Tsukishima deciding his chances at winning you over would probably be better if he stopped his teasing for a little bit.

But right now you were nodding your head rapidly in understanding as Hinata talked to you. You were there during one of their practices, to take photos of them. A project that you had to do for your photography club. Takeda-sensei had given you permission to be there to snap pictures of the team.

“- And then I go boom!” Hinata exclaimed bouncing around.

You smiled at his antics. “That sounds incredible Hinata! Do you think I can take a picture of you doing your crazy jump?” you asked, holding up the camera for emphasis.

But before he could utter an answer, Tsukishima interrupted. “We have to start practice, you can just take pictures then.” he said to you, glancing at you briefly.

You rolled your eyes at his aloofness and apologized to Hinata who was protesting loudly at what Tsukishima had said. “He’s right Hinata, I don’t want to impede on your guys’ practice so just pretend like I’m not here and I’ll take as many pictures as possible.”

Reluctantly he agreed and everyone continued the practices Ukai had asked them to do before splitting up into different teams. They were doing a match.

You were honestly in awe as you watched them play. You didn’t think that volleyball could be so… amazing. You had teased both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima about how boring the sport was.

You were so wrong.

You had almost forgotten to take pictures, you were so captivated.

But what had surprised you the most, was Tsukishima. You had never seen him so… concentrated? So serious? So… so attractive?

You felt your face flush, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. That was ridiculous. You had never been attracted to the middle blocker, you found him annoying, a completely arrogant, unnecessarily tall asshole, and… and he was incredibly good looking.

What was wrong with you? How could you even think of something like that? How could you - “Watch out!” your eyes went wide as a volleyball came hurtling at you with rapid speed.

Your eyes squeezed shut, readying yourself for the impact.

Only it never came. You heard a loud grunt and opened your eyes to see Tsukishima clenching at his fingers, the ball rolling away from his feet.

He… he protected you from the ball.

Tsukishima’s pointer finger throbbed in pain, he knew it wasn’t broken, but the nail had torn just a bit, blood seeping out of his wound.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to move, he knew that Nishinoya was closer to you, he knew that he was heading towards the ball to stop it from hitting you. But his body just moved after he called out his warning.

“Oi Tsukishima are you okay?” Tanaka asked running up to him, several of his teammates surrounding him.

He removed his hand to reveal his bloody nail, causing you to gasp lightly.

“I need to stop the bleeding. I’ll go to the nurse.” Tsukishima said quietly.

“Let me help you.” You blurted out immediately, causing all eyes to be on you now. “It’s my fault you got injured.”

The tall blonde nodded, and both of you left the gym quietly.

“He’s got it bad huh?” Tanaka smirked, staring after you guys.

“I hope he can confess properly.” Yamaguchi sighed.

***

The walk to the infirmary was incredibly quiet, awkward almost. But it was just your luck that the nurse was nowhere to be found.

“You can go. I can take care of it from here.” Tsukishima said quietly.

You shook your head. “No. You got hurt because of me. At least let me help.” You started to take out the necessary equipment to help disinfect and wrap his finger. “Go ahead and sit down.” you said gesturing to the bed.

Tsukishima didn’t bother arguing, silently sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely.

Even sitting down, he was still incredibly tall. The top of his head just below your chin. You held your hand out his expectantly, he sighed quietly before placing his much larger hand in yours.

Carefully you cleaned up the blood and began wiping down the wound with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. The smell stingy your nose, but the atmosphere around the both of you was quiet, calm almost.

His hand dwarfed your own, his fingers long and elegant, and surprisingly soft against your own touch.

Tsukishima couldn’t deny the fact that he was enjoying this immensely. You stood incredibly close to him, slightly between his parted legs as you worked. He could smell the soft perfume on your skin and the laundry detergent you used on your clothes.

It was a wonderful smell.

Maybe… maybe now would be a good time to tell you… right?

“I’m sorry Tsukishima.” you said quietly, wrapping his finger. “If I wasn’t there you wouldn’t be in this position.”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing serious.” he said, equally quiet.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, tilting your head to the side slightly as you stared into his gold eyes.

Tsukishima could feel the blush rising in his face, you were just too cute. The way you looked concerned about him. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

“It might hurt less if you kiss it better.” he said. He couldn’t resist, this situation was incredibly ideal to him.

You looked incredibly confused for a moment before taking his hand and gently pressing your lips against the tip of his injured finger.

Tsukishima felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, his face burning at the sweet gesture. And even though his finger was wrapped up, he just knew that your lips were incredibly soft. His other hand came up to press against his face, the backside of his hand covering the lower part of his face in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” you asked frowning, you had just done what he had said. Your heart was racing for some reason though, you weren’t sure why.

Tsukishima couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed your wrist and tugged, pulling you into his chest, and then flipping you over onto the bed, his upper body hovering over yours.

Your face was completely red, you thought your heart was about to pop, he was way too close and his face held nothing but seriousness.

What did you do?

“Tsukishima-” “Quiet.” he demanded.

You snapped your jaw shut.

You watched him take a deep breath in before speaking. “You are the most infuriating person I know. You’re stupid and you don’t pay attention to what’s going on right in front of your face.”

Your nostrils flared slightly in anger. “Well right back at you asshole!” you grumbled back.

He rolled his eyes and moved his face closer to your own, causing you to quiet down once more.

“But despite how incredibly dense you are, you’re smart, you’re witty, you’re stubborn, you’re hardworking, you’re pretty -”

You have never been more confused in your entire life. Did he just insult you and then compliment you? Did he just call you pretty?

“ - and I literally can’t take this anymore.” he pushed up his glasses just a bit. “I’ve given you so many hints, made it so ridiculously obvious, and you still don’t understand you dimwit.”

You frowned further at his insults.

“I like you.” He said, “I’ve liked you for a while now. You just have never noticed. I want you to go out with me.”

He couldn’t handle the shy expression on your face after his confession. The soft look on your face, and the dark red blush coating your cheeks. His eyes flickered towards your lips, and he started to lean closer. Your soft hands came up and gently rested against his chest, but you never pushed him away. Your eyes fluttered shut as you prepared yourself for what was about to come next.

You could feel his breath hitting your face gently, causing your lips to part as you readied yourself -

“Tsukishima! Everyone wanted me to go check on you and -” the door opened suddenly, and Hinata stood staring at the scene before him.

Tsukishima whipped his head around with a hard glare at the orange haired male who had gone pale, and then had turned dramatically red at the sight before him.

You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment at the position you and Tsukishima were in.

“I-I’m so sorry for interrupting!” Hinata screamed and slammed the door.

Tsukishima sighed, deflating slightly before removing himself from on top of you. He ignored the blush in his face as he stood up, looking back at you still laying on the bed.

So incredibly tempting.

“Wait for me after practice. We can walk home together.” He said simply before leaving the infirmary.

Did you… did you just get yourself a boyfriend?

You hoped so.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #tsukki #one shot #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima kei x reader #reader insert #request #requests are welcome #haikyuu tsukishima

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trulymadlysydney · 4 years ago

Text

Scorpio Season: One

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It had started with a simple knock on her bedroom door.

Misty Garland was sitting and reading on her bed the first time she’d heard it. It was a windy fall day, the slightest bit of sun poking through the clouds every so often. Her sorority sisters had thought it was the perfect weather to go day-drink over at the Kappa house. Misty thought she would rather die.

Her knee-jerk reaction had been to call out a soft “Come in!” to the knocking visitor. But it wasn’t until after the words left her lips that it hit her-- she was home alone.

It wasn’t something that could be passed off as the creaking of the walls of the old house, or the knocking of a branch against the window. No, it was a clear, distinct knock, as if someone were trying to get her attention.

Intrigued, she’d set her book down and padded barefoot across the floor. “Hello?” She’d called out half-heartedly, knowing perfectly well that it was in vain. Cautiously, she’d turned the gold knob and pushed her squeaking door open, only to be met with an empty hallway. Just as she’d expected.

It should have worried her. She should’ve been frightened or at the very least, slightly alarmed. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t any of those things.

If anything, she was intrigued.

A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped out into the hallway. One half of her brain reminded her that this could very well be one of her sisters who’d chosen to stay home instead of blacking out on Strawberitas and Jungle Juice with creepy guys. If that were the case, however annoying it would be, she decided she’d laugh it off. Chalk it up to a harmless, albeit immature prank. She’d get whoever it was back, in tenfold.

However, that was not the case.

After searching the entire house top to bottom, (even going so far as to enter all of her sister’s rooms uninvited) Misty came to the equally exciting and somewhat disconcerting conclusion that she was, in fact, home alone.

For the rest of the evening, she waited for a second knock that never came. She spoke, whispered, even shouted into the void, calling upon whatever dark spirit that had seemingly taken up temporary residence in her sorority home.

When only half of her sisters returned home that evening (with the other half apparently electing to stay with their respective boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, etc) she’d gone back and forth debating if she should mention it to anyone. Ultimately, however, she’d decided that explaining it was not a good use of her time. So she’d gone to bed early, hoping to hear another knock.

Another knock never came.

It was about a week later that her attention was caught again. It wasn’t from a knocking, but from a gentle thud against the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

Misty had been in the kitchen, washing the dishes that had been slowly accumulating in her room for the past few nights of mid study-sesh snacks. The house was fairly quiet that evening, save for the television in the living room and the chattering of gigging girls in the dining room-- obviously doing more chit-chatting than studying.

She’d been zoned out, lost deep in her thoughts when she’d heard it. Something in the pantry had fallen. Assuming it was a clumsy sister, she’d turned around to help clean up-- only to find that no one had been there at all.

There it was, though-- a loaf of bread that had fallen from the top shelf and landed in a spot that, according to physics, it wouldn’t have logically been able to land.

Misty glanced around the kitchen nervously, unsure of whether or not she should even dare touch the bread. She cleared her throat, becoming more and more aware of the lump growing there. She willed her brain to come up with something to say, anything, but all she could force out of her mouth was, “I… who…?”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what type of response she was expecting, so she wasn’t surprised when she was met with none at all. Her eyes had darted between the bread and the sink, which she’d left running, as her brain tried with all of its might to explain this situation in a logical manner.

She held her breath, waiting to see if it would move again while her heart pounded loudly in her ears. There was no way she could have imagined this, because there it sat, plain as the nose on her face. With a deep breath and another hurried glance around the room, Misty took a step forward, slower than she’d ever moved in her life. She craned her neck to see if there was anyone in the pantry (of course there wasn’t) and willed her heart to stop thumping so loudly. Surely there had to be an explanation for this. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe she had left a window open and it was windy outside.

A loud laugh came from the dining room then, nearly startling Misty out of her skin. She gasped, whirling around only to quickly realize that the sound was no more than a sister, laughing at a joke presented by another sister. Because of course.

Misty sighed, shaking her head at herself and rolling her eyes at how jumpy she was. For heaven’s sake, it was just a loaf of bread.

She walked to the bread, picking it up to return it to its rightful home in the pantry and allowing herself no further thoughts about the incident. Whatever it was, there was no logical explanation. And some things, Misty thought, were just better off that way. She was comfortable not knowing what had caused the bread to fall. Maybe she would never know. And she was okay with that.

Or so she thought.

The final time Misty had heard it had been the most prominent sign, and the one thing that had tipped her over the edge. It was a night not unlike any other, and Misty was tucked up into bed. She’d elected to keep the window open while she slept, because the weather that day had been perfect-- not hot, but not too chilly either. The perfect weather to cuddle up under a blanket. Misty loved it.

So there she was, nightlight on and covers pulled up to her ears. The sheets smelled like the lavender spray she spritzed all over her bed each night, and although it was familiar and comforting, she couldn’t help but notice that tonight smelled slightly different. The sheets smelled almost spicy, like cinnamon, and although it seemed a bit odd, Misty didn’t spare much more of a thought about it as she yawned most ungracefully.

In the spot between sleep and consciousness, Misty’s ears buzzed. She could feel herself slipping into fully numbed relaxation, her thoughts coming in and out of focus like waves. She knew she was about to be pulled completely under and slip into a dream that was already beginning to form in her brain… and then she heard it.

“Misty.”

Loud and clear.

Immediately, her eyes shot open. As her full consciousness came quickly back to her, she sat up in her bed, eyes scanning the dimly lit room for the source of the voice. Her blood ran cold as she waited in anticipation to see something-- a shadow, a full figure, anything-- but as she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn’t tell whether she was terrified, relieved, or annoyed to be met with absolutely nothing.

“Is someone there?”

The only sound she was met with was her own breathing, and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Look, I know you’re here,” she said slowly, absentmindedly fidgeting with the sheets as she waited for a response. “And I’m… not scared of you.”

It wasn’t really a lie, of course; she wasn’t scared so much as intrigued. Truthfully, even as a little girl this sort of thing had always fascinated her. She’d always felt she had a special and strange connection to the other side. But it had been ages since she’d really tapped into it, and now that she was practically face to face (so to speak) with what she assumed--and hoped-- was a spirit, she was feeling, at the very least, overwhelmed.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, voice a bit louder than before. “I’m not scared.” Nothing. “You’ve been messing with me for like, a while now. And I want you to know I hear you.” Nothing. “You don’t have to hide yourself.”

And still, nothing.

Misty sighed. “You know, I think it’s pretty rude of you to not introduce yourself. You just show up and wake me up when I’m almost asleep and then ignore me? You throw stuff around, you knock on the walls and the doors and stuff, and for what? Just so you can get a laugh?”

When she was met once again with the deafening sound of silence, she rolled her eyes. Misty reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes with a finger and gave her room one last scan before speaking again. “I’ll get you to talk,” she says, “one way or another. Don’t think I won’t.”

Nothing.

“This is a threat.”

Nothing.

Misty shook her head, laying back down in her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. It really was a threat. She had read about ways to contact spirits her entire life, but she’d never actually been brave enough to try any of them. In fact, in all honesty, the thought of doing it now still scared her a bit. Nevertheless, this spirit intrigued her. And as Misty drifted somewhat uneasily into sleep once again, she went over the different ways she was going to try and contact them to know once and for all what it was they had to say.

Which is how Misty finds herself where she is now.

Currently, Misty sits alone in the attic of the old sorority house, setting up for a ritual that she’s never been brave enough to try. The attic is old and a bit stuffy, and Misty coughs as she crawls along the dusty floor into the center of a circle of unlit candles. In hindsight, Misty realizes that the ritual doesn’t really need to be performed up here, considering that she does have the entire house to herself this evening. Still, it seems fitting-- the perfect amount of spooky while still being in a somewhat well- lit and cozy area.

The sky outside is a dark blue, bright enough for her to be able to see her surroundings just barely; and as she glances around in the darkness, she notices that one of the candles in her circle is slightly out of place. She reaches forward to adjust the candle, then takes a deep breath in through her nose to steady and ground herself before reaching into her pocket for a small green lighter.

“Alright,” she says, reaching forward to begin lighting the candles one by one. “It’s just you and me here. And you will show yourself to me one way or another, alright? Nice and easy.”

As she works her way around the circle, lighting each and every candle, Misty prays that the spirit is a kind one. Maybe a sister from the very beginning of her sorority’s chapter. Maybe a lost child trying to find their way to the other side. Maybe--

“OW, fuck!” Misty yelps when she accidentally burns her finger lighting one of the last candles in the circle. She sticks the finger in her mouth to wet it, then pulls it out and shakes it violently, trying desperately to ease the pain.

Misty sighs in frustration at the slight inconvenience of her throbbing finger, then finishes lighting the final candle in the circle. She glances around, pleased with her work, before settling herself in the direct center of the candles, cross legged and as relaxed as she can possibly be.

She tries her hardest to calm her pounding heart. Everything she’d read online about this process had highly recommended getting a professional medium-- one who wasn’t going to get anxious and mess up the process. Misty, of course, did not have access to that. So here she is.

Taking another deep, slow breath-- in through her nose and out through her mouth-- Misty allows herself to sit in the stillness for a few beats. She feels her heart rate slow down, and she takes another breath. Reaching beside her quietly, so as not to disturb the peace that is washing over the room, she picks up one of the stones she’s brought up here for protection.

The small stone feels rough and cold in her hand, and she squints down at it to make sure it’s the stone she wanted. It’s light purple color tells her that it’s an amethyst, and she focuses intently on it for a few moments before taking another long breath-- in through her nose, out through her mouth.

Misty holds the amethyst in her palm, allowing herself to really observe the feeling of it. She focuses on the weight of the stone in her hand, and the way the cool, rocky underside feels against her sweaty palm. She tries to focus on the energy she can feel from the rock, envisioning it surrounded in a glowing white light. She stays like this for a while, and when she’s certain she can actually feel the warm light that she’s envisioning, she clears her throat gently and speaks.

“I dedicate this crystal to the highest good of all. May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lets her words hang in the air for a few moments before repeating them, three more times. After she’s certain her words have stuck, she slowly brings the stone up to her chest. She allows herself to pause, to really feel the faint thump of her heart and the jaggedness of the stone against her chest. She takes in another deep breath and closes her eyes.

“I program this crystal for clarity. For heightened intuition, for protection from evil. I program this crystal for open communication, and unclouded thoughts. I program this crystal for calmness.” With one last breath, she speaks her final words-- a repeat of an earlier sentence. “May it be used in light and love.”

Misty lowers the crystal then, placing it in front of her in a spot where she can always see it out of the corner of her eye. Programming the crystal did help to ease her nerves, yes, but not entirely. Seeing it sitting in front of her in her little circle of candles does wonders, however, to remind her to stay calm, stay focused, and stay present.

