PrussiaxReader-Treasure Chests (part two)Gilbert ran back into the room, still buckling his belt. He immediately sat back down in front of you and reached out his hand.
"What are you doing?" you asked him, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"Wha- So I'm not allowed to touch your boobs all the time?"
Gilbert sighed and pouted down at the floor, "Are you sure, 'cause-"
"I said no."
He scooted closer to you so his face was inches from yours. "Are you sure?" He whispered, "Because it seemed like you liked it…" He grinned mischievously at you.
You flushed, "N-No! I-I-I… I d-didn't!"
"Are you sure, Liebling…?" Gilbert asked you, staring you down with those beautiful red eyes.
'Oh Jeez…' You thought, 'There's no way I'm getting out of this…' So you did what went logically next. You kissed Gilbert.
At first he made a little surprised noise, jerking back awkwardly but soon he softened up, putting his arms around you and kissing you back with passion. You felt something press insistently against your closed lip
Sunday Morning Confession
The German would never believe that there was someone more flighty than Lovino if he didn’t know that person first hand. Unfortunately, there was a person more flighty than said Italian. Her name was ______ and it just so happened that she was the only girl Ludwig had let into his life willingly. What made the situation worse, was how he had come to love her over time.
When they first met, Ludwig and ______ were anything but compatible. They would fight over the silliest things like who had a better car, who could run faster, and even who could hold their liquor the longest. It had escalated so much to the point where they weren’t able to even be in the same room. Ludwig, however, mended the issue, being the more sensible of the two, and said they should try to be friends. That was few years ago. Now, the idea of only being friends with ______ was a constant thought in the German’s head. Every day since they reconciled, Ludwig has been peeling a layer off of ______. At first, her smiles were rare, and her bursts of laughter were even rarer. But eventually, he managed learn more about the mysterious woman: her likes, her dislikes. He learned all the simple things that guys didn’t really care to know, like how she hates how tangled her hair is in a the morning, how she loves watching nerdy TV shows until three in the morning on Saturday nights. These little details about _____ were extremely important in his eyes, all for the sole reason that she didn’t tell anybody these things often. It made him feel special to know that she liked him enough to tell him the details of her life.
_______ was not oblivious to the German’s feelings. She knew from the way he looked at her that he liked her in a way that friends were not supposed to like each other. She would never admit that she to herself, or anyone for that matter, that she liked him too. _____ was never the type for relationships or anything that required some form of commitment. She hoped that if she ignored her true feelings for Ludwig, they’d go away, just like any other interest. However, it’s been a few months since she realized her true feelings and they were not going away, if anything they were getting stronger. With each time he ran a pale hand through his blonde locks, or blinked his beautiful blue orbs, or even cracked his knuckles, she found herself falling more and more in love with him. But, with her being the way she was, she would never instigate anything that would take away from their perfect friendship.
Ludwig folded and unfolded his hands nervously as he walked the few blocks from his house to _____’s house. He was going to tell her today, no matter how much it terrified him. The only thing he took with him was his phone, for _____ would not appreciate anything like flowers or chocolates. He could only imagine what she would do with them upon receiving them. She would probably toss them out the nearest window, he chuckled. Boy could he pick ‘em! _____’s lack of femininity tickled his fancy though, for it was rare to find a woman who liked to fight or could beat him easily in basketball. He became increasingly nervous as the space between his and ______’s house dwindled. He thought for a second that he should turn around and go back home, perhaps he could come back that afternoon. He shook his head, for he knew that putting it off would only make it harder for him. He took a deep breath as he neared her door, preparing for the, probably cranky, but beautiful woman to greet him. He knocked twice, like he always would. He heard shuffling before the door swung open abruptly. There before him stood _____. She was dressed in pajama pants and a bathrobe. Her (h/l) (h/c) locks were a tangled mess, going in every direction while defying gravity. Her (e/c) eyes were half-lidded and barely open. She seemed too tired to even manage a glare.
“Kraut, it’s nine thirty on a Sunday morning. If you’re making me go to church with you, you’re early, it starts at eleven. So what do you want? You know I was busy watching Doctor Who and Dragon Ball Z last night.” He smiled softly at the nickname, it was irritating at first, but he knew she didn’t say it to offend him.
“I want to talk to you, _____.” She opened the door to let him in.
“Okay, what about? If you want food, I don’t have any. I don’t eat.” He chuckled.
“No, I don’t want any food.”
“Good, because I’m living off of soup right now, I’m too lazy to go to the store this early.” She welcomed him into her living room. He sat down beside her, not too close, but not too far either. He took a deep breath.
“______, we’ve—wait—hm, I—no—I—”
“Oh, for the love of God, spit it out! I could be in bed right now! You don’t have AIDS do you? Or is it some other form of STD?”
