#other readings are accepted and encouraged

[thewistlingbadger]

Yeah the comparison to the queer community was extremely helpful. Since I'm a POC, I personally use an analogy under that light. Vi reminds me of a person of color who tries to assimilate into white society whatever means necessary just so they themselves can feel validated by white people (this never ends up working in their favor. They always end up chasing validation that they're really never getting). She also gives me "I only date white people, they make me closer to whiteness" vibes, as well as "I'm not (insert ethnicity), I'm (insert nationality)."

Like babe just be true to who you are. Let go of all the nastiness you've learned and come back to who you truly are. It's not a good look, you look stupid, and you're annoying everyone around you INCLUDING those are trying to impress.

And man the more I think about this the more realizations I make. Silco was right about what he said about vi. "Everyone betrays us: Vander, HER- they will never understand. It's only us." Yes he was saying it just to diss her but he also recognized the truth in it. Which is so astounding because he's only been with Vi for a few moments throughout the whole show, and he's already been able to read her like an open book and predict her future actions.

Even though she never actually did betray Jinx he knows she's going to betray her in the future because her and Jinx have DRASTICALLY different viewpoints of zaun and what it means to be a Zaunite. Vi has the inferiority complex that she got from the bridge and never let go off. Jinx was raised by a radical politician/business man who ALWAYS emphasized the importance of what he was fighting for and the rights zaun. This is something that's been so embedded into Jinx even though she herself does not actually care about design or the plight to freedom.

Jinx and Silco are truly the only people who understand the nature of zaun. They've both lived it they both embody it and it's been taught to jinx since an early age/something silco learned as a child. Silco and jinx are both the two biggest characters that actually accept change in the show, where most of the other characters reject it (vi being a big offender of this.

To me piltover is representative of control and zaun is representative of chaos. Change is nature and nature is chaos with balance (most of the time). Jinx is very chaotic where Vi is mostly very controlled.

ALSO, separate thought: if we're comparing vi to Viktor and we look over at Jayce and Caitlyn, I'd argue they're very different. They both have prejudice just by being pilties but the difference is that Caitlyn feeds into Vi's insecurities and her inferiority complex. Her and vi are basically shaking hands when it comes to being prejudiced against zaun. Not so much with jayce and Viktor. Both of them uplift each other. To Jayce, Viktor's achievements are extraordinary due to the nature of the achievements, NOT because of the nature of who those achievements were made by. This can be very encouraging and damaging at the same time, because we see that because Jayce doesn't really recognize Viktor as being a Zaunite, it ends up warping his view and it leads to tension in their relationship. I also think it's important to recognize that Jayce tries to learn from his mistakes. He apologizes to Viktor, he tries to broker peace between zaun and piltover, we see him working with Ekko, trying to solve a problem that negatively impacts zaun that he himself started. Overall their relationship is very positive where the girls' relationship is very negative because they're both feeding into each other's negativity. Caitlyn never really apologizes for her prejudice and Vi never really makes her.

Both Caitlyn and Jayce don't really see their partner's nationality. The difference is that Caitlyn sees Vi as an exception, she knows shes a Zaunite but she's "one of the good ones" and Jayce just does not care that Viktor is from zaun (this can be seen as both positive and Negative).

The second the illusion shatters of Vi not being like every other Zaunite, Caitlyn tosses her aside like she was nothing. Jayce doesn't see Viktor as an exception, I think he deadass just forgets that he's from zaun (and can we blame him Viktor has been living in piltover for years and dressing and acting like a piltie for years. It's assumed that him going to visit singed is the first time he went back in a long time, perhaps even since he left. Vi makes it very clear that she's undercity, it is her identity ((that complex again)). Viktor being undercity is only PART of his identity, it is not entirely who he is. Another reason why he doesn't really present himself as undercity is because he's assumedly spent more time in piltover than he has his home.)

This has been spinning around in my head since I watched season 2 arc 1, and I can't refrain from putting it down to post anymore.

In season 1, Jayce and Viktor get into a fight when Viktor evades the blockade to go speak to Singed in Zaun. During their fight, Jayce snaps at Viktor that he didn't know that Viktor's friend was from the undercity, and when Viktor asks why that matters, Jayce says the above: [people from the undercity] are dangerous (earlier he had also said, "there are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us!"). That's when Viktor grows cold, reminding Jayce that he is from the undercity, and even after Jayce apologizes, Viktor knocks his hand away, choosing to stand up on his own.

In season 2, chembarons hired by Ambessa (though no one knows that at the time) attack the memorial for the dead council members. In the aftermath, Caitlyn calls them animals. Notably, Vi shows no reaction at all to this; she doesn't so much as flinch at Caitlyn's word choice. Instead, while she does downplay what happened to an extent ("they wanted the spectacle, they're trying to scare you"), what's notable is that she separates herself from the people of Zaun. This is especially notable when she tells Caitlyn to call off the invasion, because of the risk it poses for those not from Zaun:

"Down there, you'll be on their terms."

Viktor seems to have pride in the fact that he is from Zaun. He has love for his home. As difficult as life was there, as much as the pollution led to his illness and disability, he has no shame that he's from Zaun and he still sees value and has love for the people there. This is why, when Jayce writes the Zaunites off as "dangerous", Viktor grows cold. He is no different from them, in his mind; if they're dangerous, then so is he.

Vi is . . . different.

In season 1 arc 1, Vi expresses to Vander that she has bought into and believes that those in Piltover are more than those in Zaun:

Now, here, Vi is still grouping herself in with the rest of Zaun. But there is a level of self-hatred (and hatred for one's home) that we don't see in Viktor. Viktor doesn't see himself as lesser than those in Piltover. He doesn't see the Zaunites as lesser than those in Piltover. Vi, however, does. She states this as if it is a fact. And while she loved her family, and has parts of Zaun that she likes (e.g. Jericho's food), it's worth noting that at the end of season 1 episode 1, she isn't telling Powder that they'll liberate Zaun, or fight for Zaun, or anything like that. Instead?

"This city's gonna respect us." This city. Not our city. Here is the first moment we see in which Vi puts some separation between herself and the rest of Zaun. She wants to make them respect her (and Powder). Even if she's less than those in Piltover, she still sees an opportunity for herself to be above those in Zaun.

All of this is to say that, when she has no reaction to Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", when she refers to them as "they," when she refers to Zaun as "their terms" . . . ultimately, it isn't too surprising. Vi represents a type of person who does exist in marginalized groups: the self-hating type, who hate others in their group for "drawing aggression" or "negative attention."

Think about queer people, for instance, who hate those who are flamboyant or open about who they are and who they love. The ones who think, "If we just assimilate more, be less of a bother, be less obnoxious, then the queerphobes will accept us." Obviously, other queer people find this type of person extremely frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, because we know that it doesn't matter what we do or how we act; bigots will never accept us.

But what we should understand, and extend compassion for, is that self-hating marginalized people are that way because it's a defense mechanism -- a survival mechanism, really. They can't square why bigots hate them, so they reach for any kind of explanation they can find, even if that explanation ultimately blames others in their own group and does more harm than good. Not to mention that hating yourself for who you are is often a result of long-term, systemic abuse -- the exact same kind of abuse that comes from living under an oppressive regime that murdered your parents and will assault you at any given opportunity, even for something as petty as your little sister miming shooting them with finger guns.

Vi says that she, "grew up knowing [she] was less than them." This is extraordinarily damaging to the psyche, and Vi's self-hatred -- and the extension of that hatred toward Zaun, not wanting to save them but wanting to make them respect her -- is a trauma response to that. One that Viktor, obviously, doesn't share (and neither does Ekko, or Jinx) -- but everyone reacts to trauma differently.

The point is, we saw shades of this already in Vi's childhood; her statement that she's less than topsiders, but that she wants those in the undercity to respect her. So when Caitlyn calls the Zaunites animals, Vi doesn't flinch. She agrees. And she speaks of them as separate from her, because Caitlyn has already designated her as one of the good ones (reinforced to her by what Maddie told her Caitlyn said right before the memorial), and because, well, those who attacked the memorial did do something horrible. And maybe if they wouldn't do that, and maybe if Jinx hadn't blown up the council building -- maybe if they were better behaved -- then the enforcers wouldn't have to invade and do what they were about to do, now would they? Those in Zaun -- or at least those in Zaun who decided to strike against Piltover -- brought it on themselves, so Vi isn't with them. She's with Caitlyn, and is okay with referring to them as animals.

It's interesting to think about.

[obsessive-valentine]

5 stages of Grief (pt2)

Platonic Vampire Family + Fem!Reader

You attempt to come to terms with what you have become and youre new life with the Beaumont vampires, some more accepting than others. Part 2 of forever and always

You woke up amongst fine fabrics and soft pillows, it was like you were sinking into a cloud being hugged from all angles. Had you died in the night and now gifted an eternity on a cloud, you never thought so deeply about the afterlife. Was this heaven that so many speak of, or something different, maybe a waiting cloud as you wait in the in-between for your turn to move on.

Your eyes are heavy and your body is taking a lot longer to start up again. Your thoughts were slow, disjointed, as though your mind had been emptied and was slowly being pieced back together, you couldn't think of anything logical or of meaning.

But your body didn't ache and rattle like it had before. Devoid of the sting in your chest and weight of your limbs.

Only one thing remained—a dull, growing sting on your inner wrist.

As you came closer to reality, you could feel a presence beside you, a hand running through your hair, slow and deliberate. It felt so tender, you don't think you've felt such softness for some time. Between that and the sound of a fireplace crackling reaching your ears, you were almost soothed back asleep.

You clenched your hands into a fist and then relieved the pressure once again, slowly moved your toes and drew in a long breath before letting go of a sigh. All signs you are, in-fact, alive. You cracked your eyes open but you only saw blur and the minimal light is so hard on your eyes.

The hand running through your hair had stopped and now rested on the crown of your head. Then a sweet voice broke through the stillness of the room and traveled gently to your ear, almost a whisper "You're safe now, sweet girl. Don't strain, be slow" She encouraged.

You knew that voice "Lavinia?" you whispered twisting your head to the side to see for yourself if your assumption was right. "Yes, It's me. You're here with me" she said almost reassuring herself more than you. She sat beside the bed in a plain wooden chair, her face softening even more under your gaze, a hand still extended to rest on your head unable to part.

What you didn't know is the incomprehensible amount of relief she was experiencing- that her girl had woken up. There was the chance that she could still lose you, that a complication could have arouse.

As you slept, your body no longer needing to breathe, your skin pale and cold to the touch, Lavinia had begun to fear the worst. The night had felt endless, each hour creeping by as you lay there, motionless. No twitch of your fingers, no flutter of your eyelids.

"Where am I?" you questioned as you noticed more and more about this unfamiliar room as the blur coving your vision dissipated. The bed was a work of art in itself dark wood polished to shine -nothing like your flimsy wooden cot, the wallpaper a beautiful deep forest green with intricate patterns that extended all the way up the towering walls -your wallpaper was a cheap old and childish pattern.

The fireplace made from a beautiful stone with crackling logs, and candle holders that looked to be solid gold shone as they reflected the fire. The house is quiet, no one to be heard inside or out, only objects seemed to talk like the incredibly expensive-looking clock ticking away on the wall.

"This is my home, we're in your room" she added as specification but as calmly as she could, slow and trying to read your face "My room? This isn't my room" you stated matter-of-factly, your brows now sewn together in confusion.

"It will be a while until you can understand whats happening, but this is your home now" she tried again gently but regretted her approach once confusion was replaced with worry. You'd fully woken up now, dread beginning to bubble up in you. The memories of last night and trusting the strange man to cure you, that didn't help you solve what was happening currently though, it only deepened the confused creases on your brow.

You pushed up off the pillows causing Lavinia to draw back her hand, you sat up and shuffled back to get some distance- some breathing room "I know you're scared," she murmured softly, though she could feel her own unease building. "It’s confusing, but you’re safer here now. I can’t send you home… you’d be in danger." It's been a while since Lavinia had to deal with this sort of thing with something as fragile as you and the untouched human mind, and she was struggling to explain without making you even more frantic.

She only really spoke the straight truth (usually an appreciated trait amongst the family, but the truth could be hard and scary for a young being), and while she tried to do so gently with you, there is no easy way to do this. Her boys went through this exact experience, and she supposed it was inevitable.

“Danger?” Your voice was firmer now, as you sat up, your gaze unwavering. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand any of this… it’s my choice to go home if I want, isn’t it? Why am I even here?”

Lavinia took a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking again, her hands folding calmly in her lap. “If it were safe, I would let you go back to your family,” she lied, There no way you're leaving her sight again. She held your gaze with a tempered but resolute calm expression “But things have changed in ways that even I couldn’t undo. And, to let you go back home -amongst humans. I'd be putting you in terrible danger, as you are not one of them anymore.”

your face went from one of fear and confusion to a deadpan stare "Not human?" you whispered in disbelief, not that you supposedly weren't human but the audacity of Lavinia thinking she'd gone mad. "Just tell me what's going on" you demanded with twisting dread and emotion once again taking control of you

The words sat heavy between you both, and you felt your stomach twist. Her expression softened as she continued, “You’re here because… last night, Soren and I did what we thought was necessary to save you. You’re no longer ill, but neither are you… quite the same as you were.” Soren? the man that came to you in the night promising you an escape to cheat death? he was apart of this too?

She sucked in a breath and sighed watching your steady stare, waiting for a clear explanation, there was no getting around this.

Lavinia reached for one of your hands, ignoring you trying to pull it back out of her grasp. She sat closer- on the edge of the bed and placed your fingers against her neck "What do you feel?" she questioned.

You've never been more confused "Just tell me what's happening" you demanded again she shook her head "I'm trying to. Tell me what you feel" she managed to keep her composed tone this whole time despite dreadfully waiting for your moment of realisation.

You tried to focus, what answer did she want? you sat there for a minute contemplating, you were feeling nothing? "Nothing, right?" Lavinia answered for you. You shrugged still not understanding.

"...not even a pulse?" she questioned watching you expectantly. "What" you questioned "Vampires don't have pulses little one" You're face dropped at the mention of such a monster.

The words sank in slowly, your hand still pressed against her neck as if you’d feel it any moment—a heartbeat, a sign of life—but there was nothing. The emptiness under your fingertips sent a chill through you.

Your voice wavered. “Vampire?”

Lavinia nodded, her expression a blend of sadness and conviction. “Yes. You’re here because Soren and I chose to save you… this way. It was the only way to stop the sickness from taking you. Making you a Vampire.”

You pulled your hand back, the realisation of what she had been implying crashing over you. Your hand raised to your own neck this time, you have to have a pulse. Vampires aren't real, everyone has told you to stop fearing those stupid stories. you couldn't feel anything, no beat.

"This makes no se-" you trailed off shaking your head. you threw off the blankets the still clung to your lower half and slid off the bed.

Your feet hit the cold floor, grounding you just enough to cling to one last shred of disbelief. This was a nightmare; it had to be. You ignored the weakness still lingering in your legs, gripping the bedpost for stability, but even that felt unfamiliar—the world too sharp, the air somehow thicker. You couldn’t let her words settle in, couldn’t even entertain the idea of what she was telling you.

“I’m going home,” you insisted, trying to steady yourself, your voice laced with desperation. “You’re crazy! You and that man—this whole place!”

Lavinia’s expression didn’t change; she just sat calmly, watching you, as if she'd expected this exact response. "I understand," she said gently, with the patience of someone who’d seen this scene unfold countless times before. "But where would you go, love? Do you even know where you are?” she tried to reason with you.

"I don't care- anywhere but here!" you attempted to push the door open but got stopped by Lavinia's hand around your wrist. She tried to continue to reason with logic, but you didn't let her before pulling your hand away and stumbling back. She let go, afraid of hurting you.

You ran through the door, ignoring Lavinia calling for you from behind. A large figure stood menacingly in the hallway seemingly ready to stop you, his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the hall and you're sure you saw long shiny fangs when he playfully smiled at you as you halted just in front of him. His dark hair stark against his pale skin, you began to believe the monster, vampires, existed and you had to get away.

He reached for you as you slipped past him and ran down the hall, but he stopped himself when Lavinia scolded him "Leave her be Dorian. Let us handle her for now" You then heard the fast steps of her heels close behind you once again.

You continued through the grand house, finding the staircase and rushing down it. You were in such a rush and focused on getting to the front door that was so close to your reach you hadn't realised that Lavinia's footfalls had stopped at the stairs and others had snuck up behind you.

Hands grasped your shoulders and ripped you away from the door, before pulling you to turn around and look at him. The man that had started this all, hed stolen you away in the night, he had done all this.

