#nothing against him personally he just reminds me of a classmate i had and i hated him <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[prime-adeptus]

KIRIIII sniffles tysm 🥹 and bruh 🚶🏽‍♂️ fawk aot marco on TOPPP rip kingie

yw!!! u deserve it <3 and yeah last i watched aot i was like 11, my favourites were marco and bertholdt and- yeah. JACKPOT!!!

[hiraethwrote]

AS I LIVE AND BREATHE

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : he thought time had extinguished any silly little feelings he'd had for you. that was way back in high school anyways. why would they linger when he didn't have you around to remind him? cw : just pure fluff, very self indulgent, kinda boring but idc, heavy pining, timeskip, set in 2016, flashbacks, reader is a uni dropout (lowkey me venting about dropping out lol), mild cursing, no use of y/n word count : 3.5k

He couldn’t help how his looks always used to linger — a generous gesture he had only spared you.

It wasn’t news to Tobio that he was notorious for being unapproachable. He had a permanent frown stamped on his forehead that always gave the impression that he was in no mood to interact with anyone. And if someone had been possessed with the spirit of engaging in small talk, he would keep his answers short and to the point. If the topic didn’t interest him, he saw no reason why he would waste his energy on it.

Eventually people just stopped trying, leaving him to live in his exclusive bubble where volleyball was the only thing that mattered — and that was enough for him.

However, you decided to go against the stream, ignoring the pinched eyebrows and standoffish demeanour.

It wasn’t anything big, but you just spared him something as simple as a smile. If he accidentally locked eyes with you across the classroom, or you passed each other in the halls, your lips would curl into the kindest smile before going on with your day.

At first he had thought you must have mistaken him for someone else, because why would you smile at him? You never really talked to each other, falling into the roles of simply being classmates.

But the tiny smiles continued, clearly meant for him. And what was probably just a meaningless act of kindness to you, had heat creep up his neck and colour his cheeks in dusty pink. Eventually he developed the tiniest hallway crush, eyes shyly seeking you out as he impatiently waited for you to catch him.

That’s where his courage stopped however. He knew he would never be brave enough to ever initiate a conversation, based on the few times words were exchanged between you and his mouth would completely dry out. You could come over to ask the most casual question of “do you have a pen I could borrow?”, and when he muttered a shy no, you simply went on to ask the next person, thinking nothing more of it.

Tobio would churn over the interaction for hours, hindsight supplying him with all the possible answers he could have given you.

Three years of a childish crush eventually came to an end when graduation rolled around. When separated, your smiles simply ceased to exist in his life and it was like a fog had lifted. He left Karasuno, and the crush evaporated into nothingness and he grew out of the childish infatuation.

That’s what he thought at least.

Right now, that very smile that had his heart race was staring back at him, identical to how he remembered it — turns out his infatuation had nothing to do with age, and everything to do with you.

Your deadpanned expression twisted into one of pleasant surprise when you spotted him. “Kageyama Tobio, as I live and breathe!”

Maybe he had always had a tiny glimmer of hope he would eventually run into you again — that being said, he was not prepared for that time to be now. Last he heard, you were basking in the glorious university life in Tokyo, attending some prestigious education he could only imagine getting into. You weren’t supposed to stand behind the counter of the quaint convenience store, much like you had done when you were sixteen.

What was even more unexpected was how you knew his name. Your interactions throughout your acquaintance had been so few and far between, he had just assumed you knew him as ‘that volleyball guy’ — but hearing his name spoken in the tune of your voice, travelling in cheerful waves, had his heart beat a little faster.

Despite his frozen stature, he let his eyes take in the scenery of you sat behind the counter. Your shoulders were close under your ears, the corporate fleece doing little to shield out the gushing cold air that occupied the store.

As unflattering as the white light above might have been, it did little to diminish your appearance which was prettier than he recalled — you looked very much like yourself, just slightly different. Every feature had turned more defined, the childlike curves slowly fading with time.

“There’s a face I didn’t think I’d see any time soon.”

Swallowing his nerves, praying his flushed cheeks wasn’t beyond obvious, he placed his items on the surface in front of you.

“Could say the same.” He wished he was brave enough to look at your face, wanting to take in all the subtle changes to your appearance. But he didn’t dare let his eyes rest on you for more than a few moments at a time, redirecting his attention to the rather interesting products he was purchasing, impatiently waiting for his heart to settle so he could act like a normal human being.

“Thought you were busy being a big shot volleyball player,” you teased, the obnoxious beeping of you scanning his items ringing in his ears. “What are you doing back home?”

He cleared his throat, hoping it would bring back some steadiness to it. “Just visiting,” nodding carefully as the words tumbled awkwardly out of him.

As he paid for his items, he tried to let his innocent urges control him and tilt his head to look at you — he had to greet the embarrassed redness to his cheeks like an old friend when he saw you already had your eyes focused on him.

“Are you in town for long?” You asked as you handed him the bagged groceries, your fingers brushing against his in a featherlight touch. It was so modest, he wasn’t even sure you felt it — he most certainly did.

“Just a few days.”

“That’s nice. A break from your hectic schedule.”

“I’ll still practice.”

Your smile widened as you pulled your sleeves over your hands, folding your arms and leaning forward on the counter. “Yeah, guess I kinda knew that.”

He felt so stupid, ogling you with big eyes as he racked his brain for all that he knew of small talk, and yet he blanked completely.

“Guess the life of a pro athlete never stops,” you said as you checked your wristwatch, probably waiting for the time to strike eleven so you could close up.

“No, not really.”

He sensed an awkward silence sneak in on the conversation, and he so desperately did not want it to end. And he spotted the slightest betrayal in your expression when your smile wavered for a split second — and he was convinced it was because you thought he was being weird.

With this opportunity served on a silver platter, he wanted to prove he wasn’t as socially inapt as he came across to be.

“You’re in Tokyo now, right?”

“Well, yes, technically,” you chuckled, undisclosed information hiding in your answer. It was uncontrollable how he quirked an eyebrow in confusion, though he quickly smoothened it in hopes he didn’t come across as rude. “Guess I’m home visiting as well. For a while.”

“And do you like it? Tokyo?”

“It’s definitely more my pace.”

That confirmed his suspicions, possessing a lively personality that seemed too big for this small town. He had always found you to have a soothing type of vibrancy that filled every room you walked into.

And your energy was infectious. He was still anxious beyond belief, but somewhere inside him he could sense that your presence had a calming effect on him. It possessed him with a flash of courage when he said “it’s nice seeing you again.”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise at his unexpected line, and for a moment he was sure he had messed up. He clenched his fists, waiting for you to laugh at him or tell him off.

He didn’t expect your smile to return, reigniting the butterflies once again. “Yeah,” you spoke softly, “yeah, you too.” The smile remained and the cute crinkles by your eyes deepened.

The conversation was once more drifting towards a close, and this time Tobio didn’t think he had it in him to resurrect it. He took a deep breath and presented you with a tight lipped smile, mumbling a quiet “see ya,” before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

He only had time to place his palm against the cool glass before you called his name. “Hey, Kageyama,” capturing his attention, eyebrows narrowed as he waited for your next words. “I close up in like ten minutes. Wanna walk me home?”

What? Had he heard you right?

You sunk your teeth cutely into your bottom lip, a tiny bit amused by how visibly his mind was racing to comprehend your request. “I would love to catch up more.”

His shoulders raised, as if this wasn’t the most stressful interaction he could ever remember being in, “sure.”

You gave him a look, one he couldn’t quite deduce the meaning of, while there was a sprinkle of mischief in your pursed smirk.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket so his nerves wouldn’t spill out in anxious fidgeting, while you started all your closing routines.

As subtly as he managed, he kept his attention on you, standing behind the register, counting the change as you quietly hummed along to the melody coming from the cheap radio behind you. Consuming his mind was the thought that you seems to fit perfectly into the impression he had created of you back in school — kind, generally keeping a smile on your face, really just trying to enjoy the day that was today.

Your head tilted down to check your wristwatch again as you let out a deep exhale, ridding yourself of the strain caused from the closing shift before you disappeared down one of the isles.

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he was still trying to mentally prepare himself for the walk home — he was probably never again going to get the chance to prove to you that he wasn’t as socially constipated and egocentric like everyone thought he was.

The lights shut off, and you emerged again, having changed out of the uniform and into a black hoodie. “Finally,” your head fell back playfully in light exasperation, hands rummaging through your bag before you pulled out your keys, “staying open until eleven on a Saturday should be considered a crime. There’s not a soul present the last hour.”

Tobio walked out the door first, and without even thinking about it, he simply held the door open for you. He had just acted on pure instinct, and didn’t reflect on it until you flashed him another one of your charming grins. As you mumbled quiet gratitudes, he spun his head away and retracted further into the neck of his jacket — if you were to look directly at him, you would definitely be able to see the generous flush spreading across his face.

“So, Kageyama Tobio,” you said nonchalantly, spinning the keys around your finger before tossing them in your bag again, “the olympics. Quite the achievement.”

“Thank you.”

You chuckled as you startled to fiddle with the packaging of a protein bar. “Never took you to be so humble,” you teased.

Turning to look at you again, he let his eyes be led by the protein bar heading for your mouth, before landing on your lips — your plump, glossy lips that looked so extremely soft. It wasn’t until you’d finished chewing and started talking again he was able to catch himself staring and avert his gaze back to the path ahead.

“I mean, from what I’ve seen of you on the court, it’s not the first word I would use to describe you.”

“You’ve seen me play?”

A deeper laugh escaped you, one that reactively caused a smile to grow on his face — he quickly wiped it away, too scared to lean into the feeling. “Of course I have. Several. Always having us at the edge of our seats. But you-“ you cut yourself off, pointing the bar in your hand at him.

Did you even have a clue what you were doing to him? His breath hitching in his throat, tense shoulders stiffening his arms when you so abruptly stepped ahead to walk backwards while always able to look at him.

“You, mister, got pride filling your every fibre when playing.”

Eyes widened at your compliment — because that’s what it was, a compliment. Not a comment with rude undertones, not a snarky statement to piss him off, but genuine admiration for his craft.

“You think so?”

“No, I know so. It’s quite obvious when looking at you.”

“Been looking at me quite a lot, have you?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

This time he surrendered to the urge to flash you a smile. It was a reserved one, however, barely able to spot how the corner of his lips tilted upwards — cute.

“Guess it’s not too long until you head for Rio, right?” You asked as you took another bite.

���In a couple of months,” he retracted his hands from his pockets to clutch around the strap of his bag. “Kind of a wonder they let me visit home.”

“Yeah, would think they’d have you locked up in the gym until you leave,” and you chucked again, a sound he quickly realised he really liked to hear.

He cleared his throat, slowly stepping into a more confident role. “When are you heading back to Tokyo?”

Your steps came to a halt, and he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked under the warm light from the street lamps, he nearly missed the uncertainty that traveled across your face.

Eventually it seemed you reached a conclusion, opening your mouth. “I don’t know, to be honest. Soon hopefully.”

“Studies going well?”

“No,” you hesitated, forcing a laugh. “In fact, they’re not going at all.” You could tell by the look on his face he was confused. “I dropped out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why it had so easily slipped past your tongue. Usually you had a hard time admitting it out loud, feeling the weighing sensation of disappointment from everyone you told.

However, there was something about Tobio that had you fall into a sense of comfort you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the fact that he was someone who wasn’t a complete stranger to your life, yet unfamiliar enough that he felt unrelated to everything going on.

“Do you regret it?”

It wasn’t the question you expected. People usually wanted to know why — why would you do that, and what were you to do now? Would you manage to find a job no when you had strayed from your original plan?

You let the question linger in the air for a moment before you answered, “no. I don’t.”

His chest raised as he took a deep breath, a welcoming and warm smile greeting you, one that was wider than the one he flashed you earlier. “Good.”

It was one word — just one word, yet it was loaded with a sense of understanding you had barely received when sharing your life changing news. It had you purse your lips to contain the overwhelming smile that was about to overtake your entire face.

The eye contact was intense, heart pounding a little harder by how surprisingly comfortable it felt, filling you with giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while.

“You know,” you cleared your throat as you turned your back to him and started walking again. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” It only took him a few seconds to catch up and walk along side you again. “You’re quite the character, Kageyama.”

He scoffed, pretending like what you said didn’t make his heart flutter. “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know, I always just assumed you would be like how you are when you play,” you sighed. “You’re so sure of yourself when you’re tossing. Very serene, if you will. Unless you were yelling at that little guy. Damn, what was his name? The ginger?”

