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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

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Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you.

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.

“Okay, what now?”

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.

It never comes.

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”

He stares at you.

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that.

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.

Fuck, he really had only one option.

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?”

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated.

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.”

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?”

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.

Fucking finally.

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.”

“See you there.” Sam nods.

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry.

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.

Tony has an idea.

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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lunaslovelyrambles · 3 years

Note

It's canon that Levi is very self conscious about his handwriting since he came from Underground. BUT it's also canon that his handwriting is neat. So how about Levi writing his crush a letter but then decides not to give the letter last minute but too late! His crush saw the letter in his hand and they basically have a tug of war over the letter 💀 I hope this is okay. Thank you ❤️

of course it’s okay!! sorry for the long ass wait.. but thank you for sending this in! it’s such a cute request :)

went w a scenario bc i’m rusty with them! as always feedback + reblogs are appreciated :3

——

levi ackerman

He was screwed, wasn’t he? Yeah, he was totally, and wholeheartedly screwed. The second he felt the wavering in his heart and fluttering in his stomach he knew he was screwed.

Because Levi Ackerman - Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - has a crush.

Levi wasn’t one to focus too heavily on his emotions. Oftentimes he’d dismiss any unusual feelings without any second thought. He didn’t have time for that: any sappy, mushy feelings. He was a soldier first and foremost. That was his duty, and that was his priority above all. He should focus on the fight for humanity and that solely.

So why, why was he so hellbent on getting your attention?

Because he liked you, that’s why. But he didn’t want to admit it. He could die at any second and so could you. Like hell he’d want to form a relationship under those conditions.

Still, pushing his feelings toward you aside didn’t help in the slightest. Every day as he watched you laugh with some of the other cadets he felt his hand clench around his cup. He wanted to sit by your side, hear your beautiful laughs and be with you goddamnit.

Why was this so hard? Why was liking someone romantically so hard?

These thoughts permeated his mind as he stared at his paperwork. His pen had been sitting on the table for quite a while now as he thought, once again, about you. He had long forgotten about what he needed to get done for the night and was purely lost in his thoughts.

Should he tell you? No- what if you rejected him? He’d be crushed and not only that but things would be awkward then.. but what if you said yes? Then he could finally get this off his chest and-

He groaned heavily as he laid his head on his desk, causing some of the papers to crinkle underneath. He couldn’t stop the thoughts from growing louder and louder in his mind. They were all too loud and distracting for him to do anything.

But he couldn’t just go and confess! That wasn’t the kind of person he was! He wasn’t the type to just do something like that.. To him, it was way too embarrassing.

As he laid with his head on his desk an idea suddenly entered his mind. One that would save him some embarrassment while also conveying his feelings perfectly. Well, less embarrassing than directly confessing that is.

A letter.

He could write you a letter. The perfect way to confess his feelings. He could write exactly what he wanted and completely avoid the awkwardness of him telling you. It was only an added plus thay writing a letter was seen as sweet and romantic to most people.

Levi finally picked up his pen and started writing on a new, clean sheet of paper.

-x-

It had been several days since he initially came up with the idea to write you a letter and Levi still hadn’t written one that he liked.

Several balled up sheets of paper could be found stacked in his garbage can, and even more burned in the fireplace.

For some reason he just couldn’t get the wording right. Every time he wrote it it just didn’t seem... right. It didn’t feel good enough, it was too blunt, it was too wordy. Every draft he was just unhappy with. And he kept trying only to be continuously dissatisfied.

He sighed as he set his pen down another time. He looked at the singular sheet of paper and began to reread it.

“Dear (Y/N),

I just wanted to say that - ”

“Whatcha got there?”

Levi nearly fell out of his seat. Standing in the doorway was none other than you. And you were very curious to know what he was holding. For a split second he thought about balling it up and chucking it at you, but his body reacted quicker and shoved it into his desk drawer.

“Why didn’t you knock? Didn’t you learn any manners?” he quickly retorted, but he was still caught off guard by your entry thus causing his words to come out quicker than he would have liked.

You rose an eyebrow and walked further into the room, closing the door behind you.

“I did. Several times actually,” you responded, “What was that paper you shoved into your drawer?”

He swallowed thickly. It would be hard for him to maneuver his way out of this one.

“Why are you here? Do you have something to report?”

“...no. But you haven’t really been out of your office all day. Now answer my question.” As you spoke you inched closer to his desk before standing on the side - the one closest to the drawer with the paper in it.

He didn’t answer. Shit. You were not gonna let this go.

He half expected you to keep harassing him with questions until he either forced you out or gave in. But you chose a third option, which was one he wasn’t expecting.

Which was shoving yourself between him in the drawer, effectively blocking him as you grabbed the letter out. Luckily for him, he regained some sort of mind to fight with you for the paper as it left the drawer.

You tugged on one end and he grabbed the other, neither of you showing any sign of letting go. He really started to begin to regret training you to be so strong.

As he gave one harsh tug, and you doing the same, the letter finally ripped in half from the tension. He had the top half and you had the bottom.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you always go through other people’s stuff without permission?” he looked down at the paper and back up at you. Naturally he was angry with you for taking out the letter without asking, but when he looked up at you his anger slowly dissipated.

Your mouth was slightly parted and your cheeks were slowly heating up as you finished the letter. Your eyes then flickered from the letter up to him. You turned around the letter to face him and pointed at the words on the bottom.

“I really like you, (Y/N), and I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

“Is this... for me?” you softly asked. His mouth formed a thin line as he avoided your gaze, his cheeks now dusted with a faint pink. There was no way he could say no, it wasn’t for you, because your name was literally on the note.

He was beyond embarrassed. He was mortified. His feelings were out in the open now and there was no going back.

Just as he was about to leave the room to avoid the uncomfortable sting of rejection, he heard you giggle. The noise made him glare back at you, and it was that that made you full on laugh.

