#sap classes students

[nope-body]

.

[mistytanzanite]

Would love to see hcs about dating Toby in an AU where he’s a university student or something!

Dating Toby in college!

p.s. this is a MDNI account! So if any minors are reading this, please don't! :(

small warning for a sentence with a mention of sex

I’m gonna yap a bit about the backstory before I get into dating him.

So with a college AU, it would most likely be some sort of AU where he never killed his dad. Instead, Toby ran away the second he graduated high school, desperate to get away from Denver.

Since he’s from Colorado, he probably goes as far as possible from it, probably going northeast. Let’s say Massachusetts, since it’s high in education ranking. I can see him majoring in social work, so he can get a job with CPS, wanting to help kids get out of abusive homes.

He works part time as well to pay off student loans, although he doesn’t get many hours since his boss is a dick who sees his tics as a hindrance. 

You meet Toby in class one day, two loners who need a partner for a project. Toby is distant at first, having trust issues due to bullying. You’re patient with him, not saying anything bad about his tics, and just focus on the project.

That gives him a good first impression of you, since a lot of people are annoyed, disgusted, or make fun of him for his tourettes. But you don’t give a shit, and he feels…normal.

The two of you exchange numbers and at first, only talk about the project as you both work on it. Then, near the end of it, you make a casual comment about a movie you wanted to see soon. Toby says he also wanted to see it, so you surprise him by buying two tickets, giving him one.

The movie is nice. He’s nervous, never having hung out with someone before. Afterward, the two of you talk about it. He sees you imitating some of the fight scenes, and laughs.

The two of you form a friendship after that. You whisper to each other in class. You eat outside together. Slowly, he opens up to you about his past. You share your own struggles. 

He develops a crush on you sometime in the second semester of knowing you. He gets highly embarrassed, beating himself up for falling for you when you had only been friendly to him. He starts to avoid you, guilty for having a crush. 

“Hey Toby, what’s-”

 “SORRYGOTTAGOBYE”

 “Wait, what?”

It isn’t until you damn near corner him after a month of this that he goes beet red and stumbles over his words that he likes you. He keeps apologizing as you walk up to him, and then interrupt him with a kiss to the cheek.

His brain stops functioning after that. You sigh, and tell him it was obvious, but you wanted to be nice and let him figure his own shit out.

He buries his face in his hands, so ashamed of himself. 

You start dating after that. Toby is shy at first, with you being his first romantic partner. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, at all. He’s trying his best lol.

He has a big ol’ smile on his face when you hold his hand as you both walk to class. It makes the rest of his day feel more bearable. Got a little pep in his step.

Despite his shyness, he tries to initiate. He initiates the first kiss. Asking you on an actual date. Having sex in his dorm while his roommate is at a party. 

Toby is the kind of boyfriend that doubles as your best friend. Gets invested in whatever drama you tell him about. Likes to talk shit about annoying classmates with you. 

He jots down his plans for the future with you, deciding on where to live with you, where you both can get jobs with your degrees, what kind of house you’ll be getting, what the wedding would be like…he’s a sap lol.

All in all, college! Toby would be a really good boyfriend, you just need to be patient with him.

[natewriteslol]

Rumors: pt.1

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Vil and you have had a semi one sided rivalry as soon as your time at NRC began. However, the feud soon has to be put aside to stop an anonymous gossip blog attempting to ruin yours and possibly other students’ reputation. Will you and Vil be able to find whoever is behind this? Or will you be a fallen victim to those who call themselves, ‘The Catacombs?’ 

Part Two Here!

══════════════════════════════

Ever since your explosive introduction at Night Raven, you always had the tendency to stick out like a sore thumb, captivating everyone with minimal effort. You didn’t belong here amongst wizards, beastmen,merfolk and royals, yet you managed to fit right in.

 I think that was what really pissed him off, especially since he had worked so hard in order to accomplish what you do, impressing others and having eyes on him. However Vil had quickly got over it, his success wasn’t measured by popularity and validation from others, and he shouldn’t worry about a measly nobody that could never hold a candle to him. Instead, the dorm leader focused on keeping peace within his life, enjoying the routine and tranquility. 

Which just wasn’t your thing.

You were clumsy, loud and did things your own way with no regard for how others felt. He did give you credit for you having the confidence to be yourself and being extremely empathetic to those who needed it. 

Maybe the tipping point was you seeing him in his most vulnerable state, watching him overblot and lose control in envy against one of the people he hated the most. You were there to solve the issue and stop him alongside your friends. And worst of all he heard you point it out to them, believing that no one could hear your whispers. 

But he heard every word. 

‘He completely lost it over Neige, I’m glad we got it under control,’ he heard you say quietly to Ace and Deuce. 

Later on, you decided to offer him a juicebox as he sat on the empty auditorium stage…

Apple flavored.

Which he swears on his unique magic  that you did that on purpose to spite him, a sick joke that only made his distaste for you stronger. It felt like you knew exactly what to do at every moment to make him lose it, like yelling “on accident” when he needs to master a potion formula, saying something crude in the lunch room, the way it seems everyone is obsessed with you.

 And of course it was extremely shocking to Rook when his dorm leader had begun re-explaining his disdain for the new kid at school. Despite laying back on the dark purple bedding that would make anyone relax and the sunset pink lighting from the lamp, Vil was far from calm. He had to recount the latest anger-inducing incident to his friend during their “sleepovers” on a Friday night, being wary of his not yet fully dried mauve nail polish as he talked with his hands. 

It was this day that really made him angry, his last straw as some would say. He held his pen as he wrote notes busily into his notebook, heavily invested in order to pass the upcoming exam. It was wonderful, as the class was quiet just as he liked it, allowing him to fully concentrate and absorb the contents of the slide show created by Professor Crewel. 

However, it was easy to hear a decrepit wooden door close in the pin-drop silent classroom. As the black and white man’s back was turned to the class, reading out the text of the slides to the class, you, Y/N L/N thought you could be slick enough to be unscathed by Crewel’s wrath

You being late was more set in stone than the heat within the land of the Scalding Sands it seems. Your satchel was barely slung on your shoulder with your weird, round cat creature barely catching up behind, and it was just Vil’s luck that he had to be the poor sap that had the only seat that was available amongst the many wooden tables. Crewel began scolding you as you fumbled in your seat, and whilst onlookers found it hilarious they wouldn’t dare look or let out a snicker at the scene. Your nervousness  made you fumble your belongings in your bag as you attempted to get out your pen and notebook, your arm would touch his. 

Making him neglect his usual manners and his side-eye of judgment fell upon you. Of course you didn’t notice as he began to study your features, the look of panic flooding your face. Although, this moment of looking at you ended up being a grave mistake.

“Mr. Schoenheit, if there is a huge problem with L/N being late to the point where your eyes can’t be bothered to take notes on the slides vital for your final then you will be delighted to join us in a discussion after class,” Crewell spat, his anger piercing the air. 

His lilac eyes quickly reverted to the projector placed in front of the usual chalkboard. He was embarrassed yet no one could judge him or usually break out in whispers, in fear that they would be included in the punishment. Vil cursed at himself internally but that damn out of season, raggedy bag you carried was enough of a distraction, not counting the person attached to it. 

All throughout the lecture, the actor had prayed that Crewell would forget about the mishap completely as there was an hour of class remaining, yet it had appeared that luck was not on his side at all.

He had tried to flee with the crowd of students rushing out the door, hoping no one would pay him any mind. But after he made one sharp movement to get out of his seat- 

“Mr. Schoenheit!”

Shit. 

Everyone had completely rushed out, with some snickering at the scene, not wanting to be there when the scolding would ensue as entertaining as it may be to see. 

“Care to join us in the conversation like I suggested earlier?” Obviously this was not a yes or no question and Vil had no choice in the matter, but nodded out of courtesy. 

“Yes, Professor,” Vil replied, coming down the short steps from his seat in the front row, not making even a hint of eye contact with you. 

“I understand that the action of lateness pesters you heavily, Mr. Schoenheit. Does it not?”

“...Well, yes it does, Mr. Crewel. However, I promise that another incident like this will never happen again and I will be sure to mind my business more when it comes to fellow students,” Vil said, wanting to spit out some words that could please his teacher into letting him go off the hook. 

“Despite being an actor, lying truly isn’t your area of expertise, young pup,” Crewel replied quickly, keeping a hand steady on the pointer he held. He then turned to you, his look softening as despite you not being an astounding student, Crewel favored you very much. Once again your formula of minimal efforts yet good results was absolutely infuriating to him. 

“I truly worry about you Y/N, as along with your grades, your attendance along with Grim’s as a default are. I will be having a meeting with Crowley about the extra work he has you doing on campus to allow you to live here as well. However, I will be suggesting a partner assignment that is extra credit for the both of you.”

“I mean no disrespect Mr. Crewel, but I personally am in need of no extra credit whatsoever. I have a 99.5 percent in this class which will obviously be rounded by the grading admin,” Vil explained with a slight laugh in his voice. You rolled your eyes as it was plain to see that the blonde was putting you down. Sure you may not have a 90 something percent, but he didn’t have gnomes gnawing on his ankles this morning that he had to take care of himself with no magic. 

But Crewel just looked at him with a concerned look, he was no stranger to shade being thrown and he was not about to tolerate that disrespect. He then explained as he moved to his desk organizing papers , “Oh dear, it looks like you have a bit of incorrect info dear pup. The grading admin stopped rounding this year due to academic dishonesty and such. Also I must add that you and Y/N had gotten the exact same test score, a C- if I remember. And with this being a huge difference from your usual scores, this will drag you down, I fear.” 

The blonde’s breath hitched, he would be fucked for this semester and although not royally, that lack of satisfaction would eat him alive. That last exam Vil had little to no time to study due to his role as a villain in “Love Conquers All” on MovieFlix but of course karma stops for no one.

“A way we could solve this though is through our extra credit tutor program. Both of you enroll, Schonheit tutors you and makes sure you get to class on time, and if there is improvement then both of you benefit. And Mr. Schonheit will get the satisfaction he craves for his grades.”

"Does that sound like a plan?" Crewel had waited for a nod from the both of you, but Vil quickly rejected that notion faster than Ruggie could snatch someone’s wallet.  

"How do I know that they will honor their promise, Professor? I am a very busy person and I do not wish to waste my time with someone who does not take things seriously,"

But you found his cocky attitude completely unbearable at this point. There was no way you were going to allow him to speak as if you weren’t standing right next to him. “I actually do take things seriously, please don't act as though you know me,” you said blankly, actually looking at Vil while talking for once.

"Excuse me?" Vil replied, he was thrown off completely due to you being completely silent this entire conversation. 

"Listen, I don't flunk because I don't want to and I don't show up late because I want to. I'm willing to fix it if Crowley changes the work schedule because it's virtually impossible to be a handyman and student all at once sometimes," you clarified. 

`

"I am an honorable person," you held out your hand to Crewel "and I swear I will change. I just need some help."

  Crewel smiled, enjoying the fire in your spirit to stand up for yourself. You then turned to Vil, holding out your hand with a stern expression and as unsettled as he was he took your hand in his gloved one and shook it.

"Good choice my pups, I know you both won't regret this."

But despite having many differences, you both thought the same thing.

‘Yeah right.’

~~~

After the dramatic retelling, the man grabbed the golden, hand held mirror on his night stand to pluck his eyebrows, carrying on his irritated commentary, “So now I have to watch over them like a babysitter. Can you believe this?” 

“Ah, Roi du Poison I do feel sorry for this causing you so much stress, but don’t you believe the little Trickster could hold their end of the bargain?” Rook questioned, as afterall, you were a good friend of his and he knew you of all people could keep a promise. It was always in your heart to get things done, regardless of how you feel about it. 

“Oh please, I will give it a week, Rook,” he replied, hyper fixated on evening the arches of his brows only for Epel with sleepiness intertwined still in his walk, wondering what the cause of the angry tone of voice from Vil was for. 

“What’s going on, you guys?” Epel questioned with a yawn. 

But Vil snapped his fingers in recall, completely ignoring the question, “Ah, Epel you just reminded me, remember when we were walking to class and L/N had come up to you, ruffled your hair and such and was very curt with me? What even was that?”

“...”

“What is it?”

“Vil, Y/N is really aware you don’t like them. They actually talked to me about it today,” Epel explained bluntly. 

Rook nodded in agreement, facing the vanity mirror as he peeled off his face mask“Oui, they try their best to not look at you even.”

Vil paused in thought, he didn’t think he made his dislike toward you so obvious but I guess it was quite the contrary.

“They don’t go spreadin’ but they told us, they’re cool about it though,” the lavender haired boy quickly added, not wanting to make anything worse for you. 

But it didn’t necessarily matter whether or not you both liked one another, what mattered is that you got the job done by solving your faulty grades and attendance. Dislike is just a small hiccup, plus there were plenty of justifiable reasons as to why Vil did not like you, despite being told otherwise from everyone. However, he didn’t face repercussions nor are there heavy consequences for an opinion after all. 

BUZZ.

The trio’s phones either vibrated or let out a cheery notification. Even from the door open ajar to the rest of the dorm, you could hear the different sound effects from student’s devices. The odd coincidence made them all look at their phones at the same time to look at what it was. 

“This just in for some hot new gossip! I heard from a little birdy that the fairest of them all is viciously bullying the new transfer from a whole new world. But…they’re being partnered up to tutor by Crewel! Looks like all beauty doesn’t come with grace :( 

-The Catacombs” 

“The hell is this?” Epel said quietly, staring at the anonymous text message. It wasn’t a registered number, instead it was an auto programming since it was only five numbers reading: 88709. 

“Oh mon dieu, Roi du poisson,” Rook uttered, unknowing of what to say, going from looking horrified at his phone to his dorm leader for any type of response. 

By then the phone notification of Vil’s was ringing out of control, and he could hear Pomefiore members’ reactions to such an appalling message. He was receiving texts non-stop from multiple people asking him all the same questions,

Is it true? 

 Why he would put someone down like that?

 Why does he have a problem with Y/N? 

But a text from one specific person ate him alive completely.  

Jack:

Hey, I don’t know if you saw the message

He quickly typed to the beastman in attempt to defend himself, knowing what they both went through together as children. Vil couldn’t let Jack of all people misinterpret him as this bully to his good friend. 

Vil:

I would never bully anyone, nor do I waste my energy on people I don’t like. The stress ages you too much 

Are you seriously going to believe this anonymous crap over me Jack?

Jack:

It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I have never heard the nicest things about you from them.

I’ll talk to you later.

Something like this absolutely could not get out to the public, bullying scandals can completely drag down a career as almost everyone goes through that traumatic experience of being casted aside because you’re different. And he would never be a monster like that toward someone, but playing villains in countless movies and tv shows would make it seem completely believable. 

It was them who most definitely put out that rumor, and Vil didn’t care whether it was late at night, or if Rook and Epel wanted him to stop.

He was paying a visit. 

