#carefully make my way over to the teacher and maybe one of my classmates would ask me whats wrong and i wouldnt be able to answer wo crying

[agaypanic]

Hello! I'd love to request Charlie Swan with a teacher girlfriend. Perhaps he comes to visit on his lunch or something and sees how attached the kids are to her and it makes him happy to see how caring she is. Please and thank you!(I work with pre k but my former class was todds and they are still clingy 💖💖)

Lunch Break (Charlie Swan X Teacher!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan visits his girlfriend on his lunch break, and can’t help but adore the way she is with her students.

A/N: i know nothing about taking care of or teaching little kids lol

***

Charlie wasn’t used to being around a toddler, let alone twenty of them. Even when his daughter Bella was at that age, he didn’t see her much. 

Yet here he was, sitting in his girlfriend’s classroom, having lunch with her while a group of toddlers napped on the floor.

“So, how’s your day been?” You asked in a whisper, picking at the burger and fries that Charlie had brought you from the Carver Cafe.

“Oh, not much.” He responded in an equally low voice, but more gruff. His fingers smoothed over his mustache before speaking again. “Still looking into those missing persons cases, but we’ve been coming up with nothing.”

“You’ll find something, bear.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch. “You always do.”

“Yeah, maybe… But enough about me, how’s your day?”

You let out a tiny laugh, not surprised that Charlie would bounce the attention onto you as soon as he could.

“Well, today we had an art day.” You gestured to one of your tables on the opposite side of the room, covered in different drying papers. “Watercolor, crayon, markers, that kind of thing. That was really fun. I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but I really like Delilah’s. You know her mom, right? Samantha?” Charlie nodded after a quick moment of thought, and so you continued. “Well, she wanted to make a meadow, so she covered her paper in green, and then she stamped little fingerprints all over as flowers. I mean, you kinda have to ask her what it is to figure out what it is, but I don’t know, it was really cute and- oh my god, I’m rambling, huh?” You covered your mouth to stop more word vomit from spilling, a little giggle slipping past your fingers.

Charlie pulled your hand away, laying a kiss on your knuckles. He nudged your knee with his own, a coy smile on his lips.

“No, I like hearing you talk.” Your cheeks reddened, and you scrunched your nose at him. He squeezed your hand. “Come on, keep going. What happened after painting?”

“Read the kids a story.” You answered, trying to remember the title. “They really like that Llama Llama book. But some of the kids really wanted ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!’ so I told them I’d read that after nap time. Then they all had food, fell asleep, and then you came with lunch.” You ate a fry before stealing a sip of Charlie’s coffee. You liked how he didn’t mind, instead watching you with a fond expression. “Which is delicious, by the way, thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

“Ms. Y/n?” A tiny voice sounded from one of the sleeping mats. You gave Charlie’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and standing up from your chair.

“Jayden?” You asked quietly, even though you knew it was him from his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Bad dream.” The little boy answered, rolling off his cot and looking at you with bleary eyes and a frown.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey.” You said softly, crouching down close to him. “Do you want a hug?”

He nodded a few times, carefully walking through his sleeping classmates to reach you. He latched his arms around your neck, and you patted his back, waiting until he felt better.

Charlie saw the interaction from the corner of his eye, not wanting little Jayden to feel watched. He couldn’t help but smile at how quickly you were able to comfort him. It was clear that you were made for this kind of work, being so caring and nurturing without even thinking about it.

“Feeling better?” You asked Jayden as he let go of you, and he nodded. You smiled at him. “I’m glad. Now, you have a couple more minutes before we gotta start waking up. Do you wanna lay back down?” Jayden nodded again, and with a little wave of his hand, he tiptoed back over to his mat. 

When he was settled, you stood up from your crouched position and went back to Charlie, who was looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“What?” You asked, finishing off the rest of your food.

“Nothing.” He said, shaking his head a bit. Charlie looked at his watch and sighed, realizing his break was almost over. “I should probably leave. The boys’ll need me back at the station soon.”

“Okay.” You said with a slight pout, wishing you had more time with him. The two of you cleaned up, Charlie insisting that he could throw the trash away on his way out. “I’ll see you later, bear.”

“See you soon, sweetheart.” Charlie kissed your cheek and went to the door, giving you a wave before exiting the room.

[fallenangelicss]

Catching Stray Kisses

PAIRING | Bridget | Queen of Hearts/James Hook

WORD COUNT | 1077

SUMMARY | When bored in class, Briget reverts to people-watching to pass the time. What she didn't expect was to find someone already watching her. The culprit behind it also seems to be pretty good at pulling a rise out of her.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | This is my first time partaking in a month-long prompt list so I'm going to do my best to keep up with it can get as many done as I can. It'll hopefully give me a reason to write more which I desperately need. Also, if you'd like to support me then you should consider downloading the Kinder World app with this link. My referral code is WV9K4X but if you need a new referral code then feel free to reach out!

EVENTS | @aug-kissed | Blow A Kiss

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Bridget sat bored in class, her head resting on one of her hands as her feet kicked back and forth under the desk. As much as she loved Merlin’s classes, they tended to drag on when they weren’t doing any sort of practical work. The singular hour that they were in the room seemed to stretch on for days and it didn’t help at all that it was the last lesson before they were free to do as they pleased. 

Ella sat next to her, carefully taking notes as Merlin taught at the front of the room, occasionally writing what seemed to be nonsense on the chalkboard. Bridget knew it would be smarter for her to just pay attention now so she wouldn’t have to beg Ella later for her notes but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the teacher for more than a few moments at a time, all the information he was spouting going in through one ear and out the other. 

It was honestly exhausting just sitting there. Bridget was ready to go up to her dorm and take a nap until dinner time then maybe make some sort of sweet treat afterwards that she could share around. She didn’t know what she would make but she knew she was itching to stand in front of her homemade mini-kitchen and get back to what she loved doing. 

Letting her eyes dance around the classroom after they instinctively went back to the clock hanging on one of the walls, seeing how they still had another twenty minutes to go before class was over, Bridget resorted to some sightseeing, attempting to find something that could keep her occupied while she waited for the bell to ring. 

Most of the students in the room, like her, seemed to be too bored to comprehend what was happening in front of them which could only be Merlin’s fault as he should’ve known better than to give anyone a theory lesson as their last class on a Friday. 

Like most days, Bridget noticed Uliana terrorising some of her classmates with her tentacles, trying to be discreet about it. At her side sat Morgie, which Bridget wasn’t surprised to see. Laughing almost uncontrollably at whatever it was that Uliana did, Morgie was always attempting to be a good villain for her. Another thing Bridget wasn’t surprised to see was Hades and Maleficent sat next to one another, their hands interlocked while Maleficent sketched something on some scrap paper and Hades messed around with some sort of fire magic. 

What Bridget was however surprised to see was Hook sitting by himself and staring directly at her. Normally he would be the one sitting next to Uliana, if not he would drag Morgie into the seat next to him so he was never by himself. But to see him alone and staring directly at Bridget was a shock, especially when he didn’t look away once he noticed Bridget had caught onto his stare. 

Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, Bridget came face to face with Hook every time she opened her eyes. Not knowing what to do, a shy smile made its way onto her face to not seem rude under Hook’s stare. 

What Hook did next though threw her for a loop.

A smile of his own crept its way onto Hook’s face, the grin being more of a smirk than anything else. His eyes slowly crept up and down Bridget's frame before sending a wink her way, making a pink hue dust her cheeks as she zapped back around and faced the front of the classroom.

“Are you okay,” Ella asked, noting how Bridget was sitting with her spine straight and a flustered expression on her face. Still taking notes as she waited for an answer, Ella’s eyes ticked up to where Bridget was attempting to glance over her shoulder without getting caught and failing to do so. “Did something happen?”

“Nope,” Bridget quickly said, hands coming together and interlocking. Although Ella wasn’t born to much status like Bridget was, she could still notice when someone’s Princess was showing and that was exactly what was happening here as Bridget gushed to herself. Something regarding a boy had just happened and Ella was going to figure out what and who it was no matter what. “Everything is perfectly fine and normal. No reason to be worried at all.”

“Saying that just makes me more suspicious,” Ella warned, noticing how Bridget tensed up a little before sighing, almost as if her resolve was breaking. With just a little more pressure, Bridget would spill everything to her but it seemed like not much effort would be needed from Ella as Bridget was already undoing herself, fidgeting in her seat as she tried not to look back and giveaway who it was. Stopping for a moment before Ella looked back herself to see who it was, she rested a hand on Bridget’s arm and said, “It’s fine Bridget, you can tell me anything. I’m certainly not one to judge you.”

“You’re right,” Bridget smiled, returning the favour and grabbing onto Ella’s wrist, running a thumb over it. “I just noticed someone staring at me and…” “And you think they’re cute?” Ella finished the sentence for her, one of her eyebrows raising at Bridget as she waited for a response. Thinning her lips together, Bridget nodded her head, the blush that was previously coating her cheeks intensifying. “Okay, who is it?”

“Well…” Bridget trailed off, her eyes flicking backwards before looking back at Ella. With a nod of her head in his direction, the two of them looked back at the same time to see Hook still staring at Bridget, the same smirk still coating his face. His eyes didn’t move from Bridget’s face, solely focused on her and not even acknowledging Ella. Raising his hand that wasn’t occupied with a hook, Hook blew a kiss towards Bridget, a chuckle pouring from his mouth when both Bridget and Ella whipped back around.

“Did he just?” Bridget started, not having to finish her sentence for Ella to understand.

“Yeah,” She nodded, just as surprised as Bridget. This was news to Ella. She would have to do a serious amount of stalking and research before she let that pirate anywhere near her friend but for now, it wouldn’t hurt. “Looks like you won’t have to look too hard for a Castlecoming date.”

[nicksolemnlyswears]

OMG that old ask of yours about Han being a boy dad made me so 🥺, it stole my entire heart in just a few sentences. The babygirl on your headcannon also made my heart flutter in the best way possible. Which made me think: How do you think Han would react if he sees someone making mean comments about his son or daughter being mixed? Like calling him or her "crossbreed", "half-breed", "hafu/gaijin" (or other derrogatory terms in japanese or korean, besides english) or also making comments about their appearence (such as eye shape or skin tone) 👀

Hello there lovely!!!