Now he really felt humiliated.

“I just can’t believe that you fought me tug of war style for this,” your laughing died down a little, “Did you convince yourself that hard that I’d reject you?”

Levi didn’t know what to think anymore.

“I mean.. kind of, yeah,” he still spoke softly, still not looking at you.

“You’d be wrong, then.”

He finally stopped looking at the floor and back at you. You were smiling at him, a big toothy smile and one that he loved seeing every day.

“I thought that letter was, like, you kicking me off your squad. So I thought ‘hey I’ll bite the bullet and take it out even if he’ll hate me for it’ or something I don’t know. I’m sorry for going through your stuff-”

Before you could finish your apology Levi had uncharacteristically pulled you into his chest. He had felt like someone crushed a building on him when you stole that letter out but now? He feels like he just got the best night sleep.

“Don’t. Don’t even worry about it. I’m.. glad you took it. It’s okay,” he smiled into your shoulder as you returned the hug.

Maybe he’ll write you letters more often.

——

masterlist || rules page

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you

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astorxa · 5 years

Text

Merlin’s beard, what is ( ASTORIA GREENGRASS ) doing out at this hour? For a ( PUREBLOOD ) who is ( 16 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE NEUTRALS ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that they’re ( QUESTIONING ) and a ( SLYTHERIN ) student though. They’re very ( + DIPLOMATIC ) and ( + INTELLIGENT ) but also quite ( - ALOOF ) and ( - OVERTHINKING ), which could be why they remind of ( USING DISTRACTIONS TO PASS THE TIME, SWEEPING YOUR HAND ACROSS A RACK OF EXPENSIVE DRESSES, THE YEARNING FOR MORE, A KNOWLEDGE UNQUENCHED ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( SYDNEY PARK ), but I’ve never heard of them.

CHARACTER INSPO: Astrid Leong ( Crazy Rich Asians ), Leila Keating ( All American ), Nancy Wheeler ( Stranger Things ), Laurel Castillo ( HTGAWM ), Peyton Charles ( iZombie ), Celeste Wright ( Big Little Lies ).

EXTRAS: pinterest

ABOUT:

It was a particularly cold day in October, upon a house on a hill in Kent, Astoria Greengrass was born quietly, in the late evening. Even then, she came out of the womb easily without much fuss, the labor was short, she cried once and then not at all. Even from a young age, she displayed the traits of a perfect daughter -- quiet, non questioning ( outwardly ), intelligent, stoic, curious but not too curious ( yet ), poised, obedient. Halloween was just around the corner and the Greengrass’ showed off their new daughter at their annual O’Hallows Eve event, only a little over a week old, she was the apple of their eye. It was like she came into the world to be perfect, seemingly serene, lovely, good. The Greengrass’ while frustrated they couldn’t have any sons, settled for daughters who would make the family name a shining example in the Wizarding World and would make good matches when the time came, they just had to be groomed to get there. It didn’t take much grooming for Astoria to play the part, to become the part, to excel at it like she was born to do so -- much to their pleasure.

She was also kind, inquisitive, sneaky, knowing the more she obeyed the less they’d watch her. At a young age, even though she was younger than many of the pureblood children she hung out with, she was the maternal, caring, quiet, warm presence many of them lacked. A quiet warmth among them, trying to give them the love that none of them got by simply being there, being by their side. If you needed something, go to Astoria. If you wanted something done or needed someone to back you up and legitimize your hijinks, go to Astoria. The only time she deigned to stand up against the adults was in defense of her fellow purebloods, as she felt a camaraderie as well as a responsibility for them she couldn’t really explain. Perhaps, it was the fact that they all had similar upbringings, that they were all practically indoctrinated into a society after the First War that was dying. The Greengrass’s were a dying breed and she easily took on the role of diplomat, of perfect dutiful daughter. She didn’t know anything else even though she longed to.

By the time Astoria was 11, she knew society well. Praised in Witch Weekly as ‘One to Watch’, she made subtle waves within society, going back to her mother’s home in Singapore frequently to further integrate with Pureblood society internationally. The name Astoria Greengrass was known in Pureblood circles and by the time she sixteen, she was fairly popular within them. A perfect socialite, a perfect daughter, a perfect diplomat, she’d been groomed since birth and fit into the role perfectly.

EXCEPT. She wondered. In between the traveling, her parents started to be less lenient with her due to her just being the daughter they didn’t need to worry about ( not that they were the most attentive parents in the first place ) -- she slipped in between the cracks and saw a world that was more than what she was given. The hate they raised her with she realized was fear, which was then countered by her need to know, her curiosity that was once unthreatening, propelled her into muggle cities, into muggle books, muggle music. Of course, she never talked about it, with anyone. But she knew. In her mind, there was so much more than what she had and the longing for it started. A life long love affair with knowledge, never quenched but always thirsty, was born.

That’s when the distractions, the hobbies of sketching, drawing, baking, cooking, reading, became needs. Her mind reeled, her mind saw so much more and realized how her family was on the wrong side of history. Sure, she could enjoy the perks of living, she could enjoy her name & her reputation, the money, the privilege she had of being pureblood, but the morality of it all started to weigh on her heavily. The older she got, the more she read about the dead during the First War. The people her family had helped slaughtered ( at least, they were neutral/DE leaning -- by proxy their blood was on her hands ). The people her Ministry parents had let slide, the people who came in and out of their home who were objectively bad people. She baked, though she wasn’t the best. She painted, she sketched, she made clothing designs of ornate dresses, some of which were brought to fruition and many of which were actually worn by Astoria. Witch Weekly asked her when her clothing line was coming out and Astoria became motivated to actually make one. Not due to desire, but due to the guilt of her life weighing down on her more and more -- instead of doing something about it, standing up to her family, Merlin forbid betraying them, she fell deeper down the rabbit hole of her life. They wanted a clothing line of evening gowns? Astoria would deliver. Brands wanted her to wear their clothing? She did and made them her own. Astoria got better and better at living a life that she felt horrible living because what other option did she have?