"Get away from me you monster!" your hands beat against his chest as your legs worked to try and pull yourself free and away from him "What have you done to me?!" you continued to struggle.

Your cries echoed through the silent hall, but Soren’s expression remained unmoved. He watched your struggles with a deep, quiet disdain, as if you were no more than a child throwing a tantrum. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and chilling, edged with absolute authority.

“Enough.”

The single word stopped you cold, not just because of the harshness, but because of the power it held. You felt yourself shrink under his unwavering stare, a dark glint in his eye as he watched you wilt.

“This outburst,” he continued, his voice as sharp as a blade, “will not be tolerated. Do you understand me?” He didn’t wait for you to respond, his hands clamping tighter, nearly bruising as he spoke. “You are not a prisoner here, but neither are you a fool. This is your reality now; no other place will take you as you are now. And while you are under my roof you will learn to control yourself, or suffer the consequences of your childish defiance.”

At that, Lavinia descended the stairs, her face laced with worry as she approached carefully. Her hand lifted to touch Soren’s arm, a soft pressure as if to keep him from hardening further. “Soren,” she began, voice low and calm, “she’s just frightened… please, be gentle. She’s overwhelmed and acting out of panic.” Her eyes searched his face, an unspoken plea for restraint and mercy.

Soren’s gaze flicked to Lavinia, his jaw clenching. For a brief moment, the irritation in his eyes softened. But the stern lines of his face quickly returned as he looked back at you. With a slow exhale, he released his hold abruptly, the action so sudden that you stumbled backward, just managing to catch your balance. Instinctively, you retreated behind Lavinia, clutching the back of her dress and peeking around her to keep your eyes locked on Soren, wary of his every move.

He took a measured breath, his eyes studying you with a detached, calculating expression. “Take her upstairs,” he said to Lavinia in a voice that brooked no refusal. “She has exerted herself enough already. She’ll go back to her room and sleep—without any further dramatics. Yes?” His eyes bore into you with a steady command that made you feel rooted in place.

Words failed you under his harsh gaze, and you could only nod. The strength in his tone left no room for argument; all your earlier fight dissolved into a shaky obedience. You felt Lavinia’s warm hand on your back, gently guiding you to turn toward the stairs.

“Come now,” she whispered, her tone gentle and soothing. Her arm slipped around your shoulders, shielding you as much as guiding you, her warmth and closeness a sharp contrast to the cold, stony presence that lingered behind.

As she led you up the stairs, Soren’s gaze remained fixed on you both, his expression unreadable yet intense. You didn’t dare look back at him, even as the distance grew and you ascended away from his intimidating presence. You could still feel his eyes on you like a brand, marking this moment as the first time you’d dared to defy him—and the last time you might try.

In the quiet of the upstairs hallway, Lavinia paused, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “I know this is confusing, and I know you’re frightened,” she murmured, her gaze soft as she looked down at you. “But it’s important now that you trust me and let us help you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

You bit your lip, still shaken, the lingering memory of Soren’s grip on your arms reminding you of the intensity and strictness of this new life. Yet in Lavinia’s gentle, steady gaze, there was a promise of safety—a warmth that almost made you believe her.

She gave a small smile, almost apologetic. “Come, let’s go back to your room. I’ll stay with you as long as you like.” With a final reassuring glance, she led you down the hall, her hand warm and steady on your shoulder, guiding you into the unknown with patience and care.

Lavinia helped you back into the bed and lay multiple soft and weighted blankets over you, the pressure comforting. your head sunk into the pillows as your body weakened from the lack of adrenaline.

The room, quiet as Lavinia tucked the blankets tightly around you and pulled the chair back to the bedside that she must have pushed away when trying to keep up with you earlier.

"There has to be a way I can return home for a while. say goodbye," you spoke in a hushed, and defeated tone, you turned your head to look at Lavinia who now sat in the chair next to you, listening carefully.

"I wouldn't tell them, I'll keep our secret, I promise" You tried to convince her. She gave you a sad smile "You know I can't do that sweet girl" her hand returned to you head like it had been before, slowly and softly.

Your face crumpled as you swallowed back a sob, regret surfacing as you stared at the ceiling “If I was just left alone… if I just stayed home, I might’ve gotten better on my own... Maybe I didn’t need this… Maybe—maybe I wasn’t even that sick…”

Lavinia’s hands cupped your face, anchoring you. Her eyes searched yours with such gentle, unyielding honesty that you felt your resolve falter. “If you’d stayed where you were, my love… you wouldn’t have lived to see another day.”

The truth of her words washed over you, hitting you with the cold finality that left no more room to argue, no words left to bargain. You took in a ragged breath.

Lavinia bent down and took off her shoes, she stood to lay on top of the bed. She gently gathered you bundled in blankets into her arms and hushed you. A silent comfort, loyal to your side the whole night as you tried and failed to fight sleep.

Your old life had truly slipped away in a matter of hours, beyond all bargaining.

...

The days blurred together in a hazy, dim stillness. Lavinia was a constant, hardly ever straying far from your side. If she left, it was only for brief moments to bring you something.

Your body is quite sensitive and even began to ache at certain stimulants, Lavinia did her beast to ease you in any way she could think—warm cloths for your aches, a cup of tea laced with soothing herbs, or a soft book to occupy your mind as you healed.

Your orders were simple: remain in your room, rest, let the change complete itself without resistance. The windows were draped in thick, dark curtains, shielding you from even the gentlest daylight that now pricked painfully at your eyes.

Your ears were particularly sensitive, too, they seemed to ring for hours after your escape attempt. Luckily the house was quiet, and any small sound you did pick up was gentle and low: the soft whisper and footsteps in the halls, a faint clinking of silver in a nearby room, and, on rare occasions, music—a piano drifting down the hall or the gentle hum of strings.

But recently, you'd been allowed to roam the house, and Lavinia had noticed discomfort begin to settle and boredom rise in you. So it's become a bit of a habit to follow her on trips to the kitchen or library like her little shadow.

And on this particular day Lavinia had to go into town to pick up a few things for you, to sooth the ache of your shifting teeth that recently made it hard to even talk.

So instead you were greeted by Soren as evening fell. A gentle knock to the door was enough to stir you awake. Lavinia wasn't by your side and she never knocked, you were tucked in tightly and the smell of a fabric pocket of lavender placed on your pillow that Lavinia insisted would help you sleep.

You sat up a bit "Hello?" you called out to whoever stood on the other-side of the door. The handle turned and the door opened just enough for Soren to slip in, careful to not let too much light and stun you when you'd just woken.

"Lavinia will be away for a few hours, she needed to pick up some things from town but didnt have the heart to wake you to tell you." Soren explained as he walked over to your bedside table and pulled out a palm sized box from his pocket.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone flat but gentler than usual. You nodded, too busy watching as he took out a matchstick and struck it against the box. You rarely saw such a thing—matchsticks were expensive, and you were used to flint and steel. The smell of sulfur tickled your nose, and you grimaced as he lit the candle on your table, the soft glow now illuminating the room.

“Well?” He straightened and looked at you expectantly. You realized he wanted a verbal answer.

“I’m… okay," you replied, though your voice was uncertain. "Everything is just alot... its alot" you tried to explain but just sighed when you couldn't find the words to describe the physical and emotional overstimulation.

Soren nodded, a hint of understanding in his gaze. “I understand,” he said quietly. “Though it was long ago, I still remember how it felt.” He paused, glancing at the faint candlelight. “It will become your new normal soon enough.”

He turned to leave, adding as he reached the door, “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Then, without another word, he slipped out, leaving you alone in the flickering glow.

...

It was that afternoon when you longed to get out of your room, youd left your bed and slipped on your house shoes that Lavinia had placed beside your bed for your nightly wanders. You'd gotten the impression they don't walk around bearfooted, far too sophisticated for that.

You rummaged curiously through the draws, and explored the room a bit closer now. Its fully furnished and some draws had items in them already. Lavinia used this room for any overspill she couldn't fit in her jewellery boxes or hang on the walls. So you came across alot of seemingly collectable things for the finer side of living.

The room itself felt like a small museum of elegant oddities, carefully curated items from a lifestyle you’d only read about. There were small touches of whimsy—a lace fan with fine embroidery, a silver compact mirror with a scene painted on the lid. As nice as it is, it just isn't your room, and you owned nothing in it. Feeling a displaced after rummaging through the room you decided to step out into the hall.

You wandered with careful steps, your fingers drug against the polished banister, eyes explored the pattern of the carpet below you and the intricate door nobs you passed. You found yourself looking out a window in a rather grand drawing room.

The garden is just as grand and beautiful, the hedges and flowers could be considered an art within themselves. The fountains flowing water into a pond could have belonged to a palace for all you know.

A voice broke the quiet behind you, sharp and cutting:

“You shouldn’t linger where you aren’t wanted,” Lucien’s low tone curled through the room, each word edged with contempt. You turned quickly, catching his cold gaze on you. Lavinia had told you about him but she didn't mention how mean he could be, 'anti-social' was the word she used. He sat poised in a grand leather chair in the corner, nearly hidden in shadow, a book open in his hands. You must have missed him when you’d first entered, his stillness as exacting as his words.

“Oh, I… I didn’t realise you were here. Sorry,” you said, your apology almost automatic. Lucien had the same icy air as his father—unpredictable and sharp-edged. And without Lavinia nearby, that feeling only intensified, leaving you feeling exposed.

He didn’t respond immediately, only closed his book with a measured snap that seemed almost a reprimand. He remained seated, but every detail of his posture suggested he was looking down on you all the same.

"You're more trouble than you're worth, some sickly poor kid off the street roaming our halls and using our stuff. How could you possibly benefit us, hm?" He challenged you.

Attempting to avoid confrontation you decided to slip away back to your room, but as your eyes looked towards your escape someone is already there blocking your way.

“No.” Soren’s interruption was swift, his tone final. “You are only disrespecting my wishes,” he continued, his gaze hardening. “This household is built on loyalty and trust. She is part of this family now. My decision isn’t up for debate.”

Lucien’s mouth opened as if to argue, but his words faltered under his father’s stare. He understood well enough: Soren’s decisions, once made, are law within these walls.

“She’s here because I believe it’s best for us—and for your mother,” Soren said, his voice carrying an undeniable weight. “I have accepted her as a daughter, and you will accept her as a sister. I don’t recall you making such a fuss when Dorian arrived.” His eyes narrowed, daring Lucien to continue his defiance.

"That was different, and you know it,” Lucien shot back, his voice low but brimming with frustration. “She’s… she’s just some random girl, a stranger who's disrupting the order here, making a ruckus.”

Soren’s gaze turned cold and cutting. “A stranger? She’s no more a stranger than you were once—and no less than I was, to my own maker. I suggest you remember that.”

Lucien’s jaw clenched, his retort dying on his lips. He could feel the finality in Soren’s tone, a hard line drawn that he knew better than to cross. After a long, silent moment, his shoulders slumped, and he rose to leave, giving Soren a single lingering look before turning toward the door.

As Lucien reached the doorway, Soren delivered his final words. “And I remember you making much more of a ruckus in those early days than she has. Perhaps a bit of empathy would do you good, Lucien.”

Lucien stiffened at the remark, his pride pricked, but he didn’t respond. With a barely-contained scowl, he left the room, the weight of Soren’s words hanging heavily in the air.

Lucien walked down the hall, a muffled laugh echoed from around the corner. Dorian was waiting, clearly having overheard the tail end of the exchange, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to needle his brother.

“Oh, shut it, Dorian.” Lucien snapped, his voice low and venomous as he stormed past, not even sparing his younger sibling a glance. The laughter trailed off down the hall, Dorian probably following his brother to poke more fun at him.

The room felt charged with the memory of his glare and the prickling intensity of the words exchanged. Soren remained silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he turned back to you. He moved with a certain gentleness that seemed unusual for him, crossing the room to stand beside you.

“I apologise for his behaviour,” Soren said quietly, his tone low but steady. “Lucien… he can be difficult. Change has never been easy for him.”

“You’re doing better than we’d expected,” he continued, his voice as steady as ever but touched with something warmer, he glanced away almost like it pained him “Just keep it up.” he gave your back a gentle but curt pat.

"Should he bother you again, you're to come straight to me. I will not tolerate such childishness." he demanded before leaving. A promise of protection.

His sons were carefully picked to continue his legacy. But you aren't here for that, you aren't his protégé, not someone he’s training. More of an indulgence for the family, a calmness and gentleness. He already is letting himself slip into a gentleness that only Lavina sees occasionally.

...

Lavinia returned and you hadn't told her about Lucien's insults just that you had bumped into him briefly, trying to save the family from any more drama that night.

"I've found some herbs that can numb that nasty toothache" Lavinia came into your room with a cup of steaming herbal tea. She gently gave it to you, her hands cradling yours for a moment to make sure you had a steady hold on the cup.

"Thank you" you couldn't wait to get rid of the constant ache in your jaw you quickly began sipping.

"I'm going down for dinner, I'll come and check on you later" her hand smoothing your hair and only leaving when you gave a nod of understanding.

You hated to imagine what she meant by dinner. If the stories are true, they are drinking people dry.

You'd begun to feel that familiar feeling of hunger yesterday, you hadn't eaten since that night you were changed which was days ago- but only now you've started to feel its effects. And have been dreading to ask about it.

The hunger grew slowly though, and it wasn't bad at the moment. You tried not to think about it.

...

You long finished your tea and the discomfort in your gums had settled. By candlelight you doodled in the leatherbound drawing book Lavinia had found for you, using pencils that Lavinia had carefully sharpened.

Until you heard your door creak open, you looked up expecting Lavinia to return. Instead the second son, Dorian, stepped inside and quietly stepped inside.

"Hi" He grinned stepping further into the room "Hello?" you responded in more of a question.

He chuckled softly at the apprehension in your voice "Don't worry, I'm not as crude as my brother. I don't intend to interrogate you" With that, he settled comfortably in Lavinia’s chair beside your bed.

"What are you drawing?" He asks casually, leaning in his elbows resting on his knees, trying to bridge the gap with some small talk. "Nothing interesting, just sketches... shouldn't you be at dinner?" you murmured, still guarded.

“Technically, yes" he admitted with a laugh, "but dinners finished, and they are having some boring conversations. And I thought I’d formally introduce myself.” His smile was warm "I'm Dorian, by the way. No longer the baby of the family, thanks to you," he added, a glint of humour in his eyes.

You relaxed just a little, feeling the genuine friendliness in his tone. There was a warmth about him, a sharp contrast to Lucien's harshness.

“Lucky me,” you replied dryly, but a small smile crept in.

Dorian noticed you at ease and leaned back, folding his arms in pride "You know, it took me a while to get used to this place too. It can be... intimidating. But you are doing great okay?"

The kindness in his voice, and his way of words is very much like Lavinia helped ease some tension from your shoulders.

“It’s… different,” you admitted, looking away, “but I guess I don’t have much choice now.”

Dorian nodded, understanding. “No, but that’s the thing about this family. Once you’re in, you’re in for good. Besides-” he added with a wink, “I could use an ally. Lucien can be... a handful and fathers a bit of a grump”

You laughed -more genuinely this time, as he grinned back at you.

Dorian fussed over you a bit, recounting his aches and discomforts from his turning and asking if you were okay. You assured him that Lavinia had been taking good care of you.

Curiosity got the best of you while talking about tooth pain "The fangs... Its like in the stories right?" You couldn't get to the point hoping he'd understand where you are coming from.

His face fell a bit, you think its the first time seeing him not smile "You're asking about blood, right?" he clarified. You nodded hesitantly "...Do I have to drink it? Do you kill people?" in a hushed wisper

“Yes, it’s like in the stories,” he began, voice low and gentle. “The fangs, the… need for blood. But it’s not as simple or as brutal as you might think. We don’t hurt anyone innocent.” He paused, giving you a reassuring glance. “But we do still need it, and some people are victims of that"

he chose his words carefully, watching your face for any signs of being overwhelmed "But never the innocent, we pick the ones who deserve less mercy." He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, the warmth grounding you "And yes -You will have to drink soon, but from cups for a while, you won't have to be a part of that process right away- or ever if that's how you choose to do it. I'll do all the messy work for you if you want"

Having Dorian’s explanation helped more than you’d expected. With the worst of your fears quieted, though still dreading the inevitable, you managed a small “Okay,” as much for yourself as for him.

Dorian’s eyes softened with understanding. “We’ll help you through it,” he promised, his hand squeezing yours a few more times, gentle and reassuring. “Try not to dwell on it too much. It’s just one step at a time.”