Okay this is a good one! Let me know if you like what I wrote!

So...how would Han react to his kid being teased about their appearance as a foreigner?

-if his kid comes over to him and tells him there are kids teasing them his first reaction would somewhat like this:

"don't pay attention to them, bubs. they don't know what they're talking about"

-because although han has faced some racism he's never thought twice about it. he's confident in who he is. he's used to deflecting all those comments.

-but then maybe han would find them digging through mom's make up to somehow make their skin lighter, or they would refuse to simply go out into the sun if it's not without a hat, hoodie, and long pants. maybe they insist in always using their sunglasses to cover their eyes because they are different from all of their classmates.

-that would be an alarming signal for han to seriously step in and talk about the issue at hand.

"what's going on, bubs?" he'd ask them as he takes off the hat and/or sunglasses.

they would be shy to look han in the eyes but they melt into the arm wrapped comfortingly around them, "some kids at school are making fun of me because i'm different. they call me names."

"i'm sorry i didn't do anything sooner. would you like me to go to school with you and help you talk to the teacher?" he'd ask them, kissing the top of their head.

"yes, please," they would cutely murmur, nodding along.

"look at me, bubs," han says, catching their attention properly. his heart aches seeing their glassy eyes, "there is nothing wrong with looking different than your classmates. i'd say it's actually pretty cool, it makes you unique."

"really?" his young kid would sniffle, cleaning the snot with their arm.

han would chuckle, cleaning the stray tears away from their chubby cheeks, "yeah! how do you think i got such cool friends and got the prettiest girl ever to marry me?"

they would laugh with a giggle and shrug to their dad's words. afterwards they would go out as planned with nothing unnecessarily covering their appearance.

-han would go to school asap to get everything sorted out. he would talk to the teacher along with his kid.

-if he sees any of the kids making fun of his child...let's just say he'd not above scaring a couple of snotty kids. trust me, a glare and some carefully picked words can go a long way when it comes to kids.

-as a last resort, han would give the typical 'if they make fun of you, make fun of them back' or, if it comes to violence, 'hit them back harder. i wont let you get in trouble.'

-safe to say han would get called to the principal's office the next week.

[doctorstethoscope]

Sink or Swim || February

hello again friends <3 I've had a really hard week and do not know what to say here lol but hope you enjoy this update.

Masterlist

contains: discussion of food (no consumption), discussion of germs

wordcount: 1.3k

Hotch doesn’t want to tell the team about Alexis until he feels like he has a better grasp on how to balance everything— his work, his friends, his child, now children. You think it’s a little ridiculous, know that the team would drop everything to help him if only they knew, but you respect his choice.

You, however, made yourself the exception to the cloak of secrecy by virtue of the fated soup delivery, and as such, you were soaking up all the baby snuggles you could get. In between helping, of course. Hotch had hired a nanny for when cases came in, whom you had a hand in selecting. Bridgette was perfect, a masters student who could remote into her classes as necessary and had nannied for plenty of D.C. families before, so she understood a chaotic and ever-changing work schedule. She also kept the baby out of daycare, which gave Hotch some peace of mind– Lexie was still so young, and he knew from Jack how quickly schools could become germ factories. Jess helped out as she could, and most nights after work you’d really only go home to change your clothes before heading over to the Hotchner household. Some nights you’d cook dinner or help Jack with his homework, others you’d change diapers and brave spit up on your comfy clothes. You’d all gotten into a rhythm, one smooth enough to have Hotch thinking maybe everything really would work out. 

You’re stirring a pasta sauce with the baby monitor set up next to the oven on this particular evening, while Jack and Aaron are sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Okay, your teacher sent out a list of all of your classmates,” Aaron says as he pulls out the paper from Jack’s backpack, which looks almost miniature compared to his frame. “Make sure you put everyone’s name on a card, alright buddy? We don’t want anyone to be left out,” he explains as Jack tries to work open the box of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Valentines’ Day Cards that they had picked out at the drugstore together. 

“Will I have enough?” He looks up at his dad, and you catch the way his eyebrows pinch in the middle, exactly the same as his father’s. 

“You will, I made sure of it. And you’ll have four extras, just in case.”

Assured by his father’s math, he gets to work, deftly removing stickers from the enclosed packs and placing them on the cards, and carefully scrawling his classmates names in the appropriate spot. Hotch rises from his chair after a moment and crosses the kitchen to come stand next to you. 

“Need any help here?” He asks. It took a while for him to be comfortable enough to let you participate, and you smile at the memory of those first few days, somehow only weeks and also a lifetime ago. There were a few nights where he’d insist that he could feed Lexie, cook dinner, and help Jack with his homework all at once, shooing you away any time you’d try to assist. Things were easier, now that he understood that he wasn’t Superman, even if Jack would always think so. 

“I’m all set,” you tell him. “I think this will all come together by the time Jack’s done. He needs a bath tonight, they played soccer in gym today and you can tell.��� 

Hotch chuckles at the way your nose scrunches up while you talk. “Yeah, I noticed that too. He scored a goal, though. He told Bridgette all about it at pick up,” he explains proudly.

You smile. “That’s nice.” 

Hotch sidles in behind you, and you tense up a little at the contact, wondering what exactly he’s doing but secretly hoping he’ll do more of it, when he reaches around you for the baby monitor. 

“She took a long nap today, but she’s starting to wake up now,” he notices, pursing his lips. 

“I take it you want the first cuddles?” You ask with a mock exasperated sigh.

“She is 50% my DNA, I think I’m entitled,” he teases. 

“Fine, fine,” you relent. “But you’re also stuck with the post-nap diaper, so it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” 

A few minutes later, he emerges with Alexis, who grows bigger each time you blink and has your entire heart wrapped around all three centimeters of her pinky finger. He brings her back to the kitchen table, and Jack practically climbs up on his chair to get a look at her. 

“Did you finish your Valentines, Jack?” Hotch looks over the spread his son has created. 

“Yep. I have four left, just like you said. Do you need them for your work?” He asks sweetly, and Hotch laughs goodnaturedly, stifling it a little so his son doesn’t get self-conscious. 

“No, we don’t really give each other Valentine's Day cards at work, buddy,” Hotch explains.

“Why not?” He asks. 

“Well, we don’t really need to—” Hotch starts to explain, but Jack cuts him off. 

“Ms. Hadley says that Valentines’ Day is important because you need to tell people how much you care about them,” he explains. “We care about Ms. Garcia and Ms. Jareau and Dr. Reid and—” 

“Of course we do, Jack,” Hotch cuts him off. “And there are a whole lot of ways that we can show it, not just cards.” 

“Like how?” 

“Well, we can give things, like cards or gifts. Or we can say nice things to tell people that we’re thinking about them and we love them. We can give hugs and kisses, like you do with your sister,” Hotch explains, craning his arms towards Jack so he could give Lexie a kiss. “Or we can spend time with people, and help them with things.” 

Jack’s face lights up at that, and he clambers out of his chair and into the kitchen, raising his arms and wordlessly demanding to be held. You scoop him up with a smile, and he puts his squishy hands on either side of your face. “Like when you come over and make dinner and read stories and change Lexie’s stinky diaper… that’s because you love us? Me and Lexie and Daddy?”  He asks. 

“Of course, bug,” you answer easily, even as the implication of his father makes your throat tighten. “I love you sooo much,” you say, before peppering his face with kisses and making him giggle. “Go wash up, okay? Dinner is ready.” you tell him, setting him down and watching him race towards the bathroom. 

Aaron comes into the kitchen, then, passing the baby off to you so he can clear Jack’s mess and set the table. You take her with grateful arms, tuck your face into hers so you don’t have to look your boss in the eye after practically telling him you loved him, even if you both knew that wasn’t what you meant. 

“He has a point, you know,” Aaron remarks as he pulls plates out of the cabinet.

“Hmm?” You remark, not pulling your eyes from Lexie’s.

“You do a lot for us. Far more than you have any obligation to do. And it doesn’t go unnoticed,” he elaborates, his voice a slow, even baritone that feels like a betrayal to the way your heart thrums into your chest.

“I’m happy to do it, Hotch. You know that,” you dismiss him. 

“I know,” he says. “Sometimes I worry that I take advantage of your kindness.” 

“You’re not,” you assure him. “I’m here of my own free will.” 

“Because you… care about us,” He says, seeming to change his mind in the middle of the sentence. 

“If that much wasn’t clear, I’m sincerely concerned about your skills as a profiler,” you snort, cracking a joke to diffuse the tension you were beginning to worry that only you felt.

“Watch it, agent,” he snickers as you make silly faces at Lexie, a further tactic to avoid him. “But in case I hadn’t made it clear, we care very deeply about you, too.”

taglist: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @call-me-mrsreid @lostinthefandoms11 @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @ashhotchner @wheelsupkels @infinite-tides @zetasaturno99 @itsmeiguessidk @ahouseforhermitcrab @catsofsmoke @silversighs @anlin2058 @red-red-rogue @bylones

[brittlebutch]

Alright! So, that fic about that disastrous first day of school when Erin’s eight got me thinking: If Peg’s quietly enduring all that shit from the other moms to try to get her a good education, maybe she isn’t the only parent doing that. It’s possible Erin’s not the only kid who’s singled out for being “different,” and any other kid in a similar boat would probably reach out and try to make friends.

I started thinking about some solidarity happening in the aftermath of that, and I came up with a concept that you can absolutely take or leave: A physically disabled girl—I’ve been picturing, like, a limp—in Erin’s class/grade reaching out to make friends the next day, and the solidarity being instantaneous.

Again, there’s no pressure, feel free to take it or leave it—this plot bunny just wouldn’t leave me alone until I dropped it in your askbox, and (at least in my case, growing up) I feel like physically disabled/NT solidarity is a pretty common thing.

(And also the mental image of Erin bringing this kid home for a play date—and said kid immediately imprinting upon Hawkeye because A: he’s a cool, funny adult, and B: he’s like Erin, which means all three of them have a little in common—is both hilarious and fluffy as hell. Just—I could totally see him slowly amassing a gaggle of adoptive kids with every new friend Erin makes.)