Amusement twisted his expression. Not only because you knew Hinata as ‘the ginger’, but also because you had known his name, but not remembered his old teammate’s name despite him being considerably more outgoing than himself — Tobio was almost certain you’d had more conversations with Hinata than you had ever had with him.

“You talking about Hinata?”

“Yes! Him!” Excitement spilling out in your gestures. “Besides the point. My friend had a crush on one of your teammates, so she sometimes dragged me along to spy on your practices.”

He was slowly growing tired of how you had the blush lurking under his skin almost permanently, when he once again felt it approaching as he waited for the rest of your story. For the short time you had been walking, he had managed to find a somewhat steady presence, but the little confidence he grasped onto was hanging on by a thin thread. Whatever you were to say next threatened to sever it.

“There was a handful of times I witnessed you scream at the poor guy,” you laughed, nudging an elbow to his side.

Maybe he could latch onto the pleasant vibrations of your laugh to maintain his peace, trying not to let the memories of his outbursts crush him.

“It was a refreshing sight.”

Come on, Kageyama, give into the banter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you come with quite loaded statements?” He hoped he managed to smear his voice with sarcasm in order to hide the insecurity that tainted his words.

“Sorry,” trailing off with a soothing giggle. “Bad habit — what I mean is, it expanded the impression I had of you. You were always so quiet, minding your own business, much like you are now. When you’re playing, however, you’re emotional, if that makes sense?” You said with an awkward chuckle.

Was he dreaming? Was his ears playing a trick on him? Had you really been doing such an analysis of his character, enough to form an opinion that went beyond the impression he gave to most people?

He turned to look at you, locking eyes with you immediately — there was something so tender in your expression, gaze seemingly holding a deeper message he was eager, desperate, to unveil. But he struggled, too wrapped up in how your vibrant grin had transformed into a shy tilt. He couldn’t quite describe it, but it felt more genuine somehow — emotional, maybe, as you’d put it.

“Anyways,” breaking the eye contact, feeling an unfamiliar burning sensation tingle up your neck. You weren’t used to being flustered like this. “Yelling at Hinata, proved you’re more of a hothead than you let on,” trying to fall back to a casual tension, ignoring how the recent eye contact with his captivating blue eyes had stirred up the tiniest whirlwind inside you.

“Never thought you were so observant,” he quipped, and much like you, he tried to smother the boyish excitement you had caused.

“What? D’you go around thinking I was too daft or something?” There was a very evident joking manner to your tone, but didn’t seem like he picked up on it.

“What? No! That’s not-“

“I’m just playing with you, Kageyama,” you laughed, true melody to his ears.

“I just meant… of me.” He kept his eyes locked ahead, knowing his face was about to completely succumb to the blush that was so easily brought to the surface around you.

“Yeah, well,” he heard your deep sigh, “I don’t know. You stuck out to me, despite you trying your very best not to.”

All his experiences regarding you from his school days suddenly intensified — everything was put in a new light with this revolutionary information. No wonder he had found himself falling for you when there was an unspoken connection he wasn’t even aware of.

“This is me!” Your tone changed immediately, the sentimental energy evaporating into nothing but a memory. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He was fortunate enough to receive another of your characteristic smiles, those would probably always have an hypnotising effect on him, as you backed up towards the entryway of your house.

“My pleasure,” he said, trying his best to mirror the earnestness of your affection.

You had pulled out your keys again, “and I’ll make sure to tune in when you’re in Rio. Even if I have to get up in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe you’ll see some of that emotion you were talking about.”

“Oh, I’m betting on it,” you opened the door. “Good night, Kageyama.”

“You know,” he was quick to interject before you had the opportunity to disappear through the door. He swallowed his fear, “you can call me Tobio.”

A smile. “Good night. Tobio.” You held his gaze a second, and you were out of his sight.

tags : @hiraethwa

an : okay i am not so happy with it... the words were working against me on this one. might be bc i'm not familier with writing for hq yet but eventually. i have more hope in my next hq fic. it is also v boring, but it's more of a venting fic for how i feel about dropping out (it comes in waves yk)

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[writemekpop]

Let Me Love You | Lee Jeno

Summary: Jeno confesses he loves you, but you can't say it back. What happens when he finds out the truth?

Genre: College AU, established relationship AU, angst

Word count: 1k

It was your last class before the end of the year. After four years of college, you were about to graduate. Your entire class were sitting in a circle on the floor.  

You winked at your new boyfriend, Jeno. He grinned shyly back.  

“I thought it would be fun if we all said an anonymous message to a classmate. They’ll know who it is!” the professor said. 

Jeno took a deep breath and said, “I just wanted to say… I love you, and we’ll be okay, I promise.” 

Your heart began to race. Jeno… loved you? He kissed you every second you were alone. He sat for hours, stroking your head in your lap while you slept. But you’d only been dating two months – you had no idea he loved you already. 

It was your turn next. The words swirled around your head - I love you I love you I love you I love you - but it was like your throat was blocked. 

The professor repeated your name. You felt Jeno shift next to you. 

It was now or never. 

You forced out an “I…“ but then, you remembered the way you used to mumble, ‘You too’ every time your ex, Jaemin, said ‘I love you’, even though you didn’t mean it, you were just scared he would get angry. 

Did you love Jeno? Or were you just saying it? 

“Let’s move on,” the professor said. The moment was lost. 

For the rest of the hour, you couldn’t meet Jeno’s eye. Sweat stuck your cotton shirt to your spine. You had to be the biggest idiot in the world. Jeno was the perfect guy, and now you’d rejected him in front of everyone. 

At the end of the day, you ran to Jeno in your secret spot, by the cherry tree at the far end of the garden. 

Jeno had his hands in his pockets, his head hanging, and was kicking a stone again and again. 

“Jeno?” you said. 

Jeno slumped against the tree. “’Sup.” 

“You’re not mad, are you?”

Jeno kicked the stone again. “Nope. It’s all fine and dandy.”

You gulped. “Look, I’m so sorry. I- I wish I could make everything better.” Jeno’s eyes were hard. “You can’t fix this.” There was a lump in your throat, and you prayed you wouldn’t cry. “Look, I should have just said it! I do mean it!” 

Jeno looked up, brows furrowed. “What?” 

“I do love you! Of course, I do!” You gasped. “You’re kind and funny and like- gorgeous – and the only person I can actually be me around.” Jeno’s eyes widened. “You… love me?” 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say it back when you confessed in the class!” 

Jeno blinked. “Wait, what? Before, I- was talking about- my brother. Haechan! He got into some major trouble with our parents and… I wanted to remind him it’ll all be okay…”

Cold spread over your whole body. “You mean you didn’t say… you loved me?”

Of course Jeno hadn’t been talking about you. Why would he? You’d barely started dating – it was too soon for love! And now, you’d gone and confessed your feelings like an absolute fool. You’d scared Jeno off for life. 

Jeno bit his lip. “I can’t believe you thought - I was talking - about you…”

You cupped your face with your hands. “Ugh! I take it back. Please forget this ever happened.” 

Jeno said nothing. 

You were right. Jeno was probably going to run away from you at the speed of light. You braced yourself for the inevitable sting of rejection. 

But suddenly, you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist. You opened your eyes, and saw Jeno, his head tilted, peeking at you with a huge smile. 

“Don’t make fun of me…” you groaned. “I can’t take it.” Jeno smiled even wider. “I love you too, Y/n.” 

“I said don’t make-“ you started, then stopped mid-sentence. “You what?”

Jeno bumped your nose with his. “I love you. You’re basically my favourite person on the planet. I thought that was obvious.” 

Jeno’s gaze never left yours, steady and true. You wanted to pinch yourself. This had to be a dream. 

Jeno’s eyelids fluttered, and you realised how close you were to each other, your faces casting shadow on each other in the afternoon heat. Jeno moved closer, his eyes half-closing, and kissed you. 

Jeno’s soft lips on yours, his bubblegum flavour, was even more thrilling now you knew he loved you. You could have kissed him forever. 

When you pulled back, Jeno moved his lips to your ear. “You wuv me,” he whispered.

“Ew, no! That sounds so cringey!” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you go – he kissed your ear, your neck, your collarbone, repeating all the time, “you wuv meeee…” 

Somehow, you both collapsed on the ground, your limbs tangled in the dust. Jeno’s face was squished against the ground, his eyes staring deep into yours. 

“Never stop telling me you love me,” he said, his voice low. 

“I promise,” you whispered. 

—     

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[haine-kleine]

i thought the ending couldn't be more disappointing and then this japanese tweet proved me wrong

because all of this is true. Ochako and Izuku will never forget Toga and Tenko and half of their epilogue was about this, however messily done. Ochako dedicated herself to creating better conditions for people like Toga, because she saw how badly Toga was suffering and despite failing to save her and give her a brighter future, she committed to building that future on her own, selflessly gifting it to others. Izuku had failed to save Tenko despite wanting to, and this weights on his conscience eight years later, and will continue to haunt him in the form of Shigaraki's ghost watching him, not letting him forget himself in the happy ending of joining his hero classmates and achieving his dream.

it's still messy and unfaithful as fuck, but at least these two endings still show that the consequences were there. the unfair deaths of the villains weren't simply swept under the rug and forgotten after a few sad talks about them.

and the thing these two cases share in common? Ochako and Izuku really didn't owe it to Toga and Shigaraki to save them. they didn't. they were hero kids thrown in the middle of the war these very villains waged on them. they both were younger than their respective villains, they both were hurt by these villains, they had no prior history with them, and having shared a few conversations was enough to make them emphasize with and humanize the villains. nothing that happened to Himiko and Tenko was inflicted on them by Ochako and Izuku, and yet just seeing that, hearing about that was enough to ignite sympathy in their hearts. because, you know, they are heroes. they are there to save people from suffering. and even when those people are the ones actively hurting them and their friends, they are mature enough to set that aside and attempt to save their human lives.

enter the star of the show, the only character in this story who despite having committed truly villainous acts, is allowed to go consequences free without a single care in the world. Enji. the person who had single-handedly fucked Touya up to the point his mental state was too messed up even for AFO to deal with. he had given life to this baby, and he was constantly made aware of how badly his attitude is affecting this child by Rei. and he couldn't be bothered to do anything for him, not even to look at him. the fire on Sekoto was 100% Enji's fault, not only because he couldn't be bothered to come visit his son on his day off when Touya had asked him to, but also because the number two hero on his day off was too slow to come to the forest near his house to save Touya from the fire or from All for One. this makes Touya being kept under AFO's care for the following 3 years Enji's responsibility, as he was the only one who could have saved Touya from AFO. even after Touya wakes up from his coma and immediately runs to his house as fast as he can, it's Enji's behaviour alone that makes him decide against making his presence known to the family for the following 7 years. this excuse of a father can't even mourn the death of a son he explicitly blames himself for in such way that won't make his entire existence feel meaningless to him.

and after Touya reveals himself to Enji personally as Dabi? he proves that he still hasn't changed at all and utterly fails to do anything about the situation while Shouto has to repeatedly remind him of it. not only was he procrastinating, the narrative was coddling him the entire time, with the support of other heroes and sidekicks, who despite being shown the truth about Enji, choose to ignore it. even the family he has been abusing for years, the family who was mourning Touya together, joins their efforts to support Enji.

Touya's only desires were to be seen and to be heard. both went unanswered, as after showing the world the unfiltered truth of the misery his father had caused to him, the world covered their earths and turned away. after showing himself to his family, they keep looking at Enji, not at him.

even at the very end, the end of the family's hell is more about Enji than about any other character. he is the only one allowed to talk about his feelings in depth, while the rest of them are reduced to barebone imitations of their previously established characters used as props for supporting Enji's character resolution (with the exception of Touya, who is physically unable to speak for longer than 5 minutes a day anymore. wow). even Natsuo cutting off Enji is less about the latter being a horrible excuse of a father and more about Enji's great stoicism accepting everything the family throws at him with a heroic face. Rei's character no longer makes sense because exactly a month ago her mental state and the trauma inflicted on her by this very man didn't allow her to face him at all. and now she is suddenly okay with becoming his caretaker? why is she taking her responsibility for Touya and not talking about Enji's responsibility at all? this was a man who had abused her so badly she had a psychotic episode. you don't just shrug off things like this. you don't sit in a psychiatric ward for ten years after that, waiting to be let out and jump on the first chance of making yourself useful for your abuser. you don't set aside the relationships with the children he had hurt and he had made you hurt to devote yourself fully to your damn abuser. someone take this poor woman out of this Stockholm syndrome relationship.

at this point Touya not being allowed to die is the worst offence, because the survival wasn't granted to him to heal. it was given to him for the singular purpose of making Endeavor look slightly less bad. Enji never even talks about failing to save Touya (and neither is Shouto allowed to). if you wanted to save him, then him being stuck immobile and isolated from the world with only months left to live is not 'the time Shouto gave us with him' it's a failure. he's not your damn pet, why is the narrative making him into one?

