They’re Cute Yall Are Just Mean

20 | She/Her | Certified word vomit | Play the Hello Charlotte series, I’m begging

[opossum-rights]

Short Intro

Welcome to my blog! Here I focus on interacting with fandom content and writing fanfiction.

You can call me Gin, but I don’t mind anything else. I’m 19 and I go by she/her pronouns. 

Some of the media I’m interested in are SIGNALIS, JJK, Twisted Wonderland, Obey Me, Genshin Impact, MHA, CSM, Houseki no Kuni/Land of the Lustrous, Project Sekai, Bang Dream, and a wide range of rpg maker games and visual novels.

I won’t write for some of these, but I’d love to talk about them.

Feel free to send me a DM or request!

MltDwn on ao3

Masterlist

[opossum-rights]

Learn to Live a Little

You have everything you’ve ever wanted, though that isn’t saying much. You thought you’d be happy with just a stable job and your own apartment, but the days start to blur together in a gray fog. The only escape from the monotony you have are video games and your phone; you can rely on the characters to be there for you when no one else is. That line of thinking becomes more true than ever when your favorite character wakes up next to you one morning.

Word Count, 3.1k

Your head hurts, your back hurts, your heart hurts; everything seems to be aching these days. You'd rather not think of the possibility that it might come with age. Only in your mid-twenties, you feel too young but too old simultaneously.

Aches, headaches, and fatigue. You can’t remember the last time you felt normal. Starting from high school you’d only barely make it through the day, going home and straight to sleep, being unable to do homework or even straighten up without resting. The same routine continued through college and now persists at your current stage of life.

It’s nothing special, just a simple office job where you stare at a screen for 8 hours straight, occasionally having to do other menial tasks that take only a tiny bit more brain power.

But you’re more than happy with it. You have decent pay that covers your basic needs and allows you some spending money every month; that’s more than you had when you were a kid. You remember back in school when everyone talked about their big plans for the future; how they were going to be a doctor, be a teacher, be an engineer. They spoke with such passion, something you could never match. To you, it didn’t matter if you liked the work or not, only that it allowed you to live comfortably. You wonder if you still believe that.

///

It’s Friday afternoon, and you’ve been blankly staring at your computer homescreen for the past ten minutes. In your defense, you have all your work done for the week and at least you have the courtesy to pretend like you’re doing something, unlike your coworkers. Coming from around the room are the sounds of purses zipping and shoes clacking. People form little groups, deciding on where to meet up later in the night or where to pick up a quick drink before going home. Not a single glance is thrown your way. Not that you really minded, as mentioned before it’s hard for you to function without a nap.

The clock hits 5 and everyone rushes out. In the short period that it takes you to gather your things, you suddenly become the only one left. Usually there’s a couple still working here and there, but it’s a Friday after all. Walking out of the building into the decently crowded street, your eyes are immediately drawn to the new pink and red decorations dotted around businesses advertising Valentine’s Day deals. You wince, knowing that it’s almost a week away and that yet again you’ll be spending it alone. For the rest of the walk to the station you keep your head down.

On the train home you gaze out the window, there’s too many people for you to feel comfortable shutting your eyes. Head resting on the glass, you can feel the vibrations wave through your skull.

Slotting the keys into the door, you breathe a sigh of relief. You’re home now, for around 48 hours you don’t have to do anything, nothing’s expected of you.

You shove the door close and lock it back up. To the right is a small wooden stand supposed to be for your shoes, but you don’t have many so you just toss your bag on top of it. Trudging through the small space to your bedroom, you don’t even bother to turn on the lights. Natural light is practically non-existent due to where the building is positioned, which makes it perfect for your little resting period.

Old tee shirt and sweatpants thrown on, water on the nightstand, and you are ready to rot in bed until you are hungry enough to get up.

You lay down in your designated spot and sink into the mattress. Wrapping yourself up in a blanket, you leave just enough space for your arms to move around and grab your phone. The brightness burns your eyes.

Now’s the time when you knock out dailies for the couple of games you play. They're mindless, just pressing the same buttons again and again. You had fun when you first downloaded them, but now you can't gather the motivation to continue the story. However there’s an exception; the one you save for last. As embarrassed as you are to admit it, it’s an otome game.

Love & Deepspace. You know they’re fake—just pixels with pretty faces and great voices exclusively made for you to throw money at—but the way your life is right now, that’s more than enough. It’s nice to feel like you have someone who cares enough about you to send you a text more than once a month, who’ll listen to your problems even if it’s just a programmed response to a vague prompt. You also enjoy looking up fanart, fanfiction, and other fanworks of your favorite boys. Unfortunately you don’t have the skills to contribute your own work to the fandom; you’re too awkward to even leave a comment most of the time, much less post your amateur scribbles and poorly written drabbles. But that’s fine, you’re content with just consuming.

You go to wish, having just enough saved up for a ten-pull. The bad part about loving more than one of the love interests is that you find yourself tempted to pull with almost each new limited release. Especially since a certain holiday is coming up. Stupidly, you’d gotten too excited about Caleb being added to the roster and all of your stock went to him. Saving your gems would certainly be a better idea, you hesitate at the banner preview. Luck is never on your side with these types of games, so it’d be infinitely smarter of you to save your pulls for something you may want later, letting you accumulate more and thus have a better chance of getting what you want…

But on the other hand it is a limited holiday set.

A sigh leaves your mouth, already disappointed in yourself for being weak willed and wasting your pulls. You lightly tap on the screen, and spam to skip the animation.

“Huh?” You gasp, hand rushing over your mouth in shock as the screen cuts to blue. In one ten pull you had gotten Xavier. Adrenaline cuts through you and you excitedly clap your hands, sitting up and dropping the phone.

Xavier was your first love, not the reason you downloaded the game, but he’s definitely the reason you stuck with it—Zayne and Rafayel don’t do it for you. Then later on Sylus and Caleb were added, who immediately piqued your interest. It hurts whenever you see a poll with Xavier coming in last. His character may be basic, but why fix what isn’t broken?

You upgrade his card as much as you can and equip the best protocores. You’ll check out the story later when you feel more like it. As a little ‘thank you for coming home’, you take a moment to mess around with him in the cafe.

Since you’ve gotten the game, you’ve kept him on the home screen. When the others came out you spent some time with them, but you’ve always gone back to Xavier. Tapping around and interacting with him helps you calm down. You like hearing his heartbeat, as it matches his soft, kinda drowsy demeanor. You’re alike in that way, always a little sleepy. Though it’s an endearing trait on him, you just think it makes you look lazy.

You set your phone on the nightstand, flip down and close your eyes, a little smile still on your face.

///

You’ve only slept for a few hours, but when you open your eyes again the world outside your window has gone dark. A controversial side-effect of winter. You’re quite fond of the early sunset, it makes you feel less guilty for sleeping so much. In your eyes, the day is meant for productivity, so when the night comes you’re allowed to rest all you want. Weekends and holidays are excluded from the rule of course.

Several minutes are spent staring up at the ceiling, deciding whether to rot some more or finally get up. Your stomach makes the decision for you.

Dark spots cloud your vision as you stand and you feel lightheaded. Apparently you got up too fast for your body’s liking. You take a moment to chase it away as you grab your phone, checking it even though you know there’s not going to be any notifications.

Glancing around the kitchen, you decide what to do for dinner. You know there’s nothing that nutritious around-it’s been a long while since the last trip to the grocery store-but you don’t feel hungry enough to go through the trouble of ordering out. Pack of ramen it is. You scroll through Youtube as the microwave buzzes pleasantly in the background, trying to find something to watch while you eat. It’s funny, you complain about eye strain from staring at your work computer all day only to come home and stare at a different screen all night. At least there are less spreadsheets on your phone.

In the end, the ramen doesn’t taste like anything and the video is nothing more than white noise and colors on a screen. That’s how life’s been going lately. It’s like your senses aren’t working properly, messing up the signals before they get to your brain. Everything’s either too loud or too quiet, too sharp or too dull, too bright or too dark. You try and think back to when you were last passionate about something, but nothing sticks out. Even your drive to study and get a good job was fueled more by fear than anything: the fear of being stuck in poverty, the fear of never leaving your small hometown. Yeah-life isn’t great, but it’s a lot better than what you could’ve been stuck with.

But now that you’ve made it out, that all-consuming fear having faded away, you don’t know what to do next.

You’re going off again. This is why so much time is spent mindlessly scrolling and consuming, because if you don’t your mind wanders in circles until you spiral. You get up and throw your ramen cup away. There has to be something around here to keep yourself busy with. Grabbing a small trash bag, you set your mind on a bit of cleaning up.

It doesn’t keep you occupied for long, though. Other than a few plastic bottles and wrappers your apartment’s fine as is. You suppose you don’t do enough to make a mess and warrant a deep cleaning in the first place. At least there’s less trash lying around. You sigh, tossing the garbage bag under the sink, motivation gone. Another annoying quirk of yours. You psych yourself up to do something, but five minutes later you lose interest. Back to the couch you go.

You stare back down at your phone screen as if it’ll tell you what to do. As you're zoning out, your eyes drift again to L&Ds. Now would be a good time to check out the event. When the home screen loads in you wince seeing the mixed matched outfit and accessories Sylus put on. You keep forgetting you let them pick their own outfits.

Wait-Sylus?

Your brow furrows as you check who you have selected to appear. You could have sworn it was just set on Xavier, as it always is. In the menu only Sylus is highlighted. Trying to tap on Xavier does nothing, but the other four work fine. You restart the app figuring it’s just a glitch, but he’s still stuck with the boring grey background no matter how hard or how many times you press. Must be a bug then. That’s fine, you can live with Sylus and Caleb for now.

The event premise is interesting, especially since for Valentine’s Day you expected something more sweet than spicy. You’re enjoying the short prologue until it’s time for you to pick who to interrogate. Once again the game won’t let you pick Xavier. You back out and check your memories. His event limited you pulled earlier is still there and nothing seems off at first, but when you click on the Date option nothing happens. Checking a few memories shows that the others work fine, the other characters that is. You can’t interact with any of Xavier’s.

“What the…” Now you’re a little frustrated. You turn to Google, but no search result matches whatever your issue is. The best guess is a major bug. You groan, looking up how and where to send a bug report. By the time you’re finished you feel dead tired again.

It hasn’t even been that long since you’ve woken up, but you’re more than ready to go back to sleep. Taking a few of the sleep meds you were prescribed should do the trick. Probably not the best idea, you lied a bit to get them. Instead of being honest and saying you slept too much, you switched the issue up and claimed you suffered from insomnia. That’s not entirely false, you do have problems actually falling asleep once you lie down, but that still doesn’t make it feel any better. The doctor having seen your heavy eye bags didn't question it and set you up with something decent for when your mind can’t seem to quiet down.

You manage to drag yourself to the bathroom to brush your teeth, making a point to avoid eye contact with the worn-out reflection in the cabinet mirror. Collapsing on the still messy bed, you stare up at the ceiling waiting for the pill to kick in, hoping that when you wake up tomorrow the game works again. You think about how sad it is that something so small as a fictional character could ruin your weekend; you think about how pathetic you must look to everyone else.