So, shit, she thinks, she’s done everything she can at this point. Now it’s time for her to act.

Shot in the dark, she opens her mouth.

“If there is someone in here with me tonight,” she begins slowly, eyeing the room, “will you please show yourself?”

When she is met with silence, she sighs. “It’s just me here,” she says softly. “Just me. We have the whole house to ourselves. I just want to know who you are. If there’s something I can help you with.”

Misty pauses, and goes to open her mouth to speak again when she sees it. The gentle flutter of only one of the flames. If she’d have blinked, she would’ve missed it-- but there it is. A little wiggle of the flame that deviates from the gentle flicker of the others. Misty smiles, and lets out a little surprised breath.

“Was that you?” she asks, then pauses. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath as she watches the flame intently, and when it flickers abnormally again she lets out a pleased laugh.

“I see,” she says, unable to hide the smile on her face and the pounding of her heart. “That was easier than i thought it was going to be. Are you the spirit that’s been messing with me?”

There’s a brief pause, and then the candle flickers again. Misty can hardly believe her eyes. “I knew it,” she says, more to herself than to the spirit. She scrambles to think of the next question she’s going to ask, because she wants to hold the spirit’s attention as long as she possibly can.

“Can you do something else to show me you’re here? Maybe like… move two flames instead of just the one?”

There are a few moments of silence, and Misty almost worries that she’s asked too much of the spirit. She’s about to say a few words of encouragement, to remind the spirit that it’s only her and them in this room, when she sees it.

Every single flame flickers chaotically, in all different directions. Misty can hardly believe her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Holy shit.”

Misty swallows thickly as she ponders what exactly is happening. “Okay,” she says slowly. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

There is no response, but Misty thinks nothing of it. “Who are you?” she asks, then immediately rolls her eyes at herself. How is she expecting the spirit to identify themselves to her?

“Okay, don’t answer that,” she quickly adds. “Umm… how can I ask this?”

There’s a creak in the floor, as if someone were stepping closer to her, and it makes the hair on her arms stand up. She licks her lips as she tries to keep herself calm.

“Okay… um… are you a ghost? One flame for yes, two for no.”

She feels stupid for asking that, but she isn’t really sure how else to ask. She stares at the candles almost a little too intently, and scoffs when one of the flames flickers.

“Should’ve figured that,” she mutters, “sorry.”

Misty notices that one of the candles is slightly out of place, and she reaches forward to adjust it. Just as she does, however, she is overcome with the sense of feeling insanely cold. She gasps, retracting her hand quickly, and the air in the room becomes tense.

She clears her throat as she processes what she just felt. “Was that you?”

There is no response, but the thickness of the air does resolve a bit. Misty settles appprehensively back down into her comfortable position before changing the subject.

“How long have you been dead?” she tries.

There’s a brief moment, and she considers rewording her question, when she notices that four different flames flicker in succession, one right after the other. “I see…” she says, “So four years then?”

There is no response, and Misty thinks about their answer. “That’s not very long,” she says, frowning. “This must be a pretty fresh death, no? I’m sorry.”

One of the flames wiggles, almost sympathetically, and it makes Misty giggle. In all honesty, she’s feeling completely comfortable with this spirit.

“Look,” she says, relaxing her posture a bit. “I wish I was better at this. Truth be told, I’ve never really…. talked to a ghost before? So like, I hope I’m doing this right. I wish I had a better communication system though.”

The flame that wiggled gently before suddenly begins to shake with more vigor, burning brighter and somewhat bigger than it had before. This catches Misty’s attention.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” She asks, and the flame grows slightly larger.

“You’re free to say it,” she says, moving to tuck her knees under her butt. “Like I said, it’s just you and me in here.” She watches the flame dance, enthralled and fascinated by its movement.

“Why me?” she asks, and another flame begins wiggling violently as well. “I mean… why have you contacted me? Surely you have something to say.”

A third flame begins shaking, and Misty is growing a bit anxious. “I know you have a voice,” she says, her own voice a bit louder now. “I’ve heard it. You woke me up the other night.”

Misty’s eyes dart from one flame to the next, willing herself not to panic at the way the flames seem rather large. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the reflection of the flames on the glassy edges of her amethyst, and she thinks perhaps she should reach for it to remind her to stay grounded, stay calm, stay focused.

Just as she raises her hand to reach for it, however, a fourth flame grows larger in size.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she asks, growing a bit frustrated. “I don’t know how else to help you other than--”

Misty is cut off when she sees the amethyst move, ever so slightly. She freezes in her tracks.

She wants to pass that off as a trick of the lights, but there’s no way she can. She saw it move, plain and simple. Not to mention she’d heard the soft scratching of the stone moving against the wooden floor.

When Misty looks up, almost all of the candles are flickering aggressively. She gasps, completely panicked now.

“Show yourself!” she blurts out. “I know you’re here, I know you have something to say!”

She watches the flames intensify, and she almost considers abandoning this entire mission and blowing them all out right here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Just… say something!”

In somewhat of a trance by the way the candle lights flicker, Misty feels her heart rate increase as she stays stuck, frozen against the wooden floor. That same smell of cinnamon as before fills her nose, and she swallows thickly around a dry throat. “I--” she nearly chokes on her words. “Why are you trying to scare me?” she shouts. “I said, say something!”

Still nothing. Now she’s growing increasingly more impatient.

And then it happens.

With a sudden gust of air Misty is shoved, and all of the air in her lungs is let out with a forceful grunt. The candles are extinguished all at once, and the room instantly grows a stuffy sort of dark. The moon shining brightly in the window somehow fills Misty’s stomach with anxiety and dread, not relief. She swallows thickly, taking a few moments to gather her wits and straining her eyes against the thick blackness surrounding her.

The stillness of the room is alarming, and Misty’s heart pounds aggressively against her rib cage. It isn’t until her lungs start burning that she realizes she’s been holding her breath for fear of breaking the silence, and she lets it out slowly and cautiously.

With a shaky hand she reaches forward until she feels her lighter once again, and she flicks it on. She can hardly see in the dimly lit room, but her eyes begin to adjust, and she glances around herself nervously. “Who are you?”

“It’s about time, sunshine.”

The voice comes from behind her and startles her so much that she jumps, flinging the lighter halfway across the floor and bathing the room in darkness once again. Shit.

“Ohh,” coos the voice, deep but unthreatening. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here.”

Misty feels a brush of cold air that causes the hairs on her arms to stand up before, one by one, each candle in the room flickers alive once again. Her jaw trembles as she tries to find the source of the voice in the now illuminated room.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” the voice says again, now coming from a different direction.

“I wasn’t,” she says, then swallows around the dryness of her throat. “I’m not.” It’s a complete lie, but she doesn’t want to let her guard down now.

The voice is raspy and deep, but friendly, and a thick, honey drip of a british accent coats the noise sweetly. “That’s a lie,” it says, and it sounds like a man. A pouty man at that. “You weren’t so afraid of me before. Now you’re shaking.”

“You just startled me, that’s all. Where are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to show you if you’re going to be scared.”

Somehow, his words aren’t comforting. Still, Misty isn’t a quitter. “What is there to be scared of? Are you a ghost?”

“I am.”

She smirks. “Are you an ugly ghost?”

This time, he scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Well!” Misty says. “Someone’s full of himself, isn’t he?”

“I’m not!” he insists, and he sounds closer now. “It’s just that you spoke a big game before. Now I’m not so sure you’re ready for this after all.”

Misty sighs, growing increasingly more irritated by the second. “If I wasn’t ready for this, I wouldn’t have summoned you. I thought you were intriguing before. Now you’re just annoying.” She moves like she’s going to stand, and suddenly feels another gust of cold air on her arm.

“Wait!” He sounds as though he’s right in front of her now, and she’s overwhelmed by his cinnamon scent. “I’m not trying to be annoying. I just… want to make sure you’re ready for this.”

“I told you I am,” Misty huffs. She gestures vaguely around the room. “Your words are scaring me more than any of this did. Why wouldn’t I be ready to see you?”

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “Just… sometimes people don’t know how to respond when they see their first manifestation.”

“I’ve seen a ghost before, dude.”

Now, it’s his turn to sound intrigued. “Have you?”

“M-hm. I’ve always been able to sense these kinds of things.”

“But have you seen one?”

“Shadows mostly. Or I heard voices.”

“But a physical manifestation--”

“You don’t count shadows?”

“Of course I do.” There’s a noise, and it sounds as if the spirit has just sat down. “But I’m not a shadow.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a different type of ghost. Did you know there are several types?”

Misty leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I mean yeah, of course, but I had always just assumed you all showed yourselves as shadows.”

“Not all of us. I mean, we can-- but it isn’t natural for me. I’m not sure we’ve got an actual name for me, but there are many out there like me. We’re a certain type of intelligent ghost that can physically interact with the linear time and space around us. Usually we’re harmless.”

“Are you harmless?”

Once again, she can practically hear the spirit’s smile. “Usually.”

“So… when I see you, you’ll look like, what, just a regular dude?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Why are you hyping this up so much?”

“I don’t know! It’s been a long time since I’ve manifested in front of someone!”

“Ah.” Misty grins. “So you’re the one who isn’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s why you’ve been stalling for so long. You wanted my attention so badly, and now you’ve got it. So show yourself.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “There’s no need to be pushy.”

Silence follows his words, and Misty stares blankly ahead-- waiting for something to happen. She shakes her head slowly and shrugs. “I don’t…. Get it....”

“Turn around.”

Once again, Misty jumps out of pure surprise when the spirit’s voice comes from behind her. She whirls around almost too quickly, nearly losing her balance despite being seated. The minute she sees him standing calmly behind her, she rises.

She takes a moment to really just look at him. She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting; maybe a glowing transparent blob of a young man from the early 1900s, or, worst case scenario, a perfectly normal looking guy who just happened to have a very visible axe lodged into his brain (or some other indication of his death)-- but in any case, he doesn’t look like anything she’d been anticipating. He looks like any other guy she’d see walking around on campus, and if it weren’t for the hardly visible glow outlining his body, she’d assume this was a new Kappa pledge pulling a prank on her as part of his hazing.

He’s got shaggy brown hair that hangs from his head in curls that frame his face and his ears. His eyes are blue-- or are they green? Misty isn’t close enough to be able to tell, and truthfully she’s still a bit apprehensive about befriending a dead guy, so she stays put. Whatever color they are though, they’re beautiful. He’s not floating-- she doesn’t know why she’d been expecting him to-- but standing flat on his feet he’s still taller than her. He’s one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen, and it makes her feel faint (although she blames that on the fact that she’s face to face with someone who’s died).

“I’m Harry,” he says slowly. He’s calm, but he’s unsure. He watches her as if waiting for some type of earth-shattering reaction. The less she moves, the more nervous he becomes. When she doesn’t say anything, he speaks again. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

For someone who isn’t alive-- Misty can’t seem to get over that fact-- he dresses remarkably well. He honestly does look like a Kappa brother, and it weirds her out.

“How did you do that?” She frowns at herself. That was the first thing she could think to say?

Harry laughs, relieved that she’s seemingly so calm. He shrugs. “Dunno. Just something I can do.” He takes a step towards her and, instinctively, Misty takes half a step back.

This time, Harry smirks, but he doesn’t move closer. “Are you still scared?”

“I was never scared!” Misty groans.

“Just startled then.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and now Misty can see that they’re clearly green.

Misty rolls her eyes. It’s impossible to stay annoyed at him when he’s looking at her like this. “Fine!” she sighs. “I’m a little scared.”

“Ha!” Harry beams jubilantly. The smile fades just as quickly as it came, however, and he frowns. “Why are you still scared?”

“I don’t know! I’ve just never done this before.”

The bright smile returns to his face, softer this time, and Misty-- though still apprehensive-- relaxes a bit. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently.

“I didn’t think you were,” Misty replies. “But I also don’t know why you wanted my attention so badly.”

Harry shrugs. “Because. I think you’re pretty.”

It’s so straightforward that Misty is taken aback, and she scoffs. “What, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Harry blinks back at her, standing by his words completely and keeping that air of smugness about him.

Misty waits for a further explanation, but when Harry only stares back at her and raises his eyebrows, she realizes that she isn’t getting one. She laughs in disbelief. “So you went through all this trouble…. Just to tell me I’m pretty?”

“Suppose so.” Harry’s head cocks a bit to the left, and it’s the first time that Misty notices the endearing little dimple on his cheek. She doesn’t know why he flusters her so badly, but she feels her cheeks heating up when she realizes that yes, he’s telling the truth. He really did just want to tell her she was pretty.

Misty’s hand comes up to comb through her hair and she swallows thickly. “Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward, but it’s tense. The air is thick with tension, in fact, and Misty wonders if it’s possible to flirt with a ghost.

Harry clears his throat. “Anyway. If you want me to leave you alone--”

“No!” Misty responds, almost too quickly. “I don’t. Not at all.”

“You don’t?” Harry beams back at her, and Misty realizes that he really is just as nervous as she is.

“I don’t,” she replies. “But, I mean-- are you just gonna live here from now on? In the attic?”

Harry laughs, a tinkling noise that sends butterflies straight to the pit of Misty’s belly. “I live in this house one way or another. Have for several years. It’s just that I can only show myself at a certain time of year.”

“But why is that?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Harry laughs, taking another cautious step towards Misty. When she doesn’t retreat, he relaxes and fully closes the gap between them. Once again, the smell of cinnamon fills Misty’s nose. Slowly and decidedly, Harry reaches forward to touch her arm and the instant his hand comes in contact with her skin, she is flooded with goosebumps.

His skin is cold, but not as cold as she was expecting. Although honestly, she wasn’t expecting to be able to make tangible contact with him at all. But she can feel it so clearly-- five fingertips trailing comfortingly along the skin of her arm with the gentleness and intention of a lover. Five perfectly groomed fingernails that show no indication of death. Standing this close to him, she can make out the details of his face; a little scar on his neck, a small freckle on his lip, soft smile lines around his eyes. Misty shivers-- partly because of the coldness of his touch, but mostly because it’s been ages since she’s stood this close to someone so beautiful.

His fingers trail down to her hand, and then more specifically, the one finger she burned. She’s almost in a trance as he brushes his cold fingers against the stinging patch of skin, and in an instant any pain she felt in the throbbing finger is now gone.

Misty glances from her finger, then back to Harry, who’s smiling the most tender smile she’s ever seen. “How…?” She begins slowly.

Harry lets out a sigh, and Misty realizes they’ve just been staring at one another. “Don’t worry about it, sunshine.”

Misty practically melts into his touch, and she isn’t sure if he’s got a spell on her or what, but she has the overwhelming urge to kiss him now. She swallows, then opens her mouth to speak before Harry cuts her off. “Your sisters are home.”

“What?”

She doesn’t have time for answers, however, when through the attic window she sees the blue mini cooper of one of her sorority sisters pull up to the curb. She watches the car for a moment. “How did you--”

But when she turns to finish her question, Harry is gone.

------

The following day, Misty finds herself bundled up and sitting in her favorite spot on campus, despite the chill in the air. She’s sitting on the cold grass against a large rock, overlooking a tiny stream that runs throughout the entire small town. She knows it won’t be long before the stream freezes over, so, despite the cold weather, she’s brought herself here to read and listen to the babbling water while she still can.

Harry hadn’t showed up for the rest of the night last night, which had led Misty to wonder if she’d dreamt the entire thing. It had kept her up most of the night, and when he still hadn’t appeared this morning, she knew she had to do something to get her mind off of him.

Which is how she’s found herself here now. Most of her homework for the week is done, so she’s decided to spoil herself by grabbing her favorite coffee at the shop she frequents and a new book at the library before heading to her spot.

It’s a brisk October day, and the Halloween decorations hanging from the campus houses flutter in the chilly wind. Misty wraps her scarf a little tighter around her neck and snuggles further into her coat as she turns the page of her book.

“There you are.”

Misty jumps, nearly spilling her coffee, when she hears it. The thick, British drawl she’s been so desperately craving to hear all morning comes from behind her, and she whirls around to see Harry, in the exact same outfit he’d been in last night, smirking at her.

“Stop doing that!” she hisses. Despite her grumpy tone, she scoots over when Harry makes his way to sit beside her. She feels immediately comforted when she smells the cinnamon that comes with his presence.

Harry chuckles, plopping into the grass. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” Misty huffs, putting her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place.

The smirk on Harry’s face is so smug that Misty wants to slap it off of him. “You’ve been expecting me?”

This throws Misty off guard, and her cheeks go hot. “Well, yeah,” she says, trying to maintain her attitude. “I mean, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

Harry laughs. “No, I don’t.”

“Seriously?” Misty rolls her eyes. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Not a person,” Harry states. “I’m a ghost.”

“Well whatever you are, you’re annoying.”

“Thank you.” Harry nods towards the book in her hands. “What are you reading?”

Misty doesn’t answer him, suddenly far more self-conscious than she’d been before. He reaches out to take the book and pulls it closer to himself to read the title aloud.

“‘When Ghosts Speak: Understanding the World of Earthbound Spirits.’” He snorts. “Seriously?”

“Well if you won’t tell me anything, I have to figure it out myself.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” Harry says, relaxing against the rock and stretching his feet out in front of him. “Fire away.”

Misty eyes him for a moment. “You’re not kidding?”

“I’m an open book.”

She takes his sudden burst of confident vulnerability and considers the questions she wants to ask. There had been so many in her head since he’d disappeared last night, but now that she’s on the spot, she’s blanking.

Misty clears her throat. “Alright. I’ll start off easy. How are you here?”