Touya had wanted to die. Shouto points this out, Touya himself talks about it. Enji was the one who didn't want him to die. he also didn't want to die himself. somehow, his desire is the only one that is fulfilled, while even Shouto's dream of eating soba with his older brother goes ignored.

and afterwards? Enji happily moves on from this with the new family he had found for himself, while Touya's childhood desire of his family looking at him is fulfilled in the most grotesque way possible. and the family's dream of having a home away from Endeavor? not a chance lmao

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

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He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

thought you might enjoy this one, raven ;) how about headcanons of rollo and malleus who are crushing hard on g/n reader but the twist is that reader is dating/in love with their mortal enemy...THE OTHER GUY. what will rollo and malleus do? try to steal reader away to spite the other person? I eagerly await to see what you'll do with this prompt!!!

*rubs hand together* They're both emotionally repressed and silly little guys that I will happily torment 😈 This prompt reminds me of fjsbsjxvksnwkw this video…

I can now use Dorm Uniform artworks for the banners, yay--

Curiouser and Curiouser…

Emo Boi era? Emo Boi era.

Malleus is used to being alone. He’s used to it and yet… it has never felt this frigid, with needles of ice that prod his skin and scales with each step, the loneliness seeping into his blood and bones. The chill always comes when he sees you with Flamme—smiling, laughing—or when you turn down his invites to walk alongside him. “I already have plans with my boyfriend,” you’d say, and he’s encased in ice. “Sorry, maybe another time?”

It’s not just him that experiences the consequences of his gloomy mood. His classmates and the immediate surrounding environment also suffer. When Malleus passes, he brings with him angry thunder or hail the size of golf balls, floods the hall or brings a blanket of snow up to your knees. Everyone walks on eggshells, scared to do or say something to set him off.

He retreats from those rejected outings and spends the evenings alone, walking around campus to hit up all the gargoyle spots. Malleus laments to the gargoyles (and to Gao-Gao Dragon-kun), sharing about his romantic troubles. On the days when his mood is so sour he cannot even take his usual strolls, Malleus holes up in his bedroom with a blanket and a tub of ice-cream. He'll pout and indulge in the sweet frozen treat to chase off his sorrows, all while watching historical dramas and soap operas to temper his envy.

He savors the little victories, times when he’s able to have you for a moment of solidarity. Nothing is quite as enchanting to him as seeing how the sun blooms in your eyes when he performs what he considers such minor tricks—sparks of light that dance in the palm of his hand, a flower pulled from midair. (He considers flexing his magic small acts of revenge against Flamme too.)

... How is it, then, that you smile brighter still with him, when he abstains from the miracle of magic? The frustration is enough to make the light flicker out, and the flower crumble into ash. It’s not fair, Malleus thinks, that Flamme should come in to steal away the one I’ve had my eye on long before he has. Dragons can be territorial and possessive creatures—and you’re the treasure he’s guarded for so long.

His retainers awkwardly try to comfort him. Silver isn’t quite sure what to say, Lilia gently reminds Malleus that there will be others that take his breath away (“If you love them, then you must also learn to let them go,” Lilia had sagely advised)… and Sebek is Malleus’s personal hype man. He goes on for hours and hours about how “the human has poor taste in men!!”, shit talking Rollo, and extolling his young master. At one point, Sebek even advises that Malleus reveal Rollo’s misdeeds to you just to prove “the difference in nobility” between the two.

Malleus would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered any and all options. All it would take is the wave of his hand to decimate any rival, mage or no. Perhaps he could spin a curse to drive the others off, or simply whisk you away under the cover of night. But the longer he lingers on the ideas, the more they make his heart ache. No, he cannot bring any of them into fruition—he can't bear to see your happy expression shift to that of fright, the same way everyone else seems to regard him. Caving to his basest desires—it would be proof of the monster they see in him. It would make Rollo right.

It would be discourteous of me to intervene in another's personal affairs. It's his final decision, the mantra he recites to himself over and over and over again. Let go, and move on. Let go, and move on. Yet in his heart of hearts, he has not accepted it, cannot cut away the last of the threads that bind his feelings to you. Malleus is plagued by fitful nights, dreams that manifest as if just to mock him. In them, you're always shrouded in white, at some faraway altar. No matter how fast he runs or flies, he can never reach you. Other times, he's been forgotten entirely, not invited to the ceremony at all. Cast off into the darkness or a bog or an enchanted wood to stew and brood all alone.

He'll wake in a cold sweat and with an agonizing roar that shakes the entire castle. When Lilia and the others rush to his chambers to check on him, they find it in disarray. Items are thrown everywhere, the comforter cast off and the bed a mess from tossing and turning, ugly claw marks running across his curtains... The chandelier has fallen, the green-tipped candles of it catching the fabric on fire—and there he is, kneeling amid the flames, clutching at his head, his heart.

"Leave me be," Malleus snarls at his retainers. He knows the flames will not harm him, and they know it too. The least he can do is spare them from witnessing him in such a pathetic, distraught state. It’s over, isn’t it? He, the fearsome dragon, has lost to some self-righteous “hero”. His fairy tale’s happily ever after is impossible.

He’s coping… coping and seething—

At first, Rollo thinks you must be mad, or playing the part in some cruel prank. How can anyone genuinely be attracted to such a repulsive, despicable villain like Malleus Draconia? He cannot fathom it—yet the longer be observes, the more frightening the truth becomes: those feelings of yours are genuine. Rollo then concludes something even more wild: that Malleus as bewitched you, cast some sort of dark magic that clouds your common sense. After all, how can you not see that Malleus is so very, VERY wrong for you?

Whenever possible, Rollo tries to preach, to warn you about dealing with the devil (yes, he outright calls Malleus that) and giving into temptation. He furiously implores you to reconsider, to think of your soul and to salvage it. Alas!! His words only fall on deaf ears. He curses, thinking Malleus’s enchantment far too powerful for him to overcome through typical means. Still, Rollo shall not relent.

His digs and sleights directed at Malleus seem to only become more hateful. When they cross paths in the hallway, Rollo makes it a point to purposefully bump into him on the shoulder--and you can bet this man doesn't hold bad when it comes to the insults. (Sebek tends to yell back in Malleus's defense, while all Malleus does in response is tut and tighten the arm he has wrapped around you.)

Rollo remains cordial to you (though you're not free from his lectures about how you should "renounce Malleus Draconia's hand"). He's still very much resistant to any sort of affection you try to demonstrate for him, be it verbal, physical, or otherwise, often shooing it away or deeming it "salacious". However, he's quick to change his tune if Malleus happens to be nearby, enduring your compliments and brief touches as he fights a blush from creeping onto his face. The blush is something he hastily conceals with his handkerchief and insists is "just the weather" or "a fever", nothing more than that.

There are instances when Rollo wonders why he's dedicating so much time and effort into saving one puny, pathetic person. His cause is so much greater than that, and yet he cannot tear himself away. Perhaps, he reasons, you are just that pitiful, and he feels sorry for you to fall victim to Malleus's machinations again and again. In his mind, Malleus is the monster that has kidnapped some innocent royal, and he, Rollo, is the saint sent to liberate them. Why is it, then, that he also sees your face everywhere even when he doesn't mean to? It's maddening to gaze into his fireplace and jolt back, thinking he has seen a ghostly face in the flames.

Much to Rollo's chagrin, his aide and vice president (and even the entire gaggle of enchanted NBC gargoyles) offer their unsolicited romantic advice. They demonstrate their unwavering support in other ways as well, often sneaking about to check on their beloved prez and making an effort to speak highly of him specifically in your presence. The gargoyles also (annoyingly) try to set a "romantic ambience" up by singing and tossing glitter down on you and him when you happen to speak. They're the wingmen Rollo didn't ask for--

It's ridiculous that they would think I have even a passing interest in seeking intimate companionship, Rollo quietly seethes. He doesn't understand where anyone would get that impression of him from. But everyone around him, even the folks of the City of Flowers, can see it for themselves. Rollo seems haunted by something, always looking over his shoulder with a longing in his eyes. The line between disgust and desire are gradually blurring, in spite of the man himself not recognizing it for what it is.

Rollo becomes increasingly frustrated that you refuse to listen to him, that you continue to hang all over Malleus like some brainwashed thrall. He doesn't even know what he's mad at anymore. At Malleus, for taking you for himself? At you, for being so stupid? At himself, for not being strong enough to bring you back to your senses? Maybe it's all three. It's become an obsession now, never too far from his mind and always gnawing away at his every thought. This fire under his skin, the urge to sin, sin, sin… He feels like he's going crazy--

When the anger has finally swallowed his sanity, Rollo, numb, comes to a singular dark conclusion: it's not him, it's you. It was always you, because all this time, you were in on this ruse. Of course. It was so obvious. How could he have not realized it before? You must be a mage too, one that had cast a horrible curse upon him, made him go mad with desire. Dangerous—you were dangerous, and he had to be rid of you just like he had to be rid of Malleus Draconia. For the world's sake. For his own sake, before fanning flames converged into another inferno.

And so he calmly takes out a plain white letter and matching envelope, penning an invitation to you. He asks you to come visit him in the City of Flowers, that he will be waiting for you at the top of the bell tower. You appear here as requested, and you’re greeted with an offer most ominous: choose him or Malleus; be his or burn like the wicked being that you are. There’s no humor to Rollo’s eyes, only a fervent fire blazing in the darkness. He awaits your answer, ready to cast his judgment soon after.

[overtaken-stream]

α!Gagamaru Gin x Gn! β!Reader headcanon

Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure don't @ me.

Warnings: Gagamaru is a bit weird, Silly even(he's insane)

There is always that distinctive scent lingering on you, the smell that you try to explain but your vague ability stops you from pointing it out precisely. It must be strong if your nose can pick it out. So misty, cold, and incredibly familiar. No matter how many times you wash the school uniform and scrub your skin red, it comes back the next day, at what time you can never point it out, however, it's evident that it's from school.

Gin is all-natural through and through (except when it comes to his hair), and the perfumes often irritate his sensitive nose, same with sweet-smelling shampoos and body wash, he believes that they are artificial smells that stain people's true character, he has also found that those who use fake odors have many insecurities to hide, be it their second gender or their natural aroma is an unfavored one in society, it does not bother him, but he has never favored deceit. Gin believes that his smell is quite pleasant, probably influenced by all the time he and his family spent hiking when he was a pup. It reminds him of the scent of rain, petrichor was what the doctor called it when he presented. A compliment that his brain only remembered because of the correct adjective used to describe his recently discovered asset.

He remembers it all too well, the overwhelming mix of raw and false fragrances in his middle school class, packed in a classroom with no windows open. He couldn't help the scrunched nose showing on his face every day, trying to find clean air to breathe without the biological chemicals burning off his nose, for the first time in his life, Gin could clearly express his emotion all thanks to newly flowered instincts and his personal preference. It was a shame it had to be distaste. As a pup, he dreamed of having long limbs to hike with, cross the rivers, and climb on rocks without his father helping him, but if this is what it's like to be a grown-up, smelling all the smelly smells that smell bad or good, he would rather be a pup forever.

His keen hearing and eyesight are no match for his sense of smell, but now he could pick out his parent's residual odor on the school campus, hours after they've left.

Maybe it was his bias that made him favor Betas more than Omegas and Alphas, the natural and soft undertones in a society full of suffocating chemicals were liberating for Gin.

His nose was able to smell the uplifting aroma that you contained, weaker than ever hidden behind countless scents. It stayed like that between you and Gin, him enjoying your smell from the other side of the classroom while you took notes and never glanced in his direction, your nose is weaker than others, never truly being able to sense the intense pheromones swirling around.

His communication is not the best, however, he does not care enough to improve it anymore. Some view his nonchalant attitude and simple words as a negative trait. He wonders what you will think of it.

With a bag tossed over your shoulder, you stroll the chilly hallways, getting closer and closer to your destination. But just as you are about to grab ahold of the handle to open the door to the classroom, it harshly unlocks itself. An unexpected occurrence makes you softly jump on your feet before even noticing the figure standing on the other side, staring down at you with a curious tint in his round eyes, he casts a shadow on you.

``Oh I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone...`` He says.

``It's okay...`` There is not a lot to say about him, even if you are his classmate, you don't know much about him and are not planning on knowing. As you make room for him to pass, you can feel his shoulder press against yours before he finally frees the entrance and walks away from the class. It was a confusing experience, but nothing to note of.

Gin figures that his favorite activity is scenting, his mother and his father were the first people he tried to scent, and kept their scent on him as an eleven-year-old pup up til the last year of middle school.