“Five hundred?!” you repeated, incredulous. He chuckled, brushing it off. “Oh, that’s a conversation for another time. I think you’ve had your fill of life-changing revelations today” he teased. “But on the bright side, I’ll never run out of stories for you—five centuries of bedtime tales at your disposal.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you shifted your sketchbook to sit between you, handing him a pencil. “Alright, another time then” you agreed, the tension in your chest easing. Side by side, you both began to draw, with him casting sidelong glances to mimic your strokes.

Growing up, your older brothers were always too busy to pay you much attention. But sitting here now, Dorian’s easy company made you wonder if he might just be the big brother you’d always wanted. You just hoped Lucian is a fraction as good at being a brother as Dorian is.

[toxic3mmy]

prompt: you wake up in a girl’s body and fuck your best friend

okay soooo, i got this idea from an ao3 one shot i read the other day and well, this came outta it

it may not be everyones cup of tea but i always loved gay fics where one guy magically turned into a woman??

IDK

ALSO IM REALLY DEPRESSED SO I LIED ABT GETTING TO UR REQUESTS DONT HATE MEEEE MY BOOBIES <3

warnings: SMUTTTT, mentions of witchcraft and body switching

you and quackity were best friends from a very young age. you and him were inseparable, as if you were one person.

the two of you went through school together. everything changed when his youtube career took off and he changed his focus to that which of course you didn’t mind. you thought it was so awesome the way he was passionate about this.

the two of you were so close that living together through college eventually turned into living together as adults. now, you were working at a law firm as an intern while alex pursued his online career.

truthfully, you were in love with your best friend. you had been from a very young age, it was only natural for you to fall so hard for him.

on a drunken night, you decided to come clean. you told him how much he meant to you. you confessed that you were in love with him.

he smiled sadly and hugged you close

“i wish you were a girl”

those were his drunken words and the two of you never spoke about it again

but within your friend group, everyone liked to tease the two of you as if you were gay together. of course you would enjoy every single interaction like this, hell you two were even dared to kiss once!

it was too easy to fall for your best friend

—

you had gone to visit your family in mexico for a few days and finally you were home. you walked into your shared home as quickly and quietly as possible so that you didn’t wake alex up.

your trip was great. you got to catch up with family and spend some quality time together.

while there, you confessed to your favorite and closest cousin about your feelings for alexis. she was very accepting of your sexuality and even encouraged you to go for it.

you filled her in on what happened when you did confess to alex and her eyes lit up with a devious look. she had an idea and although you were a bit skeptical, you agreed.

you knew she was learning the traditions of brujeria in your family and you were really interested in it. but what she wanted to do was crazy. she wanted to try something new and of course you agreed, not expecting anything to come of it because of how impossible it seemed.

so the two of you spent the last day of your trip together so that she could work on it. and well, you went home that same night.

the next day, you woke up like any normal day. you sluggishly walked to the bathroom and relieved yourself. you felt a warmth trickling down your legs and you were speeachless

“aw shit” you murmured to yourself as you knelt down to clean the floor of your piss

you couldn’t believe it worked

you looked at yourself in the mirror and loved what you saw. your face was a bit more round, your hair reached your ass now, and you had a great rack. you were ecstatic, practically gawking over yourself

and then the fear set in when alex knocked on your door saying that breakfast was ready

“uh… im not feeling well! go ahead and eat without me, thanks” you said, trying your hardest to deepen your voice

“are you sure? whats wrong? your voice sounds weird, are you sick?” he asked worriedly

“i think it’s a virus or something, don’t worry”

“i wanted to have a little day with you since you’re back from mexico… i guess we could postpone it until you feel better”

“thanks” you said quickly, hoping he would go already

“are you… going to stay in there all day? i mean, at least let me in so i can take care of you” he sighed, resting his head against the door

“n-no! im fine, really!”

“c’mon y/n, let me in so i can at least make sure you don’t die in there” he laughed

there was absolutely no way to hide this

“okay but… please don’t freak out” you said as you quickly started to look for a t shirt to put on

all you had on were loose boxers but they felt weird. you didn’t have any bras, obviously, and so you had no choice but to wear a tight fitting white wife beater

“i wont” alexis said softly

“close your eyes”

he obliged and you carefully unlocked the door, leading him into the bedroom

“before you open your eyes, i think i need to—“

he opened his eyes and his mouth dropped

“um… what…?”

“please let me explain!”

“okay, who are you… i get it if you wanted an autograph or a picture but what the hell?? why are you in my house right now?”

“what?… alexis! i’m not some crazed fan that broke in! it’s me.. it’s y/n..” you exclaimed

“no you’re not, what the fuck are you talking about! look, i don’t believe in hitting women but if you don’t leave my goddamn house in three seconds, you’re toast buddy!” he yelped and picked up the nearest weapon like thing which just so happened to be a lamp

you blinked at his attempt at being tough and burst out laughing uncontrollably

“lady! i am so serious! what the hell is wrong with you? oh my god… you escaped a mental hospital and you’re using my house as a hideout aren’t you?!”

you couldn’t stop laughing at him, this was just way too hilarious!

“okay i am dialing 911–“

“wait! please… just listen to me okay? i didn’t expect for this to happen… but it’s me. it’s y/n”

“you really are a nut, aren’t you?”

“i can prove it! look… it’s the matching tattoo we got when we were 18” you pulled your t shirt down to show the tattoo littered on your collarbone

he put down the lamp and sat on your bed. he didn’t know what to think. he nervously ran his hand through his hair

“oh god… how did this—?”

“i—i” you stuttered, trying to figure out if you should tell him the truth

“i swear you didn’t have tits the last time i saw you… and your face looks so… different” he softly held your chin in his hand, studying your newly feminine features

“brujeria” you blurted out, cheeks flushed with his touch on your face igniting a fire inside your chest

“w-what?”

“i… my family does brujeria and i tried this new thing and i swear i didn’t expect it to work! ive heard of it working but ive never seen it for myself and well…”

“so… you did this to yourself?”

you nodded, almost feeling shame

“but why?”

“i had a talk with my cousin in mexico and well… you told me you wished that i were a girl…. and i thought maybe things could be easier this way, better, even. i really didn’t think it would happen…”

“so…” alexis cleared his throat, “you’re um, fully a female now?” his face turned red in an instant and you couldn’t help but laugh

“yeah, i mean, i went to use the bathroom and that’s when i noticed…”

“no way…”

“yeah..”

“and so… why are you practically naked?” he laughed nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants

“dude! look at these fucking tits! i don’t own any bras and god they’re already giving me back pain.. i need to get dressed so i can go back and see my cousin or see a doctor! i can’t stay like this—”

he stayed quiet for a while before saying breathlessly,

“i don’t want you to go”

“i… i have to go… i have to fix this” you said quietly as you began to rummage through your drawers to find suitable underwear since you obviously didn’t own any panties. you changed into boxer briefs and shrugged. it would have to do

alex quietly stood from where he was sitting and he stood behind you, looking down at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before

“god.. you’re so tall” you whispered as you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him

“you’re so fucking short, it’s really cute” he smiled before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder

“hey! what the hell! put me down!” you squirmed in his arms and that earned a harsh smack to your boxer clad ass

he took you to his bedroom and practically threw you onto his bed. he stared at you with the same look as before, his eyes filled with lust, as he threw his beanie to the ground and took off his t shirt. he threw his shirt somewhere behind him before slowly making his way to you.

you were sat up with your knees to your chest against the wall

“u-uhm.. why um.. why are we here? i told you i have to go!! i have to fix this shit” you rambled nervously, earning a deep chuckle from alexis

“shh, just let me admire you..” he was now next to you on the bed as he carefully tucked your hair behind your ear

“what are we doing alex?” your whisper dissipated into the thick tense air surrounding the two of you

alexis didn’t respond, instead he gently grabbed the hem of your t shirt and pulled it off of your body. your new set of tits were now on display, your nipples perking up instantly as your best friend trailed his fingertips along your chest. you hiss at the sensation of his cold hands and you feel something beginning to build up inside, just beneath your bellybutton

“o-okay…i get it, it get it. this is about that stupid thing we talked about! look, it was funny back then but right now it’s not okay, i need to see my cousin or a fucking doctor!”

“you mean that thing about how if one of us woke up as a chick then we’d fuck?” he laughed, now trailing his fingers underneath your chin

“y-yeah but it was hypothetical! i didn’t think we’d ever actually be in this situation i mean, it’s just not normal!”

“so, do you want me to stop?” he murmured against your neck, leaving tiny butterfly kisses there

“i-i don’t know okay? but it doesn’t help when you’re touching me and you have your lips on me and god damn i forgot how sexy you looked without a shirt on…”

“you think this is easy for me? feel what you do to me, baby girl” he guided your hand to his clothed dick and your eyes went wide with how hard he was

“oh my god… stop it! fucking shit dude! you can’t just have me touching your dick! a-and now im fucking leaking or something, i don’t know! it’s all warm and wet down here! i don’t know what to do!” you complained, almost whining, not realizing that what you needed was him inside of you

“yeah? i bet your tight little cunt is soaked, isn’t it?” he asked, almost hovering above you

you couldn’t respond, you were too overwhelmed with so many emotions at once

alexis began to lean into you more and more and god it was getting harder to resist him as his strong cologne infiltrated your little brain

finally, his lips were on yours. he kissed you so gently, as if at any moment you could break. you pulled him closer to you and wrapped your arms around his toned back, melting into him

one of his hands balanced him above you while his other hand began to play with your perky tits. you were grinding into him as he rolled your sensitive nipple in between his thumb and forefinger

“o-oh my god! that feels amazing..” you bucked into him more, rubbing your cunt against his leg. you were so frustrated and begging silently for any kind of friction

“slow down princesa, there’s no rush. i promise ill take care of you, okay?” he said in a sweet voice that only turned you on even more

you nodded and your eyebrows furrowed together as his mouth was now attached to one of your boobs, the other was pinching at your already sensitive nipple. you let out soft whimpers as he pawed at your chest delightfully

“g-god… this feels so wrong but so fucking good” you said breathlessly, earning a little laugh from the boy above you

his lips kissed and sucked a trail lower and lower until he reached your boxers. he licked his lips and hooked his fingers under the waistband, sliding them down your legs. you were trembling as he kissed down the front of your pussy. finally, he ran his tongue flat against what you now knew was your clit. your hands instantly buried themselves in his soft hair, pulling it in the process

“you okay?” he asked, pausing for a second. you nodded furiously and he got back to work instantly

his tongue ran circles around the bundle of nerves that were now throbbing. you bucked your hips further into his face without even noticing

suddenly, you felt a finger at your entrance. it stung ever so slightly and immediately turned into pleasure as he curved it upwards. he pumped his finger into you and continued lapping at your swollen bud. the second he added another finger, tears were rolling down your face

“just like that! oh fuck..” you cursed, back arching as you reached up and clung onto his bedsheets

alex was basically making out with your clit now. his two long fingers were curved perfectly inside of you. you were bouncing on his fingers at this point. it all felt so so good

“you taste so good y/n” alex said as he came up for air momentarily

your hands came down and were now shoving his face in between your trembling thighs. his tongue moved even faster now, syncing with his fingers that were plunging into you.

you were restless, squirming and writhing as the sound of your moans and your wetness filled the room. you felt yourself chasing your climax. your thighs clamped shut, forcing alex to stay right there and not move an inch.

as your walls clenched around your best friend’s fingers, alex was being completely engulfed in your sweet pussy. his fingers curved up one more time inside of you and your body paused completely.

you saw stars and felt yourself leaking cum out onto his fingers. you caught your breath and closed your eyes. after a few moments, alex broke the silence

“so… was i any good?” alex asked, wiping your juices from his chin, a shit eating grin on his lips

“shut your mouth and take off your pants” you rolled your eyes

alexis laughed loudly and obliged, gaking off the remaining clothes he had on. you instantly sat up on your knees, your attention completely on him

you took over, pushing his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. his erection sprang free, and you stared at it with a mix of fascination and hunger. He watched your gaze, feeling a surge of pride and desire that made him ache even more

“holy shit! dude, your dick is huge!” you said in awe, almost drooling

“open up princess” he smiled and pumped himself gently

you opened your mouth gingerly. as he lay his tip on your tongue, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. your other hand cupped his balls, grabbing at them

“you… you sure you haven’t sucked a dick before? you’re doing this so well” he grunted

“believe it or not, your dick is the first to ever touch these lips” you laughed and took him into your mouth almost entirely

alexis whimpered, one of his hands pushing the back of your head onto him further

of course you choked but alex was still enjoying this and you were definitely taking in every little whiny sound he made

you sucked his tip gently, and looked up at him through your doe eyes with your pupils blown completely, your lips wet and swollen, hair a mess, and alex almost came at the sight

“lay down” he said gently but firmly

you did as he told you and alex propped your legs up as if he were going to eat your pussy a second time. instead, he slipped himself in between your legs and hovered over you

carefully, he entered you, savoring the tightness that surrounded him. you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you adjusted to the sensation of his thickness stretching you. he waited, giving you a moment to breathe, before he began to move.

alex was in pure bliss, loving how warm and tight your cunt was. he completely forgot that this was your first time doing this, involuntarily speeding up before immediately stopping as you made a sound of pain

“okay look i respect you, you have game dude but jesus christ you need to fucking chill ! i’ve never done this shit before… at least not with a pussy” you tried to laugh off the sting

“i am so sorry y/n, you just feel so fucking good around me. i didn’t mean to hurt you, princesa” he spoke with a worried expression on his face

“sit back, okay?” you said suddenly and alex laid down, watching you crawl into his lap. a smirk made its way onto his face as he realized what you were doing

you straddled him, slowly taking him into you as you sat all the way down on his lap. you still felt some pain but it wasn’t as bad. you slowly lifted yourself up and slid back down again, your hand on his belly as he watched you intently

you gasped as his fingers pressed against your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. your hips picked up the pace, seeking more, and he eagerly gave it, his movements growing more deliberate with every moan that escaped your lips.

“take it like a good girl… “ alexis groaned as his head fell back in pleasure

you continued to move, his cock hitting you at the perfect angle inside and the pressure of his digits on your clit motivating you to go faster

“that’s it, princess” alexis praised as he watched you bounce up and down

his free hand found your breasts, kneading them as you rode him, your breaths growing more ragged with every thrust

“oh god, you’re so fucking deep! a-alex!” you moaned as you rode his cock

your pace was slowing down as you were growing tired. alex sat up and held you close. your arms rested around his neck and you kissed him passionately as he thrusted into you while you sat on his lap

“say my name again baby, say it” he kissed you on the mouth roughly as his hands held your hips in place and he fucked into you faster now

“alex! fuck… i’ve wanted your cock inside of me for so fucking long, i need more, please!” you pleaded

your eyes locked onto his, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you felt another orgasm building. your walls tightened around him, and you could see the effect it was having on him, his jaw clenching and his eyes darkening with lust. you leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest, and whispered into his ear, "I'm going to cum on your big fucking cock”

your movements grew erratic as alex pushed you back slightly, giving you a new angle for him to fuck you senselessly in. the two of you made a sort of ‘v’ shape in this new position as you leaned away from one another and your sex met his in perfect rhythm

your nails dug into his hands that were on your hips, leaving half-moons that would surely bruise. he didn't care, the pain only added to his pleasure, heightening every sensation

the sight was too much for him. your fucked out expression begging for more, your supple tits bouncing as your hips crashed together. he lost control, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm. he filled you with his warmth, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you.

you came immediately after he did, loving the way you felt his thick cock twitch inside of you

you stopped moving and collapsed onto his chest, your breathing ragged and your heart pounding like a drum in her ears. alexis wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your breathing gradually returned to normal

“you okay?” he asked, he felt your body trembling again

“yeah, just hold me okay?” you nuzzled into his chest

“okay” he said, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Mutual Jealousy | Sebastian Sallow x OC #6

he's so unimpressed with evie in this one... but then again she's not so happy with seb either

Summary: Evangeline and Sebastian navigate growing attention from others, their unspoken feelings simmer dangerously beneath the surface. Evangeline accepts a date with Lysander Clearwater while Sebastian gets busy in a broom closet.

Words: 7,582

Tags: Unspoken Feelings, Post-Canon, Friends to Lovers (Implied), Friendship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Angst, Hogwarts, Implied Smut

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

The early November chill settled over Hogwarts like a thin veil, leaving the Quidditch pitch shrouded in mist. Evangeline adjusted her gloves, tightening her grip on her bat as she surveyed the field. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been assigned the pitch for joint practice today, the field split between the two teams, with each side running their drills in tandem. The atmosphere was charged, competitive energy buzzing in the air as the two teams zoomed through plays and formations, occasionally crossing into each other’s side of the pitch.