—MASH!Anon

Oh love that; it's actually very similar to a fic that I was trying to write that never got done - Erin making friends with a young gay boy in her class when they're in 4th/5th grade; if i ever wind up circling back to finish that one, it would be So great to integrate this idea in there as well, since all of the fics in this series have been split up into 3s so far!

as a bonus i'll put in an exerpt of that WIP that i've dug out of an old notebook :3 (bullying tw tho)

[Context: Erin saw this boy being knocked around by some classmates and told her teacher, who broke it up, but the classmates shoved her into the mud as retaliation for 'trying to get them in trouble']

"Do you need help?" someone asks, and Erin freezes because she does not know if they are only waiting to be mean or not. She stays silent, and they sigh. "You do. Come on, I can get the mud out."

She doesn't really want to go with them, but she knows that the bathroom is the right next step anyway, so she follows, tense with anticipation for what they might spring on her.

But the boy only checks that the bathroom is empty before pulling her inside, turning on the sink, and examining the stains on her sleeves critically.

"It'll be easier if you take it off," he says, but Erin shakes her head fast. The last time someone asked her to take off her sweater so that they "could take a look at it", they had run off and hid it. The teacher said that maybe it was good that she took a break from it for a while, and only made the other kids give it back when Erin started crying so hard she almost made herself sick.

The boy shrugs, and pulls Erin over to stick her whole arm under the running water, carefully scrubbing at the fabric with his fingers, and it reminds Erin of Hakweye - the way he washes her sweater and his robe together in the sink, as gentle as possible to keep the fabric from all wearing out.

"I have to wash the mud outta my pants all the time when they push me," the boy explains suddenly, startling Erin with the sound of his voice. "My mom would get so mad if I let them all stain."

That's when Erin recognizes him. "You are the boy they were kicking," she says.

He winces - "Sorry," he mumbles. "Does it bother you that a homo's the one washing your clothes?"

Erin thinks of Hawkeye. "No," she says, but doesn't elaborate. She understands her parents' secret even more now, and this boy might be kind, and he might even be the same, but Erin doesn't know him enough to trust him. "My name is Erin," she adds belatedly.

"I'm Danny."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I could do a scenario where reader loves to mess with megumi's hair, but suddenly she stops because she thinks she's bothering him.

The first time you notice how soft his hair is was when you were returning to school after a long mission.

You were riding in a car with the entire first-year gang. Nobara sat in the front seat next to Ijichi while you were placed in the back between Yuji and Megumi. The ride back was a long one. After an exhausting day of exorcising curses, you were all tired. Nobara and Yuji ended up falling asleep minutes into the ride, leaving Megumi to watch the sights passing through the window and you shyly trying to make conversation with him.

It's hard considering the strong crush you have on your fellow classmate. He was intelligent, kinder than he really let on, and fairly mature (at least compared to the people you’re usually around). His good looks were the cherry on top of the entire package. Everyone knew Megumi was a pretty boy and often teased him about it. He had fair skin, long, thick eyelashes, and your favorite being his dark hair. It looked so soft whenever your teacher would pat his head, flattening out the black tresses and ruffling them, much to Megumi’s chagrin. But you really wished you could feel as well.

You were the type of person to show your fondness for others through touch. Some people liked it, and some didn’t. For example, Yuji normally had no problem with you touching him, even welcomed it. You weren’t brave enough to ask someone like Megumi for the same sort of relationship, so you kept your hand to yourself when it came to him. At least until Megumi fell asleep, leaning against the car door for support. It’s then you saw your chance and carefully reached to touch one of the longer spikes.

The little black point wavered at your poking, lightly curling around your index finger as you swirled it around. You giggled to yourself about it. It’s thicker and fluffier than you imagined and also incredibly soft, proving Kugisaki’s theory about a ton of hairspray wrong.

Suddenly, a bump in the road cut your touching short, and you quickly jumped away when Megumi’s eyes began to flutter open.

Suspicious, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said calmly despite your heart thumping under his gaze, but he dropped his interrogation as you all pulled into the school’s parking lot.

That was three months ago.

Now, the two of you were dating, and you saw that as permission to continue your physical intimacy with your more introverted boyfriend.

“Good morning, guys,” you greet your classmates and teacher with a wave, saving your happier actions for Megumi as your hand immediately goes towards his head to ruffle his hair. You pull your hand away but not before letting your fingers clasp your favorite cowlick. Giving a gentle tug, you let it bounce back into place with a smile.

Megumi groans softly, his mouth pursed into a slight frown as he goes to fix his hair back into its normal disarray.

Gojo claps, bringing your attention towards him. “Well now that everyone’s here, let’s go shopping.”

With that, the five of you head to the shopping district despite the heat bearing down on the city. You spend about an hour walking around before deciding to take a break so Nobara and Gojo can catch their breath in the shade while you return some clothes you bought a few weeks earlier across the street. Megumi and Yuji go to buy all five of you drinks, but it isn’t long before you hear Yuji yelling from outside the store.

“Sensei! Kugisaki! Fushiguro is getting hit on! We have to protect (L/Name)’s relationship!”

Before you could even stop them, they’re already up and running in Fushiguro’s direction. Sighing, you grab your card from the store owner and run to catch up with your group.

When you arrive, Kugisaki and Itadori are already clinging to him and ranting something about being in love with him before Gojo saunters up in his best casual wear to challenge them. You have to stifle back a laugh as he goes on about music practice and homewrecking before the event ends with Megumi smacking Yuji in the head as Nobara and Gojo stalk off, defeated.

Hearing your laughter, Yuji cowers behind you with tearful chibi eyes. “Do you see that, (Name)? Fushiguro is so mean. I was only trying to help him and that's the treatment I get .”

“You didn’t help at all. You were nothing short of embarrassing.”

You giggle at the two before reaching out to your silently fuming boyfriend. “No need to be so grumpy, Megumi-kun, or did Gojo give you too much violin homework,” you sing out teasingly, earning a growl about how it isn’t funny as you playfully scramble his hairstyle.

“And that! Will you stop with that?” Megumi demands and forcefully shoves your hand away. “It’s so annoying. You don’t see me petting you all day like some damn pet.”

“Oh,” you say, stepping back from him in your shock. This is the first time Megumi has brought up how you chose to dote on him. Yes, he’d quietly grumble about it from time to time like most things, but he never yelled at you about how you chose to display your affection. You guess you never really realized how much it truly bothered him. Biting back the hurt in your voice, you apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Megumi grunts softly in response, and Yuji decides it’s probably best to ask Gojo to take you all home for today.

It isn’t long after that Megumi begins to notice your interactions with him starting to change. He apologized for yelling at you soon after the event, but you were still much less touchy with him even after accepting his apology.

Normally, you’d grab onto his hand without so much as asking or surprise him with kisses on his cheek. Now, you only hold his pinky from time to time and only if he asks. You also stop your go-to of rubbing his head when you’d greet him or playing with the ends of his hair when you were bored.

Megumi thought maybe something was bothering you, but then he noticed how you’d still laugh and joke around with Yuji and Nobara, your hand gripping onto their shoulder when they’d tell an extra funny joke or affectionately patting them on the back. That wasn’t the worst though. The worst was when you’d absentmindedly sweep Yuji’s hair back into place when it got messy from training. The jealousy it sparked in Megumi was the last straw that makes him decide to ask you what was wrong.

You’re surprised when he tugs on your sleeve, interrupting your conversation with Itadori and Kugisaki. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Sure,” you say, nodding off to Itadori and Kugisaki before following Megumi to the waterspouts outside. You both sat together on the brick square surrounding the structure. It’s a few quiet seconds of you staring at Megumi as he folds his hands in front of him and lazily taps his foot. Dark blue eyes stare at you before dropping back to the ground.

“Are you still mad at me for yelling at you the other week?”

You shake your head. “I told you it’s fine. I’m not mad at you about that.”

“Then, it’s something else,” he decides, and he desperately tries to rack his brain for what else he could have possibly done wrong, “I’m sure I didn’t forget your birthday or anything. Do you not like me anymore or something?”

Gasping, you deny his claim, “Of course I like you, why would you think I don’t?”

“Because you’re not so friendly with me anymore like the way you are with the others, so either you’re upset with me, or you don’t have the same feelings for me as you do with them.”

“It’s neither of those things. With Yuji and Nobara, they’re both sociable people, but you aren’t like them. You don’t like all that kind of stuff, and I don’t want to annoy you by doing things you don’t like.”

Megumi scowls at your confession, sighing because he remembers exactly why you must be talking like this so suddenly. He specifically called your touches annoying, and he inwardly curses at himself for it. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I don’t like it…” he begins unsurely then pauses.

“Then, what?”

Megumi groans softly, an embarrassed heat starting to build in his cheeks as he quietly croaks out, “Feels good.”

“What’s that?” you ask, scooting closer so you can hear him better.

Megumi blushes lightly and cranks his head to look away from your cutely confused blinking. “It feels good when you do it,” he repeats robotically.

“When I do what?”

“When you play with my hair,” he hesitantly explains in more detail, “When Gojo does it, it’s aggravating, but I don't mind so much with you.”

Hesitantly, you ask, “So is it okay if I do it now?”

Megumi nods. “If you want.”

Cautiously, you lift your hand, pulling back in doubt a few times before ultimately sliding your fingers through his hair and rubbing. Megumi groans softly at your touch, and you realize that all those rushed noises of aggravation were actually him moaning from how light and comforting your touch was. You move your hand forward and backward some more, massaging his head until his head starts nodding and his eyes flutter a bit.

You giggle at him. “Are you falling asleep? You’re such a kid.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

You laugh louder as he scoffs to hide his embarrassment.

“In that case, you can sleepover with me tonight, and we can do this if you want,” you offer sweetly, and Megumi glances at you, thinking it over. As your smile grows and your hand hits that sweet spot right at the nape of his neck, he couldn’t deny that he liked the idea of falling asleep with you playing with his hair.

“I’d like that.”