He is aware that leaving his pheromones on your clothes isn't the best strategy, but neither is leaving his scent on your skin while knowing nothing of you. He hopes that maybe he can change that, perhaps you will recognize that the cold smell comes from him.

Gin is a person who listens to his instincts, it's a skill needed for his beloved hobbies, however lately as you come to school without his scent, the active feeling of annoyance is hard to miss, he wants nothing but to drag you into his bed and cover you with himself, until your nose smells nothing but him on you the whole week, til someone can't differentiate Gagmaru from you. Gin wants nothing but to become one with you in those mornings. It's a shame he can only touch a part of you "accidentally" for it.

He wonders if his scent ever comforts you.

Gin will always find a way to scent you no matter what, so you might as well stop trying to clean it and start seeking him out since he is the only one whose scent matches with the one clinging to you.

The nonchalant alpha has never taken any bait thrown his way, so when his classmates start looking judgemental of his actions, Gin never remembers their words, he has already answered them once and Gagamarus don't like repeating themselves.

Maybe that's how you got to the bottom of your situation, rumors and rude words about him flying through the school until they finally got mingled with your name. So that's all he had to do to make you approach him? Hmh.

You speak so calmly when he left no roundabout way for you and made you go straight to the point.

You ask him to stop scenting you?

He likes you, maybe even loves you.

You don't believe in love at sight?

That's okay, he'll make you believe it.

The next day he puts his plan to work and brings only the best snacks for you to enjoy during lunch. Try to be nice after all, it's his first time courting someone.

[bumblesimagines]

Jordan Li

fancy running into you here.

do you have a second to talk?

fancy running into you here.

do you have a second to talk?

Pronouns: He/Him/His, Male!Reader

Going on a whim by saying Jordan's parents are fully traditional

You watched your fellow classmates, teachers, and parents mingle around, many of them desperate to make connections with richer folks who could be their stepping ladders into getting more invested in the Supe world. It always made you roll your eyes watching parents desperate to make a buck off their kids as if forcing them to have life-altering abilities hadn't been enough to sedate their greed. You'd long lost your own family in the crowd after having slipped away with the excuse of needing the bathroom. Not many classmates had been as smart as you. 

"Fancy running into you here." A familiar voice chimed from beside you, familiar enough for you to continue looking forward and sigh into the cup of vodka Cate Dunlap had so graciously gotten for you. Jordan slipped their hands out of their pockets and plopped down on the seat beside you, one hand reaching out to grab the glass cup from you and drink as well. Licking their lips, they asked, "Do you have a second to talk?"

"With you?" You turned your head to look at them and reached over to take your cup back. "Nah, I don't think so, Jordan. I'm a little busy at the moment."

Jordan rolled their eyes and leaned their arms against their legs, their eyes flickering over your features. "Doing what, exactly? Avoiding your parents?"

"You'd know a thing or two about that." You muttered, pouring the rest of the contents into your mouth before setting the cup aside and dabbing at your lips with the sleeve of your shirt. Jordan grimaced for a second, their eyes flickering away to search the crowd for the people they called Mom and Dad. 

"(Y/N), I just want to talk-" 

"And I don't, Jordan. There's nothing to talk about."

"There's a lot to talk about." Jordan snapped. "You ghosted me and then I learn from Cate that it's over? What the hell was that about?"

Truthfully, you had been rather... immature about dumping Jordan Li. Sure, instead of ghosting and ignoring them for a week or two and then asking innocent bystander Cate Dunlap to relay a break-up message to someone who had a hint of a bad temper and super strength in their masc form you could've sat with Jordan and spoken like adults, but you'd been left feeling pretty pissed off with them. Pissed off enough that you'd accidentally broken one of the water fountains without meaning to the day before deciding to go ghost. It wasn't completely your fault water naturally reacted to your emotions.

"I did you a favor, Jordan." You told them bitterly, sitting up in your seat. You doubted they'd let you leave so easily, especially with their hawk eyes trained and focused fully on you. 

"By leaving me out of nowhere? You know what's worse than being dumped over text? Someone else telling you that you've been dumped, (Y/N). At least Cate felt bad when she told me. You pretended I didn't even exist!" Jordan huffed, their leg beginning to bounce and their jaw visibly clenching. 

"I should've been doing that from the get-go seeing as you weren't even happy about being with me." You sneered and they blinked, eyes widening and shoulders slumping. Jordan immediately stood up and set their hands on the armrests of your chair, their fingers digging into the soft velvety fabric as they caged you in. 

"You were the first fucking person to accept me. Shit, you- you're the whole reason I even felt comfortable coming out, (Y/N)! First day of school I was shitting a brick and then you had the fucking nerve to look me in the eye and tell me I was pretty. And then you said it again when I showed you my other form. Of course, I was fucking happy with you. You're the only person I don't feel insecure around."

"Should I remind you that you were the one who said I was 'just a classmate' when your parents visited? You didn't even want to call me a friend in front of them!" You reminded them, fingers curling around the collar of their shirt and pushing them back until you could stand. You released them, noticing Dean Shetty making her way over in quick strides. Jordan's face fell completely, their brows lifting slightly at your words. "You don't want to tell your parents you also like guys? Great, take your time. But at least let me know you're going to treat me like a damn stranger when they're around so I know it's not a serious relationship." 

"(Y/N)-"

"There's plenty of people who'll date you and be your little secret, Jordan. I'm not one of them."

[maxdibert]

I think, out of all the insults antis throw at Snape, calling him homophobic is top-tier when it comes to stressing me out. I saw your response, and honestly, how can someone think like that? They literally write Barty as some poor, uwu, misunderstood little thing who suffers so much, when canonically, the man is completely unhinged and has a twisted obsession with Voldemort. The others are so irrelevant that some are barely even mentioned by name in the books.

"Oh, but Snape is homophobic, I can feel the vibes." You mean the same Snape who wore his mother's clothes? The same Snape who is described as having feminine handwriting? The same Snape J.K. Rowling herself said "wanted both Lily and Mulciber"? I'm pretty sure we're not even talking about the same character at this point.

Headcanons and fanon are great, really. But it's frustrating how people create nonsense, based on absolutely nothing, just to justify liking a character — and in the process, they turn them into complete idiots to make them more "acceptable." Like, your favorite character is an asshole. Embrace it. Don't strip away what makes the character good in the first place.

I mean, I can deal with people calling him racist and fascist because at least I can understand where that’s coming from. I can deal with the whining about how bad of a teacher he was because, honestly, being a jerk is basically his personality throughout the entire series. But homophobic? Or some kind of sexual predator? Where the hell are they getting that nonsense from when Petunia mocks him for wearing women’s clothing? When one of the reasons the narrative treats him pejoratively is precisely because his appearance, mannerisms, and interests don’t conform to the masculine standards of the time?

So you’re telling me that Sirius Black, who is described 800 times by Rowling as the ultimate macho man—because she was obsessed with reminding us over and over again that Sirius was the perfect alpha male who loved motorcycles and had pictures of half-naked women on his walls—can be turned into some kind of twink LGBTQ+ icon. But Severus, who is humiliated by guys like Sirius specifically because he isn’t as macho, aggressive, or traditionally masculine, is the homophobic heteronormative one here?

That Remus Lupin is basically considered a gay icon despite being a more realistic representation of a middle-aged man in crisis who sleeps with younger women, gets one of them pregnant, and then takes off—but the one who’s supposedly a predator and a creep is Severus, who bowed his head and walked away the moment Lily cut him off? Or that James Potter, who is canonically described as stripping a classmate in front of everyone to boost his ego, and who even blackmailed Lily by saying he’d stop bullying her friend if she agreed to go out with him, is somehow turned into the tragic hero of magical Brokeback Mountain? But the one who’s painted as some kind of sexual aggressor is Severus, who was literally the victim in those situations?

What the hell is wrong with these people?

You like the Marauders and want to erase their personalities and invent completely new ones to excuse yourself for whitewashing bullies and abusers? Fine. You want to take the biggest representations of toxic traditional masculinity in the series and paint them in rainbow colors? Great. But don’t excuse all of them, don’t slap a coat of paint on all of them, don’t even justify a psychopathic torturer and Voldemort fanatic like Barty Crouch Jr. just because he fits the Pinterest face claim you’ve chosen for your wet dreams, while villainizing and tearing down only one character—the one who actually has, by nature, all the qualities you’re trying to force onto the others.

And especially not when that character has canonically been abused at home, at school, discriminated against for his appearance, his background, his lack of money, and for not being “masculine” enough.

Honestly, they and their disgusting classism can go to hell.

[hauntedwitch04]

can you please do a plus size reader insecure with dean winchester?

Perfect

Dean Winchester x plus size!Reader 

Words: about 2.1k words 

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy times since we are talking about Dean so they are obviously there.

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea and I hope you like how it came out!

p.s. I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. Ever since I was a little girl, I was never a very skinny kid, and on more than one occasion I was teased by my classmates when I was in middle school, so I let myself go and put a little bit of me in the one-shot.

Always remember that it is normal to have good days and bad days, but the important thing is not to let the bad days have it. Keep fighting until the end, because losing a battle does not matter, what is important is to win the war. Everyone is perfect and beautiful in their own way, and your body does not define the person you are.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

Requests are open I Ask

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You look at that slice of cake for the umpteenth time, and you can't help but hear that voice in your head again, evil, whispering all your lifelong insecurities.

Dean has been talking to a girl at the counter for a few minutes, and you can't help but notice how thin she is compared to you, how beautiful she is by the standards society imposes today, standards you have never respected.

You were never a very skinny girl, in fact from a very young age you had your curves, but that never appeared to be a problem until that obnoxious part of your life where children grow up and become teenagers, and that makes them bad there.

For the first time you realized at the age of eleven that your physique was different from the other girls near you, and for the first time you felt different, and that feeling you know deep down never went away.

You tried a thousand diets, and just as many exercises to lose weight, but it almost seemed as if your body didn't want to, so you learned to live with your body. In the beginning it was not easy, you had to face many battles, some you won and some you lost, but somehow your bitter enemy, the figure that is reflected in the mirror every morning, watching you live, judging all the actions you do, is always with you and you cannot get rid of it.

When you first met Dean you were sure that he would not give you a second glance, and that in the event nothing more than a simple friendship would arise as much as you were attracted to the attractive hunter, but against all expectations, only after a few months of knowing you he asked you out and confessed that he was madly in love with you, and that he could no longer live a second of his life. It had been such a strange moment: he was going on and on about all the romantic movies, books, and TV series he had seen himself during that time to find the perfect way to tell you everything he felt and that he finally did it in the bathroom of a movie theater after you had been attacked by a demon while watching a movie; on the contrary, you had remained silent the whole time, wondering how such a handsome, kind, funny, caring, and any other positive adjective in the human vocabulary, man could feel anything for you.

You had realized you were stuck, when waking up from that transe state you had seen him looking at you frightened, and you couldn't help but ask him, with tears in your eyes, "Why me, you could have anyone you want? Why should you only want me, you deserve better." You say sobbing, trying to hold back the tears, not wanting to show him the inner struggle you were fighting all the time with the same voice that is bringing you down today. He had taken your chin in one of his strong hands, made you lift your face and looked straight into your eyes. In those big green eyes you felt as if you could see a meadow in which you could run free of all thought, free to be whoever you wanted to be, and that is what Dean is to you after all, a safe haven in which to seek comfort.

"I want you, and you alone. And already that is a selfish thought, because love, if anyone does not deserve the other it is me, because you are perfect and I am everything but perfect, and I know you deserve so much better, and yet I am selfish and I cannot help but love you and want you to be mine and only mine." Said the man in front of you before kissing you. Immediately you melted like ice cream in the sun in his arms, and you returned the kiss with all the passion and eagerness you were willing to let him know that his feelings were reciprocated. His warm, fleshy lips on yours moved to the rhythm of a dance that only you seemed to know. After a few minutes we parted, needing to breathe again, but both of you had two silly smiles on your faces, of two people stupidly in love with each other, unable to hide it from the world for a second longer. "I have Jane Austen and her Mr. Darcy to thank next time I see her in heaven. Or was it in hell?" Whispered Dean chucklingly before resting his forehead on yours.

"Winchester, we would have a demon to exorcise in the other room." You reminded him, laughing at his earlier statement, before punching him lightly in the chest. "And don't ever make fun of Jane Austen again, I love her books and I won't let you do that." You continued, pretending to give him a dirty look.

"Why do you think I read them?" He replied, winking at you before leaving the room to go deal with the demon, whom you had almost forgotten about.