Astoria was a true hatstall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. He saw she was a wonderer, someone who had an unsatisfied need to learn about everything, that she would soar if she was to be an eagle. The hat kept trying to convince her that Ravenclaw was where she belonged, after all she read books, practically soaked up knowledge like a dry sponge & valued it extremely — but being away from her family? Away from the big sister she loved with all her heart and soul, the people she grew up with? Astoria was a Greengrass, but more importantly she held her value of family above anything else. After a few minutes, the hat saw this, it realized that maybe she did belong in Slytherin after all and let her go. Green robes adorned her, and she joined the House of Snakes with a superficial smile. Because underneath all of that, she was nervous, that maybe she had made a mistake. This was something that she often wondered but was able to push it away for years, happy that she was with the people she loved.

The Hat wasn’t wrong in the end, Astoria Greengrass belonged in Slytherin even if she was a Ravenclaw. She didn’t just belong there because of her last name or her company, but because of cowardice born from self-preservation and the deep need to be loyal to her family, to be by her sister’s side, though not prominent in all Slytherin wizards, was in her veins. Doing the right thing seemed much worse than betrayal, saying something against what she was taught was practically betrayal, so she kept her mouth glued shut. Astoria seemingly turned a blind eye to the budding war around her ( even though that was very much not the case, which was worse ), following her sister dutifully as a Greengrass as a socialite, even if she would’ve rather been home reading many of the books she had collected ( even if some where muggle and not allowed, she hid them under her bed & floorboards ). At 16 almost 17 years old, she’s more conflicted but down the rabbit hole than ever -- a small line of designer gowns under her belt, Witch Weekly’s endless love & praise being named Witch Weekly’s Jr. Socialite Of The Year -- something that weighs heavy on her. Her parents are pleased but Astoria is finding it harder and harder to adorn herself with beautiful clothing and look in the mirror like she isn’t as guilty as the Death Eaters by simply standing idly by. "The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis. " Astoria thinks about this quote. Often.

Underneath the grace and demure demeanor is not someone you want to piss off. With a sharp tongue and a sharper mind, Astoria could easily tear someone down, pick someone apart, so observant and very wry, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t need to and realized at a young age that she would gain more with being adored & loved than being feared -- but it doesn’t mean she can’t. This distinction is important. She bites her tongue, she swallows the blood, but it doesn’t mean she can’t draw it if necessary.

EXTRA FACTZ:

alright i’m gonna stop bc i usually write long intros and i’m trying to learn the art of brevity

ISFJ & libra

has a cat named asteria because she thought it was funny tbh

patronus: swan

none of that blood curse BS bc cursed child isnt valid in my house!!!!!!

boggart: her sister’s dead body which signifies letting her family down and the person she loves most down, losing her family as well

if u didn’t already know daphne is everything to her

plays piano and violin

loves the stars and star jewelry, she does kinda like astrology too

questions her gender v v deep down, doesn’t really acknowledge or talk about it and doesn’t feel there’s room to

knows she aint straight though and is cool with it

buy the stars by marina and the diamonds is her SONG

always looking good. always looking fresh. she dresses up that uniform with so much jewelry, she looks GOOD AT ALL TIMES and is always wearing some sort of jewelry. designer everything on hogsmeade weekends. like ur girl is looking fresh 2 DEATH

it’s astoria or ria, even then only a few people can call her ria. it’s astoria or bust lol! none of that tori shit!

is something of a wine expert?? she’s real posh tbh. she went to italy (1) time and was like wow i am cultivating a Love of Wine and has done so

#potter intro #i gtg to get ready for bed now but!!! im excited!!!

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its-love-u-asshole · 7 years

Text

Slipping Underneath [Ch. 1]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Tsukishima was in some deep shit he realized, but common sense told him he should have been rather happy about the discovery he'd just made. Of course, that didn't stop him from freaking out.

"Tsukki? Did something happen?" Bokuto asked.

Dejected, the blond lifted his head, giving Bokuto the flattest stare he could manage. "The neighbor downstairs hates my voice."

Rating: T

Tags: soulmates, mythology/sirens AU, some iwaoi and bokuaka thrown in bc why not, first meetings, fluff, Kuroo is a nerd and Tsukki can’t help but be charmed, Siren!Tsukki, Siren!Bokuto

Note: Yes, I know I started another multichapter, I’m sorry, please forgive these sins of mine. I couldn’t resist a sirens/soulmate AU tho?? I had the sudden inspo and ofc this was born, enjoy! <3 Big thanks to @allykat023 and @emeraldwaves for reading this over!

AO3

The first time he heard the voice, it was because he'd been marooned on the patio of his apartment. His apartment. It was almost more degrading than when he was sexiled to the common room of his freshman dorms. He was a third year now though, this was his own property damnit.

When Kenma had decided to move into a place with Hinata, Kuroo had been forced to room with a certain overly social setter. He liked Oikawa, he really did. Well, when he wasn't being too dramatic or nosy anyways...

They got along fine, great actually. It was only when Iwaizumi visited from his university every other weekend that Kuroo found himself setting up camp on his spacious, yet boring as hell balcony.

At least the glass was thick enough to drown out any noise...

Kuroo shuddered, remembering the time he'd ventured inside for a glass of water, walking past Oikawa's bedroom...

Yeah, no. He'd learned a lot since then, had come a long way from his days as a young fool (three months ago). Now he prepared his food and drink ahead of time, almost like he was going on a picnic. This way, he never had to hear those...sounds come from Oikawa's room ever again. Even worse, Kuroo was not about to deal with Oikawa's smug face in the morning, knowing he heard everything. At least Iwaizumi had the decency to be embarrassed and smack Oikawa across the head.

So yeah, patio.

