#that’s no big deal here’s the homework!

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

The S2/S3 Sibuna vs the adults was always the embodiment of this image

the fact that half of the time sibuna and team evil are completely aware the other party knows what they're up to and do absolutely NOTHING about it is so funny to me

[prettyboysmlm]

counting the fucking days

[pomefioredove]

a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[loveriotss]

DINNER WITH THE TODOROKIS ⸻ shoto todoroki

SYNOPSIS — shoto todoroki invites reader over to a family dinner just to get on endeavor's nerves. REQUEST — "Hi...Could I request a Shoto x reader, where Shoto brings over the reader to family dinner just to piss off Endeavor? <3" INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, 1.2k words WARNINGS — minor spoiler (change in hero rankings), like one swear word

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

“would you like to have dinner with me and my family next saturday?”

you look up from your homework, your eyes meeting his two-colored ones as you freeze for a second at his sudden request. you and shoto were curled up in your dorm. textbooks, notes and stationary sprawled all over the small round table in the middle of your room while you two were completing an assignment given by mr. aizawa.

“dinner? are you sure i won’t be intruding?” you asked him, your fingers fiddling with your pen.

“my sister invited me to a family dinner again. she has been trying her best to make our family..work. my old man will be there too." your eyes widen for a split second before you relax again. oh yeah having dinner at the same table as the number one hero wasn’t a big deal at all! you can handle that..right? you've watched countless journalists having interviews with the fiery man and have read even more comments about him and his cold personality. you didn't know what scared you more — the fact that he was the top hero of Japan or that he was the father of shoto.

“oh..are you sure he won't get mad or anything?" you ask nervously. "if he even tries to be rude to you, we can leave. i don't want you to feel uncomfortable. i'm sorry if this seems like a selfish request of mine..i just wish to see his reaction towards you. i understand if you're busy or don't wish to accompany me-" “NO” you interrupted hurriedly, face turning red as shoto looked at you, slightly startled by the sudden interruption. you cleared your throat before speaking again, “i mean, i’m not busy. i'd love to join you all for dinner.”

shoto’s eyes immediately return to his paper at your words, a hint of red on his cheeks. “okay, I’ll let fuyumi know,” he says with a soft smile on his face.

you stood nervously in front of the gate to the todoroki abode. the exterior of the residence looked like any other traditional japanese house with a stone path leading to the front door. the greenery around the house was neat and well maintained. the house seemed to be emitting a soft glow. you fidgeted with your fingers, wishing you’d had a little more time to practice your “not-freaking-out” face.

you didn't realize how tense your body was until shoto slithered his fingers between yours, interlocking them and giving them a soft squeeze. you relaxed into his touch and gave him a smile before ringing the doorbell.

a pretty young lady with white hair that had hints of red mixed with them emerged from the house and excitedly greeted the two of you, she must be shoto's sister.

"shoto! i'm so glad you're here!" she said before turning towards you and grabbing both your hands, a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke, "and you must be y/n! shoto has told me so much about you! it's so nice to meet you!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"hello! nice to meet you too! thank you so much for having me today!" you say, returning her energy.

"thank you for clearing your busy schedules to drop by! and please, call me fuyumi!" she states as she gestures for you two to come in.

you turn your head towards shoto for a moment, mouthing a "she's nice," before following behind fuyumi.

the house wasn't very modern, with tatami mats and sliding doors everywhere. the air was slightly cold but still comfortable enough. there was a delicious aroma in the air; it seemed fuyumi had gone all out. there was the slightest scent of incense sticks wafting down from a hallway but you brushed it off.

fuyumi led you two to a room that consisted of a table surrounded by traditional japanese seats. the dining table was elegantly set, with a feast of rich dishes spread out across the table. however, the air in this room seemed much more tense than it did outside. at the head of the table sat a tall sturdy man who you immediately recognized as endeavor. two seats down to his left sat a young man with white hair.

"hello!" you start, trying to sound as confident as possible, "my name is y/n l/n. thank you for having me!".

"call me natsuo, I am shoto's older brother. it's nice to meet you." says the white-haired man. "it's nice to meet you too natsuo!" you exclaimed happily before turning to endeavor.

"it's nice to meet you, mr. todoroki." you say firmly. endeavor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he managed a curt nod. “likewise. let’s get on with dinner.”

as you took your seat, you noticed endeavor’s gaze occasionally flicking towards shoto, a mixture of curiosity and irritation in his eyes. meanwhile, shoto ignored his father's eyes and carried on eating his cold soba. you could tell that his relaxed demeanor was deliberately designed to get under endeavor’s skin.

as the dinner flowed, you made small conversations with fuyumi and natsuo while shoto piped in once in a while. the room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of utensils, and occasional requests to pass dishes.

“so, l/n,” endeavor started gruffly, causing your attention to immediately snap to him, “how did you and shoto meet?” you took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “we are in the same class. shoto and i were paired for a project and we gradually became closer because of that.”

endeavor’s eyes sharpened. “and what do you think of my son’s… career aspirations?” you hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I think shoto is very dedicated to his work. he’s passionate about what he does.”

a flicker of surprise crossed endeavor’s face, but he quickly masked it with a gruff nod. the conversation continued with a noticeable tension, but you were able to keep the mood from becoming too uncomfortable.

as the meal came to a close and dessert was served, endeavor’s demeanor was a mix of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

“well, y/n,” endeavor said as he stood up, “it’s been… interesting having you here. i hope you enjoyed the meal.” “thank you for having me,” you replied sincerely, giving him a warm smile, “i did enjoy it.”

you bid farewell to natsuo and fuyumi, thanking her for the food as you and shoto made your way out. once you two were a few blocks down, you let out a content sigh, "i'm glad that went well. i almost shit my pants while talking to your dad."

shoto let out a little laugh as he interlocked his fingers with yours. "thank you..for doing this." he says, looking down at his feet as you both stroll down the sidewalk. "of course, shoto. this type of rebel behavior is fun sometimes." you reply while giggling.

shoto smiles down at you as he squeezes your hand, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you in closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

"i love you." he whispers.

you gently tangle your fingers into the back of his hair as you whisper back, "i love you too."

NOTE — first time writing a full length fic lmk how i did 😓🙏 (dont be mean i will cry). i rewatched the scene when shoto brings bakugo and izu to his home for dinner for some inspoo. YK I WAS ORIGINALLY GONNA MAKE THIS ANGSTY but guys i believe in endeavor redemption journey so i just couldn't also i yap so much in these author note things oopsies also i love fuyumi

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jack Howl - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

Back home, I'd have my family to celebrate with, but here... I wonder what kind of birthday tomorrow will bring.

Summon: Doesn't matter to me if it's my birthday or not. I'll just do what I gotta do.

Groovification: Today's a special day. I'll make sure to put special care into styling my hair today so it doesn't end up lookin' lame!

Home: I gotta put my homework away.

Swap Looks: What type of protein should I go with...?

Home Transition 1: I'd always just be wearing a shirt and cardigan back home, too. It's much easier to regulate my temperature if I'm wearing a jacket or something.

Home Transition 2: The nightcap that Rook-senpai gave me is nice that it even covers my ears, but... It kinda weirds me out that it fits me perfectly.

Home Transition 3: My room itself is pretty small, but I'd say the reason why I can't do my stretches here is because of all of my roommates' stuff scattered everywhere.

Home Transition - Login: I'll make sure to do my daily studying and training routines as usual. Birthdays aren't an excuse to slack.

Home Transition - Groovy: I really like Riddle-senpai's way of giving encouragement... It kind of pumps me up even more. Makes me happier hearin' that than just being told to rest 'cause it's my birthday.

Home Tap 1: My roommates keep throwing their dirty clothes all over my personal space. Maybe I should just finally throw them all away.

Home Tap 2: The body composition monitor that that Ortho gave me is pretty useful. Just knowing how much muscle I have really helps me determine what training I should do.

Home Tap 3: I've tried styling gel before, but my hair got way too stiff... I've only used wax since then.

Home Tap 4: I can't tell if Lilia-senpai is trying to celebrate or surprise me... I couldn't help but square up when he let off a party popper from his perch in a tree.

Home Tap 5: What's the knitted pattern on my cardigan called? Actually, I don't really know. It's something I see in my hometown a lot, so I've never really thought about it.

Home Tap - Groovy: Didja forget I've got a real good nose for things? I can tell just by smell there's food and cake prepared. So sorry that it couldn't be a surprise.

Duo: [JACK]: Riddle-senpai, I'll make this my most productive year yet! [RIDDLE]: That's a good mindset, Jack.

