#Student Desk bench

[unganseylike]

undergrad research assistants are literally the least respected people ive been working in my lab for since 2020 and am trying to do my fucking senior thesis and now that a new first year grad student joined i no longer have a fucking desk of my own or a designated workspace. how do they expect me to work for $0 and do important research without a fucking place to do my work i am literally exploding

[occamstfs]

Marichismo

Allen, a smug engineering student, finds himself seeking shelter from the storm in a museum for Latin American art. By the time it clears up it's safe to say he'll have a more than healthy appreciation for the arts.

Might've gotten away from me a tad but I think it turned out quite well! Latino Race and Cultural change, MG and language change ahead. Also a couple more people have hopped onto my Challenge since I last mentioned it! Otherwise, espero que disfrutes! -Occam

Allen was on a side of the campus he’s never quite made it a point to explore. In undergrad and in his Masters of Engineering program so far there has simply never been a need for him to venture too far from the engineering building or the architecture library. That is until his partner on a superfluous project requested he venture into the no man’s land that holds the campus’ main library, one that runs absolutely rampant with students he sees as far beneath him.

Even worse than simply venturing beyond his comfort zone, as soon as the pair have wrapped up their progress for the day, heading off on their less than merry ways, it begins to rain. As the first raindrops begin to fall, Allen scoffs at himself for being anything less than optimally prepared. Before he’s able to reflect too deeply, the snobbish student clenches his tech-filled book bag to his chest and sprints into the nearest building, apathetic to whatever space he noisily barges into.

Before his eyes can adjust to the dim light of the new space he finds himself in, Allen hears a crack of thunder as the heavens open up behind him. Sighing in relief at successfully staying dry, Allen keeps his guard up, eying the lobby of whatever building this is that he’s never deigned to step into before now. He grimaces as he finds himself in an art museum. He does not like art museums. It’s not so much that Allen sees himself as above fine art, it’s- well no it is that. Immediately, he begins scanning the lobby for a power outlet so he may continue working while he waits out the downpour.

Head shoved under a lobby bench Allen ignores a caution sign as he forces his charger in, causing an inevitable shock that forces out a less than respectful expletive in this place of introspection. He eyes the empty room around him, slightly grinning at just how barren the lobby is. Clearly he’s not the only one apathetic to this nonsense. Shaking his hand to reawaken its nerves, he hears the clicking of footsteps against the gallery floor as a small woman walks around the corner carrying a stack of books that block her view. Allen eyes a handful of escape routes to hide from the older woman before lightning strikes once more and she trips over in shock, dropping her small stack of books, “¡Dios Mio!”

Judgemental asshole Allen may be but heartless he is not. Setting down his bag with a sigh and a roll of the eyes, the student walks over to help the older woman gather herself. Barely avoiding reflexively chiding his elder as he offers her a hand, he helps her up. The attendant pushes a large pair of glasses up her nose and squints at him with a kind smile, “Ah! Gracias, gracias mijo.” She pulls herself up on Allen’s hand and he cringes back as some kind of aftershock of static goes up his arm. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to affect her. Dusting herself off, she does a double take at Allen and adjusts her glasses, “¿Qué te trae aqui hoy, mijo? (What brings you in today dear?)

Allen hesitates, blowing air as he tries to understand why this woman thinks he knows spanish. Scratching the back of his head he finally looks to see the text blazoned across the front desk, El Gustavo Ramirez Museo De Arte Latinoamericano. Putting two and two together as he is ever so proud of doing, Allen immediately apologizes for intruding. “So sorry uh, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to wander into your, uh, space.” gesturing to the woman and the building around him in a manner to distinguish it not so much as beneath him but as an other. Something that is simply a bridge too far for him to gap. “This place isn’t for me so I think I’ll go ahead and step out.” Thunder peels before he can start to gather his things, immediately reminding him why he is in here at all. 

The older woman also relents, switching to English since, despite some instinct saying otherwise, the man before her clearly speaks only english. “Ah don’t you worry yourself mijo. The museum is for all, para todos. Free with your student ID,” she tacks on with a wink. Allen smiles uncomfortably, baring teeth enough that it could be mistaken as a grimace. 

He can’t just tell this old lady that he hasn’t a thought to spare, in his mind: waste, on the collections behind her. Still he doesn’t want to make conversation indefinitely waiting for the storm to clear either. Fearful of the outlet he’s used thus far he convinces himself there must be one hiding somewhere in the exhibition hall. He’ll just pacify her with entry and go find some place in between ostentatious paintings and droll statues to insert himself and get some actual work done.

Producing his ID wordlessly, he hands it to the elderly woman and she quickly shuffles behind her desk to type his name into some registry. Handing it back with a smile she leaves her hand hanging for a shake, “Wonderful to meet you Allan! Soy Lupe Carvajal. But you can call me abuelita, mijo!” Pocketing his ID with a dismissive laugh he notices not that his name is apparently misspelled on his ID card, instead he packs his charger up and shakes Lupe’s hand. “Hah. Uhm, whatever you say Mrs. Carvajal.” Her hand is wrinkled and frail but surprisingly warm, as if his hand were receiving the full body experience of a hug in but a single shake. 

“You know Allan, I must have thought you know spanish because you look quite like my nieto, my grandson.” Allan puffs his cheeks to bite his tongue, holding a picture in his mind of what this granny’s descendants must look like and knowing there’s simply no permutation that lands at himself. She continues, “Es un joven fuerte! Haha!” She does a little bicep pose which allows Allan to understand exactly what she means without her translating. He shyly smiles looking down at his own thin arms and wondering why this lady seems to be mocking him. After doing her bit, Lupe moves to sit at the desk and pulls a book off her stack, “You just let me know if you need anything mijo, si?” Allan nods and reflexively responds, “Si ab- Mrs. Carvajal.”

Odd taste in his mouth at almost calling this random woman grandmas she asked, he shakes it off and wanders into the exhibit hall, decidedly less worried about using her museum’s resources to his own ends. It has probably been over a decade since anyone was able to drag him into an art museum. Even then was he vehemently against wasting his time visiting. He just didn’t get art, and not for not trying. It’s just, aggravating that some people can get so much from some splotches of paint and he just sees a picture on some paper. Feeling himself get riled up he turns to the exhibit hoping for some distraction, which he finds in an elaborate statue of some dog. himself. 

Allan stands beside a huichol coyote covered in beads about two feet high. Spotlighted in the dim gallery he circles it like a predator, inspecting the bright beaded beast from every angle. See this he gets. This took time, this took care. Leaning in close the warmth of the overhead light pleasantly burns the top of his head. Absorbed by the shimmering light off the beads, Allan is unaware as his hair suddenly begins to lengthen. The buzz he has always kept short for sheer manageability begins to curl over his ears, growing warm even quicker as it tints darker. Not quite black but certainly not the blonde shade he was always happy to keep despite his spending as few hours outside as possible.

Before curls can begin to crest over his forehead, his face is not spared the glare of the spotlight. Immediately as his olive eyes glaze over, absorbed into the intricate stitched patterns they begin to stain darker. The jade he has always seen in his own reflection shades darker ever so slightly. Not brown. No he doesn’t have brown eyes, they’re just hazel? His eyebrows match the suddenly darkened hair on his head as he stands staring at the beast. Not expanding to cover more of his face but growing thicker, denser. Almost as if to shade his eyes from the light. His lips thicken as a grin begins to tinge his face. Reaching up Allan feels stubble begin to prickle his chin and upper lip, as if he spent time shaving this morning. 