Evangeline’s gaze swept across the field, past where Gryffindor’s Chasers were practicing a new maneuver. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a Ravenclaw player—Lysander Clearwater—flying a bit closer than usual, his attention focused on intercepting a Quaffle. She barely had a second to react when she saw the glint of an incoming Bludger streaking directly toward him, seemingly unnoticed as he focused on his target.

Without hesitation, she shot forward, swinging her bat in a wide arc and meeting the Bludger mid-flight. The impact reverberated through her arms as she sent the ball flying off in a new direction, safely away from Lysander. He glanced up, startled, his gaze meeting hers across the field, and a smile broke across his face as he registered what had happened.

“Thanks!” he called, lifting a hand in a grateful wave before returning his focus to his drill. Evangeline smirked, nodding in acknowledgment before turning her attention back to her own teammates. The exchange left her with a small thrill of satisfaction as she continued through practice, her movements sharper and more focused.

When practice finally wound down, players from both teams began to land on the pitch, dismounting from their brooms and chatting as they headed toward the changing rooms. Evangeline had just landed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, when she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Lysander. His face was flushed from the cold air, his blond hair wind-tousled and falling over his forehead in a way that highlighted his striking blue eyes. He wore an easygoing smile, the kind that seemed to draw people in without effort.

“Evangeline, right?” he asked, though his tone was warm with familiarity. “That was quite a save back there. I’d probably be seeing stars right now if you hadn’t intercepted that Bludger.”

She grinned, shrugging off the compliment. “It’s all part of the job. Can’t have our star players getting injured before the season even starts, can we?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I appreciate it all the same. You’re a solid Beater—I could probably use a few pointers for defense myself.”

"Is that so? No comments about me being too small or looking out of place as a Beater?" she replied, a hint of challenge in her tone.

Lysander’s eyes widened, and he shook his head with an earnest smile. "Not at all! If anything, you’re proof that size doesn’t mean a thing when it comes to skill. You’ve got serious power behind those swings.”

Evangeline felt a rush of warmth at his words. She’d grown used to hearing all the comments—usually well-meaning, but often dismissive—about her stature. But Lysander seemed to see her as she was, not just as someone defying expectations.

“Thanks,” she said, a bit more softly. “Most people aren’t so… encouraging.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, that’s their loss, isn’t it? Anyone can see you’re as tough as they come. I’ve actually been meaning to watch more of your practices. You make it look easy out there.”

Her grin widened at the compliment, feeling a rare, unguarded confidence settle over her. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. But if you’re ever looking for a challenge, I’d be happy to show you a few defensive moves.”

“Is that an offer?” he asked, his blue eyes bright with interest.

“Only if you’re brave enough to face a Gryffindor Beater,” she teased.

“Consider me very interested,” he replied, his gaze steady and warm.

For a moment, their eyes met, and the usual chill of the evening air felt a bit warmer. Lysander’s easy demeanor and the confidence in his tone left her feeling lighter.

But before she could respond, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye—a flash of familiar dark curls and a piercing gaze that could only belong to one person.

Sebastian was watching them from across the field, his face unreadable but his stance tense, as if every muscle in his body was wound tight. His gaze flicked from her to Lysander, a shadow of something she couldn’t quite place lingering in his eyes.

She turned back to Lysander, offering him a smile in spite of the strange tension coiling in her stomach. "Well, then. Let me know when you’re ready for that challenge."

“Will do, Evangeline.” He shot her one last, lingering look before heading back to join the rest of his team.

As he walked off, she stole another glance at Sebastian. She wasn’t sure why, but something about his expression left her feeling unsettled.

"Sallow," she greeted him, folding her arms with a playful smirk. "Spying on the competition, are we?"

Sebastian didn’t smile. Instead, he held her gaze, his eyes dark and intense in a way that sent an odd shiver down her spine. "Just watching out for Gryffindor’s star Beater," he replied, his tone light but edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

"I think I can take care of myself," Evangeline chuckled, "Were you here when I intercepted that bludger?"

“Yeah, I saw,” he replied, his voice tight. His gaze shifted in the direction Lysander had gone, a flicker of something like irritation crossing his face. "Didn’t think you’d be sharing Beater tips with the competition, though.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “He was just thanking me for stopping him from getting hit. I’d say that’s just basic Quidditch etiquette, wouldn’t you?”

Sebastian shrugged, crossing his arms. "Sure."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow at Sebastian’s short reply, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and amusement at his strange behavior. He was usually the first to jump in with teasing or witty remarks, but today there was something off, a hint of something guarded in his tone. She shook it off, figuring he was just having an off day, and instead gave him a small nudge.

“Anyway, enough about me playing nice with the Ravenclaws,” she said with a grin. “Are you ready to grab something to eat? I’m absolutely starving.”

That did the trick—his expression softened immediately, and the hint of tension in his stance melted as a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “Always ready to eat,” he replied, offering her a lopsided smile. “Besides, I think you owe me for keeping me waiting out here in the cold.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, playfully nudging him again as they turned and began walking back toward the castle. The chill in the air had settled deep into her muscles, and she relished the thought of the warm Great Hall and the promise of a hearty meal.

As they made their through the castle, the chatter of students filled the corridors, and they fell into an easy rhythm, trading jabs and comments about practice, the lingering shadows of Sebastian's odd behaviour seemingly forgotten—at least for the moment.

But as they took their seats in the bustling Great Hall, Sebastian’s gaze drifted across the room, and she noticed his eyes linger on a group of Hufflepuff girls who seemed to have been watching him since they walked in. One of them smiled and whispered to her friend, who laughed as they both looked in Sebastian’s direction.

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange twist in her chest. She forced herself to focus on her plate, telling herself it didn’t matter. Sebastian was just a friend, and he was free to entertain any attention he wanted.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, the twist in her chest didn’t ease, so she distracted herself by spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate with more force than necessary. Next to her, Sebastian raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face as he noticed her rather aggressive serving.

“Blimey, Evie,” he teased, nudging her. “Those potatoes have done nothing to deserve your wrath.”

She forced a laugh, shrugging. “Just building up my strength for Gryffindor’s next match. You wouldn’t understand, Slytherin.”

He laughed, though he seemed only half-invested, his gaze flicking back to the other table. She gritted her teeth, unable to keep the bite of irritation from her tone.

“See something interesting over there?” she asked, feigning nonchalance as she took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Sebastian gave her an innocent look, though his eyes held a glimmer of mischief. “Just… observing. You know, studying the social dynamics of our dear classmates.”

Evangeline tried to brush off his nonchalant answer, but the glint of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. Since the start of term, it seemed like Sebastian had become something of a sensation among the female students. Sure, he’d always been popular—Sebastian was the type of person who could charm his way out of nearly any situation, his effortless confidence and easy smile making him the center of attention wherever he went. But this year, it had escalated. It was as if half the girls at Hogwarts had woken up and suddenly realized just how… intriguing Sebastian Sallow really was.

She’d had more than a few girls approach her in recent weeks, questions tinged with curiosity and, sometimes, just a hint of jealousy. They’d ask her about him, insisting that, as his best friend, she surely knew him better than anyone. And she supposed they were right. But every time a girl approached her with a subtle—or, more often, blatant—query about his “type” or his “favourite place to go in Hogsmeade,” Evangeline had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn’t really blame them, though. Sebastian was… well, undeniably attractive.

There was something in the way he carried himself, that unshakeable confidence tempered with a mischievous glint that made him seem like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else. His dark curls had grown slightly longer, often tousled in that way that made him look like he’d just stepped off his broom. His warm brown eyes had a way of lighting up whenever he was scheming or teasing someone, and that boyish grin of his—crooked and a little too smug—seemed to captivate anyone who dared to meet it.

But it wasn’t just his looks. Sebastian had a magnetic energy that made people feel drawn to him, like they were in on some secret joke when they were with him. He was sharp-witted, quick with a comeback, and fiercely loyal to the people he cared about. And if his growing collection of admirers had any clue just how protective and caring he could be, Evangeline figured the line of hopefuls would double in length.

"Evangeline?"

“Evangeline?”

She stiffened, her fork pausing mid-air as his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She met his deep brown gaze, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of it. She’d seen his face a thousand times, knew the lines and angles of it like the back of her hand. But somehow, he always seemed to catch her by surprise. His skin was permanently tanned from long hours in the sun, with a natural flush that highlighted his cheekbones, and faint freckles dusted across his nose that made him look just a bit softer. But his eyes, deep and unwavering, held a warmth that seemed to pierce through her.

Her heart did a small, traitorous skip, and she quickly looked down, clearing her throat as she tried to steady herself. “Sorry—what did you say?”

Sebastian’s brows lifted, his lips curving into that familiar, crooked smile. “Lost in thought, were we?” he teased, leaning forward with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Just thinking about our next match,” she said, keeping her tone light as she pushed her peas around. “Gryffindor’s got to stay sharp if we’re going to crush Slytherin.”

He chuckled, his gaze still fixed on her in that slightly unsettling, knowing way. “Right. Definitely looked like some intense Quidditch strategizing going on there.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart raced under his scrutiny. “Well, someone’s got to keep focused around here. Meanwhile, you’re too busy being the Great Hall’s new celebrity.”

He leaned back, raising an eyebrow as if amused by the accusation. “Can I help it if people finally appreciate my charm and wit?”

Evangeline snorted, unable to resist the smirk that crept onto her face. “Appreciate it? You’re practically fending off fans with a broomstick these days. You could probably sell autographs.”

Sebastian laughed, shrugging, though a flicker of something crossed his expression—just a hint of discomfort, quickly replaced with his usual confidence. “Maybe I should. Could make a few galleons on the side. But,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping a little, “I’d never charge you, Evie.”

She waved him off with a scoff, he voice flat. “Lucky me. I’ll treasure it.”

But even as they continued their playful banter, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in her chest, nor could she ignore the way her thoughts kept circling back to the attention he was getting, the attention that had become more noticeable with every passing week. And the worst part was, she couldn't even be upset about it, because she had no right to be. After all, Sebastian was just her friend—her best friend, at that—and he was free to flirt, charm, and bask in attention however he wanted. She should be happy for him, really. He’d always enjoyed a bit of spotlight, and if the girls at Hogwarts had finally realized what she’d known all along—that he was clever and magnetic and far too charming for his own good—then that was fine.

Or at least, it should’ve been.

"...are you going to actually eat anything?" Sebastian's voice was softer now, his gaze fixed on her with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Evangeline blinked, realizing she’d been absentmindedly pushing her food around her plate, barely touching it.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, forcing a quick smile as she speared a potato and took a hasty bite, hoping it would mask the unease brewing beneath the surface. But his gaze didn’t waver; he was watching her closely, like he could see right through the flimsy shield of her smile.

“Evie…” He leaned in, lowering his voice, a flicker of worry in his brown eyes. "You have been eating, haven't you? You know, since we... talked about..."

Evangeline felt her stomach twist, caught off guard by the concern in his eyes. The reminder of their conversation a couple months ago—the one where he'd confronted her about that damned muffin she picked to pieces instead of eating—felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. She looked away, busying herself with cutting a piece of roast, though her appetite had vanished entirely.

“Yeah, I’ve been eating,” she said lightly, trying to keep her tone dismissive. “Just... maybe not as much as you.”

He let out a small huff of laughter, though it sounded forced, his eyes never leaving her. “Alright. But if something's going on, you can talk to me, you know.”

She met his gaze again, feeling a pang of guilt at the worry etched in his face. Part of her wanted to brush it off with another joke, but the sincerity in his expression made it hard to do so. There were no teasing smirks now, no crooked grins. Just Sebastian—her Sebastian—looking at her with that unwavering loyalty, his eyes full of something that made her heart ache.

"Seriously," she assured him, giving his hand a gentle pat, her fingers lingering on the familiar warmth of his skin, roughened slightly from Quidditch practice and dueling spells.

“I’m fine, Sebastian. Promise,” she added, her voice softening as she tried to ease the worry in his eyes.

He searched her face for a moment longer, and she could see the conflict there—half of him wanting to believe her, the other half reluctant to let it go.

Finally, he nodded, though the worry didn’t fully fade from his expression. He held her gaze a beat longer before shifting his tone, an almost playful glint sneaking back into his eyes.

“So… Clearwater, then?” he asked, his voice light, though she didn’t miss the way his fingers subtly tightened around his goblet.

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. “This again? Sebastian, he just thanked me for stopping him from being knocked out.”

“Mhm,” Sebastian hummed, his gaze narrowing slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s why he looked like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup while you were talking. And he asked you for ‘pointers,’ didn’t he?”

She felt her cheeks warm further but shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, maybe he’s just… appreciative of good teamwork.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Sebastian’s smirk deepened, though his eyes held a hint of something sharper, something he was trying to disguise under his usual teasing. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You should watch yourself with Clearwater. He’s got a reputation, you know. Doesn’t exactly… stay loyal to the people he charms.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, amused at his sudden protectiveness. “Are you really lecturing me on loyalty, Mr. I’ve Been Flirting With Half of Hogwarts Since Term Started?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before chuckling softly, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. “That’s different,” he said, brushing it off. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

"What is it you two are bickering about this time?" Ominis’s dry voice interrupted, cutting through their playful back-and-forth as he slid onto the bench beside them.

Sebastian leaned back, rolling his eyes but grinning. “Just sharing some wisdom about the pitfalls of inter-house ‘friendships.’”

Evangeline scoffed, nudging Sebastian’s shoulder with her own. “Apparently, Lysander Clearwater isn’t up to Sallow standards.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, turning his head toward Sebastian, a wry smile ghosting his lips. “And here I thought your standards had been loosened by half the female population at Hogwarts. Pot, meet kettle.”

Sebastian groaned, looking between his two friends with a playfully exasperated look. “What’s this? Ganging up on me now? You both know that’s hardly fair.”

“Hardly fair?” Evangeline smirked, her eyes twinkling. “You started it. Apparently, Lysander looking my way is cause for a full inspection.”

Ominis chuckled softly, reaching for a roll and tearing it in half. “I assume he's already attacking poor Clearwater's character."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, though there was a slight twitch in his jaw as he tried to keep his expression casual. “I’m not attacking his character,” he protested, though his tone was defensive. “Just… pointing out that he’s got a reputation, that’s all.”

“Ah, yes,” Ominis said dryly, dipping his roll into his soup. “The renowned Sebastian Sallow, Protector of Morals and Character Assessment.”

Evangeline laughed, covering her mouth as she shot Sebastian an amused look as Ominis continued, “Lysander is a perfectly respectable Ravenclaw. As respectable as they come, actually. Unlike some people,” he added, raising an eyebrow in Sebastian’s direction.

Sebastian huffed, clearly unimpressed. “Respectable? Please. The guy flirts with anything that moves.”

“Oh, so it’s fine when you do it, but not when he does?” Evangeline teased, nudging him. “Sounds a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to retort but hesitated, searching for a suitable comeback. He ended up shrugging instead, though the slight flush in his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s different. I’m not trying to charm you into anything.”

The words lingered in the air, a thoughtless remark tossed out in the heat of their banter. But as they settled, Evangeline felt a prickling sting she hadn’t expected. He’d said it so casually—I’m not trying to charm you into anything—as if the idea of wanting to charm her was laughable.

Her smile faltered, the laughter between them fading like the last glow of a dying ember. She turned her face away, hiding the flicker of hurt that had crept into her eyes. For a heartbeat, she tried to push it aside, to pretend it didn’t matter, but the words stuck, a quiet ache settling in her chest.

Sebastian must have realized it too because his smirk vanished, replaced by a look of dawning regret as he watched her, but she was already looking down at her plate, jaw tight, unwilling to let him see how much his careless comment had landed. Ominis, observing the silent exchange, let out a sigh, clearly exasperated with the two of them, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table.

He was used to their back-and-forth, but lately, he’d been watching this game between them with a blend of fondness and frustration, certain they were the only two in the castle who couldn’t see what was right in front of them.

Evangeline straightened, feeling the weight of Sebastian’s gaze on her, but she didn’t dare look back. If he couldn’t see her as someone worth noticing, maybe someone else could. She pushed herself up from the table abruptly, drawing curious glances from both boys.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian asked, a hint of alarm creeping into his voice as she turned from him, refusing to meet his gaze.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she let her eyes drift across the hall, settling on the Ravenclaw table where Lysander sat among his friends, laughing over something. The sight of his easygoing smile brought a small sense of defiance blooming in her chest, and without another word, she strode over to the Ravenclaws, her chin held high.

Ominis watched her go, then turned to Sebastian, his expression flat with annoyance and pity. “Well done,” he said dryly, clearly unimpressed. “You’re truly a master of tact, Sallow.”