It sounded crappy, but despite the loud sex Oikawa seemed bent on having, Kuroo didn't really mind being relocated for a few hours. It gave him time to study, since he was without television or outlets. It was exactly what he needed, and he could count on those nights outside to get all his coursework done for the following week. It was a brutal study session, but it was worth it. While everyone else struggled to catch up on assignments during the week, he could go out, and play video games to his heart's content. Oikawa said he needed to get laid; and while it might've been true, Kuroo wasn't compelled to actively look for a partner right then. If something happened, it happened.

So when the usual Oikawa and Iwaizumi sex marathon finally came along one fateful Saturday night later than usual, Kuroo swore it was fate.

Kuroo had taken his usual chair on the patio, satisfied the weather wasn't too muggy for once. Perfect for studying. He had set out all his highlighters and pens, ready as ever for a night of expert note taking, but as he sank into the chair's cushions with his psychology textbook sitting on his lap, he'd heard it.

And oh how he wish he hadn't.

The melody, if it could be called that, invaded his space, punching his ear drums. The pure horribleness of the voice as it sang was enough to make his head shoot up, his ears straining and begging Kuroo to get away. It was awful enough to make him wonder if someone could die from it. The voice was bad, if he was being nice about it; and oh, he was really trying to be nice about it. But it made his brain melt, and all thoughts of studying disintegrated in favor of escape. Even the sounds of Oikawa getting pounded into the bed were a better option than this torture.

Kuroo almost felt guilty. After all, this was just some random soul who wanted to sing on their balcony. Kuroo had no say in it, and it wasn't like Kuroo's voice was anything to brag about. He should just grin and bear it, but...

Jesus fuck.

How could he possibly work through such a horrid sound?

It was a guy's voice, that much he could tell despite the screeching quality of it. As Kuroo stood to try and find the source though, he became confused. There was no one on either of the balconies beside his, and every second the song persisted, the harder it was to trace it. It was like the sound was all encompassing, coming from every direction at once, burning Kuroo's ear canals and twisting his insides. How was no one else hearing it?

There were quite a few guys loitering around down below the apartments, but they looked like they were having a fine time, blissful even.

Where the hell...

Was he getting pranked?

The song continued as he searched, the rough tones pulling Kuroo like a magnet even though his ears were probably bleeding. Oh well, he still had his eyes. Maybe the price of hearing aids had gone down...

Focus man!

Kuroo groaned, trying to employ the problem solving skills he'd spent years cultivating.

Eventually, and mostly because he couldn't take it anymore, he figured the only place it could be coming from was above him. There was one floor up after his, and since the apartments were dirt cheap, there was hardly any space between them. Risks be damned, Kuroo jumped up without hesitation, grabbing hold of the higher balcony's railing and using his strength to pull himself up. It might've been stupid, and shit he definitely could've fallen to his death. However, that song would drive him nuts and kill him anyways if he allowed it to continue.

Please...make it stop...

Kuroo groaned as he found his footing, easily hooking his legs over the rails after doing so. He was out of breath, and he dared not look at how high up he was or think about how the fuck he was going to get back down. He'd made it. He'd figure the rest out as he went.

As soon as he'd plopped down on the railing, the banshee screeching had ceased, and Kuroo thought he was gonna cry in relief.

Thank god.

Wiping the sweat on his brow, Kuroo looked up, scanning the small patio in seconds until his eyes finally landed on the apartment's inhabitant.

And wow, what a sight.

The blond was frozen where he stood, watering can in hand as he moved to rearrange a pot of tulips, one leg stretched out awkwardly in front of him like he'd been mid-step.

Even in such a ridiculous pose, Kuroo could say the blond was nothing short of stunning. Long legs, pale skin, and warm, golden eyes hidden behind black frames.

He was breathtaking, and Kuroo almost refused to believe such an awful sound had come from such a beauty. Kuroo felt his protests and excuses die in his throat, partly from the fact he was standing in front of a god, and partly because his position did not look good.

Here he was, in stained sweatpants and a sweatshirt, looking like some pathetic second rate burglar while his runway model neighbor seemed two seconds away from running.

It would've been hilarious, had the blond not looked like he was debating on whether to stab Kuroo with the nearby trowel before he left.

Somehow, the thought of a death by garden tool shook Kuroo out of whatever trance he was in, because he managed to find his voice a few seconds later.

"Okay," he began, gradually stepping onto the patio, his ears ringing from their previous abuse. "I know this looks bad, but your singing--"

All of a sudden, the blond groaned, his scowl powerful enough to kill a weaker man. Fearlessly, he grabbed the trowel--called it--and held it up in Kuroo's direction, the threat clear. Come closer, die.

It should not have been as hot as it was.

"How many times do I have to tell you people I'm not interested? Fuck off," the blond hissed, his annoyance clear. Although, given the situation, he was a lot more composed than Kuroo expected. If this was how the other responded to break ins, he was a lot better off than he and Oikawa.

The blond lowered his voice to a mumble, speaking almost to himself rather than to Kuroo as the awkwardness between them intensified. "To think not even living on the top floor helped..."

Huh?

Okay, Kuroo had to find his voice right then and there, lest he be charged with trespassing.

"Um wait, I can explain," Kuroo said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I was just--ha, I was trying to study...I live below you by the way so uh, hey there. I'm Kuroo Tetsurou."

Kuroo grinned, hoping his charm would help to win the other over, but all it got him was the most unimpressed stare he'd ever seen. The blond's eye twitched in irritation, his aura just as menacing as before.

Yet still so pretty.

"I don't care who you are, get off my balcony," the other demanded, not letting up on his threatening pose.

Kuroo sighed. Today really wasn't his day. To think he couldn't reassure people as well as he used to...

He'd really have to work on his debate skills if he wanted to pass his public speaking class.