///

When you regain consciousness the air feels lighter-it’s daytime already. You first make out the tiny stream of light peeking out past the blackout curtains. Going by the amount you’d have to say it’s around noon. The second thing you make out is the other person in your bed. You freeze, eyes going wide and muscles tensing up. He’s stronger than you, if the lean arm laying across your waist is anything to go by. His breath tickles the back of your neck. It’s soft and rhythmic, he’s probably asleep. Why would someone break in for a sleepover?

You steel your nerves enough to risk turning your head. It’s incredibly relieving to see he’s wearing clothes. Stretching your neck a little further gives you a peak at his face, and you’re unable to stop a gasp from leaving your throat. He’s handsome, that’s for sure. Not someone you’d expect breaking and entering. A youthful face with soft, fair skin that goes well with his pale blond-almost sliver like hair.

You know him-you’re sure of it. Though you can’t remember where, the deja vu is too intense. Glancing down at his body, his outfit sticks out to you as well. It looks strange on him, though you can’t say why. It’s just a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. All in all, there’s an uncanny quality about this man. You’ve seen him before. It all seems so familiar; his face, his hair, his eyes-

You scream and jump back, falling off the bed in the process.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up and leaning over the bed to see you better. His voice, soft from the drowsiness of just waking up but concerned, forces your brain to connect the dots.

“…Xavier?” Your voice is shaky, sounding like you’re about to cry at any moment even though you’re just shocked.

“Yeah?” He rubs the sleep away from his eyes, gazing at you while you can do nothing but stare back.

Has your loneliness made you lose it? Are you hallucinating? Are you dreaming? But he looks so real in a way your mind wouldn’t be able to imagine by itself; same facial structure, the same light in his eyes, things about him that even dedicated cosplayers can’t pull off exactly like the game model.

“— are you alright?” Your attention is brought back to the situation once you feel his hand on your shoulder. While you were in shock he left the bed to crouch down next to you. You yelp, and he quickly moves his hand back. His touch felt real, but it can’t be.

“How… why?”

“Why what?” He tilts his head slightly. If you weren’t so freaked out you would’ve found that adorable.

“Why are you here?” You manage a full sentence, not caring that it comes off a little rude. The hunter thinks over your question for a moment, glancing around your bedroom. His eyes slightly widen, perhaps noticing that he’s in a completely different place from where he fell asleep.

“Where are we?” He looks more alert now, like he’s prepared for the wanderer that brought him here to pop out at any moment. The way he asks makes it apparent he assumes you were teleported too.

“W-we? You know who I am?”

“Of course, ___. Are you really feeling alright? Did you hit your head when you fell?” Xavier grows more concerned when he looks back at you, eyes softening and brows furrowing. Your terror and confusion must be clearly visible on your face. The way he said your name, it was like he knows you deeply, like this wasn’t the first time you came face to face. He takes a few crouched steps closer to you, but you push yourself back further, ending up flush against the wall. Hurt briefly shines in his eyes.

“I don’t sense any fluctuations… I’ll go check out the surrounding area. Wait here,” he states, standing and turning away from you towards your bedroom door. Particles of light flow around the hand at his side; you watch in wonder as the light takes shape into something tangible. The light fades once the blade is complete, breaking you out of your daze. Quickly jumping up, you run the short distance he made between the two of you, grabbing onto the back of his shirt.

“Wait, there’s no wanderer! This is my apartment, I live here!” You rush out, gesturing around the room. Xavier looks back at you, where your outstretched hand is gripping his shirt. You quickly pull back. He takes a moment to really look at his surroundings, taking in the details of your home. It makes you embarrassed, and a little ashamed of your small, gray, dusty space.

“But… this isn’t our building.” His puzzled gaze turns back to you, focusing on your face. You see him taking in the bags under your eyes, the faint acne, the imperfections that weren’t on the in-game avatar model. The gears turning in his head are practically visible, with stutters and groans as he tries to avoid the obvious conclusion. You freaking out when first seeing him, shocked when confirmed he knew who you were, being scared of him-

“That’s because we’re not neighbors! This isn’t Linkon and I’m not Her.”

[tobiasrieper]

SIGNALIS (2022) | rose-engine

[opossum-rights]

One of my favorite games ever

[opossum-rights]

Will you be updating ‘The Way Things Happen’ for a part 4? I love your writing!

Definitely! In the works now, just the start of it though. I’ve had my attention turned to a one shot I’m putting out this week. But after that I’ll be right back to it!

Thank you for enjoying my stuff! Makes me so happy to hear that!

[opossum-rights]

The Way Things Happen

After being caught in a villain attack, your life is intertwined with those of the aspiring heroes that saved you.

<<Prologue|Last Part|Next Part>>

Word Count, 3.2k

Weeks after the incident, you’re finally discharged. Though it’s not the joyous occasion you thought it’d be. It’s about the time that work studies should be ending and the students set to return to the dorms, but everyone thought it would be better if you were to spend a couple of days at home first.

Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you by throwing you right back into the swing of things. You would have preferred it.

You’d even rather have one of your teachers pick you up and drop you off, despite how embarrassing that would have been.

“I bet you’re excited to finally be out,” a cheerful nurse exclaims as she assists you into a wheelchair. She’s well-intentioned, but it’s hard to keep the grimace off your face. You shuffle a bit, a hand pats you on the shoulder. The nurse seems to assume your sour mood is just you having a hard time adjusting to the wheelchair. She’s partially right; the seat is stiff after spending weeks sitting in a padded bed, and your leg is acting up from the new position.

She helps you down to the receptionist desk, where your guardian is signing the last of the paperwork. They turn to you, seeing you for the first time since you left for the agency on the morning of the robbery. They keep an impassive expression, with only a hint of judgment in their eyes as they look over your admittedly disheveled appearance.

Geez, you think, it’s not my fault I was stuck in bed with a broken leg.

“Looks like we’re all good to go!” Your nurse hands them the duffle bag your belongings were stuffed into. She starts pushing you towards the door, waiting for them to point out which car is theirs. With a bit of a struggle she helps you get set up in the passenger seat, placing your wheelchair and your bag into the back.

The nurse comes by your door to say her goodbyes, that she enjoyed meeting you but hopes she won’t see you again too soon. It makes you smile. She gives you a hug and waves as you pull out of the parking lot.

The only sounds you hear are the car and the ones that pass it. You and your guardian were never close-not that you particularly wanted to be, but it’d be nice living in a not-so-hostile environment. What silence is left is tense and uncomfortable.

“You’re going back to school in two days.” They state; no room for negotiation even if you wanted to. You only give a hum in response.

After an hour of packed roads and darkening sky your apartment building comes into view. You brace yourself for them having to help you into your chair. You barely talk, much less touch. They pull into the designated spot, shutting the car off and rounding the side. It’s definitely more of an ordeal than it was leaving the hospital-less gentle hands and more harsh movements. When you’re in they take your bag and drop it on your lap. You wince, feeling the edges of a book poking your thigh.

Somehow, the halls of your building are more drab than that of the hospital. You're moved into the entrance of your unit, then left to your own devices as they busy themselves in their room. The apartment isn’t anything special-just enough room for the two of you.

It takes some work; you’re not used to navigating yourself using the wheelchair. You tap the wall a bit going into your room and almost fall as you stretch to shut the door, but you make it in one piece.

You’re pretty exhausted, having moved more today than you had in weeks. Only having the energy to take your meds and shuffle into your bed, you throw your bag in the corner, not even bothering to change.

//

It’s around noon when you wake up; you’ve been spoiled by the lack of daily obligations you had in the hospital. For a while, you just lay and stare at the ceiling. Even with the sunlight phasing through the curtains, the room is still cold. All of the decor and items strewn about that made the place feel lived in were moved to your dorm. All that’s left is empty shelves and things you grew out of. Another thing you miss about the dorm is the noise. You can always hear your classmates moving about-never loud enough to bother you, just to comfort you that there’s life around you.

“Time to get up,” you mumble, sore joints making you groan as you move about. You get changed, taking a moment to look at your cast and the names on it. You find yourself missing the boys, only being able to meet up with Todoroki and Midoriya once more before being discharged. You haven’t heard anything from Bakugou yet, though you’re not entirely sure how to feel about him.

It isn’t worth the time to unpack, you think, you’re leaving again tomorrow. A bit of time is spent scrolling social media before a low rumble comes from your stomach. Even though you’re out of the hospital, you’re not really looking forward to lunch/dinner. Your guardian’s taste is just as bland as the food was back there.

Some leftovers would do, you grab a container from the fridge and warm it up in the microwave without bothering to see what’s in it. A bottle of water sits beside you as you eat in the living room, staring disinterestedly at the tv.

“One of your teachers is driving you back tomorrow.” A voice breaks you out of the clouds. They stand in the entryway, just getting back for the day.

“Oh, you’re not?”

“I have to work. Already took a day off this week because of you.” You wince at their accusatory glare, bringing your gaze down to your feet. Their eyes follow, pausing when they see the signatures-probably shocked you know people who would do that. You can tell when they read Bakugou’s, a light scoff sounding out. You don’t dare let your chuckle out until they leave the room.

//

The day had been spent doing absolutely nothing. You don’t have the motivation to do anything, you assume thanks to your dull environment. As it stands, you’ve been on your bed staring at your laptop for hours, trying to start on an essay. Sighing, you finally shut it, putting it to the side as you lean against the headboard.

You wish you were already back at the dorms. You wouldn’t call any of your classmates friends, but everyone was still casual with each other. They’d talk to you, offer a seat next to them at meal times, and generally make your school experience all the more pleasant. Hell, even the hospital would be better than here. The nurses were sweet whenever they came to check on you and you even had some nice conversations with other patients.

In general, you just wish you were anywhere else. You wish you didn’t have to feel like an unwanted guest in your own home, especially now that you have a broken leg and are treated like even more of a burden.

Getting caught up in your head, you almost fall right out of bed when your cell rings.

It’s Bakugou.

“H-hello?” You stutter out while bringing the phone to your ear.

“Where the hell were you?” an aggressive tone comes through the other side.

“What?”

“Weren’t you let out yesterday?”

“Of the hospital? Yeah, but they wanted me to spend some time at home first. I’ll be back tomorrow.” You’re confused about why he cares so much, and also surprised he hadn’t deleted your number yet.

…

There’s a stretch of silence for a few moments, so you decide to just ask what you’re thinking.

“How did you know I got discharged yesterday?”

“Deku and Icy-hot were bitching about how they couldn’t visit you yesterday,” it doesn’t feel like he’s telling the entire truth, but you’re still giddy at hearing that the other two were disappointed about not being able to see you.

“So you overheard them talking about me and got… worried when I didn’t show up today?” You try to think of a good word; immediately you can tell it was the wrong one.

“Why would I be worried about you? We’re in different courses, how the hell would I even know if you were at school or not!” You’re wondering about that yourself, but you think it’s better if you just leave it.

“Well, tell them I’ll be back on campus tomorrow, but my first day back at class isn’t until the next day.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m sure they’ll be on you like mutts the second you get back anyway,” he states. It makes you smile a bit, you can tell he was wondering when you’d be back too.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you during lunch and stop by your table.” You say knowing that’ll get a reaction out of him.

“What? Like I’d want to hang around some extra like you,” he lets out a tsk.