Allan moans contentedly as he gives in and reaches fully into the spotlight to touch the coyote. Rules and codes of propriety fall to the wayside as he reaches beyond the realm of rationality to touch the statue of the trickster. His hands burn as they tint ever so slightly darker under the glare of the spotlight. As soon as his middle finger feels the warmth of the first bead he recoils in shock. “Q- What?!” He falls onto his ass, no time to inspect his decidedly browner hands as the commotion made immediately summons Abuelita Lupe. The elderly attendant meanders as quickly as she can into the showroom, “¿Qué pasó Alan?” Alan flexes his hand in shock. Whatever just happened it can’t be his fault.  Surely he didn’t just unprompted mess with some artifact on display. “I, um? No sé?” He pauses, unsure of what he just said, nonsense he thinks. “I mean um, I’m not sure?”

Lupe goes to help him up with what little strength she can muster only for him to wave her off, sure that she would only get in the way. He finds standing takes more effort than usual as he does so with a grunt. Nervously patting him on the back, Lupe asks him if he’s alright after the spill, buzzing around him with concerned pleasantries. Alan doesn't quite hear her as he instead inspects his own body. His clothes are tighter. He stretches and pulls at them, presuming them to just be falling weird on him after the fall. But close inspection shows otherwise. Looking at his cardigan it is clearly strained by his chest and stomach. Blushing at the idea he’s put on weight, Alan crosses his arms and notices how snugly his arms fill the sleeves, how his wrists hang out further than they should, not only that but they are unmistakably darker. Not brown, but without a doubt a few shades darker than his usual porcelain tone.

Recovering from being lost in his thoughts he looks to find Lupe staring, “Oh! Lo, uh sorry. Did you uh, ask me something Senora Carvajal?” Looking down at a sharper angle than he did earlier, he sees the abuela looking at his head with a tilt. “Did you do something different with your hair mijo?” eyes narrowing with concern and suspicion he thrusts his hair into his new curls. He immediately gasps in shock before reconsidering. This is how he’s always looked right? 

Thank god his hair is naturally curly so he can just leave them as they fall without much ado. He smiles and shakes his head at Lupe and she nods happily in return. Reaching up she puts her small hand on his bicep and squeezes it, Alan can barely hear her as he is struck with just how powerful his arm seems next to her small hand as she continues, “Well I like it mijo.” With that she aways and leaves Alan be. Having the floor to himself his expression grims as he pulls out his phone to look for a picture of himself. Something is off. His mind tells him everything is normal. When he looks at his hands he sees them as they have always been right? Why would he have a buzz cut when his hair is so naturally nice? Something in his gut screams out that something unnatural is going on. His camera roll should hold proof. Going through his phone he barely holds back a gasp that would surely summon the docent back as he is immediately greeted by a folder of his own nudes.

“Que chingado…” He whispers under his breath as his face burns redder than the scarlet beads on the coyote. He didn’t take these did he? Zooming in he is once more floored to see tattoos on his body. Looking down at his arm he sharply inhales as there's a sting and suddenly his wrist matches the image on his phone. Or no. He’s had that tattoo for years?

 Aghast at himself he still feels he wouldn’t have taken these photos of himself. Vain in many ways, his appearance is not one of them. He wonders if he’s been set up or hacked or something before he reminds himself no one would be able to do so without his knowledge. He’s a pro after all. Mind going to his technical skills, his chest puffs with pride as it grows to match the one he finds in the nudes soft-core and otherwise on his phone. Alan quickly shoves it in his pocket, finding it a much tighter fit than when he retrieved it. 

Looking around nervously, he walks close to the coyote once more. Narrowing his eyes he feels new memories come to mind from his childhood. Memories of hearing story after story of the trickster, he tilts his head as the slightest whiff of something amiss hides behind them. Staring into the eyes of the beast with suspicion the image of reading Greek mythologies by himself fades away to be replaced by his mother telling him stories from her own childhood. The coyote playing tricks and la Llorona terrorizing their little town just to make sure he stays in line. Alan smiles as he shakes out of the reverie, my mom wasn't morena was she? Headache rising as seconds pass standing near the beast he wanders away, muttering to himself without awareness, “didn’t want him in the main hall anyway.”

His hair continues to thicken and curl darker as he moves deeper into the exhibition space. Scratching at his stubble lost in thought he finds it defining itself into a goatee with a matching mustache. His phone still unlocked in his pocket shifts displays his form as he continues to change unawares. He feels himself begin to sweat intensely as his cardigan grows even tighter. His body decides to ramp up his masculinity as he starts to outright swell with muscle. His whole body twitches larger as he briefly recalls Lupe playfully flexing, “un joven fuerte!” He clicks his tongue and grins as he sees his biceps strain his sweater, almost enough to see his button up through the threads. He fights back a smirk feeling his shirt underneath hug the sides of his chest as his soldiers expand. Feeling his thicker pits start to sweat through said shirt and into the jacket he resolves to remove the cardigan.

His struggled grunts echo through the museum space as he struggles to get the cardigan off over his chest. The sound of fabric tearing rips through the room as stitches finally give way down the whole front of the garment, his pecs bursting larger into the open air. The top few buttons of his dress shirt also explode open as he is finally freed from the constricting sweater, “ayy dios- fuck…” He whispers to himself as he appreciates the ice cold air of the museum on his sweaty skin. The white dress shirt may as well be sheer with his sweat soaking it, allowing any gawkers to easily see tattoos running down his arm and the nipples almost poking through the shirt.

Only briefly does he wonder why he’s not self conscious about being exposed in the gallery before he notices a side-exhibition hall. “Ah si, uh. The temporary exhibit,” he whispers dreamily. Keeping quiet as any respectful museum-goer does. Though he doesn’t quite have the bodily awareness to mute his increasingly loud footsteps, each one growing louder as his upper body expands. He looks up to read the title of the exhibit as the sound of his shoulders widen enough to tear the back of his button up. Marichismo: Taking Back Latino Masculinity. He smirks as he finds the idea compelling, he’s uh, not hispanic of course. Nor has he ever been intrigued by ‘art’ in the slightest, he thinks. But something draws him deeper. Something pulls him further. Something in him begs for more.

His pants creak as he crosses the threshold into the new space, his ass expanding beyond the pale. Similarly does his crotch demand both more room and his attention as Arlad is immediately face to face with a deliberately provocative statue. The blush burning his face is just as soon hidden as his tan grows darker as he’s overwhelmed by everything in front of him. It’s as if Tom of Finland were Chicano. Bulges beyond belief force their way out at every angle. Rigid thick mustaches hang stoic on every face as Arlad feels his own stubble grow darker, thicker, itchier.

The student is torn between instincts, just as he feels increasingly torn between two worlds. His body continues ballooning and his shirt bursts clean off, buttons scatter to the floor and sharp tears launch down his arms. He can’t help but hungrily scan the floorspace as the bright lights bore into him, exposing him as if he were a piece of art on display. He looks down just in time to see his cock burst large enough to blow his zipper out which only addles his mind further, “Tal vez, just a minute…” He wanders into the exhibit hall proper as his eyes finally make the jump into a rich chocolate brown. He trips over his feet, gasping as he feels them stuffed uncomfortably tight in his oxfords before kicking off the shoes altogether. Just as soon do his pants rip off and he is left almost entirely nude in this exhibit hall.