Harry smiles. “I can go anywhere I want to. Just like you.”

“Can anyone else see you?”

“If I wanted them to. But I don’t.”

Misty looks around, suddenly nervous that anyone nearby might hear her speaking and think she’s talking to herself. Luckily, she seems to be the only person crazy enough to willingly subject herself to this weather. So she turns back to Harry.

“So then why did you wait for me to summon you? Why didn’t you just show yourself?”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Harry responds. “I can only manifest during a certain time period every year. But in order to manifest at all, I have to be invited first. After I accept the invitation, I’m free to come and go as I please until the end of the season.”

“So you’re going to be a pest for this entire fall then?” Despite her words, Misty smirks.

Harry matches her wit and chuckles. “No, not that kind of season. Scorpio season.”

“Oh god,” Misty groans. “You’re an astrology freak, aren’t you?”

Harry snorts. “Look, I didn’t make the rules. That’s just the way it is. When Scorpio season starts, I can show myself. When it ends, I leave.”

“Where do you go? When it ends, I mean.”

Harry shrugs. “I dunno. Nowhere bad. It’s just kinda… nothing. I can’t explain it.”

“Is it scary?”

Harry considers her words, then shakes his head. “I… really can’t explain it. It’s not scary. It goes by fast. I just kind of… sleep, I guess. Nothingness.” A sudden thought dawns on him, like he’s remembering something. “But! I can pop into people’s dreams while I’m there.”

“You can?”

“Yup. I don’t do it too often, just because it takes a lot of my energy, but I’ve seen some pretty interesting things, I’ll tell you that.”

Misty doesn’t say anything, and Harry lets her sit in silence while she processes his words. He knows it’s a lot, and he knows he would be weirded out if he were in her shoes. So he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Finally, she turns to him. She doesn’t look nervous, but something is on her mind. “Can I ask you something… a little more personal?”

“Anything.”

“Okay.” Misty takes a deep breath, focusing her attention on the birds hopping around nearby. “How did you… die?”

“How did I die?” Harry repeats her question, then blows out all of his air in a puff. “It’s not anything exciting.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just--”

“No, no!” Harry holds up his hand. “I don’t mind. It’s just… anticlimactic I suppose. And you’re probably going to laugh.”

Misty leans closer, a serious look spreading across her face. “I wouldn’t dare laugh about someone’s death.”

“No, you will,” Harry says, smiling to himself. “It’s kinda funny.” He takes a deep breath, preparing to tell the story. “I fell off the roof of your house.”

Harry laughs, but Misty doesn’t find it funny at all. “That’s horrible, Harry. How did you--”

“While having sex.”

Misty stops her sentence dead in its tracks, and a new look of pure surprise blossoms on her face. “You…”

Harry sighs, launching into the story. “A few years ago, your sorority was throwing a Halloween party. I wasn’t into Greek life but a few of my mates dragged me along. I was already pretty drunk by the time we got there, right, so all bets were off. Well, I met this girl, right? Never even learned her bloody name, but I guess she was a sister. Made eyes at me from across the room and it was over. Drank some more, chatted her up, and then we decided ‘hey, might as well.’ Only, all of the bedrooms were taken. So then, she had the brilliant idea to go up on the roof. It was raining so, you know, in hindsight we should’ve known better. But we were drunk and horny and stupid. So we went up, started going at it, slipped, and uh… splat. So to speak.”

Misty doesn’t know how to respond, and Harry doesn’t expect her to. He just chuckles. “Found me with my pants around my bloody ankles,” he continues. “ Not a very dignified way to go is it?”

“That’s awful.” Misty frowns.

“Eh. What can you do? Apparently the girl lived but she felt so guilty that she dropped out of school and moved away. I guess no one’s heard from her since.”

“You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”

“Oh, nah. No way. It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry to make you talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Harry replies. “All I can do is laugh about it at this point.”

“Well,” Misty says, shifting her position against the rock. “I still don’t think it’s funny.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Can I ask you something else?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Mm?”

“Why me? Like, what was it about me that made you decide ‘Ah, yeah, she’s the one I’m gonna haunt?’”

Harry smiles, crossing his foot over his opposite leg and resting his ankle to his knee. He gives her question a moment of thought before responding. “Told you. Think you’re pretty.”

Misty rolls her eyes but the smile that forms on her lips is undeniable. “That’s seriously it?”

“I mean,” Harry says slowly, absentmindedly shaking his foot back and forth. “Yeah. Been stuck at that house for the past, what, four Scorpio seasons now? You’re the first girl I’ve seen who’s caught my attention.”

“Ew, so you like, spy on us?”

Harry snorts. “No, god, I’m not a perv. But, you know, I live there, too, so. Sometimes I’ll join in for movie night. Or game night. I also pop in to the occasional party. But I don’t spy.”

“Good,” Misty says. “Although I don’t even think you’d find anything juicy anyway. They’re a bunch of duds.”

“Can I ask you something now?” Harry’s got an intrigued smile on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you join a sorority? You seem to hate everything about it.”

Misty sighs. “I don’t hate it,” she says slowly. “I mean, it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice for like, extra-curricular activities.”

“So why then?”

“I’m a legacy,” she replies. “My mom and my grandma were both Beta Sigmas. They would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

“Is it really that serious to them?”

Misty smirks. “For someone who lives in a sorority house, you sure know nothing about sorority girls.”

Harry’s laugh is sudden and it makes Misty’s heart warm despite the coldness of his presence. “It would appear so. Jeez.”

The two fall silent for the next few moments, residual giggles dying off into happy sighs. It’s obvious that they both enjoy one another’s company, and Misty is ridiculously glad that he’s come back to check up on her today.

After about a minute of silence, however, another question pops into her head. “So. You’re a Scorpio then?”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not, no. Or, I wasn’t, when I was alive.”

“Why Scorpio season then?”

“Because it coincides with spooky season, I guess. Or maybe because I died at a Halloween party? I don’t know. I didn’t make it up.”

“What are you then? What’s your sign or whatever?”

Harry smirks. “Guess.”

“Taurus.”

He shakes his head. “Guess again.”

“Leo.”

Harry makes a face now. “No. God, a Leo? Who do you think I am?”

Misty giggles. “I don’t know! I don’t know shit about astrology!”

“Obviously.” Harry snorts. “I’m an Aquarius.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s the best.”

“Great.”

Harry giggles, letting the conversation naturally fizzle out before starting his next sentence. “Misty?”

It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name to her face, not just in her ear late at night while she’s trying to sleep, and it fills her with butterflies yet again. “Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re not, like, scared of me. Really glad.”

Misty giggles. “I am, too, honestly.”

“Even though you were scared in the beginning.”

Misty’s smile turns into a scowl, but there is still a playfulness in her eyes and in her tone that makes Harry laugh. “I wasn’t. I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Harry scoots the tiniest bit closer to Misty and nods at her book. “So. Tell me what’s going on in your book.”

-----

Harry just might be the most annoying person-- or rather, entity-- that Misty has ever come across in her entire life.

And she can’t get enough of him.

They’d spent a good portion of their days together throughout the past week, with Harry lingering around longer and longer each day. Misty didn’t mind, of course, and she welcomed his company. By the fourth day of spending time together, they were chatting as if they were the best of friends. Misty had learned about Harry’s life prior to coming to this school, about his mom and his sister and how he checked in on them via their dreams whenever he could. She learned about what he’d been studying prior to his death, and what he wanted to do with that degree. And Harry answered each and every one of her questions with patience (and usually a snarky remark), which Misty loved.

In turn, Harry had learned much of the same information about Misty’s life, and he found her fascinating. He asked her just as many questions as she asked him, and whenever she called for him, he showed up. He loved it every time.

He’d manifested in the kitchen this morning as she was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and he’d followed her around like a child while she tried to find something decent for breakfast. She hadn’t acknowledged him much, for fear of any of the other girls noticing, but she did manage to sneak him a few sleepy grins that he found himself melting for every time.

He’d then followed her up to her room, where he chatted with her while she crunched away at a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. They’d discussed her plans for the day and he’d asked her if he could stay with her (although truth be told, he didn’t really have to ask; he knew she’d say yes anyway).

It hadn’t been a very busy day by any means. Misty had had a few errands to run (which Harry had found unbelievably boring and dipped out of, promising her he’d be waiting for her at home). Presently, Misty finds herself sitting on her bed, laptop resting comfortably on her thighs, while she types away at a book report that she has due at midnight.

Harry had offered her his help, which she’d taken him up on, but Misty soon came to find out that the word ‘help’ in his case was used very loosely. Harry had elected instead to continuously chat and distract Misty, and each distraction was met with a protest from her… as well as her deepest insight on whatever topic Harry had decided to bring up. Truth be told, Misty welcomed the distraction. She loved picking his brain, and he hers.

Currently, Misty types away mindlessly, while Harry sits quietly at the foot of her bed flipping through one of Misty’s old yearbooks. Every now and again he’ll marvel at something in the yearbook, or he’ll tease Misty about her braces or tell her she looked cute during spirit week. “‘Nerd Day’ huh? Suits you.”

After Harry has been particularly quiet for a while, however, Misty starts to get suspicious.

She glances up from her work to find Harry staring at her, a mischievous grin that she hates to love tugging at his cheeks.

“What?” she says, subconsciously squirming under his gaze.

He only blinks, hardly bothering to look away or wipe the smirk from his face. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Don’t know if I should say…”

This makes Misty’s cheeks grow hot, though she tries her hardest to cover it up. “Harry don’t be an idiot.”

Harry chuckles, using his finger to mark the page of Misty’s yearbook that he’s currently on. “It’s nothing bad,” he says casually. “It’s fine.”

“Then stop staring at me,” Misty says with a smile. “Creep. If you have something to say then say it.”

Harry grins, reaching down to wiggle his fingers against the underside of her foot. “I do, actually. I have an idea.”

Misty lowers her laptop screen just a tad so she can see him better before speaking. “What kind of idea?”

The smile on her face and the narrowing of her eyes tells Harry that she’s in before she even knows his idea, and he has to contain his giggles as he speaks.

“You wanna play a prank on your sisters?” He asks. “Just to spook them a bit. ‘Tis the season and all that.”

“What kind of a prank?” Misty sits up, leaning closer to Harry and lowering her voice excitedly.

“I don’t know,” Harry says, “maybe like… I could throw some stuff around. Make a few noises. Pretend to possess you.”

Immediately, Misty is intrigued. She gently tosses the laptop to the side and beams. “Shit, you think we should?”

“I do,” Harry says, a twinkle already forming in his eye. “Obviously we’ll have to work out the details, but yeah. Something like that.”

“Pretend to possess me,” Misty says, “do it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Someone’s a bit eager, aren’t they?”

Misty rolls her eyes, but the embarrassed little smirk on her lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. “Not like that,” she says, then tacks on a mumbled and affectionate “stupid.”

“Not like what?” Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, purposely making Misty squirm. She laughs and tosses a pillow at his face.

“Nevermind,” she says through a grin, “I don’t even want to do this anymore.”

“Liar,” Harry says.

“Brat,” Misty replies.

Harry’s eyes twinkle. “I take it that you’re in, then.”

“I guess,” Misty says. “Don’t look so smug.”

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me,” Harry says casually, and it takes Misty a moment to even register what he’s said.

Misty feels the heat rising in her cheeks at his words, and as flustered as he’s made her, she bounces back quickly. “I must be adorable all the time then.”

Harry shrugs. “You said it, not me.”

“Anyway,” Misty says, desperately trying to change the subject to cover up how giddy he’s making her, “what did you actually have in mind?”

Harry smirks. “How good are your acting skills?”

---

Coincidentally, tonight is movie night among a few of the girls and their boyfriends. Which, Misty and Harry had quickly realized, was the perfect setting to execute their plan.

It’s 8:30pm, and Misty is sitting on the couch under a blanket, snuggled between a few other sisters. There are sisters scattered around the entire living room, some cuddled up with their respective partners and some without. Everyone has alcohol of some sort; Misty herself is about a glass and a half of wine in, and she’s actively trying to ignore the thoughts about how badly she wishes Harry were sitting beside her on the couch.

Especially since she’s the only one who can see him right now, sitting so casually in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the screen like everyone else’s, and looking so, so handsome.

If Misty didn’t know any better she would think he was just another one of the guys, and for a moment she allows herself to indulge in the make-believe world in which Harry is her boyfriend who has come over to join the girls for movie night. In her mind, he’s just gotten up to get Misty a bottle of water, but got so interested in the film that he ended up just sitting down to finish the scene.

It’s selfish, Misty knows. But seeing him like this, so casually cute, makes her heart hurt. Obviously she’s got things way easier than Harry, considering she is the only one between them with a beating heart. But she has to wonder if it gets lonely in his world. He can only visit his loved ones through dreams. He can only show himself for a month out of the year. Even now, he sits alone in the corner of the room, far from everyone else.

He had joked about it earlier, saying the reason he sat so far away from everyone was because the spot he was in gave him the best seat of the house every time. However, a few moments later he’d admitted that the actual reason was because he didn’t want to make anyone cold and ruin the fun. He’d given her a soft smile and brushed that statement off with yet another joke, but it had broken Misty’s heart.

As if sensing her thoughts, Harry turns just in time to catch Misty staring at him, and he grins immediately.

“Stop staring at me, creep.” He winks at her.

For a full five seconds, Misty is terrified that Harry’s just blown his own cover. She tenses up, glancing around the room in shock just waiting for someone to say something about hearing a voice. When she realizes, with confusion, that not a single person has moved, Harry speaks again.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hear me. Only you.”

Misty glances back at Harry, wanting to say something back but knowing she can’t, and he grins. “God, I bet it’s killing you, not being able to talk back to me. I could have some fun with this.”

When Misty shoots a subtle glare in Harry’s direction, he gasps. “If looks could kill,” he says, shaking his head.

Misty wants to laugh and throw something at him and fight back but she knows she can’t, and he’s right, it is killing her. She cracks her neck gently from side to side, in an attempt to relax herself, and Harry laughs.

“Alright, I’ll have mercy. Are you ready to get started? Or are you super into the movie?”

Misty’s face goes into a completely deadpan expression as she glances at Harry, as if to say “really?” How on earth is she supposed to answer that?

“Oh,” Harry chuckles. “Uh, blink once if you want me to start.”

Misty blinks as subtly as she can while still trying to make her answer clear to Harry. He beams.

“Blink once if you think I’m hot.”

This time, Misty can’t control herself. She lets out an exasperated sigh that does, unfortunately, catch the attention of a few of her friends.

“You good?” The girl sitting beside her on the couch-- Kennedy-- laughs.

Before Misty even has time to respond, however, Harry swoops in and saves the day. He knocks hard, twice, on the wooden floor, and every head in the room turns.

There is an intense shift of energy once everyone realizes that there is nothing that could have possibly made that noise.

“Uhhh…???” Another sister, Rosie, speaks up, curling even further into her boyfriend.

“What the fuck was that dude?” Greg, one of the most unbearably fratty boys Misty has ever known, sits up.

And there sits Harry, smirking in the corner, obviously pleased with his work.

Misty realizes quickly that she can’t blow her own cover, so her face changes to one of apprehension and terror, mirroring everyone else’s. “Uhh… everyone heard that, right?”

“That was like, distinct!” Rosie says. “Like two deliberate knocks.”

All at once everyone starts talking over one another.

“What the fuck, dude--”

“Was it over in that corner?”

“Go check it out--”

“No you go check it out!”

“Was it one knock or two?”

“You guys, what the fuck was that?’

Misty glances at Harry, who is staring back at her expectantly, as if to ask if it’s okay if he makes the next move. Misty gives him a subtle nod, and Harry rises to his feet.

He walks gently along the wooden floor, making sure to get as close as possible to the people sitting scattered along it. He wants them to feel his presence, and each person has a different reaction.

It’s Luca, Rosie’s boyfriend, who says something first. “Wait, I’m not even kidding you, I’m cold as shit right now.”

Harry grins down at Luca, shooting Misty a wink. “Uh ohhhh,” Harry says softly. He reaches down to lightly tickle his fingers against the back of Luca’s neck, and Luca instantly shoots up onto his feet.

“Swear to GOD dude, something just fucking touched me!”

Rosie shoots to her feet as well, taking a step away from Luca. “Luca you better not be fucking around--”

“Why would I fuck around about that shit?” he asks, voice raising.

“Guys there has to be a logical explanation for this.” Kennedy speaks up, reaching for her drink on the table. “Like, it’s getting colder outside. Maybe there was a draft.”

Rosie sniffs the air a few times, then swallows. Misty has never seen anyone look so worried before in her life, and it makes her want to laugh. “Guys, I smell cinnamon.”

“Oops,” Harry says, turning to Misty. “Might’ve gotten a bit too close there.”

In an instant, Harry is out of Misty’s sight. But he manifests again in the back corner of the room and steps on a particularly creaky floor board, causing everyone’s heads to turn.

Harry observes the shocked looks on all of their faces, then gives Misty a shit eating grin. “I do that a lot, actually,” he says.

As if backing up his words, another sister, Angie, speaks up. “That’s the noise!” she says. “Lindsey and I were in here the other night and we heard it!”

“I’ve heard it too,” Kennedy says. “It happens like, all the time.”

“So you’re just like, not even scared?” Rosie asks, panic in her voice now. “You’re like, completely fine with it? Like it’s normal to you?”

“Misty.” Harry’s voice is now right in Misty’s ear, and it makes her jump. She can feel his cold presence against her skin, and his all too delicious spicy scent engulfs her. She shivers, but turns her head as if to let him know he’s got her attention.