Birthday Login Message: Oh, hey, it's you. What am I carrying? Just some sports drinks that Deuce gave me for my birthday. He gave me a whole case full so I'm just carrying it to my room. Man, he just had to give me something so big... Heh, now where am I gonna find the place to put this? By the way, what do you have there? ...Huh? A present for me? And it's more sports drinks!? ...N-Nah, I'm not saying I don't need them. I drink 'em every day, so it's good to have a ton. Right then, I'll take them off your hands. What, you don't think I can carry two cases by myself? It's no big deal. So, yeah, uh... Thanks.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[dcxdpdabbles]

You know what would be really fun?

You know the typical trope

Batkid meets Danny and has a huge crush on him

Maybe they're just acquaintances or even friends

The thing is, Batkid pines for Danny, a lot

A little stalking here, a little cyberstalking there, just to get to know him better

(Bats are incapable of being normal with their feelings)

Batkid wants to ask him out on a date, but doesn't have the courage (or for whatever reason)

The family finds out, of course because they're nosy and intense

The family gets involved in that relationship (that doesn't exist yet) already excited about the future brother-in-law

They're already, jokingly, planning the wedding

The family encourages Batkid, that "they're perfect for each other", that "he'll accept", that "you're a great catch"

Batkid goes and asks Danny out on a date

There's just one little problem

Danny is Aroace

and he says No thank you (or even *confused nervous laughter* What? no)

Cue the confusion (anda maybe outrage) in the Batfam

(That's right! I'm subbing this trope, love loses here)

"No, thank you. I'm AroAce," Danny tells the man who approached him and offered to take him out on a date.

"Oh, sorry for bothering you. Have a good day," he says, raising his hands and backing away. He returns to the table of other black-haired people who are doing poor jobs of not staring. They all start jeering and taunting the man until he shakes his head and speaks.

Everyone at the table pats him and passes the chips and dip. They move on to a different topic, and Danny can't help but feel highly grateful none of them made it a big deal.

One of the girls with dark hair sees him staring, but she merely smiles. She proudly holds up her purse, displaying the demisexual pins, and with a wink, she lets Danny know that he doesn't have to feel uncomfortable.

It is then that he realizes he actually knew that man. He was Jasson Todd, the TA for Sam's advanced English Epic Poems class. Danny would see him whenever he waited for her class to end since he was her ride. He would do his homework in the back of the lecture hall after getting permission from the professor since he could use their Wi-Fi.

He never realized Todd paid him any attention.

He returns to the bar, signaling the barkeep for another jarrito mug tequila shot. That's when Jazz returns from the bathroom, smiling at the few men who throw her appreciative looks but find her seat next to him without stopping for any of them.

"Don't be mad," She says, gesturing to the approaching mariachi band. "The restaurant has a special treat for birthday boys."

Danny can only turn bright red as the band surrounds him, and an employee appears carrying a slice of chocolate cake. They surround him, tuning up the Spanish birthday song (He thinks it's called The Little Mornings?). Jazz is signing along because she studied Spanish and worked as an English teacher in Mexico for about four years before returning to the USA to finish her childhood dream of being a psychologist.

She recommended this restaurant because it was classy and well-decorated, and the food was authentic Mexican cuisine, which she had missed so much.

Danny smiles awkwardly, unused to the attention when he realizes that Jason Todd is singing from his table and his siblings (?) are all clapping along. From the corner of his eye, he catches Jazz, sending Todd a grateful smile that has a tad bit too much interest.

The man may leave this place with a date from a Fenton after all. Todd blushed when Jazz sent him a drink towards the night's end, but he didn't seem uncomfortable with her attention.

Danny got to leave with the whole chocolate cake behind the counter. Everyone had a great night.

[dragon-ascent]

Zhongli feels like things are getting serious with you, so he decides to reveal to you his true identity. He'd initially wanted to wait for the perfect opportunity to do so, but this is the kind of band-aid that needs to be ripped swiftly. So, he sucks it up, sits you down one fine evening, and tells you his secret.

To say you're stunned is a grossly massive understatement. You look like you're about to combust, with the way you're shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, god..."

"Yes, precisely." Zhongli squeezes your hand calmly.

"Oh god oh god oh god..."

"Indeed a god, dear. But fret not-"

"You're here to punish me, aren't you?" you whine, crouching to the floor.

"Punish you?!" Zhongli raises an eyebrow, crouching to your level and placing a hand on your shoulder to steady you, though it barely helps with the way you're vibrating right now. "Whatever for?"

You're practically hyperventilating now. "So like, when I was in grade three, I promised my friend I'd lend her my color pencil, but I ended up not lending it because I didn't trust her clumsy ass not to misplace it! D-does that count as a contract unfulfilled?!"

Zhongli stares at you. "What..? No, that is hardly a-"

"Or," you wail, "that time I told my cousin we'd split a big cookie 50-50, but it was actually 55-45 in my favor on purpose?! Fairness was lost, wasn't it?! The contract became proof of my deception?!?!"

The poor ex-archon shakes his head. "No, emphatically no!"

It's like you're not even listening to him as you shamefully list off all the times you told lies, failed to make good on deals, and the like. "Please...forgive me! Don't punish me! I'm too young to face the Wrath of the Rock and die!"

Zhongli rocks you gently all night, reassuring you that he does not punish people for having not done homework when they were young.

[felinecyan]

Trust Issues

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Some friendly advice: don’t ever go to the rival of your spar partner for help.

WC: 4893

Category: Fluff, Slight Angst,

This blog is a MHA fan page at this point HAHAHA

But since you guys REALLY liked the first oneshot of him, I felt inclined to write another one. So, here you go! 💞

『••✎••』

You didn’t think it would come to this.

In all honesty, you had never intended to hurt your friend.

All you had wanted was a fair fight. After all, that was why you were training, wasn't it?

So you could become a hero?

Now, granted, it was not a secret that Izuku Midoriya had always been on the… opposing end of Katsuki Bakugo's wrath ever since childhood. The boy was a spitfire; you had known that from the moment he had first stepped into class.

The Sports Festival only proved it. He was strong, powerful, and unafraid to let anyone who stood in his way know. It was that sort of determination that you had hoped to one day achieve, the will to succeed and not allow anything to hold you back.

It wasn't that you were star-struck or even jealous when he had been crowned first place at the festival. It was just inspiring, in a sense. He had fought tooth and nail to win, and in the end, he had come out on top.

However, his victory did not mean he could rest easy.

After the Sports Festival, Bakugo had taken a sort of… interest in you. You supposed he liked the way he fought against you, or maybe it was because he saw potential in you as a rival, but when class was over the next day, and the blonde had approached you, telling you to meet him out back, you were overjoyed.

Until he started to beat the ever-living crap out of you, that is.

And he still was, even now.

Every time you believe to be gaining more and more strength, he only proves to have become stronger. It was quite disheartening, actually.

Still, you did your best to keep up with him. It was no surprise to you, though, that he was better at you in almost everything.

That's why it seemed like a great idea for you to start sparring with Deku, right? Maybe the green-haired could teach you a few things and help you gain a bit of an advantage over the hothead.

But, as pure intentions would have it, the choice you made that day had landed you here.

You were at your locker, picking up books for Aizawa’s lesson when a hand rested atop the door of your locker. He didn’t close it, only using it as a resting place for his arm, so you didn't immediately look up to see him, instead pretending that you hadn't noticed him.

"Hey,"

Not a voice you were familiar with. You glanced around the area before looking over at the source—a tall boy with short black hair and dark brown eyes.

You blinked a couple of times. "Hi…?"

He flashed a grin and leaned a bit closer to you, his voice dropping low. "Nice weather we're having, don't you think?"

"Uhm… sure, I guess." The confusion was obvious on your face, and he laughed at your expression. "It's nice, yeah."

"Well, the weather seems a lot nicer on the roof, I think." His words were slow, and his smile was growing a bit too much for you to be comfortable with. "I could take you there, show you the view. What do you—"

He was caught off by the large hand that suddenly slammed down on the top of your locker, shutting it. You were about to tell the person that the door had hit your head when you looked up at those glaring crimson eyes and felt your stomach drop.

Katsuki Bakugo.

"Hey, what the hell?!" The boy exclaimed. "What's the big deal?!"

Bakugo didn't seem to acknowledge the other, simply glaring down at you only. You were frozen in place. You had never seen the boy this angry, not even at the USJ attack.

"You." His voice was quiet, unnervingly calm, but the undertone was filled with enough venom to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "You lied."

"Uh—" You began but were cut off.

"You told me you had to bail yesterday. That you had homework to do." He was staring right through you, and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine.

You swallowed, and his eyes flickered to your throat for a split second. "I did, though."

"You didn't," He hissed, teeth gritting together. "You were with him."

"With who—"

You had no chance to react before he slammed his fist against the lockers again, right beside your face, and the boy who had been trying to talk to you only watched as you were cornered.

"Don't lie to me, damnit!" He was snarling, eyes alight with fury. His hand moved from the lockers and back to his side. "You were with that shitty nerd. Don't you fucking deny it."