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[strawberry-possum]

Just the idea of wearing a grey shirt and black shorts makes me uncomfortable and today I accidentally did that and by the time I realized (which was like five or six hours into the day I guess I really don't pay attention to what I wear lol) it was too late bc people had already seen what I was wearing so if I randomly changed for no reason in the middle of the day it'd look weird and every time I remember I die a little inside

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[thebeautyoffanfics]

WAAAH I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE REQUEST TT^TT TO THE ANON WHO WISHED FOR THE TERU X READER, ANGST TO FLUFF, HERE IT ISS;; I'M SO SORRY;;;;;

teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: thank you so much for being patient and understanding, though I’m still so sorry for how long this took;;!! It really does mean a lot, so truly- thank you for that, and for the encouragement <3! But!! Of course, I’m a bit of a sucker for angst to fluff, tho I don’t write it too often, so I hope it turns out alright! Thank you so much for requesting, and for your encouragement!!! <3 <333

warnings: self deprecating thoughts..?

word count: 1,848

Your eyes drifted around the room. Person to person, conversation to conversations. Yet, you sat at your desk, lunch in front of you, completely alone. You had a boyfriend, yes, but you didn’t even know where on earth he could be… no, he usually sat with you during lunch. However, today he walked up to you, announcing that he had to attend to something during lunch. He asked if you could eat your lunch without him today, and… well, who were you to say no?

The bell rang, and your lunch remained barely touched. You were sure you wouldn’t have been so dramatic normally- however, it felt as if Teru was practically avoiding you at this point. In fact, it almost felt like he was ditching you for someone else. The thought was enough to make you feel nauseous- both because of it being unpleasant, and because you felt bad for simply thinking it. Teru was a good person. You wouldn’t have fallen for him if he wasn’t. Still, he was only human… and, in your head, there were many other humans out there much more fit for Teru. She was one of them.

Her hair flowed alongside her. Her skin was practically flawless. Her teeth weren’t crooked, and her smile was… frankly, flawless. Good grades, good body, good personality. A lovely match for the prince of the school. A princess suited just for him.

Yet, he seemed to stick with the… well- what was the opposite of a princess? A… troll? You did suppose that, compared to someone like that, a troll was a fair enough comparison. Nothing but a creature in the face of such beauty.

The worst part, you were sure, was the fact that Teru did spend time with her. In fact, you were confident that she “needed him” for something during lunch, causing him to miss out on yet another thing. As if grabbing his attention after school during club activities wasn’t enough. As if going to him constantly to ask for help on things you were positive she was perfectly good at. Her grades were nearly as good as his… was it because he helped her? In that case, why were your grades still lower…? Teru helped you study plenty of times- and, while your grades did get better, you were sure you couldn’t get all 99s and 100s. It was impossible for someone who couldn’t be any form of royalty.

You leaned over, placing your lunch back into the box, then shoving the box into your bookbag. Once you sat up, the classroom door was pushed open- as it usually was. It was right after lunch, after all. However, when you saw two familiar people step in, you began to wish that the door never opened. If only it had been locked- if only someone got distracted. If only you looked down just a bit longer. But, it was done- there was no going back, no need to go back, on such a tiny detail.

In stepped the “Princess”, the “Prince” following her- he even held the door open. It was a basic act of chivalry, yes, but the lack of it around you only made him that much more like a prince… Yes, he wasn’t kind to just you. He treated everyone with kindness, as a normal person should. That little act shouldn’t have made you feel that twinge of jealousy- of doubt- spark in your mind.

“(Y/N), were you able to enjoy lunch?” Teru asked, taking a seat next to you. At least he was still acknowledging you.

“Mmh… I’m not really hungry, haha.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, concern crossing onto his beautiful features.

“Are you feeling alright? I don’t want you to wind up hungry later…”

Of course, the concern on his face was no longer in your direction- his expression changing slightly as the unfortunately familiar girl called his name. Though she spoke to him, his eyes drifted in your direction several times.

“Teru, I was wondering if you could let me borrow your notes from second hour? The teacher was speaking so fast, ahaha~. I don’t know how you keep up, really!”

“Oh? Of course, I don’t mind. If you’d please return them when you’re done though,” Teru spoke, grabbing a notebook from his bag, then handing them to her. He’d surely let you borrow his notes too, so… she wasn’t special. Though it was a bit surprising that someone that bright couldn’t keep up with the teacher’s far-too-fast method of teaching. When you opened your mouth to make a comment you already knew you shouldn’t, the teacher entered, as if prompting you to keep your emotions in check.

The rest of the day passed nearly the same as the first half did. Teru’s attention constantly elsewhere, though he did seem to at least try to keep it on you. Hey, you were used to that much… everyone wanted his attention. You couldn’t be the one to deny them of it. Yes, it was normal. That’s what you told yourself, as you stepped into the hallway, making your way towards the student council room. Finally, you’d have a chance to be with Teru, no one out to beg for his attention. Well- Akane would be there, but- honestly, you were plainly aware of his… distaste towards your boyfriend. Really, you didn’t mind it. At least it was someone not trying to take any attention you got at school away from you.

“Yeah! With the way that girl seems to be all over him! I think they’re dating?”

“No, no, isn’t he dating (Y/N)?”

“I think he was? But, he doesn’t really seem to spend as much time with her, you know.”

You shut your locker, the sound echoing much louder than you thought you intended. The conversation ceased, as the two engaged in it glanced in your direction, one muttering some profanity under their breath. Still, you picked up your bag, not wanting to drag two strangers into your personal business. All you had to do was establish that you were the one dating Teru, right? And the first step was… making sure Teru still wanted to date. Despite how you tried to calm and reassure yourself as your legs carried you quickly to the school council room, you could feel a mix of frustration, fear, sadness, and insecurity bubbling up in your stomach. Why was he spending so much time with her? Was she better than you? Did he like her more than you? Of course, how could someone like him choose you…? If you were in his shoes, you were sure you’d pick the other girl…

Soon, you stood in front of the room. Though you reached for the doorknob confidently at first, you froze once your hand was about to rest on it. Nerves were practically eating at you, your heart racing so quickly that you felt dizzy. Heck- when was the last time you were this nervous? When was the last time your emotions ran this rampant?

Gathering your emotions as best as you could, you opened the door.

“(Y/N), good afternoon,” Teru greeted, giving you his usual, sweet smile. Did he smile at the other girl like that?

You didn’t want to lose that smile…

“Teru,” You muttered, voice cracking a bit as tears finally filled your eyes. Instantly, those smiling eyes of his were filled with concern. He was so easily concerned for you. Did he worry for her that easily?

“(Y/N)? What happened-? What’s wrong?” He questioned, standing up and rushing over towards you. Once you noticed that Akane hadn’t arrived yet, Teru reached behind you, one arm resting on your shoulder as he locked any potential intruders out. He knew you wouldn’t want anyone to bother you, if something was upsetting you enough to cry like this in front of him.

“Teru, do you still want to be with me?”

“What? (Y/N), of course-” “Be honest, Teru. If you don’t wanna, then don’t lie to me, please. I understand. I’m not as pretty as her- and I’m not as smart, I know. And she’s popular, like you. And she can talk to people easily, and she’s fit, and thin, and she’s got a pretty, normal smile… a-and I know I’m nothing like her, so I understand. She and I are complete opposites, Teru, so I’m positive she’s more your type.”

“(Y/N), calm down,” Teru spoke, both of his hands now resting on your shoulders, thumbs moving comfortingly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I assure you-”

“You’ve been skipping on things we’ve done since we became friends to spend time with her, Teru. Just today, the two of you spent time together during lunch-”

“Her? (Y/N), darling, you’re joking.”

Your eyes filled further with tears, as you shook your head in frustration. “I’m not joking, Teru!”

“(Y/N), please, sweetheart. Calm down, let me explain, alright? Here, let’s sit down?”

Teru led you to a chair, sitting you in it carefully, then crouching next to you, his hands holding both of yours.

“She’s just trying to get some extracurricular things done, relating to her education. Yes, when she needs help, which I’ll admit has been frequently lately, I told her to go to me. I wasn’t expecting her to need this much help, but I didn’t want to go back on my word. Here, if you’d like, I’ll explain to her that I’m a bit too busy to help all the time. I’ll get Akane to step in a bit, is that alright?”

You sniffled, thinking about what he said. Still, as you processed it, you nodded. Poor Akane indeed, but… you felt slightly relieved.

“Next, you know you’re more my type than anyone, (Y/N). Really, sweetie, I only show her basic human kindness. Even when she gets irritating… with you, I never feel annoyed or irritated. Plus, I can actually express how I feel around you- listen, would I admit to anyone else that I find one of our classmates annoying at times?”

“I’m sure you’d tell anyone how you felt about Akane,” You joked lightheartedly, laughing to yourself. Teru’s slight smile grew to a grin, as he closed his eyes.

“Mmm, maybe? But he’s a different story. Still, I love you, (Y/N). You’re plenty smart- and, if you don’t think so, then who cares? Your lack of confidence in yourself means I get to help you study- and you always end up doing just fine. You’re more than plenty gorgeous- I love everything about you. Your smile, your hair, your skin, your body type, anything and everything. You’re perfect, (Y/N). Perfect for the world, and absolutely perfect for me.”

This time, when you felt your eyes get watery, they weren’t tears of sadness or worry. When you hugged Teru, sniffling lightly once again, he could feel you smile against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for assuming things, Teru-”

“Ah-ah. No need to apologize, (Y/N). Really, you have no reason to apologize… you’re fine, darling.”

[animeomegas]

Omega!Light - How do his plans change? If he had a mate?

Anon:  How about light yagami as an omega? It would be interesting considering how he plans on being 'justice and creating a new world. How would he feel of having an alpha mate?

and

Anon: Could I request for an omega light. I feel like it would really be interesting and it would make sense with the story line a bit. Considering he wants justice and all in an alpha-dominated world. "Omega rules over the world type of stuff "

(Hmm, this was an interesting one to write! It was a bit of a deep dive into Light’s psyche~ I’m sick at the moment and not taking my classes so I’m bulk writing some older requests right now! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. Enjoy!)