“You ever seen the movie Beetlejuice?”

Misty giggles and nods subtly, glad that no one in the room is really paying attention to her right now.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckles against Misty’s skin. “Thinkin’ we could do somethin’ like that one scene.”

Misty doesn’t even have time to question what scene he’s even referring to, his coldness is gone just as quickly as it came. She turns around again, eyes scanning the room of her panicked classmates and sisters, before she finds him in the corner of the room, messing with an iphone that’s charging. He doesn’t pick it up, instead he just taps the screen. Luckily, the phone is unlocked.

“It’s 2020,” he mumbles, “Who doesn’t have a bloody passcode on their phone?”

The unlocking of the phone, however, does not go unnoticed.

It’s Rosie who points it out, because of course it is. “Guys,” she shrieks, “look at Greg’s phone!”

All eyes are on Harry-- or rather, the phone, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Shit,” he mutters, then looks up at Misty. “Ask them if they hear something.”

Misty wastes no time. “Guys… holy shit do you hear that?”

The room goes quiet, save for the movie that no one had bothered to pause. Lindsey scrambles for the remote and quickly mutes the television, and everyone is stock still.

“I don’t hear anything,” Rosie whispers, and Misty quickly cuts her off with a sharp “Shhh!”

She glances back over at Harry, hoping he has a plan. He doesn’t even look at her, he just continues scrolling through the phone with a concentrated frown on his face.

Greg rises to his feet and takes a cautious step towards his phone. “What the fuck--” he mumbles.

And then Harry nods, pushes a button, and everyone jumps as the opening bars of Tainted Love fill the room via the bluetooth speakers in the corner.

A small smirk begins growing on Harry’s face as he slowly rises from his squatted position beside the phone. “Ahh,” he says slowly. “An absolute classic.”

Everyone seems to be in shock at what’s happening, so no one moves or reaches for the phone to stop the music. Harry is beaming at Misty, and now she can’t even try to hide the smile on her face as he begins bopping towards her.

His shoulders are grooving along with the beat, and he does a silly side step type of jig in Greg’s direction that makes Misty almost lose her composure completely. He punches the air with each prominent beat, wiggling his hips closer to Greg.

“Get his phone, Misty,” Harry says quietly, continuing his slow dancing movements. “Don’t let anyone turn the song off.”

Just as Greg takes a step forward to get to his phone, Harry swoops in, taking both of Greg’s hands in his and dancing with him-- a very poor version of a ballroom dance.

Nearly everyone in the room shrieks. “Greg this isn’t funny!” Rosie squeals. “Knock it off!”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this!” Greg calls over his shoulder, as Harry spins him around the room.

Misty seizes this opportunity and makes a beeline for the phone, glad that everyone is too preoccupied watching Greg dance with a seemingly invisible partner. Harry, although focused on the dancing, keeps his eyes on her the entire time. When he sees her pick up the phone and subtly slip it into the pocket of her sweat pants, he grins. “Good girl.”

Misty tries to ignore how those words make her feel.

Harry ends his dance with Greg by dramatically turning Greg away. He glances at Misty with the most mischievous look she’s ever seen. “Who’s next?”

He doesn’t give her time to even think of an answer, he’s already shimmying his way over to Rosie. He stops briefly to deliberately knock a pillow off of the couch and giggles, “oops!” when it startles the daylights out of Lindsey. Everyone in the room has begun to frantically look for the phone, including Misty-- who is just trying to play her part. The scream that Rosie lets out when Harry grabs onto her though, is something Misty can’t even ignore. She bursts out laughing, earning a few shocked looks from her friends..

“Help!” Rosie screams. “It’s not fucking funny Misty!”

Misty immediately tries to compose herself, forcing her face into as serious an expression as she can muster. “Sorry,” she says, “It’s just--”

“Rosie if this is a prank, I swear,” Angie cuts Misty off and lunges towards Rosie, feeling the air around her.

“It’s not!” Rosie wails. “I don’t know how I’m doing this!’

Harry twirls away from Rosie and right into the arms of Angie, who gasps as she’s led clumsily, around the room. “Oh my god!’

“Oh my god!” Misty repeats, trying her best to seem as shocked as everyone else. “What the fuck is happening?”

“That’s good,” Harry says over his shoulder, “But I’m gonna need more feeling from you.”

Misty lets out a horrified shriek that puts Rosie’s own shriek to shame. “We have to find the phone!” she cries. “We have to turn this stupid song off!”

Harry frowns now. “Hey. Tainted Love isn’t stupid. Watch your mouth.’

Misty ignores him as she joins in on the frantic search for the phone that she knows damn well is deep in her pocket. Every now and then she and Harry share a knowing glance, as he switches from partner to partner.

Misty stands in the furthest corner of the room, pretending to busy herself looking for the item, when suddenly Kennedy laughs. Misty doesn’t even bother looking up, assuming simply that Harry has switched to her. It’s when Rosie speaks that Misty’s attention is caught.

“Kennedy what are you laughing at?!” Rosie wails, tears in her eyes.

“It’s kind of funny!” Kennedy says, taking a sip from her drink before setting it back down. “Like, whoever is doing this-- a ghost or a demon or like, whatever-- has a sense of humor. They know a good classic when they hear it.”

Harry, who’s currently spinning Luca into dizzy oblivion, grins. “Kennedy’s got the spirit!”

“It’s not funny!” Rosie cries. “How can you laugh?!”

Kennedy shrugs, already beginning a bop of her own. “I dunno, I think it’s funny. I don’t think whatever’s doing this is like, evil.”

“I don’t think it is either,” Misty chimes in, although she’s brushed off by everyone’s talking. Some people try to stop whatever force is making them dance, others are too scared to go near the dancer for fear of being next. Kennedy, however, just continues to groove on her own.

Misty reaches discreetly into her pocket to turn the music up a bit more, and Harry laughs gleefully. “Louder!” He calls to Misty, finally releasing his hold on Luca and scanning the room for his next victim.

As Misty watches him, cheerfully prancing around the room and trying to catch Linsdey-- who’s darting around the room like a chicken with her head cut off-- she tries her hardest to ignore the twitching of her heart. There’s no way she likes him, absolutely not. He’s dead, for fucks sake. But he looks so full of life, so full of happiness, and she realizes that this is probably the most fun he’s had in years.

“Misty what are you doing?” Kennedy calls. “You’re not even looking for the phone, come dance with me!’

“Yeah Misty, come dance!” Harry adds, shimmying his way up to Kennedy and taking her hand.

Kennedy shrieks, but she isn’t scared. She laughs immediately, as Harry pulls out his best dance moves for her.

“Someone is fucking with us,” Angie says, “They have to be.”

“Misty, why are you just standing there?” Greg asks. “You’re not even trying to help us!”

“Because,” Misty replies, her brain running a million miles an hour to come up with an excuse. She’s distracted by how much fun Harry’s having, beaming at his one willing participant as he twirls her around. She smiles. “Because I agree with Kennedy. Whatever kind of spirit is doing this is obviously having fun. I think we should let him--” Misty quickly realizes what she’s said and corrects herself “-- or it, whatever it is, just keep vibing with us. This is probably the most fun it’s had in years.”

“You’re right,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he dips Kennedy, “It is.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Rosie sobs, practically throwing herself into Luca’s arms.

“Misty is the only person this spirit hasn’t fucked with!” Lindsey points out. “She has to be up to something!”

Harry makes a face. “That’s a good point,” he muses. He gives Kennedy one last twirl before disappearing completely out of Misty’s sight-- only to reappear right beside her seconds later.

“Care to dance, ma’am?”

Misty lets her guard down completely and laughs as Harry takes hold of her. For a moment, she seems to forget all the eyes in the room. She forgets that she is the only one who can see Harry. Kennedy cheers her on as Harry moves her body-- far more dramatically than he’d moved anyone else’s.

“Miss Misty!” Harry says, making a face as if he’s beyond impressed with her moves. “You can dance!” He dips her aggressively and she squeals, reaching up to hold onto him for stability.

Kennedy starts to jokingly dance around with the other sisters, but Misty hardly notices because she’s so distracted by the silly faces Harry’s pulling as he flings her around. He goes to dip her again, nearly bashing her head accidentally on a lamp. “Whoops,” he says through a giggle.

Misty laughs so hard she snorts, and Harry brings her upright again with the biggest smile on his face. “Never heard you laugh this hard before,” he muses, “it’s cute.”

Instantly, Misty’s cheeks grow hot, and her insides twist as hard as Harry’s spinning her. As if sensing how flustered she is, Harry laughs, reaching down to pinch playfully at her side.

“I know it’s killing you,” he mumbles. “It’s kinda killing me, too.” Harry lifts Misty off the ground, spinning her around ungracefully and making her shriek “Although I know if you could talk to me, you’d probably yell at me. Or make some smartass remark.” Harry spins Misty out, then in, his face now unbearably close to hers. He grins. “So I am liking this a bit.”

Misty catches herself staring at Harry’s lips, and she subconsciously licks her own. She wants to say something so bad, and she knows he’s teasing her because he can. She hears Kennedy’s laughter mixed with another (maybe Angie’s?), and she sees the commotion occuring around her in the room, but it doesn’t feel real. The only thing she can focus on is Harry, and his scent, and the icy feeling of his breath against her skin.

Maybe everyone is too distracted, and she can lean in and kiss him. Can she kiss a ghost? Obviously she’s never tried before but he’s so close, he’s right in front of her… surely--

Misty’s thoughts are interrupted with the sudden sound of silence. She turns quickly, completely broken from her trance with Harry, to see Luca holding the wireless speaker in his hand, one thumb on the power button, mouth wide open in fear.

After a few more beats, Luca speaks. “Does anyone still feel anything?”

Misty turns to find that Harry is gone, completely out of her sight, and she tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“It’s gone,” Rosie says. “I think it’s gone. No one is moving anymore.”

Misty scans the room, trying to find Harry somewhere blending into his surroundings, but much to her dismay she finds him nowhere.

Greg slaps Luca’s arm dramatically before taking a step into the middle of the room. “Bro, what happened?”

“What the fuck was that?!” Rosie’s mascara is running slightly down her face, but her voice is at a much lower and less panicked level than before. “What the fuck just happened?”

“That was fucked,” Luca says, moving closer to Rosie. “Like, fucked.”

Misty tries her hardest to play her part, trying to act as shocked as everyone else, but she can’t stop her hand from flying to the cold spot on her chin-- where she’d felt Harry’s own mouth brush. She can’t stop herself from thinking about his words, wondering how lovely it would’ve felt to kiss him.

“And Kennedy and Misty didn’t do shit to try and fix it!” Rosie cries, reaching up to wipe at her now completely wet eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kennedy says, “What should we have done? Begged nicely for this invisible fucking force to leave us alone? I’m sure it would’ve totally listened to us.” She chuckles almost bitterly, reaching for her abandoned drink on the table. “You guys don’t know how to have fun,” she finishes, punctuating her sentence by chugging the rest of her beverage, “And it shows.”

The evening is cut short and it passes by quickly and in a blur, with everyone checking around the room multiple times for whatever the source of the music was-- to no luck. At some point, Misty discards the phone subtly onto the couch for Greg to find. Everyone around the room discusses their perspective of what had occurred, and Misty tries her best to participate-- although she is mostly spoken over by a crying Rosie and an overly anxious Linsdey.

It takes nearly an hour for Misty to find herself in her own room, after reassuring her nervous sisters that they would be fine sleeping in their rooms alone. She’s tried her hardest to brush Harry’s words about her laugh off, to stop thinking about them, and about him in general but she can’t. As she slips out of her clothes and into her pajamas, she finds herself thinking deeply about his smile.

Misty hears the most gentle knock on her door, pulling her from her thoughts. She finishes pulling her pajama t-shirt over her head before calling out a soft, “Come in.”

Harry manifests himself in her room without even opening the door, and Misty jumps when she sees him in the corner by her dresser. She rolls her eyes as she speaks. “You didn’t even need to knock.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Harry states, a smirk on his lips. “I didn’t know if you were changing.”

“You’re fine,” Misty says, plopping onto her bed. “I mean, I was changing, but like, you’re a ghost. You can walk through walls.”

“I am,” Harry says, “and I can. But I’m still respectful. What kind of a ghost do you take me for?”

Misty giggles, tossing a pillow at Harry. He dodges it-- not that he needs to-- and he snorts.

“Anyway, I just came in to say goodnight,” he says, his smile still wide on his face. “And to make sure I didn’t like… overstep tonight.”

Misty smiles back, ungracefully untucking the covers beneath her. “You didn’t overstep,” she says. “And anyway--” she doesn’t dare look at him as she continues her words, “I liked it.”

“Did you?” Harry seems completely unfazed, and Misty can hear the smirk on his face. It’s infuriatingly sexy.

“I did,” Misty says, finally turning to face him. She rolls her eyes when Harry is, of course, nowhere to be found, but she’s not even worried about it. She knows he’s still here. Her confidence grows in his absence. “I liked it a lot.”

“Did you?” He asks again, his voice lower and coming from behind her now. He’s close enough that he sends shivers down her spine, which don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs.

She turns around to catch his smile as he sits directly behind her on her bed, close enough that she can feel the crisp chill of his skin.

“Yes,” she says quietly, “I did. Told you I did.”

Once again, Misty feels hypnotized by his beautiful face. Harry knows this, and he hesitantly raises his hand to trail along her arm. She shivers again. Without meaning to, she leans into him. His smile tells her she’s not alone in the way she’s feeling right now.

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper.

Misty lifts her head, lips ghosting along the icy feel of his chin. “Did you?” she breathes.

“Did I what, sunshine?” Harry’s mouth seems to follow Misty’s own without kissing her, and it absolutely drives her crazy.

Misty gulps, gathering as much courage as she can muster. “Did you like it?”

With a cheeky grin, Harry removes his hand from Misty’s arm-- much to her dismay. She is knocked back to reality just as quickly as she’d left it, but his words make her insides flutter. “I fucking loved it.”

Misty giggles nervously, deciding to change the subject. “Everyone’s going to think I’m fucking crazy from here on out.”

Harry snorts. “No they won’t. They’ll forget. They’ll continue to think it was a weird occurrence, but they’ll forget that you were one of the only ones who didn’t.”

Misty frowns, jokingly. “So I’m forgettable then?’

Harry rolls his eyes, his smile deepening wider. “Hardly.”

Now Misty beams, ignoring the twisting in her stomach. “In all seriousness,” she replies, “You’re right. It was a weird night. I doubt my quick compliance to you was very memorable to them.”

“I liked your compliance.”

Harry says these words so softly that Misty has to look at him twice to make sure she’s even heard him correctly. He’s no longer looking at her, but the smile on his face makes Misty’s insides go weak, and she notices her own breath hitching in her throat.

“I--” she begins, not knowing where to even begin with a response to him. “I liked--”

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” Harry says. “You don’t have to say anything at all.” He smiles sheepishly at her after a moment. “I just want to tell you that you were right. That was the most fun I’ve had in years. And I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to!” Misty adjusts herself on the bed so she’s facing Harry more. “I had so much fun. You deserved it. And honestly--”

Mist trails off, licking her lips and preparing herself for what she’s about to say,

“I liked being the only one who could see you. And hear you.” Her voice grows quieter. “I liked you… Telling me what to do.”

Harry’s smirk deepens as he leans closer into Misty once again. His lips look so delicious, so inviting, Misty isn’t even sure what she’s looking at anymore.

Moments pass, with Harry and Misty both so close to one another that it’s overwhelming. Misty wants to kiss him more than anything else in her entire life, but she’s scared, and she pretends she doesn’t notice the way he melts when she sighs against his skin.

“Harry,” she breathes slowly, “I don’t know if it’s possible… but I--”

Harry stands suddenly, catching Misty off guard. “You should go to bed,” he says, quickly but sadly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to cut off the--”

“No you’re right,” Misty says, suddenly feeling completely self-conscious. She retracts into herself, crossing her arms along her lower body. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!”

“No, I know!” she lies. “But I… you know, I mean, it’s weird!”

“It’s not weird,” Harry insists. “Misty--”

“I have to go to bed,” she says, scrambling ungracefully to get under the covers. “It’s time.”

Harry looks at her for a few more moments before blowing all of his air out in a loud puff. “It’s time,” he repeats. He steps cautiously towards her, then softens himself as he reaches for her hand.

Misty eyes his movements, then smiles as she gently takes his hand in her own.

There are a few more moments of charged silence, before Misty speaks

“Don’t end tonight on a weird note,” Misty jokes, smiling up at Harry. “I had so much fun with you.”

Harry gives her hand a squeeze. “I did too, sunshine. Promise.”

“And you’ll come back tomorrow?’ Misty asks. “And it won’t be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Harry laughs, and Misty, once again, grows flustered.

“I don’t know!” she whines. “I just feel weird!”

“Don’t feel weird,” Harry says, leaning forward. He kisses her head without thinking about it, and he ignores the slight shiver of her body when he does so. “Promise it’s not weird.’

She smiles up at him. “I liked tonight,” she says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I did too,” Harry reassures her, fighting the urge to bring her hand to his lips so he can kiss it. “So fucking much.”

Misty stares at him for just a tick too long, then smiles to herself-- clearly happy with their conversation. She snuggles down under the covers and Harry, without hesitation, pulls them up further to tuck her in.

“You didn’t promise me you’d come tomorrow,” she says softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

Harry reaches across her and flicks off her lamp, allowing his eyes to focus in the darkness before speaking. “Of course I’ll come tomorrow,” he says. “I’ve come every other day, haven’t I?”