"I—" You tried, but your voice was shaking, and he interrupted you before you could say anything.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" He leaned down to your level, his red eyes burning into yours. "Do you really think I wouldn't find out about your little play date with Deku?"

"Play date?" Your eyebrows furrowed. "I was just training, Bakugo. It's not that big a deal."

He scoffed, pulling his hands into his pockets. The rage was still in his eyes, but he didn't appear to want to act on it, instead turning his head to the side.

And despite it not being a good time, the dude beside you was still here, and he had a comment.

"Hey, I was here first, dude." He said, stepping forward. "It’s clear you two have a problem, but this chick isn’t yours. Beat it."

You were honestly expecting Bakugo to explode on him, maybe even punch the guy. He was always so aggressive.

Instead, he simply stared at him for a long moment, blinking at his audacity, only to roll his eyes and turn back to you.

"If you think Deku can help you, then go ahead." He shrugged, taking a step back. "We’ll see how good his teaching is if it can get you to stand a chance against me."

"You think—"

He interrupted you, not even giving you the chance to finish.

"Five o’clock, gymnasium." He smirked, but his eyes were hard. "Don't make me wait."

"But, you said—"

He had already turned his back and began to walk away, the other boy watching him with a dumbfounded expression.

Bakugo only nudged him aside with his shoulder, not giving him a glance as he left the hallway. He might’ve called over his shoulder, calling the kid an extra.

You weren't sure, and frankly, you didn't care. The only thing you cared about at that moment was what just happened, what was going to happen, and kicking the ever-loving shit out of the tattletale who just ruined everything.

The guy was still staring at the hallway Bakugo had disappeared in, his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Did he just—"

"Don’t." You held up a hand, and his mouth shut immediately. "Just don't."

The boy didn't say anything after that. You left him as he was, not caring if he was confused or not. He shouldn't have interrupted in the first place.

You walked to the classroom, immediately hunting down the other blonde, who happened to be your betrayer. He was sitting down, talking to Sero and Kirishima, but you didn't hesitate to grab him by the ear and drag him away.

"Hey!" He cried out, struggling to escape. "What the hell?! Lemme go!"

"Why'd you do that?!" You demanded, turning to him and letting him go. "You ratted me out!"

He blinked, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Denks!" You pointed at him accusingly, glaring at him. "You told Bakugo that I was training with Midoriya."

"I… was under a lot of pressure, okay?" He raised his hands defensively, leaning back. "Bakugo came to me after school and demanded where you were. He threatened to blow my face off!"

"Oh, yeah, real mature." You rolled your eyes. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?! He’s going to actually blow my face off."

"He didn't seem that mad," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it'll be okay."

"He talked like a regular person," You crossed your arms. "He was terrifyingly calm, Kaminari! And now he wants to meet me in the gym at five o'clock."

"Dude,” Sero extended the vowel, sitting forward in his seat as he had heard the conversation. "You’re so screwed."

You couldn’t help the glare you threw at him.

"You're not helping."

Kirishima also turned, frowning. "No, dude, he's right. You are screwed. I mean, you were sparring with Midobro behind his back." He shook his head. "He probably wouldn’t have cared much if it was me or anyone else, but—"

"You picked his mortal enemy." Sero finished, raising an eyebrow. "Like, seriously, dude. What did you expect?"

"Kaminari not to snitch on me?" You threw a look at the yellow-haired boy. "So much for being friends, huh?"

"Hey, I warned you," Kaminari huffed, crossing his arms. "But no, you wanted to hang out with his rival. If I didn’t tell him, I'm pretty sure he would've killed me. Like, literally, he would've killed me. No doubt."

"But you're fine with me dying?" You asked, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. "I see how it is."

"I thought I would have until after lunch to warn you," He defended himself, shrugging. "Guess he warned you instead, huh?"

You sighed, shaking your head.

"You guys aren't helping," You turned, running a hand through your hair. "I'm dead. So dead. Oh my god."

"Alright, who pissed off the chihuahua?"

You spun around at the sound of Mina's voice, seeing her, Jiro, and Hagakure all standing together.

How wonderful. The gang's all here.

"What are you talking about, Ashido?" Kirishima questioned, tilting his head.

"Bakugo's pissed," Jiro explained, pointing a thumb in his direction. "He’s storming through the hallways like someone just took a dump in his cereal."

"And it's not like he was in a good mood this morning, either," Hagakure added, bouncing on her toes. "Did something happen?"

You groaned and flopped down into a chair, hiding your face in your hands.

"Idiocy happened," Sero answered, shrugging. "That's what happened."

"Shut it, Tape Boy."

"You should probably tell us," Mina advised, sitting down next to you. She pulled you into a side hug, patting your shoulder. "What's up? Talk to me."

"Bakugo found out that I've been training with Midoriya," You mumbled, and the three girls nodded. "I’m dead. Aizawa can’t even save me."

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad." Jiro rolled her eyes, walking over to join the group. "Bakugo's all bark and no bite."

"He's not… all bark." You muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"I can vouch for that." Kaminari grinned, but the glare you shot him made him falter. "But uh, no, yeah, he's definitely more bite than bark."

"Oh, you poor baby." Hagakure cooed, leaning forward to ruffle your hair. You couldn't see her face, obviously, but you had a feeling she was smiling. "You can do it, though. It can't be that bad."

"You know what you should do?" Kirishima suggested a bright smile on his face. "Talk to him."

"I think that would make things worse, dude." You rubbed your eyes, sighing.

"I mean, tell him why you were doing it." He shrugged. "He’s feeling all types of betrayed right now, I bet. If you just explain your reasoning, he might let it slide."

"Doubtful."

"But it's worth a shot, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile still intact. "Plus, you’d be showing him that you aren't afraid to take the initiative. Maybe he'll be a bit nicer."

"Do it at lunch so that if he tries to kill you, there'll be teachers nearby." Sero grinned.

"You're really not helping." You glared at him, but the group just laughed, leaving you to your sulking.

Mina was about to say something when the door to the classroom opened, and the very loved and grumpy Aizawa walked in. He didn't say a word; instead, he just shot a look at the group before sitting down to wait for the last few minutes before class started.

As much as you wanted to believe it, the only thing the group's conversation managed to do was make you more worried. You spent the entire class staring off into space, staring at the blonde boy who sat two seats in front of you.

His shoulders were tense, and his pencil was practically snapping in half as he scribbled notes on the paper. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker back and forth, his teeth gritted, and his pencil would move a bit faster.

You couldn’t focus on what Aizawa was saying, too distracted by the blonde's behavior.

The class seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the bell rang, and the class began to shuffle out, chatting and laughing with their friends.

"Hey, Bakubro!" Kirishima walked over to the hothead, who had stayed behind to pack up his things. "You okay, man?"

He was a real one, that Kirishima.

"Peachy." He replied, throwing his bag over his shoulder. His tone was dry, and his eyes were tired, but there was a hint of anger in them.

"You sure? You seem a bit—"

"I'm fine, Shitty Hair." He hissed, his patience wearing thin. "Back off."

The redhead only nodded and backed away, holding his hands up. "Alright, man. Whatever you say."

He looked over at you, his eyes flickering between you and Bakugo.

He didn't need to say a word. You understood. You slowly approached the blonde, your heart in your throat.

"Uhm," You started, your voice cracking. You cleared your throat, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible. "Can we talk? I'll buy lunch."

He glanced at you, his jaw clenching. His eyes flickered down to the floor before meeting yours again.

"What makes you think I need you to buy me lunch?" He huffed, his grip on his bag tightening.

"It's an offer, dude," You shrugged, trying to sound more casual than you felt. It didn’t work. "I just want to talk, okay?"

He stared at you for a long moment, the gears in his head working. He looked over at Kirishima and Kaminari, who had been watching, before rolling his eyes and huffing.

"Fine. Whatever."

He pushed past you and made his way to the door, not bothering to check if you were following. You gave the other two a small, awkward smile and hurried after him, following close behind as he stomped his way through the hall.

You kept a bit of distance but stayed close enough so that he knew you were still there. He didn't speak, didn't even look at you, and his shoulders were still tense.

This was not going to end well.

But he hadn’t said no, so maybe there was a chance.

"So," You began, breaking the silence. "I—"

"Why?" He cut you off, not slowing his pace. His eyes were forward. "I already know your damn reasoning, so don't give me some bullshit excuse. Just tell me the truth."

He had stopped walking, now turning to face you. There were students milling about the hallway, and a couple were giving the two of you strange looks. You tried to ignore them.

You focused on the blonde's gaze.

"You're strong," You confessed, your voice wavering. "I want to be stronger."

His eyes narrowed at that.

"You could've asked," He growled. "You didn't have to sneak around and hide shit."

"Asked to… what? To kick my ass harder during our spars?" You huffed. "Because, as much as I hate to say it, I'm not winning in those."