A voice suddenly brings you back to reality. You look up from the pie in front of you and see Sam's worried eyes trying to decipher your thoughts, which, like a hurricane, are flowing fast in your eyes, too fast to be understood.

"Hey, are you okay?" The smallest Winchester asks you, with a tugged smile, as if you had forgotten how to smile and he wanted to help you learn it again. You then try to smile back at him and nod, not having the heart to tell him that today the battle in the mirror between you and your reflection was won by the mirror, and that as of this morning you feel like crap emotionally, because you feel like crap about your own body.

"I'm just tired, and I'm not very hungry. I think I'll give it to Dean, after all, he's always happy to have a little extra cake." You say trying to be convincing. In fact, it's been about five days since you've really been able to put anything under your teeth, after seeing a girl flirting with Dean in a bar in the town of your last case. Dean had immediately declined the girl's attentions, saying that he was committed to you and loved you, but a self-defense mechanism had sort of been triggered in your brain, telling you that if you didn't want to lose the only person you'd ever really loved in the world, you had to lose weight, and so you started not eating, obviously in secret from Dean.

The lack of food in your stomach has also brought you immense fatigue, in fact you don't even realize that you have left the diner and are now in the car from how foggy your brain is. As soon as you sit in Baby's seat, sleep takes over your body, so much so that you don't even feel Dean pick you up and carry you inside to your motel room. You awaken hours later on the bed you and Dean have been sharing since you arrived in this town, but neither he nor Sam can be seen.

Slowly you get up and drag yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light and immediately a figure is revealed to you in the mirror. You don't even look like yourself anymore, your skin is white and emaciated, so much so that it looks like that of a ghost; the black circles under your eyes are more pronounced than usual, and an immense sadness shines through your eyes, yet you can't help but be happy to see that your face looks slightly slimmer than it did a couple of days ago. Bitter tears run down your face knowing that being happy about that thing is not right, and that what you are doing is not good for your health, yet you cannot stop that little voice in your head from speaking.

Suddenly you hear the bathroom door open and see before you the frightened and confused face of your boyfriend, who looks at you shocked, seeing the tears on your face. Quickly he approaches you, asking if you are hurt and taking your face in his hands. You try hard to pull away from him, but you are not strong enough. You don't want him to feel your impefect body, he doesn't deserve it, yet he continues to hold you in his arms, while a hand gently strokes your back, trying to calm you down.

"Love, what's going on? Why are you crying? What can I do to help you?" Dean whispers to you, in turn with tears ready to run down his cheeks not knowing how he can take away the pain you are feeling so intensely.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm really sorry. I've tried, but I can't." You sob, against his shoulder, stopping fighting him and letting yourself go into his embrace.

"What did you try to do love?" The elder Winchester asks with a veil of fear.

"I tried to be a better girlfriend, I tried to lose weight, but I can't. The voice is right, I don't deserve you, I never deserved you. I don't know how you can really love someone like me." You continue crying, falling to your knees, accompanied by his strong arms, as he follows you, also kneeling on the floor. Your figures seem to merge in this embrace, as you tell him of all your insecurities, of the evil voice that dwells within you and hinders your every hope for happiness, and how these days you have preferred to starve yourself in order to be a girl worthy of being seen at Dean Winchester's side. He listens to you in silence, as tears furrow his face and fall silently on your hair, since he has his chin resting on top of your head, while you hide your face in his chest seeking the comfort of his heartbeat and his scent as you open your soul to him on the motel floor of a godforsaken town.

When you're done, you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your heart lighten, and uncertainly you look into Dean's eyes and see his sadness, and immediately feel guilty knowing that you are the cause of that feeling. In a moment as if he is reading your mind, however, he immediately stops you and reassures you.

"Love, first of all, the next time you hear this voice or these feelings inside you, don't hesitate and come to me right away, because I love you and I don't want to see you suffer like this and you know that I am always there for you, no matter what, even if you just have to ask me why the color blue is blue at three o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, I am always there for you, I am your love slave." Says the hunter, kissing the last tears streaming down my face. "And secondly, you don't have to change in any possible universe, because you in each of them are perfect as you are. There is not one thing about you that I don't love madly: your hair, your eyes, your intelligence, your laugh, your body-oh God don't get me started on how your body drives me crazy, because believe me I could start a new religion just to worship you as the goddess you are. Every day I have to hold myself back from kissing every inch of your body, from screaming to the world that you are mine, that the best woman in the world is in love with me, and I still don't understand how that is possible. There is not one thing you do that is not perfect in my eyes, and even now I still think that never on earth and in heaven has there been a more perfect being than you, so please don't ever again believe what your brain tells you and believe me." He continues, as he looks into your eyes. You have never felt so loved in your life. The only thing you want to do is thank him, but no words come out of your mouth, so you kiss him, showing him how you feel about him. Slowly Dean gets up, taking you in his arms, not breaking the kiss. Only when you reach the front of the bed and he drops you on it, your lips part and he says a few words.

"I would say it's time to prove that I wasn't joking when I said I would found a religion just to worship your body."

And boy was he not joking.

[lilflowerpot]

Heyyy I hope your doing well and I hope your resting and not wasting all your free time answering these! Don't forget to drink alot of water and sleep at least 6 hours night. I just wanted to know your thoughts on how Lotor would react to being at the garrison. Meeting his last bullies, classmates, least favourite teachers and so on. How would he respond to both them and Keith. Would he show him off more or something like that? Again rest plenty and only answer when you feel like it.

@stinkyexhaust: So if Lotor were to find out about how much of a prick James was to Keith, how do you think he would react? I mean I don't hate James in fact I think he honestly could have had way more screentime to showcase more of his personality and backstory, especially in regards to Keith.

-

Honey if I only got six hours a night I would be the living dead, but this is very sweet of you nonetheless ♡

I've been asked something of a similar vein once before, as well as the Garrison's reaction to Keith's relationship with Lotor, and I'll repeat now what I said then: it's an important thread of the keitor dynamic (to me at least) that Keith & Lotor strengthen one another by allowing for personal growth beyond simply fighting on their partner’s behalf. So while Lotor mightn't be fond of certain figures from Keith's past—particularly given the little he learnt in chapter 24 about Iverson's handling of the Kerberos fallout—he knows and respects that Keith is more than capable of fighting his own battles, and wouldn't want to interfere with that (something something, galra sense of honour, you get it).

...All that being said, would our favourite prince be practically chomping at the bit to let it be known that he is the man who gets to stand beside Keith Kogane, Blade of Marmora, Paladin of Voltron, and Love of his Life? Yes. yes he would.

With regard to James specifically, it is my personal reading of his relationship with Keith that it was a very poorly handled mutual crush, and yet it was this very antagonism between them that pinged the galra part of Keith's brain in all the right ways. The altercation canon showed us in s7ep01 (which, despite LB being canon-divergent post s4, does in fact remain canon within my narrative bc I actually thought every insight we were given into James & Keith's past was impeccable) wherein James insulted Keith's parents, was a classic case of projection on his part; James strikes me as a privileged kid whose family expected nothing less than perfection—for him to be the best of the best at everything at all times—so I think that effortlessly-exceptional Keith getting the group into trouble simply because he was bored led to an exceedingly cruel comment,,, but I don't believe James actually knew Keith was an orphan when he said what he said.

Naturally, Keith (and we as the viewers with full knowledge of his backstory) assumes James intended to end that taunt with "before they died / abandoned you" but I'm not convinced. James could have just as easily been about to say "before they shipped you off to the military / halfway across the state / out of sight and mind" which I think is exactly what happened to him, leaving him understandably hurt, bitter, and desperate to prove himself. So yes, James—as a volatile teenager with abandonment issues, and oh look, who does that remind you of—fucked up, and payed the price of Keith's fist in his face; ultimately though, I think of Keith as having long since moved past it, and if he doesn't hold a grudge against Griffin, then why would Lotor? Particularly when, by galra standards, that specific instance was been resolved through rite of combat, and the rest of their relationship was, to an Imperial eye, just normal teenage brawling ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[seelie-buddy]

study buddies

summary : Alhaitham accompanies you as you experience the struggles of a students... (homework is the worst)

contains : both reader & alhaitham are students ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person

word count : 350

The room was warm from the afternoon sunlight that flowed in from the window, pooling down as golden hues on the floor.

You were slouched against the table, chin resting on your palm as you stared down at the book in front of you. There was a blunt ache in your fingers, all from scribbling down in your notebook for what was now hours. You sighed.

The muscles in your back were stiff as the book in front of you, perhaps as the table you sat at; but it was nothing new, not like you couldn't have expected anything else after the lack of proper movement.

"Are you done yet?" Alhaitham's spoke, though his eyes remain fixed on his book.

"I would've if all the professors didn't torture me with multiple assignments on the same deadline," you mumble as you stretch your arms over head.

"Then manage your time better," he retorted, flipping to the next page of his book.

You could only roll your eyes at him. He didn't even attend the lectures to begin with, a lot of your professors were already irritated at him for it. 

Crossing your arms, you gazed at him. It was no denying that he got through with his work way faster than you did. But to have the energy to read another book after said work, he really was something else.

The chuckles slip past your lips before you could stop yourself.

"What?" This time, he turned his head your way, his eyes darting over you as you shook your head.

Glancing over the stack of books he had gone over as you suffered from your workload, you smiled. He had been sitting across that table with you for hours now, just as he had done dozens of times before.

Regardless of how your other classmates found him unapproachable or arrogant, he was a good friend. Sometimes blunt, his choice of words a little questionable at times, but a good friend nonetheless.

"It's nothing," you answered.

"...have you finally lost your mind?"

Yes, this was the Alhaitham you befriended.

"Maybe."

A/n : I got this idea when I was reminded of how me and my friends used to group study (with almost all of us cracking jokes over the most normal things, but we somehow managed to study well despite all that)

P/s : I didn't write for a while, so I'm making my return with this drabble centred around my first limited-banner five star! (well... my first five star being Qiqi on his banner back in 3.4, but we don't talk about that)

[nabateaprodigy]

hello! can i ask for a dimitri x f!reader who is like cardia from code realize? basically, she has a gem embedded in her chest that causes her skin and blood to be poisonous (not her hair) so anything she touches melts away because of the poison. she has been isolated basically her whole life so is kinda clueless about social interactions and stuff.

also, her whole life she has been called a monster and told that she cannot love anyone. so, how would dimitri feel about that kind of person? how would he feel if he fell in love with her? what would he do to protect her? that kinda stuff!

sorry this is a little long, but thank you in advance!

- 🧊 anon

The Prince and His Maiden of Death

Series: Fire Emblem.

Character: Dimitri.

Genre: Angst/Comfort.

Proofread: Yes.

Reader: Female.

Notes: Cardia from Code Realize reminded me of an anime I'm a fan of. It's called The Duke of Death and His Maid! (Which is what I based the title of this fic on!) The way you described Cardia reminded me of the Duke so I had fun writing this! (I hope you don't mind that I based some things in this fic from the anime.)

Alone. That's something that you had been constantly reminded of from a very young age. You wanted nothing more than to make friends and play with other kids.

However, in the area you lived in it was common knowledge that a family had "A Maiden of Death" living with them and this hurt the name of your family.

You were supposed to be the next head of your house. However, your mother passed that responsible onto your sibling. If you ever wanted to be the head of the house or live with your family again you would "Have to get rid of that dreadful curse" as your mother put it.

Oh that's right you didn't live with your mother or any of your siblings. You had been living in a mansion deep in the woods anyway from anyone or anything. However, you did have someone with you your loyal butler.

You were thankful for him choosing to stay with you even knowing about your curse. You couldn't have asked for anyone more kind and loyal than him. That's how it had been for many years until you were a teenager.

It had just been you and him in that mansion so naturally you were very close with him. You didn't have much social interactions with anyone else your mother never even bothered to pay a visit or write a letter to you.

Your Butler wanted nothing more than to see you happy and make friends. So one day he suggested that you attend the Officers Academy. Naturally, you were against this idea of his.

There would be so many people around you who wouldn't want to accidentally touch someone and kill them. Not to mention you would have to be around and speak with other people. It's just something you wouldn't want to deal with so you were against doing it.

After some more discussion with your butler, you managed to strike a deal with him. You didn't have to stay for a while at least for some time to see how the experience would be for you. So you agreed to this and after some time you were on your way to enroll in the Officers Academy!

When you arrived you discussed with Archbishop Lady Rhea. She was understanding of your situation and would do anything she can to accommodate your stay at the Officers Academy. After that, you had been enrolled in the Blue Lions class.

You were extremely nervous, to say the least meeting so many new people at once. Lady Rhea had made your classmates aware of your condition. Just in case any of your classmates were overly friendly and wanted to hug you as a greeting.