His mouth hangs open as his cock acts almost like a dowsing rod in between pieces. The language in which Arcad thinks rapidly begins to change altogether, already a bilingual medley, with each starved look at photographed vaqueros or bulge forward paintings does English drift farther away. Maintaining fluency in both of course, the man would never let that tongue take predominance over that of his madre y su madre before her. His pecs pump even larger with pride as thick curls begin itching up from his crotch. He scratches at his stomach as he smirks at his body finally getting on brand. This whole show is about displaying masculinity and he needs to be the apex. He needs…

Arcad twitches as these definitive thoughts cut through the fog in which he has been going about. Why does he care so much about this place? He doesn’t like art. Certainly not this uh smut. He twitches as he argues that being provocative is the point, sexualization of the male form is the point. Why could he know that? How does he know anything about this exhibit? Looking around at the photographs he sees men who are almost a parody of masculinity. Fighting back the overwhelming pervasive horniness issuing forth from balls bulging larger he takes a deep breath and ignores the temple to the male form around him. 

It’s impossible for him to notice as his thoughts crest fully into español. After all it simply is the language in which he has always thought, no matter what his teachers demand of him. Back to the matter at hand he is struck with the urge to create. Mierda- this exhibition really inspired him, he should really write an essay about this. Or, no. He moans and clutches at his temples as the shining lights out of sight gleam even brighter, sparkling off his sweaty muscled form as he’s racked with the pain of opposing realities. No, that isn’t right. He doesn’t do essays anymore. That’s not how he creates. 

Memories of long hours at the lab and in dark rooms sitting at a keyboard dissipate. Haughty superiority over fields and forms he deems insignificant thankfully blast away as images of the photographs and artworks around him come to mind with an ease that makes him uneasy. Creeping in from the edges of his lived memory are other exhibits, many that he has visited, some that he has put on of his own accord. 

Tattoos continue to drip down his arm as his treasure trail rushes onto his chest, blooming out to cover his pecs. The space in between his mustache and goatee is quickly filled, as are the entirety of his cheeks as his eyes shut even tighter. Independent muscle groups twitch as his body struggles to forge him even larger, to be more. The lengthy curls on his head fall away as his head returns to a buzz cut, this time black as the night. This time impossibly deliberate. 

Arcadio buzzed it himself, he loved his curls. But he knew for this exhibition he had to sacrifice. Anything for his art. The phrase burns across his mind, Marichismo. It, it was his exhibition. Arcadio opens his eyes to find himself standing across from an oppressive statue staring down at him in disdain. His blood boils as his fight or flight activates. Though staying strong he just clenches his fist as his body bulges larger one last time. “Papa.” He made that statue, he isn’t about to be shoved around by his own art. The feeling of confidence filling him at standing up against the domineering statue is more than he could have held within him as Allan. Reverbs of confidence go through his psyche as he finally gets it. Turning around the confidence that fills him rapidly dissipates as he sees a man posing like a dog.

He exercised complete creative control of the exhibition, but did he take this? Memories of being behind the lens of the camera dance through his mind for most of the images, this one seems obscured. He ignores the cold sudden sting of a nose ring as he leans in close to inspect it, smirking all the while. Who’d he get to model this? Looking at the jockstrap he nods approvingly, mierda it is certainly hot though. His underwear stretches to its absolute limit as he forces his large hand down to paw his cock at the image. Looking down at his hairy forearm he gasps as he sees the tattoo on his forearm perfectly matches that of the model. 

At that moment his underwear burst free from his body and he suddenly realizes that being nude in this space is far worse a breach of etiquette than touching that coyote. Arcadio sprints to his bag and digs around for anything he could possibly use to hide his still bulging cock at half mast. “¡Gracias a dios!” he whispers under his breath as he wraps a towel around his waist, perfectly mimicking a photograph behind him. He smirks at the man thinking how proud Jose will be when he gets to see himself on a gallery wall. Arcadio grunts and clenches his head as memories of the man ahead of him fill his mind. Lightheaded he leans against the wall grimacing as he leads a sweaty handprint on the pristine white wall.

Turning around seeing the exhibit hall as a whole he almost falls over with a rush of memories. Advanced math and the life he once lived as Allan are dust in the wind as his childhood growing up the son of first generation immigrants in San Antonio rises to take their place. Living alone with his mother before his abuela moved up from Mexico to help raise him as if he were her son. Understanding himself and the world around him as he discovered who he was and what he had to do. Finally achieving success, winning grants, booking galleries as an artist. Not too bad for a maricon eh? He winks at the statue of his father, smirking as he feels his power as a man and artist grow.

Looking down at some engineering homework scattered from his bag the last pangs of a headache buzzes through him before he shakes his head and the work is gone. The last shreds of a life he once lived dissipate. Walking out into the lobby he sees his abuelita. She smiles at the massive man before adjusting her glasses and shouting out, “¡Ay! ¿Qué estás haciendo? ¡Ponte algo de ropa! (What are you doing! Put some clothes on!)” Arcadio laughs and waves her off, knowing the museum is closed while he preps his exhibition for opening tomorrow. 

His new voice is rich on his tongue as he speaks up, “Espero que les guste. La universidad no sabe lo que pagaron ¡ja! (Hope they like it. The uni doesn’t know what they paid for ha!)” His abuelita clicks her tongue, she loves her grandson more than the world but boy if he hasn’t made her old beyond her years. She digs through the lost and found next to her for something that might fit her larger than life grandson and throws it at him. The man laughs and his abuelita can’t help but join in the reverie. She wouldn’t dream of going through his exhibit- que obsceno, que cachondo! But he could do no real wrong in her eyes. So far he’s blown her expectations out of the water with his success and she can’t wait to see what Arcadio gets up to next.

[hughjackmansbicep]

Idk if you’re taking requests now but can you please write a Logan x reader who likes flowers🥺 like someone gives her a flower and she gets very happy so he decides to buy bouquets for her to see her happy

Contains: Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Warnings: Uhhhh none??? Cuss words???

Word Count: 1.08k

a/n: omg my first request!!!! been waiting for one :DD i hopes you like hope i delivered well...... im so bad at making endings i never know how the fluff to do it rahhhhh !!!!! enjoy enjoy feel free to request friends i find this sm funnnnnnn

Unbeknownst to you, Logan took note of everything about you. He’d watch the way your eyes sparkled when you'd walk through the garden; he’d admire the way you carefully hand-selected flowers for whatever bouquet you were making that week; and even though he always seemed annoyed when you'd make whoever was driving pull over so you could pick the wildflowers on the side of the road, he secretly adored it. So when one of the students made a beeline for you, roses picked from the garden in hand, he took extra notes seeing something so simple make your entire week.

“It was just the sweetest thing!” You boasted about the flowers for the thousandth time; Logan didn't mind though; he could listen to you talk all day long. You could've been reciting War and Peace to him, and he'd still be utterly infatuated with every word that fell from your tongue. The two of you were sitting on a bench in the garden as you rambled on about those darn roses when Rouge had appeared holding a vase with the most gorgeous floral arrangement. “These were just dropped off for you.” She spoke, holding the bouquet out. “Oh my! Did they say from who?” You were grinning from ear to ear as you admired the flowers. “Nope! Card didn't say either.” You fished for the folded-over cardstock; opening it just left you with even more questions. ‘In a room full of art, I’d still stare at you’ was all that was printed on the card—no name, no initial, not even a hint of who might this be from. You looked up, giving Rouge a warm smile and thanking her before heading inside to set up your new arrangement.