Warnings: Mpreg, Discrimination,  Light’s general blasé attitude towards murder.

The World

Firstly, let’s look at the omegaverse world in Death Note (pre- Kira) and how it was for Light growing up as a male omega.

Light’s experiences with discrimination very much shaped his desire for justice. He felt like he was never given justice for the way he was treated and he was going to change that.

Omegaverse Japan was very prejudiced against omegas and Light felt these effects at a very young age. 

The first time was with an elderly neighbour of his. When his mother was proudly showing off his recent perfect test scores, the neighbour dismissed them with a comment about how he shouldn’t be focusing on education but on training to be a good mate and mother, and that alphas didn’t like omegas who focused outside of the family and the household. 

This was extreme, but it did reflect the biases of the older generations. 

At only six, Light was crushed, even if he kept those feelings to himself. Eventually, he vowed to show everyone who thought he couldn’t do ‘alpha things’ that he could, and not only that but he was better than any alphas at those things. 

Other examples of discrimination he faced are as follows:

Being told by his teacher that he should pick a new future career because “being a police officer is a demanding job. You’ll need to be at home for your future pups, Light kun!”

Alphas at his school never taking no for an answer when he rejects their advances (and the teacher ignoring this behaviour).

Gaining the attention of sleazy adult alphas starting from when he was only 14. 

In public, Light tried to play both a respectful genius and good omega boy. 

He would never dull his intelligence too much, but he remained soft-spoken and manipulated his way out of situations without causing a fuss. Eg. Claiming he was waiting until he finished school to court, rather than just rejecting his alphas classmates outright.

Light just found that this strategy made people leave him alone more often and therefore was his favourite. 

And then he finds the Death Note.

Kira

As an omega, Kira’s actions change ever so slightly. 

He is very harsh on hate crimes against omegas.

He goes so far as to seek them out, rather than mostly getting names from watching the news. 

This has the unfortunate side effect of L figuring out almost immediately that Kira is an omega though. Which ultimately increases suspicion on Light.

When Light finds out that L is also an omega, he can’t decide if he feels more or less angry. 

On one hand, he was imagining an arrogant asshole alpha that he would have been delighted to kill, so this is a more tolerable alternative.

On the other hand, shouldn’t L be supporting him making the world safer for omegas like them? It feels like L is betraying his kind which makes Light angrier.

In the earlier days, Kira’s focus on helping omegas and closing the discrimination gap makes him pretty popular, especially on anonymous internet forums. 

With an Alpha mate

Light met you at university. You were a tolerable classmate who expressed an interest in courting him. 

Light, although he had no interest in you, accepted the courtship to get L off his back. L had theorised that Kira was either an unmated omega, or mated and very angry/regretful about it. Considering Kira’s age, he decided it was likely the former. For this reason, he figured being in an active courtship would throw L off.

Light picked you because you were one of the more tolerable alphas, but he found himself surprised at how much he enjoyed your company. 

You actually listened to him, valued his opinions, supported his dreams. He found himself thinking that it wouldn’t be that bad to be mated to you. 

He pushed those thoughts back, following the courting motions with as little emotion as possible. 

But when he was in heat (a minimised one because he takes suppressants) he just really wanted you there with him. He was so confused and angry that he was feeling this way, but he caved in and called you over to spend time with him. 

As he laid in your embrace, he started trying to justify what he was doing. 

He liked to think he was a god, but ultimately he had the lifespan of a human. Who better to continue his legacy than his own child? For a child, he would need a mate. And you were the most tolerable alpha he had ever met. That’s the reason he was doing this.

So, he puts out feelers to see your opinion on Kira and eventually he tells you who he is. He is gleeful when he receives your support.

From this point, he throws himself into the relationship a lot more, moving on from courting to intended mates. 

He loves having someone he can be himself with. He never has to put up a mask with his alpha. 

His plan is to get pregnant after he’s established the new world order, then raise his child to take over when he’s too old. He doesn’t care what their primary or secondary gender is because he plans to make sure they are raised to be a suitable leader.

Light gritted his teeth as he persevered through his university coursework. His heat was driving him mad. He skin was itchy and he couldn’t focus properly. 

It would probably be better if you were here with him. 

No. He gripped his pen tightly. He didn’t need anyone else, certainly not an alpha. He was fine. He just needed to lay down for a bit, then he’d feel better. 

Closing his textbook, he stretched and made his way over to his bed, supressing a whine at the lack of a nest. No, he didn’t need a nest he was fine.

Okay, maybe he wasn't as fine as originally thought. It had been a few hours and he was only feeling worse. Maybe he should send you a message. Just so he could get back to work of course.

You knocked hesitantly on Light’s front door, clutching your bag tightly. Light had sent you a cryptic message and you were a little worried about him.

His mother opened the door and ushered you up to Light’s room with a smile. You thanked her politely before walking quickly to Light’s bedroom. You knocked twice before tentatively swinging open the door. You saw Light sitting up in bed, looking a little ruffled, like he’d been asleep. You took a deep breath. He was in heat... The omega you were courting had just invited you into his room while he was in heat! Your alpha puffed up in pride.

But... where was his nest? 

“Hey Light.” You spoke quietly. “How are you feeling?” You moved to sit on the edge of his bed, watching carefully for any signs of rejection. 

“Like crap.” He let out a strained laugh. “I need to get my work done, but I can’t do anything like this.”

You hesitated. “Where is your nest? You’d probably feel a lot better in there.”

“I don’t have one.” Light said shortly. 

“Oh!” You said, flustered. “That’s fine. I just thought- but that was rude, I’m sorry.”

Light rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, just drop it.”

You let out a sigh of relief, scooting closer to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Light automatically leaned onto your shoulder before realising what he was doing and starting to pull away. Before he could, you tightened your grip, releasing a calming scent as you enjoyed the physical affection. Light hesitated, but the feeling of burning itchiness was finally starting to subside and he couldn’t help but lean into the person providing the soothing sensation. 

He was only doing this so he would be feeling well enough this evening to write in the Death Note. That’s it. Nothing else. 

[cupidsintern]

shot thru the heart, pt 4

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3

-

Billy was obviously in a pretty foul mood when Steve saw him at school the next day. He didn’t throw Steve a little “hey” of a nod like he’d started doing recently. Didn’t even really look up when Steve sat down. Steve figured Billy probably noticed someone stole his notebook which may or may not have had part of a love letter in the back of it and probably wanted to murder and or never again speak to whoever did it, but then again, maybe he just thought it had been lost?

Steve pulled shit out of his backpack in silence, even as their classmates talked around them, and Steve realized that recently, he and Billy had mostly only been talking to each other. Steve would have to go back to passing full days of school in next to silence if Billy found out about the notebook, and just when things were getting good

The classroom door opened.

A girl- Ellen something? was standing in the doorway in a red pleated skirt and one of those headbands with the hearts on springs. She was holding a basket of roses and a couple teddy bears- Oh my god.

“Valentine grams-” She was explaining to the teacher. As if Steve’s day could not get worse.

The test was going to be postponed for the three excruciating minutes it would take for her to compare notes with the seating chart and one by one hand out Valentines and Steve would just have to sit there wallowing in jealousy and misery.

Steve realized too late that the girl- Ellen… crap, Ellen Studebacker? He thinks?- little headband hearts bobbing, was walking over to him.

“Hi Steve,” Ellen smiled at him, tugging a red rose from her basket and handing it to him like she had probably done a hundred times this week. But he was special, everyone knew him.

The class chattered a little more- someone whistled, someone else laughed- Steve might as well have been deaf to all of it. He wasn't expecting a Valentine gram, only managed a “uh, thanks.” to the girl before she bobbed off on her merry way, and the teacher told them all to quiet down.

Steve got a Valentine gram. He had, a lot going on in his head right now. Way more than there usually was. He stayed up to an ungodly hour last night, later than he had since… you know. But he just couldn’t sleep, he’d felt like someone coated him in slime and he kept getting up to brush his teeth or pace and try hard as he could not to give in a jerk off-

But now he has this. A little heart shaped piece of paper with glitter and lace glued to it to let him know, some girl out there still thinks about him enough to send him a cheesy valentine. What was that thing Billy had said?

Plenty of bitches in the sea.

God he sounded like such a scumbag. Come to find out the guy writes sappy love letters, Steve could almost laugh. He opened up the little Valentine, carefully sliding the rose upright into his backpack before turning back to read:

To: Steve Harrington

2nd Period Class: Room 48

From:

Last category empty, instead of a name, or a “your secret admirer,” the sender had drawn a heart, with an arrow through it. Cartoonish blood dripped off the arrow’s tip.

The swerve of the uppercase S. The line on the H. The tail on the G.

And that stupid shot-through heart.

Steve’s own heart rate reached a yet-to-be-possible BPM he’d know that stupid perfect handwriting anywhere. It was Billy’s handwriting.

Billy sent this.

For a full couple of seconds, Steve drew a complete blank. Nothing happened, he didn’t blink, didn’t move, his heart didn’t beat, he wasn't even sure he breathed.

Then a million different thoughts came crashing down around his ears- almost made him flinch.

Oh my god Billy sent this. To him.

Was this for real? Was this some kind of sick fucked-up-Billy joke? He was just doing it to fuck with Steve’s head- but no. Then he probably would have signed it. Or written some random girl’s name. Not- not drawn a heart. Like the ones he drew in the margins of his notes,

And if Billy was… you know. That would actually make a lot of sense as to why he was such a fucking douchebag.

But what if he wasn't! God but what if he was.

Did he know about Steve?

But god, there wasn't anything to know was there. Steve didn’t- he had never-

Shit, they had a test in class right now, and Steve was sitting with an arrow through his chest and little fucking cartoon hearts around his head.

-

It was just like the universe to make Billy’s main notebook go missing the day before a big fucking test. It was even more like it to set him up to be running on no hours of sleep and sit down in second period to find those stupid fucking Valentine grams being handed out.

In the split seconds before Steve’s name got called, Billy sort of hoped the gram he bought had been lost. They were pretty anonymous to buy, that’s what he’d said to himself when he filled one out, folded it up more times than necessary and jammed it in the little heart shaped box. But now, faced with the consequences of his moment of weakness, he could not be filled with more regret.