Sebastian barely heard him, his eyes fixed on Evangeline as she approached Lysander’s table. She was smiling now, though he could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the forced cheer in her expression as she struck up a conversation with the Ravenclaw Chaser. A knot twisted in his stomach as he watched Lysander’s face light up, his grin widening as Evangeline said something that made him laugh.

For a moment, Sebastian felt a pang of something hot and fierce that he didn’t want to name. He wanted to look away, pretend it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the scene. The way Lysander leaned in, the way Evangeline tilted her head with a smile—it stirred something raw inside him.

“Jealous?” Ominis asked, his voice cutting through Sebastian’s thoughts with maddening calmness.

Sebastian shot him a glare, bristling. “Of course not,” he muttered, but his voice sounded too tight, too strained to be convincing. He looked back toward Evangeline, who was now laughing at something Lysander had said, her head thrown back in a way that made her seem… free.

“Oh, of course,” Ominis drawled, crossing his arms. “That’s why you look ready to hex poor Clearwater where he sits.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw, his fists tightening under the table. “He’s… she doesn’t even like him,” he muttered, trying to sound unconcerned, but his eyes never left her.

"Maybe not yet," Ominis replied, his tone sharpening as he watched Sebastian’s face. "But surely you must realize that telling the woman you're in love with that you're not interested in her won’t exactly bring her closer, will it?"

Sebastian felt his stomach drop, his eyes snapping to Ominis. “I didn’t say I’m in—” he started, his voice low, but Ominis cut him off with a look, one that spoke volumes.

“Oh, spare me,” Ominis said, his exasperation clear. “Anyone with half a brain can see it, and I don’t even need my eyes.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped, his gaze flickering over to where Evangeline sat, laughing with Lysander as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She looked… happy. And that, somehow, made the ache in his chest even worse.

“Look, it’s not as simple as you think,” Sebastian muttered, finally tearing his eyes away. “She… she’s my best friend. If she knew… well, what if it ruins everything?”

Ominis sighed, setting down his spoon with a deliberate clink. "If she knew, she might understand why you’re behaving like a jealous idiot.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of Ominis’s words settling over him, heavy and irrefutable. Deep down, he knew his friend was right. He knew that this quiet jealousy simmering beneath his skin would only push her further away, that he was risking something valuable, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself in full.

But Sebastian Sallow had never been particularly known for his rational decisions, especially when emotions came into play. His impulse to act, to throw himself into a moment without worrying about the consequences, was hard-wired. And right now, he felt that impulsive urge flaring, pushing against his better judgment.

"Sebastian," Ominis warned, sensing the shift in his posture, the way his jaw set with stubborn resolve. “Don’t be foolish.

Sebastian forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Relax, Ominis."

Ominis’s hand shot out, grabbing Sebastian’s arm with surprising strength. “Sebastian,” he said quietly, his tone a rare mixture of urgency and exasperation. “You’re going to make things worse. For both of you.”

Sebastian hesitated, just for a moment, feeling the weight of Ominis’s words and the weight of his grip. But then he shrugged him off, giving him a look that was equal parts defiance and frustration. “I appreciate your concern, Ominis. Really. But I know what I’m doing.”

Without another word, he turned and made his way across the Great Hall, ignoring Ominis’s quiet sigh and the slight shake of his head. He could feel the eyes of a few students on him as he crossed the room, the usual curious glances that followed him since term started. And he didn’t miss the way the group of Hufflepuff girls he’d noticed earlier sat up a little straighter as he approached, their whispers stopping as they exchanged excited looks.

He slid into an empty seat next to the nearest girl, offering her an easy smile that he’d perfected over years of half-hearted flirting. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

The girl—he thought her name was Lily—looked momentarily stunned, her cheeks flushing pink as she stammered a quick, “Not at all!” Her friends exchanged glances, their excitement barely contained, and Sebastian felt a fleeting surge of satisfaction. If Evangeline wanted to act like Lysander was the most charming bloke at Hogwarts, then he’d give her something to notice, too.

From across the hall, Evangeline felt her jaw clench as she watched Sebastian settle in among the Hufflepuff girls, his easy smile and charm on full display.

Fine, she thought, glancing away with forced indifference. If Sebastian wanted to throw himself at every girl who batted an eyelash his way, that was his choice. She certainly wasn’t going to sit around worrying over it. Instead, she turned her attention to Lysander, who was midway through a story about a misadventure in Ravenclaw Tower involving an escaped Fwooper.

She laughed, genuinely this time, as Lysander animatedly described the scene, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. The Ravenclaw’s charm was undeniable, his easygoing smile and gentle confidence putting her at ease. As she listened, she found herself relaxing, letting her focus shift from the sting of Sebastian’s behavior to the warmth of the conversation in front of her.

“So,” Lysander said, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it true Gryffindor Beaters have secret drills for extra strength?”

Evangeline smirked, shrugging playfully. “Maybe. You’ll have to earn that kind of classified information, though.”

He grinned, lifting a brow, "Earn it, you say? And what exactly would it take for a humble Ravenclaw Chaser like me to earn such privileged information?”

Evangeline bit back a smile, trying to match his playful tone. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, tapping her chin as though she were deep in thought. Inside, her heart was racing, each word requiring more confidence than she felt.

Unlike Sebastian, who seemed to flirt effortlessly and without a second thought, Evangeline was not naturally flirtatious. She was far deeper into this than she’d planned, each exchanged look and teasing remark drawing her further in. The thrill of it—the unfamiliar territory of genuine, mutual interest—sent a rush through her, both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Perhaps, we could discuss terms over a butterbeer at the Broomsticks?"

She couldn't believe the words had left her mouth. Had she really just suggested that? A flicker of nerves swept through her, and she fought to keep her expression steady, hoping her voice hadn’t sounded as shaky as she felt.

Lysander’s face lit up, his easy smile shifting into something warmer, almost excited. “Now that,” he said, leaning in just a touch closer, “sounds like an excellent idea. Would tomorrow work for you, Evangeline?"

Her heart gave a little flip at the way he said her name, soft and sure, like it was something he’d wanted to say for a while. She held his gaze, feeling her cheeks warm under his steady look, and couldn’t help the small, genuine smile that tugged at her lips. This felt… new, like she’d opened a door to something she hadn’t realized she wanted.

“Alright,” she replied, managing to keep her tone light, “but fair warning: Gryffindor terms are notoriously steep. I hope you’re prepared.”

Lysander chuckled, unfazed. “I’d expect nothing less."

Evangeline lingered with Lysander for another few minutes, their conversation light and easy, a comfortable warmth settling between them as they continued to exchange smiles and laughs.

Eventually, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed Ominis waiting patiently, his gaze turned politely toward the far end of the hall. She realized with a start that she’d been chatting with Lysander much longer than she’d meant to.

“Well,” she said, returning her gaze to Lysander, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Thanks for the company. And, um… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Lysander’s smile widened, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll look forward to it, Evangeline.”

Her cheeks warmed as he said her name, and she gave him a small nod before finally breaking away. She turned and made her way back to Ominis, her heart still racing slightly from the thrill of agreeing to meet Lysander.

When she reached Ominis, he turned toward her with a bemused expression, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You were over there for a while,” he commented, his voice laced with amusement. “I’d nearly forgotten we were here to eat.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I was just being friendly.”

“Friendly, hm?” Ominis arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “It looked a bit more than ‘friendly’ from where I was sitting. I’d go so far as to call it ‘charmed.’”

She tried to shrug off his comment, but the hint of color on her cheeks betrayed her. “Well… maybe there was a little charm involved.”

Ominis chuckled, his smirk widening. “It seems I’ll have to get used to you being the center of attention for once, though I think there’s one person here who won’t be quite as pleased about it.”

Evangeline’s smile faltered as she followed Ominis’s gaze back to where Sebastian sat with the Hufflepuff girls, his easy laugh and confident posture unmistakable. Even from a distance, she could tell he was laying on his charm. The familiar pang of irritation crept back into her chest as she watched him, feeling that strange, unsettling twist that she still didn’t want to name.

“It's not like I care what he thinks,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Ominis gave her a long, skeptical look, one that made her cheeks burn. She shot him a warning glance, daring him to say anything more.

“Alright," He acquiesced, "So what did you and Clearwater talk about? Or should I be asking what you two agreed on, based on that smile?”

Evangeline hesitated, feeling her cheeks warm again under his knowing gaze. “He… may have agreed meet up for a butterbeer tomorrow. Just to, you know, chat about Quidditch and such.”

“Of course,” Ominis replied, his voice dripping with amused disbelief. “Just casual Quidditch talk, is it?”

She huffed, nudging him with her elbow. “Honestly, Ominis, it’s nothing serious. Just… something new. I thought it’d be fun.”

“Good,” Ominis said, his expression softening. “You deserve some fun, Evangeline.”

As they finished up lunch, they chatted about classes, gossip around the school, and their upcoming assignments, Ominis filling the time with his usual dry wit and grounded observations. The comfort of his friendship helped chase away the lingering thoughts of Sebastian and Lysander, allowing her to settle into a sense of ease once again.

Later that evening, Evangeline and Ominis tucked themselves into a quiet corner of the library to study. Stacks of parchment, a handful of old textbooks, and an assortment of quills were spread out between them, illuminated by the flickering glow of a nearby lantern. The library was mostly empty, the muffled silence only broken by the occasional soft footsteps of Scribner as she prowled the aisles, keeping an eagle eye on the few students who lingered.

Evangeline was absorbed in her notes when she sensed movement out of the corner of her eye. Glancing up, she nearly dropped her quill. Sebastian was weaving his way through the shelves, and he looked… well, thoroughly disheveled.

His shirt was partially untucked, his tie hanging loosely and crooked, and his dark curls were charmingly mussed, as though he’d either been in a hurry—or had been busy with something else entirely. His gaze darted around the library as if searching for someone, and when his eyes landed on her, he froze.

Ominis noticed her sudden silence and looked up. “Is something wrong?” he asked, but then he followed her gaze and gave an exasperated sigh. “Ah. I see someone’s had an eventful evening.”

Sebastian made his way over to them, sliding into the seat across from her with a lazy grin, entirely unbothered by his disheveled state. “Evening,” he said, stretching out and folding his hands behind his head, giving off an air of smug satisfaction.

“Had a good night, did we?” Ominis asked, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.

Sebastian shrugged, looking at them with a glint in his eye. “Not bad,” he replied. “I may have run into a few people who needed entertaining.”

Evangeline kept her face carefully blank, refusing to give Sebastian the satisfaction of a reaction, but beneath the surface, she felt like the air had been pulled from her lungs.

Her chest tightened painfully as she imagined what he'd been up to, and with whom. A vague, irrational jealousy flared, stinging her with an intensity she hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t fair, she told herself. She had no right to feel this way, no right to feel possessive over him, but that didn’t stop her mind from replaying the image of him hidden away with some Hufflepuff girl in a broom closet, his face inches from hers, that same lazy grin he now wore aimed at someone else. The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth.

After a tense silence, she managed to last another five minutes, pretending to be engrossed in her studies, but each second felt like a fresh test of her endurance. Finally, unable to stand the smug look on Sebastian’s face or the suffocating jealousy tightening in her chest, she snapped her book shut.

“I think that’s all for me tonight,” she announced, shoving her notes and quill into her bag with hurried movements. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Ominis, perceptive as ever, raised an eyebrow but kept a knowing smile to himself. “Goodnight, Evie,” he replied, and then, as though he’d read her thoughts, added with perfectly timed mischief, “And enjoy your butterbeer with Lysander tomorrow.”

The effect on Sebastian was immediate. His relaxed posture tensed, and his lazy grin faded, his brows drawing together in confusion and irritation. He opened his mouth to say something, but Evangeline was already getting to her feet, determined to escape before he could ask any questions.

“Thanks, Ominis,” she said, shooting him a small, grateful smile, as if he’d somehow offered her a lifeline. “Goodnight, Sebastian,” she added with forced nonchalance, barely looking at him.

“Night, Evie,” he replied, but his voice lacked its usual warmth, and she could feel his eyes boring into her as she made her way toward the library exit.

As Evangeline disappeared around the corner, Sebastian watched the spot where she’d just been, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He seemed to be struggling to process what Ominis had just casually dropped into the conversation. A date with Lysander Clearwater? Since when did she—

“What was that all about?” Sebastian finally asked, his voice tight as he turned to Ominis. His eyes held a mix of frustration and something that bordered on betrayal.

Ominis leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “What?" he replied, feigning innocence as he flipped open his book again, though he wasn’t even glancing at the page.

Sebastian huffed, crossing his arms and sinking back in his chair. “Since when is she… going on dates."

“Oh, since today,” Ominis replied, his tone smooth and maddeningly calm. “She asked him out. They’re meeting at the Three Broomsticks.”

She asked him?! The confirmation made something twist uncomfortably in Sebastian’s chest. He remembered Evie talking to Clearwater earlier, her bright smile and relaxed demeanour, the way she’d laughed with him in a way that looked so… easy. And now, that same ease would be shared over butterbeer, while he’d be left to watch from the sidelines, unwanted and out of place.

“What’s so great about him, anyway?” Sebastian muttered, glaring at a distant spot on the library wall. “He’s… boring. Probably reads strategy books for fun.”

Ominis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sebastian. Lysander’s a perfectly decent person. He’s polite, intelligent, kind—qualities Evangeline seems to appreciate.” He shot Sebastian a sidelong glance, his gaze softening. “It’s not exactly a mystery why she might enjoy his company.”

Sebastian scoffed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “He’s just not… right for her. They’ve barely spoken before this term.”

“And you’d rather have her stay by your side, trailing after you while you flirt with every girl who looks your way?” Ominis raised an eyebrow, his tone cool. “You can’t have it both ways, Sebastian.”

“I’m not—” Sebastian started, his frustration growing as Ominis’s words dug under his skin. “It’s not like that. I just don’t see why she has to be with someone like him.”

Ominis closed his book with a soft thud, fixing Sebastian with a patient yet exasperated look. “Listen, Sebastian. You’re my best friend, but you’re also insufferably thick sometimes. If you're not going to admit how you feel, then you should at least be happy for her.”

Sebastian’s fists clenched at his sides, unwilling to admit that Ominis was right, that this wasn’t just a matter of Clearwater’s supposed faults. No, it was the gnawing feeling in his chest, the realization that he’d taken her presence for granted—believing, foolishly, that she’d always be there, waiting in the background, just for him.

“Do you really think she’s… interested in him?” he asked quietly, almost hoping Ominis would tell him otherwise.

Ominis sighed, softening. “I think she’s looking for someone who appreciates her, and Lysander’s offered her that. And frankly, she deserves it.” Then, after a beat, he added pointedly, “But it doesn’t have to be him, Sebastian. You could stop pretending you’re not interested.”

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately, staring at the table as if it held answers he couldn’t grasp. Obviously, he wasn’t about to admit to Evangeline that he was undeniably, completely, and utterly in love with her—and had been for over a year now. There was a terrifying vulnerability in even considering it, in risking the one constant he’d always counted on.

But the image of her laughing with Lysander, of her being charmed by him and agreeing to meet him tomorrow, tugged at something deep and raw within him. The thought of her choosing someone else, someone who didn’t know her half as well as he did... he couldn't take it.

Without another word to Ominis, Sebastian pushed back his chair and stood, his resolve hardening with each step he took toward the library exit. Behind him, he heard Ominis sigh, but he didn’t have time to worry about what Ominis thought. Right now, he only knew one thing—he couldn’t just sit there while she walked out of his reach.

The corridors were dim and quiet as he hurried after her, his footsteps echoing as he scanned each hallway, hoping he hadn’t lost her. His heart thudded with a mixture of nerves and frustration as he rounded a corner and finally spotted her, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she made her way toward the staircase.

“Evie!” he called, his voice louder than he’d intended in the quiet of the castle.

She stopped, turning to see him striding toward her, and her eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting between surprise and something he couldn’t quite place. “Sebastian?” she said, folding her arms defensively as he closed the distance between them.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Standing in front of her now, the words he’d wanted to say evaporated, replaced by the realization that he had no plan, only a jumble of emotions he hadn’t sorted out. But he couldn’t turn back now, not with her looking at him like that, as if she could see right through his bravado.

“I, um…” He ran a hand through his hair, stalling for a moment. “I just—didn’t get a chance to say goodnight properly.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Goodnight properly?” She huffed, clearly unconvinced.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling the weight of her skepticism. “Yeah, you know… just thought I should… say it,” he stumbled, his usual easy confidence faltering. “I mean, you left pretty quickly.”