You'd just finished cutting and placing your new flowers in a vase when Logan waltzed into the kitchen, “Who do you think they're from?” He asked, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand, “Not sure, but whoever they're from, they certainly know my favorite flowers.” You smiled down at the flowers, thankfully paying no real mind to Logan. His face was completely flush as he tried to mask the smile making its way to his lips with a quick swig from his beer. He just silently nodded in your direction before yelling a quick goodnight to you as he swiftly made his exit out the kitchen.

This continued on for weeks, your secret admirer sending flowers to you, sweet notes attached to all of them. You had saved every single one, keeping them locked in a small wooden box under your bed, and every week when new flowers would arrive, you'd cut a few off from your last bouquet, pressing them in books to also savor. You had interrogated every single person in the mansion about these mystery flowers, but to no avail, no one would confess. You didn't mind though; while it was frustrating to not thank your secret admirer, you appreciated the gifts nonetheless.

“I just wish whoever was doing this would say something.” You exasperated. You were sprawled across your bed staring at the ceiling as Logan sat at your desk picking at his fingernails, something he only did when he was nervous. “Maybe they're scared?” Logan offered, and you flipped to your stomach, looking over to him, "Well, they need to nut up and just tell me, I'm starting to run out of books to press these damn things!” His eyes go wide hearing you've been saving the flowers sent to you, your brows furrowing in confusion at his reaction. “What?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, “N-nothing; I think Charles is calling for me.” He practically runs out of your room after that. 

You 100% knew Logan was the one sending you all these floral bouquets; he made it so painfully obvious, but you weren't going to say anything. Honestly, you wanted to see how long he could keep his little act up. How many more arrangements were you going to get before he finally fessed up? Your answer came 2 months later, when you received a bouquet. The note attached was just coordinates and a timestamp of 7:26 p.m. Punching them into your phone, it was a botanical garden just a couple miles away, a smile creeping onto your face as your cheeks flushed red.

You stood at the beginning of the path in the garden at 7:26 on the dot, your heart a jackhammer in your chest, your breaths shakey and laced with anxiety. It had to be Logan, but what if it wasn’t... Your thoughts were racing in your head, making you feel dizzy, your stomach tying into knots as your heels clicked down the path. Each step closer, you could feel your body tense up like cement was coursing through your veins, hardening with each passing second. 

Rounding a corner to the center of the garden, you spotted an oh so familiar face holding a bouquet of your absolute favorite flowers, the goofiest smile planted on his face when he saw you coming around. “I fucking knew it.” You whispered to yourself; Logan nervously laughed, of course hearing what you said. “Surprisee…” He drew out, opening his arms up to you, wasting no time. You ran over to him, being engulfed in his oh-so-large arms that you loved. “I just saw how happy you were receiving those roses from that kid; I couldn't help it; I love seeing your smile.” He bashfully admitted, and you smiled up at him, planting a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek in response.

“I wanted to tell you so many times, but I wanted it to be special, y'know, because you're special.” His face was burning red as he spoke, “I notice everything about you, from the way flowers make your heart skip a beat to the way you rebuke the societal norms of appointment times.”

"God, I hate that everything is set in 5 or 10 minute increments.” You sighed against his chest, shaking your head. He laughed just at your dramatics, “Exactly why I had you show up at 7:26.” 

The rest of your evening was spent admiring the garden and teaching Logan about every flower you both came across, and of course he listened to everything, absorbing every minute detail he could. If your words were gold, he'd dress himself in them every day; he'd tattoo every sound that escaped from your mouth. You were as precious as rubies to him, and god, he was never letting you go.

[starreo]

multi-character drabble.

includes college! student x teacher, and adult themes so, mdni.

he notices that hazy stare of yours every time he's teaching in class, your little smirk as your eyes travel up and down his body, particularly spending a little too much time on his groin are, it's so distracting. he notices your thighs rubbing against each other under your short skirt, because you refuse to sit anywhere except the first bench, what a shame he can't help you out. it's against the rules, and he sort of likes his job and it would be such a hassle if something went wrong. there's no reason for him to call you out to his office either, you're just so good at your academics.

it's been over a year. he's been waiting for you to make a move for over a year. but you never did somehow...except for your flirty "hi professor"s, you never really directly interacted with him. but he knew you knew, he knew. the way you made eye contact with him when you leaned back in your seat, letting your hand travel down where it wasn't supposed to, not in class, making sure his eyes were following before they cut off. on those days, he would have to sit and teach, y'know, to hide that huge boner you just gave him.

it's the last day of your batch, and he's slightly disappointed about never having gotten your number...today was his last day as your teacher and he knows he's gonna miss you the most, you slutty little brat. there'd never been a student as entertaining as you, and he doubts there ever will be...

he smiles at your report card, full of A's, setting it carefully on top of the rest of the class'. just then, the door creaks open. it's way after office hours though...he thinks as he turns around, his smile only getting wider once he notices you, standing at the door, your signature grin plastered on your face, skirt as short as before...

"had to see you today itself, couldn't afford to waste any more time..." he took a step back, raising his eyebrows in genuine surprise, letting his back press against his desk, "well, time is important, no?" he rolled the sleeves of his tight black shirt, something he had worn specifically for you, as a little parting gift..."now, you're not my professor legally, y'know." he watched intently as you locked the door, swiftly turning around to face him.

"but 'm still gonna call you sir tonight..."

gojo fucking satoru, professor! reo, professor! kaiser, professor! jean, professor! eren, professor! armin, professor! nagi, professor! suna, professor! atsumu + your favs <3

© starreo 2023. do not copy, translate or repost .

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃

ㅤㅤwoodshop teacher!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

warnings: semi-public fingering, dirty talk, reader has a small exhibitionism kink, competency kink

a/n: special thanks to the anon who requested this! I enjoyed writing it thoroughly ❤️‍🔥

There are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching Mr. Miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

The sleeves of his flannel were rolled neatly up to the elbow, exposing his forearms, strong and dusted lightly with sawdust from earlier. You watch intently as Mr. Miller takes the carving tool in his hands, demonstrating how to use it to the class. You’re out of breath. Completely entranced by the way his muscles flex and ripple in his forearms - beautifully defined beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt. Unlike the other students who take in the information in a more appropriate way, all you can focus on is the gathering wetness between your legs. 

So much so that you don’t even realize that Mr Miller had instructed the class to start carving. You’re dumbfounded when you suddenly find the man staring right in front of your working bench, staring down at you with an amused gaze. 

“Sometin’ wrong with your tools?” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. God. You’re an idiot. You open and close your mouth, he’s so close—close enough that you can breathe in his scent which you identify as pine. 

“No—No. Just. . .” 

He leans over the bench, his hands landing on the edge, fingers spreading over the smooth surface. Your eyes drop almost by instinct. You see the faint scars littered across his skin. 

“Distracted?” he finishes your sentence for you. You meet his gaze, heart beating in your throat, you expect to see an expression showing you that you’ve been caught doing something bad but much to your surprise, you see the lingering traces of worry. “We should talk ‘bout it after class. Sound good?” 

Does he really not see the state you’re in? That you’re practically soaked to your core—ready to say yes to anything that comes out of his plush lips. Is he that oblivious to his charm?

“Yeah,” you mutter, grabbing one of the carving tools sprawled out. You wrap your fingers around the material, squeezing it, your thumb faintly caresses the contour. His eyes flicker at the subtle movement. “Sounds good.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on or are we goin’ to continue to have a stare-down until my next class?” 