"Ah okay, okay! Sorry, I'll leave. I just came up here because your singing...it was a bit distracting and--"

"I don't want a boyfriend," the blond deadpanned, his scowl deepening.

Oh wow alright, that's random.

Kuroo shook his head, trying to decide what was the next best course of action, considering none of what he wanted to say was getting across. Better just to be upfront about it.

"Um okay, me neither. I mean, I'm not opposed, and you look...wow but shit wait--" Kuroo went on uselessly, and he was getting pretty damn tired of tripping over his own tongue. Not cool. Groaning up to the sky, he clasped his hands together, fixing the blond with the sternest look he could muster. "I just came to ask you if you could please stop singing. It’s making it hard to study, and I need to get this work done."

Kuroo said it so fast, he was worried the blond didn't hear him, especially from the way silence seemed to descend on them again, the other blinking at him in shock. Ah shit, there's the guilt.

The thing was, Kuroo couldn't justify himself beyond that. It wasn't that the singing was just distracting, it was downright terrible, but he was way too nice to come out and say it. He prayed the other would stop without asking too many questions.

The blond's face contorted several times, each expression no less attractive on the other's face, no matter how displeased they were. From shock, to anger, and then back to shock. The other's face eventually settled on pure confusion.

The silence was moving into painful territory now, and Kuroo thought he was was better off retreating to his own apartment, Oikawa's atrocious sex moans be damned.

The blond blinked slowly, his hands lowering until the trowel fell to the floor, the loud clang echoing into the night air. "You...want me to stop singing?"

His voice was bland, cold, but Kuroo could pick up on slightest note of disbelief in there too. It made him wince. Great, this was what he'd wanted to avoid. He had to be careful now, the last thing he wanted was a neighbor who hated his guts.

"Yeah...sorry. I mean it's not like I'm a music critic or anything I mean--"

"Why?" The blond's question was sharp, straight to the point, asking the question Kuroo desperately didn't want to answer. Kuroo only prayed this guy wasn't too sensitive about this kind of thing. He didn't want another ex-theater kid lecturing him about how he couldn't recognize true talent. Been there, done that.

To be blunt or to lie...

Damn his own morals. "It wasn't to my tastes...I guess?" It was so painful I wanted to rip my ears off. "But I'm sure it definitely is to some people." Demons. "I for sure can't sing so--"

"You thought it was bad."

It was less curious and more certain, like an observation, and Kuroo started to feel a bit uncomfortable (and maybe weirdly excited) under the blond's gaze. Those golden eyes might as well have been boring into his soul, searching for...well, he didn't know.

Kuroo swallowed. "Well--"

"Yes or no."

The irritation from the blond was more than noticeable now; and whatever, Kuroo had already botched this whole encounter. "Yeah, it...it wasn't great."

So much for getting this guy's number. Kuroo felt himself deflate a little, expecting the other to start coming at him with much deserved insults. Only, it didn't happen. At all.

The blond nodded his head slowly, and Kuroo's fully recovered hearing picked up on his shaky exhale. Kuroo thought he could read people pretty well based on their mannerisms and expressions, but he didn't have a clue what any of that meant. It was like the blond was shocked, but trying his damn best to not show it.

There was another beat of tense silence before the other seemed to snap out of his daze, his scowl returning tenfold. Kuroo stopped breathing.

"Fine, I'll stop. Can you leave now?"

Kuroo blinked, exhaling all at once as the blond turned his back to him. It was a clear gesture, one Kuroo had no problem reading, and yeah...he'd overstayed his welcome.

Definitely not getting that number.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Thanks..." Kuroo trailed off stiffly, sparing the other one last glance and noticing the tenseness of his shoulders. The guilt was back again, but Kuroo knew trying to fix the situation now wouldn't help. He'd apologize properly some other time.

Turning his attention back to the railing, Kuroo scaled down the balcony back onto his own, his thoughts filled with nothing but his neighbor's face for the rest of the night.

This was not good.

Tsukishima stared at the wall as the cake on his plate sat untouched, piping exquisite and begging to be devoured. To think he was actually too distracted to eat dessert. Yeah, not good at all. Absurd too, stupid even. There was no reason for him to be freaking out.

In spite, he glared down at his cake, picking up his fork before stabbing the soft sponge and shoveling a good half of the piece into his mouth. Motherfucker.

The cake tasted sweet, moist with rich frosting and just the right ratio of sponge to cream. It embodied everything he could've wanted from a dessert, and yet his face still set itself in a sour expression.

Tsukishima stomped his foot on the floor, as if it would somehow affect the neighbor below him. The one with the atrocious bedhead, the cause of all his problems.

Annoying.

"Tsukishima, is something wrong?" Akaashi's smooth voice, calm and expectant--because yes, he probably knew there was indeed something wrong--forced Tsukishima out of his thoughts.

Tsukishima glanced up to the kitchen island where Akaashi sat, his posture far too elegant for someone wearing owl patterned sweats. It didn't stop him from being observant though. Tsukishima probably should've been more careful about it; but at the same time, he knew the other would find out eventually.

After more prolonged silence, Akaashi prodded further, knowing it was usually the only way to nudge Tsukishima. “Because you know you can tell me.”

For some reason, it made Tsukishima sigh into the space between them, knowing he’d have to get this off his chest if he wanted to stay sane. Plus, there wasn’t any harm in it.

Tsukishima kept his friend group small yes; but that also meant he held a decent degree of trust for each of the people in it. Akaashi was the best person to go to with these issues anyways, since he tended to be the most rational.

Yamaguchi always shed a good light on things, but he was away at another university. And besides, the freckled boy tended to lean more towards an overly optimistic approach which Tsukishima wasn't too fond of pursuing at this point. He had to be sure first, and even then...he didn't owe anything to anyone.

Setting down his fork, Tsukishima fixed the other with the most neutral stare he could manage, lest he give anything away too soon. Tsukishima clenched his fists, his dull nails managing to leave imprints in his palm. This was humiliating, but he needed to know.