Evangeline’s brow arched higher, her arms still crossed as she gave him a level look. “I'm tired,” she replied, her voice calm, but there was a flicker of irritation in her eyes. “Long day. And I need to be up early tomorrow."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and he tried to brush it off, but the words stung, his stomach twisting at the reminder. “Right, for Clearwater,” he said, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

She narrowed her eyes, her irritation flaring. “And?"

Sebastian took a steadying breath, fighting to keep his composure, but his frustration slipped into his tone. “And I just don’t see why you’d waste your time with him, that’s all.”

Evangeline’s eyes flashed, and she uncrossed her arms, taking a step forward. “Waste my time? Since when is having a simple butterbeer wasting my time?”

He clenched his fists, struggling to find the right words. “It’s not that, it’s just… I don’t think he’ll appreciate you. Not really.”

She let out a breath, exasperated. “And you know that how? Did Clearwater suddenly become some kind of villain while I wasn’t looking?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing, Sebastian.” Her voice softened, but there was a sadness there, a deep disappointment that cut through him. “If you can’t be happy for me, then at least don’t make me feel bad for wanting… something new.

Sebastian felt his chest tighten, a desperate urge clawing at him to stop her, to make her see how he felt. But he was paralyzed, the words stuck in his throat. All he could do was watch as she shook her head slightly, her face a mixture of frustration and resignation.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” she said, her voice laced with a forced calm that did little to hide the sting behind her words. “Have fun snogging your flavor of the week in whatever broom closet you end up in.”

The jab landed harder than he expected, and he flinched, momentarily caught off guard by the bitterness in her tone. She didn’t wait for a response, though. Before he could say anything, she’d already turned, her footsteps brisk and purposeful as she disappeared down the hall.

Sebastian stood there, rooted to the spot, a mixture of guilt and frustration twisting in his chest. The hollow emptiness that followed her departure settled into something heavier, something that gnawed at him with each step she took further out of reach.

A part of him wanted to run after her, to catch her arm and tell her that none of it mattered, that the flirting, the charm he used so carelessly—it was all meaningless. He wanted to tell her that it was only her smile, her laugh, her presence that he craved, that his foolish pride had kept him from admitting what he knew deep down: he didn’t want anyone else.

But he’d let her walk away, and it was too late to take that back now.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

[andre-and-cal]

waiter give me caldre headcanons

Sigh I read Walter instead of waiter…

But bone apple teeth and eat up pookstah !! I hope that I did okay with these ones ‘cause I’m not trans but wanted these to feel realistic for my trans pookies,, so I did my best :3

I didn’t get to proofread that much so I’m sawry if there r mistakes…. 😿🙏

Caldre Headcanons

SFW

Transmasc Calvin !! Despite Andre’s curiosity toward him, he still accepts him for who he is, no matter his identity. It took Andre a little to get adjusted to referring to Cal as a male, and he did seem a little judgmental at first with the wording of his questions. Sometimes Andre can come off kinda rude when he doesn’t mean to. However, he wasn’t being judgmental, as he was trying to learn more so that Cal felt comfortable with him. And once Andre got the hang of it, he quickly realized that he doesn’t care about who Cal is— to elaborate, he doesn’t care about how Cal identifies, he cares about his presence. Not anyone else’s presence, just the Calvin Gabriel he met and quickly grew close to in middle school. After all, he feels like Cal is all he has left in the world, so the last thing he really cares about is Cal’s gender or orientation. Though, Cal struggles with dysphoria and a bit of discrimination— especially with it being the years 2000-2001. Kids were still a lot meaner and less accepting of queer people, so he faces issues with some bullying. Many of his peers shun him for being transgender, so as a result, Cal’s already quite low self-esteem plummeted. At times, he doesn’t really feel comfortable in his body. He feels like he just wants to crawl his way out of his skin in order to rid himself of the bothersome ruminating thoughts he deals with. But he tries to ignore the negativity and brush it off until it all bottles up— for which he seeks out that reassurance from Andre, wanting to be sure that the feminine features present on his body are okay. Which, they are, of course, and Andre tries to encourage him of this fact, even if briefly. Now, Cal isn’t as open about his dysphoria with Rachel, but he does talk about it with her sometimes.

Andre seems stern and stoic around other people, but he’s a lot different when it comes to Cal. With the promises they’d made to each other in the past, Andre’s constantly surveying Cal, especially when Brad or other dudes at school are being a dick to them both— but Andre often takes little to no notice of himself at times, frequently exhibiting intense defensiveness toward their bullies when they bother them because he just wants to make sure Cal is okay. His demeanor does impact how other people see him, with many of his peers seeing him as “having a short fuse” or “strange”. Andre knows Cal can very well handle himself. He’s not a baby, after all— he’s practically an adult now, and Andre tries to tell himself that, yet he can’t help but worry about him, even when he doesn’t need to worry. There’s just that little voice in the back of his head that prompts him to get a little bossy around Cal sometimes. Brad Huff calls Andre “Cal’s abusive boyfriend” in an insulting manner when Andre sticks up for him, which embarrasses and enrages him. Everybody thinks him and Cal aren’t dating, even though they are. Cal will kinda stay quiet, maybe mutter something sharp-tongued in response, but he doesn’t want to get Andre’s ass beaten. Andre’s own anxiety for Calvin causes Andre to kind of project onto him with irritability and frustration, even though he doesn’t truly mean it— he just wants to know Calvin is safe, that’s all. But he doesn’t know how to express that care healthily at times because he struggles with communicating his feelings.

Cal helps Andre with his homework sometimes, and Andre does the same. Andre tends to get annoyed when Cal doesn’t understand something after he explained it multiple times, or when he gets distracted and loses focus frequently due to his ADHD. Telling him to “get his head out of his ass”. He also organizes his folders and throws out loose papers for him since Cal is definitely an unorganized guy. But Andre doesn’t realize how much help he is for Cal, ‘cause he tends to do well on his quiz, test, or exam within a few weeks, even though Andre has to organize his shit for him once every few weeks. Now, Calvin’s approach when he helps Andre with his homework is a little different, but just as effective. He explains things for a while ‘cause he kind of gets into the whole “teaching” thing, and Andre tends to get bored, but still somehow taking in some of the information. But this is mainly because Cal helps Andre chunk his notes. Cal initially suggested that Andre be a tutor, but Andre brushed off his suggestion, not wanting to have to work with younger kids or potentially his peers at school. But since Andre already has his job at the pizza parlor, Cal decided to become a tutor instead. He makes some good money with it, but gets a little impatient with his tutees, like how he does with Andre.

Andre lightly baby talks Mel. Cal makes fun of him for it, sarcastically saying it’s not very “soldierly” of him to express his fondness toward his cat, as if he doesn’t do the same to Mel. Cal knows he’s a hypocrite but doesn’t dare admit it, he’ll just silently sink down to the floor beside Mel to play with her and give her attention. Andre has no shame in showing Mel love and attention, because he’s seen Cal get all wrapped up in cat heaven when Mel lays on him and makes biscuits on his lap. Even before Cal and Andre started dating, Andre casually referred to Cal as Mel’s “daddy” sometimes, and then himself as “papa”. Andre’s crush was well-hidden, but not covered up completely. He still does this, but now the confirmation that Cal is Mel’s second “father” remains unspoken yet understood by both boys, so Andre constantly calls him and Cal her “dads”.

In their gym class, some boys intentionally target Andre and Cal— especially if they’re playing an outdoor activity. When playing soccer, they’ll kick soccer balls toward the two of them— Cal has good reflexes, so he can usually can dodge the ball when he sees it coming— but Andre will get hit in the face and fall on his ass. He feels embarrassed and enraged when it happens, and one time he even got a bloody nose— so Cal took him to the clinic and cleaned it up for him, though he effectively hid his internal rage toward the boys for doing that. However, Cal usually gets hit in the chest when they’re playing football or basketball, and it knocks the wind out of his lungs. Andre doesn’t really say anything, knowing that doing so will just get him further taunted or pushed around, so he just shuts his mouth and helps Cal up— even though he’s seething inside.

Andre gets cold at night, while Cal gets hot. Andre gets real whiny when he’s half-asleep and when Cal pulls away from him at night, since Cal is kind of like a little heater for him while he sleeps. But Calvin gets sweaty, and pulling the sheets off is uncomfortable for him, so he tries to untangle himself from Andre— though Andre subconsciously tightens his arms around Cal to pull him a little closer to his chest. In the morning, Cal’s drenched in sweat, with his blond locks sticking to his face, so he has to blow his fan right on himself. He doesn’t really get all that hot during the cold winter months of the year 2000.

Cal likes to cuddle. Andre does, too, but he pretends it doesn’t really bother him that much. Cal likes to lie on Andre’s chest while Andre holds him. Other times, when Andre is spooning him, but they both wake up in the most uncomfortable positions, so they have to rub each other’s necks and backs after LMAO.

Andre always says “C’mere” before he kisses Cal. He also lets out small, content sighs when they’re in bed together or cuddling on the couch. Cal likes hearing Andre’s grunts and noises. It kind of gives him cuteness aggression, so he has to squish his cheeks.

Despite the good moments they do have together, though, they’re both extremely unstable, demented teenage boys. They argue a lot, and their fights get real heated, sometimes leading to physical altercations between them. Neither Andre nor Cal see domestic violence as a bad thing. Andre sees it as a way to get his anger out, and Cal sees it as a way to “teach Andre a lesson”. They bicker and grow hostile toward one another when they’re alone together, and their more worse arguments tend to be about upcoming Zero Day, among various other stupid shit. Andre and Cal get angry easily, and hold equal amounts of rage toward their peers at Iroquois, but it comes out differently for both of them. Yet even though they think they’re alone when they set each other off and become aggressive, Mel— Andre’s cat— is often sitting off to the side, like on Andre’s windowsill, watching the two. She doesn’t really understand what’s going on, with her being a small animal and all, but she does sense negative energy.

Adding on previously, Cal is a gaslighter. Whenever Andre tries to be civil with him and tell him about the things he does that piss him off, Cal doesn’t want to admit when he’s wrong. He asks Andre things like, “When?” Or “I didn’t do that,”. Sometimes it honestly makes Andre question himself, even when he knows he’s right deep down.

NSFW

Handling guns are awfully romantic. Sometimes Calvin and Andre will fuck in Andre’s car, after going out and shooting guns in the woods— excluding Chris, obviously. Chris is the one who has the guns, so Andre uses his dad’s guns when Chris isn’t available for Andre and Calvin to use his guns. When it’s just him and Cal, Andre likes to find a way to show his appreciation for Cal— since he doesn’t really say it that much, besides on Zero Day during their little intimate exchange, of course. But uhHh, sometimes Andre gets a sick sense of arousal when he sees Cal shoot. The way his hands clench around the grip, the way his eyebrows are knitted together in concentration— Cal isn’t normally one to wear tank tops, especially when he’s experiencing symptoms of his dysphoria, but he knows Andre won’t judge him, so he wears tanks when it’s them alone, since it does show off a little bit of his body. He wears these kinds of shirts most notably when they’re out in the woods shooting guns. Andre doesn’t have any shame in subtly checking Cal out, but he gets embarrassed and defensive when he catches him doing so. Moving forward with my point, all of this combined kind of— no, really turns Andre on. Andre doesn’t prefer having sex out in the woods, with the excuse that “the birds are watching them”; he prefers the privacy of his car. Cal really enjoys riding Andre, ‘cause he can feel the head of Andre’s cock grinding up against his folds, and then Andre can feel how wet he is for him.

Andre is a sucker for Cal’s little clit. He calls it a “button” because that was the first thing he thought of when he first saw Cal’s vagina. Cal found it cute, ‘cause he’d never really seen it that way— and it made him feel a little better about himself, therefore Andre continued calling Cal’s clit a “button”. Andre likes to lap at Cal’s pussy and suck on his button— he loves the taste of him, and plus, it essentially serves as a lubricant, which helps Andre when he gets to have his “alone time” with Cal. When Andre first started eating Calvin out, he was a bit sloppy and clumsy with his technique— after all, he’d never dated anyone before, so he was just as inexperienced as Cal was. They both learned along the way, and eventually Andre was able to get Cal to scream his name— after all, one of Cal’s favorite things is the feeling of Andre’s mouth on his pussy.

Cal essentially taught Andre how to eat pussy; Andre essentially taught Cal how to suck dick. Calvin helped Andre find his sweetest spots whenever he went down on him, and once he found those areas by tonguing his cunt alone, Cal cried out in pleasure. Now, with Andre, he helped guide Cal’s mouth down onto his member— the first time Cal blew Andre, of course. The mere sensation alone nearly made Andre spill his seed into Cal’s mouth, and Cal couldn’t even take him that deep down his throat yet. But after more practice— Cal thinks this is embarrassing, and he never wanted to admit it to Andre, but he tried to “reduce” his gag reflex by sticking popsicles and bananas down his throat when he was alone— he was able to take Andre nearly to his tonsils.

Andre likes to squish and knead Cal’s breasts when he isn’t wearing bandages around his chest. Cal frequently wraps bandages around his chest to conceal and flatten his breasts. He never told anyone besides Andre and Rachel, but even with Rachel he was hesitant, anxious about her reaction— yet when she responded in an accepting, caring manner, he felt better. Anyhow, Cal takes them off when he’s alone or when him and Andre are about to get intimate together. When Andre gets to see Cal’s breasts, he’s like a mutt in heat. His hormones affect him a lot, and seeing Cal’s body is kind of like eye candy. He doesn’t really show it much, but he truly admires Calvin’s body, and sometimes when Cal’s changing, he’ll let Andre touch his breasts, even though he was initially repulsed at the idea. Not at Andre, but to his own body. Andre didn’t see his fears as that big of a deal, admittedly he’d never really known why Cal was so self-conscious. But he’d seen Cal’s body in Cal’s own eyes; he doesn’t understand his dysphoria all that well. Nonetheless, Cal is now more open to the idea of Andre touching his chest, because he likes how it makes him feel. He likes how Andre makes him feel, and it honestly makes him wet when he feels his rough thumb pads gently rubbing his nipples, hands squeezing and rubbing his mounds. Andre had heard that breasts were sensitive, so he tried to be as gentle as possible. Cal’s nipples are quite erogenous and stimulating.

When Cal sits on Andre’s lap, it’s kind of a 50/50 chance of Andre getting hard LMAO. The first time this happened— Cal was trying to watch Andre play DOOM on his computer, and so he went and sat down on his lap, but accidentally sat down right on Andre’s dick. Andre tried to ignore the feeling of Cal’s ass against his growing bulge, but eventually Calvin found out. He didn’t know what to do at first, but since Andre wasn’t mentioning his… predicament, Cal decided to test it out by intentionally shifting around on his lap. And Andre’s erection only grew more painful, so he subtly placed his hand on Cal’s inner thigh and squeezed, trying to tell him to stop without actually saying anything. Unfortunately, though, Cal didn’t fucking listen. So Andre had mumbled in his ear, “Fucking stop that, you spiteful bastard,”. That made Cal stop for a moment, but then he’d replied, “Control yourself, then,” but his words held no malice— and he had a shit-eating grin on his face; he knew what he was doing. This really pushed Andre’s buttons, so he hissed out in his ear, “It’s not my fault you sat on it!” Which— essentially is true, but Cal still ended up responding with, “Aim your game, man,”. And then, right after Andre retorted, “I’ll aim it into you,” things got pretty heated between them. Andre wanted to touch Cal so fucking badly. He wanted those pink lips wrapped around his shaft. He wanted to hear Cal whimper. He wanted to hear him cry. He wanted to hear him suffocate. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, at least not this intensely— and his parents had always told him in the past that he’d find the right person for him. Which, he did, back in the sixth grade when he’d met Calvin. Before Andre started liking Cal, he was convinced he’d never find anyone and that he’d fuck everything up even if he tried. But he didn’t. Not this time. Going back to my point, though, Andre had stuck his hand down Cal’s pants, roughly rubbing him through his panties ‘till he got all wet for him— though, Andre wasn’t really all that great with masturbating Cal for him, either. So he was kind of fumbling until he was able to shove his hand inside his panties and start rubbing his slick folds… pinching his little clit between his fingers, too. With his free hand, he let go of his mouse and moved it up, slapping his palm over Cal’s mouth while grinding up into his ass. Their pleasured pants and grunts combined delightfully, and Andre leaned down to whimper against Cal’s ear. With all of that alone, Andre was able to get himself off even by dry humping Cal— and Cal, of course, came all over his fingers.