“But didn’t you come visit me in the hospital?”

“Just to give that letter!”

You try to push down your laughter but can’t. It’s the first time in a long while you got to banter like this with someone.

“What are you laughing at?!” Little do you know, on the other side of the phone Bakugou’s cheeks started to heat up.

“Nothing, nothing! I’m just having fun talking to you.” There’s something about him. Even when he says harsh things you can tell he doesn’t always mean exactly that. It’s also just fun to egg him on.

“Having fun being a dumbass more like.” He mutters out, “I’m hanging up on you now.”

“Bye, Bakugou. See you at school!”

“No you won’t!” You hear a bang then the call cuts off.

What a guy. You can see why he’s such a hot topic around school.

//

The next morning, despite not having to leave until after noon, you get up extra early to get ready. You’ve found yourself putting extra thought into your appearance; knowing you were in the hospital for a while not able to take proper care of yourself has made you a little insecure. People at school were bound to notice you now that you’re wheelchair-bound.

You also need a little extra time to make it down to the parking garage, having to push yourself to the elevator.

The teacher who was sent to get you wasn’t there yet. You busy yourself on your phone.

Footsteps echo on the cement. A man steps around a car. Your eyes widen, he’s not one of your teachers. Bloodshot eyes copy yours. He glances around, probably expecting someone to have accompanied you down. He quickly schools his features.

“You’re the kid I’m supposed to grab? I’m Eraserhead.” He nods his head slightly in greeting. You lightly bow and introduce yourself. Still in his hero uniform; he probably just finished a class. The school day isn’t over yet-you really hope you didn't make him waste his prep time.

Here, he must see that you’re still not used to the wheelchair. He takes your bag and slings it over his shoulder, moving behind you to push you.

“Is this alright?”

“Y-yeah, this is fine. Thank you,” you rush out. It’s just as embarrassing as you imagined, even more so since they sent a pro hero when you were just expecting one of your business course teachers. Erasure helps you around to his car, smaller and more humble than you would expect from a pro hero. When you need assistance getting into the seat, he doesn’t make you feel like a burden. He’s gentle; studying your face for any sign of pain. He doesn’t rush you; letting you do as much as possible while acting as a support in case you need it.

In a way, he reminds you of your guardian-both not very expressive, both professional in going about their lives. But where they are cold under that solemn manner, he’s warm.

Must be part of being a hero, you think, caring about those more vulnerable than you, even if just in the little ways.

The drive back is spent staring out the window, quiet music being played on the radio. You assume he put it on for your sake, he definitely doesn’t seem the type to listen to girl groups.

“You can wait another day, if you want.”

“Huh? I’m sorry, what was that?” You backtrack thinking how rude that might have sounded.

“Your homeroom teacher is giving you the option to stay in tomorrow and attend classes starting the next day. Having just gotten out of the hospital, no one would blame you. You weren’t even supposed to be back on campus yet, but I was told your guardian insisted.”

“I think I’m fine,” you reassure. Sounds like they were eager to get you out of their hair.

“Speaking of which, thank you for taking the time to come and get me. I’m sorry if I took you away from work.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my prep hour anyway. Besides, I need some time away from those brats.” He stretches his neck and sighs.

“Oh, yeah? I guess the students in your class do seem pretty eccentric,” you chuckle out. Having to spend all day with Bakugou would wear on the nerves.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Still, I’d imagine the hero course draws in the interesting people. They’re a lively bunch compared to the business course, that’s for sure.” U.A.’s first and foremost a hero school, so every department has a different view of them. Jealousy and admiration from the general studies kids, a sense of comradery from support, and an analytical approach from business. They were definitely the stars of the show.

“That’s not always a good thing. Would’ve preferred it if some of them knew how to stay quiet.” The bags under his eyes stick out against his skin. You feel slightly sorry for him, but there’s an undertone to his words that expresses a sort of fondness. With all they’ve been through this year, it’s no wonder they’re such a close group.

Erasure parks the car in the staff parking lot, the first time you’ve seen it. You can confidently guess which of the other vehicles is Present Mic’s. He helps you back into your chair, not letting you carry your belongings when you offer.

The walk through campus to the dorms is pleasant; the sun warm on your skin. You take a moment to breathe in. It’s the first time you’ve really been outside in weeks. Even with U.A.’s towering buildings around you, you feel calm, happy to be back.

Your home for the next 2 and a half years comes into view, your class number in bold above the wide doors to differentiate it from dozens of identical buildings. The entrance is unlocked, and you’re pleased to see the common room no different. Various students’ things thrown about, not enough to be messy but enough to make the place feel lived in.

“Again, thank you so much.” You take the bag from Erasure, sitting it on your lap.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. If you do decide to take tomorrow off, be sure to contact your home-room teacher,” he says, scratching the backside of his neck. He starts to walk off, pausing at the door before looking over his shoulder.

“Also, if there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to ask.” You figure he’s talking about you maybe needing help getting caught up. If that’s the case, you’d probably just go to your own teachers. He seems genuine though, so you smile and nod as you say your goodbyes.

//

You feel much more at home in your dorm room. Plenty of decor around showing off your current interests, being able to freely express yourself. It’s not a room in someone else’s house that you live in, it’s your own space.

You make quick work of unpacking, rearranging everything to how it was before you left. As you do, the sound of your classmates getting back bleed through the walls. The unintelligible conversations and footsteps down the hall were something you found yourself really missing while you were away.

Feeling truly comfortable for the first time in weeks, the afternoon is spent lounging around. A couple of your classmates stop by to welcome you back, even bring you dinner thinking you probably wouldn’t want to make the trip yourself. A knock hits your door, and sitting at your desk, just tell the person to come in. It isn’t anyone who’s in your class.

“Todoroki? What are you doing here?” You ask with a confused smile, waving him in. The boy looks a little lost, but softens up when he gets a good look at you.

“I stopped by the faculty office and asked your teacher for any papers that you missed getting.” He holds a small stack out to you, a grimace makes its way onto your face. Only two days and still so much.

“Are you okay? Does your leg hurt?” He sets the papers down on your desk, looking you over in concern. You shake your head and gesture to the stack.

“No, no! It’s just a bit much.”

“Oh,” he loosens up a bit, “if you have trouble catching up I could help.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I assume most of this is course related. Unless… you’d be willing to figure out agency financing for me?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“I could try. There’s definitely people at my father’s agency I could ask.” Todoroki furrows his eyebrows, nodding his head as he thinks to himself. You let out a little laugh, assuring him that you were just joking.

“By the way, how’d you know I was back today? I’ve been told that I was early.”

“Bakugou mentioned it this morning after Midoriya was wondering about it.” You imagine it was more like him yelling at Midoriya to make him shut up about you, but you knew he would end up telling them anyway.

“Well you’ll be seeing me around more starting tomorrow.” Though you never really saw him in school before your injury, so you’re not sure how much more.

You make a bit more small talk-mostly about what he and the others have been up to, how the rest of their work study was. The boy’s not much of a conventionalist, so you do most of the talking, but he doesn’t seem to get bored. You do notice he’s making more of an effort to pipe in now that it’s just the two of you.

Soon enough the room is bathed in an orange glow from the sunset.

“Thanks for stopping by, it’s been really nice seeing you again!” He gives you a nod, a small smile on his face making yours heat up.

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed our time together.” You can see why some of the girls around school call him a prince. He leaves, gently closing the door behind him.

You take a look through the papers he dropped off, wincing at what you read. An essay, math, an essay about math-maybe you could’ve used his help after all.

Just to add, all relationships between reader and the teachers/pro heroes are completely platonic. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

[opossum-rights]

A Cursed Place

Cursed Spirit Gojo x Reader

You’ve always been deemed ‘weird’ by your peers. You’ve always seen things that aren’t there.

When you try to get away from it all you come face to face with something you never thought possible. The first one to seek him out in so long, he decides he doesn’t want to let you go.

<<Next Part>>

Word Count, 2.5k

Dozens of years ago, the building was used as a temporary shelter for civilians impacted by some sort of natural disaster, one of the worst in recent history. Its still halls and rotted walls were festering in negative energy from unpleasant memories.

Of course, you didn’t know that at the time. You didn’t know what things were drawn to that type of stale environment. You’d been using the place as a sort of safe haven. A place you could go to be totally alone. No one else in your town dared to trespass, the tragic history of the place gave rise to many rumors of ghosts or spirits. It was frightening the first time you stepped through the rusted doors, but with time you got used to it, having made the place your own.

You were forced there, that first day. By the time you learned to keep quiet about the world around you, the things others couldn’t seem to see, you were already ostracized by your peers.

Through the years you’ve tried repairing your reputation, but eventually something would happen: one of those things standing in the corner of your sight, or getting attached to those around you. It’d draw a reaction out of you despite your best efforts at keeping cool, convincing your classmates that there was something wrong with you.

Normally they’d stay clear of you, sure they’d sneak glances and let out a couple of chuckles behind your back, but there was never any violence directed your way. You guessed with exams coming up that they needed a stress ball.

Getting later in the year, the sun was making its way westward, dragging the light with it through it was only mid-afternoon. A couple of boys in disheveled uniforms were waiting near the gate. They were glancing at you, smirks on their faces, but being used to that type of reaction you thought nothing of it. Keeping your head down, you walked right past them.

The only warning was a single footstep. A hand harshly gripped the back of your uniform dress shirt, collar slightly choking you. You were pulled into their little semi-circle. The one who grabbed you then put his arm around your shoulders, it felt more threatening than friendly. One of them told you how this little game would work, you’d run, they’d chase after and try ‘tagging’ you. The look in their eyes told you that they would do more than simply tap you.

Not giving you much time to think, they shoved you away and started counting. You ran. A dozen yards away you could hear the dull sound of sneakers on pavement. You turn. They must be toying with you, you think, as there’s no way you could out run them for as long as you have been. They must like the sound of your panting, the frantic looking in your eyes as you glance over your shoulder to see them only feet away.

This proves to be a fatal mistake. You feel your foot connect with concrete and turn your head just in time to see that you tripped on a stair, letting you thrust your arms out to catch your fall. They slow to a walk behind you, laughing at your mishap. On shaking palms you try to push yourself up; a shoe connects with your back, doing the opposite.

They surround you,

Fucking Freak, A shoe is driven into your side, making you wheeze.

They break out in laughter as you use a hand to hold the spot you were kicked, wincing at the throbbing pain. They back up, giving you enough time to stand back up on unsteady legs. Again, you run. Again, they follow. You know you don’t have it in you to run all the way home, the pain in your side is already causing you to slow down.

On the right side of the road, you catch a minor gap in the trees. You know there’s a small path beyond, and past the overgrown grass there’s a building. You know that there’ll be a place to hide.

Quickly, you make a sharp turn. Sacrificing your speed to watch for sticks under foot and branches overhead. A structure comes into view. You believe it’s an old storage facility. It’s run down, doors rusting and a majority of the windows broken. Turning around the side, you find a window close enough to the ground that you can climb in. It aggravates your side, but you manage to hoist yourself through.

The inside isn’t much prettier. Dirt and grime cover the floors, broken pieces of furniture scattered here and there. There’s a shout coming from outside and you know you don’t have time to look around. Going through an empty doorway, you find a staircase. It’s rusted and broken in some places, but you can hear the doors being forced open, metal grinding against concrete.