Before you could even think of how you should greet your classmates you've already arrived in front of the classroom. 'There's no turning back now.' You thought you should just get this over with now. If you didn't like this you could return home but nothing wrong with giving something new a try right?

So you opened the door where all your classmates were waiting for you. You felt nervous with so many eyes on you all at managed to push that feeling back and introduced yourself. "Hello everyone it's nice to meet you I'm your new classmate my name is Y/N."

(Time skip brought to you by Ingrid bonking Sylvain on the head for flirting with every woman he sees.)

It had already been a few weeks since your arrival at the Officers Academy. To your surprise, you had been enjoying your time here. However, that was mostly thanks to one person in particular Dimitri.

Out of anyone you were most close with him and spent the most of your time as you could with him. He made you feel safe and you could truly be yourself when you were with Dimitri. Of course, you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand and hug him.

However thanks to your curse it made things like that impossible. But there was one thing you could do together that made you happy. That was Dimitri playing with and styling your hair. Dimitri was a man who didn't know his strength so even with just playing with your hair he was afraid he'd hurt you.

There was also the issue that well Dimitri didn't know how to style your hair in any way...However thanks to your friend Mercedes he was able to learn and style your hair. It's something you enjoyed as it was the closest you two could get physically.

He was someone you could easily open up with and talk to about how you truly felt. Whether that be about your curse or just how you were feeling that day. You couldn't be more happy to have someone like Dimitri in your life.

It was just another average day for you and Dimitri nothing special so far. However, that song changed as this would be the day that truly defined your love for Dimitri.

"Y/N I know for the longest time you lived in isolation because of the curse. For the fear of others hating you or yourself hurting others. However, with the time I've spent with you, I can see that you want nothing more than to be around others to have friends.

You are kind and caring considerate of others and how they feel. And for that, I love you Y/N more than you could ever know. Together let's find a way to break your curse when all is said and done. Will you rule over Faerghus by my side as Queen?"

[diodellet]

what can i do for you? (jamil viper x gn!reader*)

i was originally thinking of a hcs post for who would be the best charac to borrow a hair tie from and then realized my bias would shine through so... yeah? hooray for ya girl's first twst fic? jamil makes me confused... like i wan to punch him sm???? maybe its bc im still in recovery over not getting his alab naria ssr content warnings: -anachronistic (it is set in the main story of twst, the events of the Prologue chapter happened but there are no references to Overblots.) -references to some spoilers for Book 4 -*reader has thick, long, not-straight hair word count: 5.5k words

chapter 1: just let me do this for you

When it came to most things in his life, Jamil had little to say with regards to how he felt about such. From a young age, he was taught to put his personal thoughts aside. If he had so much to say, then he could direct that energy to his work instead. From a young age, he was taught not to make a big deal out of things, rather, he learned to placate and smooth things over. With time, even little joys were overlooked out of his mind’s automatic urge to run through his tasks and obligations again and again. There was no end to the things he had to attend to, so whatever he felt, whatever he had to say, would go disregarded and ultimately remain unsaid. But for some reason, today felt different.

Of course, nothing outwardly changed. Flight class was technically his second subject of the day after morning training at the basketball club. The sun’s rays had yet to grow harsh and he had enough time to get his body to fully wake up. The flying drills were easy enough to accomplish. With it being early into the semester, the class was still being made to recall past lessons. But as usual, Jamil would have to take his time completing them, making sure to match the majority of his classmates’ skill level to land squarely in the middle. Though, the teacher’s attention was mostly focused on the first years since it was their first time flying out in an open area. Another loud yell followed by the shrill sound of the coach’s whistle told him that another first-year nearly fell off their broom. 

Sparing the field a cursory glance, he estimated that he could complete the practice course a bit quicker than he usually did. He could shave off a few seconds from his regular record. Maybe he deserved to show some progress in the class and use the remaining time for something else. Hovering above the treeline, he watched the specks of students going about. The cool temperature of the wind grazed against his shoulders, the golden ornaments in his hair chimed softly with the movement. For once, it could be said that Jamil was in a good mood.

The same couldn’t be said for you though.

He spotted you, the blue flames of your familiar’s ears starkly standing out against the field of green and the black of the PE uniform. That combined with the loud and late entrance the both of you made, caught the attention of all the involved classes. Your frantic screaming, along with the broom speeding faster than what was manageable led to the pair of you getting stuck in a tree. The two Heartslabyul students who frequently accompanied you, tried to get you down without aggravating any possible injuries you sustained.

Come to think of it, he did have to remind Ace about afternoon training. Guiding his own broom, he descended to land a ways from where your group was standing.

“Have you ever heard of a hairbrush?” Ace picked a bunch of leaves out of your hair.

“I already told you I woke up late—ow—so I couldn’t.” You winced before swatting his hands away. “...and besides, my hair tie broke.” 

“Y’were hurrying me to finish eating breakfast…”

“Because you’re powering the broom, Grim. I’m not gonna make you do that on an empty stomach.”

“Maybe you could get a haircut if it’s such a hassle to take care of?” Deuce suggested as he handed you your broom. It probably flew and landed a bit further away after you and Grim crashed. 

“Maybe.” You tilted your head, tone pensive as you considered the prospect, before your expression gave way to a grimace. “But it’ll be expensive…”

“Come visit Heartslabyul then, we’ll use the hedge shears on you.”

That remark pulled a laugh from you. And it was contagious, making your friends smile in turn. The conversation continued in such a way as you slowly combed your hair. With each pass of your fingers through the locks, your expression would scrunch up in slight pain before you’d move on to undo the rest of the tangles.

“Okay, this is probably the best I can do. Ace?” You held out an open hand to accept his spare hair tie.

“Took you forever. Coach Vargas’ll be calling your names any second now.” He dropped it into your palm.

“Not if he calls you guys first—Coach! Trappola’s skipping out on drills!” Just as you raised your voice to bring attention to your friend, the hair tie around your fingers snapped apart, turning into a piece of string. “Ack—wait!” you cursed.

The shrill sound of Vargas’ whistle pierced the air. “Trappola, enough dilly-dallying! You’re up. Spade, you’ll be after him!” 

“Ha, karma!” Ace laughed at you before hopping onto his broom and speeding off. 

“No! Argh!” You scowled, shoving the useless band into your pocket. Letting go of your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders.

“I think y’deserved that, henchman.” Grim quipped.

You asked, “what do we do, Grim? Do we just go for it?”

“Just don’t start screaming at me again. Let’s go, let’s go! We’re gonna be left behind!” He pawed at the side of your leg, before bounding off in the direction that Ace and Deuce went in.

You leaned against your broom and carded a hand through your hair, then again and again. The repetitive motion seemed to do little for you and you ended up dropping onto your haunches, releasing a long shaky exhale. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, deciding to approach you.

“Oh crap, you saw that—” You straightened up. “Agh, I’m sor—I mean, who are you?”

He introduced himself as a second year in Scarabia, added that he was in the same club as Ace. At the mention of that, your initial trepidation dissipated. You also introduced yourself, the magicless student living with Grim in the formerly-abandoned dormitory.

“Your familiar made quite the appearance at the entrance ceremony,” he remarked. 

“Aah… Grim isn’t really my familiar,” you explained. “But he needs the credits, so… we’ve become sort of a package deal.” One of your free hands toyed with the ends of your hair. 

Jamil had to admit that he could somewhat empathize with your situation. Having to pick up after someone else, spending all of your time being responsible for another. It was the story of his life. “It seems like a handful.”

Which was a severe understatement, considering the bits and pieces of rumors surrounding you and the several times he’s seen you chasing after the catlike monster through the hallways. Said understatement elicited a laugh from you. “You should’ve seen us earlier.”

“Earlier?” He injected a practiced amount of obliviousness into his tone. 

“Ah, nevermind.” A loose lock of hair fell in front of your face as you rocked on the balls of your feet. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have either a spare hair tie or tips for controlling a broom, would you?”

He had a spare, always kept one on him. But not in the case that he misplaced them. The band of red had its improvised uses. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s only so much my understanding of theory can do for Grim. I’ve tried asking others, but I don’t…” You kicked at a patch of grass as you considered your next words. “...I don’t get it,” you admitted in a soft voice.

He could hazard a guess as to who you asked, and yet there wasn’t much he could do to help. Casting magic differed from individual to individual. For him, his own magic was almost indistinguishable from himself, it felt no different from moving a limb. One of his hands came up to his chin as he sank into thought. “You’d… lessen your chances of having an accident as long as you don’t pull up your broom. There’s no ceiling to stop you this time.” 

“Easier said than done, but thanks.” You gave an appreciative smile. The wind kicked up and your expression gave way to nervousness as you glanced up at the sky. “Fingers crossed I don’t fall and break all my bones.”

“Wait.” Jamil reached into his pocket and pulled out his spare hair tie. “This will also help.”

You fixed him with a suspicious look, but nonetheless accepted it. “This won’t break on me, will it?” He shook his head, no.

You looped the band once, twice, three times into a snug ponytail. “Oh, huh.” You ran the tip of your finger along the decorative feather.

“It’ll hold up better than Ace’s.” His lips curled into a knowing smile.

“...So you did see that!” You pointed accusingly at him, mortification painting your features. “You saw all of that!” 

Before Jamil could reply, the sharp sound of Vargas’ whistle piercing through the air followed by the sound of your name being called cut your conversation short. For a moment you looked unsure of what to prioritize, until you moved to grip your broom with your other hand. “I’ll give this back!” You called over your shoulder as you ran towards the practice course.

As soon as the class ended, he searched for Ace, managed to remind him about that afternoon’s meeting. To which the freshman responded with a casual ‘aight,’ before going to return the brooms. He supposed that the three of you would switch every now and then to be the one responsible for putting away all your brooms. 

Grim jumped onto your shoulder, climbed to perch atop your head to crow about his flying skills. You reached a hand up to scratch at the fire monster’s chin, calling his attention and quizzing him about the different ingredients needed for a Numbing Potion, the steps needed to prepare mandrake root, and… the correct method of handling poisonous ingredients? That wasn’t something brought up in Potions quizzes.

There’s a story behind that, probably. Before he could approach you though, Deuce turned your attention to his own notes. You squinted at the page, mumbling silently to yourself as you pieced together his solution. You sounded unsure as you explained the problem to the fellow first year.

At the sound of Ace’s voice saying that the both of you were wrong, Jamil withdrew. Okay, guess that means he shouldn’t disturb you and your friends.

He had other obligations to attend to anyways. He could just ask Ace to get it back for him during training. Of course, a part of him was irked at the thought of carelessly leaving his belongings with another person—a stranger, at that—but if he lingered on those thoughts, he’d end up nursing a migraine for the rest of the day.

He didn’t know it then, but that was the last time you addressed him casually. 

[...]

His good mood for the day ended with that Flight class. A pop quiz sprung on the class which mainly consisted of material from an advanced, optional reading. Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t the spontaneity nor the class’s collective low scores that irked him, rather the teacher’s disappointment in said results which added insult to injury. Following that, his next class, a research paper comprising a quarter of his final grade was assigned and made into a group project. Which he didn’t see the need for, it was just a vocal majority of the class wanting to coast by without exerting much effort.

 Look on the bright side, he reminded himself with a copious amount of sarcasm, there were no pressing emergencies so far today. But then again, that could’ve been a problem in itself. Call him paranoid, but the times where Kalim has tried and failed to solve his own problems were too numerous to keep count of.

“How were your classes?” Kalim asked.

“They were alright, nothing noteworthy,” he replied with a shrug as he took Kalim’s things. “Did you turn in the student information sheets to the Headmaster?”

Kalim pressed a hand against his temple, the bracelet adorning his wrist clinking with the movement. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. I still need to collect them from the first and second years.” 

He supposed he could afford to leave club early for this. “I’ll make sure to do that after club, then.” While this would hurt his chances of being picked for the starting lineup, dorm responsibilities always came first. The reminder did little to calm the bit of annoyance flaring up inside him though. 

Kalim’s expression shifted into one of concern. "You don't have to, I can do it after my classes." 

"There's going to be a meeting for the dorm leaders later today though.”

"Then I could just do it after that—oh! Or we could do it now," he suggested brightly.

“No.” Jamil could feel the startings of a headache above his left eye. “You’re not skipping lunch for this.”

The sound of idle conversation and students milling about grew louder the closer they reached the cafeteria. The queue for the buffet was almost long enough to snake around the perimeter of the room. At least he had the foresight to pack lunch, that only left the challenge of finding free seats for the both of them. Jamil’s hand tugged at the collar of his hoodie. Or maybe they could eat at the courtyard, the weather outside seemed fine—

“Hey, is it alright if me and my friend sit at this table?” Spoken too soon.