~~~

With nothing planned and being extremely exhausted, this might’ve been the slowest moving Friday night you’ve ever experienced. And while you haven’t been inclined to care too much about what people say about you, to say you weren’t haunted by your encounter with Vil would be an understatement. Of course you were well aware of his distaste for you, but today it just felt as though it reached a boiling point with the way he was acting. But to take your mind off of it, you freshened up after a long day in class, slipped on something comfortable, put your phone on “Do Not Disturb” and decided to watch some movies on your laptop whilst eating snacks with Grim. After all, you deserved a reward as it would be the last day of relaxation before you had to lock down completely on your education. 

Your cat and yourself ended up nodding off to sleep on your couch easily due to the calming environment of your house, as the ghosts decided to take a hint on the mood you were in and were extremely quiet. As both of you were catching up on needed rest, you heard an excessive pounding on your door.  Whoever this was, it felt like they were about to break down your door with how aggressive they were knocking. 

Grim nearly attached to the ceiling with fear, making you yelp in fear, naturally frightened to answer the door to see who was behind that hostility. Your eyes bolted to your tall case clock, the time reading 10:32pm, the late time didn’t ease your anxiety whatsoever.

However, after adjusting to your surroundings, you decided that you needed to answer as to whoever was continuing to hammer on your door as it was giving you a headache. Neglecting your human world instincts of not opening doors to strangers, you walked up to your tall mahogany door, only to find your favorite person on the other side.  

Vil Schoenheit. 

His face was painted with true anger that you’ve only seen during his overblot, “You have some goddamn nerve writing that shit about me.”

You were absolutely frazzled and confused overall, “What even are you talking about? And why are you at my house?”

“Answer your fucking phone and you will find out,” the blonde replied noxiously, watching your every move believing that you were trying to play stupid with him. 

As you opened your phone screen, your eyes were lit up by notifications, as everyone and their mother had texted and called you in a matter of minutes. 

But one message sat completely unfamiliar coming from that fateful, 5 digit number. 

It was horrible and beyond untrue, even though he didn’t like you, you would never stretch it to bullying. Maybe as a joke amongst friends but never to be taken seriously. And as you digested that everyone had gotten this text message and with him being a celebrity this would do heavy damage. And whoever wrote this was out to get you both as many are absolutely in love with Vil, others hate bullying and hearing a glorified superstar being accused of such horrible things would make tabloids run with this story. 

This was a complete lose lose situation. 

You looked up to see Vil hovering over you, watching you like a hawk, you swore you saw his eye twitch with irritation, “I would never write something like this. And listen I am so sorry-”

“Who else would write something like this? Do you think I’m a damn fool-?” A small hand on his shoulder cut off his angry tirade progressing as he was about to move forward.

“Vil, we are going to get nowhere if you just get angry and lose control, now Y/N do you have any clue as to who would write something like this?” your friend Epel questioned kindly, juxtaposing his dorm leader completely. 

“Not exactly, I don’t hate Vil at all like that and I wouldn’t spend my Friday night making up shit like that and you can check all of my technology,” you defended, offering your phone.

His suspicion got the better of him, snatching it out of your phone Vil scrolled through your phone messaging history. And despite going against his suspicion, he didn’t have any concrete proof that you were the culprit.

So until then, he guessed that you were just as wronged as him.

~~~

You all quickly moved to the inside of your house, both to get away from the cold night air, but also to get out of sight as to anyone who could be watching all of you right now. To say that this made all of you, especially you and Vil paranoid wasn’t an over exaggeration. Beginning to theorize with your two friends as to who would write something like this about you two. But unfortunately, every possible “lead” you had was just a dead end, no clear motive, but then again who would need a motive for a stunt like this. It was obvious that attention was what they craved, to drive both of you up the wall and unfortunately they succeeded.  

“All they gave is a nickname, but any phone number could be tracked to a specific device used,” You said, as student announcements used 5 digit numbers all of the time, this person had to be skilled in tech. 

Vil leached off of your theory, “The catacombs is quite a gothic name afterall, we need to search Ignihyde or Diasomnia.” 

“Why them? That seems stereotypical” you asked, feeling argumentative on such a baseless theory. 

“Because, Ignihyde is the most technologically advanced dorm, and Diasomnia students seem like the type to enjoy playing tricks like this anyway,” Vil explained as if it were obvious, his sharp gaze never leaving yours as he spoke.

While the flames of his anger had been flamed, it seemed as though his disdain for you was more permanent than a wine stain on a wedding dress. Never fleeting even during this moment of vulnerability from both ends, but you had no energy to begin bickering about it.

“Roi du poisson et mon Trickster, if we want to find whoever is doing this cruel joke, you must put aside your differences and work together,” Rook said, cutting the tension and bringing the platinum blonde back to Earth. 

Whilst both of you didn’t want to admit it, the archer was right. If you wanted to figure this out you couldn’t be at each other's throats, fighting one another constantly. Otherwise you would accomplish little to nothing. 

And there was no way ‘The Catacombs’ could be hidden forever, and you would make sure to uncover the skeletons within it. 

Part 2...

~~~

A/N: Hi everyone! This fic takes inspo from an amazing novel that I read called "Ace of Spades" please read it its absolutely fantastic and the author is a genius. Thank you for bearing with me for the long time it takes to pump out content, you guys are amazing and it's always great to have opportunities to write.

xoxo, Nate <3

Taglist: (pls let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!!)

[arvandus]

The Beauty of Broken Things

Barbatos x GN!Reader

Content warnings: SFW; reader with (vague) mental health issues; Reader has self-deprecating thoughts and low self-esteem; hurt/comfort; lots of dialogue; romance; first kiss (cuz I'm a sap 💚)

Author's Note: Not me coming out of hiatus to drop this at 1:20am on a weekday. ANYWAY.... I was going through it a month or so ago and this was very therapeutic and self-indulgent to write. Hopefully you'll find some comfort in it as well. 💚

You creep into the RAD greenhouse under the cover of the Devildom darkness.  The warm yellow lights, usually on to allow students to observe and take notes,  are turned off for the evening, causing the devildom flora to transform from something familiar to something alien, branches reaching like arms and long, pointed leaves stretched out like grasping fingers.

But despite the sinister threat of danger that is interlaced in the native plant life, it still feels comforting.  The gnarled limbs and black leaves feel more protective than threatening, arching over your head to provide a canopy of privacy in the quiet, uninhabited space.

Usually the greenhouse is a bustle of student activity, with botany classes often perusing the aisles with their notebooks and art students lingering with their sketchbooks.  But classes had long since ended, the busy chaos of academia ushered away by the sinking of the large Devildom moon, bringing with it night within night.

You need this.  You need the silence, the privacy, the darkness.  The House of Lamentation doesn’t offer it.  The Demon Lord’s castle is also not an option as you don’t want to impose purely for the sake of self-isolation.

No, this is perfect.  It is safe, safer than losing yourself in the real forests that press against the outskirts of the Devildom.  It is a place for hiding, a place for becoming invisible.  It is a place that makes you feel small, from the tightly clustered plants around you to the vast starry sky that slowly rotates high beyond the confines of the glass ceiling.  You could almost pretend you’re a bug, an insect, or some other small life form who’s only purpose is to exist in the here and now, moment to moment. 

Maybe then you could find peace in your mind; maybe that voice of sickness and lies that whispered louder than any demon would fall silent.

Not all days were this bad.  But the added stress, the fatigue.... you knew it was only a matter of time before you found yourself dangerously close to that pitch black rock bottom. You felt it encroaching, a shadow teasing the edges of your mind, and you knew... you knew you had to find somewhere to gather yourself, to work through it without interruption or curious eyes.

This helps.  A place of quiet, of privacy, of nature, even if the nature isn’t your own.  In its own alien way, it’s perfect.

Perfect, but also lonely. You both love and hate it, glad to be unnoticed for once but vulnerable against the rare isolation.  Rare, but not unfamiliar.  You sit with it; let it soak into your bones.  Like putting on old shoes that still fit, worn soles perfectly conformed to your feet, your mind eases into accepting that familiar ache, a feeling not often experienced anymore, but still deeply rooted in old memories and dreams.  The old loneliness hollows you out, slows the blood rushing through your veins as your mind eventually quiets to a low hum of white noise.  It brings its own twisted kind of peace; not the healthy kind that heals and rejuvenates, but the broken kind that separates you from yourself, an act of cutting rather than mending.

If you could turn to stone in this moment, you would.

But not even this will last forever, your quiet reverie interrupted by the sound of the door to the greenhouse opening and closing.  The sound of the click and the creak of the hinge is startling against the endless quiet, and it makes you jolt.  You fight the irrational urge to hide within the surrounding shrubbery, as if such an act would truly hide you at all, and instead curl in on yourself with arms and legs crossed on the stone bench where you sit.

Whoever it is, is as silent as a ghost; you hear no footsteps, nor sounds of breath.  Whoever it is does not speak, so you know instantly it is not any of the brothers or even Diavolo.  But you feel their presence, and you know they feel yours.  There is an awareness in the air that wasn’t present before, the atmosphere going from one of empty quiet, to buzzing consciousness.

A moment later, a familiar pair of polished black shoes come into your field of view, attached to a familiar set of legs that stand formally in a way that only a royal butler could accomplish.

You look up and your eyes meet Barbatos, who stares down at you with a calm, curious expression and a slight tilt of his head.  He’s still dressed in his RAD uniform, but his white gloves are removed, likely tucked into the interior chest pocket of his tailcoat.

“MC,” he says gently.  “I did not expect you to be here. You do know that the RAD campus is closed, yes?”

“I know,” you reply. 

Even so, you make no motion to move, your body still curled within itself protectively.  It isn’t so much to protect against him, but to hold onto that feeling of smallness that helps to separate you from the ache in your chest and the cacophony of your mind. 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“Some of the flora require care after school hours, so I tend to them prior to locking up for the evening.”

“Ah.” Your sour mood strips you of your warmth, your words fading away as you retreat back into yourself.

Barbatos stares at you for a moment longer, before gesturing to the bench. “May I?”

You return his stare with your own before moving over just enough to make room for him.  The bench is small, comfortable for one, a slight squeeze for two, but he sits nonetheless, seemingly unbothered.  The proximity of him is a brand and a blessing, the heat of him surprisingly comforting while your heart thuds harder in your chest.  You’re rarely ever this close to him, any prior instances of physical contact occurring out of necessity rather than choice.

You both sit in silence for a long time.  You aren’t sure if he is expecting an explanation from you, but you couldn’t give one even if you wanted to, the struggles within yourself too tangled to fully unravel, especially with how weathered you feel.

Finally, after a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence, the smooth richness of his voice breaking the quiet that sits like a bridge between you.

“I often find the Devildom flora more beautiful in the dark.”

It is an olive branch, and you take it, a small smile curling the corners of your lips.

“Me too,” you reply.  “It feels more natural this way. When the lights are on, it feels like we’re trying to force the plants and flowers to be something they’re not.”

Barbatos stares at you for a long, quiet moment before returning his gaze ahead of him.  “Indeed. Things are more beautiful when they are allowed to be themselves.”

A sentiment you share, and yet it isn’t one you can extend to yourself, and it cuts you.

“I wish that were always true...” you mutter.

It’s a thought whispered past private lips, and you regret them instantly when his keen, green eyes, nearly black in the darkness, flick back to you.

“Why would it not be?” he asks.

You shift uncomfortably and swallow the lump that suddenly manifests where your voice is supposed to be.

“I don’t know...” you finally mutter evasively.

You feel his eyes lingering on you, and it feels as if he can read the dark thoughts that live there, shadow where sunlight should be.  But if he can read your mind, he doesn’t say so, and he doesn’t pry further.

Instead, Barbatos does something that you do not expect.  His hand covers yours, untangling your fingers from your tightly clasped palms that sit in your lap.  His touch is warm, warmer than you thought it’d be, and you can’t help but wonder how different his body really is from yours when it feels so human.

You watch as Barbatos twines his fingers with yours, a simple but shockingly intimate action.  It’s surprisingly comforting, fulfilling a longing within you that you didn’t even realize you carried so heavily until just now; an anchor of companionship, unwavering in its simplicity, gentle in its unassuming nature.  There’s a lack of expectation in Barbatos’s touch, a quiet acceptance of the here and now, of the you of this moment, rather than the ‘you’ that you always present to others, or the ‘you’ that others expect of you.

It makes something within you surrender.  It forces the dissociation from your mind, pulling you instantly back into reality, into your body. Barbatos’s tenderness, given freely without price, carves a space for itself within your chest, and it hurts, the sudden sharpness of vulnerability an open wound.  That vulnerability is unfamiliar, raw, terrifying. It calls forth your fears, makes the voices of wrongness sing louder than ever, listing all of the ways you are undeserving of this moment.  And you’re angry, angry at their presence, and their ability to ruin even this for you, to taint something peaceful and beautiful with something so ugly.

The tears finally come, blurring your vision and spilling over silently onto your cheeks.  More come immediately after, and you sniff, your nose starting to run as you wipe at your face.  A handkerchief appears within your view, and you take it, your heart too shy and embarrassed to look at Barbatos properly or even offer him a mumbled thank you.  But he shows no discomfort or disdain for your tears or lack of manners. Instead, he sits quietly with you, waiting patiently as he holds your hand securely within his own, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the soft skin between your thumb and index finger.

Quietly you cry, and quietly he waits.  Each second longer that you cry is a confession of your imperfection, your brokenness, and each second longer that Barbatos stays by your side is an acceptance, a forgiveness.  And so, without even speaking to one another, the very act of this shared moment provides a cleansing of your heart that you’d never felt before.  Each drop of salty water is a purge, a release.  There’s an amusing irony to it; an exorcism of sorts in a place where God isn’t welcome, supported by a creature who’s existence came from darkness.

The catharsis brings release, and the release brings fatigue.  The rigidness of your spine gives way to something more pliable, and you lean your head against his shoulder as you continue to weep, albeit gentler now that the worst of it has passed.  Barbatos lets you, his thumb barely missing a beat in its strokes against your hand.  He makes no effort to increase his physical reassurance; no arm around your shoulder, no leaning of his head against the crown of yours.  You’re grateful for it, not quite ready to be touched so completely.  Maybe soon... after all, the thought does entice you... but not yet. Not when your heart is still raw and tender.

No, this is perfect. It’s just enough.

Finally, the floodwaters of your heart recede, and you wipe away the last traces of wetness from your cheeks with his silk handkerchief. It’s damp with tears and snot now, and you know you’ll have to wash it before returning it to him.  You fiddle with it with your free hand, your thumb tracing along the cursive B that is sewn into its corner with dark thread, the color muted to black in the dark.

Your hands are still intertwined with each other, your head still resting against his shoulder, and you’re grateful for it as you find the courage to finally speak, your eyes still trained on that cursive B.