“I just hate the idea of waking up and you not being here, you know?” Misty opens her eyes, blinking softly up at Harry. ‘I want to have you while I still can.”

Something about Misty’s words breaks Harry’s heart, and he leans in impossibly closer to her. ‘You may have me whenever you like, pretty girl. I will be here whenever you call.”

“Promise?”

Harry can feel tears welling in his eyes and he absolutely hates it. He tries desperately to blink them away. “Promise.”

“Good.” Misty settles herself further under the covers with a content sigh.

“Get some sleep,” Harry mumbles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes as subtly as he can. God, he wishes he were human. More than anything in the world, he wishes he could give Misty the love she deserves-- fully.

“Okay,” Misty sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Tomorrow.”

Misty smiles. “Goodnight. Don’t watch me sleep, weird ass.”

Harry snorts at her words. Of course she’d end the night on that note. With a gentle “goodnight,” He rises to his feet and takes a few steps away from her bed, just so that she can’t detect his presence by his scent. He makes himself invisible to her while still watching her for at least another full two minutes.

The way he’s truly starting to fall for this girl is completely alarming, especially considering their circumstances. If he’d still had a beating heart, it would be breaking, and he hates the isolated yet heavy feeling in his chest as he watches her drift gently into unconsciousness. He wants her, plain and simple.

And as Misty’s thoughts turn into dreams, she can’t seem to get the ghostly boy out of her mind. She wants him, just as badly as he wants her. It’s something she fears she’ll never tell him, for obvious reasons, but she still allows herself to indulge in the visions of them experiencing a somewhat normal relationship together as she drifts into sleep.

And as the moon rises over the old, creaky house, both Harry and Misty find themselves imagining, if only for the night, that they can love one another the way they know they were meant to. Surely it won’t be enough to sustain their longing for one another. But for tonight, Harry knows that he’ll subtly pop into Misty’s dream. And he knows Misty will never mention it to him, but it will sustain them both for the time being. It will make them both happy.

And Misty’s happiness, Harry thinks, is the most important thing of all.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #AU #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 4 years ago

Text

What Fun! The Apocalypse (PART 6)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: my already poor health has been particularly bad and I lost a few thousands brain cells so probably this part could have been better. But I kind of like it as it is. I could, too, have been less cruel to Wilhemina, but I hate stories that are like, “it took exactly 2 seconds and a half for this character to overcome their trauma welcome to rainbow land”. This part may be the last part, or I may write more, idk yet. Thank you for your kind feeback and thank your for reading, lovelies. x

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5

Word count: ~ 7 000

Warnings: physical violence, self-harm (kind of?), ongoing battle btw me and English prepositions

You awoke, opened your eyes, and remembered. Today was the Apocalypse.

Everyone from Kineros Robotics who had been chosen to survive gathered in the lunch room at 8am, and waited there to board their respective planes. Most of the outposts were a long flight from California, so you and Wilhemina were to leave the place last. You had packed a small suitcase with a few of your belongings, objects you could not get rid of. You ignored the disapproving glare from Wilhemina. She was flying with nothing but her cane and a stock of painkillers for her back.

Wilhemina scanned the faces in the room. Everyone here was a longtime employee at Kineros, deemed worthy and clever enough to build and rule a new world. Pathetic, all of them. Wilhemina tapped her cane threateningly on the floor as a tall woman walked past her too close for comfort; the woman turned her head at the sound, slowly ran her eyes down and up Wilhemina’s figure, and smiled condescendingly.

Eyes were Wilhemina’s least favourite part of the human face. They were dull, and only reflected the stupidity of the brain. Eyes had stared at her and sneered and derided. Eyes had crinkled with mocking laughter and narrowed with disgust or judgment. They pried and pitied and wondered as they wonder at rare, exotic zoo animals. Other people’s eyes were only acceptable (safe) when lowered in fear or respect.

But your eyes were different. Your eyes were kind. They were loving and caring. She could get lost in them and know she was safe.

The plane to Outpost 4 departed at 10am. The one to Outpost 2 departed at 10:30. By noon, Wilhemina and you were the only one left in the room. The mysterious Ms Mead had driven to Outpost 3 the day before, to make sure everything was ready. Wilhemina had met her and decided she was trustworthy. A robot. Her mind programmed to obey her. Her heart had jumped with excitement at the thought.

The plane to Outpost 3 was to leave at exactly 2:40pm, five minutes before a ballistic missile would hit the nearest city. At 2:20 you jumped down from the table you were sitting on and ran to the nearest bathroom. An employee, who was to stay and die and did not even have the slightest idea of what was about to happen, walked past the lunch room and shot Wilhemina a curious glance. She gave him her coldest, most condescending smile in return. Another man walked past, quickly and with his shoulders bent. Wilhemina caught a glimpse of his face. Her heart did something weird in her chest.

Now, that was simply impossible, her brain told her. His plane had left hours ago. Her eyes had tricked her mind, excitement and anticipation made her see things that were not real.

You hurried back into the room, your hands fidgeting anxiously, completely unable to stand still. “Let’s go,” you said quickly, “let’s go board our plane.”

“Wait,” Wilhemina said without thinking.

You stopped in front of her.

“Wilhemina it’s 2:25 we have to –“

Here it was again, the impossible shape, hovering on one side of the door. Something in Wilhemina’s mind whispered a warning. Her eyes shifted to your face. Protect her, urged the whisper.

“I forgot an important file on my desk,” Wilhemina lied in a very calm voice.

“Are you kidding me?!” you exclaimed.

The shape moved and disappeared.

“It has all the names and information on the people who will stay with us at the outpost,” Wilhemina went on. “Go and get it. You walk faster than I do.”

“For God’s sake you must be kidding me,” you growled.

“Go,” she ordered you. “You’re wasting time.”

You scowled at her, but stormed out of the room. She listened as your footsteps faded away. Then she straightened up, pulling her shoulders back, and her right hand clenched around the knob of her cane.

“Hello, hunchback.

Rory leaned against the door, his arms folded across his chest, a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Anger rose in Wilhemina’s throat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she snapped.

Rory’s smirk widened and he started walking towards her.

“Thought I should come and say hi. Long time no see. Honestly, I’m surprised you remember me. You didn’t seem to care much about my person last time we talked.” He stopped a few inches away from Wilhemina, looking down on her, his eyes full of a triumphant, predatory light. “Last time we talked,” he repeated slowly in his drawling voice, “and you so rudely fired me. Now, I think that surely you have regrets. I think that surely you regret treating me so badly.” He raised a hand to caress her cheek, but she slapped it away.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Wilhemina hissed.

He was too close, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but she would be damned before she took a step back.

“Now, that’s not how one expresses regret,” Rory said.

Without warning, he kicked her cane over and sent it rolling on the floor and under a table. Wilhemina stumbled, regained her balance with a wince.

Rory grabbed her arm and leaned in. “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear, “can you bend low enough to blow me or will I have to break your back?”

“Go to Hell,” Wilhemina hissed, and spat on his face.

Rory’s knee came up and slammed into her stomach. Wilhemina crumpled to the floor, winded, and let out a cry as Rory kicked her side.

“Good news, hunchback!” he cried excitedly. “It’s the fucking Apocalypse! D’you know what it means?” Another kick. “It means –“ another kick, “there’ll be no police –“ another kick, “which means I can do whatever the fuck –“ another kick, ”I want to you.”

Wilhemina let him hit her. She had no way of fighting back, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she would have. Every kick awakened the sneering voice in her head that reminded her just how monstrous her body was. How it was only fair she should hurt. How she deserved the pain he was causing her, and so much more of it. The pain she was feeling was the pain she had wanted to inflict on herself for so long, a punishment for being such a hideous, such a deformed monstrosity and now she could feel joy, there was joy in her heart and she was laughing –

“What the hell?!” came a voice, loud and angry and threatening like the growl of a storm. Rory’s kicking stopped and Wilhemina almost raised her head to beg him to continue, not to stop until he’d broken every single rotten bone.

“What. The. Fucking hell Rory!” you roared, flinging yourself at him and slapping him violently in the face. “How dare you, you fucking fuck!”

Rory stumbled away from you, his hand covering his cheek where you had hit him, too stunned to speak. His back touched the wall.

“Get out!” you roared. “Get out or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

You watched him scurry away, then you ran to where Wilhemina lay curled up on the floor.

Laughing. She was laughing. Loud, painful laughs that shook her chest and tore their way out of her throat like shards of glass.

“Wilhemina? Oh God.” Your hands were shaking. “Oh God. Wilhemina, can you hear me?”

You grabbed her hand, but she jerked it free and moved it to cover her face. Her laughter still came out through her palm.

You stared at her, at a loss for what to do. Your heart was hammering in your ears but couldn’t drown out the terrible sound of her laughter. And above it all, like a red blaring light, rose a terrifying sense of urgency.

“Wilhemina,” you called, as bitter tears pooled in your eyes. This was all your fault. You had ignored Muff’s warning and put Wilhemina in danger because of your goddamn pride. You had thought you knew better than everyone else. Thought people were books, thought you could predict exactly how everyone would behave - thought that nothing harmful could come in the way of two people in love.

“Wilhemina, baby,” you pleaded through your tears, ”please, can you hear me?”

Hurry, hurry, hurry, blared the light in your head.

Something in your voice must have gotten to Wilhemina, for her laughter slowly died out. She nodded. You reached out for the hand that was covering her face, tentatively slipping your fingers between hers.

“Wilhemina, tell me where he hurt you? Can you stand up? Baby, I’m so sorry, we have to move, we have to catch that plane, we have to –“

Your voice broke. You dropped your head, sobbing out an “Oh God” as Wilhemina’s fingers tightened around yours.

She was already trying to sit up, wincing in pain and coughing out blood, so brave, so strong in the face of it all. You wrapped your arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet, and she cried out in pain.

“I’m so sorry baby,” you cried, over and over again, “I’m so sorry, we have to go, we have to catch that plane.”

She pointed to her cane and you hastily grabbed it, pressed it into her hand, slipped your arm higher up her waist to support her as you hobbled out of the lunch room and oh God, Wilhemina coughed out blood again. Tears and sweat rolled down her face as she pushed on, hurrying as fast as she could along too many corridors, the place endless, it was spreading endlessly everywhere and expanding by the second and you would never make it.

Wilhemina’s knees buckled. She collapsed on the ground with a cry.

“Go,” she croaked between her teeth. “Just go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you growled. You heaved her to her feet. “Lean on me, sweetie, just lean on me. I know you can do it.” You pressed a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, you fool.”

A tiny part of you screamed in rebellion. Death terrified you. Run, screamed a frantic voice in your head, just run for your life, who cares about her you will both die. You shook your head violently, tightened your grip around Wilhemina. Uttered words of encouragement to her. Shut the fuck up, you barked at the voice in your head. The voice roared. You roared louder.

There was a loud, distant explosion. The walls shook all around you, and the lights flickered. Wilhemina groaned, but did not stop.

You turned a corner, slammed your shoulder into a door and stumbled outside. There was something wrong with the light, a sick quality to it, it was too orange and too misty, but you barely paid attention to it, your eyes falling on the beautiful, shining small plane waiting for you just a few feet away. The pilot was standing in the narrow door, waving his arms at you and calling out.

“Come on, baby, almost there,” you growled, your heart beating madly in your chest. Wilhemina’s arm spasmed. You gripped onto her tighter.

And then your brain took over. On auto-pilot you hobbled the short distance to the plane, half carried Wilhemina up the airstair, past the man as he hurriedly closed the door and shut out the light that was too orange, too misty, the light that was so hideously sick. You collapsed on the floor with Wilhemina in your arms, crying and laughing, and peppered her face with wet kisses. When you finally pulled away for air her face was very pale, blood drying on her lower lip and chin, but she offered you a small smile.

“You made it, honeybunch,” you panted, and burst into a laugh.

The plane took off. You made Wilhemina lie down on a row of seats, then ran to the bathroom and dampened a hand towel. Your hands were shaking, your breathing was quick and shallow. Now that the exhilaration of victory and the rush of adrenaline were subsiding, something dark was settling in your chest like lead. You shook your head, scowled at your reflection in the mirror. Get a grip, you ordered yourself. Your eyes in the mirror were wide with fear and guilt.

Wilhemina had sat up while you were gone, but you made her lie down again and gently wiped the blood off her face with the wet towel. She was way too pale, her body too rigid, her jaw clenched tight against the pain. Your fault. Your goddamn fault for being such a fucking brag who thought she had some sort of superpower and could guess everything about everyone. You shook your head again, gulped back tears, and focused on Wilhemina.

“I don’t need this, Y/N,” Wilhemina said as you gently swiped the towel across her forehead - her voice was low and gravelly and her diction was weird, every word perfectly enunciated but coming out thick and heavy. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you retorted, your voice breaking. “Wilhemina, let me – you’ve just been beaten up let me take care of –“

Your hand gently caressed her cheek; Wilhemina flinched, her neck tensing and curving away from you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, immediately withdrawing your hand. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered, almost a snap. It wasn’t fear that was vibrating through her, she wasn’t afraid of your touch, - it was something entirely different you couldn’t quite understand yet. She was glaring at the ceiling, her body incredibly tense, her eyes glassy and angry.

“Can I touch you?” you asked softly.

Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to you, then back to the ceiling. One of her arms wrapped around her stomach and squeezed, hard.

“I need to make sure you’re not bleeding anywhere,” you explained.

“I’m not bleeding.”

“Where does it hurt the most? Wilhemina if there’s any wound we need to make sure and clean it bef –“

“There’s no wound,” she snapped. “A few bruises at worst.”

You paused, swallowing down your fear.

“Alright,” you said, raising both hands in the air – they were visibly shaking, so you quickly lowered them -, “alright. Just let me get you some water.”

She was still glaring at the ceiling when you came back, but you weren’t sure she was seeing it. Her eyes were burning with a kind of anger that had something terribly sad about it, something that made your heart ache for her. You unscrewed the bottle of water and offered it to her.

She took exactly one sip and handed the bottle back to you.

“Stop being so stubborn,” you said. “Drink some more –“

“I am being stubborn? Stop acting so stupid.“

“I’m not stupid, I’m worried about you.“

Automatically your hand landed on her ankle and your thumb stroked her skin. Again, she flinched, and her leg gave a kick.

“Stop it!” she snapped, her voice too high, her eyes meeting yours, desperate and angry, as her arm squeezed harder still around her stomach, her elbow digging into her ribs. “Leave me alone! I don’t deserve –”

She cut herself off, her jaw twitching once, her face hard and cold, that terrible, terrible feeling in her eyes expanding and expanding until it submerged her whole body. Her head fell back on the seat and her nails dug into her arm.

“You don’t deserve what, Mina?” you asked. Your throat closed up.

She had been laughing, when you had found her. Rory was kicking her with a crazed look on his face and she had been laughing.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, your voice too thin.

“Why would I want to talk to you?” she snapped contemptuously, her voice laced with poison, but you could see right through her act.

This was an attempt to make you leave, because she could not stand tenderness and care right now. Every fiber in her body was rebelling against love and crying out for pain. She needed to open the gates and let the self-loathing engulf her, for she couldn’t win against it - as one has to dive headfirst into a wave that is so high and so terrifying and cannot be avoided. Sometimes, the only way out is through.

“Alright,” your voice wavered, “alright, I’ll just sit here next to you, ok? I’m here if you need me.”

It was torture. Staying still as she hurt, and hurt herself, as you waited for her to come back to you, as the whole plane filled up with her pain and anger and it was a miracle it could still fly. You made small talk with her, anything to try and distract her. Your voice wavered again, three, four times. You had lowered the blind on the window nearest you to block out the sick orange light. Wilhemina kept glaring unseeingly at the ceiling. You talked, and talked, and talked, trying to drown out the sound of her loathing that you could hear like the scraping of stormy waves on a shingle beach. And on top of it all was that gnawing feeling of guilt. For you had caused this. Stupid, stupid you, blinded by your own pride.

Slowly, Wilhemina’s body started to relax. Her nails withdrew from her arm. You tentatively offered her the bottle of water again. She scowled at you, but she took the bottle and drank half of it.

The pilot’s voice came out through the intercom, telling you to prepare for landing.

Wilhemina sat up with a wince and fastened her seatbelt. She smoothed her hair and her clothes. You glanced at her, blinking back tears, your mouth too dry.

“Are you ok?” you asked. It was a stupid question, but it flew out of your mouth desperate and urgent before you could stop it.

Her eyes met yours, dark and completely unreadable.

“Of course,” she said.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it with the back of your hand, nodded.

“I want to address everyone at the Outpost as soon as we arrive,” Wilhemina went on.

You sniffed, offered her a broken smile.

“Ok.”

“They need to be perfectly apprised of the house rules.”

“Alright, you’re right.”

Another tear rolled down your cheek, which you quickly swiped away.

“Please don’t cry,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

“I - sorry,” you said quickly, wiping yet another tear. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

As if your heart wasn’t breaking for her, as if you could ever forget the look in her eyes as she lay still with her nails digging deep into her skin.

There was a short pause, and then Wilhemina took your hand.

“I love you,” she said, as one says ‘it’s okay, I’ll be okay’.

You tried to offer her a smile, but it looked like a grimace, your mouth twisting as if it were full of shards of glass. You squeezed her hand, then raised it to your lips and pressed a long kiss on one of her knuckles.

“I love you, too,” you said, your voice shaking. You breathed in to add “I’m so sorry”, but breathed out wordlessly.

You squeezed Wilhemina’s hand again, swallowing down your guilt. You couldn’t bother her with it now that she was about to take on responsibility for the survival of the human race; you had to be a strong rock she could lean on, not a burden.