Harrington just sat there too, looking dumbstruck turning the Valentine over and over before the test started. Like he wasn’t a bombshell on the worst of hair days- he didn’t even have bad hair days.

Billy was determined to not look, not stare at the back of Steve’s head like he had every other day this year. But for the split second he looked up, Steve was turned ever so slightly to the side, his perfect nose and perfect forelock illuminated by the sunshine pouring in from dusty classroom windows. He was smelling the rose.

Billy left class as quick as he could, the test was pretty easy, but no doubt Harrington would still be in there struggling for at least ten minutes, which gave Billy more than enough time to cool his nerves before steve inevitably cae to find him at lunch like he’d done for the past couple days, just to say hi.

But he didn’t see Steve at lunch. Probably should be a relief, but Billy couldn’t help but feel his heart sinking a little. And then kicking himself for caring at all when really he shouldn't. This was nothing, just like all the other times.

Billy went to switch textbooks at his locker, more of a nerd move than he would usually allow himself but he wanted to at the very least have an okay school day.

But when he went to open his backpack, there was his notebook. He did a double take. He could have sworn the thing was missing. He had dumped his backpack out and turned it inside out on his bedroom floor, got pencil shavings all over the place in the process, and it wasn't there.

But now here it was. Billy opened it.

A note fell out.

“I took your notebook- sorry. Here’s it and the notes back. Probably be easier to study together sometime anyway. If you’re still down.

Thanks for the rose.”

Billy probably had six separate heart attacks in the span of the couple seconds it took to read the note over again. Then he laughed out loud, in the heart-splattered hallway right in front of his locker, didn't care if anyone looked at him weird.

“Thanks for the rose.”

-

this was gonna be the last part but honestly i might write one more just cause i want them to kiss. lmk what u think lads :3

[aimfor-theheart]

wc: ~1.3k words

f!reader, getou suguru x reader, gojo satoru x reader if you squint

warnings: 18+ minors dni, spoilers i guess? just in case. angst, mentions of gore, death, light smut, light corruption kink

a/n: this has been itching at my skull for a bit so here!! this probs isn't canon accurate in terms of timeline but ssshhh. dw about it. enjoy!!

tonight i am thinking about getou luring you to his side after you graduate from jujutsu tech.

you're as fresh faced as a sorcerer whose survived school can be, brimming with promise and potential, burning so bright, so fiery and hot. you're powerful, only a few years younger than him.

it had been gojo that had taken you under his wing while you were in school, though, not quite old enough to be a teacher yet but so eager to be a leader. you were certainly his favorite from your class (never mind that beside you, there was only one other sorcerer left by the end). still, you're his little shooting star. a little treasure that he's found and ready to show off to the rest of the jujutsu world.

more than that, others from his age group like you a great deal, too. your remaining classmate had always been jealous of you, getting all their attention. hell, nearly doting on you. utahime coos over you, keeps gojo away. shoko offers you a drag of her cigarette and laughs as you splutter and cough the first time you ever try. mei mei toys with you, like a leisurely cat amused with an overly brave mouse.

nanami is protective of you. when the others try to send you head first into danger, it's him who makes sure you land on your feet.

by the time you graduate, you're their perfect little witch. the baby of their group, eager to prove yourself. you're fiercely excitable in a way that makes you seem so innocent for a sorcerer. even excited for the blood of it all, the copper caught between your teeth. eager for the gore and sickly sweet rush.

gojo pretends to get teary eyed at your graduation.

all grown up, he tells you, pinching your cheek until you're laughing and trying to swat him away. you're glowing, though, looking up at him like he holds the secret of the universe in the curl of his smile.

they all know how you look at him. nanami especially, who snaps at gojo when he encourages you to be a little too reckless. nanami knows you'd do whatever gojo asks of you.

(and maybe nanami doesn't even know the half of it; you're eager for more than just gojo's attention, but a touch from the untouchable, the crescent moon sliver of his smirk against your skin. maybe nanami does know. maybe that's why he gets so frustrated with gojo.)

it's why getou is so intrigued by you. they think you're the future; something brilliant and beautiful amidst all the grime and muck. and boy, does gojo sure seem to like you.

getou plays his cards carefully. he catches you alone on your missions, the tail end of them, when you're exhausted but still standing. he doesn't fight you. he just talks, looks for pressure points. and then he gets lucky and happens upon you, drenched in blood and gore, fighting for your life. he's reminded of those poor sea birds that get caught up in oil spills, your wings slicked down with thick crimson, the desperate flailing of you.

it makes him furious, to see someone so powerful and viciously good, so strangely innocent, on the brink of death. how would gojo feel now? watching his favorite little star all dim, in the blood and filth with the worst of the world. where is he now? when you're on the brink of death?

that's okay, getou's here– i'm here for you now, he murmrus. and he pulls you into his arms, cradles you, gore and all, into his chest, like you're a newborn. he brings you back from the brink.

you stay with him for three days, until you're healed enough to walk out on your own two feet. but while laying in agony, he speaks with you, he tells you how horrible it is, to almost see such a life as yours wasted. he treats you like you're precious, something to be coveted. his fingers are lithe and cool when they brush your hair from your face.

his voice is so low and soothing, a balm to a wound you hadn't even known you'd had.

he plants a seed; why are they sending you out to slaughter on your own? how many classmates did you lose? four? jeeze, that was a big class. how terrible. do you miss them? of course you do, you poor thing.

he even lets you walk out and right back to gojo.

but it isn't the same, is it? watching all those poor young sorcerers die, when someone more powerful could've saved them. and what about you? when you needed saving? who was there?

you're only visiting shoko, nanami trailing beside you, when a first year is wheeled in on a cold slab. pale. dead. and you've seen death before but– it's horrible like this. you think of your classmates. you think of yourself.

getou's voice, cool like water when you need it most, trickles into your mind to both soothe and strengthen you.

(nanami watches you carefully, feels as if he has deja vu, like he's looking into the past, and there's a different sorcerer peering down at a different young body. so many bodies. nanami can see it now, too. it's tiring. it's infuriating.)

the change in you is so gradual it's almost hard to spot. and then all it takes is getou extending his hand to you.

palm up. offering.

eve's apple. an unanswered question. the need to know, to have.

and you take it.

he is solid in your touch, the scars of his hands pressed to yours like broken pieces finding their home in a mosaic.

he isn't untouchable.

no, not at all.

he is solid beneath your seeking fingers. he is gentle and coaxing when he lays you down. getou touches you in a way that makes you blossom, slow and easy. so giving. when you gasp, he repeats the swipe of his thumb over your nipple. when you mewl against his cheek, he rewards you with the slow rocking of his hips into yours. he builds you up sweetly, let's you get overeager, gives in to your pleas.

how could he deny you? precious thing that you are.

he even fits his hands to yours, fingers slotting against your own as he pushes inside the deepest part of you in one shove of his hips. it isn't your first time, but it feels like it could be, with how sensitive you are, with the whimper that bursts free from you.

getou is heavy inside of you, stretching to the point that tears prick your eyes. he coos at that, voice molten and murmuring in your ear.

it's all so deep, so hot and slick that you have to hide in his throat when he rolls his hips in a way that nearly makes you cross eyed.

he doesn't kiss you (and won't let you kiss him–untouchable, untouchable, untouchable–), but lets his lips hover over yours, warm and tempting.

"oh, this is what you've always wanted, isn't it?" he purrs, "so desperate for it–eager to be cared for. poor thing. i'll care for you–ah–yes, you're mine now."

you keen all high and eager, lips parting, “yes—yes, please—oh—please!”

it’s music to getou’s ears, hearing your pretty pleas for him. his hips snap a little harder, his fingers pressing harder into your plush thighs as he tries to haul you closer.

he tries to make you need him. tries to mold you to him.

you’re sugar soft and inexperienced enough that you bend to getou’s will like a flower to the sun. it’s clear you just needed some guidance, someone to care for you, to treat you like the little treasure you are.

the next time you see gojo, it is by getou’s side. getou’s smile is an axe blades curve. you are changed in a brutal and extraordinary way.

you’ve grown into yourself, beneath getou, as a curse user.

more powerful than you’ve ever been before. gojo’s little star completely stolen from his infinite sky.

all grown up, gojo thinks to himself as he gazes at you, keeping back the stubborn lump in his throat.

you fit perfectly to the shadow of getou’s side.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 57: Text Message

As part of the Muggle Studies class, all of the 8th years received cell phones.

Draco didn't really understand all that much about it (and he hadn’t been listening especially carefully when their teacher had talked about it), but it did come with a little snake game that you steered the snake around to help it eat apples and avoid running into itself.

One of their assignments had also been to put in their peer's names in the phones with what seemed to be random coordinates. He wasn't entirely sure how that works either, if it was meant to transport you some how or something else entirely. He'd overheard Granger say something about it allowing you to essentially firecall someone, but he wasn't sure how that worked either.

He was sitting in the common room late one night (he didn't sleep well) playing around with his phone when he found a little button beside each of his classmates' names that opened up a little box that he could put words into.

It was like a little filing system for letters that Pansy would never be able to snoop through! Perfect.

Grinning, and thinking how cathartic it would be to get the words out of his head without the risk of anyone ever seeing them, he clicked on the bubble next to Potter's name and started typing.

Dear Potter, I know that you won't read this, which is why I feel like I can write it. I've wanted to say thank you for quite some time but haven't been able to work up the nerve. Thank you for saving my life, thank you for killing Voldemort, thank you for keeping me out of prison. I'm grateful, truly. And I know it's none of my business and it's not my place, but you've always gotten under my skin where you don't belong and I can't help it. You always look sad. You are always withdrawn and distant, even from your friends. It bothers me. Are you okay? I know that none of us are okay, but you know what I mean. Anyway, like I said, you won't read this but it makes me feel better to write it down. Best, Draco Malfoy

He tapped the little arrow button that would, he assumed, put it into the top part so he'd have it for later.