Your voice is quiet, hushed by hesitancy.  “Barbatos...I have a question...”

“Hm?”

“When I die, and my soul leaves my body.... does.... does that mean that the mental illness won’t be there anymore?  Does that part get left behind?”

“Ah,” Barbatos says softly, his voice rich with understanding. “I see.”

You sit up, although his hand still holds yours; after all, you haven’t pulled away yet.  But your eyes... your eyes are downcast, the shame of your breakdown too heavy regardless of Barbatos’s tenderness.

Now that you’ve finally confessed your fear it becomes easier to speak, and the words come more freely.  “I’m just... I’m tired of being this way.  Feeling this way, thinking this way.  It’s always there, like this big, lurking monster that I can’t escape from. Except it’s a part of me. I don’t know who I am without it. And I’m—” tears choke your words, but you force yourself to continue even as your eyes once again brim and sting.  “I’m just so afraid that it’ll never go away. Even when I die, and my soul is separated from this broken fucking body—”

A long, slender finger covers your lips, halting your impending tirade of self-loathing.  It forces you to finally look at him, and you’re surprised to see how deep the concern goes within his dark gaze.

“Shh,” he says.  “Don’t say such things.  It does the richness of all that you are a disservice.”

His words stun you into silence, and you stare at him wide-eyed.  He holds your gaze for a moment longer before taking the handkerchief from your clenched fist.  You start to protest, embarrassed at the state of it, but he ignores your concerns and uses a relatively clean spot to wipe away your new tears.

You fall silent as he cares for you, and in that silence, he begins to speak.

“You humans so often like to label and categorize things, an attempt at making sense of the world around you when you’re forever doomed to know so little. Lines of comparison drawn on a beach, not realizing that in the end, it’s all made of sand.”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“What you’re speaking of is a sickness of the mind, correct?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it...”

Barbatos takes your palm in his hand and turns it face up.  “I’ve heard you humans often use the term ‘mind, body, and soul’ as if they are all separate.  Back when I spent time in the human realm, humans treated the soul as synonymous with the heart and the mind as synonymous with the brain, both housed within the body.”  With his finger, he draws one large circle, and within it, places two dots vertically spaced from each other.

You stare at your palm as you ponder his words.  “Yes,” you say, “that idea still lingers... sort of...”

 You take his hand in yours, and draw your own circles – a small, a medium, and a large, all inset within each other like a target.

“I think... I see the soul and mind as synonymous of each other, in way, that they depend on each other. Or...”

 You hesitate, your fears surfacing again as you stare at Barbatos’s open palm.

 “I think...” you continue slowly, “I think I’m afraid that they’re the same thing. That the soul only exists because of the mind. If that’s true, then if my mind is broken, then so is my soul, and I’ll be carrying that brokenness with me forever.  It’s like... trying to forge something using a metal riddled with impurities.  The integrity will always be compromised, no matter how beautiful the shape in the end.”

Barbatos’s open hand closes around yours, cradling your fingertips that still rest against his skin. He turns your hand over palm up again.

“Imagine this” – he draws a large circle – “is your body. And this” – he draws a smaller circle within it – “is your mind.”

You wait for the third circle, but it never comes.  You frown.

“Where is the soul?”

“Everywhere,” he says.

Your gaze lifts from your open hand to his eyes.  He smiles back at you in quiet mirth, then drops his gaze back to your hand.  His fingers retrace over the larger circle he’d first drawn into your palm.

“Your soul,” he repeats, “is everywhere.”

Confusion once again surfaces in the contours of your face. Barbatos stares at you for a moment as he searches for the words in a way that you can understand.  His eyes sink deep beneath the surface of you, and it makes you shift beneath his gaze.  After a moment he blinks, his amusement returning.

“Perhaps it is my choice of words that is unclear,” he says. “Allow me to try again.” 

He pokes your forehead with his index finger.  “Your mind is not the same as your soul the way you fear.  It is simply consciousness, self-awareness provided you by your biology,” he explains.

“You mean my brain.”

“Yes.”

“So my mind is just another part of my body.”

“Precisely.  Your body is merely the medium through which you experience this life, whether it’s through your senses, such as sight and touch, or through your consciousness.”

He returns to your hand, his fingers tracing the invisible large circle for a third time.

“Your soul, on the other hand, is a different thing entirely.  It isn’t something that can be contained to one organ within you.  Not your heart, not your brain.  It’s deeper than that, richer,” he says quietly, as if sharing a secret.

His touch travels, his fingertips gliding feather-light across your palm, up your wrist, following the tendons and veins to your forearm where goosebumps begin to awaken across your sensitive skin.

“It’s energy.  It’s life,” he continues. “It’s eternal, and it’s woven into every fiber of your being, a golden thread holding you together like the universe’s most exquisite tapestry.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers curve around your forearm until he holds it within his hand, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin where your veins rest beneath. His words enrapture you, his touch enthralls you. If there was ever a moment in your life you could stay trapped in forever, it would be this one.

But the moment is short-lived.  Barbatos’s soothing touch halts mid-motion, his expression turning blank, as if he suddenly remembers himself and realizes the growing intimacy of the exchange.  He withdraws his hand, and it leaves a cold emptiness where his warmth had been.

You ponder his words, but it only leads to more questions.

“My soul is everywhere...” you mutter.  “But Barbatos... if it’s woven into my body, then how...?”

“How does your soul pass on after you die?”

You nod.

Barbatos holds his chin in his fingers thoughtfully.  “You are thinking too literally.  Perhaps it is my own failure to find the right words.  Human speech doesn’t offer enough nuance to fully describe something your kind still struggles to understand.”

He ponders a moment longer, his brow knit together in concentration.  Finally his head lifts and his gaze meets yours.  “Ah.  Perhaps we can describe it as such.  Your body is made of matter, correct? And if you look deep enough, you know that all matter is made up of atoms.  But not even atoms ever completely touch.” He takes your hand in one of his and holds it up, your palm facing him, as he brings his other hand within a hair’s breadth; close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him, but not actually touching.  “There’s a negative space, ever present yet so infinitesimal that you’d never know it’s there.”  His hand finally touches yours, his fingers aligned with yours as he splays them out.  “It is this space that your soul exists, interwoven, encapsulating every atom of what you are.”

You’re staring at your touching hands, wide-eyed now, as you take in what he’s told you.  The scope of it feels nearly too vast to properly comprehend, despite how hard you try.

“It’s all very... complicated...” you mutter as you finally lower your hand back to your lap.

“Hm, is it?” Barbatos replies with a curious tilt of his head.  “Here then, another example, but simpler.  If you were to lose a limb, would it damage your soul?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re separate.”

And finally, it clicks for you. 

Barbatos smiles.  “Precisely.  So, if a lost limb will not damage your soul, then why should a damaged mind?”

The weightlessness of relief begins to spread from the center of your chest, and you release a long, deep breath.

“I see,” you say.  “So when I die...”

“When you die, your soul continues on, transformed, as your body decays.”

The balloon of relief breaks and you do a doubletake.  “...transformed?”

Barbatos nods.  “Yes, by your experiences and choices in this life.”

Once again that despair rears, the dark void opening beneath your feet as you cling to your dwindling hope. You once again wrap your arms around yourself protectively, as if you are the only one who can keep yourself from falling, despite the presence of the demon directly in front of you.

“But... Barbatos,” you protest, “sometimes mental illnesses can cause people to make bad choices.  Wrong choices.  Hurtful choices.  If those can impact the soul, then wouldn’t that mean the soul does get damaged? Or tainted?”

Barbatos falls silent for a long moment, and you avoid looking into his eyes, your gaze downcast.  His hand reaches out and covers your forearm reassuringly, but your arms remain crossed.

“As a demon, I cannot attest to how just the Celestial Realm’s rules are.  I, for one, find them to be rather suffocating and arbitrary, lacking in nuance.  But even I would be shocked if such things weren’t taken into consideration when it is time for a soul to be set upon the scales of judgment.”

Scales of judgment... the idea makes you nauseous.

Barbatos’s touch to your forearm is replaced by both of his hands on your arms just below the shoulders.  You can tell from the way he moves that he is ducking his head lower in an attempt to catch your avoiding eyes, but you keep  yourself hidden lest your tears return.

“MC....” he says softly,  “are you worried that you will be judged unfairly when your time comes?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, and when you do it’s thicker, heavy under the weight of emotions.  “Maybe... or maybe I’m worried I’ll be judged fairly.”

“If you do not go to heaven when your time comes, then the Celestial Realm truly is run by fools.”

His words surprise you, and you finally catch his gaze, amusement beneath a raised, sarcastic brow.  Your skin grows hot and you avert your eyes for a different reason, your shoulders lifting slightly in subtle retreat.

“Well,” you continue, “you said yourself that the soul gets transformed during this life.  I’ve made some not-so-great choices, so far.  I’ve done things I regret; hurt people I’ve loved and even people I didn’t.  What if my soul is not as good as I hope?”

Barbatos gives a soft scoff of amusement, his brows pinching up in the center as he stares at you in wry amusement.  “My dear, the very idea that your soul is anything but good is quite literally an impossibility.”

Your tension loosens slightly. “How do you know?”

The corner of one side of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Well, to start, I am a demon. And as one of the oldest demons, I have devoured countless souls across my lifetime.  If anyone is to be an expert on the quality of a soul it would be me.”

Something about the way he talks so simply about his violence, combined with his intimate kindness, makes you feel lightheaded.

It takes an extra heartbeat for you to find enough air in your lungs to speak.  “And, uh...what does a demon such as yourself consider high quality?”

Barbatos stares distantly, and for a moment he feels ancient.  When he speaks, his voice seems almost otherworldly, holding a resonance to it that wasn’t there before.  “It varies from demon to demon.  Some enjoy the flavor of corruption upon a soul, some prefer the sweet, crisp freshness of innocence and purity... but all human souls possess something that ours lack, something that makes us crave.  We’re drawn to it, in the way your human realm plants are drawn to sunlight.” He pauses and shakes his head.  “No, perhaps that analogy is too mild.  It is more how the Devildom’s Succubus’s Kiss lures its victims into its choking vines with the sweet promise of fruit.”

You swallow for a moment, your throat suddenly dry as you stare at your now empty palms where your longing for him sits abandoned.

“You make it sound as if humans are the dangerous ones,” you chide.

A half-hearted attempt at a joke, but Barbatos chuckles nonetheless.

“Yes; perhaps you are.”

You can’t tell in this moment if he’s referring to ‘you’ as in humanity, or ‘you’ as in something far more personal.  It only makes the curiosity sharper, honed on the whetstone of your pining.

“And my soul...” you continue, “what do you sense, Barbatos?”

Dread immediately follows your bold and vulnerable question, fearing what he must inevitably see in you.  Is Barbatos the type to enjoy the flavor of corruption, to find value in broken things?  Or is he more of a purist, always a keen eye for perfection?  You fear you already know the answer as you take in his crisp RAD uniform, his perfectly smooth features.  Your gaze falls downward, an attempt to hide what you’re sure he already knows.

One heartbeat, two.  Then your chin is being tilted up by his thumb and forefinger until your eyes are forced to meet his.  There’s a hint of luminescence in them, the green noticeable now where it wasn’t before, pushing against the dark monotone of night that previously washed his irises in near-black. His eyes are searching, seeking, finding, and you can feel the magic, the power that unravels every defense, every barrier.  Finally, his gaze settles, the green quiets to a deep, sleeping forest of pine in winter.  It’s peaceful; soothing.

If Barbatos’s earlier release of your arm was to provide distance from the growing intimacy between you, then the attempt was in vain.  Because now the affection in his gaze is unmistakable, the deep shadowy green cradling you the way his fingers cradle your chin. It weakens you, makes you feel like putty in his touch.

“You glow,” Barbatos whispers, “like sunlight trapped in ripples. It’s blinding, and yet so beautiful I find it impossible to look away.  I can feel it in you, emanating like heat from a hearth, and it makes me long for a home I’ve never had.”

The hum of his voice makes you shiver, goosebumps forming across your skin.  The adoration in his eyes falters briefly, the lingering green fading to black, giving way to a dark, ancient sorrow.

“I think,” he continues, “it’s a glimpse of what heaven must feel like.  A small piece of divinity passed down to you from your ancestor.”

His fingers release your chin, but the vulnerability remains, if not slightly muted due to the distance imposed by the lack of physical contact.

“I am different from Lucifer and his brothers in that I was never an angel.  I came into existence exactly as I am, and as such I’ve never known divinity.  And yet... despite never knowing it, there is still a strange... hunger for it.  It is a peculiar thing to miss something you’ve never known.”

“You... long for Heaven?” you ask him.

Barbatos tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze absent somewhere past your shoulder. “Not so much Heaven the place. It’s more so the purity, the grace, to feel that sense of wholeness that the divine offers. It’s why we are drawn to human souls.  Angels, you see, are far too potent. Too much divinity hurts a demon; it can even kill them.  But you... you humans have just enough of both worlds within you to allow us a taste.  It can be rather addictive, especially for younger demons who have not yet had enough millennia to control their hunger.”

His pupils dilate in the dark as he refocuses his gaze.  His eyes meet yours and linger for a moment before slowly drawing down to your parted lips.  “You are a rare case indeed.  More potent in your divinity than the average human, but not enough to hurt.”

You quirk a smile at him.  “Barbatos, are you saying I’m irresistible?”

It is a joke, one you feel comfortable making because of its ridiculousness.  But then he gives you a smile you’ve never seen before that makes your stomach drop and your body awash with heat.  There’s a directness in it, a challenge presented in a wry upward turn of the lips and the glint of teeth in the faint starlight.

“Perhaps,” he says.

You try to brush him off with a scoff and break eye contact, feigning interest in the shape of the black leaves that arch over the both of you in the darkness.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” you mutter.

“Oh? You don’t believe me,” he comments. “Perhaps there is more I can do to convince you then.”

Your heartbeat falters, tripped by hope, and you keep your eyes above and around lest you combust right in front of him. 

“Convince me?” you question.

You’re attempting to feign indifference, to protect yourself from the inevitable rejection you know is coming, because surely he’s not... he doesn’t mean.... he wouldn’t... that look in his eyes earlier... affection yes, but that can mean anything...

Barbatos takes your chin in his fingers and pulls gently until you have nowhere else to look but directly at him. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, into him.  There’s a flicker there, a glow of swirling green, like nebulae trapped within his vastness.

“Indeed,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath upon your parted lips.  You realize he’s closer than you anticipated, closer than ever before.

 Your lightheadedness is returning, and your genuinely afraid you’ll faint, so you force yourself to keep speaking.

“What kind of convincing?” you ask.

He smiles that smile again, the one that turns your insides molten.  “The kind that doesn’t require words, since you seem to doubt them so fervently.” 