You sat on the seat next to Wilhemina’s and fastened your seat belt. Wilhemina raised the blind to peer outside. You turned your head away.

The plane landed, and the pilot came out of the cockpit. He was a tall, stout man with a kind face. You reached out to help Wilhemina get up her seat but she refused your help, shooting you a glance of warning. She stood up straight and proud without so much as a wince of pain, and walked up to the pilot.

He gave Wilhemina a smile and extended his right hand as if to shake to hers. He wore a thin, gold ring on his middle finger that looked very expensive.

“You’ll have to take that off,” Wilhemina said sternly. “Greys are not allowed to wear jewelry.”

“What are Greys?” you and the pilot asked at the exact same time. Wilhemina had not told you anything about the rules at Oupost 3. You had asked, more than once, but she had never answered you, and pretended not to hear you after the third or fourth time.

Wilhemina winked at you. “Our worker hands. “ She glared at the pilot, nodding in your direction. “Your job will be to serve her and the rest of the elite.”

The kindness faded from the pilot’s face.

“I’m not sure I like that,” he muttered.

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor.

“Are you stupid?” she said, in a very slow, threatening voice. “You’re alive. Look around you. The world is no longer. Tell me, what exactly have you done to deserve surviving it?”

“I flew you here, lady,” the pilot grumbled. “You’d be dead without me.”

Wilhemina’s cane tapped on the floor again, louder.

“I’m making the rules here. You can either know your place and follow them, or take your chances, alone, in the nuclear winter.”

The pilot glanced desperately at you. You almost defended him. Part of you wasn’t sure this whole Grey thing was fair. But you could hardly imagine the devastating consequences of your challenging Wilhemina now, when she was finally in a position of power, when she trusted you to back her up. You had hurt her enough for the day.

“You better listen to her,” you said, forcing your voice to sound commanding. The colour drained from the man’s face.

You followed Wilhemina out of the plane – a thick fog was slowly swallowing the world, replacing the sick orange light with a pale grey that looked sicker somehow – and into the outpost. The place was no longer lit by electrical light but by hundreds of candles and every fireplace was alive with huge, crackling fires. You kept your eyes on Wilhemina, alert for signs of pain. There wasn’t any. As you passed a fireplace, the warmth from the fire briefly engulfed you, an unhoped-for comfort, a temporary balm to your heart.

Wilhemina turned left, and suddenly stopped. A small, stout woman with cropped black hair stood in the corridor, her hands crossed in front of her, her eyes two piercing lights ringed with black make-up. She bowed her head respectfully as she saw Wilhemina. Unconsciously you straightened your shoulders. A feeling, not exactly of authority, but of ruthless order oozed out from this woman. If you had to invent her a past, you would say quite confidently that she had spent years in the army as a high-ranked commanding officer.

Wilhemina introduced her as Ms Mead. The woman’s eyes slid to your face and she bowed her head to you, too, a quick, mechanical bending of the neck. She informed Wilhemina everything had been made ready as requested.

“It is so refreshing to work with someone who knows how to take orders and how to be efficient,” Wilhemina told her with an appreciative smile. She gestured towards the nearest door, a bathroom. “I’ll be a minute.”

Tap, tap, tap, went her cane, a cold, sharp sound; in the candlelight her hair was a deep red.

The bathroom door closed behind her. You counted five seconds before you turned to Ms Mead.

“Where’s the doctor?” you whispered urgently. You knew a doctor had been sent to every outpost, to make sure the survivors stayed safe and healthy.

Ms Mead shot you a glance that expressed absolutely nothing.

“Not here,” she answered in a robotic, toneless voice.

“What do you mean, not here?” you insisted, tiny sparks of fear flying up into your chest. Your throat tightened.

“He was supposed to arrive at 3, but he never did.” Ms Mead shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to do without him.”

More sparks, too many sparks. You almost screamed at her.

“My best guess is,” Ms Mead went on, entirely unaware of the frantic storm rising in you, “he decided to stay behind with his family. To die a useless death among his loved ones instead of taking on the honorable duty of caring for the survivors.”

“Some people are incredibly selfish,” came Wilhemina’s voice.

You jumped, turning around sharply as Wilhemina’s proud figure loomed up on your left side. “Ms Mead, gather everyone in the music room,” she ordered. “We’ll join them shortly.”

Ms Mead nodded and walked off. You glanced up nervously at Wilhemina.

“For the hundredth time, Y/N, I’m fine,” Wilhemina scolded.

You glanced up at her, scanned her face for any trace of pain, but it was completely blank. You glanced down at her hands. They rested on top of each other on the knob of her cane.

You glanced up at her face again. You figured she had no broken ribs, since she could move, and she was breathing just fine so probably nothing had damaged or punctured her lungs, but what if she were hemorrhaging, or what if she had broken something and was being very good at hiding it? That seemed to you very likely.

“Y/N?”

“What?” Your voice shot out too nervous, too aggressive.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. Tap, threatened her cane.

“We have no doctor,” you started. Your throat was so tight with fear it was a miracle your voice could get through.

“So I heard.”

“Wilhemina, someone needs to make sure you’re okay. And what will we do without a doctor? Oh God, Mina, and what about your back and what if –“

“None of that,” Wilhemina cut you off sharply. “Y/N, you need to calm down. I am fine.” She paused. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “We survived the Apocalypse, Y/N. Now I need you to calm down, get a grip on yourself, and go and join the others in the music room. “

You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths. I’m sorry, said your heart to hers, praying, praying it would hear, I’m so sorry.

You walked into the music room in a haze, barely registering the hum of worried voices and the few “Hello”s that were thrown your way. You collapsed on an armchair in a corner and buried your face in your hands. Tried to focus on your breathing. Images and sounds flashed in your mind; Wilhemina’s laugh as Rory kicked her, that terrible look in her eyes, her nails digging into her skin. Your eyes flew open as one wakes from a nightmare.

A young, fashionable man wearing sunglasses with purple-tinted lenses was staring at you. He didn’t look particularly worried, just interested.

“Are you alright, dear?” he asked in a mellow voice.

“Never better,” you growled.

“Aw,” the man said, “I know how it feels. I was supposed to fucking die in L.A.. It’s a stroke of luck I’m here, a stroke of luck. That, and my friend Coco’s crocodile wallet.” The man sat down on a chair next to you. His musky, minty perfume tickled your nose – it was so out-of-place, this smell, reminded you of lavishness and exuberance and self-confidence. If Outpost 3 had a smell, it would be that of the smoke of a candle that has just fizzled out.

The man, who introduced himself as a hairdresser, kept on talking, but you stopped listening. Your eyes scanned the people in the room, one face after the other, features blurring into each other, your brain unable to register details and to make observations. Your hands were sweaty. Your eyes fell on the familiar face of the pilot. Before you knew it you had abruptly stood up and walked to him, the hairdresser’s mouth falling open in consternation, his eyes glaring at your back through his purple-tinted sunglasses.

“Hey,” you said to the pilot. He had watched you approach with weary eyes, his lips a thin, tight, angry line. He acknowledged your presence with a stiff nod. “I wanted to thank you,” you went on, forcing your mouth into a smile. “For waiting for us. You didn’t have to.”

The pilot pursed his lips. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, but there was no hostility in his voice. His fingers started playing with a loose thread on his coat. “I guess I’m just too kind for my own good.”

“Um,” you pretended to consider his words. “I think the world would have fared better if there had been more kind people in it. You know, people who take the trouble to wait those extra five minutes to help others, instead of running for their lives.” You tried for another smile, and this time it came more easily.

The pilot glanced up at you suspiciously, but the kindness was returning to his face. “What’s going to happen, now?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t really know.”

“The man who boarded the plane just before you did said such improper, rude things about the redhead, and even though she didn’t give me any reason to like her, I don’t think folks should –“

“Excuse me,” you cut the pilot off, your heart suddenly freezing in your chest, “what man?”

“Young fellow, the one sitting over there. He appeared out of nowhere saying he’d missed his transportation to Outpost 2 and he begged me to let him in, I couldn’t just leave him to his death.”

There was not a single drop of blood left in your veins. Your heart was steadily pumping ice, biting, burning ice that froze every thought and every emotion in your brain except anger – and the anger spread. It spread everywhere, sprang from your body and crashed against the ceiling and the walls where it crystallized into sharp, fang-like icicles.

Rory had not seen you yet. He was comforting a crying young woman when you reached him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and half jerked him up on his feet. His eyes met yours in surprise as you growled into his face, “Boarding this plane was the worst mistake you ever made.” Rory tried to draw away but you tightened your grip on him and leaned in closer still, your breath ghosting his lips. “I swear to God, Rory, I’m going to turn your pathetic life into a nightmare and there will be blood.”

A loud tap cut you off. Both Rory and you jumped. Wilhemina had just entered the room, standing proud and dominating, her complexion warm in the candlelight, her eyes very dark. She had changed into a black Victorian-esque dress that brushed regally over the floor, with a high collar of intricate white lacework hugging her graceful, long neck. Her hair no longer was in her signature high ponytail but wrapped up into a perfectly centered, sophisticated bun. She looked so strong, so imposing, so perfectly in control of everything down to the dust that danced in the candlelight, that your fingers loosened their grip on Rory’s collar. You stepped away from him. Not in fear, not in defeat, but rather as a young predator respectfully makes way for the alpha that silently crawls through the grass towards the defenseless prey grazing in the shade.

Wilhemina’s gaze fell on Rory. Her eyes were as bottomless and terrifying as the inside of a cave sunlight never reaches. For Rory it meant there would be no peace, no warmth, no salvation. Another tap of her cane, and Rory flinched. Actually took a step towards you for protection.

Wilhemina walked up to him, her upper body gracefully swaying from side to side as it always did, her gait as nonchalant and powerful as a big cat’s. She stopped a few inches away from Rory and rested both hands on the knob of her cane.

“Welcome,” she breathed in his face, “to Outpost 3.”

You grinned. In the dark building with devastation outside the doors and despair within you grinned, warmth like that of a fire in a cold winter night spreading down your body and wrapping soothingly around your heart. Wilhemina’s eyes briefly shifted to yours. Oh, she would be alright. You lowered your head, staring down at the ugly floor to hide the pride and relief that painted themselves all across your face and twinkled in your eyes. Caught in the eye of a tornado this woman would be alright and with the flick of her fingers bend the howling winds to her command.

Rory’s body looked like it had lost several inches and pounds. Probably part of him had fled in fear. He gulped, tried to maintain eye contact with Wilhemina, failed, stared down at his feet as heat flooded his face.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re not on my list,” Wilhemina went on. Her voice was melodic, as if she were about to break into a song. “Take him to the cell,” she ordered a giant of a woman who stood in the doorway. The woman grabbed Rory and dragged him out of the room. His eyes shot a frightened look your way before he disappeared, the darkness swallowing his pale and quivering form.

A hush had fallen upon the room. Everyone stood rigid with their eyes lowered respectfully or inspecting a piece of furniture or the ceiling or their own fingers. You saw the hairdresser glance up at Wilhemina, curious and intimidated, his gaze lingering no more than a second on her face before focusing back on the cuff of his right sleeve.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the floor and briefly introduced herself in a firm, authoritative voice. Her eyes coldly scanned the room as she talked, explaining what the Cooperative was, how hard they had worked to save the human race, how grateful the survivors should be, how humbled. Before explaining the house rules she reminded everyone that survival required order and strict obedience. She would be ruthless, she assured them sternly. Anyone who broke the rules would be kicked out of the building or immediately shot.

You frowned at that. Death seemed too extreme a punishment. Just as the thought crossed your mind, an old woman voiced it in consternation. Wilhemina’s gaze fell on her and a cold, condescending smile grazed her lips.

“It would be too extreme in the world we used to know,” she said very slowly. “But here, we are the last vestige of the human race. Error and insubordination simply cannot be tolerated, not when they could result in the complete eradication of our species.”

Hierarchy is the key, Wilhemina went on. In Outpost 3, everyone would know their place. Here she paused to unfold a piece of paper and slowly read out the names of “the Elite” and of “those who would serve them”, the Purples and the Greys respectively. You nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Hushed whispers were exchanged before another sharp tap of Wilhemina’s cane commanded silence.

There would be no leaving the building. Greys and Purples alike would be on a strict timetable. Each Purple would be attributed a Grey to serve and obey them. Here a few voices rose in protest, but quickly died down. Good manners and proper dressing should be observed, for appearances did wonders on one’s morale. There should be no indulging in improper activities, and no unauthorized copulation.

Your jaw dropped open at that.

“Excuse me?” the hairdresser exclaimed, his voice louder and clearer than all the others which chimed in angry protest. “It’s already Hell down here, no need to make it worse!“

“Now that’s bullshit,” you heard yourself growl.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours. “I said,” she enunciated, “no unauthorized copulation.”

Oh. Your shoulders relaxed. You bit down on a smirk. You swore, Wilhemina’s mouth twitched just so, as if she, too, were holding back a smug smile.

After that, Ms Mead was ordered to show everyone to their rooms. You lingered behind as the others crowded to the door, voices grumbling and shoulders bending in defeat, like a pack of children gathering for class after recess. Wilhemina watched them leave, and then she turned on her heel and disappeared in the corridor.

You followed her, assuming a nonchalant expression, sticking your hands into your pockets. Wilhemina walked into the bedroom she had chosen for herself and you on your first visit of the Outpost. You glanced right and left, then followed her inside.

As soon as you closed the door, Wilhemina sat heavily on the bed, her shoulders sagging, and closed her eyes. You kneeled in front of her, peering up worriedly at her.

“Are you okay? Are you hurting? Wilhemina, are you okay?” you inquired urgently, your hands coming up to cup her face.

A soft smile slowly spread over her lips, and her eyes fluttered open. “I’m fine, Y/N,” she answered, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

You scrambled up to your feet and sat on the bed next to her, pressing your shoulder to hers, reaching for her hand.

“You should lie down,” you urged, ”have some rest. You did so much, Mina you did so good.”

She closed her eyes again, and shook her head.

“I don’t have time to rest, Y/N. I need to make sure everyone is settling in properly.”

“Let me do it,” you offered, pushing your palm to hers and lacing your fingers together. “I can do it. You lie down and I’ll see to everything.”

She let out a sigh and rested her head on your shoulder.

“I’m grateful for the offer, Y/N, but you have no idea how this place is to be run. Besides, it’s not your job.”

Her head was pressing more and more heavily on your shoulder. She looked so exhausted, so vulnerable in contrast to her earlier show of strength and power that you felt fear clench at your throat once more.

You wrapped one arm around her shoulders to support her and she let her body sag against your side. She buried her face in the crook of your neck and let out one shaky breath that tickled your skin.

“Where did he hurt you?” you asked in a whisper, nuzzling into her hair.

Something wet rolled down your neck. There was silence, broken by a sniffle and then Wilhemina’s voice, barely audible, “My stomach and ribs feel like they’re broken into pieces.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathed out angrily through your nose and gently stroked your thumb over her shoulder, back and forth.

“Let me have a look?” you tried softly.

She shook her head. “It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted, the words leaving your mouth confident and strong.

Wilhemina pulled herself away from you as if she meant to stand, but she stayed on the bed, making no effort to straighten her shoulders. She sighed, lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I really do have to go,” she said. She opened one eye to look at you. “You can play the doctor tonight when my day is done.”

You watched her as she stood up and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her left hand over her dress, tilting her head on one side then the other, tugging at her right sleeve that rode up her arm.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” you whispered, so low you thought she could not hear you, but her eyes met yours in the mirror. The next words left your mouth coated with such sadness and so heavy with guilt it was a miracle they made it all the way to Wilhemina. “I’m so sorry I didn’t take Mutt’s warning seriously. I was wrong about Rory, and I put you in danger, and I can’t -” Your voice trailed off. You closed your eyes, unable to hold Wilhemina’s gaze, and gulped back tears.

For a few, agonizingly long seconds, there was only silence. Stupid, you scolded yourself, not for the first time today. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had sworn to yourself you would not burden Wilhemina with your useless feelings of guilt, sworn you would keep them to yourself. You kept putting her in uncomfortable, dangerous situations and you –

There was the sound of Wilhemina’s cane, the rustle of her dress, and then you felt warmth on your cheeks as her hands cupped your face.

“It wasn’t your fault, Y/N,” you heard her voice, soft and loving. You opened your eyes. Wilhemina’s brow was slightly pushed up, her eyes were big and very brown and God, how you loved her eyes. You leaned in, as if to dive into them. “Please don’t hold yourself responsible for anything that happened today.”

You were about to protest, but you closed your mouth at the last second and kept the words captive. No burdening her, you reminded yourself sharply. She already had so much to carry. So you gave her a smile instead, hoping it looked convincing; it must have, for Wilhemina let go of your face and drew away.

You watched her walk slowly to the door, pressed your lips tightly closed as another apology violently slammed against them, desperate for a way out. No burdening her. Wilhemina stopped in front of the door, straightened her back and shoulders, and took a deep breath. She stood as regal and powerful as you had ever seen her, the candlelight dancing in awe on her hair.

She put one hand on the door handle, offered you a smile like a bouquet of flowers, opened the door, and walked off.

#didn't it bug you there wasn't any doctor in Outpost 3?#what kind of bad organisation was that #so now there was one but he's dead #ahs #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics #ahs imagines

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years ago

Text

Out of the Mouths of Babes - Chapter 1

Read on AO3 here

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

Ron was still huffing grumpily as he stepped forward and pushed the door of their flat open for Hermione, so she wouldn’t have to adjust Teddy in her arms. His gracious show of chivalry clashed hilariously with the sour look on his face.