He’s smiling, however, it does little to calm your raging nerves. It’s been almost ten minutes since class had ended. A class that truly tested the limits of your patience. You barely managed to carve a line, your eyes were fixed on him, his hands, his arms. . . Your mind showed you one image after another, forcing you to think of the answer to questions like: how big is his cock? How fast could he make you come with just his fingers? 

Fuck, the thought alone is enough to make you weak in the knees. 

“Sorry,” you blurt out, coming closer to the desk. “Today will be the last time, promise.” 

He hums as he leans back into the chair, his legs parting. You feel another fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. “Do you know how long you’ve been taking my workshop?” 

“Uh. . . three weeks?” 

“Good,” he nods. “And can you tell me how many times I caught you just starin’ instead of doin’?” 

“A. . . reasonable amount?” 

He cocks an eyebrow, “Not a reasonable amount.” When you remain silent, simmering in your own embarrassment, he continues. “It looks like I ain’t the right teacher for you. And I care whether people learn a thing or two in my class so I wrote you down a number.” 

He rolls back a bit, opening the drawer, he picks up a card. You’re completely in shock as he stands, handing you the aforementioned card. When you look at it you see the name Tommy Miller written on it along with a phone number. 

“That’s my brother,” he explains. “He has a different approach than I do. Younger too, which may benefit you.” 

“I. . . what? Are—Are you kicking me out of your class?” 

You can’t help the quiver that accompanies your question. You’re an idiot. A huge idiot. You made him think that he’s no good in teaching which couldn’t be further from the truth. Still in shock, you stare down at the card and back up to him. He seems just as surprised as you are.

“No, no, I ain’t kickin’ you out. I just. . . I thought this would help. I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s your hands—” you finally snap, taking him by surprise. Your brain is screaming at you to shut up but you can’t. Not knowing what else to do, you cover your face with both hands, breathing heavily into your palms. Your wood carving career is over. “You just—shit—you just look so good doing what you do and it’s been so long since—well, it’s just really distracting,” you feel the card with his brother’s number slip through your fingers, he’s not saying anything. Fuck. “That’s why I was. . . distracted. It has nothing to do with you or your teaching style. You’re great.” 

You should let yourself out now. You really should. 

“You think I look good?” The quip catches you off guard and you dare to lower your hands. He’s smiling again, beaming actually, he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. You blink. 

“You really didn’t know?” 

“Nope,” he looks down sheepishly. “I ain’t good at readin’ signs and it’s been long for me too.” 

He takes a step closer, pushing you back until the edge of the desk is biting into your flesh. Your breath stutters. He cages you in, muscular arms on both sides of your hips. He tilts his head and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes at the brush of his lips. His hands toy with the zipper of your jeans. “Tell me what you were thinkin’ durin’ class and maybe I’ll give you a gold star.” 

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out, rolling your hips forward. He grins against your skin. “I. . .I thought about your hands and how they would feel like. I also thought about—” 

You cut yourself off. He prompts you to continue by lowering the zipper. “You also thought about what?” he murmurs. “Don’t be a bad girl now. I know you wanna be good for me.” 

You do. You really fucking do. 

“I thought about how big your cock might be,” you gasp. “I thought about how good it would feel to have you inside me.” 

Mr Miller takes your hand and brings it to the rather impressive bulge between his legs. Your body warms as you cup him gingerly. Despite the soft touch, his eyes still roll back. “Why don’t you tell me how big I am?” he murmurs, thrusting into your palm. Fuck, he feels huge underneath the denim. 

“Really big,” you answer, stroking him. “You’re huge Mr Miller—” 

“Joel,” he groans. “Call me Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan. “Joel. Are you going to fuck me with this big cock of yours?” 

He chuckles, “Sadly no. We can’t now but. . .” You shudder at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your chin. He pushes back your hand and swiftly tugs down your pants. “I’ll give you my fingers, sweetheart. Want to feel you creamin’ around them.” 

You tremble at his touch. Two thick fingers moving between your dripping lips, spreading them, teasing your entrance. Your breath hitches as he swirls the pads of his fingers around your clit. You melt against him, forehead falling to the front of his shoulder as he circles, circles and circles them. Your slick coats his fingers, trickles down his wrist. Those skillful hands now a mess. 

“You weren’t kiddin’,” he says into your hair. “You’re fuckin’ soaked for me.” 

“For you,” you agree, grinding your hips. “Give them to me. Please please please—” 

“Shhhhhh keep quiet or I’m gonna have to spank ya—” A wanton moan rips from your throat and you pulse, a gush of liquid drenching you both. The sounds that come out of you are obscene. “You like that huh?” 

You nod desperately. His chest trembles as he lets out a low chuckle. “So honest. ‘Guess you deserve a reward.” 

His fingers slide into you with ease, two of them sliding in and out, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit every time he plunges them deep inside. “Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, scissoring his fingers. “How are you this worked up? How the fuck are you so wet? Shit sweetheart—” 

You know. You know how wet you are. He thrusts his fingers knuckle deep, curling them, liquid heat drips down your spine, every muscle tensing with the promise of release. The sounds of him fucking you fills the workshop. The door is unlocked, you know this, there was no reason for either of you to think of locking it before. The thought of people seeing, someone watching—

Your head falls back as a whimper slips from your lips, his eyes find your own, dark with arousal. His thumb rubs at your clit. “Tell me,” he orders. 

“You have class soon,” you oblige, the thought making you clench. His brows furrow. 

“Yeah?” 

“People might see,” you add, just a hint of a teasing lilt in your voice. Your tone goes completely over Joel’s head, the tease prompting his fingers to still. Your groan in frustration, hips desperately jerking for the friction to continue.  

“You wanna stop?” 

“No, Joel. I. . .” Oh god, you can’t word it out. It’s making you flustered. “It’s kinda hot. . . that people might see.” 

“Oh,” he blinks then a second later his lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Oh.” 

And when he understands where you’re coming from—all hell breaks loose. 

Joel pushes you up the desk, nestling himself between your legs, your muscles left trembling at the stretch. He slips in another finger, fucking you thoroughly with three of them. Your jaw goes slack, your body burning from the inside out. You try to bite back the sounds but it’s hard when you’re left so exposed. It feels good—it feel amazing. You’re stammering over your words, somewhere between wanting to beg him and wanting to tell him how mind-numbingly beautiful this feels. His fingers stroke your deepest parts, applying pressure on just the right spot. 

“If you can’t handle this there’s no way you can take my cock, honey.” Your breasts feel heavy and full, nipple going hard at the gravel in his voice. You want to touch him so bad, have his cock in your mouth, worship him with your entire body. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel how good your pussy feels when you come. Fuckin’ make a mess of the desk. I’ll just fuckin’ make a new one and you can soak that one too—” 

You’re chanting his name with hushed whispers, over and over. A familiar heat and tingle settles in your stomach, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, it doesn’t take you long after that. He keeps moaning about how good you’re feeling, about how he’ll be thinking about your perfect wet pussy when the next class starts. It’s all too much. Unbearable. 

“Look at me,” he growls and you barely hear him. He slips his fingers into the knots of your hair and yanks your head back. Your eyelids flutter as you stare directly at him. He bares his teeth. “Fuckin’ come for me.” 

Your jaw drops, all care about keeping silent floating from your head as the most guttural moan rips from your throat. It’s so intense that you can physically feel yourself creaming around him, the slick at base of his finger a shade darker. “Atta girl,” he keeps saying into your mouth, over and over. You’re still coming, your insides left throbbing and raw. 

The two of you stay like that for a while. His fingers still knuckle deep, panting heavily, both your bodies glistening with sweat. His forehead falls against yours and you sigh happily, a smile touching your lips. 