You skip up, two stairs at a time. At the top, there are a series of doors. The sound of them yelling for you, more aggressive and less playful than back on the street, echoes throughout the building as you try to open and close a rotted door as quietly as you can.

There’s an old wooden cupboard, not in as bad condition as everything else you’ve seen, that you duck into. You fold your knees to your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The air is heavy; it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

On the ground floor, your pursuers spread out to look for you. You can hear only one set of footsteps make the stairs creak as they ascend. They still as he reaches the top, presumably picking a door to start with. He chooses the one right next to yours, the one that shares a wall with the cupboard you’re in.

You hold your breath.

There’s the sharp sound of the window breaking. There’s the piercing sound of the boy screaming.

The floor beneath you begins to shake, you curl up tighter into a ball. The others downstairs shout for each other, you think it’s an earthquake. Items and furniture rattle around and fall to the floor. The lights flicker on and off forcing you to tightly shut your eyes. You can hear the other windows on the top floor break and you cover your ears at the sound.

A minute passes and the shaking stops. You open your eyes and uncover your ears. You realize two things then; that the only lighting in the room comes from the window, and that there’s no sound in the building anymore.

Despite how frightened you are, you don’t leave the building until the sun has gone down. Only having a cell phone as a flashlight, you step over flung items and broken glass. The main doors are still open. Standing at the edge of the road, you take one look back down the path. You may have just been imagining it, but deep through the trees, you can see small lights blinking. Six of them, light blue.

The next day it’s almost as if nothing happened. The boys who gave you such a hard time yesterday didn’t even glance at you. No one ever tried getting physical with you again.

/

It’s a month later when you decide to go back.

You can’t stand the pity in the eyes of your parents, the disappointment when you come right home from school everyday by yourself. At dinner, your mind moves faster than your mouth. You’re going to be staying late at school tomorrow, to study with a couple of classmates. They’re ecstatic to hear about some friends in your life, or at the very least acquaintances. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

The next day, you take longer than usual to pack your things, trying to think of somewhere to hide for a couple of hours. You know your classmates disperse to the various parks and restaurants around town, so those aren’t an option. You rack your head for a place where you can be sure that no one who knows you would see you. Then It comes to you; the old storage facility.

Walking down the overgrown path, you start to feel nervous. You haven’t been back since that day; hadn’t even thought about the place. Now you think back to the strange events that took place. A part of you insists it was just a mix of an earthquake and panic attack, and you’re inclined to believe that explanation. What else could it have been?

Through the branches, you can make out the front of the building, doors gaping open just as you left them. It makes you pause. The sunlight almost drops off after the entryway, leaving the inside barely visible. If the sun isn’t invited inside, who’s to say you would be.

Shaking your head to get rid of those silly little thoughts, you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight. You reach the doorway, taking a moment to shine your light around. There’s broken glass and broken furniture thrown about, just as there had been a month ago.

There are footprints on the ground. You’re surprised, knowing that there has been harsh rain and wind, but the footprints made of dirt mere inches away from the door are perfectly clear. Thinking about it, that’s another oddity of the place. There doesn’t seem to be any weather damage; no mold growing along the floors and walls, no leaves or grass blown in despite the broken windows. The filth on the floor seems to have only been tracked from the feet of people and animals.

Cautiously you move from room to room, checking for signs that someone else may have been around. Once you make your rounds, your shoulders relax. Nothing looks like it’s been disturbed recently.

In one of the backrooms the floor is clean enough that you lay an old blanket over it to make a seat against the wall. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’ll do for now.

You bring out a folder from your backpack, opting to get started on some homework. Dumping out your container of multi-colored pens you decide to use the dark blue one, grabbing it and leaving the others scattered around you.

That’s how you spend the next half hour or so, marking here and there, trying to explain your reasoning, all the usual for language arts.

Soon enough you find yourself stuck on a point, pen cap between your teeth as you think. A soft howl rings out as a gust of wind blows through the window, carrying your paper across the room.

You hurriedly make to grab it, cringing at the thought of it dirty. Glancing across it, you find something has been added to your paper. Not dirt smeared on the back like you were worried about, but six light blue dots placed in the margin.

At first you think nothing of it. Though when you try to brush it away it only smears like pen ink. You slink back to your seat, taking a moment to look outside and admire the stillness of it all. Not a single leaf seems to be moving.

That’s something you like about this place; Always still, always quiet.

Looking back down you find that multiple spelling errors had been corrected with a light blue pen. You don’t remember doing this at all. In fact, you couldn’t have done this. Not only did the handwriting look completely different to your own, when you grabbed all your pens you found that the light blue was gone.

“What? Who’s here?” Looking back, it was a pretty stupid question-the paper was always in your sight if not in your hands, but you were genuinely baffled.

Another gust of wind came blowing through the window, taking the paper from your hands to the center of the room. A chill shivered down your spine. Taking a quick glance outside the window freaked you out all the more, as the trees outside indicated it wasn’t windy at all.

You crawl towards the paper, seeing it’s blank side up. With a slightly shaky hand you turn it over. Your breath gets caught in your throat. Written right after your own name in the corner is:

Satoru Gojo

“Satoru Gojo… is that who you are?” You ask in a hesitant whisper as you twist your head trying to catch a glimpse of him. Turning back to the paper, a small :) was drawn next to his name.

You yelp and drop the paper as if it burnt you. Backing up, you jump as your back hits the wall. It hits you that either you’re completely losing it or something supernatural is messing with you.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll leave!” In your panicked state, you can only assume that he’s some ghost that’s going to kill you now that you’ve figured it out. That’s what they do in the movies.

You hurriedly shove all of your things back into your backpack.

“AH-“ You scream as something brushes against your arm. You harshly flinch and look down to see the paper with something new scrawled on it.

You scared?

Is he mocking you? You’d hate to say he’s right, but your rushed breathing and hurried movements make it more than obvious. You almost fall multiple times as you grab your bag and race to the door. Twisting around a corner, you find something that stops you for a moment. The main doors are closed. You yank and pull on them but they won’t open.

Spinning around to look for another way out you see your paper on the wall of the hallway you just came from. Slowly, you inch closer and closer until you can read what was written on it.

Don’t forget this!

You take the paper off the wall, and as soon as your fingertips touch the edge, light spills out from behind you. The doors are open. Grasping the paper so hard it crumbles, you sprint outside and don’t stop until you’ve hit the main road.

Once you stop, it takes you a moment to catch your breath, legs already sore. You spare a glance back to the woods, but of course, nothing is there. Adrenaline wearing off, you make it back home and manage to put yourself together before your family can see you.

Later that night, you find you can’t sleep. Going over the events of the day again and again; paper in your hand all the while. You rely on it to convince yourself you’re not crazy, that something was there.

The next morning you figure you should reorganize your backpack, having left it a mess in your haste to leave the warehouse.

You can’t find your light blue pen anywhere.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had this sitting around since Halloween, and only recently came back to it. I’m sorry if the writing got a little wonky halfway through.

[opossum-rights]

The Way Things Happen

After being caught in a villain attack, your life is intertwined with those of the aspiring heroes that saved you.

<< Prologue - Next Part >>

Word Count, 3.5k

“How are we feeling? Your medication should’ve started kicking in by now,” says a nurse as she goes about conducting your checkup.

“I feel fine.” You give her the thumbs up, not really looking for any conversation. You appreciate how nice the nurses assigned to you are, but you think that’s partly because your parents haven’t visited other than to do paperwork, so they feel bad for you. They were always pretty distant, so you don’t mind them not showing up.

“Alright then, you know what button to press if you need anything.” She scribbles something down on her clipboard and leaves you be.

Back to staring at the ceiling again.

It was about a week after the incident and you were still in the hospital. You’re not sure what’s worse, the dull ache that washes over your body if you so much as squirm, or the boredom you’re faced with everyday. For a while, you were too out of it to realize how stuffy it was being stuck in a hospital bed, but after being taken off the stronger painkillers they had you on, you found yourself staring at the wall more often than not.

A classmate of yours brought your laptop, books, and some other things from your dorm to keep you entertained during your stay. They didn’t help much.

Looking at any type of artificial light for too long makes your head hurt, thanks to your concussion, and everytime you pick up a book you find your attention drifting before finishing the page.

You think it’s the lack of scenery and social interaction that’s making you go stir-crazy the most. Apart from that one classmate, you had no other visitors. The day after you got here a basket arrived from Best Jeanist’s agency, filled with treats and flowers and a card signed by your coworkers.

It makes you sad to think that by the time you’re discharged from the hospital, work studies will be over and it’s back to school. Though it’s nice to know that someone’s thinking of you.

There’s a knock at the door. You tell the person it’s okay to come in as you glance at the clock on the wall. It isn't the time they usually bring you dinner.

“Delivery!” A nurse enthusiastically calls out. You sit up, curious.

In her hands is another ‘get well’ basket, only instead of the sweets in the one you received from your colleagues, this one seems to have some over-the-counter medicine along with some other basic medical supplies, and what looks like a bag of takeout. Taking a closer look at the bag you realize it’s from a restaurant near the U.A. campus; a popular hang-out spot for students, especially after the move into the dorms.

“Who’s that from?” You ask, reaching out to grab it. The nurse shrugged.

“I’m not sure, it was dropped off at the front desk. Receptionist said it was a couple of U.A. boys. Maybe some classmates?”

You try to think of who it might be, but a single name can’t come to mind. You aren’t close with any of your classmates, even considering the one who grabbed your stuff only an acquaintance. Not that you particularly dislike any of them. It’s just that most have that ‘business student attending a prestigious school’ vibe.

“Well, whoever put this together definitely put some thought into it. Maybe they’ll come back.” The nurse sees your bewildered expression. She reminds you how much time there is until your next dosage of medication, then walks out and gently shuts the door behind her.

Despite how confused you are, the takeout has you feeling more upbeat than you’ve been in days. If you’re honest, any other non-hospital food would’ve brought out the same reaction.

You look inside the bag to see a little card on top of the containers. It’s plain white, ‘Get Well Soon’ printed on the front. In your hand, it’s a little warm from the food. On the other side of it is a brief handwritten note.

‘Hi there! I’m not sure if you remember, but we’re the ones who found you after the building collapsed. We’re relieved to hear that you’re doing okay! Always glad to help fellow U.A. student!’

Under the message are three signatures: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, and Todoroki Shouto. Going by handwriting, Midoriya was the one who wrote the message. You sort of remember them.

You smile to yourself as you place the card on the bedside table. No longer able to resist the smell, you dig into the takeout bag. What they got were safe choices, in other words kinda plain and not what you would’ve picked, but after days of hospital food, you’re about ready to cry from the flavor.

After you're finished, full and satisfied, you go to toss the bag away when you see a thin white sheet of paper. A receipt from the restaurant. Bakugou was apparently the one who bought it.

He must’ve ordered it from his phone, then gone to pick it up, going by a cell phone number listed. Would it be an invasion of privacy to call or text to thank him?

You decide to sit on it. Looking through the rest of the basket, you find over-the-counter pain relievers, an electric heating pad, some ointments, and some other minor things.

You’re flattered, to say the least.