Andre likes to squeeze Cal’s ass when he’s facing away from him. Not necessarily in a playful way, or even in a suggestive manner, but instead as a silent way to show his appreciation for him. Like mentioned previously, Andre isn’t good with words, and he doesn’t like to be all sappy and shit like a normal guy would be— and Cal knows that. He isn’t really sappy either, but he is a bit more affectionate than Andre generally is. It kind of startles Cal when Andre caresses his ass cheek, but he doesn’t complain. He likes having Andre’s hands all over him.

Cal enjoys getting kissed on the neck. Not due to sexual stimulation, but because of how warm and giddy it makes him feel inside— mainly because Andre isn’t overly affectionate, especially not in public. It makes him feel genuinely happy— which is kind of a rare thing for him— when Andre gives him little neck and jaw kisses, or when he feels Andre snake his arms around him. Cal does like to spoon Andre as well, though, but he doesn’t return the neck kisses because he knows Andre does get quite aroused due to some areas on his neck. When Cal wants to have a rather nice, tender moment with Andre, he doesn’t kiss or suck at his neck. Instead, he nuzzles him. During sex, though, he likes to bite Andre and litter his neck in kisses and hickeys.

Andre never knew how much he liked to see Cal bloody until he walked in on him cutting himself. One night, at Calvin’s house, him and Andre were arguing, so Cal stormed off in what Andre could assume was an act out of pettiness or spite, so Andre just lingered in Cal’s room instead of going after him. He kind of snooped around and messed with his stuff out of curiosity until he heard some faint cries coming from down the hall. Which, Andre followed the noises and saw that the bathroom door was shut, and he saw the light on. Without knocking, he barged into the bathroom and saw that Cal had been cutting himself and reopening small, past scars. Andre wanted to feel horrible— well, believe me, he did, but in a different way. He got hard at the sight of Cal’s bloodied forearms and upper arms, and he felt extremely guilty as a result. He wanted to feel sick, to genuinely comfort him in the best way he could… the only way he knew how to. But he couldn’t, he liked it. But he forced himself to ignore his erection, no matter how distracting it was, and he ended up just helping him patch up his arms, scolding him for his actions.

But eventually, out of the blue, Cal asked if Andre could cut him. Andre didn’t want to, initially, for the shame practically ate him up at the idea. However, eventually, he gave in— and after he’d chopped up the skin on Cal’s arms, he scooped up some of his thin blood on his fingertips and shoved it into Cal’s mouth, forcing him to taste himself. The other hand went to his cock, and he palmed himself as he watched Cal suck on his fingers. Afterward, he’d stuck his hand down into Cal’s jeans, and he penetrated his pussy with his bloodstained fingertips. Then, Cal— with his hands rather bloody, undid Andre’s pants and jerked him off for him, then wrapped his lips around his cock, so that when Andre came, his lips had traces of both his own blood, and also Andre’s cum.

[tangleslime2]

I've noticed a lot of games I like have things to say about immortality so I decided to make a list

Bug Fables: How are you going to get the immortality? How do you plan on handling the consequences of your actions? Is it worth it? Did you think anything through at all?

Hollow Knight: You can't be immortal. Don't try. It just makes more problems.

Everhood: Do you want to be immortal? NO YOU FUCKING DON'T. ENJOY NOTHING FOREVER.

Mad Rat Dead: Why do you want to be immortal? You should really have a reason. Otherwise, it's kinda pointless.

Rain World: People can have different opinions about immortality! Just try not to make too much of a mess, or you and/or everyone else has to deal with that forever.

[toddtakefive]

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

[lith-myathar]

.

[wild-at-mind]

I honestly feel so alone in my communities (trans, queer, whatever else) a lot of the time and I can't articulate why to anyone irl.

[screamingay]

does anyone else think it's bullshit that i keep getting scheduled for 8 hour 11-7 shifts instead of my usual 7 hour 7-2 and i don't even get paid for the full extra hour because the evening shift workers ALWAYS leave like a half hour early?? im never allowed to leave early on 7-2s in fact i usually end up leaving kinda late bc they're always saying we have to finish everything before we leave. but the evening shift never finishes everything before they leave!! every time i come in for a 7-2 i find so much shit unfinished bc the fucking 4 or 5 hour 2/3-7 shift people don't even bother staying until 7 to finish up and apparently management is fine with this?? and whenever i'm there until 7 they pressure everyone to close up by 6:30 so they can go home sooner but i dont fucking care abt that! they automatically take a half hour unpaid lunch out of my timesheet anyway so that plus the leaving early means i don't even get paid much more than i would on my usual shift. and the 11-7 is the worst shift too they keep putting more responsibilities on that one person which somehow also makes it harder for everyone else bc the 11-7 cant help as much. cant fucking wait to hit my one year there so i can finally job hunt again and hopefully find a place that at least gives me time to sit down and eat lunch while im not getting paid. smh

[anaalnathrakhs]

also not to add another slice to the depression sandwich when i'm clearly not the victim in this situation, but i can't help but replaying the little hurtful moments lately. stuff like paying attention and comissionning an artist to give my mom a birthday gift she'll love, and in return she gives her disordered kid who hates gifts (both facts she knows) chocolate for easter. my teacher who said some months ago when she was trying to subtly hint that she definitely knew about the restriction, something like "where has my little [irl name] who tried the common room snacks with me gone?", when at the time i tried the common room snacks i was also puking in the school bathroom like every other day. because none of these problems are new. yay.

[girlwithrituals]

101 ways to improve self esteem

1) Master a new skill.

2) List your accomplishments.

3) Do something creative.

4) Challenge your limiting beliefs.

5) Talk to a counselor.

6) Don't worry about what others think.

7) Read or watch something inspirational.

8) Stay true to your character.

9) Let go of negative people.

10) Set healthy boundaries with others.

11) Care about your appearance.

12) Welcome failure as part of growth.

13) Be a lifelong learner.

14) Face your fears.

15) Become a mentor.

16) Accept compliments.

17) Eliminate self-criticism.

18) Practice coping skills to manage stress and big emotions.

19) Notice negative thoughts and beliefs.

20) Challenge negative thinking.

21) Think about what you learned from negative experiences.

22) Practice gratitude.

23) Exercise.

24) Eat healthy and limit junk food.

25) Get good sleep.

26) Spend time with positive and supportive people.

27) Encourage yourself.

28) Write a list of your strengths.

29) Don't compare yourself to others.

30) Avoid perfectionism.

31) Do at least one positive, enjoyable activity every day.

32) Celebrate small victories.

33) Be helpful and considerate to others.

34) Be honest with yourself and others.

35) Accept your flaws.

36) Don't give up.

37) Practice self-care.

38) Go easy on yourself.

39) Practice being assertive.

40) Practice saying "No".

41) Practice relaxation techniques.

42) Take on challenges.

43) Volunteer to help others.

44) Forgive others and yourself.

45) Set goals and work toward them step by step.

46) Seek balance in all areas of your life.

47) Discover your passions and purpose

48) Groom yourself.

49) Dress nicely.

50) Be kind and generous to others.

51) Practice good posture.

52) Change a small habit.

53) Smile.

54) Don't procrastinate.

55) Don't take things personal.

56) Organize your personal space.

57) Challenge unkind thoughts about yourself.

58) Spend time outside.

59) Notice the good things.

60) Celebrate your successes

61) Write a list of things you like about yourself.

62) Don't take too much on.

63) Do something for yourself every day.

64) Develop daily habits.

65) Remind yourself it's okay if not everyone likes you.

66) Practice mindfulness.

67) Learn to tolerate discomfort.

68) Use problem-solving skills.

69) Take responsibility instead of blaming.

Tell Yourself Positive Affirmations Such As:

70) I am grateful for every day.

71) I am worthy of happiness and love.

72) I am in charge of my own happiness.

73) I love, respect, and believe in myself.

74) I deserve to be happy and successful.

75) I approve of myself, right here and now.

76) I am learning and changing for the better.

77) I accept 100% responsibility for my own life.

78) Every day in every way, I am getting better and better.

79) I can learn to accept the parts of myself that I don't like.

80) I am thankful for my challenges as they make me a stronger person.

81) Write down three positives about each day.

82) Make a collage with your talents, goals, and dreams.

83) Practice laughing.

84) Be proud of yourself.

85) Say mistakes are an opportunity to learn.

86) Show respect to yourself and others.

87) Resolve conflict peacefully.

88) Ask for help or support.

89) Complete a daily task list.

90) Have a growth mindset.

91) Be optimistic.

92) Treat yourself with kindness and compassion.

93) Focus on the things you have control over and can change.

94) Get started on tasks you have been putting off.

95) Practice good daily hygiene.

96) Focus on solutions not problems.

97) Talk about your feelings with someone you trust.

98) Drink plenty of water.

99) Start a new hobby or join a club/sport.

100) Do random acts of kindness.

101) Create a dreams list.

[fading-event-608]

Recently the syndicate of chemists in Lebanon has issued a statement warning people to not go near the blast sites due to alleged use of depleted uranium by Israel. (link - you need to scroll till the statement in Arabic). The screenshot of their statement on twitter was shared here on Tumblr and I’ve seen multiple people expressing scepticism regarding the source. Some people linked an article (link) from anti-Hezbollah 'democratic' newspaper 'L’Orient Today' to ‘fact-check’ - because of course they can’t read Arabic and are discontent with a twitter link.

This is my short summary of the article: they confirm that Israel has used Depleted Uranium (DU) weapons, not only in Lebanon but also in Gaza in June of this year and between October and December of last year. They establish a history of the use of Depleted Uranium, and include examples of its use in Iran in 2003. Israel doesn't directly talk about their use of DU, but neither are they hiding it - because there is no law that forbids the use of these bombs by Israel, there is no treaty regulating the use of DU weapons. There were several resolutions calling for a moratorium on the use of DU weapons in the UN and EU Parliament, the latest of which was in 2022, but these have failed to stop their use (those who have used them also includes both Russia and Ukraine). The article ends with an ominous addition that the Israeli army has been found guilty multiple times of using white phosphorus, which IS prohibited against civilians or civilian property under international law. (You probably can already tell that their defense is that they do not use it against civilians)

There is another article that was published in early September this year - LINK - I highly encourage you to read this one yourself, as it is quite short, especially when considering the amount of information it contains. As this one is more easily accessible, I won’t summarize it - please take it in yourself. I will say, however, that this article’s author, one Dr. Busby, worked with colleagues to conduct several investigations into the use of uranium-based weapons in both Lebanon and Gaza. In 2006, Dr. Busby asked his colleague to collect multiple samples from a crater left by what was suspected to be Depleted Uranium weapons. Samples from an ambulance air filter were also taken. Dr. Busby and company found not only the  presence of depleted uranium but also of Enriched Uranium. Here’s the paper: link.

Enriched Uranium. In 2006.

By 2024, all of the laboratories that Dr. Busby had used to Conduct the investigation have closed their doors either to him or in general. Busby’s letters to the UN, as well as papers detailing evidence of the use of enriched and depleted uranium are either dismissed or ignored, rendering it unlikely that there will ever be the “official” source for these claims that certain people now see fit to demand. And even if the UN did accept those letters and did push for ban of those weapons - would Israel comply? Genocide is ‘illegal’ under international law, and Israel still faces the case in ICJ, but what will that ICJ do if they rule that Israel is guilty? What would UN do if they accept evidence of Israel using uranium-based weapons? Scold them and write a fine?

The aspect of the deployment of nuclear weapons considered the most horrific is - and has always been - the fallout. The idea that all nuclear weapons would leave evidence - again, fallout - behind was born into the cultural consciousness through various cold war era PSAs, as well as other media inspired by these horrors, potential and otherwise. The weapons Israel is using here do not create fallout, however. But do not mistake them as harmless - they are still highly carcinogenic. They cause birth defects, as well as various other illnesses - mysterious illnesses, or at least mysterious until doctors attempting to treat them register that their patients have been exposed to enriched uranium, after which point the mystery goes away. 

In a sense, the horrors advertised by cold war PSAs and films like Doctor Strangelove, the promise of some explosive end brought about by some fool in the US pushing the wrong button - these serve to draw a veil over the continued use of nuclear weapons that have been ongoing since this technology was first harnessed for violence. This is a severe danger to the people of Gaza, and we can’t ignore it simply because we have developed in our minds too much faith in the loosest understandings of nuclear warfare.

I think many of you are familiar with a boiling frog story. The story goes that if you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will try to climb out. But if you put it in warm water and very slowly heat it, it will be so accustomed to the temperature it will eventually be boiled alive. It’s not very authentic, of course - in reality the frog will try to jump out as soon as it deems the water temperature uncomfortable. Just like you would try to get out of the bathtub as soon as it gets too hot for you or try to warm yourself up when you spend too much time outside in winter. 

But some of it still rings true. At what point will the UN, or ICJ, or some other white savior wannabe decide that Israel has done too much? What is that ‘too-much’ point that makes them try to protest, and what would that protest be?

As in case with Tumblr, it seems that the boiling point, in fact, has already passed and people grew accustomed to deaths of Palestinians. There are thousands of posts about the situation in Gaza, and the whole Palestine, Lebanon, Yemen, Syria… They get a lot of attention by both zionists and Palestine supporters. There are also hundreds of Gazans that came to Tumblr in hopes to escape the genocide by asking people to cover evacuation and survival costs. Do they get the same attention? Barely. Arguably zionists are more invested in interacting with those posts - they mass report them and harass Palestinians. And even if the fundraiser post gets a lot of attention, it does not necessarily translate into a lot of donations - people just assume that someone else will donate instead of them.

You can’t stop Israel all by yourself. You can’t convince the UN or try to progress the ICJ case by yourself. You can, however, do small acts that will contribute to Palestinian resistance. Go protest, go boycott, and please, please, please, go donate to Palestinian fundraisers.

Falastin’s family are under constant threat in Gaza. She’s been fundraising to save them since late June, and yet they’ve only recently gotten to just over 5% of their total goal - a little short of $10,000 USD. They’re still in Gaza, and still in need of funds for survival. The longer they are trapped there, the more they need - not just for food and water, but also for medicine, shelter, and clothes. Each time they’re displaced, due to inadequate time to pack, they lose more supplies, and their needs increase. Give what you can so that they can survive this, and please share their fundraiser as much as you’re able regardless of whether you can donate, just in case someone you know might be able to help. Not just here on Tumblr, on other social media, talk to your friends, coworkers, family, in group chats and in discord servers.

Please keep in mind conversion rates before donating:

10$ = 103 SEK

25$ = 260 SEK

50$ = 519 SEK

100$ = 1,038 SEK

[sanarsi]

Man’s Love

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is your neighbor who doesn't hide his feelings for you and won't give up on winning your heart despite your rejections. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 40), smutttt with soft!dom!Joel (exactly how you like him), friends(?) to lovers trope, fingering, unprotected PIV Wordcount: 3,5k An: So again… I’m just a slut, you’re just a slut, we’re happy about it, enjoy bestie xx Music I worked with: OMG What’s Happening - Ava Max

Masterlist

You were happy.

You were fulfilled.

You lacked nothing.

A small house by the ocean, a stable job, friends.

But your neighbor thought differently.

Joel Miller would randomly run into you on his way home from the store at least once a week. Too bad the store was in a completely different direction. And at least once a week he invited you out for dinner, a glass of wine, a walk, and a million other things.

His intentions were clear. He never hid how much he liked you when he moved here. Oh man, he was crazy about you.

On the first day he came with a bottle of the best wine to get to know you. He was handsome, charming, funny and talkative. He definitely didn't miss anything. He even managed to steal one kiss from you. But he wanted something more. He wanted something permanent.

And you? You didn't need problems.

You thought you were too old for puppy love. Your previous relationships always gave you headaches. So why should it be any different with him?

That's why you refused him every time. Every time you told him that nothing would come of it. That you weren't what he was looking for.

But it didn't discourage him even for a moment.

Every few days you would find fresh flowers under your window, a basket of fruit that grew in his garden or colorful seashells. Every time you accepted his gifts with amusement.

Oh, he fucking fell for you. He was in love like a teenager. Even when you pushed him away he couldn't stop smiling. You looked beautiful when you tried to be mad at him because he came to you like a loyal dog again. But you couldn't and always ended up laughing, amused by his stubbornness.

He loved coming to your house and sitting on the wall watching you do ordinary things. How you hang laundry, how you care for your flowers, even how you read a stupid newspaper while ignoring him.

Despite his advances, your relationship was friendly. You sometimes went shopping together in the city. Joel sometimes fixed something in your house. You sometimes brought him sweet baked goods. You met at parties you organized for friends.

Yeah… Joel was a friend.

Even when he visited you just to convince you to like him more than just a friend. Like today. On Valentine's Day.

He stood before you with a bouquet of red lilies, a bottle of wine, and a small gift bag. He smiled broadly when he saw your surprise when you opened the door. Frowning, you looked at him carefully, scanning every inch of his body.