His thumb draws gently across your lower lip, his half-lidded gaze transfixed.  “Would you like to be convinced?” he mutters.

You swallow and answer honestly. 

“Yes.”

Barbatos’s eyes return to yours and his lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.  He closes what’s left of the distance, his warm lips capturing yours as his fingers release your chin in favor of gently cupping your jawline.

You close your eyes and reciprocate, your hand resting against his chest.

It’s gentle, soft, and for all of his heavy flirting just a moment ago, it is as unassuming as when he’d first held your hand.  It washes away the last dredges of worry, calms the ever-present unease that always lingers.  The clouds of your mind finally part, even if just for this moment, and for the first time in a long while, you feel feather-light as a peaceful warmth spreads from head to toe to the tips of your fingers.

When your lips part, Barbatos keeps his hand on your cheek and plants a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Now, believe me when I say you are beautiful.  Believe me when I say that you are good.  And most importantly, believe me when I say that I am always here for you.”

Your choked by emotion, your eyes once again burning, but this time for a different reason entirely.

“Even when I’m being sad and pathetic?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

Barbatos  puts his forehead against yours as his lips curve into a tender smile.

“Especially then.”

[ninupi]

Hello~I have a request about Hanma, how would he react to reader getting asked by someone as to why they like Hanma and she answers "well it's cuz he's a bundle of joy!" :D

sweetheart | s. hanma

₊˚⊹♡ tags; fem!reader, mentions of hanma being in a gang (obvi lol), readers friends assuming crazy stuff, lmk if anything else needs to tagged

₊˚⊹♡ wc; 900+

₊˚⊹♡ a/n; im soso sorry it took me so long to get to this but I hope you enjoy </3 also didn't realize it said HANMAS REACTION til like halfway through writing LOLL

"You'll pick me up after classes right?" you ask Hanma as you slide off his bike taking off the helmet he insists you wear when riding with him despite him not wearing one himself. He gives you an unimpressed look while fixing the hair on top of your head. 

"Have I ever not picked you up after class?" you can't help but laugh at the tone of his voice. "I just like to be sure. It would be easier if you just came to class, though. " You give him a hopeful look, hoping he'll finally stop skipping class for once.

He immediately sucks his teeth causing you to roll your eyes "You know that's not my thing babe, I've got other stuff to do anyway" You let out a soft sigh knowing he just means gang-related things "Whatever...it'd just be nice to see you throughout the day sometimes."

He lets out a soft sigh when he sees the way you pick at the strap of your bag and stare at your shoes "C'mon don't be like that y/n..." he says reaching for your hand, holding it firmly while you still refuse to meet his eyes. 

"I'll take you to that new cafe you wanted to go to today if you look at me" he can't help the grin on his face when you look up at him before he even finishes his sentence. "You mean it?" He fakes an annoyed groan causing you to playfully slap his arm. 

"Yeah yeah I mean it, I'll take you" he smiles seeing how excited you are by the news "Ok ok, you better be here as soon as the last bell rings then!" you say to him turning to head through the school gates when you feel his grip on your hand tighten. 

Turning towards him you give him a confused look but he only raises his eyebrows silently reminding you of what you forgot "You're such a sap" you giggle while pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his lips "Watch it or no cafe" he jokinglythreats. 

You only roll your eyes at the empty threat while he brings your hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss "I'll see you after class" he reassures while starting up his bike leaving you to wave goodbye to him before heading into school.

Once you've made it into your classroom you notice all your friends surrounding your desk talking about something. "Hey guys what's up?" they all look at you a bit wide-eyed at your 'sudden' arrival "Hey y/n…we were just talking."

You give Mai an odd look, obviously, they were talking "Yeah I know…about what though?" at this all of them stay quiet not wanting to talk anymore it seems, you give them all a weird look when your other friend Ayase sighs out "We were talking about your boyfriend."

At this you get a bit defensive, why would they be talking about Shuji? "What about him?" some of the girls cringe hearing the annoyed tone of your voice "No, not like that!" Ayase immediately says causing you to give her a suspicious look.

"Then what?" you question getting annoyed at the shy glances they give each other "It's just…" you give her an expected look waiting for her to finish "I mean why are you with that guy? Seriously? Is he threatening you or something? We can report him-"

"What the hell, he's not threatening me! Where did you even get something like that from?" you question her angrily while your other friends try to do damage control "I'm just asking y/n! He's a well-known delinquent, I've never heard anything good about him I just wanted to make sure you're okay!"

The two of you are now somewhat yelling at each which has gained the attention of other students in the class "Yeah he's a delinquent but he's a good boyfriend, he's never done anything to me or let anything to me!" You watch as your friend tries to find the right words to say. 

"You don't know him Ayase, you just listen to what other people say! And yeah that other stuff is probably true but I don't know that Shuji, the Shuji I know is good to me and treats me right. So who cares if he's a delinquent, he's the greatest guy I've ever met!" 

You feel your ears get hot once you finish talking, not realizing how loud you actually were. Your friends stare at you a bit dumbfounded at your outburst, Ayase finally goes to say something the classroom door opens bringing everyone's attention to it rather than you two. 

"Didn't know you could get that loud babe" Your face contorts into an embarrassing scowl at Hanma's words "Don't mind me though, I just came by to drop this off" he's holding up your lunch that you seemingly forgot with a cheeky smile. 

He softly places it on your desk along with a red bean bun that looks like it's from the convenience store across the street "Also got you this, know how much you love 'em" he winks loving how embarrassed you seem to be. 

"Thanks, Shuji, you didn't have to though…" you mutter now hyperaware of everyone's eyes on the two of you "Anything for my girl, don't forget about the cafe after classes though! Don't want you to be too full to actually try anything" he teases ruffling the top of your head before leaving. 

You keep your eyes on the packaged bun on your desk too embarrassed to meet your friend's eyes "You were right y/n, he seems like a great guy" You look up to see your friends giving you teasing smiles. You can feel all your annoyance come back at once "You guys suck!" 

[candiiee]

ᴅᴇᴋᴜᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴇɴ: ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ ᴀᴜ

summary: Izuku crushes on a hero student from class 1-A!

warnings: pure fluff, some angst, the F word friend/fuck

an: jfkedkckfjfj, f/f: favourite flower

Izuku focused on fixing this hero gadget like his life depended on it. And it did. His love life, to be exact.

The gadget belonged to you, Y/N, part of the hero course. You always came by, and talked to him, and as the poor sap that he is, he formed a crush on you.

And his chance to impress you had come, finally. You had come by, but this time, with a gadget of yours, that helped make your quirk withstand more.

And you had asked him, of all people to fix it! Izuku worked on it, working hard. He had to do this right. Maybe then, once he impressed you, he would get the courage and confidence to ask you out.

Soon it was done. He shakily sent you a text, that it was ready. You responded a few minutes later, saying you would come by in the afternoon.

Just enough time for Izuku to look presentable so he could woo you.

.

You came into view, and Izuku’s heart into his throat. Then he saw the guy next to you. And almost immediately, bitter jealousy, followed by heartbreak.

You were smiling with the guy, laughing and talking. Was he your boyfriend? You came up to Izuku, greeting him.

“Hi Midoriya-kun!” You said, waving at him.

“I-I told you you could call me I-Izuku..” he mumbled shyly.

“Who’s your friend?” He said, his smile ever so fake, giving him a once over.

“Oh! This is Denki, one of my friends. Denki, this is Mido-Izuku,” you corrected, making his heart flutter. He loved how you said his name. “Izuku is part of the support course.” You turned to him, smiling.

So Denki was a friend. Or so you said.

He mustered a simple "Hi."

Denki grinned, "Hey!"

"Um, here's your support equipment.." Izuku said, passing you it.

You smile, "Thanks! You're such a good friend!"

Dear Lord in heaven, strike me now. Life isn't worth it. After she leaves, I'm going to go cry into my pillow.

You don't notice his broken expression. "You did such a good job! It feels much lighter now, you're so cool, Izuku."

He musters a smile, "Thanks." at least you maybe thought he was cool.

Denki cleared his throat, “Y/N has something to say to you.”

You flushed, “I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. I came here to make sure you don’t chicken out.”

Izuku blinked, “What is it?”

You paused, glancing to the side, then finally..started to walk away. “Absolutely nothing!”

Izuku was baffled. What did you want to say?

“Um..we’ll catch you later!” Denki said, patting Izuku’s shoulder, and he almost recoiled.

“By the way, Y/N likes chocolate, sleeping, and the colour, uh, green, if you will. And her favourite flowers are f/f! Good luck!” And he was off, leaving Izuku confused.

“You’re so fucking dense.”

Izuku jumped as Bakugo appeared behind him.

“Wha-?”

@candiiee 2024

prompt my @getstarried

Taglist: @dokidokidraft @mo0nforme

[fluffypinkhedgehog]

❀⊱Walking Home Part 2⊰❀ ⤷ Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader | sfw, angst, one-shot, school au

Of course you can, anon! (// ´ ᗢ ` //)

synopsis: There’s a rumor going around.

warnings: mobian reader, miscommunication.

a/n: Not gonna lie, this part took way longer to make than I wanted it to be. (Stuff kept coming up.) But, that’s fine! Enjoy it while I go risk my life driving in the snow (*ಠ_ಠ)つ

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You step out of your English class, energy absolutely sapped. It's been less than a week since the incident, and now the entirety of your school thinks you and Shadow are dating. Whoever saw Shadow carrying you on the side of the road all the way home... they sure were a blabbermouth. Though you wouldn't mind the rumor much if it were true, but the fact is that the two of you aren't.

Now you're worried what Shadow thinks about the whole ordeal. Does he hate you now? You wouldn't be surprised if the sudden rumors made him not want to do anything with you anymore.

Sluggishly, you make your way over to your locker. The many fellow students excitedly talking and running past you in the hallway. A few of them give you the death glare as you walk past while some others pat you roughly on the back, congratulating you. When you finally make it to your locker, Amy pops up, sneaking her arm around yours.

“Soooo,” she starts, drawing out the syllable. “I heard through the grapevine that you and Shadow are finally a thing,” she teases. You sigh as you open your locker with effort, the damn lock getting stuck yet again. You breath in through your nose, the frustration already beginning to bubble.

"Amy," you start, but she doesn't hear you and continues talking.

"Super proud you finally confessed, and, look at that, it paid off!" She chittered, "I'm just so bummed that you didn't tell me! I had to hear it from someone else! How could you--"

"Amy!" You yelled, cutting her off. "Shadow and I aren't dating!"

"What? But everyone's been saying..."

"I know what everyone's been saying," you start your explanation, putting your textbooks and binders in your locker before grabbing your bag. "But we're not dating. I never said anything to Shadow and he hasn't said anything to me." You close your locker with a sigh, eyes downcast. Amy looks at you with sympathy. "It's just a rumor, Amy. A rumor by a blabbermouth."

"I understand," Amy says. She puts her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. It brings you a little bit of comfort, at least. "And I'm sorry. I let the rumors get to me."

"Thanks, Amy," you smile, the two of you going down the hallway. It isn't long until you hear a familiar voice calling the two of you.

"Sonic!" Amy gushes. The blue hedgehog approaches the two of you with a smirk on his face. Behind him was... Oh, crap. Sonic had Shadow in tow. You gulp, nervous being in his presence.

"Hi, Sonic. Hi, Shadow," You greet, pushing some of your quills out of your face and refusing to make eye contact with Shadow. Sonic responds with a "hey" back while Shadow merely nods with a small "humph" before looking away.

"How was track practice?" Amy asks, her attention now entirely on Sonic. For someone who's pushing you to confess your feelings, she's surely not taking her own advice.

"Eh, it was fine," Sonic said. "Crushed it as usual. Even set a new record!"

"That's amazing!" Amy chirped.

"Yeah, but whatever." Sonic's smile turned into a smug and you could feel a pit in your stomach forming. "I heard some even more interesting news earlier!" Expecting the worst, you covered your face.

"Sonic," You heard Shadow groan. You peaked over at Shadow, seeing that he pinched the bridge of his nose. Sonic chuckled.

"I heard a little bird tell me that you two started dating! Congr—"

"WE'RE NOT DATING!" Both you and Shadow shout in unison. You flinch, looking towards Shadow. He was looking away, face scrunched in annoyance. Yeah. Of course he would be annoyed. Even you are at this ridiculous situation, but… a part of you is sad that he doesn't like the idea of the two of you being together. Maybe… it’s a form of heartbreak. Yeah. You basically just got turned down.

You shift in your place, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder, looking back over at the surprised faces of Sonic and Amy. “I… I gotta get going,” You say, shuffling away from the group. “Homework.”

And like that, you sped off in a fast-walk, leaving the group staring after you as you walked down the hallway.

Shadow stared after you with his hand reached out slightly. He almost grabbed your arm as you left. Thankfully, he caught himself. He balled his hand into a fist, angry at himself. Yeah, of course you don’t like him like that, and these rumors aren’t making it any better. Without saying another word to either Amy nor Sonic, Shadow started to head off in your direction.

“Now, where are you going?” Questioned Sonic, a bit exasperated. Shadow has been acting odd ever since these rumors started.

“Homework,” Shadow simply stated as he paused to face them slightly. He didn’t say anything else as he walked down the hall.

Sonic looked over at Amy, sighing. The two of them had a similar blank expression on their face. “Y,know, Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“This mutual pining thing is starting to get a bit annoying.”

“Agreed.”

[luvz13ss]

୨☕୧ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ !!! ⏜ ۫ . ⟡

Character: -Bakugou Katsuki

Parts! - #2, Izuku Midoriya -#3, Shoto Todoroki

# !! ꒰ Independent ꒱ 🥢 🥡

-I think Bakugou’s dorm room would be freezing most of the time to stop himself from sweating excessively. He’d hate the feeling of trying to fall asleep sweaty. -If he showers in the morning he takes hot ones and if he showers at night he takes cold ones. -Bakugou doesn’t want people to know he’s a huge sap. He acts like he doesn’t care about the gifts he receives on birthdays/Christmas, but he keeps them all and makes sure they stay in good shape. -When he was a kid he’d try to sneak TV past his bedtime so he could watch the Adult Swim channel. He managed to get away with it a lot which started up his profanity. -Bakugou cooks dinner a majority of the time in the dormitory since he states ‘no one else is good at it’ or 'it tastes like shit when someone else cooks it.’ He refuses to cook breakfast though. 'Do it yourself.’

꒰ With Others ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮

-Asui and Bakugou are constantly arguing since she’s not afraid to say what’s on her mind and call him out on his attitude. -Bakugou has been good at styling hair ever since his internship with Best Jeanist. He usually helps Yaoyorozu and Kirishima the most with their hairstyles. -Hatsume has unintentionally gotten Bakugou in trouble when one of her inventions explode and a staff member thinks Bakugou used his quirk on campus without permission/supervision.

🕯️୧ ‧₊˚ ꒰ Bakugou x fem!reader꒱ !!