"Akaashi," he began, steeling himself as he willed away another scowl. "Would you mind...listening to me sing?"

The other's grey eyes widened considerably, an unusual event when considering Akaashi's calm nature. “Oh, well…”

Yeah, Tsukishima knew the question was unexpected. He didn’t blame his friend for the shock.

Tsukishima hated singing. It was his least favorite thing to do, if it made the damn list at all. Not to say he didn't love music, but singing was a different story. It attracted attention, it brought unwanted advances. He associated singing with everyone's eyes on him, and he loathed it more than anything. Yet, he couldn't help but sing. It came so damn naturally to him, to the point that sometimes he wasn't aware he was even doing it until someone came up to him.

Or climbed his balcony.

Ugh.

That was the thing...

At the end of the day, he didn't have a choice but to sing. He could very well die if he didn't. That's what happened to sirens.

Cursed with fatally beautiful voices, ones which used to lure men to their deaths centuries ago, sirens both thrived and withered due to their gifts. And of course, Tsukishima happened to descend from a community of them. He blamed his mother.

He had been a siren since the day he was born; and his voice had reached maturity sometime in high school, a powerful weapon. Or well, it would've been, had he not lived in the 21st century. Being a siren was pretty useless now, apart from getting hordes of guys to do the occasional bidding, or for winning singing contests.

In addition to his virtually unnecessary gift, being a siren came with a lot of difficulties. If he didn't sing enough, he'd grow sickly and die; and if he sang too much...he could lose his voice completely.

The former was generally what afflicted his kind in the modern age though. And despite his dislike for singing, it wasn't a problem. Tsukishima had grown used to singing in the privacy of his own home to keep healthy.

However...this issue was a new one, one he'd hoped to never deal with. Being told his song wasn't calming to the human ear...it worried him.

If a siren's voice was no longer pleasing to humans, it meant the siren could be dying.

Tsukishima's pulse sped up at the thought, his future goals and achievements flashing before his eyes as he willed himself to not jump to conclusions. He wouldn't panic, not until it was confirmed.

Akaashi was a human, one who knew about Tsukishima's predicament. He'd be honest with him.

Tsukishima took a few more deep breaths, feeling the anxiety subside a bit as he forced himself to make eye contact with Akaashi again.

If his balcony hopping neighbor thought his singing had been anything less than perfect and ended up being right, it could be Tsukishima's life on the line. That or it was the alternative, the only other explanation for his singing being atrocious, and Tsukishima refused to entertain that idea without eliminating the other options.

God, kill me.

"Sure," Akaashi began, stunned at Tsukishima's request. "But, why do you--"

"Hey hey!" Bokuto's voice boomed through the humble apartment, the door frame rattling along with the wall as he slammed the door shut. "What's goin on?"

Ah, great.

Akaashi lit up at the sound of his boyfriend, although it was mostly undetectable to anyone who wasn't used to the other's subtle facial changes. To anyone else, Akaashi probably looked bored, but Tsukishima could see him practically glowing.

They were disgusting.

Regardless, even Tsukishima couldn't deny the fact they were hopelessly in love. He'd known Bokuto since childhood, having grown up in the same small community of sirens in their hometown. Bokuto was just like him, albeit way more optimistic in nature. Tsukishima didn't think he could possibly grow any happier, until he'd met Akaashi.

Tsukishima couldn't complain then either, since he'd grown rather close to Bokuto's boyfriend as well.

Tsukishima watched them as Bokuto's hand slid along Akaashi's arm, both of them comfortable with the touch, leaning into each other as if no one else existed in the world.

The peaceful expression on Akaashi's face remained up until Bokuto started to hum in contentment, a habit he had never managed to break. Then the setter's nose was scrunching up in distaste, his eyes flashing as if he'd been struck.

Ah, and there it was.

Akaashi clutched Bokuto's shirt with unrivaled insistence. "Koutarou--"

Bokuto snapped out of his daze, kicked from his reality while the guilt washed over him. He'd gotten better at being mindful, but well, it was a siren's instinct to make music. He was bound to slip up once in a while.

Bokuto cut the humming, and he cradled Akaashi's face in apology, placing a loud kiss to the setter's cheek while Tsukishima focused his gaze on the cracks in the table.

Again, disgusting.

Bokuto's voice radiated nothing but sincerity as he pulled away. "Sorry Keiji, I forgot. It wasn't that bad was it?"

"Mm," Akaashi said, and he shook his head, his smile somewhat amused. "It wasn't. You stopped."

Bokuto fist pumped at the accomplishment, looping his arm around Akaashi's shoulders after he'd fully relaxed. His eyes were back to their normal brightness, the concern gone. "Yes! Soon I'll have that down!"

Tsukishima rolled his eyes along with Akaashi, but it was full of fondness.

"Anyways, what are we talkin' bout?" Bokuto slouched further into his chair, his wide eyes homing in on Tsukishima's unfinished cake. "Obviously there's a reason you haven't devoured that."

"Tsukishima wants to sing for me," Akaashi said, tone concerned in a way which made Tsukishima feel silly for actually bringing his issue up. Maybe he was overreacting. "Why--"

"Tsukki," Bokuto hissed, standing up so quickly Tsukishima flinched, his golden eyes focusing in on the blond with an almost predator like accuracy. "Are you trying to seduce Keiji?"

The silence between them would've been comical had Tsukishima had any patience for Bokuto that day.

Are you serious?

Sensing Tsukishima's growing murderous intent, Akaashi jumped in, soothing his boyfriend with a touch to the shoulder. "Koutarou...I doubt that's what's happening."

"But--"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Tsukishima said through gritted teeth. "Can you just listen to me sing? I'll explain after."