You expect him to kiss you but he doesn’t, it almost feels like he’s holding himself back. Instead, he brushes your lips together, expression almost painful. 

“You got any plans for tonight?” 

You shake your head. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” 

[shycoconutt]

It seems when it comes to Nanami Kento, your body has a mind of its own.

Because here you are standing like an idiot, with a brown bag containing various warm pastries and a cup of black coffee, alone in his office in the early hours of the morning, feeling like you’ve fought and won many battles but are currently losing the war.

The war that was once your past and now, to your dismay, is your present too.

The sun has just barely peaked over the mountains, a warm orange glow cascading through the windows of Jujutsu Tech. Placing your offerings on his large wooden desk, you can’t help the exaggerated sigh that escapes your lips.

What has gotten into you.

The entire walk from your apartment, to the bakery, then to work at 8 o’clock in the morning was spent mumbling and grumbling to yourself.

Whatever happened to keeping your distance? Standing your ground? Huh? So what if today’s his birthday? So you happen to know his order at his favorite bakery across town, who cares? Huh? Hello? Are you listening to me—

You probably have a red mark on your forehead from how many times you slapped yourself on the way over here.

Truth is, you know it’s dumb, but the thought of not one person wishing Kento a happy birthday or giving him a gift today makes your stomach hurt. He only just reinstated himself as a sorcerer a couple months ago, and it’s highly likely that no one else but you remembers the importance of this summer day.

Your face warms slightly thinking about teenage Kento and that stupid party hat Satoru forced him to wear for the duration of your class singing him happy birthday. He stood there like an emotionless toothpick. It was hilarious.

Smiling to yourself, you grab a pen and a single sheet from his notepad laid out on his desk and scribble a few words before leaving it there and exiting his office.

~

“Ino,” you yell from your seat on a bench at the sparing field, “you gotta keep your fists close to your chest in a defensive position when fighting. The reason you keep getting knocked over is because you’re leaving yourself wide open.”

With your arms outstretched over the back of the bench, you lift up your head to feel the warm sun rays on your face. It is a hot one today, and you somewhat regret telling your students that you would be working on combat outside all day.

Your decision came mostly because they need the practice, but partly because you know it’s easier to avoid Kento this way.

Five hours into the day, however, you know you have to give your students a break.

“Okay everyone,” you say, clapping your hands together, “why don’t you all take an hour for lunch and then meet back here. When you get back, each of you will take turns sparing with yours truly.”

You giggle at the mix of excited gasps and disappointed groans from your students. They know you won’t go easy on them, and that only excites a select few.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Though, to make up for it, I stashed some goodies in the fridge for you guys in the rec room…”

You blinked and your students were gone, only leaving a small trail of dust in their path. Feeling content in your solitude, you go back to basking in the sun, the soft noise of running water and chirping birds lulling you into a state of relaxation.

You about jump out of your own shoes when you hear someone softly clearing their throat behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, your eyes trail up the stone steps before you lock on a broad figure standing at the top of them, slicked back honey blonde hair threatening to tousle in the strong breeze.

“May I join you?”

No. Nope. Get lost.

“Uh, sure!”

Damn it.

Scooting over to one side of the bench to make room, you nervously fidget with your hands, suddenly very interested in the state of your cuticles.

In your peripheral, you notice he’s dressed lighter than usual. Instead of the tan suit, blue long sleeve dress shirt combo, he has on a pair of brown slacks with a linen tan short sleeve dress shirt. He looks really good.

Then again, he always looks good. Ever since his return, it was no surprise to you that his everyday wear was so formal. Nanami always had an affinity towards proper aesthetics. He holds himself at a higher standard than most and always feels morally obligated to do the right thing.

But, sometimes there is no right or wrong, sometimes the right choice for you is the wrong one for someone else, sometimes the right choice is the easier choice, the one that hurts less.

As he moves to sit next to you, you feel yourself hold your breath.

“The kids flew by me on the way here practically foaming at the mouths,” Nanami muses.

“Yeah, well, I bought them some candy and snacks from 7/11 this morning cause I walked past and knew I would be putting them through the wringer today. It’s honestly the least I could do. They’ll be hurting pretty good later.”

Nanami hums all-knowingly, smirking to himself.

“If memory serves me right, there were plenty of nights back in the day where I would have to take hours-long episome salt baths just to be able to fall asleep that night after a training session with you.”

You can’t help but smile and hum in amusement.

“You never were the best at hand-to-hand. However, once you started bringing blades and shit into the mix, I did often fear for my life.”

“I would have never hurt you, you know that,” Nanami scoffs.

“Yeah,” you pause, “at least with your blade anyway.”

You feel the air still around you. Nanami now leans himself back on the bench, lifting his hands behind him to support his head.

“Hm, I suppose I deserve that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“However, what I do not deserve is your kindness,” Nanami states, staring at the field in front of him.

“Hm?”

“You bought me my favorite breakfast today, isn’t that correct?”

You turn to him now, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“And this is the most we’ve talked in a long time.”

“I suppose.”

“I half expected you to yell at me to go away.”

“I thought about it.”

Nanami smiles at this, turning to look at you for the first time, amber eyes looking down softly into yours.

“Thank you, darling. I loved it.”

The genuineness of his words swallow the world around you. You feel your heart lurch, and it’s painful.

Sitting here, so close to his form, you feel like you are two magnets. You wish you could just let go—let yourself give in. You want so badly to fly across the seat and have him absorb you. All of the empty parts of your soul are vacant because of him, and he could fill those crevices so easily, right where he once was so long ago.

You give him a sad smile, reaching your arm out, you bring the palm of your hand gently to his face, letting your thumb graze the skin of his cheek.

“You’re welcome, Kento.”

You allow yourself to touch him like this, but this is as far as you can go, at least for right now. Something you know he understands.

“Hey! Nanami is here!” Ino’s voice brings you out of your trance. You look up to see your students gathered together with all of the snacks, candy and drinks you got them in their hands. You quickly pull your hand away from Nanami so they don’t see.

You beam up at them.

“What are you guys doing back so soon?”

“Well we saw all the stuff you got us and decided it wouldn’t be right to eat all of it and not share some with you. You’re out here working hard too!”

“Aw, thanks you guys,” you smile, “Actually, you know what? This is perfect!”

Leaping up from your spot, you grab Nanami’s hand and gesture for him to stand up with you. He complies reluctantly.

“We can all share our spoils with our BIRTHDAY BOOOOOY!”

Nanami glares at you like you just told them his deepest, darkest secret. You give his hand a small squeeze before letting go, smiling up at him devilishly.

The kids are a blur as they gather around him, practically suffocating him with their enthusiasm. You watch as he battles any signs of joy as they jostle him around.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!”

[azrielbrainrot]

The Right Time

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Azriel wakes up with a massive hangover and the girl of his dreams sitting in his kitchen.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3390

Notes: This story is set immediately after Loose Lips and Big Feelings so I encourage you to read it before this one. It's also part of the band au if you're curious to know more about them. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

Azriel can feel the headache even before he opens his eyes, a groan escaping him when he slowly comes to after a strangely lucid dream. He raises up a hand to cover his face, trying to protect his eyes from any light filtering in through the blinds. It's been a while since he's gotten this drunk, ever since he and his brothers decided to take a serious chance at this band thing, performances and rehearsals taking up most of their weekends.