This sways your decision to reach out, grabbing your phone and the receipt.

‘Hi, this is the student from the hospital. Thank you all so much for saving me and buying me stuff! Food was good.’

You’re not sure exactly what to type, so you decide on something short. Almost immediately after setting your phone in your lap, it pings to let you know you got a response.

‘You better be grateful.’

Huh, not what you were expecting.

‘I really am! The supplies are definitely going to make the next week I’m stuck here more bearable. Tell your friends I said thanks!’

‘Those two dumbasses aren’t my friends’

Ok, you’re getting a better idea of who this kid is. Now that you think about it, wasn’t he the one who had to be muzzled at the sports festival? You’re kinda surprised they let him into the hero course.

Not sure what to say to that, you set your phone down and go back to digging through the basket. All the while, a warm feeling in your chest.

…

It’s a couple of days later, and you’re still holding onto the feeling that popped up knowing those boys thought of you. Truthfully you expect nothing else. What they’ve done for you is more than enough. So it’s definitely a surprise when a nurse slides into your room saying that you have a visitor; a U.A. boy named Midoriya.

You tell her to send him in. Quickly, after she leaves the room, you sit up and brush your hair down. It’s the first time you’ve seen anyone but a nurse in a week, and you’ll admit you haven’t been putting as much thought into your appearance since you got here.

“Um, hello. Is this the right room?” The green-haired boy, who you now know is Midoriya Izuku, nervously steps into the room.

“Y-yeah, it is.” You mentally groan at your awkward response, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It’s great to properly meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he says with a genuine smile on his face. He holds up another takeout bag in his hand.

“Kacchan, er-Bakugou said you liked the food he picked up last time, so I grabbed you some more.”

“You really didn’t have to, but thank you so much!” You properly introduce yourself, returning his enthusiasm, and gesture to a seat on the side of your bed.

“Since you’re here, let me pay you back at least.” You reach over the other side of your bed to grab your backpack on the floor.

“No, no you really don’t have to!” He shoots his hands up and rapidly shakes his head.

“If you’re sure…” you trail off. You sit back up quicker than you should’ve and feel a slight pain in your ribs. It must show on your face because Midoriya leans closer and looks you over.

“All you alright? Should I call a nurse?” You hurriedly tell him no, that you just moved too fast.

“Still not used to being so fragile,” you painfully chuckle and wave a hand at your leg.

He focuses on your leg, brows furrowing and seeming to be lost in thought. You feel your cheeks warm at the attention, and you ask the first thing that pops into your head to distract him.

“Do you wanna sign it?”

“Huh?” He turns to you with wide eyes.

“Well, you did save me after all. It’d be kinda cool having the autograph of a future pro hero. You can consider me one of your first fans.” Saying this makes him light up.

You grab a marker from your bedside table left by one of the nurses and hand it to him. He stutters out a ‘thank you’ and signs his hero name in neat characters in the space just over your knee.

“Deku, huh? I’ll be sure to remember it.”

After that conversation comes more easily. Both you and him seem more easygoing than when he first arrived. You chat about school, your respective courses, who you’re working under, and even more. Soon a nurse sticks her head in to announce that visiting hours are ending soon.

“Again, thank you for stopping by. Talking with you has been the most fun I’ve had in a while.” Your gratitude makes him blush as he bashfully scratches the back of his neck.

“Really, it’s no trouble at all. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since the incident. You seemed pretty frightened, so I wanted to check up on you.” Now it’s your turn for your face to warm up. You smile at each other.

“Would you mind if I came to visit you again?” He asks as he stands from his seat.

“Of course not, just no more buying me anything. Here,” you grab a napkin from the takeout bag, still sitting unopened, and scribble down your number. He takes it with a smile, and then soon enough he’s out the door.

Deku; you know for a fact that in ten years you’ll be hearing his name in the news all the time.

…

The next day rolls around and you’re in a way better mood than previously. Midoriya had texted wondering how you were, and you even made plans for him to visit later in the week. The uptick in your mood must’ve been obvious, as even the nurses were commenting on it. They were happy to see you so happy.

After your recent checkup, the doctor said that your concussion was healing nicely enough for you to watch some TV, but to turn it off the second your head starts to ache.

That’s where you are right now, getting caught up on the dramas you missed. In fact, you’re so into it that you don’t notice the loud footsteps stomping down the hallway.

You’re leaning in, anticipating the moment the lead confesses her love when your door blows open like an explosion took place in the hallway.

You jump away, watching as a spiky-haired blond boy walks in without saying anything. Again, in a U.A. uniform. It doesn’t take much thinking for you to piece together that this is Bakugou Katsuki.

“What?” He spits out when he sees you staring.

“Uh, what do you mean ‘what’? This is my room,” you point from yourself to the door. He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“I know that, dumbass. I’m here to give you this.” He stomps up and thrusts a piece of paper at you.

You cautiously glance at him as you take it. You continue to look at him with it in your hand.

“Read it,” he grunts out, moving to the chair next to your bed.

You shrug at him then look at it. It’s a letter from Principal Nezu confirming that due to being injured from no fault of your own, you won’t need to make up for your missed time on your work study nor will you have any extra assignments. There’s even a note at the bottom from Best Jeanist, saying that what happened was tragic and that you’re welcome back to his agency the next time work studies roll around.

You’re touched, and it must show on your face as you hear a scoff from the boy next to you. You’ll be honest, you forgot he was there. Something else you forget was the harsh movements you made when he barged in. A dull pain sets in your leg, and you squirm around to try and get more comfortable.

“What happened?” He’s quieter now, though his words still have a bite to them.

“I just moved too harshly. I’m fine,” you say, and he gives a huff. Things taper off after that. You’re not exactly sure why he stayed past giving you the note.

“Thank you for the other day. You were one of the heroes that saved me from the rubble, right?”

“Damn right, I blew it away. Neither of the other two did jack,” he smirks, pride in his voice.

“Yeah? Well, thanks for the food too. I really like that place.”

“Hospital food tastes like shit. It’ll probably make ya even worse,” he looks away when he replies.

He takes a glance at your cast, more specifically the name on it.

“Deku…” He looks pissed off.

“You want to sign it too? You’re also one of my heroes,” you say as you grab the marker and hold it out to him.

Bakugou looks startled by your offer, but only for a moment. He roughly grabs that tool from you and gets to work. He signs his hero name in big, scratchy characters right above Midoriya’s. With an upward twitch of his lips, he caps the marker and throws it back onto the table.

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite…” You’re not sure if you were just pranked. Seeing the disbelief on your face as you look back at him, he scowls.

“Better remember it,” he’s serious. Not wanting to piss him off even more, you move on to flattery.

“Don’t think I could. Look forward to seeing it up on the charts!” This pleases him, you think. You’re sincere when you say it.

You make small talk for the rest of his time there. It’s mostly you egging him on. You talked about class, how he’s at the top of his both in academics and strength (you have no way of knowing if that’s true), and how he interned under Best Jeanist earlier in the year, that’s why he was the one to get the note.

Eventually, a text pops up on his phone and he glances at it, scowling once he sees who it is.

“Damn hag,” he mutters as he slings his bag over his shoulder and stands.

“Don’t die,” he’s blunt as he turns back at you in the doorway.

“Not planning on it,” you reply, giving him a little wave. He stomps back out the door, slamming it shut of course. It sounds like he pauses outside, then you can hear his footsteps move down the hall back to the elevators.

He sure has a strong presence, and you know how far that’ll take him in this industry.

…

Suddenly it’s a few days later, the day you planned for Midoriya to visit. You were excited, and a bit jumpy. Even with a preset time you found yourself hopping up everytime the door opened, only to be disappointed once it’s just a nurse.

You found yourself wanting to impress him, or at least not look like you’ve been stuck in the hospital for weeks. A nurse assisted you in taking a bath, and you put on a sweater over the top of your hospital gown. You’re afraid there’s no hiding how dead your skin looks with the lack of direct sunlight.

The time ticks on. You set your eyes to the clock set high in the corner of the room and watch as the hour and minute hands place themselves where they need to be, then past.

At first you can excuse it, his train probably got delayed or there was an emergency. You really didn’t want to blame him for it. He was a hero in training, after all, he probably didn’t have time to spend with a kid in the hospital.

There’s a lock at the door. You twist around, hope being brought back.

“Come in!” You try to play it cool and keep the excitement out of your voice.

There’s a pause on the other side. The door slowly opens to show not who you were expecting. It’s a boy with two-toned hair, and two different colored eyes. This is Todoroki Shouto if you remember correctly.

“Midoriya’s in the bathroom,” he stated as he stood in the doorway. You light up and smile at him, overjoyed to hear that he hasn’t ditched you.

“Thanks for letting me know. You can sit down, if you want,” you wave a hand to the chair at your bedside.

He nods, then moves to sit. As he does, he seems to realize something and briefly introduces himself. You do the same.

You had your fair share of awkward moments when Midoriya and Bakugou first came to visit, but they both did their part in providing small talk. This boy, on the other hand, is content with being quiet. You’re more intimidated by him than you were with Bakugou.

As you try and think of something to say, you hear a murmur.

“That’s what he picked?” You glance over to see he’s staring at your leg, where his teammates have written their hero names.

“Yeah, Bakugou’s sure is… something. It does fit him, though.” He agrees with that, not saying anything else. You decide to hurry things along and grab your trusty marker, pointing it at him between your fingers. He looks at you blankly.

“Go on, the other two did. You were also there to help me. Thank you for that, by the way,” you give him a smile as you shake your hand lightly.

“I’m a hero, it’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.” He takes the marker anyway. Under your knee, he writes his name in small, neat characters. When he’s finished he caps the pen and sets it back on the table.

“Shouto? Staying true to yourself, nice.” He gives you a barely there smile, and is about to say something when the door rushes open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Todoroki wanted to come with when I said I was visiting,” Midoriya slightly bows as he apologizes.

“It’s fine. I have nothing else to do other than wait.” You wave him off.

Looking around, you realize the only place to sit in the room is being taken up by Todoroki. You could call a nurse, but you’d feel bad making them leave their station just for a chair. Moving your good leg more towards you, you pat at the empty space. He looks unsure of it, but you pat it harder to get the point across that it’s fine. Hesitatingly he sits on the edge of the bed, being very conscious of your cast.

You all get to talking a bit more, mostly you and Midoriya, but sometimes Todoroki’s dragged in by one of you, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

…

As they’re getting ready to leave you call out to them.

“I know I probably said it a thousand times, but really thank you guys. If it wasn’t for you I’d be in even worse shape, or maybe dead,” you blink away tears in your eyes as you tell them. They both freeze at your expression.

Todoroki doesn’t seem like he knows what to do, but Midoriya gently places a hand on your shoulder. You place a hand over his.

“You guys are already amazing heroes.” They both are happy to hear that.

“Thank you, that means a lot to hear,” Midoriya sounds genuine, the light in his eyes warms your chest.

“So, see you later?” You let go of his hand, and he backs up to where Todoroki is by the door.

“Of course, I’ll text you when I have a free day.”

“Is it alright if I visit again?” The quiet boy speaks up. You’re surprised, but glad he seemed to have a nice time.