-His love language is definitely acts of service: -He’ll make sure there’s enough coffee left in the morning so he’ll be able to pour you a glass. -He’ll occasionally cook your favorite meal for dinner at the dormitories or secretly work on a cute little bento with little rice ball characters to surprise you with during lunch. -If he remembered how much you wanted a certain snack he’ll make sure to get it the next time Class A needs to get groceries for the dorm. -He’ll subtly hold doors open for you and pull out your chairs if he can. -Since he goes to bed early, he sometimes misses a few of the night texts you send him ( if reader sleeps late ), but he’ll spend the first few minutes of his morning reading all the things you messaged him. -He’ll let you borrow his manga but you have to promise you’ll be sure to return it in pristine condition.

⠀ི ·̩͙ ꒰ঌུ A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this! I’m going to try and make this a series with a majority of the students in Class’s A and B. Also, Have a nice day and lmk what you think !!! X3

-I apologize if the format of this post looks weird onmobile! I am a laptop user!

[luvstiorra]

durmstrang institute: a guide to success

"All door-ways, before going forward, should be looked to; for difficult it is to know where foes may sit within a dwelling." - Hávámal

some, like narcissa malfoy, say durmstrang institute is cold, austere, even unwelcoming; a place of strict rules and icy students. they see a school that has no sympathy and room only for those willing to fight for it. they whisper of its history intertwined with dark magic and students gone mad or evil. on some levels, i agree with them; durmstrang isn't a place fit for the weak, the soft, or the close minded. though if you truly are none of those things, you may find yourself right at home in the stone walls, gazing upon the frozen fjord and snow covered forests.

life as a durmstrang student is nothing short of intense; long lectures and longer exams are just the tip of the iceberg. it can be difficult to navigate student life here-- it's a school where perfection is expected, and only few can succeed. my advice: forge your own path, cut corners where you can, and do it all discreetly.

morning rituals

⟢ wake up is early: 06:00 sunday through friday. it doesn't matter if your first lesson is at noon, it's expected you'll be in the great hall for breakfast on time in uniform, looking pristine and polished. for those on the quidditch teams (especially krum's), prepare for an even earlier rising: 04:30 is not an uncommon practice time.

⟢ don't expect anything grand for breakfast. there's no lace nor frills involved, but it will get you through your morning just as well. during the week, the options consist of seeded bread with toppings or porridge. choose one, both, or neither-- no one's stopping you. sundays have more variety, karkaroff requires the chefs to prepare pannekaker (norwegian pancakes) and a variety of pastries (a secret sweet tooth, perhaps?) i recommend that whatever you do, grab a cup of coffee. make it strong, you'll need it.

lessons

⟢ tardiness to lessons is practically a felony in the eyes of the professors. class starts as soon as the horn is blown. this means be in your seat with your materials out and wand away before it sounds, the professors will start their lectures promptly.

⟢ pay attention, you'll never know when you're going to be tested. you could be asked to perform a hex or an impromptu presentation on the effects of the alihotsy sap at any moment.

⟢ keep up with your homework and readings. professors won't go over it, and yes, you will need to know it all for the midterm. late work isn't accepted, and if you dare hand it in past the deadline it will be set aflame before your eyes. no excuses.

⟢ lessons will be challenging-- talent is a prerequisite for durmstrang institute. however, professors will help should you request, and they appreciate when you ask questions or otherwise participate. it's okay to make mistakes, just only make them once.

⟢ dark arts is a subject, but it's less daunting than it seems. it is believed that students should learn all aspects of magic, for one should not ignore dark arts for the sake of "prevention," it won't prevent the eager. it's best tamed in a safe environment. knowledge is power.

nightlife

⟢ after dinner and on saturdays, the staff doesn't care what you do. your free time is for you to do with as you please. just don't go around jinxing your enemies or slaying trolls.

⟢ there isn't a town like hogsmeade by durmstrang, so floo travel is allowed to the closest wizarding communities. they are quite dull though, made up of a few raggedy shops and populated by elderly wizards and witches who want a quiet life. don't let this deter you from leaving the school grounds, it's not out of the ordinary to see older students partying in muggle bars. just be sure stock up on ink, potion ingredients, and chocolate frogs while you're out so you don't seem suspicious.

⟢ when you're not out shopping (😉), be sure to spend some time in the one of the school courtyards. the institute is charmed to be eternally snowy, so put on your gloves and find an empty bench for a moment of peace, or join a snowball fight with the first years in the main yard.

⟢ spend some time in the library to study or eavesdrop on the school's latest gossip. pick your seat strategically, but i recommend you come sit by viktor and i; we'll keep you in the loop if you bring us cardamom buns to fuel our gossip study session.

[xxtheophilusxx]

Sparks and Laughter: A Bakugo-Todoroki Tale

Summary: A playful interaction between Todoroki and Bakugo leads to an unexpected and amusing turn of events, revealing a new side to their rivalry and strengthening their bond. Warnings: Tickling Word count: 1.3k

The morning sun filtered through the dorm room blinds, casting warm, golden rays across the common area floor. It was a rare, peaceful moment at U.A. High School, with classes behind them and the students relishing their downtime. Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki found themselves sharing the space, each absorbed in their own world. Bakugo lounged on the couch, his intense red eyes fixed on his phone, scowling at whatever caught his attention. Todoroki, a few feet away, was seated in an armchair, his book resting lightly in his hands, his expression calm as ever.

Despite the quiet, there was an undercurrent of tension in the air. It was almost a given with Bakugo around; his presence had a way of charging any room with a certain energy. Yet Todoroki, with his cool composure, never seemed fazed by Bakugo’s fiery personality.

But today, something different stirred in the air. Todoroki’s eyes lifted from his book, glancing over at Bakugo, who was completely engrossed in his phone. A mischievous thought flitted through Todoroki’s mind, one that was as unexpected as it was intriguing. The idea of seeing Bakugo—explosive, always-on-edge Bakugo—react to something as lighthearted as a tickle sparked a rare curiosity in him.

Setting his book aside, Todoroki shifted in his seat, moving quietly closer to Bakugo. The explosive hero-in-training remained oblivious, too focused on his phone to notice Todoroki’s approach. With a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, Todoroki reached out, his fingers lightly brushing Bakugo’s side in a quick, playful motion.

Bakugo’s reaction was immediate. His body went rigid, and he whipped his head around to glare at Todoroki. “The hell do you think you’re doing, Icy Hot?” he growled, his voice low with suspicion.

Todoroki met Bakugo’s glare with an innocent expression, though the amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Just curious,” he said, and before Bakugo could snap back, Todoroki’s fingers darted out again, this time with more intent.

The contact was fleeting, just a light tap on Bakugo’s ribs, but it was enough. Bakugo jerked back, a startled laugh bursting from him before he could catch it. “Hah! What—” His eyes widened in surprise, a mix of shock and irritation flashing across his face.

Todoroki’s smile grew a little wider. “So, you’re ticklish?”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, but before he could unleash the retort brewing on his tongue, Todoroki struck again. This time, his fingers found Bakugo’s ribs with more accuracy, drawing a louder, more genuine laugh from him. “Hah—haha! Stop it!” Bakugo barked, twisting away as if the tickles were as deadly as a villain’s attack.

“Cut it out, damn it!” Bakugo demanded, though his voice wavered with the laughter he was desperately trying to contain. Todoroki, however, wasn’t in the mood to listen. He kept at it, his fingers dancing along Bakugo’s sides, delighting in the rare sight of Bakugo squirming and laughing.

It was surreal—Katsuki Bakugo, the volatile, no-nonsense hero-in-training, reduced to a writhing, giggling mess. “Hahaha—hah! Get off—hahaha!” His attempts to swat Todoroki’s hands away were half-hearted, his strength sapped by the unexpected tickles that kept pushing him to the edge of laughter. Todoroki, usually so stoic, found a certain joy in watching Bakugo’s tough exterior crumble under something as simple as a tickle attack.

Bakugo’s laughter was raw and unfiltered, completely at odds with the tough image he usually projected. “Hahaha! I swear—hahaha—Todoroki—” His cheeks flushed red, both from the exertion and the embarrassment of being caught off guard like this. His breath came in short, uneven gasps as he struggled to regain his composure, but Todoroki wasn’t ready to let up just yet. He continued his playful assault, his fingers skimming over every ticklish spot he could find with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

Finally, when it seemed like Bakugo was on the verge of either collapsing from laughter or exploding in a fit of rage—maybe both—Todoroki relented. He pulled back, his hands retreating as he leaned casually against the couch, his expression as serene as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Bakugo, panting heavily, shot Todoroki a glare that could have melted ice. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his pride was clearly bruised. “You’re dead, Icy Hot,” he spat, though the threat was dampened by the breathlessness in his voice.

Todoroki simply shrugged, unfazed. “You needed to loosen up,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Bakugo opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he let out a frustrated huff, turning away with a scowl, his fingers still twitching as if the sensation of Todoroki’s tickling lingered. Todoroki, satisfied that his little experiment had been a success, picked up his book and resumed reading, his demeanor calm and collected once more.

But Bakugo wasn’t about to let this slide. As Todoroki’s focus shifted back to his book, Bakugo’s scowl morphed into a devious smirk. If Todoroki thought he was going to get away with that, he had another thing coming.

Silently, Bakugo leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he sized up his opponent. Todoroki was still engrossed in his book, unaware of the impending payback. With a sudden, swift movement, Bakugo lunged forward, his hands shooting out to grab Todoroki’s sides.

Todoroki’s reaction was priceless. His book tumbled to the floor as he jerked in surprise, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. But Bakugo wasn’t going to give him a chance to recover. His fingers dug into Todoroki’s sides, moving with the same ruthless precision he used in battle.

“Gotcha now, Icy Hot!” Bakugo growled triumphantly, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Todoroki’s usually composed face twisted in shock as he tried to wriggle free. “Bakugo—wait—hah!” A laugh, uncharacteristic and almost boyish, slipped out before he could contain it. Bakugo’s grin widened at the sound.

“Oh, you’re ticklish too, huh? Let’s see how you like it!” Bakugo’s hands moved faster, finding every sensitive spot he could reach. Todoroki squirmed, his breath catching between laughs as he tried, and failed, to fend off Bakugo’s relentless assault.

“Hah—stop—haha!” Todoroki’s laughter bubbled up, his usually calm demeanor completely shattered. He twisted in Bakugo’s grip, but the explosive blonde held firm, clearly enjoying the turn of events far too much.

“Not so cool now, are ya?” Bakugo teased, his tone playful but with a hint of vengeance. He continued tickling Todoroki without mercy, relishing the rare opportunity to see the normally stoic hero so undone.

Finally, when Todoroki’s laughs had turned into breathless gasps and his attempts to escape had grown weaker, Bakugo relented. He pulled back, letting Todoroki slump back into the couch, breathless and flushed.

Bakugo crossed his arms, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s what you get for messing with me.”

Todoroki, still catching his breath, managed a faint smile. “Fair enough,” he admitted, his voice slightly hoarse from laughter. “I guess I deserved that.”

Bakugo huffed, clearly pleased with himself. “Damn right you did.” But despite the tough words, there was a lightness in his tone, a rare sense of camaraderie that hadn’t been there before.

As they both settled back into their seats, the tension that had once filled the room was gone, replaced by a newfound ease between them. Bakugo, still wearing a smirk, glanced over at Todoroki, who was now eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and amusement.

“You better watch your back, Icy Hot,” Bakugo said with a grin. “Next time, I won’t be so nice.”

Todoroki chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With the playful banter still lingering in the air, they returned to their own activities, but the atmosphere between them had undeniably shifted. What started as a lighthearted moment had turned into an unexpected bonding experience, leaving both of them with a deeper, albeit unspoken, respect for each other. And though neither of them would ever say it out loud, they both knew this wouldn’t be the last time they’d test each other’s limits—in more ways than one.

[chiyuuchu]

Shoto’s for you page <3 (30th July 2024)

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Prompt! The class tried to figure what a nonchalant boy like Shoto Todoroki would have on his tiktok for you page.

Class 1-A was abuzz with energy during a rare free period. As usual, the students found themselves immersed in various activities—some studying, others chatting, and a few engrossed in their phones. The topic of the day happened to be TikTok, as Mina proudly showed off the latest dance trend she had mastered.

"Deku, what's your FYP like?" Kaminari asked, lounging on his desk.

Midoriya blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, you know, mostly hero analysis videos, training tips, and a few cat videos."

Kirishima laughed. "Sounds about right. What about you, Bakugou?"

Bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms. "Explosions, fight scenes, and cooking hacks. Why does it matter?"

The class erupted in laughter, each person sharing snippets of their For You Pages, until the conversation naturally drifted towards the enigmatic Todoroki Shoto.

"Hey, Todoroki," Mina called out, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Do you have TikTok?"

Todoroki, who had been quietly reading a book, looked up with his usual calm demeanor. "Yes, I do."

The class fell silent for a moment, collectively stunned. Todoroki having TikTok seemed almost out of character for the stoic boy.

"Wait, really?" Jiro asked, incredulous. "What do you even watch on there?"

Todoroki shrugged. "Midoriya kept asking me to download it so he could send me videos. I thought it would be easier to just have the app."

This piqued everyone's curiosity. "So, what's your FYP like?" Kaminari asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Todoroki hesitated, an unusual expression crossing his face. "I'd rather not show."

The class exchanged puzzled looks. What could Todoroki, of all people, possibly have on his TikTok that he wouldn't want to share?

"Come on, Todoroki!" Mina pleaded. "We're all friends here. What are you hiding?"

But Todoroki remained firm. "No."

Suspicion and curiosity reached an all-time high. The students whispered among themselves, brainstorming ways to uncover Todoroki's mysterious FYP. Finally, Mina came up with a plan.

The next day, during another free period, Mina put her plan into action. She sent Todoroki a TikTok and approached him with a smile. "Hey, Todoroki, can you open your phone and check the TikTok I just sent you? I think you'll find it interesting."

Todoroki, unsuspecting, nodded and pulled out his phone. As soon as he opened the app, Mina lunged, snatching the phone from his hands.

"Mina, what are you—" Todoroki started, but it was too late. The entire class gathered around as Mina began scrolling through his For You Page.

The room fell into a stunned silence as the truth was revealed. Todoroki's FYP was filled with TikTok edits of Y/N. Clips of her during training, random shots of her around campus, and even some candid moments where she was just being herself—all meticulously edited with effects, music, and transitions.

“No way!” Kaminari wheezed as he took the phone from Mina. “Let’s check his favorites!” he said with a smirk.

And behold.. an edit of Y/n way back from the sports festival with an incredibly great velocity transition to the song ‘One Of The Girls’. And it was in fact very interesting.

“It’s not what it looks like—!” Todoroki pleaded in embarrassment.

The class, however, erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing.