“No!” He took another deep breath before he opened his mouth.
“Are you moving?”
“Screw it!” She blinked before he placed his hands in her tangled hair and placed his lips securely on hers. She didn’t move for a while, but when the German started to pull away, she began to kiss him back. They pulled apart for the German to stare into her eyes. “____, I don’t want to just be your friend, I love you.” _____ nodded.
“I know, and I knew that’s what you were going to tell me.” The German blinked.
“Ludwig, I may not be feminine, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a woman. I’ll tell you this though: ditto.” Ludwig smiled.
“I’m glad to hear it, but I’d rather you say the words.”
“I love you, too, Kraut.”
“You’re still going to call me Kraut?”
“Yes, but only because you’re the sauer-est of all the sauerkrauts.” Ludwig smiled before he engulfed her in his large arms and snuggled with her on the couch. “You should probably go.”
“Why?” The German asked, astounded.
“I’m not really dressed and it’s almost ten thirty.”
“We could take a shower together~.” The female’s eyes widened before she promptly grasped the German’s ear and escorted (threw) him out of her house.
“Damned Kraut.” The German smiled on the other side of the door. Their future together was most definitely bright.
“It’s all yours,” your real estate agent said holding out the keys to your new home.
“Danke,” you thanked her. You had just purchased a flat in the heart of Berlin that had recently been restored; it had been abandoned at the end of World War II. You couldn’t understand why anyone would throw away such a lovely living space.
You immediately began unpacking all your belongings, starting with your pet ferret. He definitely seemed happy to be out of his carrier and out onto the floor where he could scamper around. All other things, clothes, bedding, kitchen utensils, etc. were placed in their proper places. You didn’t have a lot so the unpacking process went by rather quickly and easily.
Just as you were about to sit down and relax, you heard your ferret squeak frantically from the back bedroom. You raced to see if anything was wrong. Once in the room, you looked around for anything abnormal; everything seemed to be in order. “There’s nothing here silly,” you said to the long furry creature. He squeaked and crawled away, feeling insulted.
Later that night, you tucked yourself in bed in the hopes of getting a good night sleep. However, your slinky little pet continued to insist that something or someone was in your home. This went on for the next three days and you continued to ignore it until you saw a passing shadow glide through your doorway. You turned on your light and went out to if there truly was something in lurking in your flat. You slowly walked down the hall and could once again hear your ferret going off. However, this time his chattering was followed by a male voice.
“Come on now,” it said, “you’re going to wake her again.”
“Who are you?” you asked once you had entered the room. This seemed to startle the young man to whom the voice belonged to. He jolted back faster than anyone you’d ever seen as if he was weightless. That wasn’t the only thing bizarre about him. He had pale skin, snow white hair, and eyes red as blood.
“Forgive me fraulein,” he apologized, “I shouldn’t have come out tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and said in reply, “I’m guessing you don’t know who I am. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and seventy years ago this was my home.”
“Seventy years? But that would make you…”
“A bound spirit,” he concluded.
“A bound spirit,” you repeated, “so you’re like a ghost then right?”
“Ja, I suppose you could say that.”
You approached him and asked, “How did you die?”
“It’s a long story; you might want to sit down.”
Once you had seated yourself on the couch, Gilbert spun a tale of war and heartbreak. Apparently he was not the only resident of the flat in the mid-1940s. His girlfriend whom he chose not to name had lived there with him. After only a few months after settling in, Gilbert was drafted to serve in the war. Before his departure, he made her a promise that he would come back to her alive.
“And so you weren’t able to keep your promise?” you asked.
Gilbert shook his head and continued with his story. When the war ended, he returned to his home, ready to surprise her with his homecoming; he ended up being the one surprised. Sitting on the kitchen table was a note that she had written. She said that she was leaving him for another man that she claimed could satisfy her more than he could. Gilbert just felt like his heart had been shot at a million times by enemy bullets; he just snapped.
“I saw no point in living without her,” he explained sadly, “So I took my gun and ended my life.” You put your hand on his shoulder, surprised that it didn’t just pass right through. “Now I’m stuck here, to broken to pass on.”
“So that’s why this place was abandoned for so many years,” you commented.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to move out.”
“Why would I move?”
“You’d seriously want to live with the ghost of a war draftee who committed suicide?”
“I’d like to live in a flat that I can afford with my ferret and a nice guy even if that guy is a ghost from the 1940s. Now I’m gonna go back to bed.”
“Wait,” he said, “you haven’t told me your name.”
You looked back to him lazily and replied, “it’s _____.”
Over the next several days, you started going to bed later, wanting to converse with Gilbert. You told each other everything: likes, dislikes, childhood, and you even shared with him your own stories of heartbreak. You were sure you could trust him; who was he going to tell? The more you learned about each other the closer you got. “Is it normal to fall in love with a ghost?” you asked yourself.