Bokuto's sharp gaze morphed into puppy dog eyes in a flash, his mouth forming a pout as if he'd been told he'd be sleeping outside. Tsukishima didn't necessarily like making Bokuto feel bad, after all, they'd grown up together. He was used to Bokuto, found his mannerisms to be rather endearing even, but Tsukishima couldn't take any more interruptions.

To say he was freaking out was an understatement. He had to know what was wrong.

Akaashi's brow furrowed, the concern clearly there, and he nodded. Bokuto must've also sensed the rapid mood change, since he sat down without much complaint, eyes never leaving the blond's.

Well, here goes.

It had been years since Tsukishima had sang for an audience, even for Bokuto, one of his own kind, but he couldn't get shy now. Taking a deep breath, Tsukishima closed his eyes, letting the words flow out of his mouth until he spun a melody all his own.

"Take my hand, come towards the sea, and with every wave, you'll be safe with me. Don't fear the crash, don't mind the rocks, just know I'll guide you past it all."

The notes formed, slow and sure, and the orchestra in Tsukishima's head began to pick up, the assigned parts and instruments knowing exactly where to jump in, where to fit. This song he knew better than any other, had let it travel and burn itself into his soul. The song flowed, the notes amplified. Sometimes they faded into nothingness, lost in the sea of music he created.

And really, this was what he did love about singing at the end of the day. Not putting people under a spell, not enticing men to do his bidding—though in his high school years it had been fun. No, it was the melodies and magic of the song itself. It calmed him, washed away any troubles until he was like the barren shore. Peaceful, cool, but so alive beneath the surface.

Even someone like him, with his rationality and cynicism couldn't deny any of that.

This he could do forever, but his time might've very well been up, and the thought cruelly brought an end to the lightness in his chest.

Tsukishima ceased, clearing his throat as he opened his eyes. Akaashi hadn't asked him to stop the whole time, so he assumed it was a good sign, but who knew. Sometimes Tsukishima got too lost in his own music, he wouldn't have noticed. Maybe it was so bad, the raven had left the room in agony, or--

"Tsukishima."

His eyes snapped up to meet Akaashi's, catching the sight of dilated pupils as Akaashi came down from the high which sirens could elicit. The haze was still there, the spell just barely starting to undo itself. Akaashi shook his head rapidly, attempting to snap out of it for good.

Bokuto sat next to him, pouting with his arms crossed. Baby.

"Sorry, I feel like my brain turned off for a second there," Akaashi said, holding a hand to his head as his mind began to work again. "I'm not sure what you're worried about though. Your singing is as good as ever, as I'm sure you could see from the effects..."

Tsukishima sighed audibly, uncaring of what his friends thought. He slouched in his chair, the tension rolling out of him. He wasn't dying. His voice was appealing to humans. Nothing about it had changed, and he was going to be okay. His life wasn't over.

Tsukishima felt his relief for about two more seconds before the panic set in. The other panic, the one which came from the alternative reason he had to be worried about his voice.

His singing was fine; it had the same effects it had always had. It was enticing, alluring even. The only human who thought otherwise, lived right below him.

No.

That guy, his neighbor, with his untamed hair and impressive strength. The one who had no qualms about trespassing on someone else's property, the one too polite for his own good.

He had hated Tsukishima's voice. He had been physically pained by the sound of it, and that only meant one thing. Tsukishima wasn't an idiot, he knew. He'd been warned about this all his life.

He'd fucking seen it happen. At the thought, his eyes shot up to Bokuto and Akaashi, looking between them like a starved animal.

Oh no. No. No, nope, not happening.

Bokuto turned to his boyfriend, the peeved expression having never left his face. "Hmph, I can sing just as good Akaashi! I--"

"Yes, yes," Akaashi cut Bokuto off with the softest of smiles, though the amusement was apparent. Tsukishima couldn't take any joy in it, or return the smile Akaashi threw him. "I'm sure you can. Too bad I'll never know."

And it was true. Akaashi would never think Bokuto's singing was anything but atrocious, torturous in fact. Such was the way of a siren's soulmate. The one person who couldn't stand a siren's song was the person they were meant to fall in love with.

I'm going to be sick.

"It's not fair! Tsukishima doesn't even know what it's like," Bokuto ranted, unaware of the internal crisis going on right across the table. "I can't wait til he meets his soulmate, and they think his singing is awf--"

"I don't have a soulmate," Tsukishima said, his voice sharp. He'd been unable to stop himself. He couldn't help it. The realization was barely settling in, boiling inside him. It couldn't be. It was a mistake. "There's no way...."

His neighbor was not his soulmate. It wasn't possible. They didn't know each other at all, Tsukishima had no idea if they were compatible in any way, shape, or form. And while Tsukishima's brain unhelpfully pointed out how it was that way for most people, Tsukishima was bent on finding any reason to nullify this new finding.

This guy had just had hearing issues...or something.

Tsukishima put his head in his hands, knowing he was being childish at this point. He heard Bokuto's chair move, a sign he had gotten up, and seconds later he was most definitely crouched at Tsukishima's side, radiating warmth.

"Tsukki? Did something happen?" Bokuto asked, and it was so unbelievably caring, Tsukishima couldn't take it.

Dejected, the blond lifted his head, giving Bokuto the flattest stare he could manage. "The neighbor downstairs hates my voice."

Saying it aloud hit it home, and Tsukishima's body sagged in defeat, his stomach swirling in irritation and...something else he didn't want to think about. He didn't get butterflies. That was not happening.

Despite the part of him which continued to hope this was all a misunderstanding, he already knew how this would go down from Akaashi's shocked expression and Bokuto's excited cheering. This problem was not going away.

Not by a long shot.

It wasn't until Tsukishima was getting his mail the next morning that they met again.

"Hey there," Kuroo said, leaning against the mailboxes with no qualms about keeping a reasonable distance between them. Tsukishima jumped slightly, slamming his box shut a bit too loudly for the hour, stunned by the intensity of the other's eyes.

Well, that and whatever was going on with his hair.