He paused, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked. "You wanted me to go easier on you? Are you kidding me?"

"No, that's not—"

"If you think villains are gonna hold back," He cut you off again, and the volume of his voice was getting higher. "You're out of your damn mind. You can't always depend on some shitty extra to bail your ass out."

"That's not—"

"Then what the fuck do you want from me, huh?!" He demanded, throwing his hands up. "You want me to hold your hand through heroics?! Is that what it is?!"

"I'm not asking you to do anything," You defended yourself, glaring. "All I wanted was a different perspective, damn."

"Yeah, what a nice perspective you got." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Get perspective off the kid who can’t even use his quirk without breaking his fucking body. What a brilliant idea."

"Oh, come on!" You crossed your arms. "There is no reason for you to be so petty. I did this for you, and for me. What's the problem?"

"For me? " He echoed, his eyes widening. "The hell do you mean, 'for me'? Going behind my back and training with the nerd is not doing something for me."

"I did it to be a better opponent to you!" You raised your voice, ignoring the stares of your classmates. "I'm tired of losing all the time! You're my friend, and I don't want to constantly have my ass handed to me!"

"We're not friends," He hissed. "Friends don't do this kind of shit."

You faltered, taken aback.

"I'm— You're—"

"Save it," He snapped, not meeting your gaze. "I'm done. Fuck this. Fuck you. Go find someone else to train with."

He pushed past you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stomped away. You stood there, gaping, unable to understand what just happened.

"Bakugo," You tried, your voice cracking. You didn't turn, too busy staring at the tile floor.

"Fuck off, idiot." He spat, not bothering to look back. "You can forget about the sparring later."

He didn't wait for you to respond. Instead, he shoved his way past the crowd, disappearing from sight.

You were still frozen, and you couldn't tell if the tears welling up in your eyes were from frustration or sadness.

The students rushing around you began to slow, staring at you with pity, confusion, or both.

But you didn’t have time to care because, at that moment, you couldn’t think of anything else.

Your stomach twisted. Your head throbbed. Your heart broke.

And you felt like you were going to throw up.

"Dude," Kaminari said, appearing next to you. "That was rough."

You didn't reply. You couldn't.

"Shut up, man," Kirishima said, placing a hand on your shoulder. He was frowning, his eyes full of worry. "She doesn't need that right now."

"This is some B-lister movie shit right here," Sero commented, shaking his head. "Seriously, what a drama queen."

Bakugo… he was… hurt. You could see it in his eyes. He was angry, obviously, but there was something else. Something that you had never seen before.

"He’s…"

"An idiot?" Sero guessed.

"A jerk?" Kaminari added.

"Emotionally constipated?"

At that, Kirishima punched Sero in the shoulder, causing him to groan and rub the spot.

"Ow, what was that for?!"

"He's just mad," Kirishima ignored the question, turning to face you. "Just give him some space. He'll come around."

"This is different," You argued, your throat burning. "I've never seen him like that. Never. It’s like he’s— I don't know."

"He's an asshole," Kaminari muttered, glaring down the hallway. "Don't waste your time on him."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes," You shook your head. "It was so different. He was almost… dejected."

"Hurt?" Sero repeated, raising an eyebrow. "The guy didn't look like he was in pain. He looked pissed."

"I… did this," You said, and the three boys frowned. "He said we weren't friends because I went behind his back. I didn’t realize he saw us as friends, and I— I ruined it."

"Hey, man, you didn't ruin anything." Kirishima shook his head, his voice firm. "He’ll realize the things he said and—"

You needed to apologize. You needed to go to him, and apologize, and explain in a way that doesn’t leave room for questions.

"I'm sorry," You spoke, interrupting the redhead. "I just— I gotta— I'm gonna go."

"Wait, I wouldn’t—"

But it was too late. You were already pushing your way through the crowd, not caring about the future consequences.

You were on a mission, and you were going to get shit done.

It was easy enough to find him. The Pomeranian hair was a dead giveaway. He never made it to the cafeteria and was instead standing off to the side, staring out the window.

He didn’t look up when you approached him, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

You didn’t beat around the bush or try to ease him into the conversation. You just came out and said it because there was no point in hiding it.

"Just…" He sighed, not bothering to look at you. "Just leave me alone, alright? We're done."

"Look, I didn’t—"

"Why can't you just listen?!" He yelled, whipping around to glare at you. Despite his angry expression, though, you could see the hesitation.

He wasn't as confident as usual.

"You're not listening to me," You argued. "I'm apologizing. Why can't you—"

"Because I don't need you to apologize," He snarled, his eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking apologies. You did what you did, and I'm over it."

"It's obvious that you aren't over it."

"What, and you are?"

"No, not at all," You shrugged, trying not to flinch. "I’m trying to fix the problem."

"Well, don't." He huffed, turning back towards the window. "There is no problem."

"You were going to take your anger out on me," You said, not daring to step any closer. "How the hell is there no problem?"

"I told you," He turned to face you. "I don't care. I don't give a shit anymore. I'm not going to spar with you. Not anymore."

"You can't—"

"I can't, or I won't?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Neither," You said. "I didn't— I didn't train with Midoriya because I didn't trust you."

He laughed. Actually, genuinely laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. You thought the most terrifying moment of his was when he spoke calmly, but that?

That, right there?

That was the scariest moment of your life.

"Are you joking?" He snorted, the smile disappearing just as fast as it had come. "You think that’s why I'm pissed?"

"It's— it's part of it, right?"

"Oh, no," He shook his head. "No, you don't get it, do you? Do I have to spell it out for you, dumbass? Do you want me to fucking say it?"

You hesitated, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

"Say what?"

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"I was fine with the spars," He explained, his voice quiet. "I was fine with the competition. It was fun. You were a good match, and it made me a better fighter. I liked it."

He stopped, taking a deep breath.

"But when you went behind my back," He continued, his voice tight. "And when you didn't bother to tell me and instead told Dunce Face? Of all people?! That's where I had a problem."

"What does—"

"It means you're a coward."

You felt as if you'd been punched in the stomach, the air being knocked out of your lungs.

"You couldn't even look me in the eye and tell me, so instead, you went behind my back." He continued, and the volume of his voice was increasing. "You were too scared to face me, and you ran off and hid like a child."

"That's not true—"

"It is," He growled. "You know it, I know it, and the rest of the class knows it."

"So, you're telling me you're pissed because I'm a coward?" You asked, trying to keep the quiver from your voice.

"Partly," He replied, and the look in his eyes made you flinch.

"Partly," You repeated, your eyebrows furrowing. "So, what's the other part?"

"That I trusted you."

The words stung. They burned through your skin and pierced through your heart, making you feel as if you were the one with the explosion quirk.

He didn’t let you respond and instead walked up to you, his eyes dark.

"I trusted you," He repeated, his voice low. "I trusted you to come to me if you needed something, and I trusted that you would be honest with me. I thought we were at least close enough for that, but it turns out I was wrong."

"You— you weren't wrong—"

"If I was wrong, then why the hell did I go to Deku?! Why not me?! Why did you not trust me?!"

"I did trust you!" You cried, your eyes stinging.

"You went to the one person who could break his body with every punch," He snapped, his hands curling into fists. "You went to the kid who can’t control his damn quirk, and you went to the one person that I—"

He stopped himself, his face twisting in anger.

"What?" You pressed, taking a small step forward. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." He spat, turning his head. "Forget it. It's none of your damn business."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Bakugo," You pressed, trying to sound more demanding.

"Fuck off."

"Bakugo!"

He didn't answer and, instead, began to walk away.

"Damn it," You hissed, running up and grabbing his arm.

"Let go." He warned, not meeting your gaze.

"I'm sorry." You pleaded. "Okay? I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you already said that."

"I do trust you," You said. "You're an ass, and you're annoying, and you can be a bit too hardheaded, but I still trust you."

He paused, not looking at you.

"Then why didn't you go to me first?" He asked, his voice wavering. "You were my damn partner, and yet you—"

"I didn’t want you to make me feel bad," You answered. "I wanted to surprise you and prove myself. I know I can do it. I'm strong, and I'm fast, and I can be better than what I am now, and I wanted to show you that."

He was silent, but he still didn’t pull his arm from your grasp.

"I couldn’t ask for your help," You continued. "Because I didn’t want you to treat me any differently. I wanted you to see what I could do without any outside influence."

"What a stupid reason."

"You don't have to agree," You muttered. "But it was my reasoning, nonetheless."

He didn't say anything, and you sighed, letting go of his arm.

"I'm sorry," You apologized again, trying not to cringe. "I should have told you sooner, and I should have come to you. I should have trusted the way you'd react and not predicted how you would act. I was being selfish, and I should have considered you."

He turned his head, his eyes still narrowed. But it wasn't angry. No, it wasn't anger at all anymore. It was pure curiosity.

"What were you trying to prove?"

"Huh?"