As a rush of broken memories carrying your voice and images of your teasing smile come back to him, he remembers the other reason he'd abstained from drinking lately. He's been patient with your feelings and trying to take things as slow as possible, not wanting to make a single mistake to ruin what he's sure could be the best thing that has ever happened to him. A drunken sloppy confession is the farthest thing from what he's been planning, and you deserve nothing but the best.

He sits up with a grunt, pausing slowly as he finds the strength to get up, his head felt like it weighed as much as whatever Cassian benches. As Azriel looks down at himself he notices he's only wearing his underwear, but a glance at where his clothes are carefully placed over the back of his desk chair tells him he wasn't the one to take them off. He runs a hand through his hair, you had been the one to take him home, that much he knows for sure, in fact the last thing he remembers was you grabbing his hand and leading him to a car with bright eyes. The image that flashes of you helping him take off his shirt has him finally get up and rush to his bathroom.

More and more memories come to him as he takes a shower and puts on his clothes, cringing softly at how the first thought in his drunk mind was to ask you to meet him, how you came to find him even though you told him you were tired and then proceded to spend the entire night babysitting him. There isn't a single memory he has from the night before where you weren't right by his side. He can't recall even half the things he told you but he remembers you listening to everything, holding his hand and smiling at him the whole time. As much as he's a little embarrassed of the situation, his heart also feels like it might beat out of his chest.

Distractedly pulling some sweatpants on after haphazardly drying his hair, Azriel grabs his phone up from his nightstand and starts walking to the kitchen while trying to see if you left him any messages, already pondering on what he should say after everything that happened the previous night. Pretending he didn't remember anything is an easy out, but he's not sure he can lie to your pretty face, or if he even wants to.

What he didn't expect in his wildest dreams was to turn the corner and look up from his phone to find you sitting at his table eating breakfast.

Azriel pauses midstep, caught completely by surprise when you look up at him with an amused expression, albeit looking a little surprised yourself. It takes him entirely too long to snap out of it and in the meantime your eyes start traveling down his body, taking note of how little clothes he's wearing while his face heats up. Since he only expected Cassian to be home, he hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. Intrigue fills your gaze as you trace every tattoo covering his torso and arms. There was something else swirling in your eyes, a certain heat that told him his tattoos weren't the only thing you were studying.

He clears his throat before speaking, subtly getting your attention back to his eyes, not sure how to deal with the weight of that heat over breakfast. “Good morning,” his throat still feels dry, making his voice come out raspier than usual. You bite your bottom lip softly before offering a shy greeting of your own as your smile returns, even if adorned with tinted cheeks at being caught staring at him.

“I hope you don't mind but I stayed in the guest room,” you start softly, pointing to the hallway as you spoke, “It was late when I finally managed to get you into bed,” you bite your lip again as if remembering the entire ordeal, trying to bite back a chuckle, “I've never seen you that drunk.”

He's glad you didn't go back home by yourself at such a late hour, and doesn't even want to think about what could have happened. A funny feeling also blooms in his chest at the thought of you deeming his house safe to stay the night in. The problem was the guest room was a mess and the idea of you not only seeing it but also sleeping there made him cringe softly once again. The room had been turned into somewhat of a storage room when he and Cassian moved in since they didn't really need it and had extra stuff to put away. The countless promises between each other to tidy it up were forgotten the longer they stayed in the apartment. The last time you'd slept over he offered his own bed for this exact reason, but he understands why you wouldn't want to sleep with him when he was that drunk.

“I don't remember the last time I was that drunk,” he confesses, tearing his eyes away from you and moving to the fridge to find some food, desperately trying to act normal when the domesticity in this whole situation threatens to send him into cardiac arrest.

Azriel had easily accepted that the two of you would stay friends until you sorted out your life and had a chance to think about your relationship. He was more than confident you liked him as much as he liked you so it wasn't too hard to do. In truth, he was also perfectly content in being your friend even if that's all you ever wanted from him. But moments like these, with you sitting on his kitchen chair, wearing one of his shirts and what he suspects is a pair of his boxers, eating your favorite cereal - the ones he made sure to add to his grocery list - out of his bowl, after everything that happened the night before, was making it really hard for him to ignore his feelings. The only thing he can think about right now is how much he wants to kiss you, maybe bring you back to bed with him so he can cuddle you and sleep off this headache in your arms.

He takes his time assembling a bowl of cereal of his own, sluggish movements not pairing well with how distracted he was. By the time he turns back around, bowl in hand, he notices how your face had changed from the beautiful amused expression you had been wearing when he came in into a conflicted one. He wasn't sure if it was his fault, but he felt this intense need to change it back around either way. And so he walks to the table and sits right next to you, giving you a smile when you look up at him with slightly wide eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You blink and recover immediately, pushing your thoughts away as if only now remembering he was right there. “I should be the one to ask you that,” your hand raises slowly, hesitating for just a moment before fixing his hair, brushing it softly away from his face, he hadn't even thought about how messy it must be, “You look a bit like shit if I'm being honest.”

He chuckles at this, though with the way you were eyeing him up earlier no one would have guessed. “I feel like shit too. I have half a mind to go back to sleep.”

“I'm actually surprised you slept through the night,” you say as you pull your hand away seemingly content with his hair for now, much to his dismay.

“We haven't really gotten to party in a while. I guess I got carried away with the celebration too,” he scratches the back of his neck and stuffs a spoon of cereal into his mouth, chewing slowly as you turn sideways in your chair, fully facing him now.

“Right, I almost forgot! Congratulations. I know you guys have been working really hard. You really deserve this. I'm sure you're going to start getting booked a lot more all over the city after this.” Your excitement makes him blush, never one to know what to say when someone praises him so openly and finding it even harder to handle coming from you. He simply nods and lets out a small thank you, but you don't seem offended, in fact your grin even widens. You already know him so well.

Silence falls between you again, notably more comfortable than before, as you seem to get lost in thought and he tries not to think about the way your knees brush his thigh, or how beautiful you look in his kitchen, sitting and talking to him while wearing his clothes, hair still messy and eyes still a bit puffy, how he wishes he got to see this every day.

You bring your elbow to rest on the table, face falling against your hand as your gaze falls back on him, making up your mind on whatever was bothering you. When you call out his name softly, he instantly turns to face you as if he was a sailor being charmed to the bottom of the ocean by his enchanting siren, and his breath almost gets knocked out of him for the nth time since he walked into this kitchen.

“Do you remember everything that happened last night?” You bring your other hand to play with the back of his chair, your eyes following your movements. He's inclined to believe it was so you didn't reach out to touch him again, he's definitely noticed how touchy you are, especially with him. You looked clearly nervous about his answer. The question is, would you be relieved if he remembered or if he didn't? Gods, he really hopes you don't regret any of what you told him the night before because there is no way he will ever be able to forget the sweet words.

“Most of it,” he admits, studying your expression intently and turning slightly so he's closer to facing you.

“And is there anything you regret saying?” So that's what it was. You had probably been scared he was too drunk to know what he was saying. The notion is actually laughable, if anything he was still holding back even as drunk as he was. He could write a whole album about you, in fact he's in the process of finishing a song he can only credit to you.

“I meant every word, princess.” You give him a shy smile in response and just as you were about to open your mouth to tell him something, his roommate decides to walk into the kitchen.

“Good morning. Didn't realize we had guests,” he sends Azriel a knowing smile, reading the room all wrong and prompting you to move away from him.