"Joel..." you started, sighing from exhaustion.

"Before you start saying you don't need a relationship," he interrupted you, holding up a dark bottle. "I brought your favorite wine," he said, smiling like an idiot. You blinked a few times, looking from him to the bottle of wine. He was so proud of himself that you couldn't help but roll your eyes and smile a little. "Come on, sweet girl. You can't say no to me," he encouraged you, and you just burst out laughing, shaking your head in amusement.

"Fine," you nodded and stepped aside. His smile only widened as he approached, pressing a bouquet of fragrant flowers into your hands and pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. With a quiet laugh, you closed the door behind him and followed him deeper into the house.

Joel felt at home here. He immediately started bustling around the kitchen, preparing everything he thought was necessary. Humming to himself the song that was playing quietly on the radio, he pulled out two glasses and began preparing snacks from what he found in the fridge. You put the bouquet in a vase and silently admired their intensely sweet scent. Joel always knew which flowers to choose to bring a smile to your face.

Or simply anything he did would bring a smile to your face.

Just like that.

You managed to put the vase on the table in the living room when he had already prepared everything on the terrace. You watched with amusement as he walked back and forth almost in a dance step.

He needed so little to be happy.

The sight of you was enough.

You went out onto the terrace and after a moment the music on the radio got louder. You shook your head and sat down at a small table. You grabbed one olive and popped it into your mouth the moment Joel left the house holding two glasses and an open bottle of wine.

"That thing you call a corkscrew should have ended up in the trash a long time ago" he said lightly and put everything on the table. You leaned back comfortably in the chair raising your eyebrows with a smile.

"Just because you don't know how to use it doesn't mean it's broken" you replied watching as he poured the golden alcohol into half of each glass.

"If you can use it then you're a witch" he said glancing at you before he put the bottle down and handed you one glass.

"You only noticed now?" you laughed under your breath. Joel plopped down in the chair across the table with a sigh. You took a sip of wine, looking out at the waves crashing against the stones.

“Yeah, that would explain why I am crazy about you,” he said, sipping his wine slowly. You raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. “You know, all those love spells and stuff,” he shrugged. You reached across the table and smacked his arm. Joel laughed under his breath, moving out of your reach.

“Idiot,” you muttered under your breath. You took a sip of wine and he bent down, reaching under the chair. You looked at him as he held out a small gift bag to you. You set your glass on the table and glanced suspiciously at the gift and back at him.

“Joel-“

“Yeah, I know. Just open it,” he interrupted you and nodded encouragingly at the bag.

You took the gift, still not convinced by the whole idea. You took out a small decorative box and your gaze immediately fell on Joel. He nodded again encouragingly and took a sip of wine, watching with a small smile. You rolled your eyes and continued until the glint of a thin bracelet made you stop. You stared at the thin chain with a pendant in the shape of your favorite flower. You felt a lump in your stomach as you tried to swallow. It was beautiful. Perfect for you.

You glanced at Joel who was watching you carefully as you took the bracelet out of the box. You looked at it closely, wondering how much money he had to spend on it. Fuckin’ idiot.

"Joel, I can't-"

"Yeah, I know. Let me put it on you," he interrupted you, already kneeling next to you. He took the jewelry from you and gently fastened it on your wrist. His warm touch sent a wave of shivers through your body. He grabbed your hand and looked at how the ornament looked on you before leaning down, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “It’s bad luck to return gifts,” he said with a wink before returning to his seat. You looked at him, unable to say anything.

You looked at your wrist again with the new trinket and wanted to start cursing him for it. Why did he give you such gifts if you kept rejecting him? He didn't gain anything from it.

But you had to admit that you felt warmth in your heart.

A warmth you didn't want to feel.

You defended yourself from him as much as you could and yet somehow he broke through the walls around you. He made you feel like you were the center of his universe. You felt desired by someone. And you were just a human being with human needs and desires.

Fuckin’ Joel Miller.

"Do you like it?" he asked, breaking the silence that had been prolonged by your thoughts.

You smiled fondly and nodded. You finally looked at him. "Yes. Very much" you said which made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

He felt like a stupid teenager around you. And he wasn't going to let that feeling get lost because of your stubbornness.

Because Joel had already learned everything about you. And he knew that the only reason you refused him was fear. Fear that you would give him your time and end up with nothing.

The best way to avoid a broken heart?

Don't let anyone in.

But unfortunately you came across the most stubborn man in the world.

And it was with this stubborn man that you spent half the night, laughing, drinking another bottle of wine and talking about stupid things. It was with this stubborn man that you danced at sunset to radio songs. It was with this stubborn man that you felt like you were seventeen again.

Standing in his arms you let him lead the slow dance. His wide smile making you smile as he told you yet another stupid story.

"Yeah and then she looked at me like I was an idiot" he said and you threw your head back and started laughing. He loved watching you laugh. You looked so radiant then. His arm tightened around your waist.

"I'm not surprised" you said looking at him again. His gaze was so damn warm when he looked at you.

With love.

With love which you forbade him.

He stared at you like you were a work of art.

And only after a while you notice that you were just standing in the middle of the terrace. His arms wrapped around you and the calm music in the background. You gently tightened your fingers on his arm, feeling that he was walking on thin ice.

“Joel-“

"Have I told you how beautiful you look when you're happy?" he interrupted you. You blinked with your lips parted. But the damn wine made you snort under your breath.

"Yeah, three times this week," you said, amused.

"I like it when you're happy with me," he admitted, looking at you with a tender smile.

"You keep making me happy, so there's no other option," you laughed sweetly, and only when you noticed his gaze did you understand what came out of your mouth. You froze with your lips parted.

"I make you happy?" he raised an eyebrow, teasing you. He loved catching you by your words. In moments like these, he often got things he wanted out of you.

"Did you get me drunk on purpose?" you asked, frowning.

"Are you?" he asked with a smirk. You rolled your eyes with a wide smile.

"No, but that's not-"

"And you're still happy?" he interrupted you. You looked at him and your smile dimmed a bit. He was serious. And he was looking at you seriously. He waited for your answer. He waited for you to understand.

“Joel, we’ve talked about this so many times. Please.”

“Please for what? To stop making you happy?”

He hit the nail on the head.

You fell silent, realizing how hopeless this all seemed.

That you were the problem.

Not him. Not that he was pushing. Not that he was a pain in the ass.

You.

His hand found its way to your cheek, gently stroking your skin. You looked at him with those big, shiny eyes like a startled deer, and he couldn't help but want to finally cross the line.

"Baby, please," he said softly, sliding his fingers down your jaw to your chin. "I just need one chance." He stroked your chin with his thumb, leaning in a little closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest. "I won't ask for more." He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. Your hot breath bounced off his skin. "One chance," he whispered, nuzzling your nose. You could barely breathe as you watched him intently from so close. "I promise." His lips brushed against yours with every word and then you were gone.

Your eyelids fell and your body stopped resisting his closeness. And he felt it immediately. His lips were on yours in less than a second. He started slowly and gently not wanting to scare you away. His arms held tightly to him not allowing any space between you. But when your hands wrapped around his neck, he allowed his tongue to sneak into your mouth.

You didn't push him away.

So he started kissing you harder.

You gasped into his mouth as his tongue began to dominate yours. He kissed like he was hungry.

And he was.

He was hungry for you like a mad man.

You didn't even notice when he pressed you against the wall, his hands gripping your hips. You moaned into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair. You clenched your fingers around them, trying to return his intense kisses. But you failed.

So his lips moved to your neck. You threw your head back, panting heavily as his tongue left wet marks on your skin and his teeth, bites. His whole body pressed you against the cold wall as his hands began to slide down your thighs, squeezing every inch of your soft skin. He groaned thirstily into your neck as his hands began to roll up your dress so he could get to your underwear. You did nothing to stop it.

His lips collided with yours again, making you moan. His tongue immediately found yours, just like his fingers the elastic of your panties. And he couldn't wait when he finally had you so close.

His hand dove into your panties and his fingers immediately found your wet slit. You both moaned at the same time before his mouth attacked yours again. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as his fingers began to spread the wetness along the length of your pussy. Your knees trembled beneath you as he teased your clit with every movement.

You panted, trying to kiss him back, and you clung to him tighter as his fingers entered you. He rested his forehead against yours, letting you breathe. He watched you as you both panted against each other's mouths as he fucked you with his fingers.

"You're fucking beautiful," he breathed heavily. You looked up from his lips to his eyes, moaning louder as he curled his fingers inside you.

It had been so long since anyone had touched you that it didn't take much to feel your orgasm approaching. You tightened around his fingers and gripped his neck tighter. His lips began to place slow, wet kisses on yours. His cock was already painfully hard when he had you in front of him like this. Your moans sounded even better than in his dreams.

“Joel…”

Oh and his name on your lips made him shiver in his pants. Your fucking voice alone brought him pleasure. He was like a horny teenager who finally got into someone’s panties. But the difference was that now he knew how to take care of a woman.

That's why when you came on his fingers he felt so damn proud. He kissed every moan that escaped your lips before he pulled his fingers out of you, letting your orgasm begin to soak through your panties.

You were already drunk from his touch when he attacked your lips, starting to drag you into the house. You submitted to everything he did, moaning every time you hit each wall, too absorbed in each other. Joel managed to get rid of his shirt before he started unbuttoning your dress. You hungrily responded to his every kiss as your fingers worked to fasten his pants. Finally your dress fell to the floor.

Joel pressed you against the wall and his hands immediately began to explore your bare skin. He embraced your waist with one hand and his other hand found its way to your breast. You moaned into his mouth when he gently squeezed his fingers and his thumb ran over your nipple which immediately hardened under his touch.

You finally managed to unbutton his pants and you were about to plunge your hand into them but then Joel pushed you back and you landed on the soft mattress. You supported yourself on your elbows, panting heavily as he took off his pants and boxers in one move. You slid down his body thirstily.

You fell back onto the bed with a smile and slid your panties off and threw them at him. Joel laughed under his breath as they bounced off his chest and fell to the ground. You bit your lip in excitement as his body finally walled up above yours.

He hummed in satisfaction at the smile you were trying to hold back. He leaned down connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You placed your hands on his cheeks holding him close to you. And you had to admit that it felt so damn good.

You felt his tip slide through your wet slit, making you gasp. And when he slowly entered you, you both broke the kiss, moaning into each other's mouths. Joel rested his forehead against yours, panting heavily as he buried his entire cock inside you. It took him a few seconds to wrap his head around the fact that he was finally inside you before he started moving his hips.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he began to kiss your neck. His cock slowly rubbed against your sweet spot. He groaned as he thrust into you all the way over and over again. His hands slid down to your waist and hips and he gripped them tightly to hold you in place as he began to thrust into you with more energy.

Harder.

Deeper.

Until your legs began to tremble.

You closed your eyes, arching your back as his cock brought you closer to the edge with each thrust. He straightened up, panting heavily, and looked down at you as you arched in pleasure. He ran his eyes down your naked body, feeling like he'd won the fucking lottery. You looked like all of his fantasies came true.

Probably because you were his only fantasy.

His gaze fell on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you.

Oh fuck.

His hips slowed as he began to enjoy the sight of your wet pussy surrounding him perfectly. He growled throatily, stroking his hand over your thighs.

"You look amazing taking my cock like this," he said, making you moan. Not only was he a good fucker, but he also used dirty words. And who was perfect for who here?

His hands gripped your hips again as he sped up his thrusts into you. The air left your lungs and your ragged moans mixed with his soft growls. You clenched around him, feeling the pleasure too intense. And Joel continued to thrust into you like an animal.

“Oh baby I hope you’re close because I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back,” he breathed, watching your face bathed in pleasure.

"Yes, yes" you almost squealed feeling like you were fighting for an orgasm with every movement he made. Joel smiled with satisfaction and leaned down to connect your lips. But the kiss quickly turned into an exchange of moans.

You dug your nails into his skin not knowing what to do with your hands as his cock hit the sensitive spot in your pussy every time. Until finally you felt a wave of orgasm take over your body. You moaned loudly clenching on him hard barely allowing him to move inside you.

"Oh fuck baby," he groaned feeling your orgasm perfectly along the entire length of his cock. And he didn't stop thrusting hard into you, prolonging your pleasure and chasing his own.

Your cunt creamed his cock so hard that the wet sounds could be heard in the room every time he entered you. Until he began thrusting slowly but so hard that the bed hit the wall as he came, moaning loudly. He thrust into you a few more times, coming deep inside you.

Your wet foreheads rested against each other as you both panted heavily. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt your body relax from the weight of your orgasm. Joel leaned down connecting your lips in a soft and slow kiss and you wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his wet hair.

“One chance,” he whispered against your lips, glancing into your eyes. You fell silent, watching him and pursed your lips as a soft smile spread across yours.

“Okay,” you nodded quietly before his lips crushed yours again.

[kimkaelyn]

Ditto [s. todoroki]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈

→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

→ word count: 13.1k

→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!

→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻

The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.

It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.

The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.

The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.

“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.

You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.

As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.

“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.

Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.

“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.

You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.

“Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.

“Thank you.”

Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”

You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.

Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.

The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.

The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.

“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”

Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”

You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.

However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.

“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I’ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.

Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.

Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.

Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.

Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.

You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.

“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.

With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.

It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.

You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.

“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.

“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.

The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”

“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.

“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”

The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”

Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”

You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.

As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.

You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.

By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.

Todoroki may think otherwise.

As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.

He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.

It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.

“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.

You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.

You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.

You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.

“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.

I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.

To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.

The he in question?

Shouto Todoroki.

It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.

You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.

Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.

Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.

“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.

“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.

The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.

“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.

“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.

“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”

“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”

“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.

“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.

“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.

“These look delicious!”

“Woah, man, they look amazing!”

“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”

You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.

“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.

“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.

You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”

There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.

“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.

“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.

“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”

You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”

You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.

“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.

Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.

“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”

You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.

“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”

“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.

Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.

As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.

What the hell? you thought.

“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.

“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”

You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.

“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”

“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”

“What—?”

“Mina, why—?”

Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.

“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.

“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.

You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.

After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.

“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.

“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.

Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”

You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.

“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.

It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.

I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.

“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.

Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.

One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”

Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.

“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.

“Awe, come on, man. Don’t—”

“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.

Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”

Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.

“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.

The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.

“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.

“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”

“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.

Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.

Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”

Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”

“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.

“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.

“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.

The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.

As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.

Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.

“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.

“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.

“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.

“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.

“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.

The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.

“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.

“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”

“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”

“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.

“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”

Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”

You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.

“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. ��Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.

“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”

“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.

Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.

“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.

You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”

You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.

The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.

Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.

You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.

Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.

The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.

“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”

You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.

“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”

You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.

“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”

Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”

“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”

Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.

“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”

You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”

“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”

You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”

“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”

You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”

“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”

You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”

The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.

His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.

“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”

You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.

“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”

“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”

The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”

You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.

The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”

He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.

Your breath caught at what you saw.

His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”

His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.

“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”

You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”

Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.

The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.

It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.

For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.

You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.

“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”

Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”

You had no retort for that.

As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.

You weren’t any better, though.

If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.

Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

3 months later . . .

“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.

“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.

“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.

“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.

You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”

The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”

Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.

You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.

“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.

You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.

“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.

Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”

“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”

“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”

“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.

Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”

You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”

You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”

“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.

“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”

The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.

“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”

“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.

“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.

Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”

“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.

“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.

“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”

You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”

“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”

“The early morning runs,” Asui added.

“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”

Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”

You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.

The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”

You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.

“Definitely.”

“For sure.”

“We could see it from a mile away.”

You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”

“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”

“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”

You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.

“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”

“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”

“What?!”

“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”

You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”

“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”

“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.

You understood immediately. “Oh.”

“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”

“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”

You nodded. “You have a point.”

“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.

“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.

“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”

The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.

You were screwed.

“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”

The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”

“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”

“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”

As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.

Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.

Until one day . . .

You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.

“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”

“Are you seriously sayin—?”

A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”

You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”

All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.

As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.

“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.

“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.

“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.

“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?

“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.

“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.

“I like him a little.”

“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”

“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

Oooohhhhh.

Fuck.

Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—

“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.

FUCK!

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”

Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”

Oh God, how much did he overhear?

“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”

You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.

“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.

Oh great, he’s annoyed!

“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”

“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”

“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”

“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.

“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”

You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”

Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.

There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.

He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.

Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.

“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.

“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”

What.

“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.

Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”

You blinked some more. “What?”

“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.

What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.

The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.

“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”

WHAT!?

“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—

No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”

Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.

“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”

He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”

You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.

You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.

The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.

“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.

“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.

“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”

The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.

“I’LL END YOU!”

Fin.

→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag

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[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.