"To me," He said, his eyebrows furrowing. "If you were training with me, then what were you trying to prove?"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I'm not sure." You answered, not daring to meet his gaze. "I guess I just wanted to impress you."

"Impress me?" He scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "You really are an idiot."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means I don't need to be impressed," He explained, his voice softer than before. "I don't give a shit about being impressed. I just want you to be stronger."

"So you can still kick my ass? But be more proud of it?" You guessed, smiling.

"Something like that," He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I want to be able to fight you without holding back."

"Oh, come on," You complained, rolling your eyes. "That's a load of crap, and you know it. You wouldn't have to hold back against me."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, his voice lowering. "An hour with the nerd, and you think you're on my level now? You're delusional."

"You underestimate me."

"I'm not underestimating shit." He scoffed, leaning down slightly. "I can tell you, right here, right now, two minutes. I'd give it two minutes, tops, and then your ass would be on the floor."

"Really?"

"Really," He nodded, smirking. "Two minutes. That's it."

"Five o'clock?"

"Tch, fine," He agreed, taking a step back. "Don't be late, idiot."

"I won't." You assured, turning to leave. "I'll see you then, Bakugo."

"You'll see my foot up your ass."

And, just like that, the two of you were back to normal.

Did you win? Hell no. But your plan with Deku did come in handy, and you were able to put up a pretty good fight.

He did still beat you, of course, and the time was 4:57 when he finally got you on the floor.

But, it wasn't as humiliating as the previous spars, and you weren't nearly as embarrassed.

Instead, he just grinned, pulling you up by your hand and offering some tips.

And, honestly, they were better than the ones Midoriya had given you.

So, maybe going to the firecracker wasn't a terrible idea after all.

[emswritings]

Pandora's friend

Synopsis: Barty and Evan are introduced to Pandora's new friend.

Tags: hufflepuff fem!reader, rosekiller x reader, fluff

Word count: 0.6k

Authors note: I might do more of this if y’all like it

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I promise, you’ll love them,” Pandora promises you for what feels like the hundredth time. You were on the way to the slytherin common room with her, because she left her homework with her brother, Evan, and decided that it would probably be easiest to study there, instead of going all the way back to the library. You plug your ears as she says the password, and walk into the common room. Looking around at the dark room, you spot two boys who look extremely cozy, to put it nicely. Pandora either doesn’t care, or doesn’t notice, because she walks straight up to one with blonde hair that looks remarkably  like her, and asks him for her homework back. 

You stand behind her, not so subtly admiring the couple. One has blonde hair and tan skin with green eyes and the other has dark hair and pale skin with brown eyes. You must’ve caught the dark haired boy's attention, because he perks up, and says to Pandora, “Now who’s this treasure? Have you been hiding her from us, dora?”

Pandora rolls her eyes at him, then looks back at you, "Y/N, this is Barty," she gestures to the dark haired boy, "and this is Evan, my twin," she points to the blonder one. You smile at them both, waving slightly. Following her over to some of the desks in the corner of the room, you get your books out of your bag to start studying. Not even five minutes later, you hear a thump, and someone, Evan, coming over to you and Pandora. 

“So, what brought someone like you down here?” Evan asks, taking a seat on the desk you're working at and looking at your hufflepuff robes. You flush slightly at the attention, but reply, “well, me and dora were going to study in the library, but she left her homework here and decided that it would be easiest to work down here.”

“Can we help? We’re super smart,” Barty says, skipping over to the group. He stands behind you and looks over your shoulder to see what you're working on, potions, and starts twirling your hair. You look to Pandora, trying to see if it’s a good idea, but her eyes stay focused on her paper. You turn to the two boys who are looking at you expectantly, and shrug, “sure.”

That leads to you spending the next two hours with them, and you only finish one of the assignments that you had planned to do. It’s no big deal though, since you still have a week to get them done, and you got to talk to two cute guys. You only realize how late it is when Pandora comes back into the common room -you didn’t even know she left- with a plate of food for the three of you.

After the three of you eat, you let out a yawn, and start to pack your things. “Where are you going, doll?” Evan drawls, watching you lazily. 

“I need to head back to my dorm,” you smile, “it’s almost curfew.” That causes a very dramatic eye roll from Barty, who waves his hand towards who you now know is his boyfriend, Evan, “No need to worry about that treasure. Blondie here is a prefect, he can walk you to your dorm.” You smile at him, but decline, saying, “I would hate for you to have to go through all that trouble, besides, I have a test tomorrow, might as well get some beauty sleep.” 

The boys watch as you leave, and then Evan turns to Pandora and says, “You should study here more often.”

[loveinhawkins]

There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began.

Not that he’s planning on doing any studying: it’s the last day of school before the winter break, and while his face has healed up from the whole Billy Hargrove Incident, he still finds himself feeling wiped at random—like his body’s having a delayed adrenaline crash ever since he pulled Dustin out of that freaky vine-infested tunnel.

So really, this spot should be ideal for a couple hours of not having to think.

And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.

Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.

It had started when he ambled up to the desk with a healthy pile of books in his hands, placed them down neatly, all ready to be stamped. Flashed a charming smile.

Steve was too far away to hear the words, but he got the gist that whatever the librarian had said amounted to no, absolutely not, because Eddie scooped the books back up, dumped them on a table a little distance away from Steve’s, then hemmed and hawed before returning to the desk with a more modest pile than before.

He was sent away again with presumably the same refusal, and so the pattern repeated until this very minute: he’s returning with just one book in his hands, his smile less charming now, more desperate.

But… no luck.

Eddie slouches back to the table in defeat. Just stands there, staring down at the books.

And goddamn it, Steve thinks, now he’s invested.

“Hey. Munson,” he says in an undertone. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t miss the weird kind of double take Eddie gives him, but at least Steve knows it’s not because of his face being a mess this time—seriously, drawing looks from students when all he wanted was to get in line for crappy cafeteria pizza had not been fun.

“Nothing,” Eddie says with a shrug, and he flashes another wide smile that makes Steve think bullshit. “Apparently I racked up a mountain of late fees. Who knew?” He sighs, glancing at his wristwatch. “Guess I’ve got enough time to just read the—oh. Um. Hey?”

“These books?” Steve confirms, having already stood up to look at them.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Yeah, these—uh, Harrington, what the fuck do you think you’re—?”

Steve heads over to the front desk with the books. It’s not all that difficult of a decision to make; he remembers Tommy H had his own library late fees in freshman year, but got nothing more than a simpering, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, sweetie,” just because his mom knew someone on the school board.

“For checking out, please,” Steve says, not bothering with a smile as he hands over his library card.

The only resistance he gets is a raised eyebrow from the librarian before all the books are stamped.

“What the fuck,” Eddie says, voice flat; he doesn’t take the books when Steve tries to give them to him, so Steve just shrugs and goes back to his seat, sets the books pointedly on the edge of the table.

“Look, man, it’s up to you, but I’m not gonna take them. They’ll just be sitting here.”

Eddie huffs. He goes over to the books, his hand twitching towards them before drawing back, like he’s at war with himself.

“You—you didn’t have to do that,” he gets out as if it physically pains him to do so.

Prickly, Steve thinks.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. “My account’s gathering dust, so someone might as well get the good of it.”

At hearing that, Eddie looks a little less defensive. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, then says, his tone serious, “Harrington, I’ll—I’ll forget. Like, with the holidays… like, I guarantee you, even if I write a million fucking reminders, I’m gonna take these books and forget to bring ‘em back for months.”

“Oh, no,” Steve says dryly, “lemme go alert the press, I just heard a blatant confession to a crime. Dude, just take them, what do I care if your homework takes you months to—”

“It’s not even for school,” Eddie interrupts through gritted teeth, “it’s dumb, it’s just—”

“Jesus Christ. Lemme call the press again, sounds like you’re reading a book for fun.”

Eddie stares at him. Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge—he could do this all day; just the other week, he’d beaten Mike in a brutal staring contest that felt like it went on for hours.

Eddie breaks first. “Fine,” he says with another huff, but he’s less agitated when handling the books—lingers thoughtfully on their titles, puts a couple in his backpack. The rest he opens at seemingly random parts, but it looks like he knows what he’s searching for.

And then it seems as if he’s just going to pick up the remaining books and walk away—Steve expects him to, honestly—but he ends up staying where he is, gives Steve a look of consideration, almost like he’s a book worth reading, too.

“You stole my table, you know?” Eddie says.

“Uh, no,” Steve says automatically, then adds with more confidence, “I was definitely here first.”

Eddie snorts. “Nope. My senior year, uh,” he shrugs self-deprecatingly, “the first time around. That was my spot. Was pretty possessive over it too, think I signed the table, like, underneath.”

Steve’s eyebrows rise in interest; he runs a finger along the underside of the table and soon feels it: an E.M scratched into the wood.

“Huh,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”

A pause.