With that off his chest, he went back to playing his snake game until his mobile buzzed and pinged, startling him so bad that he dropped it.

Malfoy, you know i can read that, right?

Draco stared at the screen where a little box had popped up under his, uncomprehendingly.

Who is this? If this phone is even a horocrux, I'm done. Get away from me.

it's Harry. Harry Potter.

Came the reply and Draco thought for a moment that he was about to pass out.

don't freak out

Too late for that, certainly, he thought hysterically.

it's okay. this was nice, actually.

What was?

getting your text message.

What's a "text message"?

this. what we're doing right now. we're sending text messages.

But how?

that was the point of putting everyone's numbers in your phone. that way we can call and text each other.

Interesting. You must get a lot of texts since everyone has your number. How have you managed to make time for little old me?

not really, actually. no one really texts me or talks to me for that matter. killing a person makes you unapproachable, apparently.

I find this hard to believe.

you can believe what you want. but it's true. you said so yourself.

So... are you okay?

He found himself asking, afraid of the answer but Potter hadn't hexed him yet. He wondered if it was possible to hex someone via text message.

none of us are. not really. but no. no i'm not.

Of all people, it seems you should be allowed to be not okay.

i literally laughed out loud. startled my poor owl out of her sleep. of all people, i am the least likely to be allowed to not be okay. no one wants to know me. they just want me to be who they think i am.

Well, if it makes you feel better people feel that way about me, too.

i know. but i don't feel that way. i wouldn't have testified for you at your trial if i did.

I ought to say thank you for that.

you already did.

Well, I ought to say it now that I know you can hear it. or read it, rather.

your welcome you're*** i'm not an idiot, i promise

Well, I wouldn't go that far.

ha. ha.

I mean, your master plan for defeating one of the most powerful wizards of all time was to use a disarming spell.

well it worked, didn't it? i've successfully murdered someone by the age of 18. wouldn't my parents be proud?

He stared at the text for a moment, processing, trying to understand what that was supposed to mean. Did Harry feel guilty?

It bothers you. That you killed him.

don't pretend it wouldn't bother you.

Potter, I would have strangled him with my bare hands if I'd thought it would have worked. I won't pretend to understand what you're going through but self defense and saving who knows how many lives, ought to give you a little peace.

There wasn't an answer for a long moment and Draco worried he'd overstepped. He sat there, tapping his forefingers against the mobile, waiting.

it gets hard to see the big picture sometimes. like rationally, i understand what you're saying but...

It's harder when you're the one who has to live with the consequences.

yes

I don't sleep well.

neither do i which is probably obvious since I'm texting you at 2:00am

He typed and erased the starts of sentences repeatedly. 'would you like to come and not sleep well tog-' 'I'm in the common room-' 'do you want to actually talk in per-'.

I'm at the astronomy tower.

I'm in the common room. Some of us can't afford to get caught where we don't belong.

it sounds silly but do you want to sit together? just it might be nice not to be alone ?

Come back to the common room.

He sent before he could change his mind. Then he began to slowly panic; what was he thinking?

A few minutes later, the portrait that guarded the 8th year common room opened and Harry came in, looking a bit windblown. "Uh," Harry said inelegantly. "Hi."

"Hello," Draco replied carefully.

Harry stared at him for a long moment before taking a few steps closer. "Can I sit?"

"Please," Draco replied, gesturing to the couch beside him.

Harry sat and pulled his legs up to his chest. "I don't really want to talk."

"Okay," Draco affirmed.

Harry glanced over at him, "Does quiet bother you?"

He gave him a little smile and shook his head, "Maybe we would just be quiet together."

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Me too."

And that was the first of many nights sitting together quietly, and the first of many hard conversations had via text message.

-------

Day 56: Phone call | Day 58: Voicemail

[touyasdoll]

Dumb Luck

From anon: Hi, I've had a shitty few days with terrible luck and I hoping a request for you could make things better. Just a simple Shoto x reader story where the reader regards Shoto as her/their lucky charm, because he makes them feel less cursed and actually valuable. (I'm really venting here, but I hope this gets your inspiration flowing, it doesn't have to be very long.)

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: I’m so sorry that it took so long to get to, but I hope you enjoy and I hope things are going well for you, anon 🖤

———————————

“All right, class, we have a new student. I trust that you will all make her feel welcome.”

Your new home room teacher was addressing the entirety of Class 1A, but he kept his intimidating gaze squarely fixed on a shorter looking boy with purple balls atop his head, who was clearly squirming under Aizawa’s stare.

Making a mental note to avoid whoever that boy was, you scanned the room to peer out at the faces of your new classmates. They all looked nice, save for one blonde boy who’s face seemed to be permanently transfixed in a scowl.

Maybe you should avoid him too? And that’s when you saw the most handsome face you had ever laid eyes on for the very first time. His hair was two-toned, red and white. His eyes were also heterochromatic and one was framed with a large scar, but both seemed to gleam as he offered a gentle smile toward you.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself and then feel free to take your seat at the back of the class next to Todoroki."

That’s when you noticed the empty seat next to him. You cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush that was creeping across your cheeks.

"Hi, my name is Y/n. I'm looking forward to getting to know you all."

You smiled as you took in some more of your new classmates faces, feeling reassured by the bright smile on the face of a green haired boy who just might have been an actual cinnamon roll in disguise.

"What's your quirk?"

Your attention was called to a girl with horns and pink skin, who also offered a reaffirming smile in your direction.

"Oh, uhm, I have a telekinesis quirk."

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you shifted on your feet as you were about to take a step toward your assigned seat when another male student with bright red hair called out.

"What? That's so manly! I mean--not that you're--that's not what i meant, you're really pretty actually I--," he scratched at the back of his neck, his face flushing the same shade as his crimson hair. "I mean can we see your quirk? If that's okay with you?"

Aizawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a seat at his desk, shaking his head at the awkward exchange that he would rather just not acknowledge.

You laughed it off and blushed in response to the red head's compliment.

"Uh, yeah, if that's okay?"

Looking over at your teacher, he exhaled and nodded, his stoic expression returning to his persistently tired features.

"Oh, and uh pick a number between 1 and 10,000"

Setting your bag down, you nodded toward the boy and watched him bare his sharp teeth as he momentarily paused to think and then nodded in response to your request.

"Okay, I got it."

Maintaining eye contact with him, you focused on his thoughts while activating your quirk to lift his backpack off of his seat, guiding it toward the front of the room with your hands, before returning it to it's rightful place.

"Whoa! That's so cool!"

He grinned in awe as he watched his backpack settle behind him once again.

"Y/n?" The green haired boy had his hand up, looking perplexed, but also so polite as he waited for your attention. "Why did you have him pick a number?"

You smiled as you physically picked up your bag, slinging it back over your shoulder.

"Oh, because there's kinda two parts to my quirk, but actually, could you pick a number? I don't know if I wanna repeat the one he picked."

You watched the red head blush as he shrunk back in his desk, before glancing back at Todoroki, who eyes were still intent on your frame.

"You can tell Todoroki for confirmation, so you know I'm not faking."

He perked up a bit at the sound of you saying his name, the corners of his lips turning up in a shy smile before he leaned over, so that the boy could whisper his number in his ear.

"Got it?"

You smiled at Todoroki, his small smile making your stomach do flips before you found the will to look away from him and back and the other boy.

After a moment of concentration, you announced your guess.

"4,389. Right?"

His green eyes went wide and an excited smile broke across his freckled cheeks.

"Whoa, are you psychic? Telekinesis AND telepathy? That's so awesome! Oh my gosh, can I ask you some questions after class, so I can write some not--

You nodded, blushing a bit at his enthusiasm. You've always enjoyed your quirk, but no one had ever reacted quite as energetically to it and the rest of the class seemed almost as amazed as him.

"Wait, what was Kirishima's number?"

The perpetually angry looking blonde boy's face twisted in curiosity as you moved to take your seat.

"It was uh, six thousand, nine hundred sixty-nine. Right?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper as your quickly scurried toward your desk, not missing the deep shade of red Kirishima had turned before the blonde boy smacked his arm with the back of his hand.

"Is there some significance to that number?"

Todoroki's gaze followed you as you took your seat beside him, ignoring the laughter that had erupted throughout the classroom, much to Aizawa's chagrin.

"Oh, uh, yeah it's uh--I don't quite know how to explain it though. Uhm," fidgeting in your seat, you slung your bag over your chair before turning somewhat sideways, angling yourself in your seat to face him, keeping your voice low. "Do you not know why the number 69 is significant?"

His expression seemed to only grow more puzzled as he cocked his head further to one side.

"No. I can understand why 6,969 would be significant, seeing as it's 69 repeated, but I don't see why that number i--"

A boy with yellow hair, striped in the front with a bit of black leaned over, interrupting Todoroki's query.

Suddenly, his eyes grew a bit wider and he nodded slightly, the faintest hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Oh, I see. Okay. I can see why that would be funny.”

His smile was small and somewhat reserved, but it was adorable and the sight of it made you giggle.

"Yeah, that's why I didn't wanna go with his number. Didn't want anyone to think that I was a perv or playing a gross joke or something. I'm not trying to start off on the wrong foot here."

He cocked his head slightly to the side again, turning somewhat in his desk the way you had to better face you.

"Well, I think you have made a good first impression. I like you."

Your cheeks may as well have gone up in flames, you could tell they were beet red.

"Oh, uhm, thank you, Todoroki."

Clearing your throat again, you hoped the excess color would drain from your cheeks in the time you took to stare at the floor beneath your desk.

"You can call me Shoto."

His hand awkwardly extended toward you after a brief pause, flashing in front of the view you had of your feet beneath your desk.

You reached out and shook it carefully, feeling an icy coolness in your palms that you were grateful for as you felt your hands clam up.

"It's really nice to meet you, Shoto. You're uhm, you're so much nicer than anyone I ever interacted with at my last school, so uh, thank you for that."

His brow furrowed in confusion as you both retracted your hands.

"What do you mean? They weren't nice to you? Why?"

You shrugged shifting your weight to rest your elbow on the desk, accidentally knocking your unprotected cell phone straight off the desk, which mercifully landed on top of Shoto's bag, which had fallen to the floor, no doubt saving your phone from what would have been a thoroughly cracked screen.