“Definitely, you guys are the only people I see outside of the nurses. It keeps me from going crazy.” They have a strange look flash across their faces, but quickly go back to normal and make to leave when a nurse walks in with some of your medication.

You don’t know if you can consider them friends yet, but you have a feeling these boys will stick around.

[opossum-rights]

The Way Things Happen

After being caught in a villain attack, your life is intertwined with those of the aspiring heroes that saved you.

<< Next Part >>

Prologue: Word Count, 2k

You’d never thought it would happen to you.

That’s what they all say, isn’t it? Every evening the news broadcasts the latest villain attacks, and seeing the number of injured you can’t help but imagine what if you were involved in a situation like that. It’s only ever a brief hypothetical; being in your home makes the idea of danger seem so far away. There were times you felt scared by an attack, USJ and Hosu the most, but being a student in the business course neither really left much of an impact on you past moving into the dorms.

To put it simply, you’ve been lucky. With all the chaos in the city as of late, you nor your loved ones have ever been in so much as a minor accident.

You didn’t think you’d be the first.

…

“Good job today, kid,” says one of your supervisors. You jokingly huff at the nickname. You were the only business student able to land a work study position, so you were the youngest in the office by a sizable gap.

“Thank you, miss,” you reply, bowing your head as you pack your things.

“Need a ride?” She lives in an apartment building near yours, so there have been many times where she’s either picked you up or dropped you off. Everytime you say she doesn’t have to, but she insists. Her own kids have gotten to the age where they don’t need her to drive them around anymore and she misses the feeling. A sweet woman she is, looking out for you inside the office and out.

“Not this time, I have a couple errands to run.” You shrug on your coat, grab your scarf, and thank her for the offer.

“Alright then, just be careful. It’s late.” You assure her that you’ll be fine as you place your gloves on and walk out the main doors. She’s right, it’s already dark out.

It’s winter, the streets dotted with the occasional office worker just finished with overtime, yourself included. It’s the time when U.A. sends their students off to gain experience working in their field under the pros. You had gotten lucky, managing to land a spot with Best Jeanist’s PR team. You smile into the knitted scarf wrapped around your neck, still giddy at getting to work in the same building as the now 3rd ranked pro hero in the country. It isn’t everyday you see him, much less interact with him, but you know you made the right choice when he was there to personally welcome you and give you a tour of the main floor you’d be working on.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as the steam from your exhale fades into the air. You speed up to a light jog when your shop of choice comes into view. Stepping into the department store, you take a moment to soak in the heating as the doors close behind you. A small jingle plays signaling a customer, and a worker greets you. You politely smile back.

The harsh artificial lighting makes your eyes squint. Bringing a hand up to rub them, you’re suddenly thrown off balance, almost falling over but able to regain your footing.

“Don’t stand in the middle of the doors, dumbass.” You look up to see a man in a dark hoodie walk, more like stomp, in front of you. You stutter out an apology, but he only grunts in reply, turning away from you and moving behind a shelf. There was something about him that made you nervous. He looked almost scared, or erratic. You shake off the bad feeling in your stomach.

You try not to let your encounter sour your mood and make your way to the stationary aisle. The other workers at the agency sometimes poke fun at you for your taste in stationery, but you say that if every pen works the same you might as well pick one that’s nice to look at. You stand by this sentiment even if you can feel your wallet get a little tighter with each pack of star-shaped highlighters.

You spend your time browsing the selection, taking notes of any brands showcasing deals or collabs. No matter how unnecessary it is, you’ll buy it if it’s cute enough. A ceramic container catches your eye, pastel and polka dotted it would be perfect as a pencil holder. You take it in a gloved hand.

The aisle you’re in is on the other side of the store from the checkout area, which is why you weren’t able to hear what was happening. Where you can’t see, the man in the dark hoodie quietly threatens a cashier, telling her he’ll hurt her if she doesn’t give him all the money in the registers. She tries to stay calm, and buys time while she presses the panic button, alerting nearby heroes that there’s a situation. He gets angry, pulling out a knife and thrusting it out. That’s when you become aware that something’s very wrong.

A high-pitched shriek sounds out from a worker; a harsh wince causes you to drop the container. It breaks into small chunks as it hits the ground. You curse under your breath as you instinctively bend to clean it up.

“Shut up!” A man roars. The same man that you ran into when you first arrived, you recognize his voice. He sounds furious. You freeze, letting the piece of ceramic you had between your fingers fall to the floor.

“Please, sir-“ Another worker tries to calm him down. You can hear other customers in the store rush for the exit. You can’t bring yourself to do the same.

“Nobody moves!” You assume he has some kind of weapon, most of the footsteps stop and some people let out gasps. You can hear a kid muffle her cries from an aisle over. The beat of your heart sounds in your ears, and you can’t make your legs move. Still crouched to the floor, you focus your eyes on your shaking hands.

Someone yells out, causing you to realize it’s not only your hands shaking. You’d assume it was an earthquake if it wasn’t for the cracks splitting the floors and moving up the walls. It’s his quirk, someone must have done something to set him off.

This breaks you out of your trance. You stand up, one hand grasping a shelf as you struggle to keep your balance. It only gets worse. Items are thrown to the floor and displays are knocked over as people scramble for safety.

You try the same, making your way to the nearest exit sign. The man knocks it up another notch, making it hard to stand at all. You reach out to catch yourself on the wall, but it isn’t enough.

You fall onto your back, hitting your head on the ground hard enough to stun you for a moment. You grunt in pain, waiting for the ringing to fade back into clattering metal and screaming. Lifting yourself into a sitting position, you only see a glimpse of the shelf to your side as it falls right onto your left leg.

Your mouth opens to let out an agonized scream, but you can’t force out any audible noise. It’s broken; your nerves feel like they’ve been lit on fire. The pain makes you dizzy, forcing you to lie down. Trying to move it would be pointless, only causing more harm. There’s no way you’re going to be able to push such a dense metal object. You feel disconnected from it all.

Head spinning, you try to think back to your first aid classes. All U.A. students were required to take them, no matter the course. It doesn’t even occur to you that everything taught is virtually useless if you’re the severely injured one. You’re not a hero, you’re just a regular person. This shouldn’t be happening to you.

The shock of what’s going on makes you feel sick, dizzy, nauseous. The pain in your leg is so sharp that it dulls all your other senses. You’re in shock, and can only lay there helplessly as the cracks in the walls grow bigger and move up to the ceiling. You can’t even process the building growing darker as lights crash onto the floor, as do pieces of the ceiling. One must’ve fallen on the same shelf on top of you, as the pain reignited something fierce.

Your vision fades in and out while you try to gasp for breath. The sound of the building rumbling turns so severe that you know it’s about to collapse, and you pray that you pass out before it does. An explosion rings out, and you go limp.

You’d never thought it would happen to you.

…

It’s only light that you see, vague shadows moving in and out of your vision. You can’t hear, can’t feel, can’t move. There’s someone above you, that much you can make out. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and slowly your hearing comes back. You’re only able to make out vague sounds, not the specifics of what they are. He’s yelling at something, not helping your head pain in the slightest. All of a sudden there’s another figure making its way into your vision. They’re yelling at each other, at least the first one is.

Gazing up at them you try to focus your vision. It doesn’t help much. You can make out that the first boy is wearing oddly shaped accessories on his lower arms and that the other has white and red hair. In the back of your head, something tells you that this isn’t the first time you’ve seen them, but you’re still too out of it to remember from where.

You can slightly feel someone grab one of your wrists. You glance over to see a head of green. The boy sees you’re looking at him and turns to the others to tell them something. They all turn to you. The loud one shouts over his shoulder, gesturing to you.

It starts to get overwhelming when more people arrive and start moving you around. You whimper, using your hand to grab the green-haired boy’s. He stills for a moment. Gently, he takes your hand between both of his, stroking the back of it. His lips are moving, but you can’t tell what he’s saying.

You’re being lifted up. It frightens you and you try to move but can’t. The boy must see how scared you are. He holds onto you as he stands to follow. He stays with you as they place you into a bright, loud, vehicle. The harsh attack on your senses causes you to fade in and out. You don’t know it, but he doesn’t let go until your eyes close and don’t reopen.

…

The evening news tells the story of a robbery gone wrong. None dead, but several injured. Though most had managed to escape the building before it collapsed. The perpetrator was captured by none other than the current number one hero Endeavor, off hours but just happened to be nearby with the U.A. students he’s mentoring. You almost got to meet him, shame you were in shock and being rushed to the hospital.

You had the most severe injuries, fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you see it. A couple of broken bones in your left leg and foot, a pretty bad concussion, and a fractured rib or two. You needed some surgeries, a couple weeks stuck in the hospital, and even longer stuck in a cast.

Once you came to and lightened up on the painkillers enough to think, you figured out where you knew the boys who saved you from. You saw them all do well at the sports festival and put on a performance with their class in the culture festival. The three first-year hero students with the most potential for the top, they say.

You should thank them sometime.

[opossum-rights]

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, been kinda in a funk. Any new people don’t be scared off, I promise my next post isn’t going to be in another 9 months.

[opossum-rights]

Hypnotic

Asmo x Gnreader

2.4K words

Cw: unhealthy relationships, un-consensual kissing, yandere? Idk he’s a bit of a creep, a lot of alcohol, Ooc Asmo

You don’t remember making it back to your room last night. You don’t remember taking off your clothes, hoping that the feeling of raw, sticky skin melting onto you would be shed as well. You don’t remember flinging the window open, hoping that fresh air would be forced through your airway to replace the stale smell of bodies packed into a room much too small.

Sounds like a fire hazard, though you suppose you’d be the only one who’d have to worry about something like that.

You don’t remember much from last night. Only feeling cramped, trapped, bored, scared, then eventually a bit of nothing once the alcohol kicked in.

Your blurry recollection doesn’t bother you when faced with your current state. Face and lips dry, the inside of your mouth stuck together, throat and nasal swollen; you must look like utter hell. You think back on it and chuckle, you must look worse than hell right now. The hell you’ve seen is pristine and vibrant. He doesn’t let lack of sleep place bags under his eyes, doesn’t let exhaustion dry out his skin.

And going by the continuous beating on your door, he couldn’t care less about anything you may be feeling. You wince, hand moving to your skull where you can feel the vibrations from the knocking echo around.

You want to ignore him, to not give him another reason to sit you down to rant about something you don’t care about while slathering your skin in creams with ingredients you don’t trust. He seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to you. He always seeks you out when you feel your lowest.

You would ignore him, but the door doesn’t have a lock on it and he never seems to be able to take a hint. The hard floor below offers no padding for your wobbling legs.

Steadying yourself and finally opening your eyes all the way, you find that you're in nothing but your underwear. You can’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed; you’ve played dress up enough times for him to already know what your body looks like.

The ache in your head isn’t going away, and you can’t bring forth the effort to mask your irritation as you fling open the door. Asmo stands in the hall with one hand raised in a fist and the other holding his phone. Who knows how long he would’ve stood there browsing devilgram waiting for you; maybe you should’ve just stuffed your ears and let him.

He takes in your appearance with a grimace, not even reacting to your lack of clothes. Of course, he doesn’t look anything other than perfect. Makeup done, hair set, and designer clothes at the ready. It’s 9 in the morning.