"Well, well, well," Kaminari smirked. "Looks like someone has a crush!" he sing-songs as he swipes on the next favorite which happened to be an edit of Y/n playing the electric guitar during the school festival performance with the background music being ‘Heartbeat’ by Childish Gambino. The edit was indeed also very alluring with its flashing velocity and dim filter.

Kirishima clapped Todoroki on the back. "Didn't know you had it in you, man."

Even Bakugou couldn't help but chuckle. "You're more of a sap than I thought, Icy Hot."

“Don’t worry! We won’t tell Y/n.” Mina teases.

The class continued to tease Todoroki, but just then, the door opened and Y/N walked in, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the commotion.

“Tell me what?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

The room fell silent, everyone exchanging nervous glances.

“Uh, nothing!” Mina said, trying to deflect. “Just… hero stuff.”

Y/N wasn’t convinced. “Hero stuff? Really?”

Midoriya, ever the peacemaker, tried to step in. “It’s just that, um, Todoroki’s TikTok FYP is… interesting.”

Y/N’s curiosity piqued, and she looked directly at Todoroki. “Interesting how?”

Todoroki took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. "My FYP is full of edits of you, Y/N. I hope this isn’t weird and… I do very much admire you."

The class held their breath, waiting for Y/N’s reaction. She blinked, processing the information, before a small smile spread across her face.

“You… admire me?” she repeated softly.

Todoroki nodded, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief. “Yes. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I guess now you know.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she took a step closer to him. “You could have just told me, you know. I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages.”

The class collectively sighed with relief and joy, realizing that this was the moment they had been waiting for.

“So,” Kaminari said, breaking the tension, “are you two finally going to go out or what?”

Todoroki looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with newfound confidence.

Y/N laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I’d love to, Shoto.”

The class cheered, clapping and whistling as the new couple shared a shy, but happy moment. And as the buzz of excitement filled the room, Todoroki couldn’t help but feel relieved. What had started as a mortifying ordeal had ended in the best way possible.

[howslemon]

Chasing Cars

Young Mi (Kim Sieun) ft. Jun-Hee (Jo Yuri) x Male Reader

Words: 1k+

The desk creaked under the weight of your shared laughter, echoing in the dimly-lit, empty classroom. "No way! You still denied after it was already dripping on your shoes?" Young Mi was gasping between her laughs, slapping your shoulder.

"Come on, it was too embarrassing to admit," ah yes, it's still fresh in your memories how it happened.

If it wasn't for that spoiled breakfast that you ate that morning, it wouldn't have come to that. The first class hadn't even started when you already felt the sharp knots in your stomach. While your classmates were running and yelling around, there you were, sat frozen to your chair, couldn't move a muscle at all. Before you knew it, you felt something warm already dripping down your legs.

The stinking smell almost immediately spread across the room.

"Eww, someone pooped their pants!"

The kids already thought that it was coming from that one kid who was suspiciously quiet, head rested on his arms—you.

"Look, it's him!" That one fucker just had to point it out, his finger pointing at you.

"It's not me!" You shouted, panicked, denial all over you even though it was already obvious.

"Stop it, it's not funny guys!"

Junhee.

"Just leave him alone!"

She was the only one who showed concern for you. "Are you okay?" she asked, crouching beside you as tears flowed from your eyes. She pulled out her handkerchief—white, embroidered with pink floral patterns, pressing it into your trembling hands. The sweet scent of it battled the foul smell clinging around you, but it was enough to keep you down.

"Don't listen to them," she said firmly, patting your back to comfort you. "I'll call the teacher, okay? She can help you," she said before running towards the hallway.

That moment, you realized that there was still a good person amongst the cruel crowd, there was still kindness. You stared at her handkerchief, tears dripping down to it, forming small damp circles. It was the moment you knew your feelings for Junhee had shifted. From just a fleeting crush that turned into something much deeper.

.

The late afternoon sun spilled through the window, casting long shadows of the two of you along the classroom. You leaned back on your palms, staring at the students outside who were on their way to their next classes.

Young Mi hugged her knees, resting her chin between them, still containing her laugh. "You sounded so pathetic, you're lucky Junhee was still sweet to you after all that," she said with a hint of teasing, yet there was gentleness to her voice as the sun brushed her face.

"Yeah…" you chuckled, smiling as you pictured Junhee's face, her sweet voice, your heart pounding as you said, "she's one of a kind."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The soft sounds of leaves rustling from outside along with the voices of students from a distance filled the silence. Without looking at you, Young Mi said, "You're still stuck on her, huh?"

"How can I not be?" you shot back, sitting straight. "She was… different. How can I forget someone like that?" your voice softened. "You don't forget someone like that."

Young Mi shifted lightly, staring at the window, at your reflection that faintly appeared through it. "Right, someone who gives handkerchiefs to an ugly crying kid," she laughed softly, shaking her head. "God, you really are a sap, you know that?"

"It's not being a sap," you shot back at her. "It's knowing when someone's real. She saw me at my worst and didn't flinch. That's rare."

Young Mi's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her pants, looking back at the window. "Yeah," she murmured, "rare." Her voice was quiet, almost too quiet. There was another moment of silence for the two of you.

The sunlight caught in her hair, making her look radiant for just a fleeting moment, a beauty unnoticed by the boy sitting beside her. She glanced at you, her lips opened as if trying to say something, but she stopped herself.

"You know she has a boyfriend, right?" her tone shifted, "four years at that," she added. Your smile slowly faded, realizing that fact that you were still ignoring for years.

"Yeah," you formed your smile back, it was fake, yet almost reassuring. Young Mi looked at you, seeing that fake smile that you wore, yet your eyes spoke the opposite of what you were wearing.

Speaking of which, there was Junhee outside, arms clinging to her boyfriend, Myunggi. A deep sigh escaped you as you watched her laughing as they sweetly walked down the pathway to the next building.

Young Mi noticed your sudden shift. She turned back to face the window, seeing Junhee with her boyfriend. Her gaze went back to you, seeing your eyes sparkle as tears started to form, but not enough to fall down.

"You should let go, you know," Young Mi said softly, her gaze fixing back to the window.

You didn't respond at first, still watching Junhee and Myunggi disappear around the corner. The sight of them together hit like a knife twisting in your chest.

"How?" you finally asked, your voice low, almost broken. "How do you just stop feeling something like that?"

Young Mi hugged her knees tightly, her lips tugging together. She wanted to tell you. She wanted to scream that she knew exactly how that felt because she had been doing that for years.

Instead, she forced a laugh, "It's not easy. But sometimes, holding on hurts more than letting go."

You turned to her, the weight of her words sinking in. For a moment, you saw yourself in her expression, the same echo of your pain; it was far different than the Young Mi that usually had a playful exterior.

"Besides," she added, her tone softer now, "you're too good to spend your life clinging to someone who's already happy with someone else."

Your head slowly tilted low, letting her words sink into you. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, yet too heavy. The sun dipped low along with the moment.

"You're not alone, you know," Young Mi suddenly said, her voice barely a whisper.

"What do you mean?" You glanced at her.

She hesitated for a moment, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her pants. "I mean… you've got me. You always have." She offered a small, uncertain smile.

For a moment, you just looked at her. The weight of her words settling somewhere deep inside you. "Thanks," you said quietly, though you were still uncertain what she meant.

Young Mi smiled, masking the ache inside her chest. She softly smacked your shoulder. "Anytime, idiot."

The two of you fell into another silence. The warmth of the setting sun embracing the two aching hearts.

••••••••••

Young Mi deserves better.

[ivysangel]

jason todd being so desperate to be inside of you after watching you defend him to some snobby Gotham socialites. just pulls you into an empty hallway, practically begging you for permission between breathless kisses before pushing your panties aside and sliding in in in. one large hand over your mouth to pin you in place and muffle your moans because those are only for me sugar. you’ve got one knee hooked around his waist straining the seams of your dress but you don’t care if it rips because you just need him closer. even now jason’s a romantic sap, threading his figures through yours with his free hand pinning it to the wall above your head, making him feel and look bigger than ever at this new angle. it’s quick and dirty, the risk of the two of you getting caught hurrying the both of you along to climax. after, when jason’s helping you fix your dress and rescue your hair, he kisses you sweet as anything. a sharp oh has you breaking apart from the kiss, turning to see one of the same socialites from earlier standing at the entrance to the darkened hallway. you smile sunnily at them and link your arm around jason’s. brushing past them you walk back into the ballroom, knowing that if they were so scandalized by a little kiss, they’d be passed out in a dead faint over the cum dripping down your thighs.

(you asked for nasty thoughts to share with the class, here’s my submission for an A+)

sunnie @fic-over-cannon

sunnie you always always always give me A+++ content. star student, honor roll, valedictorian of the graduating class. the way i was literally thinking about a scenario so similar to this just yesterday?? we're so like this 🤞

i'm so obesessed of the idea of him with someone strong-willed and fiery. i think he genuinely finds that seeing you kind of riles up turns him on in ways neither of you knew were possible, especially in defense of him.

you're dressed in an expensive dress courtesy of his blood money, and you probably fit in better than he does. so for you to draw attention to yourself by defending him? and i don't even mean yelling, like a classy drag, champagne glass in hand and fully without breaking a sweat...yeah, that does it. (he would also find it hot if you got into a full-blown yelling match, but that would probably constitute you guys getting kicked out rather than removing yourself from the conversation to slip away)

the quickie at the gala is only a precursor to the rest of the night and very soon after you guys get back to the ballroom, that he doesn't want to be there at all anymore so he's pulling you along with him to coat check and the valet and then boom. out the door

[halcyon-writings]

Hello!! Do you write for Yuri from FE3H?? If so,could you write a few fluff hcs,maybe general ones or 'how did they fell in love and court their crush/love'? Thanks!!

yuri my beloved,,,

nav.

I think that Yuri, despite everything that he has been through and seen throughout his life, is a romantic at heart. It is a want to have that connection with somebody, where he can be vulnerable with his heart. But to admit that is a terrifying thing, to allow someone to get close and allow such vulnerability.

I am a fan of meet cute/meet funny, so for this set of headcanons you are one of the poor saps that was brought along to the Abyss when the house leaders decided to go and investigate. You end up stuck between fighting either a giant literal brawler or a skinny dude. You value your health, so you chose to fight Yuri. The rest is more of a comedy than what you would have ever thought.

He starts more playful with his banter, even when you both are in the middle of a fight. Somehow it feels a little flirtatious, but no way... he currently thinks that you're some intruder, right? Right? (You probably just got dragged along by Hilda as she didn't want to put too much effort into the entre thing, yet was so invested in the potential of gossip.)

Um... sort of right. Because once everything with the Ashen Wolves are settled and done with, you don't really expect to see Yuri again. Until one day Byleth announces that the class has four new students. Lo and behold, Yuri was one of them.

It definitely starts out as a crush and he's thinking that this is a passing fancy (until it isn't *dramatic sound*). Especially where the banter is a continued thing. Whether it is when you're both assigned to the same task or chore, or just simply choosing where to sit in class.

Since he knew you technically more than the others. you were an obvious choice. As rumors about the Abyss under the academy were few and far in between, and the one's that were around weren't too positive. You were one of the people that didn't care much about the rumors. Then that puppy crush only continued, Hapi warns him about it. "Don't leave your heart vulnerable, Yuribird," She will say, only to shake her head when he simply winks.

Yuri is also a little intrigued by you. It is no secret that he is very pretty. So sometimes playful teasing comes off a bit more flirtatious to some, but it is all in good fun. You, however, seem to not really understand his attentions as much as he tries to lay it on, thinking it's just how Yuri is to everyone (and unbeknownst to you, Yuri has a group of unoffical wingmen, the rest of the ashen wolves who trade their chores around if it means he spends time with you. Although he insists otherwise with a suspicious flush to his face, when he usually isn't so flustered. very casual indeed).

Then the timeskip happens, and you both are separated for a time. So it gives Yuri time to really consider how he feels now, and soon he realizes that some puppy crush was far from what he would call his feelings. Especially not when he thinks about you and your well being all of the sudden. (He def fell first and fell harder, I feel it in my bones.) (He also gets the classic Oh. Oh. moment we all know and love.)

But of course, during a war it is not recommended to really court someone you potentially want to woo. However, Yuri instead opts for a more casual approach. (If he can be casual, that is.) Sometimes he'll save you a seat at the dining hall when you're coming back from scouting or from battle. Sometimes he saves you a little dessert or snack that he knows is your favorite when it is served as well. Just so he can see the way your eyes light up when he presents his surprise.

Then the war comes to an end. Which means that Yuri can really begin courting you earnestly. For comedic purposes, everyone else might have seen it a mile away, but you? You were honestly surprised. It makes Yuri's fondness grow all the more. Because you don’t have any ulterior motives to get close to him, such as for his crest given its rarity.

Now that he can really court you, expect more than just flowers. Of course, he still gets flowers, and the bouquets are very elaborate. But he gets you more gifts and trinkets that remind him of you. He is also more than happy to receive any gifts you might give in return. Their spot on his shelf is well organized and clean, not a single speck of dust to be found.

Once we get past the trauma, the wedding is so on /lh

[empress-simps]

Scribbles and Sketches

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

CW: Just two idiots in love with each other and the occasional swearing.

Genre: Fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Summary: Sirius has a habit of drawing in every possession he owns. It also doesn’t help the fact that it’s the way his crush finds out his feelings.

Note: This is inspired back then when my crush (at that time) sat next to me did a sketch of me while in Biology class. Enjoy! Photos used are from pinterest, credits to the owner!

Sirius loves to doodle, whether it was little stars on his converse shoes, some random quotes he found funny that he decided to write in the back pages of his notebooks, or how there’s always a little scribble of ‘S.O.B’ on the first pages of his books (that he never really read, he just saw you once or twice holding or reading as you pass by him).

Walburga hates it, when she saw Sirius’ expensive hard bound books have his name scrawled out messily on the side, she was furious. She called it ‘Vandalizing’ and would punish Sirius back then for acting like a ‘mudblood’ and disgracing the beautiful pristine books with a childish scrawl.

Did he do it again numerous times before leaving to spite his birth giver? Yes, definitely, and certainly.

The night he left, he made sure to splash black paint onto the walls, carpets, and curtains— basically everywhere, he even managed to get the ceiling too. He could only imagine the horrified expression and the shrill scream Walburga did after discovering the thrashed room. A smirk of satisfaction never fails to appear on his face every time he thinks of it.

“Drawing her again, Pads?” James looked over Sirius’ shoulder, wanting to take a peek at his friend’s journal. Sirius hissed, shooing him away. “Go away, Prongs. I’m busy.” James lets out a snort, “Yeah right.”

“Just ask her out already, pads. You’re always ogling at her during classes it’s a bit creepy.” Peter teased, laughing at Sirius’ offended face.

“Sod off, wormtail.”