And then Steve surprises himself.

“There’s, um, room here, if you want? I’m not gonna use the whole table.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s a long enough silence in which Steve considers just telling him to forget about it, but then—

Eddie sits down opposite him.

It’s not as awkward as Steve was expecting: Eddie seems focused enough on his books, on bringing out a battered looking journal with sheets of paper that look like they’re hanging on by a thread. He roots around his backpack some more, retrieves a ballpoint pen with a quiet, triumphant, “Aha!”

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve isn’t even making an attempt to look busy; his own side of the table is bare.

“Didn’t know you were left-handed,” Steve says after a moment.

Eddie looks up from his note-taking. He smirks, waggles his eyebrows briefly. “Fitting, huh? Spooky.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

And Eddie actually laughs—hushed, but it still counts as one.

He soon returns to being absorbed in whatever it is he’s writing, which means Steve has less of a distraction when the familiar wave of tiredness washes over him.

He tries to sit up as well as he can, conscious of the fact that he’s not alone, but the radiator is the perfect temperature, and the steady scratch of Eddie’s pen has a soporific effect. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his head is nodding down with dwindling energy to try and stop it—hears Eddie’s voice, as if from very far away, rising in question.

Steve sniffs sharply, jerks his head back up and blinks hard. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and he sounds genuine. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie says. His lips twitch. “That was an awfully long blink then, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve retorts mildly. He stretches slightly, hides a yawn behind his hand. “Did you actually want something or—”

“Nah, wasn’t important.”

Steve frowns, unconvinced. The side of Eddie’s left hand is covered in ink, and Steve can see where his pen has started to die on him as his writing gets more faded across the page.

Steve puts a hand in his pocket, brings out another ballpoint and throws it at Eddie.

The pen bounces along the table, and Eddie manages to catch it one-handed.

“Good catch,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He sounds almost uncertain.

Silence falls. It only takes another minute or two of hearing Eddie writing away for Steve’s determination to stay awake to waver again. He slumps forward with a mumbled, “M’just gonna…” and lays his head down.

Eddie stops writing.

“Hey, man, are you… okay? Like, if you feel… if you wanna go home I could take you to the nurse? Or—”

“I’m fine,” Steve says into his folded arms. “S’just… the aftermath of… stuff. No big deal.”

“Oh?” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve lifts his head up a bit, squints dubiously. “C’mon, Munson. You must’ve heard the rumour mill.”

Billy Hargrove had spread it all over the school, how he had ‘taught King Steve a lesson.’ In all honesty, Steve hadn’t cared all that much about how he himself came across in whatever story Billy created, was just relieved that at least Max and Lucas’s names had been kept out of it.

“I don’t put much stock in rumours,” Eddie says carefully. “Folks can say… all kindsa things.”

Steve nods faintly. Fair point.

“Okay, but you can take a little bit of stock in this one. Like, a smidge.”

Steve demonstrates with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s only when Eddie doesn’t smile in response that Steve realises he’d been hoping to make him laugh again. Maybe.

“Huh. Well. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Steve says tiredly.

“Harrington. I’m not stupid, y’know? That was more than a… a stupid fight after school or something. Like, I can remember what your face looked like.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve sets his head back down, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t—I just meant whatever it was, it… it went too far. Way too fucking far.”

Steve yawns again, doesn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Something like that.”

He’s resigning himself to the thought of waking up with a stiff neck before Eddie sighs and says, “If you’re gonna sleep, Harrington, don’t be an amateur about it.”

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie reaching underneath the table with one leg, hooking his ankle round the empty chair next to Steve and shoving it closer to him.

“Three or four’s probably the best amount for stretching out on,” Eddie says. “Uh, speaking from experience.”

Steve smiles. “Noted.”

He manoeuvres himself until he’s lying much more comfortably across the seats, using his backpack and coat as a pillow.

Frustratingly but predictably, despite his fatigue, sleep doesn’t come easily, so Steve looks underneath the table and asks, “What’re you writing about, Munson?”

He can see Eddie’s boots, how one foot is tapping away, as if in time to a song no-one else can hear.

“Um, I was just… getting inspiration for… it’s kinda like. Like a story, but—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Steve says, “I know what a campaign is.”

The foot tapping stops.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Eddie says.

He sounds a bit far away again, though Steve knows that’s just in his head; he can feel his eyelids drooping.

“You’ve got…” He sighs, voice trailing off as he finishes, “No idea…”

Eddie launches into a speech; Steve can follow it well enough for a little while, Eddie rambling about the kind of decisions he thinks his players will make in the game, but eventually the words become a blur, and he drifts off just like that, into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.

He wakes with the lightest of touches to his shoulder, a soft, “Steve?” that nevertheless makes him jolt to full alertness in a blink, reaching for a bat he doesn’t currently have.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, almost falling back against the table. “What the hell kinda military training d’you have, Harrington?”

“Just have good reflexes,” Steve says, hopes it sounds casual enough as he breathes through his suddenly racing heart.

“Yeah, that’s one way to fucking put it. Anyway, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, like, startle you, but you slept right through the bell, man.”

Steve sits up; the library is empty apart from them, the librarian shooting them a not so subtle glare. And he realises that while everyone else was rushing out of school, eager for the holidays to start, Eddie must’ve stayed. Waited for him.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, quickly puts on his coat.

“God, sorry, you didn’t have to—if I’ve made you late, I’m—”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Eddie puts his backpack strap across one shoulder. “I wasn’t in a hurry. Um, are you… like, good to drive? I can give you a ride, if—”

“I’m okay,” Steve says, struck by the consideration behind the offer. He means what he says though; he feels pleasantly refreshed. He smiles self-effacingly. “Think I need one class where I can just sleep, and then I’ll get through the day.”

Eddie gives a playful scoff. “That’s already a thing, Harrington, it’s called first period.”

They walk out of the library together, and Steve finds that it’s kind of… nice, honestly. He keeps waiting for some awkwardness to creep in again, but it never does.

“Big holiday plans?” Eddie asks, smalltalk that should be stilted, but it just sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the answer.

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Oh, I’ve got—you know the Snow Ball thing tomorrow, at the middle school? There’s this kid I know, I’m gonna give him a ride there, but—”

Steve breaks off with a fond shake of the head, knowing that there’s this kid I know doesn’t really give it justice, doesn’t say the full truth: that Dustin Henderson has somehow wormed his way into Steve’s goddamn heart forever.

“His mom’s invited me over for dinner tonight,” he continues. “Think he wants, like, a dress-rehearsal of his outfit or something, which is probably the closest he’ll ever come to admitting he’s nervous. I kinda feel for him, honestly. God, do you remember being thirteen? Everything seemed to matter so much, and most of it was just… stupid shit.”

They’ve reached the parking lot, and Eddie gives Steve a sideways look with a bemused smile.

“Woah, Harrington, we’re still in school, remember? Don’t think we’re meant to sound so world-weary yet.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah.” He gestures at Eddie’s get-up. “Bet you’ve never once cared about the stupid shit, though.”

What people think.

Eddie’s smile turns more knowing. “Shockingly, Harrington,” he says, “I didn’t come out the womb like this.”

They both hesitate; they’re at Steve’s car now, Eddie’s van parked in a space that’s further away. There’s no reason, really, for the conversation to continue any longer.

But Eddie still lingers.

“Uh, enjoy your dinner, I guess. If the… dress-rehearsal goes shit, just tell the kid it’s good luck for the real night.”

Steve laughs. “He’s in the Drama Club, so that might work, actually. Thanks, Munson.” He opens the car door as Eddie nods, starts to head off to his van. Seized by a sudden impulse, Steve calls, “Happy holidays!”

“Yeah, you too.” Eddie turns, tapping at his temple exaggeratedly. “Won’t forget about the books, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You better not,” he says, tongue-in-cheek.

He starts the car and heads for Dustin’s house, honks the horn when he drives past Eddie’s van, catches Eddie waving.

Steve thinks he quite likes the idea (regardless of whether it’ll put his library account in jeopardy), of the books finding a permanent home at Eddie’s place. Briefly imagines Eddie writing with an ink-stained hand, curled up safely in a world of his own—where the only monsters are the ones that live in between the pages.

[uolarieclosed]

park jongseong ☆ ! love story

━━━ in which your neighbor, park jongseong had your heart since the beginning …

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who has been your neighbor ever since pre-school, you grew up with him just next door.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who would throw rocks at your window late at night when he couldn’t sleep and wanted someone to talk to.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who changed his schedule to be in the same classes as you.

“since when did you have ap geography?” you ask, taking jay’s schedule. “i applied this summer, i guess i got in.” jay snatched his paper back. in actuality, jay spent all of last year trying to get the best grades in his class.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who takes the same extracurricular activities as you even if he isn’t the most fond of the broadcasting crew or the photography club.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who takes photos of you, claiming you could be on the cover of the next school magazine.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who confesses by creating a short film of all the videos and photos he took of you, displaying it in the auditorium while he stands behind the curtain with flowers.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who falls asleep beside you when you study too late into the night, complaining in the morning about his back pain.