At least, there was a familiar face.

“Sure, knock yourselves out. ” Ace replied, giving a casual wave.

“Thanks!” The both of them took the seats across from your friend group. 

His clubmate sat between you and an empty seat. You were resting your head on your folded arms, asleep. Judging by the lack of trays, Deuce and Grim were probably somewhere in the line getting food.

“We’re back!” Speak of the devil. 

The other Heartslabyul freshman carried two trays, and passed one of them to Ace, while a third one hovered just behind him. Grim leapt onto the table, looking awfully pleased with himself. Another round of quick introductions were made. Jamil learned that this was apparently a regular occurrence when you had multiple quizzes to take during the day.

“Wake up, I got us food!” The levitating tray fell onto the table with a clatter. But you didn’t stir at the sound. The monster padded closer to you, pawed at the exposed part of your face. “I got only the best morsels for my henchman!”

“Did he get into a fight?” Ace looked up from his meal, at Deuce’s sheepish expression he grimaced. “The both of you? Jeez, they’re gonna be in for a rude awakening.”

“I tried stopping him…” 

“They got a taste of my fiery wrath, mwahaha!” Grim ignored the way that the other two tried to shush him. “Ooh, what’s that?”

“Hm, this?” Kalim pointed at his lunch. “Wanna try some? It’s really good.”

With wide curious eyes, Grim moved closer. “Don’t mind if I do—hey! What gives?”

Jamil held out a hand to block the fire-monster from taking a straight out bite of the food being offered to him. “Don’t just give away your lunch like that, I only made enough for you.” 

Before the dorm leader could protest, an upbeat guitar instrumental started playing. You slowly sat up and turned the alarm off before it could repeat. One of your hands wiped at your face. There were imprints marking your forehead and the side of your cheek from your uniform’s sleeves. Underneath your elbows, an Alchemy textbook was being used as a makeshift pillow.

“Henchmaaan, this guy’s tryna starve me!”

“Don’t listen to ‘im, he wants to eat someone else’s food.”

“It’s really fine, I don’t mind sharing!” 

“Kalim, are you even listening to me—”

You blinked owlishly at each of them, the gears in your head slowly turning as you took in the situation. “Um, who…what?”

In those few seconds, Grim took his chance, lunging to snatch a piece of meat from Kalim’s unguarded lunchbox, cackling to himself as he bounded to your side.

You were still fighting off your drowsiness, the two first-years were telling Grim off and apologizing to the dorm leader while said thief showed zero remorse, and Kalim laughed brightly with amusement. Whether it was pointed at himself or at your friend group tripping over each other, or some mix of both, it was his go-to reaction to everything. Especially in the face of nuisances.

 Jamil massaged the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off the returning headache. Why did he even bother? He set aside a portion of his own lunch, giving it to Kalim. “Here.” 

“Thanks, Jamil!” God, Kalim’s persistent optimism was painful to look at.

He didn’t respond, only tugging his hood up and keeping his attention pointed at his lunch.

The only good thing about eating in the cafeteria was that the ambient noise was more than enough to make up for any awkward pauses in the conversation. Unless you were in the company of someone who never ran out of things to say.

“Hey, I just noticed that you’re wearing the same thing as Jamil.” Like right now.

Keeping a neutral expression plastered on his face, he stole a subtle glance at you—you were poring over a section in the textbook with Deuce, who leaned over to get a clearer look, to Ace’s chagrin—the red gem adorning the hair tie gleamed, standing out against the curls of your ponytail. The three of you looked up, pausing the last-minute review.

“Oh, I always keep my hair tied—” you started to answer before your eyes widened in realization. Hooking a finger around the band, you freed your unruly hair from its hold and reached to offer it back to Jamil. “I’m sorry, I was too focused on our next class—”

“But we’re going to have to change into our lab coats later. For the practical quiz?” Deuce reminded you, passing the empty lunch trays to Ace.

You clapped a hand, the one that was holding his hair tie, against your forehead. A loud curse fell from your lips. “Ah…I forgot about that too…”

“It’s alright, you can keep using it.” The practiced response was basically muscle memory for him at this point. An automatic impulse to placate, to never rock the boat.

“Are you sure?” A concerned, almost guilty expression washed over your features. That sight, combined with the loose locks of hair framing the sides of your face, was…hard to look at for some reason.

Making a noncommittal sound, he busied himself with putting away his used utensils. “Just come by Scarabia after classes end.” 

It wasn’t like he had anything important to do anyway.

[...]

Because of club meetings, you and Grim were the only ones visiting. You mentioned something about how the both of you still had yet to join a club, with the majority of cleaning up the Ramshackle dorm taking up your afterschool activities. But what was supposed to be a quick visit to the dorm ended up becoming a full tour of the place at Kalim’s insistence. He just had to find himself in the company of not just one, but two additional absent-minded individuals. 

He should just ask for it back, get it over with—

“Oh, would you like to have some snacks? My family sent over a few boxes of baklava to share.”

“Baklava? What’s that?” Grim’s tail flicked back and forth.

The moment he resolved one problem, another one would spring up. “...Sure, I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks Jamil,” Kalim said, before turning to Grim. “You haven’t tried it before? It’s really yummy.”

“But what is it?” The sound of conversation faded behind Jamil as he went to the kitchen.

Pressing the heels of his palms to his eye sockets, he allowed himself a scant few seconds of letting the frustration wash over him before composing himself. Filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove to boil, then pulling out the needed number of plates and a platter to serve the pastries on, tasting for poison…

He remembered how Grim gorged himself on most of the food he brought for you during lunch. For once, there was a silver lining to the lavish amount that was gifted by Kalim’s parents.

He’s much calmer by the time he leaves the kitchen, effortlessly balancing the trays of food and bringing them to the common area.

“Ooh, that does look yummy.” Grim appraises after giving his serving of baklava a cursory sniff. “I’m diggin’ in!” He raised his fork to take a large bite of the dessert. 

Jamil learned that the fire-monster’s paws were capable of some dexterity the more he watched Grim eat.

“What do you think? Eat as much as you like, my family sent lots! Jamil, have some!” Kalim held up a forkful.

Jamil acquiesced, pausing in his task of serving tea. The flaky pastry combined with the flavor of honey and pistachio was a welcome sweetness. “It’s good to eat.”

“‘Good to eat’? This is delicious, henchman, I demand another!” Grim held up his empty plate.

“What’s the magic word?” you asked, holding the refilled plate away from Grim. 

“Now, please!” The response pulled a short laugh from your throat, more amused than exasperated. You chided him for taking such large bites.

Kalim explained, “oh, he actually means that there’s no poison in the food.”

The both of you looked at him, then at Jamil. “...Poison?”

The dorm leader waved a dismissive hand. “It’s kind of why I only eat Jamil’s cooking.” 

Your expression was unreadable as you took in Kalim’s words. Throughout the tour, whenever Kalim would mention something about his home life, about Scarabia, you would glance over at Jamil for just a fraction of a second before going back to the conversation at hand.

So he was caught. More than being the vice dorm leader, more than being his so-called ‘friend,’ his presence around Kalim was a job, and it was one that he performed strictly out of duty.

“Ah, sorry for bringing the mood down. But you don’t need to worry about us!” Kalim reassured you. “Would you like something else?”

“No, no it’s okay.” You mustered a polite smile. “I um…think I’d like some more tea.”

“Sure!” He accepted your cup, refilling it to the brim. Ignoring Jamil’s insistence to do it for him.

It wasn’t like the attempts made on his life put a dent in his naivete, Jamil thought to himself. He set another piece of baklava on his plate and took a bite, this one was walnut-flavored. Sure, there was the occasional moment where Kalim suffered from leftover nausea after recovering from poisoning, but he always bounced back. 

The light conversation started back up, eventually. But you still wore that pensive expression, carding your fingers through the end of your ponytail as you listened to the conversation in front of you.

“I’ll start cleaning up.” Jamil stood up from his seat to take the used dishes and empty teapot. His initial estimate proved to be right, seeing as how there were no leftovers for him to dispose of.

“I’d like to help!” You stood up, somehow managing to neatly stack your plate and fork with Grim’s while holding your cups in your other hand.

“Just leave it to me,” Jamil reached forward to accept it from you before you took a step back. “What are you doing?”

“You… can’t take it from me if I take it to the kitchen first!” Your words spilled out in a rush before you dashed away.

You didn’t even know where anything was—just how were you planning on doing that?

“Kalim!” He scowled as the dorm leader took the teapot from the tray and followed after you.

“I’d like to help too!” he called back with a bright smile on his lips. The gesture sent a rush of irritation through Jamil. “The kitchen’s the other direction!”

He was expecting to hear the sound of shattered ceramic, another mess for him to clean up, but the sound of light-hearted laughter echoed in his ears.

“Mragh…do they really have to do this every time we visit someplace else…” Grim grumbled himself before hopping off the cushion.

By the time he arrived at the kitchen, you were halfway through washing the used dishes. The sleeves of your blazer were messily rolled up to your elbows. You were in the middle of talking about how your first few days at the Ramshackle dorm, how the ghosts were capable roommates despite their incorporeal form. It was almost like you barged into a family, but they were willing to accept you and Grim under their care, never mind the rocky start.

Though your voice and pleasant expression remained steady, the moment Kalim asked about your family, one of the teacups tumbled out of your hold and landed in the sink with a loud clatter. The noise shattered the warm atmosphere.

Jamil took that as his cue to guide Kalim out of the kitchen, which the latter reluctantly agreed to. Giving you a worried look just before he left.

“Please excuse him, Kalim didn’t mean to pry—”

You shook your head, at least you didn’t seem angry. “It’s funny, I can remember doing things like this with them.” You glanced at Jamil, then back to the running water before admitting quietly. “But I barely remember them, my family, my friends.”

“Don’t think about that, henchman. You have me now.” You stumbled as Grim leapt onto your shoulder, clambering up to the top of your head.

“...You’re right, I guess so.” The smile didn’t reach your eyes.

[...]

You stood in front of the mirror, head craned upwards to stare at the intricate frame. Your hands busied themselves with twisting and picking at your fingers. Since you were standing alone, Grim probably went on ahead at your request. 

Jamil decided to speak up, “forgetting something?”

Turning to the sound of his voice, your confused expression gave way to sheepishness as you noticed what was in his hand. It was the notebook you were carrying with you when you arrived at the dorm. “Oh shoot—” You quickly took it and flipped through the pages. “Sorry, where’d I leave it?”

“It was in the common area.” 

"Y’know, I think that place is more ‘pillows’ than lounge.’”

“You can thank the Asim Family for that.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, just that lost ‘nd found spells got to have a limit or something.”

“Or you just get used to it.” He shrugged.

A part of him thought back to the brief conversation in the kitchen, the little admission you made. But you made no mention of it again, there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment, no hesitant request to forget about it. Your hand carded through your hair, brushing aside the short baby hairs, and through your ponytail. His eyes caught how your fingers grazed against the ornamental feather attached to the hair tie. 

“You should start heading back to Ramshackle.”

“I know, I really should…but I still feel like I’m forgetting something.”

His hair tie. You were still wearing it, but at some point in today, you had completely, unwittingly accepted it as part of your person. He might just outright ask for it back, but instead, he asked you, “what are your classes for tomorrow?”

You blinked. “Um. I think I have five subjects? No, wait—”

“That should be History and Alchemy.” He counted on two fingers.

“—yeah. Uh, we get free study on Wednesdays so that leaves Animal Linguistics and Practical Magic.” Four fingers.

“And what do you have to pass for those subjects?” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh crap…what were we going to do tomorrow—there’s a quiz for History of Magic… two worksheets to pass for Alchemy homework, um…Oh! We’re going to have a report on a new chapter in Linguistics...” You listed the first three easily before trailing off to think.

“Nothing for Practical Magic?”

Your brow furrowed. “...I don’t think so?”

“No assigned readings? Practice quizzes? Group reports?” He listed a few more options. Mentioned anything but that band of red tying your hair and keeping it out of your face. With each shake of your head, he watched your expression sink deeper into contemplation.

“I think we just have a lecture for that day… Everything else is due next week.” You conceded after a few more seconds of racking your brain. “Ugh, it’s right at the tip of my tongue though. I really think I’m forgetting something.” You recounted the same number of requirements on your own hand, the index finger of your other hand bending your pinky.

His hand returned to his side. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Big words, coming from the Dorm of Overthinking.”

He couldn’t help the exasperated sigh. “Mindfulness and overthinking aren’t the same.”