Remus took a break from reading his book to look at his squabbling friends. Seeing the journal in Sirius’ hands, he got curious. Placing the book down, he walked over to Sirius’ bed where James, Sirius, and Peter are. “That’s actually a pretty good sketch of her, mate.” Remus’ eyes travelled down to the right corner of the page, eyes bugging out at first then emitting a loud laugh.

“My future Mrs. Black? Really?”

Sirius grumbles, clearly embarrassed as a light blush coated his cheeks. “Don’t judge.”

“You’re such a sap, Pads!” James laughed, slapping his thighs repeatedly, finding it completely hilarious.

“Yeah, we’ll see who’s the one laughing on our wedding day.” Sirius grumbles, closing the journal and placing it in his school bag absentmindedly.

“If you even get to speak a simple ‘hello’ to her without tripping over your feet that is.”

The only thing keeping Sirius passing out and snoring in his boring Divination class is you humming next to him as you write in a blank piece of parchment. Merlin, he feels grateful and all that, but really? In the one subject he has no motivation for? Sirius grumbled; if it was transfigurations, then he could’ve shown off to you.

You didn’t fail to notice his grumbling state. Misunderstanding his actions, you thought it had something to do with you. Negative thoughts swirled around your head. Does he not like being your partner?

Putting your quill down, you felt nervousness settle in the pit of your stomach. You discreetly look to your left, seeing Sirius with a bored expression on his face. Alright, maybe you were overthinking things. He probably just finds this Divination class bollocks like you do, but you still folded the paper and placing it back into your bag, feeling a bit paranoid that he might see what you wrote.

Classes soon ended, and students hurriedly piled out, eager to get out of the boring class, muttering among themselves. You began to pack up your things, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sirius standing and about to exit the classroom.

“Sirius, wait!” You hurriedly grabbed him, your hands on his wrist. You blushed, trying to ignore how you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and the tingles that you felt when you made contact with him.

A look of surprise and a light blush coated his cheeks. “Y-yeah...? What’s up?” He stuttered. Sirius heard his friends howl in laughter outside the door, clearly spying on them. Thank Merlin that you didn’t notice (or didn’t care if you did notice) as you smiled warmly at him.

“Um, so are you free this Saturday? I figured it would be best if we both worked together on the essay since... we’re partners…” Oh for the love of Merlin, please have mercy on these two people who are too coward to say they like each other. Sirius blinks—not once, not twice, but three times. You can hear Marlene snickering in the background at the exchange.

Was he hearing this right? You? Asking him out? (Okay, not really, but in his mind, it still counts as you asking him out) He was pulled out of his thoughts when you chuckled nervously, awaiting his reply. “Sirius...? You in there?” Sirius cleared his throat. "Erm, yeah! Yeah, see you at the library then?”

You smiled warmly, and Sirius thought he had been blessed by Merlin himself. “Yeah, see you at 9:00 a.m. Bye!” He watches you go to Marlene and Lily, both looking at him with knowing looks.

“Bye.” He breathes out, still looking at you.

“Merlin, Padfoot is whipped.” Peter shakes his head, smirking.

“That he is.” James laughed, watching a pink-faced Sirius make his way towards them. “Cat got your tongue, Pads?” James teased, elbowing Sirius who tried to shove him off. “More like Y/n got his tongue.” Peter snickered; Sirius turned redder.

“Nah, how could Y/n even get his tongue when he couldn’t even get a kiss on the cheek.” Remus laughed, joining in the teasing.

“You guys are terrible mates.”

“We love you too, Pads.”

You bit your lip, looking at both outfits sprawled out your bed. “Lily! Please help me pick one!” The said girl looked up from her charms essay, standing up and walking towards you.

“Are you going on a date, Y/n?”

“No, just doing some divination work with Sirius.”

Marlene perked up, her smirk evident on her features. “Are you sure it’s just divination? Not something else?” Lily scolded her “Oh hush Marlene! Y/n isn’t like that.” She turned to face you, “I think the red sweater and ripped jeans will look good on you.” She smiles, you smiled gratefully. “Thanks Lils, knew I could always count on you. Not like the other person here.” You teased, eyeing Marlene jokingly who pouted “Hey!”

Sirius groans, plopping down his bed. It seems like he couldn’t get a single wink of sleep. He tried everything, even taking a walk outside into the wee hours of the night. Remus throws a pillow at him, grumpier as the full moon is only days away. “If you don’t wanna sleep then at least let us get a fucking good night’s rest, Pads.”

He ignored his friend but kept quiet not to disturb his friends. “Merlin, the things you do to me woman...” he grumbled, rubbing his hand exasperatedly over his face. Opening his trunk, he decided to mull over what he was going to wear for the next day.

“Alright, do I look presentable?” You turn towards your two friends, dressed in the slightly oversized red sweater and ripped jeans Lily had recommended, topping it off with a maroon converse with little flowers and leaves embroidered around it. Pretty basic but eh, it works.

“Kinda meh, let’s put on some make up, yeah?” Marlene gestured to you to sit down, looking at the mirror, you frowned. “I only know how to do blush and lips though...”

“That’s where I come in, let’s make Black drop on his knees and fawn over you.”

Sirius glanced nervously at his watch, uncharacteristically quiet and early; he was a whole hour early, a huge change for the boy who’s always running late and calling it being ‘fashionably late’. By the way he was behaving it looks like he got stood up on a date, which was quite amusing to other students who are seeing this new side of him. Just sitting and having nothing to do makes him even more impatient, so he did what he did best— sketching you.

He took out his journal which he surprisingly brought and took out a pencil and an eraser he stole from Remus. He pictures you in his head, how you hum while scribbling something in a parchment next to him during your last divination class. He started to sketch, expertly drawing you as he did hundreds of times before. It took him about an hour to finish it, even having the time to detail it. He smiles lightly, adding ‘My love.’ in the right corner. It was not just some sketch as he likes to call it, it’s an art piece.

You are his muse— much like he is to your poems.

“Sirius, hey.” You smiled, sitting down beside him quietly, oblivious to a drawing he made that was practically glaring at you, waiting to be noticed. “Sorry I was late.”

Sirius blinks, looking at you “Ah, it’s no problem! I just got here too.” you smiled, pulling out some quills and parchment they would need for the study session as Sirius grabbed the books from his bag. What you both failed to notice was the little piece of parchment containing a painfully obvious poem about him.

Ah, talk about being blindly in love.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. I would seriously drop out of this class next year...” She mumbles, grabbing Sirius’ books without much of a thought.

“I’ll go start with the reading about tea leaf reading then- what’s that?” She stopped in her tracks, staring at what seemed to be a perfect drawing of her. Sirius blanched, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Shit, you were definitely not supposed to see that. Sirius wanted to cry and disintegrate on the spot.

Your eyes scanned the page quickly, eyes catching the words “My Love” in the corner in Sirius’ handwriting. Your face quickly heated up as your heartbeat went faster, your stomach doing flips. You were speechless, eyes gravitated to the drawing. Sirius quickly slammed shut his journal, pulling you out of your trance.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He tries to save face. Although he immediately wanted to punch himself as he saw you visibly deflate at his statement. He can already feel Remus whacking him upside the head while James scolded him. As if Potter boy would do any better when facing Lily Evans. You bit your lip “Oh.”

An awkward silence ensued for a few moments, Sirius looking anywhere but you and you looking down biting your lip. “Uh, I know you said it’s not what it looks like…” You started, making Sirius whip his head in your direction. “But I just wanted to tell you… That I fancy you.” She saw the poem she wrote during divination class poking out of some of the blank parchments, Marlene and Lily had probably placed it among your parchments. She carefully hands it to him. “I’ll just do the rest of the essay, don’t worry. I know you don’t like this subject.” She quickly packed her things up and headed straight to the exit.

He sat there dumbly, reading the poem you gave to him, eyes widening when he realized it was quite obvious that the love poem was about him. Merlin, he done fucked up his chances of being with the girl of his dreams.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Remus grabbed his wrist and dragged him to a section of the library where not many people are to see the rest of the Marauders with disappointed looks on their faces. “Really, padfoot?” James frowned. “You’ve done it, pads.” Peter sighs, shaking his head.

“Just what the fuck was that, Black?!?” Remus hissed, Sirius bit his lip and looked away. “Lily told me how Y/n was excited, she’ll kill us for sure.” James shivered while Peter gulps “Don’t forget about Marlene.”

“Did your exchange your braincells for your fucking hair, padfoot?!” Remus still hasn’t finished scolding his friend. “I know I know, Moony. I fucked up.” He grumbles, looking at his Doc Martens. “To think that we even planned this with Lily and Marlene…” Remus grumbles.

“What? What plan?”

“Setting you up with Y/n, we thought this will be the perfect time.” James told him, “Apparently not” Remus grumbles. “Y/n’s got a crush on you for ages, Pads.” Peter told him. “And how would you know this?” Sirius found it hard to believe.

“Aside from the fact that she practically confessed to you earlier, Lily accidentally slipped up and told me.” James shrugged. They watch as Sirius practically scrambles out of the library, presumably off to find you. Remus folded his arms to his chest.

“Well at least he saved one braincell just in case.”

“Y/n! Hold on!” Sirius called, seeing you were about to enter the girls’ part of the dormitory. You ignored him, continuing to walk. He managed to catch up, holding your hand to stop you. “Y/n please…” You turned to him, eyes swimming with disappointment. “What is it, Black?” He visibly winced. “I-I take it back.” He told her, you raised one eyebrow in suspicion, “Take what back?”

“What I said earlier, in the library.”

“I don’t need you to feel bad for me.”

“I’m not, believe me.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, conflicted. Should you believe him?

“I’ve also been hopelessly in love with you, Y/n.” Your eyebrows shot in surprise. He continued, “I… I was so embarrassed and panicked since… my journal was full of you.” Sirius confessed. You were about to reply when he opened his mouth again. “And your poem; fuck, it made me feel things. Merlin, I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry love-”

“If you really are sorry then just shut up and kiss me, Black.”

[chloeangelic]

Reflection of the Moon,

Ch 6 - Eyes on me

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

Series summary: An affair and resulting pregnancy with Joel in post-outbreak Jackson forces you both to reflect on what it means to forgive.

Chapter summary: You and Joel settle into your new roles and your new routine.

Warnings: Smut, age gap (reader is 28, Joel is 52), ass play, fingering, pregnant sex, creampie, fluff, extreme domestic vibes.

Word count: 4.5k Rating: 18+ AO3

A/N: This isn't very long, but it's my favorite chapter so far. I love when Joel is hot and overbearing and I love their dynamic.

All Joel seems to do is work; work to contribute to the community in Jackson, work to make his house a safe place for a baby, and work for your forgiveness, for your love, for you to let him be a present father, a good partner, even a husband if you let him propose to you. He made you promise to let him take care of you, feed you, keep you company, walk you places - overbearing already, not even a new father yet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The thought of you having a lack of anything makes him incredibly stressed, incredibly worried and incredibly distracted when he’s out on patrol. He desperately needs to know that you have  every little thing you need, whether it’s a safe home or a snack in your bag or a sweater to wear or someone to keep you warm at night. The same routine every morning you leave his house, your lunch, your books, socks, sweater, keys, and you’re coming over for dinner, okay? Come straight here when school’s out and if you ain’t here by five, I’ll come lookin’ for you. 

And when you arrive at his house fifteen minutes late, saying you ran into Abby and Owen and got to chatting; the roll of his eyes, his head shaking, ”Out of control little lady, always got me worried about you”. You roll your eyes at him back, muttering helicopter husband, smoothing your hand down his shoulder while you look at the food he has cooking on the stove. His hand comes up to grab your jaw, tilting your face up to look at him with innocent eyes, batting your eyelashes and stifling a giggle. If you were a good girl and did as you were told, I wouldn’t have to be overbearing, would I now? 

“It’s more fun when you chase me around,” you say, twisting and turning in his grip so you lean your back into his chest, and his hand falls to your stomach, rubbing his palm over your steadily growing bump and running his nose up and down the side of your neck, oh, I bet. You grab the spatula to free up his other hand, and stir around the pan a little, chuckling to yourself, “Imagine how hard your life will be when there’s two of me running around you gotta keep track of.” Don’t remind me, you hear him mutter into your skin, followed by a huff of a laugh. 

Then, after a moment, “You know I’m gonna be the happiest man in the world, right?”, he whispers, and you can hear a little hint of a sniffle as he buries his face in your hair.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you’re fucking crying again, Joel,” you say, trying to sound surprised, annoyed, anything but painfully familiar with how much of a sap this man truly is.

You try to turn around to face him, but his strong arms have snuck under yours and wrapped around your belly, his face dug into the crook of your neck now, not letting you turn around, leaving you to no option but to stand there for a while, running your fingers through his hair, letting your nails drag through his beard on the way down as he kisses your jaw. 

-

Despite having your class schedule written out and hanging on his fridge, Joel somehow manages to interrupt another few classes to drop off your lunch, his inability to remember when your lunch break is, now resulting in your students asking for Mr. Joel quite frequently, and being overjoyed when he comes in the door once again. You wave him in, reaching your hand out and tapping your fingers together like a crab, gimme gimme, gesturing at the lunchbox in his hand.  

He seemed shy, very shy, the first two times he came in, but he seems to have softened over the last little while, opening up more and more, unable to hide his smile when the kids remember his name. You figure you might as well take a breather, and open the box on your desk to see a stack of pancakes, a little container of syrup, and a set of cutlery neatly wrapped up in a little cloth.

“How about-” you start to say as you drizzle the syrup, not paying your students or Joel any mind at all, smacking the tips of your fingers when you’re done pouring, “You all ask Joel anything you want, and I’ll sit here and eat my lunch." 

And so you sit there, listening to their questions and his stories, enjoying your pancakes and looking up at this man, this beautiful and caring and responsible man, who is so good with children and teenagers, so attentive and patient and interested in everything they have to say. It makes your heart flutter and twist around itself, your baby refusing to stay still while you try to eat.

The girls in the front row, gossipy little chicks, giggle and look at you, then at Joel, then back at you, mocking you a little for how longingly you look at him. You don’t care, you could spend your entire day looking at him and listening to him talk, let his voice and his laugh fill your ears over and over. Your heart is about to burst when he tells a dad joke, a really shitty one, finally welcoming the role so warmly, excited about being a father again. 

It comes especially close to bursting when he walks you home and those same little students from the interrupted classes come up and tug at his jacket, wanting to tell him a joke, or a little story, about them or the class or their family, talking to him as if he were their uncle.

He crouches down and entertains them as you stand and watch, hear him laugh as they say, “My dad thinks you're scary but I think you're very nice, Mr Joel.” Despite his size, despite his grumpy demeanor, most of the time, and his ability to be downright terrifying, he is so, so gentle with them, speaking in a voice you’ve never heard from him, one that makes your insides melt, verging on cooing as he speaks the youngest ones. 