“my back,” jay groans as he stretches his body. “why’d you fall asleep here?” you frown, feeling guilty. “cause you’re here.”

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who back hugs you whenever you’re in the kitchen alone, leaving small pecks on your sensitive skin.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who is comfortable with just admiring you. if you’re doing your homework or watching a movie; he’ll lean his head on his palm and stare at you with a fond smile.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet.

“who’s that?” one of his classmates ask as he pays for his snack. “my beautiful girlfriend.” jay shuts his wallet quickly before walking away.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who is front row to all of your musicals/plays, screaming the loudest whenever you’re on the stage.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who has the dumbest signs made for you.

“oh my god,” you peek behind the stage curtain, making eye contact with the poster your boyfriend was holding up. ‘MAY I BE THE BEAST TO YOUR BEAUTY!’ — you were playing belle.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who never gets you angry, agreeing to everything you say even if you urge him to say what he’s thinking.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who doesn’t find the meaning of being angry over something that can solve itself.

“you shouldn’t hold things in jay,” despite getting in an argument together, you still care. “it’s not a big deal, just come here.” he opens his arms with a small, tired smile.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who writes you letters as if he were a secret admirer and he leaves them in your locker.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who spends lunch on the bleachers with you rehearsing your lines for your next play, contemplating trying out for theater because you have to kiss a random boy.

“what if i tried out as prince charming?” jay stands up, his hand on his chin. “you can’t act!” you push him down on the bleachers again, but jay laughs, catching your hand and kissing it.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who has a drawer in his bedroom dedicated to all the things you leave behind—as well as his backpack.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who cracks a (very unfunny) joke to all of his friends but only looks at you to see if you laughed.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who calls you just to hear your voice if he hasn’t seen you in a while.

SCHOOL BOYFRIEND JAY who’s had a crush on you ever since he knew the meaning of love, and the meaning is you.

© 2024 uolarie

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[princessoflalaland]

Not So Innocentᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: your sweet, little nerd isn’t as innocent as you think. so what happens when you find out he has a thing for you, the one who torments him?

.ᐟcontent: nerd jin itadori x bully fem reader, smut, riding, choking, dacryphilia

.ᐟword count: 1.2k

.ᐟa/n: this came out of nowhere. but nerdy little jin needs to get in my panties real quick or so help me

jin doesn’t remember how he got here. his pants undone with his ass on the cold, wood floor of the gym supply room with you bouncing on his condom-clad dick, sweaty and sneering. all he remembers is finding a note in his locker at the end of the day, asking him to come to the gym after school. 

he was skeptical at first, especially since he’s not the type of guy to be invited anywhere for any reason besides to be ridiculed for his academic prowess. he feared it could’ve been you who was trying to lure him to something he really didn’t want to deal with, probably to force him to do your homework for the umpteenth time. it was those fears that kept him in that shell of his for most of his school career.

but today, out of all days, he refused to let himself to stay in his little shell. it’s his last year, he needs to live a little. 

he found you where the note told him to go, school skirt doing nothing to hide your perfect legs. when the door clicked closed behind him, he gulped and stuttered. “w-what did you want?”

that smile of yours, all condescending on those pretty lips, appears on your face and that’s when he knew he was in deep shit. you pulled your phone out as you strode over to him. when you were less than a foot from him, you thrusted the screen into his face.

he adjusted his glasses and tried to figure out what he was looking at. it was a video of him, no longer than 10 or fifteen seconds. he was jerking off to what looked like pictures of you. jin swore his heart fell out of his ass and left his blood cold.

“this what you get up to when i don’t give you my homework?” you purred, pushing your breast against his arm. “huh, nerd?”

“i- that’s- it’s not-“ why wouldn’t his mouth work? jin’s body was burning up despite his cold blood. his pulse thundered in his red ears, so loud he couldn’t hear the thoughts that weren’t even there. 

“i- that- what, nerd?” you jeered. “tryna tell me you don’t get off to pics of me? ‘cause if so, im insulted. i’m not as dumb as you think, y’know.” 

your phone had disappeared, you were now flush against him. “i can’t let this go unpunished y’know. i find it so sad you think you could even fantasize about me, that i’m just some object of your desire.”

your voice was soft, a lustful, predatory hiss that rang in his ears. your hands, soft and dainty, had found his belt and quickly got it undone. those lips, with that alluring lipgloss combo you wore everyday, grazed his. “lemme show you what will never be yours.”

the rest faded and now he finds himself harshly gripping your hips, tears streaming down his cheeks behind his crooked glasses, begging you to let him cum.

“‘m sorry, i-i won’t do it again, i- aghh, can’t take it!” that was the most coherent thing he’s said in the past ten minutes you’ve kept him on the edge. 

“shut up,” you bark through panting breaths. “pissin me off with all that whining.”

your pussy is like a vise on his dick, squeezing him for all he’s worth. the lewd plap, plap, plapping sounds exactly as he imagined it would from all the erotic manga he secretly reads, like something straight out of a porno. 

 his head is in the clouds as the coil in his stomach tightens once again. he can’t believe how wet you are, how messy yet perfect your cunt is. you just slide on him like it’s nothing. when he isn’t looking at you through his tear-blotted vision, he watches your pussy swallow his cock like it’s nothing.

if anything, you can’t believe how big he is. each time your ass makes contact with his thighs, his tip jabs at your cervix, making you laugh-moan. what a joke. this little nerd walking around with this fucking monster in his pants.

makes you wonder what his twin is packing, honestly…

you bring your manicured fingers around his throat and squeeze. the way his moans become strangled makes your pussy throb. “jerking off to pictures of me? ya fuckin perv.” you whisper in his ear.

“i-“ he gargles around your hand, eyes rolling back into his head. his flushed face is so pretty, the sweat on his brow glistening in the light.

“still tryna explain yourself?” you huff with frustration. you speed up, bringing him closer to the edge. “just give up..and admit you’re a dirty, little perv who gets off to pics of me.”

he doesn’t want to admit it, to give you the satisfaction yet again. for once, he wants to come out on top. that thought alone reminds him how bad he wants to cum, how his dick is painfully, dreadfully hard from all your edging. jin chokes and grits his teeth, trying desperately not to lose more of himself in you. 

“say it.” you snarl. you let up on your choking to keep him from passing out. “admit you’re a fuckin pervert, and maybe i’ll let you cum.”

when you let up on his throat he gasps, coughs a bit before panting and drooling like a bitch in heat. his ears perk up at the offer, but what little pride he has left keeps him quiet. 

his balls are full, aching to let everything out inside the condom you. he sobs when your cunt squeezes him again, your essence staining his skin.

“don’t wan’ talk?” you pout, looking so innocent with your wide eyes and furrowed brows. “that’s too bad.”

you lift your hips and only keep his tip inside you. jin swears he’s never known pain until you did that. his impending orgasm is receding, the pressure lightening up in his core, and if he’s not quick, he’ll be back where he started and the torment won’t end.

and at this point, as much as he’s dreamed of this, he just wants to cum and be done.

“p-please, let me back inside.” he stammers, chest stuttering with irregular breaths. “don’t stop..i’m beggin you, k-keep riding me.”

“say it.” you repeat, shallowly fucking his tip. he winces at the small amount of stimulation. “you know what i wanna hear…”

jin squeezes his eyes closed and swallows the painful pill called his pride. “i…i’m a dirty pervert who- who jerks off..t-to pictures of you.”

he opens one eye when you take his glasses off him and set them on the floor. you cup his face and breathe “good boy.”

he practically cums from that alone, you don’t even need to keep riding him. so when you resume bouncing on his cock like the world is ending, he can’t help but to cry and convulse under you. his cum coats his dick thickly within the condom, and he fills it even more when he feels you cumming on him.

when you’re both done, you leave him burrowed in you, breathing hard, sweat coating every inch of your bodies. 

jin can’t find it in him to get up when you do, leaving his dick wet and limp against him. his eyes are dazed and distant as they follow you. 

you fix yourself as best as you can, fixing your skirt, redoing your hair, and reapplying your lipgloss. you smirk down at jin before kneeling down and kissing him on the cheek. 

“fuckin loser,” is the the last thing he hears you say as you saunter toward the door and leave him in the closet. 

[runnning-outof-time]

Hi K, I hope you’re doing well!🤍

I just wanted to make another request, if that’s alright with you. “I’ll break before I bend.” with Tommy?

Loving your blurbs by the way!