“Are too—wait, now I know what I’m forgetting!” Well, it was fun while it lasted. He expected to see you reach upwards and undo your ponytail, to see your hair tumble messily over your shoulders, to hear a quick goodbye. Normalcy was only two quick steps away, the distance between you and the mirror.

Instead, you folded your other fingers, holding up your pinky. “I’ll come over after classes to help you out.”

“Ha?” Your solution was to give yourself more to do?!

“Is-is that too much?” Your head tilted to the side, concern laced your tone.

Schooling his expression back into a neutral one, he backtracked, “no—I mean, don’t you have anything better to do?” With your free time? He left that last part unsaid.

“You’d have to be a fool not to admit that two sets of hands are better than one,” you reasoned.

It isn’t that simple, he wanted to say. If only your words could have undone the rigid duty that had dictated his entire life. But, what could he say to someone who was just as, if not more, stubborn than they appeared? It was too much of a hassle to deal with, he reasoned to himself.

He linked his pinky finger with yours. Made no mention of the way you tensed up at the contact and filed it away in his mind. “Very well, I’ll hold you to that.” 

“Cool.” A few more beats passed, your gaze darted from his face then to your joined hands. “...okay.” Your tone softened bashfully at that last word. With your head tilted downwards, as if adamantly turned away, more loose strands of your hair slipped from your ponytail. At least you weren’t able to see what his own expression looked like. He imagined brushing the hair aside and tucking it behind your ear.

Instead he drew back, pulling his hand away from yours and slipping it into his pocket. In this way, the residual heat from your hand wouldn’t dissipate as quickly. “Didn’t you say you had a test for History tomorrow?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you cursed and turned to the mirror. “You’re right, um… Sorry for overstaying my welcome, thank you for to—” The rest of your sentence cut off the moment you went through the portal. But he didn’t need to guess what you were trying to say. Your goodbye floated in the air, pleasant and warm, settling comfortably into his mind. 

He spared a glance outside. The sky was growing dark, a day consisted of 24 hours, and he wasn’t one to lose track of time. But a part of him swore that whatever happened that afternoon took place for longer than two hours. He stopped in his tracks, for once he wasn’t thinking two or three steps ahead for tomorrow and the day after.

Get it together, Jamil Viper. His facade as a retainer for the Asim family slipped back into place. First, he had to clean up the lounge, then prepare dinner. After that he needed to go over the recent chapter for Ancient Incantations, to help Kalim review for Defensive Magic. What could be prepared for breakfast and lunch tomorrow, he should ask if Kalim had any preferences. He counted each task on a finger, his mind seamlessly recalling what else needed to be done for tomorrow, for the party this weekend, and so on. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he didn’t take a look until late in the night, after he finished putting everything away and made his last checks around the dorm.

Unknown Number IM SORRY I FORGOT TO RETURN YOUR HAIR THINGY AAAAAA I can Run back and drop it off Or is it Too late??? Ahhh im really sorry See i KNEW i was forgetting something this whole time!!!

From the first message, he already knew who the sender was. Did you ask Ace for his number? He changed the name to yours and started typing a reply. Unbeknownst to him, an amused smile tugged at his lips.

Jamil It's fine, I already told you I have more than one. It isn't a bother. Red looks good on y|

What was he doing? The back of his neck grew warm with embarrassment. He erased that last message.

Just make sure you bring it with you tomorrow.

chapter 2: take my hand like you mean it chapter 3: you're afraid to believe it A/N: first id like to thank @jessamine-rose for her time and patience in dealin wid my shenaniganery as she beta'd this story. fic+chapter title credits to this song iykyk wink wonk idk what else to say other than strap in? get ready? this is overly self-indulgent? ill update the links when i get around to finishing pt. 2 (as of now im 1.2k words in) i hope this was fun to read haha i was being hounded with worms in the brain for this funny guy lmao (read: 🤧📢📢GAGO KA JAMIL HANGKYUT MO TALAGAAAAA) don't be afraid to rb and holler in da tags! i cherish each and every comment 💞💞

[sketch-guardian]

Hii! Can I request the RAD classmates with an MC who looks and acts like Azrael from the Obey-Me-Angel-Bros blog by simply-yulia

I’m the biggest fan of that blog and the artist so the crossover would make me so happy 🙏🙏

If you’re not comfortable with the request then I understand!

So, I had never heard of that blog, now I feel stupid for not having known about it before🙈I had to do some research to understand what you meant and in addition to admiring the ideas and drawings of the blog in question, I hope I understood their version of Azrael well enough, since I didn't find much about his character😖I hope it's not too OOC😭

Furthermore, I also hope that the request doesn't make Azrael's creator uncomfortable, since I don't know them, so to be safe, even if I'm not sure if they're still active, I'll tag them ( @obey-me-angel-bros by simply-yulia), to specify this Azrael is their version. Now let's start with the ask:

"RAD CLASSMATES WITH A MC THAT LOOKS AND ACTS LIKE AZRAEL FROM OBEY-ME-ANGEL-BROS BLOG"

DEMYA

To be clear, as long as MC gives Demya her freedom, isn't intimidated by her feral side, and lets her eat to her heart's content, then MC could be the scariest being in all of Devildom and Demya would still cling to them, nuzzling against their arm and tagging them along around for shopping. Demya, not really having an opinion about celestial beings, would find MC's appearance to be quite ethereal, however she would prefer to see MC without bangs if they're comfortable enough, because in Demya's opinion, mates should accept each other and show their true self, both good and bad, for example MC with their several eyes in full view with Demya with blood dripping from her mouth. Demya might initially tease MC in a witty way for their quiet and hardworking nature, it's also likely that every now and then she would try to drag MC into some reckless adventures to make them loosen up, much to their dismay. As for the paintings, Demya would be interested and would even model without any problem for MC, albeit sometimes in dirty poses, just to see their reaction. Demya would also get a lot of fresh red paint just for MC (don't ask where she got it, it's as bad as you think-)

DOMNRA/MOBIM

The angelic appearance might initially destabilize Domnra a little, because it would remind him of his days as a soldier in the celestial army, so it would take some time for him to get used to MC's presence (nothing personal, even with Simeon and Raphael was like that-). Domnra would understand the reason behind MC's act of covering their eyes, since he has a quiff, the only difference is that Domnra does it because he is blind from that covered eye, in fact in a rare joking or sarcastic moment, he would ask MC to lend him a working one. MC's calm nature would be a balm for Domnra's often mad soul, so listening to some music while they draw would be ideal, or even training (the idea of ​​being drawn in that context would embarrass Domnra). Mobim would at first be intimidated by MC's appearance, but sensing their good intentions, the little curse would come out of its shell and sit on their lap or shoulder while they paint, even dozing off sometimes

AZUL

Fortunately (or unfortunately, since it can result in a big headache-) Azul is quite a charismatic conversationalist, so despite MC's awkward attitude, he would do his best to engage them in conversation and get them to talk more freely about their interests, especially because they both have a passion for art. Azul wouldn't show it outwardly, even if his colors would betray his true thoughts, however having an MC that reminds him of his past as an angel would disturb him quite a bit, at least at first, given how badly he had coped with his fall from the Celestial Realm. When Azul was an angel, he didn't have ordinary wings, but rather butterfly wings that he was proud of and that he misses terribly sometimes, so if MC made a portrait of him at that time, it would be one of those few times in which Azul would cry quietly. During some of his mood swings, Azul might let out a few jokes, like comparing himself to a butterfly that fell into the spider's web stretched by MC, as a metaphor for their fall in love (corny, I know-). Azul would also return any paintings by making some himself, with MC represented with their eyes in plain sight, since Azul considers them part of MC, therefore beautiful. MC's gentle presence would help Azul stay calmer and avoid his mood swings

ZURI

Even Zuri, like her other two fallen angel friends, would be a little hesitant to interact with an MC who reminds her of her past as an angel, however she would be much more mature and professional about the situation and would quickly get used to the idea. Zuri would appreciate MC's calm nature and wouldn't be bothered by their awkwardness, since she would be perfectly able to speak on behalf of both of them (basically: they asked for no pickles-). Noting that to hide their different eyes MC seems to be uncomfortable sometimes, as if they would prefer to keep them uncovered, Zuri would propose to build some tailor-made masks to make their life easier and more comfortable in general, she would also recommend being careful not to get dirty with paint during their paintings, even if Zuri would take care of arranging and possibly modifying their clothes in the end

ODON

Odon would be intrigued by this version of MC, especially because they would notice similarities in their hair style, however the reason why MC does it seems to be to not make others uncomfortable or out of shyness, while Odon does it for the mental health of others' sake and to prevent them from dying in a atrocious existential suffering, the only way for Odon to be seen without bangs would be to shapeshift their face into something more bearable. Considering their past, Odon would be surprised that they caught MC's attention, pure as they are, but they wouldn't complain. Odon in demon form has several arms and several eye-like creatures fluttering around them, so some might jokingly compare Odon to a spider. Odon and MC could spend a lot of time in a cozy silence without getting bored, while MC draws and Odon sips a cup of tea reading a book, even out loud, if upon request. Besides, Odon is a bottomless well of knowledge, so if MC ever needs inspiration for new painting ideas, they can ask Odon

[theodoradevlin]

There Was Always Something About Autumn

There was something about Autumn...

Something in the way the wind blew just brisk enough to hint at the absence of summer, yet still warming you for some particular reason, even when you knew the cold was just around the corner.

Autumn reminded him of many things. Of change...maybe more specifically, transformation.

Of the finality of an age, finally slowing down to give way to a new one. Of life moving slower in response to its finality, if just for a moment, gilded in a moment of endless gold, and burning red.

And it...mostly reminded him of her.

Her hair. The fineness of it, as it burned in his vision in all its copper glory.

If he was a shadow, she was the fire that created it.

And like a shadow to the flame, he clung to her through it all. Through their years at Hogwarts. Through his life on the run. Through her struggle to understand the power she fought so diligently to keep. Through the future they had earned together.

Through losing it all, only to find it again. They were two halves of an entirely, imperfect, whole.

"Are you ready?" A voice cut through his brooding as he looked up to find his dear friend of many years - though the years would never show on his face. Ominis still looked like he had been an angel carved from stone, even after all this time.

Sebastian laughed gruffly.

"I think I've been ready since she knocked me off that damn duelling platform." Ominis chuckled, giving him a knowing smile. "The best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we'd ever had, I'd say."

Ominis simply came over - straightening Sebastian's already mussed shirt, although he only wore a simple shirt, suspenders and trousers. It seemed right, that in the wake of such love it could be seen in simplicity.

Though he blushed, he let his friend look after him - as he had been all these years.

"Don't take too long now. I'll see you soon...Anne's waiting for me anyhow." Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. You love to remind me how in love you are with my sister."

Ominis just gave him salute as he walked out of the tent. "She made me promise to keep reminding you...she swore it's probably the only thing that might make you behave."

Ominis turned one final time, smiling at his friend.

"But...I think it all ended up all right - don't you?"

Sebastian smiled, begrudgingly, at his friends words. It was partly Ominis that was responsible for the reconciliation he had with Anne. And he had seen the way they had looked at each other, even long before the events of their 5th year, and before curses. They had always loved each other - Ominis and Anne. And because of that he had his sister back. But...there was someone else had also been equally responsible for that. A person he was almost late to meet.

"No..I don't suppose it turned out too bad...after all." Sebastian muttured, as Ominis nodded, leaving him to get ready.

Sebastian took a deep breath, walking down the valley to the great willow tree, where a few of their old classmates and friends waited.

Professor Weasley, Natty, Amit, Poppy, Garreth, Imelda...even Deek. And of course, a few empty seats left open for his parents, her parents...Professor Fig. Miriam.

He attempted to steel himself, as he said his hello's with encouraging smiles thrown his way.

Finally, get got up to the end of the aisle, where Ominis stood waiting on one side, and Anne on the other.

"Glad you're on time for once..." His sister chided with a teasing smile across from him.

He gave her a quick glare, but not before everyone turned and time completely stopped.

When he looked up, the sun was in his eyes.

And there she was. Like the sun. Blinding, and yet obvious, as if there could never have been a moment in his life where she had not been there.

Her dress was yellow. He smiled at that. He probably took it in for far too many moments, and the realization had a smile drawing across his face. Nothing about them had ever been traditional, anyhow. She was perfect. And she would always be the flame his shadow followed.

Autumn was a begging reminder of all the moments that had led up to it, as well as the one that would come after.

There would always be light, and dark for them. Whichever way the two twisted together in the future, he was okay with. Because he'd never be more changed than by the light she'd given him.

She strode up to him, those grey eyes promising so many possibilities.

"Sebastian."

She breathed.

"Theo."

He answered.

He had always loved Autumn. For it had always felt like the beginning of everything, even at the end.