“Looks like I have my work cut out for me today! Don’t you know that sleeping like this isn’t good for you?” He beams as he slips his phone into his back pocket with one hand and leads you back into your room with the other.

He may try and sound concerned, but you know he’s ecstatic. It makes him feel good about himself-to take you when you look like a walking trash can, empty you out, scrub away the stains, and polish you till you shine. It doesn’t change the fact that your purpose is to hold onto other people's discarded waste.

He pushes you down onto the vanity stool; what you see in the mirror makes you want to cry.

It makes you want to wrap your hands around his thin neck and squeeze.

•••

It’s getting colder. You think that must mean fall is coming-or whatever word they use in place of the season here. It’s not like you would be able to tell anyway. Apparently, there are barely any differences to the months, so it may even be winter.

Other than that, it’s exactly like every other weekend night. You and Asmo walk through the streets to a friend of a friend’s place, him looking even better compared to you. He has on some brand-name jacket and a scarf he got at a modeling session, but you just have a hoodie over too small clothes. It was a fight to let you leave in even that.

You arrive and immediately some girl-you assume the hostess-runs up and exchanges those little cheek kiss greetings with him, saying how good it is to see him and how his makeup is to die over. The attention makes him bloom.

He gestures to you and mentions that they’re some human brands that he’s been obsessed with lately. She turns to you and in an attempt to please, wraps you up in a hug that’s a little too over-eager for an introduction. She smells like alcohol, and you can already tell how the rest of the night is going to go.

They go on chatting about some mutual friend, both praising and dragging on the demon. You immediately leave to find the bar. Walking through the crowd, you will yourself not to puke at all the different smells and sounds and touches coming from every side of you.

You make it and grab a bottle of something you can’t read. Taking a swig of it, your face twists at the taste, but it’s already making its way through your veins.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that straight up.

Feeling a little more resigned to your situation, you decide to walk around the flat. The decor is nothing like you’ve seen before-in your world at least, you’ve seen the exact same set up at every other party you’ve been to.

You’re back at the entrance, but Asmo’s nowhere to be seen and the bottle in your hand is almost empty.

•••

You’re sitting outside some door in an almost empty room. The demons around you can smell your human, they have no intention of speaking to you. Your eyesight is fuzzy, and your mind is soft.

You’ve admittedly had more to drink than usual, deciding that you don’t need to keep your guard up anymore. It’s not like being human made you any more tempting to mess with-in fact it’s done quite the opposite.

Maybe it isn’t so bad after all, being dragged around to all these new disgusting places with these new disgusting people. You get the opportunity to get drunk for free, and once you make it back home, you’ll have a new appreciation for your small but comfortable lifestyle.

For now, you can tolerate being Asmo’s little toy poodle. That really gets a laugh out of you. Imagining being the diseased chihuahua that he carries in his hot pink purse. Sure, you may have rabies and look like you’ve been dead for five years but look at your bedazzled collar with your name on it.

You find it so funny that you need to tell Asmo about it. Getting to your feet takes some effort, stumbling every .5 seconds, but eventually you manage.

It’s easy to find him. In the middle of the most crowded room because no one can resist the need to be near him. He is a celebrity after all.

Your world is so fuzzy that you don’t notice the looks people give you as you push through them, you don’t even think about how they must hate you now. So much is in your system that you don’t even hate yourself right now.

He’s laughing at something someone said, or to be more precise, he’s laughing at someone. You laugh a little too. You grab onto his shoulder, and he turns around. He has his signature smile but you see the surprise in his eyes.

Surprised at your state? You must look manic.

Surprised at the scent of booze wafting off you? You did have much more than you should have.

Surprised that you're even still here? You’re surprised you haven’t been eaten yet too.

“Hey, did you know I’m like your dog? Back in the human world we have this like trope-“

“Dear, are you feeling okay? You don’t look too good,” he says with this mocking baby voice. You must be too out of it to be making any sense right now.

Someone tries to get his attention by stepping in front of you, but they don’t deserve it. They didn’t spend hours naked in front of a mirror to please him. You shove them back with a little more force than you meant to give.

“I was in the other room, like by the kitchen, when I thought that-“

“Did I mention how much I love your look?” Someone else swoops in from the side. You didn’t notice it before but sometime after your arrival he shed his outerwear. You must admit, he looks nice.

You start to get irritated. Why was everyone interrupting you? Did they not think you worthy to talk to their idol? You know that’s not true, because you’ve spent the better part of the day being molded and poked and prodded by him to walk by his side.

“Did I mention how much I hate you?” Yeah, that’ll get his attention. Everyone else is showering him with their love so the thing to do to stand out is the opposite. It must’ve come out louder than you meant it to, as he whips around to face you and the nearby chatter dies down. You have to work on maintaining better self-control.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” You don’t mean to continue, but the words are tumbling out. Your mouth is faster than your brain-or maybe they’re on the same page and you did mean to follow up.

“All you do is drag me around as your little dolly or dead dog or whatever,” You manage to slur out.

He’s in shock. It’s kinda funny to see him like this, so you continue. You go on about how much you hate his makeup, his clothes, his hair. You would go deeper, but as far as you’re concerned there’s nothing else to him.

You manage to slip out your last words to him before someone grabs the back of your sweatshirt and drags you back. Someone else throws their drink on you. You’re laughing at how gross you feel right now, your eyes on him the whole time, but he just stares back.

•••

The cold is a bit of a shock to your system as you walk in the direction you think you came from. The drink thrown upon you earlier was soaking into your hoodie. The smell was making you sick, so you took it off and left it by a tree. Asmo will see it once he leaves and grab it for you.

It’s difficult to walk straight. Thankfully, there’s no one outside to see how bad you look right now. You may look bad, but you feel amazing. What was it Asmo said about your feelings affecting your appearance? That was why he was always chipper, positive even when the situation didn’t call for it.

You think you need to get new friends; there’s a bit too much Asmo in your life.

•••

Shockingly you make it back to the HOL in one piece. You didn’t even run into Lucifer waiting to chastise you about breaking curfew.

Today was a really good day.

Your shirt sticks to your body with sweat, alcohol, and maybe some other things, so you just leave it on and take your pants off. Climbing into bed with the door wide open, you decided to just leave it. Getting under the covers sounded so much easier.

•••

You wake up earlier than expected, or at least you think you did. You don’t know where your phone is to check the time but there isn’t much moonlight coming through the window.

You wonder what woke you, but then you see him sitting at your table. He has your sweatshirt in front of him, and his eyes on you.

‘How nice,’ you think, not yet sober enough to realize what’s wrong. ‘I knew he was going to grab it.’ You smile at him. He doesn’t smile back.

He stands up, dragging his manicured nails on the table as he steps closer to you. You're already half asleep when he gets to your bedside.

He stares down at you, pretty orange eyes illuminated. That’s one thing you wish humans had, pretty glowing eyes.

A hand sits on your shoulder, like it’s attempting to keep you down but you aren’t trying to get back up.

“You hate me,” Asmo says. There’s no emotion to his voice; he isn’t hurt or angry, just stating a fact. That’s when it comes back to you. The alcohol, the people, the words-you feel bile rise to your throat.

“Wait, I’m so sorry!” You try to sit up but he forces you to stay down.

“No you’re not.” He grabs your cheek with his free hand, nails digging into the skin. You can feel the indent on your tongue.

“You’re just my little doll. I love you, but you hate me. That isn’t fair,” There’s a slight whine in his voice now. He forces your head to face him.

You’re about to scream when he forces his lips on yours. He shoves his tongue into your mouth. It’s gross. You taste what he had to drink, the mint he had to get rid of the after taste. You blink and tears spill over, getting on his face as well because that’s how close he is to you.

All this time his eyes have been open. They keep you from struggling.

After what felt like an hour, he removes his mouth from yours. He doesn’t move back, though. Still close enough to where all you can see is his eyes.

“You’re my little doll. I love you, and you love me too,” he whispers out. Your head feels fuzzy, you feel confused.

You’re crying, you don’t like what’s happening.

“You’re my little doll. I love you, and you love me too,” he repeats it again and again. You eventually stop crying. You’re getting tired but you don’t want to fall asleep like this.

You try to push him off by his shoulders, but you miss and instead your arms slip around his neck, interlocking and pulling him closer.

He seems pleased, a small smile making its way to his face. You like when he smiles. You’d do whatever it takes to make him smile. You even smile back as you drift off. Bright, spiraling orange and yellow being the last thing you see. 

It’s pretty, so you don’t mind.

[opossum-rights]

Eyes on the Back of your Head

Rook Hunt x GnReader      2.3k Words

You feel like you’ve been going crazy lately, you can never shake off the feeling that you’re being watched. Little do you know it’s not just a feeling.

Warning: Pure cringe from several months ago that I dug up

Being a magic-less student in an institute designed to educate the best sorcerers in the land caused you to build quite a name for yourself. Those who didn't already know of you as the black sheep of NRC thought of you as the go-to remedy for the overblot crisis. Even now as things seemed relatively calm, you held somewhat of a celebrity status.  

Wherever you went there was always someone's eyes on you; during lunch you could feel them on the back of your head as you half listened to whatever Epel and Jack were chatting about, walking through campus to your next class you tried to ignore them by busying yourself with mediating some little argument Ace and Deuce were having, even when visiting your friends in their dorms you would insist on moving to their rooms, not being rid of them until the door clicked shut.

It was beginning to get tiring; you never got this much attention back in your own world.

Even if Ramshackle was a poor excuse for a living situation, with walls that did nothing to keep the cold out at night and floorboards that would creek if so much as a mouse ran across, you found yourself releasing all the tension from the day as soon as you caught sight of it. That was, until a couple nights ago.

Homework done, chores taken care of, you felt like you could finally breathe. That's when you felt the familiar feeling of being watched. Looking over a shoulder, Grim was snoring away on the old couch as he always did when you brought out schoolwork.

It could've been the ghosts, but they haven't been around lately.  It was pretty late, perhaps it's just Malleus waiting outside for you or one of the first years stopping by. Although, both of those occurrences follow up a text or warning of some kind. If it was one of them, though, you figured they wouldn't want to be held waiting.

You let out sigh and make your way to the main doors, creaking open no matter how careful you try to be with them for the sake of Grim's nape time. There's no one around. Not in the vast yard or down the path leading to the rest of campus.

"Weird, guess I’m starting to get used to how weird this place is," You mutter, thinking that if there was someone outside that they would take the hint of you going back in and show themselves.

But you stood outside for a couple minutes, thinking how weird it is that the feeling seems to be coming from inside.

The feeling eventually faded away and you were able to get to sleep at a reasonable time.

•••

The next night wasn't free from any strange occurrences either. Like the last, you got the intense feeling of being watched inside your home. Grim must notice it this time as well, being quieter than usual with his fur standing on end.

He got the more expensive brand of tuna that night to try and lighten the mood, and like usual, food proved to be the most reliable tool you had to deal with him. With Grim chatting away with his mouth full in the common room, you take the empty packages back to the kitchen to dispose of them.

Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, you lean on the counter and watch as the trees disappear in the night, starting from the back and slowly making its way towards you until you see nothing but the thin crack in the window. 