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione laughed, shaking her head at him, “One would really assume you’d be used to it by now.”

“I have gotten used to it!” he said defensively. “I keep getting used to it, over and over, but then they just keep getting worse! If you want to snog your girlfriend, snog your girlfriend, if you want to talk with your best mate, talk with your best mate, but it’s downright rude to try to do both at the same time. But was there a single moment today where they weren’t draped all over each other? No! I don’t even want to think about what their hands might have been doing under the table. I mean, shit… ”

“Ron!” Hermioned hissed harshly, quickly covering Teddy’s ears.

But it was too late. “What’s shit?” the three-year-old asked innocently. Hermione shot Ron a murderous glare.

“I’ve told you Ron, for once in your life, watch what comes out of your mouth! Teddy is at a stage in his development where he’s very observant and curious.”

“What’s curious?” asked Teddy.

“That just means you’re growing up to be the most clever boy in the world!” Hermione told the toddler sweetly. She lifted up his shirt and blew him a raspberry, causing him to erupt into giggles. She put him down and he ran off to sit on the sitting room rug and start playing with the toys they had brought out before taking him today.

Ron was still grumpy as he plopped down on the sofa and watched Teddy absentmindedly. In hindsight, Hermione saw that she should have given him some time to cool off between ending their double lunch date with Harry and Ginny and picking Teddy up from Andromeda, to give her a night off to spend with other adults unencumbered. But if they had delayed at all, Harry would have jumped at the chance and taken Teddy himself. He was always using his role of godfather to indulge his martyr complex, but Hermione had steadfastly reminded him that Ginny was off for the first time in weeks after the intense conclusion to the Quidditch season, and she deserved to have her boyfriend all to herself.

Hermione sighed as she sat next to her fiancé on the sofa, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You have to remember, Ron, that Harry is still learning how physical affection works. He grew up without anyone ever touching him except to control him or hurt him. It’s called being touch-starved, it’s a real phenomenon in psychology. It’s understandable if he over-corrects in the other direction and doesn’t understand that public displays of affection come with boundaries.

She turned her head to look at him kindly, but found him giving her a deadpan frown.

“Seriously, Hermione? Not everything is related to something you read in a book once but somehow remember years later. This has nothing to do with Harry’s Tragic Backstory, they get more and more handsy because they know that it drives me up the wall, they’re just fucking with me.”

“What’s fucking?” asked Teddy.

“Sorr— Ow!” Ron helped as Hermione elbowed him hard in the side.

“Behave yourself,” she told him. “And don’t sell Harry short, that is not why he does it.”

She settled back into leaning against him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“....That is absolutely why Ginny does it, though,” she added, making Ron snort with laughter.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, content to just watch Teddy play with small smiles on their faces.

“Thanks for volunteering us to take him,” Ron said softly into Hermione’s ear. “Having him around, this time of the year….it helps.”

Hermione nodded somberly. “I know what you mean.” The next day was May 2nd. Three years to the day since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hermione sniffed as she felt all-too familiar tears threatening to break free again. “Being around someone so young, someone who won’t ever remember how bad things had gotten, who would only know the new world we fought for. It reminds us that none of them died in vain.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed quietly. “I think the rest of the family feels the same way, they always get super clingy with Vic this time of the year. Me too, I’ll admit.”

“Oh yes, I’ve definitely noticed that,” Hermione nodded. “Even more so than with Teddy, since she’s a Weasley. She represents your family’s survival and healing, I suppose.”

Hermione chuckled at something she remembered. “The worst of them all is your mother. She’s really been cranking the doting up for Victoire, and between you and me, it’s driving Fleur absolutely mad.”

Ron sat up a bit to face her, smiling mischievously at the gossip. “Oh yeah?”

Hermione nodded and smiled back. “She won’t say anything until she figures out a way to phrase it passive-aggressively instead of bluntly, but Fleur is clearly feeling smothered by the pressure of being the mother of the only grandchild.”

Ron’s smile faltered a bit, and the same grumpy mood he had when they returned home seemed to return.

“Well, she probably shouldn’t worry,” he grumbled. “If my best mate and my sister keep being as insufferable as they are, it’s only a matter of time before Harry’s knocking Ginny up—”

“Ron!” Hermione growled angrily, shooting Teddy a sideways glance, but fortunately he seemed too busy playing with his toy dragons. She breathed a sigh of relief, then started giggling.

“What on Earth makes you assume that?” she asked him incredulously.

“Hermione, if they can’t control themselves in the middle of a sodding café, what makes you think they can when alone in their flat?”

Hermione snuggled back up to him, pouting her lip playfully. “Well if that’s the case, why them and not us? I’d like to think that we’re similarly…. out of control at times…” she slowly brought a hand to rub up his thigh. Then, suddenly, her eyes narrowed dangerously, she stood up, and put her hands on her hips.

“Unless you’re saying that you’re just not as attracted to me as Harry is to Ginny?”

Ron just raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re trying to trap me because you think I’m adorable when I’m nervous, but you have to be less transparent than that, love.”

“Shoot, it was worth a try,” laughed Hermione, sitting back down.

“You know that I meant that you would never allow that to happen,” pulling her close again. “You can’t even make noncommittal plans for drinks in a pub without triple-checking your schedule and giving it a color-coded entry in your planner, there’s no way you’d ever let something as important as…. that just slip your mind. But you know how reckless those two are, is it really hard to believe they would neglect the Contraception Charm once?”

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. “No, I really don’t think so. There are some things that Harry and Ginny do take seriously, one of them is family, they wouldn’t be blasé about it. And don’t be so disgustingly modest,” she said, lightly swatting his leg. “I am not always meticulous, you know damn well you’re capable of turning me into a scatterbrained piece of goo.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel Ron grinning proudly at that.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured in her ear, and Hermione felt goosebumps erupt on her neck. He pulled her closer and Hermione felt herself blush scarlet as he whispered all sorts of things he planned to do to her to prove her right.

“What’s knickers?” asked Teddy, who apparently had very good hearing. Hermione blushed harder than ever as she elbowed her fiancé again.

It was after dark when Ron and Hermione finally stepped through the fireplace of the Burrow. They could hear the large, loud gathering in the kitchen before they saw it. They found Andromeda talking and laughing happily in the kitchen with Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, George, and Charlie, all drinking either tea, firewhiskey, or some combination of both. But as pleasant as the evening had been, she still beamed when she saw her grandson running towards her.

“He wasn’t too much trouble, was he?” she asked apologetically as she scooped the toddler into her lap.

“He was a delight!” said Hermione cheerfully.

“Yeah, this kid stuff is easy!” said Ron dismissively. “And yes, that’s a git thing to say, feel free to saddle us with him until I regret it.”

Andromeda laughed and thanked them again. After Ron and Hermione returned home through the fireplace, Teddy rested his head on Andromeda’s shoulder. He was clearly very tired and was starting to get fussy.

“Well,” Andromeda sighed, “I guess I should get this one home. Thank you so much for having me, all of you.”

But then, Teddy spoke up in a sleepy voice.

“Grammy, what’s knocking up?”

There was a loud crash as Molly dropped the teapot onto the kitchen floor. Fleur gasped dramatically, Bill coughed and sputtered on his firewhiskey, while George just erupted into laughter.

Andromeda pulled the boy off her shoulder and looked at him sternly. “Edward Remus Lupin, where did you hear that?” she asked.

“Oh, I believe we know where” Molly growled as she flicked her wand to levitate the shrapnel on the floor and started to reassemble it into a teapot, “I honestly don’t know where these sons of mine got such foul mouths. I have half a mind to go after Ronald and remind him that he’s not too old for me to wash his mouth out with soap. I am so sorry, Andi.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Andromeda. “Harry can swear just as well as any Weasley.”

She addressed Teddy again, more gently this time. “Go on, Teddy, where did you hear those words?”

“Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

The kitchen of the Burrow had never before fallen so quickly, completely silent. The only sound was another crash as Molly dropped the teapot again.

#harry potter #hp fanfic #fanfic #hinny #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry and ginny #romione

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smellss · 4 years ago

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invisible

zuko x reader pt.1

gif credit: @hadesgal15

a/n

hello lovelies,

sorry i’ve been away for so long i have really missed writing but with holidays starting hopefully i’ll have more time for writing. i’ve been working on this series for a while i think it will be 2 parts but maybe 3 if you guys like it! send in those requests x

- smells x

zuko has always been a mystery to y/n. the way he had that cocky smirk whenever around the women of the kingdom but then a sweet smile whenever he was with his friends.

but whenever y/n was around he was cold, distant even rude treating her as if she was invisible.

she was only a worker at the palace cleaning, cooking mostly spending her time looking after avatar aang and katara.

both of them agreed the way zuko treated y/n was strange.

y/n hastily walked with the tray to aang’s office hearing voices inside she knocked before entering

“yes come in” aang soft voice rung before y/n entered

“well if it isn’t my favourite person” aang smiled at y/n as she placed the tea on the table earning a smile from katara

zuko resting against the wall pushed himself off sniffling a little

“aang, i will discuss this with you later” zuko coughed sounding quite horse, nodding his head at the couple adverting his eye contact with y/n

“zuko are you feeling well? you sound quite sick”katara stated with a furrowed brow pressing the back of her hand to the fire lord’s forehead

“i’m fine katara, honestly ” the fire lord stated waving goodbye to the couple avoiding all eye contact with y/n

y/n let out a saddened sigh before going back to pour the tea

“i just don’t get it, he really seems to dislike me and i don’t know what i’ve done” y/n explained handing katara and aang their teas before the couple gave each other a look

“y/n come sit” aang gestured to one of the chairs positioned around the table to which she hesitated but aang nodded before smiling warmly

“zuko has always been well quite reserved when i first met him i thought he was well an asshole and rude” katara explained a chuckle leaving both y/n and aang’s mouth

“but when he began to truly trust me things he still was an asshole but became better and now he really is one of my closest friends”

“the thing is y/n, don’t give up on zuko just yet i promise he will come around” aang comforted the young girl placing a hand over her own

y/n lay awake in her bed that night tossing and turning, thoughts swirling around her head

so maybe zuko isn’t so bad after all

how am i supposed to get him to trust me?

y/n’s eyes began to shutter close to drifting off to a restless sleep of tossing and turning

she was woken abruptly by a loud bang at her door, quickly jumping putting on a robe and slippers she hastily opened the door

jia one of the maids quite all out of breath looking quite dishelleved

“jia is everything alright?” y/n asked wrapping her robe around her tighter looking at the girl with wide eyes

“the fire lord has become ill he has a high fever katara has asked to please collect cloths from the kitchen and go to his chambers immediately” jia instructed her frantically

y/n sprinted her feet carrying her as fast as she could, arriving at the kitchen she frantically collected the bucket of cold water filled with towels

running the water sloshed in the bucket and thoughts sped through y/n’s head

i hope he’s okay

katara is the world’s best healer

he has to be fine

right?

approaching the fire lord’s room a blue glow illuminated the girls face

katara stood moving her arms gracefully over the large bed a circle of glowing water wrapped around zuko’s body a small gasp leaving y/n’s lips

y/n had never seen him look like this so small, meek and fragile always standing tall and proud

“great you are here, my part is mostly done this a virus so healing isn’t to much help but it does relive a bit of the fever” katara sighed pushing zuko’s hair back her eyes dreary with exhaustion

“katara why don’t you rest i can look after the fire lord for a while” y/n smiled sweetly, grabbing the bucket of clothes moving beside zuko’s resting body

katara yawned shuffling back to her own room, y/n dabbed the sweat off zuko’s face he was profusely sweating and shaking

how can i make him feel better?

y/n smiled beginning to think of a song that her mother used to sing to her when she was ill as a child softly she began to sing

The moon is bright, the wind is quiet,

The tree leaves hang over the window.

zuko began to stop moving his breaths becoming slower, the girl could see him relaxing she began to brush the hair out of his face as she continued to sleep

Little one, close your eyes,

Sleep, sleep, dreaming sweet dreams.

the fire lord now fast asleep had a small smile on his face, one y/n had only seen a handful of times usually reserved for his younger sister or mother

y/n stretched letting out a yawn fatigue beginning to take over looking over at zuko calmly asleep she began to drift off

i’ll just rest my eyes for a moment

when y/n awoke the sun peaked into the room little slithers of lights danced across the room she stretched her arms then began to check on zuko

“fever is down but still there” y/n mumbled biting her lip in concentration pressing her knuckles to the fire lords head

“good to know” zuko croaked out with a chuckle his eyes opening to show his gold orbs

y/n’s cheeks glowed bright red in embarrassment she began to bow with a stutter

“fire lord zuko i apologise for my presence i am not in uniform nor the correct-t, it’s just you were very ill and i was helping katara and then i just rested my eyes and fell asleep in the chair and i” y/n stuttered out avoiding eye contact with zuko glancing up to see a amused look on his face

“honestly it’s fine don’t worry about-t” zuko’s body was wracked with coughs

“spirits okay i’ll be back soon with some healing tea and katara” y/n exclaimed quickly walking towards the door with haste as she put her hand on the handle though zuko piped up behind her

“you know you have quite a lovely voice, y/n” the fire lord said with a smirk

y/n paused smiling widely a tinge of blush on her cheeks appeared before she walked out searching for katara.

#fire lord zuko #alta #avatar the last airbender #team avatar #zuko fluff #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar: tla #zuko x you #aang x katara #zuko fanfic #zuko gif #avatar gaang #kataang #atla zuko

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s-creations · 3 years ago

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In Sickness, In Health Chapter 3 - Mental Health

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: getting sick, being cared for, mental health, injury, sore throat, common cold, chicken pox, broken bones, whooping cough, taking care of others.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

José knew it was a long time coming.

He wondered if it was the constant, non-stop life of a job and raising three kids kept it at bay for so long. Because it was upon realizing the familiar gray clouds were approaching once more that he also counted how long it had been since his last...episode. How long ago his last relapse was. How long it had been since his heart beating heavily in his chest while his mind became muddled.

It started out on Monday. Waking up early to get into work. Knowing he was going to be gone until Friday. Gone from his family and the warm bed surrounded by his husbands. Sleeping in numerous hotel rooms where it was uncomfortably cold.

Then his mind seemed to fixate on every negative aspect of his job. How long the flights seemed to be. How every patron had made it their mission to be as loud, needy, and rude as possible. He was sure every mistake, which was numerous his mind helpfully offered, would cost him his position. Which sent him down a spiral thought of how the family would suffer. How dependent they were on him financially and he would be a disappointment once more.

José knew the mask was slipping when co-workers pulled him aside after one flight. Asking if he was okay. To which he merely smiled and said he was feeling fine. But he could tell by the exchange of worried glances he wasn’t being convincing.

It was both a relief and a mounting worry when the end of the week arrived. He was finally able to go home. But he didn’t want to face the family. The kids were old enough to know something was wrong but not able to understand what was wrong. This was a burden José didn’t even want his husbands to deal with. He didn’t want the kids to worry as well.

The front door opened slowly, José standing in the doorway. Contemplating if he should go in or just rent out a hotel until this passed.

But it won’t pass. The problem is always there. Hiding will only make them worry more. They’d just hunt you down and do you really want to do that to them?

José couldn’t tell if the voice was supposed to be helping or not. Letting out a slow sigh, he walked in. Mind and body exhausted, he shuffled over to the couch. Unable to convince himself to make it to the proper bed. Merely kicking off his shows as he settled down. Sleep not coming to him until a few hours later. Even then, it was restless.

He heard when the family woke up. Familiar sounds of feet hitting the ground. Cheerful cries of ‘Tio Chito!’ and ‘Uncle Donald!’ coming from the triplets. Very mumbled and soft replies from the two adults. José rolled so he was facing the back of the couch. Curling up to be as small as possible. Footsteps drew closer. Heading straight for the kitchen, the sounds of breakfast cooking and plates clinking together following. José wondered how long it would take for them to find him.

It honestly didn’t take that long.

Curious footsteps drew closer to the couch. “Tio José?”

Oh, it was Louie. Of course it was going to be one of the triplets who found him first. José could only hope that Louie would assume the parrot was still asleep. That the duckling would eventually become bored and wanders back to the family.

José twitched slightly feeling hands grasping the back of his shirt. Louie climbed up and laid himself across the parrot.

“Louie?” Donald called out from the kitchen, “What are you doing in there?”

“Shhh, Tio José’s sleeping.” The duckling replied. Two sets of footsteps sounded as, no doubt, Donald and Panchito walked in. Louie was lifted up with a small noise of complaint.

“Come on, let’s let Tio José sleep.” Donald said, his voice growing distant as he went back to the kitchen.

Panchito had remained behind, José didn’t have to look up. Sure enough, a hand was gently placed on his shoulder. “José? ...Where are we on the scale?”

It was always ‘we’, never ‘you’. The rooster made it clear how determined he was to help out in any way. It wasn’t a problem José didn’t have to manage alone. This was an issue they handled together.

“José, where on the scale.”

Oh, right, he was supposed to answer. “...7.”

“Okay, we can work with a 7.” Being cautious, Panchito slowly moved the parrot to sit up. José opened his eyes to get his bearings as everything shifted. “Did you sleep?”

“...I think so...but not long…”

“I think the first thing we need to worry about is getting you a shower. And out of your work clothes. I’m sure that will help out as well.”

José made no complaint as he was moved to stand. The rooster more than happy (more or less) to carry the other to the bedroom.

“Tio José?”