"Oh--! Oh, wow, I thought that was going to end up broken for sure. That would have been my just my luck."

"Maybe your luck is changing. I hope your experience here at UA is different than it was at your previous school. I'll do my best to make your time here more positive."

His smile was somewhat sheepish, but genuine and for the first time in a long time, you felt comfortable around your peers. Maybe transferring schools was a good idea after all.

//Two Weeks Later//

"Dang it!" You huffed as your hurriedly threw your books into your backpack, scrambling to get up from the desk in the library.

Shoto calmly looked up at you in your frenzied state and stood, beginning to pack up his things as well.

"Where are we going?"

Throwing your bag over your shoulders, you nabbed the last of your books off the desk and made a move to start toward the door, but stopped when you realized Shoto was getting up to follow you.

"I completely lost track of time. I have to catch the last bus to go and pick something up downtown and I think I'm about to miss it."

He nodded and stepped toward you, following you out the library doors.

"Sometimes the buses run a little late. Maybe if you're lucky, it won't have come yet."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his suggestion.

"Yeah, sure. Look, I will give you fair warning now; I'm one of the unluckiest people in the planet. The odds are super slim of even something small going wrong? My luck dictates that absolutely EVERYTHING will go wrong. At this point, I'm nearly convinced that a witch cursed me as a baby or something."

He shrugged, coming to a halt at the curb as a bus slowly began to pull up.

"I told you."

Your mouth gaped slightly as you shook your head.

"Okay, wow, well I'm glad you were right about the buses running late."

"I meant about what I said about your luck changing. I hope you've been having a better time here than at your last school. You deserve to, Y/n."

He stepped back and gestured for you to enter the bus ahead of him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, uhm, I--uh, I hope so."

You climbed up the steps and nearly tripped up the small flight of stairs, but his strong hands steadied your hips from behind before anyone could notice your falter, keeping you from making a fool out of yourself in front of a nearly packed bus.

"Thank you, Shoto."

You scurried toward the first set of open seats that you could find, letting your hair dangle in your face to try and conceal the heat on your face.

"Sorry, I, uh--," Shoto took a seat beside you, actively trying not to let his muscular thigh brush against yours, which was virtually impossible on a crowded bus, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with the way I touched you, I--I just didn't--didn't want you to fall or anything."

Feeling a bit more brave in sensing how nervous he was over the interaction, you relaxed and let the arm and leg that were already pressed up against him in the tight quarters press against him a little more intentionally.

"It's okay, I appreciate you not letting me make an absolute fool of myself. Seems like you're always around to help me in that regard."

Giggling, you began searching for the nerve to look up and make eye contact with him.

Hearing him mumble something, you decided to dig deep and look up at him with a curious smile.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

His left side was giving off more heat than usual as you noticed he was blushing too, scratching the back of his neck nervously with his right hand.

"Dumb luck, I guess. That I'm always around when you need it. I'm glad I can be, I hope I can, uh, continue to be. If you, i-if you would let me be around you more often lik--"

He was rambling, clearly nervous, and it was an adorable sight to see. Further emboldened by his demeanor, you shifted your weight to lean against him, brushing the back of his hand with yours.

"Are you trying to ask me out, Shoto?"

His expression went blank as he nodded, save for the adorable flush on his cheeks.

"I am. Did I do it right? Or---wait, did you read my mind?"

You shook your head as your giggled, knitting your fingers together with his.

"No, I didn't need to."

He smiled, shifting his weight to lean against you as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"How did you know then?"

You shrugged playfully before resting your head against his shoulder.

"Dumb luck."

[austajunk]

Please PLEASE go into detail about how protective he is over Chiaki!! I literally am begging to finally hear someone else actually acknowledge their friendship/relationship especially after having to deal with a pretty toxic anti-bi/pan Nagito rper I was on a server with for a good part of a year! (Sorry went kinda ranty but hopefully my anguish is understandable!)

Oh my lord, you’re giving me a chance to shine with my fixations?! I can’t thank you enough! Now, please understand that this is based on my perception of the series as I’ve played through the second game twice. I’m pretty good when it comes to being the person who has unpopular opinions and ships and I know claiming that Nagito is bi/pan/Demi is probably one of them. But honestly, it comes from the desire to see this boy get as much love as possible. Because he sure needs it.

Ultimately, Nagito’s sexuality is never canonly specified, so I think whether gay, bisexual, Pansexual, or what have you, we’re all well within our rights to just have fun and see what we want to in a really flawed and relatable character. And that’s what makes it interesting.

That being said, let’s talk about Nagito and Chiaki. Friendship or romantic, I don’t think you can deny that Chiaki is at least special to Nagito in some way.

Upon replaying the second game, I’ve realized how protective Nagito actually is towards Chiaki interestingly enough.

In chapter 2, she leaves to go question Fuyuhiko but Nagito stops her and tells her not to let Fuyuhiko get rough with her. Every time Chiaki’s skills help them advance, he deeply praises her. Even after he’s stopped praising all the others (which he does mostly after Chapter one, hinting he does not like some of them as actual people). But for some reason, especially during the trials, Nagito is quick to jump in and mention how wonderful Chiaki is and compliment her (only to be usually cut off by someone when he starts to ramble).

It should also be noted that Chiaki and Nagito both share an appreciation for games. Nagito seems to like more luck-based games for obvious reasons, but he also mentions that like Chiaki, he likes the Twilight Syndrome series. Both of them similarly state that they felt Monokuma was butchering a favorite game of theirs.

They also both have an odd way of trying to cheer Hajime up and joke with him, the examples shown coincidentally beside one another. Chiaki says she’s gonna look for a dirty book, throwing Hajime off and Nagito “jokingly” tells Hajime to lick his boots and now to him, but Hajime is extremely put off when he claims it was a joke. These oddballs get each other in the weirdest of ways is what I’m saying. They’re both incredibly antisocial, but their hearts are reaching the same place too when they try to make an effort.

In chapter 4, when Chiaki teams up with Nagito and Kazuichi, then leaves because they’re both being clingy, Nagito quickly follows and chases after her to make sure she’s okay. Then he chastised her for running off, looking deeply concerned. Even after his attitude change, he will answer her more directly and not ignore her. When she tells him to be quiet, he politely obeys... or maybe it’s because he’s deep in thought about her motives as he mentions he was watching the trial carefully to decide on who the traitor is.

I may just be mentioning this because they’re my OTP, but if you know about their school time together and pay attention to Nagito’s Hope versus Chiaki’s Hope, I think it’s fascinating.

Okay, now let’s head into Danganronpa 3 territory. Now this is the part where I am the most shaky as I’m still trying to determine what I take canon from this series. The thing is, a friend who got me into the series informed me that the production was way rushed and that Kodaka never wanted to do the anime in the first place. But! That being said, Chiaki and Nagito have some great moments in this and the anthology comics along with it, so let’s get into some stuff.

First of all, Nagito warmly mentions that Chiaki being their class rep makes her the true Hope of their class. And you can tell he’s serious because as he’s saying it, he’s doing that thing where he’s staring at his hand desperately like he wants eat it. You know the look.

Moving on, it’s clear that aside from Chisa, Chiaki is the only one to value and treasure Nagito. And this makes sense. In her own dying words, she loves her classmates. They are the world to her. All of them. And of course, she loves Nagito too with all her heart. As evidenced as she cradled him protectively in her arms while he’s injured. At first when Chiaki and the others are determined to stand up to Junko and get their teacher back, Nagito pleads with Chiaki not to. That his luck could not overcome them. He knows they can’t win in this situation and I do think he was actually trying to talk Chiaki out of it. But of course, when Chiaki pushes back and says she wants to go anyways, he literally can’t help himself when it comes to wanting to see Hope shine. So he agrees and praises her again because of course he does.

Until it all leads to the Pain Train with Despair coming out on top. Chiaki is brutally slaughtered and we see something new from Nagito. He breaks down crying. Tears are streaming madly down his face as a forced and twisted smile appears on his lips. He even beseeches Chiaki’s name. “You understand right? You know you’re a stepping stone for Hope!” “What has been done to Nanami is unforgivable...” Nagito’s already trying to cope. To rationalize something horrible that he just witnessed in his mind. He’s trying to protect himself as he’s utterly being destroyed and breaking down like all of his classmates. Chiaki’s death literally shatters his mind. It’s a pretty well done scene even if I’m not a big fan of the brainwashing stuff. Not to mention, the way he says “You understand right, Nanami?” As if he’s begging for her forgiveness as he falls apart. It’s so very very tragic. And of course, when being made apart of the Neo World Program, his desire to see Chiaki once more, just one more time like his classmates, brings her back to him(and the other classmates) in AI form.

Honestly... it’s pretty beautiful. Chiaki is apart of Nagito in some way and is imprinted into his mind and heart. He longed to see her as much as everyone else. This person, who doesn’t seek out relationships because his luck either gets them killed or he finds their Hope to be too weak, has a connection with Chiaki like that. This is literally a person who believes his life is just a stepping stone for better and more worthy people, someone who knows their existence is a formality at this point. And still, he does have connections. There are people capable of caring about him and loving him and Chiaki was one of those people. And he wanted to see her again in the Neo World Program. Like Chiaki said, it’s no less than miracle.

But alas, this is getting rather long, isn’t it? Well in the D3 anthology, Nagito also is concerned when Chiaki avoids eating because of her hyperfixation on gaming. Chiaki skipping out on self care?! Not cool, Chiaki. And so he challenges her to a game to make sure she’ll eat lunch. Fucking protective as hell. And yes yes, the anthology isn’t canon... but that’s the thing about Danganronpa. The series is over. Any additional info and stuff added to it is meant to enrich the experience for the fandom, so it’s canon to me. What’s the fandom gonna do? Whine at me and tell me it isn’t? That Nagito wouldn’t do these things when official anthologies and content that’s sold for Danganronpa tells me he would? So... yeah.

Ultimately, whether you ship them or not, I think this fandom is missing out on the Komanami side of things and how good their relationship is when you really observe it. :3