That's strange, you could have sworn that wasn't there before. The window was right above the sink, so you spent a lot of time gazing out of it as you mindlessly washed the dishes.

It was a pretty long one to, not something you could easily overlook. You lean closer and gently scratch the glass to see if which side of the window it's on, only for it to catch onto your finger.

Oh, you think to yourself, that's not a crack, silly, it's a strand of hair. You immediately cringe back and shack your hand to get it off. You could tell it wasn't Grim's, and it surely wasn't yours.

The blond strand falls to the ground and lands in the space under the cupboard full of dust. You grab the water and quickly make your way back to the common room, taking the empty bowl from Grim who's too busy falling into a food coma after his meal to notice the look of unease on your face.

Not wanting to get close to the window, or the kitchen in general, you place the bowl on an end table in the entrance of the room, scoop your cat up, and speed walk upstairs and into your room.

You deposit Grim on the bed, go over to the windows, and pull the curtains close with such force that you almost think they won't be able to handle it.

Making your way to the door you lock it and rattle the knob for a while to make sure it's working, then unlock it to do it again.

Even after the feeling fades and you're settled under the covers, Grim close to your side, you can't relax enough to sleep.

•••

The next day Epel mentions your shabby appearance at lunch, saying that Vil would throw a fit if he showed up to class looking like that. It makes sense, you stumbled through putting on your uniform this morning and the bags under your eyes don't help.

"I've just been a bit stressed lately. Haven't been getting much sleep cause of it, you know?" You try your best to send him a nonchalant smile.

"If you want something to help with that, I'm sure we could find something back in my dorm room. Vil's always giving me these creams to try, and I haven't even opened half of them," You accept his offer, wanting an excuse not to go back to Ramshackle when the day ends.

•••

You manage to avoid running into Vil as you made your way through Pomefiore, thankfully as he's started to take you under his wing in the same vein as Epel since his overblot. Feeling the calmest you've had in a while, you take a seat on his bed with Grim sitting in your arms as Epel rummages around in a drawer.

"Here's some stress relief stuff for your skin, not know how helpful it's gonna be with what you're dealing with, but it smells nice at least," He hands you a good-sized bottle of lotion which you gratefully accept.

"I'm sure it'll work fine. I'm already feeling better being able to hang out with you," A small blush spreads across his face as you rub a dollop of the lotion into your arm, taking a sniff. It's nice, has a sort of pine smell.

You chat for a while about Epel's upcoming magift game; he beams when you promise to be there, not mentioning that Leona would give you a hard time if you didn't. When Grim starts complaining that he's hungry, Epel offers to walk you back to the mirror. You're having a nice time, despite how weird things have been lately.

•••

All good things must come to an end, you suppose.

As the three of you pass a tree in the courtyard, something, or someone, jumps from a branch and lands right Infront of your path. You let out a little yell and stumble backwards, losing your footing and about to fall flat on your back, but the person from the tree quickly surges forward and grabs your arm to pull you back up.

"My my, caught you off guard, did I? To be expected from a hunter such as moi!" Rook apologizes for startling you, not letting his grip on your arm up even after you regain your balance.

Epel taps on your shoulder and hand you back the lotion, which must have been dropped during your scare. Rook moves his hand from your arm to his chin, giving you a once over as a questioning look shows on his face.

"Forgive me for saying, but has something been bothering you mon ami?" He glances at the bottle in your hand and messy uniform before moving back to your face.

"They've just been tired lately, gave them some stuff for it. I'm actually taking them back to the mirror right now," Epel states as he shifts back to your side, which you're thankful for, a bit too tired to deal with the eccentric blonde.

"Ah, Is that so? Well, then I wish you both a good evening, au revoir!" Rook steps aside as you and Epel pass. You can feel him staring as your back, a familiar feeling that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

•••

That night all you grab for dinner is a bag of chips, finding you're not that hungry and preferring to spend as little time as possible in the kitchen. As usual, the feeling of eyes sitting somewhere you can't see returns.

Earlier than usual you take Grim to bed, following your routine from the previous night. You stand Infront of the mirror in the bedroom and rub in some of Epel's lotion on the tensest parts of your face. You close your eyes, breath in and out, until you feel as relaxed as you can.

It was a nice day earlier, but now you can hear the wind howl past, pushing against the walls making a creaking sound that's a little too similar to the floor makes. As a result, you are too scared to sleep.

You feel crazy.

There hasn't been any concrete proof that anything strange is happening. Sure, there was the hair, but it's an old house, and it might've blown in from somewhere. The feeling, you're just not used to the attention and decidedly do not like it.

The creaking, from the wind outside. The wind that's apparently targeting the lower floor. It sounds like it's right under you. That shouldn't be possible, the way the dorm is built you should be right above the middle of the common room, not even close enough to the side walls.

Focusing more on the creaking under you, it comes to mind that it's louder than the noises coming from the walls. Despite the cold you can feel yourself sweat. The creaking moves, your eyes widen. It's on the stairs now, there's no denying that it's the floorboards now.

Each stair creaks under the weight of whoever's in your home, now settling on the second floor.

You try to keep your breath steady. It moves closer, they are in no rush.

You feel your body tremble. It stops outside your door.

You feel tears fall down your face.

There is no more creaking that night

•••

In the morning you try to go about things as usual to not upset Grim. You put off leaving the room until he falls after jumping to reach the knob, complaining about being hungry as usual. You hold your breath as you move downstairs, constantly checking over your shoulder.

Nothing is there. Despite your heart stopping every time you glimpse your own shadow, you desperately want to leave. You grab Grim, who grumbles that it's too early to leave yet. You don't look back as you close the doors behind you.

•••

"Are you sure you're okay, you look worse than yesterday," Epel looks concerned. The bags under your eyes are worse now, the area having a puffy look from your crying. You completely forgot some parts of your usual uniform, and you've been jumping at the slightest sound.

You feel bad for making him worry, confessing that you think someone broke into your dorm last night. He jumps up, immediately checking to see if you're visibly hurt. You look too shaken up to be joking.

"Come on, we need to get Crewel, or Crowly, or someone!" He starts to set off, but you quickly grab his hand, begging him to sit back down. You're not even a hundred percent sure that there was someone in the first place. You tell him that with exams coming up you don't want to bother the staff. He looks into your eyes, tearing up and despite, and sits back down.

He's not letting it go completely though, declaring that you're spending the night in his dorm, you're not going back to Ramshackle until him and some of the others check it out. You slump in your seat and nod.

•••

With exams many of the Pomefiore students are in the library or in their rooms studying, leaving you and Epel alone in the kitchen. You didn't stop at Ramshackle after classes, so all you have with you is your school bag, with your gym uniform as something to sleep in.

Grim was shipped off with Ace and Deuce, Epel saying that Vil banned any type of animal that sheds and that you two needed to study for a class you only had with him. They reluctantly agreed, you feel bad for Riddle already.

The air is tense, neither of you wanting to start the talk that needs to be had. Instead, you make uncomfortable small talk about how you're going to explain your sleepover to Vil. The conversation dies out, with Epel excusing himself to the restroom.

You're left alone. What are you doing?

You're getting Epel all worried for no reason and taking his attention away from studying. You feel shame rise in your chest, but feel a chill rise up your back. You look behind you, but there's no one there. The longer you sit here the worse the feeling gets.

You figure Epel wouldn't mind if you just went to wait for him in his room and quickly stand and grab your bag without pushing back your chair. As you move towards the dorm rooms, you hear the sound of a chair being set back into place and hitting a table. You speed up.

You look behind you, but nothing's there. You start to panic. The picture-perfect hallways make you confused, not knowing if you're by the first-year rooms or somewhere else. You swore Epel's room was this way, you can't afford to get it wrong.

Finally, you find his door. Wasting no time in rushing in, you turn and slam it shut. You try to control your breathing as you wait. You feel the blood leave your face as you turn and see bows and arrows hung on the wall. You know exactly who's room this is.

A pair of arms circles around your waist, keeping your from moving as if you could find the courage to in the first place. You feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"Mon ami, you gave a great chase! Truly reminiscent of a panicked little rabbit," Rook buries his face in your hair, smelling it as he rubs his thumbs on your stomach.

You feel sick.

"How sorry I am for your current state. That rotting building you call home didn't make it easy for me, but that matters not, as we're finally together!" He rocks you back and forth.

You feel his mouth by your ear, a tongue moving around the shell.

"Now that you’re here, we can discuss our happily ever after."

[cleumuu]

A baby Grim for a thankful 1k+ follows!!!🧡🧡 thank you so much!!🫶🫶

[god-of-my-world]

I’m playing hello charlotte (again) and I still struggle to summarize it…how do I describe this story without either spoiling the most important twist of the entire series or leaving out the weight and sincerity of the world etherane made?

It’s a cliché story about a little girl named Charlotte and her adventures and it’s not and it is.

It is a story about loss and depression and the agony of intentionally subjecting yourself to the horror of losing your own individuality for the sake of love.

It is a story about aliens that eat soap and cats that are maggots that are cats and 90s vaporwave ads and a man in a gas mask and rabbit ears who does surgery with duct tape.

It’s a story about a world created by a God who knows nothing but pain and can only try to find meaning in it. It’s about the other people around us who give that grey world color.

It’s about making human cookies with a flamethrower to a song called swedish fish and loving somebody so much you lose sight of who he was in the first place.

It’s about becoming a better person. It’s about the people who never got the chance.

It’s about existing solely to entertain and still trying to fight. And yet it’s about giving up.

It’s a story about nobody. A nonexistent story in the mind of a dead boy that nobody will ever remember.

And its a story about a little girl.

[borzoing]

Hello Charlotte Inktober Day 19: Alien

I’m uploading this really early because I love this sooo much and it’s been sitting in my mind forever yarrghjjj. 

[k-looking-glass-house]

Disney crack AU headcanon~ And your glass slipper's rescuer prince is.... the mermaid Jade Leech

People are still debating about "the little mermaid" live action.... And I'm here...drawing a 2d character mermaid "boy" as the Cinderella's prince.... (*savage moment*)

At the same time... his dorm ssr card story.....Just whuuut? Why does the tweels have such "otome vibes" groovy!!! lol

"Oya, did you really lost your slipper by accident?"

"Ahhh huuuuh~ *fake tears* That poor heart of mine is suffering from not finding the owner of this shoes! *sob sob*! But the owner can find us at Mostro lounge, we will give them a special coupon *sob sob*"

"Hmmm... I could use that glass slipper as a decorum for my next terrarium!"

_ Credits:_

Asset game extract from @alchemivich and twst game

“Twisted Wonderland” concept belongs to Yana Toboso

Jade Leech outfit "Mermaid but Cinderella's prince outfit" concept done by me

[opossum-rights]

Actually so pretty

[laitolove]

If you liked this as a kid,

You’re probably obsessed with this now:

[opossum-rights]

Masterlist

Jujutsu Kaisen:

A Cursed Place - Gojo x reader

Chapter 1

My Hero Academia:

The Way Things Happen - Main 3 x Reader

Prologue/Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Love and Deepspace:

Learn to Live a Little - Xavier x Reader

Chapter 1

Twisted Wonderland:

Eyes on the Back of Your Head - Rook Hunt x Reader

Obey Me:

Hypnotic - Asmo x Reader