One day, three months after you moved in, you were passing by a vintage shop in town. You entered, hoping to find something that would make Gilbert feel more at home in what used to be his home. You stumbled upon an old record player that came packaged with the musical stylings of Marlene Dietrich. After all, a record player with no records to play is just another object that’ll sit in the corner and collect dust. In addition to these things, you also found an old dress that looked to be about your size. You looked at yourself with it in a nearby mirror.
“It looks good on you,” the shopkeeper commented.
You jumped a little before saying, “Danke.”
“Is it for a boy?”
“Sort of,” you chuckled. After looking in the mirror a little while longer, you took the dress and record player to the checkout counter. The only problem was that you only had enough money to buy one or the other. Noticing your disappointment, the shopkeeper offered to give you the dress free of charge. “Oh sir I couldn’t.”
“It’s for love,” he insisted. You smiled and took him up on his offer, thanking him a million times over.
You returned to your home and saw no sign of your ghostly friend. “Gilbert?” you called to him.
“Ja?” he responded coming down the hall; he looked at your bag. “What’ve you got there?” You blushed a bit, saying it was a surprise.
Later in the evening, you asked Gilbert to stay in the back room while you set everything up. Once you had the record player set and the dress fitting comfortably on your body, you told him to come out. Gilbert stepped into the room wide-eyed at the scene in front of him.
“What’s all this?” he said flabbergasted.
“I was down at the vintage shop and for something that went more with your times; what do you think?”
“You’re…beautiful.” This compliment brought out another blush. You turned on the record player and by the look on Gilbert’s face, you were sure he knew this song.
“Would you like to dance?” you asked holding out your hand. He accepted your invitation, taking your hand lovingly in his own. You danced close to each other; Gilbert had missed the sound and feel of a heart beating.
“After decades of death,” he began, “never have I felt more alive. ______...”
“I know it might seem strange but…Ich liebe dich.”
A single tear made its way down your cheek. “I love you too.” Suddenly a glowing white light appeared on Gilbert’s chest; you pulled back. “What’s happening?”
“It’s my heart, it’s becoming whole again.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m sorry ______; I have to go.”
“What? No you can’t; I love you.”
“I love you too; even more so now because your love has set me free.”
“Gilbert…please don’t go.”
He smiled at you and kissed you softly; his lips were warm. “I hope you’ll remember me.”
The white light grew larger and brighter, too bright for you to continue looking at. When the light vanished, Gilbert had gone along with it. You fell to your knees, tears balling out of your eyes. Your ferret curled itself up to you in an attempt to ease your pain.
Two weeks later, you were in the square sitting on a bench. You had pretty much been on your feet all day. You nibbled on a pastry you had purchased from a close by vendor when you heard a voice say, “is this seat taken?”
You looked up and saw a tall man with slicked back blonde hair and bright blue eyes; he was very handsome. “Not at all,” you responded. He made a small smile and sat beside you. You thought about making conversation but thinking back to the night you lost Gilbert you were hesitant. Still you somehow managed to say, “I’m _____.”
He looked at you and introduced himself as well. “Ludwig; Ludwig Beilschmidt III.”
Did he just say Beilschmidt, as in the surname of the man you had lost just weeks ago? You were certainly curious to find out if there was any connection. “You wouldn’t any chance be related to a Gilbert Beilschmidt.”
“Oh ja, my grandfather’s older brother. He committed suicide after his girlfriend left him after World War II. Why are you asking?”
You explained to him that some months ago you had purchased the old flat where his great uncle used to live before his death. Interested in seeing a part of his family history, Ludwig asked if he could come by. You agreed, standing up from your seat on the bench, and leading him down the walk to the building.
“They had just finished restoring it before I bought it,” you explained.
“It’s very beautiful,” he commented, “much like yourself.”
You looked at him, blushing at the sudden compliment. You could see he was blushing as well only his was a tad darker. “Ludwig, would you like to have dinner with me?”
He chuckled shyly, “Ja, I’d like that.” You took each other’s hand and headed inside. You smiled softly, thinking back to the days when Gilbert was with you. You were sure that meeting his nephew was no coincidence, but a blessing from your late love; you thanked him sincerely.
“What are you doing. I thought this is a no homo thing.”
“N-Nothing! And it is not homo at all!”
But it is, Kuroo, it is.
// Kuroo Tetsurou x Male!Reader//
Picture © Haruichi Furudate
Story/ Plot © KatelinLikesFeenie
You © Yourself
Kuroo "No Homo" Tetsurou © Haikyuu!!
Haikyuu!! © Haruichi Furudate