Tsukishima debated walking away without responding, but he felt like this guy wasn't the type to let something like this go. He'd climbed a damn balcony after all; he was obviously capable of being quite persistent if he had something he needed to say.

"Morning," Tsukishima muttered, focusing on the various bills and letters in his hand instead of falling into the trap of the other's stare. It was shockingly difficult, and it pissed him off more. He wasn't supposed to like this guy, despite every other indication that he should. Tsukishima was a stubborn asshole sometimes. If this guy was so special, he could prove it to Tsukishima the old fashioned way. The blond refused to make it easy.

Yet, there were some things he couldn't ignore. Tsukishima used pushing up his glasses as an excuse to sneak a peek at the other every now and again, and yeah fine, he was handsome. Broad shoulders, strong physique, a teasing smile...

It was irritating for a variety of different reasons, but mostly because Tsukishima couldn't find it in himself to hate this guy, a complete stranger.

"So look," Kuroo said, his easy going posture taking a turn towards awkward, embarrassed even. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweats, rocking on his heels. "I'm sorry if I offended you the other night. I seriously didn't mean to, it wasn't my--"

"It's fine, it doesn't matter," Tsukishima said, his tone brisk. He tried not to let the flush rise to his cheeks, but he felt like he'd lost that battle from the way Kuroo grinned at him. And well, it was true. It didn't matter. Tsukishima was stubborn, but he wasn't about to blame Kuroo for something he couldn't control. Tsukishima's voice was truly painful for him, and he couldn't resist wanting the pain to stop.

The fact Kuroo actually apologized for his rudeness despite that made Tsukishima's stomach flip, a pleasant tingling traveling up his spine. Tsukishima looked up at Kuroo fully then, causing him to flush in a much similar fashion.

God. This was stupid.

"Ah well, cool. Great!" Kuroo cleared his throat, rifling a hand through his hair. Cute. "Because since we're neighbors and all, I wanted to make sure we...got along."

"Oh?" Tsukishima arched a brow, and he felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards involuntarily. "I didn't realize we were school children."

Kuroo faltered, his eyes widening as if he were a child, and Tsukishima had to hide his smile behind his hand. "Oh, well--"

"And it's not like we're roommates, so there's really no requirement for us to get along," he continued, keeping his voice as level as possible, almost bored. What he said was true after all, but he also just wanted to give the other a hard time. Again, Tsukishima was not going to make this easy. This was who the fates had given him as a soulmate, the one who they thought was there to bring out the best in him. If he couldn't handle this, then Tsukishima would know the universe had made a mistake.

Tsukishima wasn't the easiest to impress. He had high walls which took a fair amount of time to climb over, but it wasn't an impossible feat.

As much as the idea of soulmates intimidated him and made him skeptical, he wouldn't push away a connection if there was meant to be one. He'd grown a lot from his standoffish, cold high school days. He had Bokuto and Akaashi, as well as his family, and he cared for them immensely. However, those connections were natural, not forced.

He'd accept nothing less from anyone, not even his predestined lover.

Kuroo stared at him for a second too long in Tsukishima's opinion, analyzing him. He was fairly shameless about it too, considering the few times Tsukishima caught him glancing below the neck.

Kuroo knew it too, from the way he smirked, slow and leisurely. He knew exactly what he was doing, making his flirtiness clear. What a dork. This side of him had been absent when he'd climbed Tsukishima's damn balcony. Although, he'd said Tsukishima looked "wow," so that was a good indication.

Tsukishima felt his cheeks heat up more, and he cursed himself. So unacceptable.

"What if I want to get along?" Kuroo asked, and wow did he wink at me. He fucking winked at me.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have broken into my apartment."

"Hey! It was just the balcony."

"Trespassing."

"I'm a model citizen."

"Leaving the scene of a crime."

"You asked me to leave!"

"And who will the police trust?" Tsukishima shrugged, not bothering to hide a smirk of his own now that he had Kuroo floundering. It wasn't everyday he found someone who he could banter with so smoothly. Kuroo was downright ridiculous though.

"You're evil you know that?" Kuroo's grin betrayed his words as he spoke, and Tsukishima neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. "Wouldn't have expected that from someone with tulips on their back porch."

Tsukishima grunted while Kuroo laughed at his own joke, all too amused with himself. The laugh wasn't full bodied, but it rang genuine regardless, the sound weirdly sweet to Tsukishima's ears whether it was at his expense or not. Kuroo wiped fake tears from his eyes, prompting an eye roll out of the blond.

"Nah, I'm sure gardening is a menacing field. Ha, get it. Fie--"

"I heard it the first time, please don't make me hear it again."

And with that, Tsukishima walked off, all too aware that he was probably now running late for his first class. He glanced over his shoulder, something tugging at him to turn around and look at Kuroo once more.

It was the first of many mistakes. Kuroo was smiling at him, way too fond for someone he'd just met, dopey almost. It stopped the blond dead in his tracks, his breath stalling abnormally. That look...it was neither fair nor logical in any form.

"Hey, what's your name? I don't think I ever asked," Kuroo said with a soft laugh. "Too busy trespassing and what not."

Tsukishima paused, biting his lip. Normally, he wouldn't give the information away, simply because he didn't know Kuroo too well. But part of him felt the weird inevitability surrounding the situation. Not that they'd end up being anything meaningful to each other, but that this wasn't the last time they'd meet.

"Tsukishima Kei," he answered, surprised there was hardly any hesitation there. It was as if it was natural, intimate even, giving Kuroo his name.

So silly honestly, but the fact didn't erase the feeling. Especially not when Kuroo was smiling at him so openly.

"See you around then, Tsukishima."

The blond didn't answer as he turned, but from the way heat traveled to the back of his neck, he figured he didn't have to.

#kurotsuki #kurotsukki #haikyuuwriters #haikyuu!!#adri writing

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