Thanks for sending this in, Reb @peakyswritings ! I’m sorry it took me a bit to write it — I hope you like what I did with it! I decided to use my family from my Girl Dad series because it’s been too long since I’ve written for them (a thank you goes out to the anon who messed me a little while ago asking about them). Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Just Some Puppy Love

Tommy Shelby x Reader (family from the Girl Dad series)

Warnings: none - just Tommy being overprotective of his daughter

Word Count: 922

Summary: Tommy’s unhappy about the fact that his eight year old daughter, Thea, has caught the interest of a boy in her class. (Y/N) tries to tell him that he’s overreacting.

“How was school today, darling?” (Y/N) asked her daughter as the she entered the home.

“It was great, mum!” Thea answered, a beaming smile on her face. “I even got to see Evie’s class during lunch!” she added, turning to look at her younger sister, who was nodding profusely.

“That sounds lovely,” (Y/N) smiled, thanking the family’s driver, who tipped his cap at her before returning to the vehicle. “Did anything else exciting happen?” she asked no girl in particular as the three went into the front room.

“Billy was being very nice to me! We played together at recess, and he even shared his purple crayon because mine was too little to use,” Thea was the first to speak up.

“Uncle Arthur’s Billy?” (Y/N) asked out of curiosity. She didn’t think that the cousins were in the same class, but she could have seen him during some other point in the day.

“No, Billy from my class,” Thea chirped while collecting her papers from her bookbag, “he’s always very nice to me. Sometimes we even hold hands and walk around the playground.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) drew out the word, nodding her head slowly. Thea said this in such a nonchalant way; like her mum was supposed to know about this beforehand.

“I scored the highest on my maths test today, mummy!” Evie jumped into the conversation, a beaming smile now present on her face.

“That’s lovely to hear, Evie,” (Y/N) smiled at the little girl while looking at Thea - who had now started on her homework - through the corner of her eye.

Boy, oh boy did she have something to tell Tommy this evening.

“The girls are all down?” Tommy asked as his wife entered his office later that night.

“Juniper fused a little, but they’re all asleep now,” she answered him with a smile as she made her way over to her usual spot on the chaise lounge. She couldn’t help but purse her lips to hide her smile as she finally made eye contact with him.

“What?” Tommy asked, catching onto her expression rather quickly.

“Nothin’,” she brushed him off, glancing down at her fingernails as she picked them.

“You can’t just send that expression my way and then say that it’s nothing,” he commented.

“Well I’ve just done that,” she countered.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” he demanded, his voice dropping to a low level.

“It’s nothing…” she started looking to him again, watching as his mouth opened to argue with the words she said. She continued before he could, “but you’re going to make a big deal over it.”

“Over what?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“Thea might have a boy in her class that fancies her.”

“No,” Tommy shot the idea down within seconds, “impossible.”

“Quite possible considering she told me all about it when she came home this afternoon,” (Y/N) commented. “It’s not a big deal,” she brushed the matter off then.

“Oh but it is. She’s only eight. The boys in school don’t need to be fancying her,” he insisted.

“She is eight, Tommy. There’s no harm in a little puppy love,” she flipped the narrative. Tommy didn’t seem to be buying it. “Besides, they’re not even…”

“Oi, I’m being serious here,” he cut into her defense, his eyes wide, “I’ll break before I bend on this one, (Y/N). No boys. Not for a long time.”

(Y/N) looked at her husband with pursed lips. The intense expression that he was wearing surely worked on his adversaries, but it did nothing to her. “You’re being dramatic about this,” she stated after a few moments had passed.

“I’m not,” he shook his head.

“You are,” she doubled down with a nod. “There’s no reason for a response like that. It’s not like she’s going to go and marry this boy tomorrow. They’re just holding hands on the playground and sharing crayons in class,” she explained the reality of the situation. One look in his direction told her that he wasn’t quite convinced. With a sigh, she stood from her chair. “I know…” she started, moving around his desk so that she could rest her hands on his shoulders, “she’s your first born…your little girl.”

“She is,” Tommy answered in a huff, pressing the pads of his fingers into his eyes.

(Y/N) paused for a few beats, leaning down to rest her chin on top of his head as she looked at the photograph of their three girls that sat on his desk. “You don’t need to be worrying about this stuff right now,” she said in a soft voice as she clasped her hands together over his chest. She heard him sigh as he rested his head against her arm. A smile graced her lips as she thought of something to add, “you have another ten years, at least.”

“(Y/N). Don’t,” his voice was low, the two words coming out in a warning. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling anyway.

“I’m teasing you, Tommy,” she told him, pressing her lips to his hair.

“I know. But I still don’t appreciate it,” he answered her, his voice soft now as he turned his head and pressed a similar kiss to the skin of her arm.

(Y/N) smiled at the gesture. This wouldn’t be the last conversation about boys fancying their daughters that they would have. But she knew that Tommy would do whatever it took to make sure that his girls were safe and got the best.

*tags in reblogs so that they hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

[bunni-v1]

Aommgg

Could I request the nrc staff + grim finding out you‘re a girl (plantonic)?

Or do they all know straight from the start?

TW: None

Info: Crowley, Grim, Sam, Cruel, Trien x Reader (Platonic)

🍓Hello lovely! I didn't want to make a whole long post about this, but I do want to talk about it. I'm so glad you asked! So the staff is... made aware of the situation, obviously. But, I think I'll go a little into depth on how each member deals with this information.

Crowley knows because... well... he sees you out of the ceremonial robes before anyone else does. He handles it as well as he does every other issue he comes across. "Just cover it up!" Famously said by Crowley. He's not unkind though, he does ensure that you get the help you need and he makes sure you keep what you need hidden, well, hidden. But... he won't do more than the bare minimum unless his hand is forced. Like... with Scarabia, he pretty much threatened the whole dorm with expulsion if they so much as uttered a word to anyone but amongst themselves. He is, unsurprisingly, not a father figure to you. He's more like... you're weird quirky uncle that you like, but only in small doses.

Grim, our little guy, finds out at the same time as Crowley... and he's a little harder to convince to keep his mouth shut to start. He doesn't like you, okay, you stole his position at NRC (like he had a chance at all). With a few well-placed cans of tuna from both you and Crowley, he keeps his little rat mouth shut. However, when you're actually granted studentship as NRC? His tune changes. It changes because Crowley holds his position as a student over his head, but it changes. Not a SINGLE person will ever hear you're a woman from Grim. He can't lose this position, not after so much work to get where he's gotten to. Besides, he grows to really love you! You're family to him, and no one out family. Seriously, he's so protective of it, once Ace and Deuce figure it out they're too scared to talk because of Grim's looming presence.

Sam is the first member of Staff to find out, other than Crowley. How? Crowley's sudden interest in pads, tampons, birth control, and all the fun stuff that comes with being a woman. Sam usually would just shrug his shoulders and excuse Crowley's quirky behavior, but then you come in looking like a lost deer and he gets it. He is genuinely so nice to you though! If you ever feel unsafe on campus, you talk to Sam and he'll handle it for you, okay? Sure, he jacks up the prices on your feminine products, but it's considerably less than his normal prices. Hell, if you're short, he'll "suddenly" remember he's got a discount on those items. He's like a cool older brother, honestly. He lets you hang out in the back of the shop and do homework when you ask, and he gives you snacks at a discount when you're there!

Crewel doesn't really treat you any differently than anyone else. Admittedly though, he's fond of you, even if you're a troublemaker. When you come into his class on your first day in a uniform six times too big for you, he feels pity for you. You didn't ask to be here, and now you have to wear that atrocious old uniform? You poor little pup. He's not exactly easy on you, but he's more understanding of your mistakes. Eventually, after you get to know him better, he offers to get you a nicer uniform and also privately tutor you. This is his excuse for keeping you busy so that you don't have as many chances to get found out, and it's also because you are horrifically failing his class and it looks bad on him.

Trien treats you the most differently out of everyone on staff. The SECOND he found out you were a girl and were being forced to hide that fact for Crowley's sake? Oh my god, grandpa was PISSED. Crowley got an EARFUL after that meeting. This man makes it his mission to make your stay as comfortable as he possibly can make it because sevens know Crowley won't be doing SHIT. After he meets you? Oh my god, you remind him of his own girls when they were little. He absolutely adores you, and everyone can tell. It's so odd to the other students because he clearly favors you, and when they ask you about it you've got no clue. He is your dad here at NRC, as out of character as that might be. You are a young woman lost in a world that is not kind to you going through so much more than you need to. He doesn't want to add more to your plate. You can come to him for anything and he will provide as best as he can.

Vargas (I'm sorry for forgetting about him lol) is a lot like Crewel in the fact that he doesn't treat you too differently from his other students. You're still made to push yourself to your upper limits for gym, still expected to keep up with your peers, and still expected to meet his general expectations. However, if it's way too much for you to do, out of fear of Crowley and Trien breathing down his neck, he'll lessen your load. Otherwise, he doesn't really have much chance to be around you outside of class. He finds you amusing and knows you've got a good head on your shoulders, but that's about it from him.