“Why are you such a dad?”, you ask as you walk away from the school, your hand locked in his, keeping you warm.

He shrugs, a careful smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “It’s all I know how to be." 

-

Jesus, he mutters as steps inside, looking at himself in the mirror and running his fingers through his hair. “You mind givin’ me haircut?”. he asks, “I got scissors in the bathroom somewhere.” 

You rummage around in the bathroom and listen to him starting dinner downstairs, moving to his bedroom when you’ve ransacked the medicine cabinet and cupboards to no avail. Your rummaging efforts move onto the dresser, carefully sliding a large drawer open to see a stack of baby books, parenting books, probably thirty years old, twenty at best. You pick them up one by one, flipping through to discover his bookmarks near the end of all four of them. 

Your eyes flutter closed and you take a few deep breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay as they press up against your waterline. He’s not leaving, he’s not leaving, he’s not leaving. You think it over and over, whisper it to yourself so you don’t forget. He’s here, and he’s not leaving, and he’s going to be there for you just like he said he would. He loves you and he loves your baby and he’s not leaving. 

Realizing you have to get these books out of your field of vision before you start sobbing, you carefully stack them where they were and move onto the next drawer, finding the scissors immediately. As you walk down the stairs and see Joel in the kitchen, you fight the urge to throw yourself at him and tell him that you accidentally snooped and found the books, that you’re so relieved and happy you want to cry, that you love him so much and you forgive him and you don’t want to be away from him for as much as a day ever again. 

So you snip the scissors a few times as you enter the room and point them towards a chair, motion for him to sit down and position yourself between his legs. You feel his hands sweeping up the back of your leggings as you comb through his hair, sliding up and along your curves and coming to rest on the sides of your bump, his thumbs tracing over his own flannel shirt that you’re wearing. You straighten out one section at a time and carefully cut it, letting it go to make sure it falls into a perfect arrangement. 

You can see his eyes on you the entire time you're combing through his brown and silver curls, trimming them one by one and wrapping them around your fingers to lay them down. Neither of you say anything, the scratch of the scissors the only sound in the room as you furrow your brow in concentration and his eyes soften as he looks at you, the mother of his baby, the love of his life. 

There’s no way of telling how much time is going by as you meticulously make your way through all of those thick, beautiful curls, but you hear Ellie’s door open and close, then open and close again through the window before you’re done. Thank you, mama he murmurs, and you don’t get the chance to say anything before he gets a little kick to this hand in response. You can’t help but giggle and close your eyes, flustered by your baby always giving you away when you try to play it cool with their father. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you, right, angel?”, he asks with a serious expression as you put the scissors down. I do, you smile, your voice barely a whisper as you twist your fingers through his hair. “I’ll give you anything you need, anything you want, you just have to tell me,” he says as his hands find your hips, pulling you down into his lap and resting on your lower back.

You look at each other for a while, nuzzling your noses together, touching each other's hair, shoulders, and hands in silence before he asks, “Will you move in with me?”

“You want me to?”, you ask in a lousy attempt at being sneaky, feeling your heart flutter at his proposal.

“I know things aren’t a hundred percent between us and I don't want you to feel like I’m pressurin’ you to forgive me, I just- I want to at least try to be a family, us three, and Ellie," he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes your palms, pulling you closer, “We can share my bedroom, or you can even get your own, I- I just need you to live with me so I know you're safe, so I can feed you, so I’m there when the baby comes.” 

You look at the little wrinkles forming around his eyes as he smiles, and you avert your eyes in an attempt not to giggle. “And I know you're lazy with your meals on weekends,” he says with a chuckle, playing with your hair, “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He carefully wraps his hand around your jaw, looks into your eyes and gives you a kiss, not letting go as you part.

“Will you?”, he asks, sounding on the verge of concern, “Please?”.

You nod as you snake your arms around him, whispering your answer into his ear, of course I will, I’d love to, and feeling him squeeze you gently in response. 

-

You find yourself awake in the middle of the night, the moon shining outside the window and the house completely quiet. You shift around a little and try to get back to sleep, sticking your foot under Joel’s wide back as you lay on your side, hoping that the warmth of his skin will soothe you to sleep, but minutes go by and you feel awake as ever, prompting you to carefully whisper,

 Joel? Are you awake? 

Yeah, you hear from his side of the bed, before he shifts around, finding you under the duvet and pulling you into him, wrapping your leg around his hip and resting your head on his bicep. “Couldn’t sleep?”, he asks softly, brushing the hair away from your face and neck, and you shake your head in response. “Me neither,” he says, putting his arm around your back.

You lay there for a few minutes, looking at each other, scratching his beard with your nails and giving a few soft kisses to the underside of his jaw. His eyes are heavy with sleep but his attention is on you, and you can tell he won’t allow himself to sleep again until you’re peacefully knocked out in his embrace. 

“What animal would you be in another life?”, you whisper, twirling one of his freshly cut, bouncy curls around your finger while he brushes your spine with his fingertips, tracing all the way up, then all the way down, over the curve of your ass and along the back of your thigh.

“Maybe a pistol shrimp,” he responds after a moment of reflection. A ridiculous answer from a ridiculous man.

“What the fuck?”, you mutter, trying to keep it down even though you’re the only two people in the house, “Why would you want that? Seems like a terribly meaningless existence." The room is relatively dark, but the moonlight shining through the window illuminates him enough for you to see the unamused expression on his face.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being a shrimp,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “What’s the matter with you? Don't judge.” He tickles your side and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking your belly into the softness of his stomach, your baby seemingly still asleep despite the sound and touch of their father usually eliciting a barrage of kicks. 

“How do you think they feel, huh?”, he whispers into your ear, chuckling a little under his breath as the words leave his mouth, “Knowing some lady out there is wonderin’ why anyone would wanna be a shrimp?”

Weirdo, you roll your eyes and he rolls his back, mockingly.

“What would you be?”, he asks.

You take a moment to think, “I don't know… Maybe a raccoon, they're pretty cute.”

He nods a little, “You act like a raccoon.”

“Ah,” you gasp, trying to sound insulted but knowing he’s probably right.

“What?”, he gently takes your hand and squeezes it, rubbing his thumb into your palm, “Grabby little hands all over my fridge and cupboards, can barely keep snacks in there, they always get stolen somehow.” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for you to defend your not-so-subtle thievery. 

“It could be Ellie,” you finally say, blinking and biting the tip of your tongue, trying to give him the most innocent eyes you can.

“She's an honest thief, unlike you,” he scolds with false severity, looking at you with piercing eyes.

“Respect my hustle, god damn it,” you whisper through your teeth, “I'm pregnant and constantly hungry, do you have any idea what that’s like?” Your baby starts kicking at that, and Joel laughs, calmly and deeply in his chest, kissing and chuckling against your hairline as he feels the little kicks to the the skin of his stomach. “Someone agrees with me” he says and starts rubbing your belly.

“Mama’s a real thief, isn't she?”, he murmurs, looking down between you and caressing the side of your bump. “Steals my snacks, steals my heart, steals all my time. But I’ll give her anything”, he looks up at you as he slides his hand over your asscheek and squeezes, “Anything she needs, I’ll give to her. Cause she’s my world, I’m not sure if she knows that.”

You maintain a shared gaze for a while, his hand still following the tiny kicks and his smile never leaving his face. You’re so in love with him, so lost in the feel of his warmth surrounding you, keeping you safe. 

You run your hand over his thick shoulder, down his arm, feeling his muscles bulging out and the soft veins running on top of them. He’s so warm, like your own personal furnace, and his face is so soft, the wrinkle between his eyebrows merely a crease now, but the little lines by his eyes are more apparent than ever from how much he’s smiling. You card your fingers through his hair, seeing how his eyes flutter shut at your touch, before he opens them again and you can see the fire in them all of a sudden. “What do you need, mama?”, he asks with his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses up and down your skin.

“Just you, always you,” you purr as your hand traces up his arm to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m here, angel,” he whispers and rubs his nose against yours, “You gonna have my baby?”

Mhmm, you nod, keeping your face close to his. That’s right, he says under his breath, “You're so beautiful, I love seeing you like this.”

The hand on your belly finds the back of your head, his thumb reaching under your jaw to tilt your face up and back, letting him kiss you, letting him lick into your mouth deeper and deeper as you roll your hips along his thigh. He pulls you closer by your hips, and his hand moves down to the front of your panties, gently tracing along your seam, a little whimper coming from your throat, desperately pleading for him to touch you properly. 

The sound clearly amuses him and he pulls down the front of the fabric just enough to slip his hand in and find your clit, starting to gently rub. “Feels good?”, he whispers as you dig your face into his neck, murmuring, very, as he finds the right spot and moves in slow little circles. He noses your hairline and your cheek as he dips into your opening, slides a single finger in, all the way to the knuckle, just to hear you whimper again when he retracts it, and uses your wetness to slide the pad of his finger around your clit, refusing to speed up despite your hips bucking and your moans getting more desperate. 

“Calm down, baby, just relax,” he whispers, “Focus on your breathing. You’ll come, don’t gotta worry, just enjoy it.”

You take a deep breath and stop squirming, hear his voice in your ear, good girl, and just feel him gently rub you as your clit swells with arousal, getting more sensitive every time he gathers more slick and continues to stimulate you slowly.

“You’re gettin’ close, though, huh, baby?”, he murmurs, and you nod carefully, your eyes closed and your leg laying over his hip completely limp. It feels like every nerve in your entire torso is being stimulated, little waves of pleasure emanating from where he’s touching you, until you slowly reach your peak and your orgasm washes over your entire body, muscles tensing tightly then going slack and loose. Atta girl. 

You pull back from the dark, warm space of his neck as he gently works his fingers inside you, and you kiss him softly, biting his bottom lip a little. “Will you fuck me now? Please?”, you plead, batting your lashes at him, “I did as you told me to, didn’t I?”

He chuckles a little as he slides your panties off and carefully opens your legs, removes his own boxers and places your leg back over his hip, teasing the head of his cock along your slit, lifting his head enough to watch your hips wind up against him. 

“Eyes on me, angel, eyes on me,” he whispers as he wraps his hand around your jaw and angles it up, forcing you to look at him while he slides deep into you, hitting the very end of your pussy, watching your brows knitting and your mouth hanging open. He has you in a complete trance, his eyes dark as ever, somehow still visible in the low light of his bedroom, and you can’t look away as your gaze is lost in his.

You’ve never felt closer to him than you do now, completely wrapped up in him and filled by him, his overwhelmingly big and muscular body setting the pace, his thick cock rocking into you. You love being at his mercy, being soft for him and letting him touch and lick and rub and fuck any part of you he wants. He knows your body like the back of his hand, knows just when he's hitting the right spot, when you're getting close, and when you need him to murmur filthy little words of encouragement to make you come. 

Just like that, he praises as he grinds into you, angling his body so his pelvis rubs your clit. Your little nub has been aching and throbbing for attention again already, fucking hormones and the mere presence of this painfully gorgeous man, finally getting relief as you feel the pressure from his groin pulling at your skin and exposing the most sensitive part of you to him. His thick hair tickles your outer lips and the constant friction on your clit gets you closer with little whimpers of his name. He keeps grinding, holding your jaw and looking into your eyes until your pussy flutters around him and you start squirming, hearing the rumble in his chest while you come on him. Such a good girl for me, huh? he whispers, and you moan, long and drawn out and guttural, his name somewhere in the mix but barely coherent. 

You muster up the energy to say what’s been on your mind since you woke up, what you’ve been meaning to tell him for a while now, since it dawned on you that he isn’t leaving, that he isn’t scared anymore, that all he wants is to be with you and be exactly what you and your baby need. There they are, right on the tip of your tongue, the words he’s been waiting to hear, falling from your lips while you take him deep inside you, suck him in and squeeze around him, I forgive you. I forgive you, Joel. He watches you as you ride the waves, his face softening as he cranes his neck down to whisper I love you so much, my angel, I’ll always love you, for the rest of my life and forever, I love you while you shake and tremble and dig your nails into his back. You murmur a weak I love you too before you turn into putty under him. 

“Can- can you fuck me deeper?”, you ask in the form of an exasperated whisper.

“You always want me deeper, don’t you?”, he’s so amused. He pulls you close, splaying his large hand over the small of your back, caressing your skin with his thumb. You giggle, mhmmm, and he pulls out of you, then uses both hands to gently flip you over onto your hands and knees, running his palms along the length of your back, stuffing a pillow under you to make sure you’re comfortable, and pressing kisses all the way down your spine.  

He slides back into you, smooths his hands across the globes of your ass while you adjust to the angle, and waits to hear you moan into the pillow before he speeds up, starting to pull your hips back onto him while he slams into you. He pauses for a second, spits a glob of saliva down onto your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb before slowly pressing his finger into you, hearing you groan in pleasure as he pushes it further in. The stretch and pressure makes your clit ache and your walls clench around him, whining for him to go faster, faster, please, while you bring your hand to yourself and start rubbing. 

“Fuck, baby, so tight,” he groans, “Rub that little clit for me, lemme feel you come around my cock." You try to moan in agreement, an incoherent mess at this point as you touch yourself with a shaky hand, feeling his cock hit just the right spot over and over and over, making you arch your back to take him deeper, as deep as he wants. My beautiful, good girl, so pretty he coos, pushing his thumb a little deeper, and you’re close, speeding up your movements until you come with a violent, full-body jerk, your asshole fluttering around his finger, and collapse onto your chest, legs only held up by Joel’s arm around your hips, folding you in half. 

“Can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, “The moment I saw you I thought you were the prettiest little thing I’d ever seen.” He squeezes the flesh of your ass with both hands, bending down to kiss between your shoulder blades while he sits back on his heels and pulls you into his lap, snaking an arm across your front to lift you up a little and wrap his hand around your throat while he fucks up into you slowly. You grab his thighs and lean your head back onto his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying how deep he is inside you, right where you crave him. 

“You feel so good, baby, so good,” he whispers, grunting and groaning as he slides his hand down your belly, coming down to right above your mound and pushing into your bump. You move together, feeling the energy circulating between you as you tilt your head sideways and catch his lips in yours, panting into each other while he pistons into you. “You’re gonna make me come, my love,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you squeeze as much as you can around him while he gives you a final thrust, and his warm, smooth load fills you while his cock throbs and pulsates deep in you, his accompanying growl creating goosebumps all over your body. 

-

“Are- are we together for real now?”, you ask with a hint of a laugh, “Can I call you my boyfriend?”

Joel scowls at you, smiling as she rolls his eyes. “I'm insulted if you haven't already,” he says, and you snort in response.

“What?” he asks, looking at your lips and back up at your eyes.

“I kinda already did… To my nosy students,” you admit, no louder than a whisper.

“Of course you did,” he mutters as he starts wrapping the duvet around you, “I’ll go make breakfast, just stay here till I come get you, okay, angel?”

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