And they had to pass the kitchen. So the triplets had their full attention set on their uncles trying to sneak by. Donald looked sheepish, a silent apology for having José being caught in the act.

This wouldn’t be an issue if you could actually take care of yourself.

“No worries,” Panchito attempted to calm the worried looks, “José’s just feeling a little unwell. But he’s going to get cleaned up and sleep for a bit.”

José watched as the three ducklings exchanged looks. The parrot holding himself back from hiding away behind the tall rooster.

“...I like watching movies when I’m not feeling well.” Huey quietly offered.

Which Dewey jumped onto easily. “Yeah! Movie marathon in the living room! Can we do that, please? To help Tio José.”

Louie’s eyes darted between all. Curious about the outcome, but not wanting to weigh in.

“As wonderful as that sounds, Tio José may just want to sleep. Let’s let him get himself clean and decide what he wants to do after that.” Panchito smiled softly at the small chorus of ‘Yes, Tio Chito’ as he led José away. The bedroom door closed, placing both birds in darkness.

“You go get clean. I’ll bring you your sleepwear. Then we can decide what to do after.”

“...What if I do not want to be with the kids?”

“Then you don’t have to. We won’t force you to.”

“...But I will disappoint them.”

Panchito gave a gentle kiss to José’s forehead. “You could never disappoint them. Now, go shower. Take all the time you need.”

The parrot gave a small sigh. Wishing he could just hide away in the red plumage. But knowing he wouldn’t win, he instead shuffled away to the bathroom.

The water was scalding as it fell on José. The room filling with steam as his fingers ran through his feathers. It was nice to get the work dirt and smell off of him. Sure, the hotel rooms had showers. But being home just made that feeling of being clean all the better. That didn’t mean José was going to leave anytime soon. He still had to decide what happened when he left.

Do you really think your family will want to be around you?

“But I want to be with them,” José quietly argued back, “Wasn’t that the whole reason I came back?”

It was so they didn’t have to hunt you down. Continuing to be a burden. Just tuck yourself away and keep out of the way. They don’t want to see you.

The parrot frowned. Not in defeat, but in determination. “Except they do… We planned a movie marathon tonight. They suggested it.”

They don’t want to see you!

“Well, I want to see them.”

José turned the water off after only a few minutes of getting clean. Climbing out and grabbing the towel, scrubbing it over himself to dry off quickly. Eyes landing on a pile of clothing resting on the toilet seat. Panchito must have walked in while José was internally arguing with himself. The parrot ignored the feeling of clothing sticking to wet feathers as he left the bathroom. The rooster, who had been scrolling through his phone, jumped as the door was suddenly opened. Clearly not prepared.

“J-José, you alright?”

“I want my boys.”

Panchito gave a relieved laugh and smiled. “Alright. Let’s go see our boys.”

They entered the living room, where the couch was already transformed into a blanket tent. Stack of movies resting at the base of the entertainment system. Dewey cheered upon seeing Panchito and José. But Louie was the one who dashed over, clinging to the parrot’s leg. José instantly bent down to pick the duckling up. Finding comfort in the weight and warmth in his arms.

All clambered onto the couch, smuched together as the movie started. No one commented when José fell asleep halfway through.

#donald duck #josé carioca #panchito pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchito pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations #fanfiction

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fallingoverharrypotter · 3 years ago

Text

If We Make It Through January 7th

Draco and Harry on the wrong side of the holiday season, making the gloom a little bit brighter. Also on AO3 here.

I’m barely through the front door of the place before I catch a glimpse of the man behind the counter and freeze up. Right there in the doorway.

A frustrated cough comes from behind me, and I hear a rude “excuse me.”

I swear. “Sorry,” I move out of their way, back onto the icy cobblestones: the patron flicks me an insincere smile as they hurry into the warmth of the bakery, and the door shuts in my face with a clang. The noise of the store, regular café sounds and music with it. That’s unfortunate, as Diagon still has Christmas jingles incessantly twinkling across the cold brick back and forth down the alley on this side of the new year, and that’s… only one part of the reason I want to enter.

Surely there are other places on Diagon that sell hot drinks and buns this late on a Wednesday. But… I know there aren’t. Even in muggle London.

Going home empty handed on Monday was one thing, but going home empty handed on Wednesday seems out of the question.

The cheerful drawings of smiling faces and steaming pastries on the glass are mocking me - there’s raucous noise of laughter just from the other side of the windows. I’m drawn up close and shivering in my winter robe, and it’s so cold that the warming charms keep wearing off. There are the sludgy remnants of snow on the cobbles, and I had to save myself from a couple of falls on the way down here. The blush on my cheeks is definitely from the embarrassment of the wobbles, but thankfully it’ll be passed off as the bite of the air. He probably won’t realise a difference anyway.

I take a deep breath, and go to reach for the door again, but then my hand stops, barely within my control. I close my eyes and try once more. Breathe deep, hand out to grasp the handle. I pretend not to think about whether any patrons of the bakery are staring at me through the glass. I hypothesise that if this takes me longer than five minutes, I’ll get an Auror called on me for drunk and disorderly, and wouldn’t that truly make my day.

Suddenly, it’s too much. I don’t even want to see his face. Wednesday pastries will just have to go without. It’s a silly tradition anyway. Surely if I’m ever allowed to forgo a habit, it would be as a new year’s resolution. It was his neurotic practice anyway. Probably one of those things I should toss out like I did all the rest of his stuff.

I take another deep breath and point my chin up, stare challengingly at one stupid smiling figure on the glass, and turn to make my way down to the other apparition point at the end of Diagon.

Stupid ex-boyfriends and stupid bleeding-heart holiday seasons. I manage to keep my feet reasonably stable as I walk down the almost icy path on this darker end of the street.

Unfortunately for me, however, a loud noise startles me and I completely wipe out.

A loud grunt expels itself from my chest as my back hits the ground. Thankfully my neck and head seem to be pretty well protected by the thick green scarf I’ve got wrapping me up, but my ass doesn’t fair all that well. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, and groan as I roll over onto my side. I wince when a sharp twinge in my back is set off with my movement.

Thankfully I’m not alone in my predicament, because the noise that startled me was an initial slick sharp sound of a slip against the icy cobbles. I tilt my head up and see heavy black boots, worn just slightly at the sole, and the figure of their owner, a man in amongst a mountain of sludgy snow that someone had just moved to the side instead of vanishing. I mutter to myself about the absolute travesty which is Diagon without proper foot traffic. People here get bloody careless this time of year.

I push myself up by my gloved hands, now soaked, along with the backside of my cloak. “Are you alright?” I half-heartedly direct to the man who I can hear angrily muttering to himself in his current position. I have to pay direct attention to getting my feet under me so that I don’t make another trip, but I do finally stabilise myself. I sigh crossly. My penance for getting so startled is that I don’t immediately get to grab my wand and dry myself off.

The man sighs too. His reply is muffled, but I think I can make out a “yep”. Charming.

He’s not moving though, so I huff out a breath impatiently and wander over to where he lies carelessly under an awning, face shadowed from Diagon’s twinkling lights. Good King Wenceslas chimes out of the charms on the street, and seems to mock me, and I have to force myself to think of how best to rectify this. I hope this guy isn’t drunk. Or maybe I hope he is, so that I can just call the aurors to deal with this.

“Are you pissed?” I ask, just to know.

“I wish.” Is his muffled reply. “Would be a bit less embarrassing if I were, I think.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you get up?”

“Yep.” He repeats, and then groans again as he pulls himself out of the soaking wet, dirty grey cushion, that is the snow bank.

My mouth drops open. “Potter?”

And, yep indeed. It’s Potter. He’s leaning back on gloved hands when he looks up at me quickly and then he groans. Throws his wet haired head back, and those green eyes look up at the awning like he’s berating whatever trickster god pulls his strings of fate. Or, so I assume.

He leans his weight on a single hand and stretches out the other in my direction.

For a second, I think he’s extended it so we can shake hands, before I realise that he just wants a hand up. I flush and hasten – carefully – over. A quick pull from my hand and he does the rest of the work, but he has to grab at my shoulders when he’s upright, a little wobbly.

He looks at me and grimaces. “I’m a danger to myself and others.” His hands release my shoulders, but only, it seems, to brush off bits of snow and dirt off of my coat.

I huff, my breath making a cloud of vapour in the space between us. “Well, I won’t disagree with you on that. Do you need me to go and get someone for you, or can you make your merry way to your reserved bed at Mungos?”

He laughs just a little. “It’s always a pleasure, Draco, honestly.” He’s joking, so I reserve the right to kick him until later. Maybe when he’s a bit less pathetic from the slip. “Are you okay?”

I scowl, and don’t answer his question. “It’s bloody 6pm on a Wednesday. In the middle of winter. After a snow storm. Who’s honestly buying wands this time of year?”

He smiles, winks slightly. “Gotta be made, don’t they?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I get it. You’re chained to your desk. A snowstorm fit for the arctic circle could blaze through here and you couldn’t be moved.”

He laughs. Harry laughs the same way he’s always laughed, and I blush just a little bit, as I’ve always done. I feel a shiver start to come upon me, but I keep it away by share force of will as he continues. “The new year is good for the thestral tail hair.” A dirty glove subconsciously comes up to rub at his wet hair, and he grimaces when he feels it. “Decay, new life, you know. The Death-horses and Winter going hand in hand.”

I smirk as he tentatively tries to rub his dirty glove off against a cleaner part of his cloak. “Cruel of them. Not taking the time to consider your plight.”

“Well,” he challenges, “I doubt it’s a major concern. It’s actually not every day that I slip and fall on the pavement. I survive my walks, mostly.”

“Well,” I answer, “I never slip or fall.” I raise a haughty eyebrow at him, and I can see the humour dust his eyes a little bit more. “Don’t go blaming me for this.”

He rolls his eyes and grimaces. “Why are we still so wet.” He flicks his hand and a wave of annoyingly familiar magic crests itself over my figure until the dirt and the moisture are driven right away. I flick a warming charm over him in thanks.

He seems to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings now that he’s dry and warm. “You just come from Finch-Fletchley’s? You mind reminding him that if the other shops are closed down for the holidays that it’s his job to vanish the snow after a blanketing?”

I avert my eyes, drawn to the bright lights of the bakery. I scowl. “You can tell him yourself, thank you very much.” I take a deep breath, and straighten my back. Keeping some decorum, hopefully. “We’ve broken up.”

Potter’s eyebrows are up when I glance quickly back to his face. He looks at me, and his face is very controlled. He looks at the bakery. “When?”

I swallow. “Week before Christmas, if you can believe.”

He can’t seem to stop himself from whistling sympathetically. Then he winces. “Sorry.”

I shrug, casually. “No matter.”

He snorts.

“I’m serious” I say, pointlessly.

He crosses his arms and looks hard at me. “Oh yeah? What are you doing here, then? Surely not too many muggleborns turning 11 around this time of year.”

Not to back down, and turn to face him properly and cross my own arms. “You know full well that’s not all I do, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like my point doesn’t still stand. What? You doing a lot of muggleborn house calls the week after new year’s?”

“Not every muggleborn celebrates Christmas and New Year’s.”

“Sure, technically. In reality, though?”

I turn away, and don’t answer his questions. He snorts, but then steps a little closer. We’re facing the bakery, because of course we are. O’ Holy Night plays above us. I wonder who chooses these songs.

I hear him take a deep breath in and out. “I really am sorry.”

I sigh, too. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Draco.”

Two weeks and 5 days. If we’re counting. I don’t say this though.

He bumps my shoulder. “Not to pick at the wound, but what areyou really doing here.”

I consider lying to him again, but we’re not really in the business of doing that. It’d just be a bore. And he’s always been… good about things like this. “Christmas.” I swallow. “It gets lonely, you know.”

He hums.

I kick out at the ground with my foot and it slides a little bit too far, and I end up having to take a step forward to balance myself again – Potter grabs at my arm.

He laughs, a little anxiously. “Never slip and fall, huh?”

I ignore that, my face flushed and hot. “We had a tradition. Wednesday pastries at the bakery. I would assume it’s common decency to let someone know in advance if you’re going to break up with them. So that one can plan for these moments, right?” I close my eyes against the lights of Justin’s bakery, feeling unwelcome. “I apologise. I’m morose. It’s not exactly the post-holiday cheer I’m sure you want on a nice evening.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t call this a nice evening.” My warming charm wears off, and he flicks his wrist for another one to settle over us. He lets go of my upper arm, and puts a hand on my shoulder – drags me around a bit to face him. “Fuck him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not a bad guy, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes right back, and then looks quite serious. “Be a little indulgent with yourself sometimes, Draco.”

I look back at him. He’s only just shorter than me, and I’ve always cherished that fact, but now he almost seems to be towering over me, even with a bit of a slouch to his stand. His messy hair and his shadowed cheeks and under-eyes the likes of which I only really see during the summer break when I’m chaperoning muggle families and their muggleborn children to get their first wands before September. Working too hard. Chained to his desk.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” I blurt out.

His eyes widen. So do mine. The heat in my face expands to a blaze, and I groan as I drop it into my cold gloves. “Merlin, I’m sorry. You just said the indulgent thing, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” He grabs at my wrists lightly and tugs a bit, but I don’t budge. “Draco.”

A clang mutely sounds from just up the street, the usual echo of the door in the cobbled street trapped by the snow. “Draco?” I hear, and look up. Startle, because that’s definitely Justin at the door, surrounded in the glow of the lighting. I take a step back almost without thought, and Harry’s grip on my wrist unfortunately makes me lose my balance. I go right down, and he follows. Right on top of me.

I groan loudly, my head and back and arse all once again wet and cold. Harry groans too, and his warm weight gets off me very quickly, tugging me up by my hands, and then a hand tight on my waist to right me. I don’t step out of his grip immediately, too overcome with the situation. Ready to take another crack at the cobbles and see if this time I brain myself.

“Hell, Draco,” Harry mutters, and then grabs his wand to get the wet and the dirt off the both of us again. Another of his beautiful warming charms settles over my body. “We’re even now, okay? No more falls, for god’s sake.”

Justin has wandered a bit closer by the time I look away from Harry’s face, a little consternated. “Draco? Are you okay? Merlin, what are you doing standing out here?”

I don’t respond. Harry coughs. “That’ll be me. I basically tripped him earlier, and we got talking.”

Justin’s eyes widen just a little, and he looks at Draco in concern. “In this weather? It’s freezing! I’ll grab you mug of spice cider, alright?”

“No,” I say, finally finding my bloody voice again. “No, I’m fine. And anyway.” I shoot a glance at Harry. “We’re tied one-for-one.” Harry smirks.

Justin continues when I look back to him. “Dray, come on. A cup of cider, a bite to eat.”

I shake my head, wanting this day to be done with already. “I’ve got plans.”

Justin eyes get just a little softer. “Come on, please?”

“He does. Have plans.” Potter says, and my neck twinges with how fast I turn to look at him. “We’re going to dinner.”

Justin goggles, just a little, looks between Harry and me. There’s a certain part of me – a different part to the one that’s processing whether or not Harry means what he said about dinner – that’s a little vindictively pleased about Justin’s reaction. “Oh!” Justin says. “Okay, no… No worries!” He meets my eyes, and I flush. “It was good to see you. Please, do come around. The staff miss you, you know.”

I smile politely. “Thanks, Justin.” I stand a little taller, and nod to him. “Take care.”

“You too.” And he grins kindly, lifting a hand to Harry and me, before hastening back into the warm sanctuary of his bakery. The door does its little muted clang again as it closes. My mouth – still sitting in a polite smile – relaxes, leaving a little pain in my cheeks.

Harry hums. “Do you ever think that we’re all a bit toomature now?”

Surprisingly, I laugh loudly at that. I’m nodding even before I get the words out. “Yes. I’d almost wish to be fifteen again and have a real proper tantrum about this.” I sigh, laugh a little again. “But, you know. Fifteen-year-old me? Good riddance.”

“I don’t know…” Harry trails off, “there were some redeeming qualities. He was certainly a creative sort.”

I goggle at him, and immediately stop when I realise that I’m imitating Justin to some extent. “Stop having me on.”

Harry… laughs. “Yeah, I’m having you on. You were a right bastard.”

I shake my head, and turn away from the lights of the bakery, and start walking. He’ll surely catch up.

“I was serious.” Harry says, and I turn my head a little to let him know I’m listening as I walk. “About dinner.”

“I assumed so,” even though that’s a bit of a lie.

“And,” Harry catches up. “I mean ‘dinner’ as in. A date.”

I’m not proud of this, but I slip. Just a little. “Fuck,” I say as I try to catch myself. Thank goodness that Potter’s a bit more onto it, though. He just grabs my arm, and an arm around my back. Straightens me up.

“Bloody hell, I should have talked to him about the snow vanishing,” Harry’s saying as I brush off my cloak to hide my flush. “It’s all the Diagon Business Association talks about during winter, I don’t know what he’s on-”

“Harry.”

He stops and looks at me. Christmas music is still playing, and its still grating, but goodness the lights work well on his complexion. And his eyes.

I smile, just a little. “We’ve got dinner plans, I thought? We could talk about this there, surely?”

He laughs.

#drarry fic #drarry #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfic #this came out of nowhere and was supposed to be something much different before it became this #fluff #pure and simple #and god now all i want is to have 30k of Harry as wandmaker and Draco as the muggleborn liason #brining the little muggleborn kids and their families through Diagon before they go off to Hogwarts #and Harry and Draco learning to like each other through that #and falling kind of just #slowly for each other because of it #and Draco deserves a little date #as a treat

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