“I brought Azriel home last night and ended up staying in the guest room since it was late,” you explain, clearly catching on to Cassian's thoughts. Azriel couldn't really fault him for thinking you'd slept together since it's more than obvious to anyone that he's head over heels for you and you're currently sitting in their kitchen wearing his clothes, you have also stayed in his room a couple times before. Still, it clearly embarrassed you and he hopes the glare he sends Cassian is enough to make him swallow any further comments he might have come up with.

Cass straightens up slightly, thankfully catching on to your tone, even though there was still a twinkle in his eye Azriel had to hold himself back from wiping off his face. “That's very nice of you. Thank you for making sure our bassist got home safe,” he immediately responds in a jokingly tone, “What would we do without him?” You let out a chuckle at this.

“Maybe I should have helped you too. I heard you stumble in later into the night,” you tease. Azriel feels his entire body relax at your change in demeanor.

“I wasn't stumbling. I even opened the door on the first try.” Your giggles fill the room, clearly not believing his brother. He can't laugh himself since he can't remember how he got in and it had definitely been with your help, but he's more than aware of Cassian's lack of coordination when he gets a little drunk.

“What about Rhys and Mor? Did they make it home? I don't have their phone numbers, I thought about asking for them so they could let me know when they got home but everyone was so gone by the time I even got there.”

“I don't think Mor went to her house but she texted me earlier,” a cheeky grin spreading on his face before he continued, “Rhysie definitely got home. He brought company too.”

“Feyre?” You lean forward slightly, suddenly very interested in the gossip. Cassian nods dramatically. “Finally. They've been making eyes at each other for so long. It was bound to happen.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Azriel tenses up again, easily catching on to the parallels. Apparently so does Cassian, the range of emotions that pass by his face as he looks between Azriel and you and back again are nothing short of hilarious. Azriel would have laughed out loud if they weren't at his expense. Cassian looked almost incredulous as he looked at Azriel.

Your eyes widen as you watch Cassian, an embarrassed expression falling over your face once again. You clearly only understood how your words could be applied to your relationship with Azriel after you've said them out loud. It really was impossible not to notice but now Azriel wants nothing more than to grab Cassian by the shoulders and shake as hard as he can until his brother finds some manners and stops making you feel like this.

He almost wishes he never got out of bed. This really wasn't the type of conversation to be having in his kitchen, definitely not with the headache that still pounded at his brain or in front of Cassian. Hell, if he had been mistaken this whole time, this would be the saddest place to get his heart broken and he didn't need an audience for that. He'd have to find another apartment and roommate just to have a chance at ever forgetting your face.

“Don't you have to get ready for work?” Azriel needed to get him out of there before he could do any more damage. The look on your face was making his chest feel tight. You sat in the chair picking at the hem of your shirt, you truly looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“Yeah. I still need to shower,” Cassian caught on fast, leaving the kitchen without even saying another word. Azriel glances at you when he hears a door close in the distance, catching your eyes already searching his face. It seemed neither of you knew what to say.

You were right, Feyre and Rhys had been running circles around each other for a few weeks now, but you and Azriel had been at it for months. All the stolen glances, lingering touches, sweet words were getting harder and harder to ignore or deny. It crosses Azriel's mind that if he leaned in the already short distance between you two and kissed you, everything could be resolved in this exact kitchen, headache or no headache, but you deserve so much more and the thought sobers him up, biting his lip and dragging his eyes away from your inviting mouth.

“I should actually go too,” you whisper, noticing the change in the atmosphere. You're up on your feet before he has the chance to react, setting your empty bowl in the sink.

“You don't have to do that,” Azriel starts but you shake your head, stopping him in whatever he was going to say next.

“I do, I have assignments to finish,” you pull the shirt down a little, probably hyper aware that it was his, “I need to go change. I'll be right back.” You leave the kitchen even faster than Cassian did, not letting Azriel get any word in.

He leans back against his chair, throwing his head back and letting out a sigh. So much happened in so little time, he was having trouble even wrapping his mind around the whole situation. He can't tell if you ran back so fast because you were still embarrassed or if you're simply not ready to have this conversation. You've been getting better lately, no longer stressing so much about school and coming to terms with the fact that your best friend hurt you so much, but that doesn't mean you're ready for a relationship, especially if it could come with the possibility of losing a friend if it ended up not working out. Azriel wasn't in a rush for anything either, things between the two of you are perfect.

Still, he hopes you hadn't taken his silence earlier as him ignoring your feelings or pretending things are completely platonic between you. Even worse, he really doesn't know what to do if that look on your face wasn't only embarrassment but also disappointment. The last thing Azriel wants to happen is you thinking that he doesn't have any intention of acting on his feelings or that he's been playing around with yours.

“Azriel?” Your voice startles him out of his thoughts. He hadn't even realized you had walked back into the kitchen, covered in your own clothes this time. He gets up and sets his bowl in the sink next to yours, turning to face you.

“Sorry I was distracted.”

“That's okay, maybe you still need more rest. I was just saying I put the clothes I was wearing in the laundry basket in your room. I didn't have the chance to ask you last night but I hope you don't mind.” You sounded more like your usual self now, maybe had enough time to gather your thoughts when you were changing, but there was still an edge to your voice. It felt like you were putting on your polite voice with him, he really didn't like this.

“Anything of mine is yours, princess.” A bashful look falls over your face sending relief rushing through his body. This is the type of reaction he's used to, still he can't help but want to reassure you somehow.

Azriel grabs your hand before he has the chance to change his mind, though as you look up at him questioningly he knows he's doing the right thing. “You don't have to worry about Cassian or anyone else. We're going at our own pace and anything that happens between us is none of their business.”

You blink up at him for another few seconds, a look of understanding falling onto your face. “I wasn't worried,” you smile softly. It seems he was the one who needed the reassurance after all.

“Alright,” he squeezes your hand, his eyes dropping momentarily to your lips as is the usual these days. “Thank you for last night. You didn't even have to meet up with me, let alone babysit me all night.”

“You know you don't have to thank me for anything, Az.” You look down at his hand in yours, smile turning a bit shy. When you look up at him again, you reach up on your toes and press a soft kiss on his cheek, effectively taking his breath away. “I have to go now, but I'll call you later.” As soon as you drop his hand and move away from him, all he can think is how much he wants to pull you back into him.

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone @rose-sinclaire23

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines

Author’s Note: hey y’all! This is the start of a professor Ford AU that I’m working on. Thank you so much for being patient, and I am so excited to hear what you think about this! Sorry if some of this is inaccurate. I have not gotten my masters yet 

“Prologue” 

You sat outside Dr. Pines’ office bouncing your leg to expend the anxious energy flooding your mind. You were rearranging your manila folder of papers for the third time already. You couldn’t decide what would be the best order for him to read them in. Not like it really mattered anyways. It was just a nervous fidget to keep your mind off of the fact this was the last shot for you to get a sponsor for your Master’s research. He was finishing up a meeting with another student; you could hear pieces of his deep voice through the oak door. You hadn’t gotten to meet Dr. Pines yet. Your conversations hadn’t breached your Email inbox, but you were eager to finally have a discussion face-to-face. 

The door creaked open and a young man walked into the hallway, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. “Have a good day! I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Dr. Pines called out to him. You exhaled through your mouth and placed the folder in a binder that held laminated pictures you had taken. You stood up from the cushioned bench you were sitting on to enter his office. Any confidence you might have regained was lost when you ran face first into what could be your research mentor. Your face and arms collided with his broad chest and caused the papers kept snug in your folder to spill out onto the linoleum floor. 

“Oh good heavens, I am so sorry,” Dr. Pines apologized, bending down to pick up the scattered papers at your feet. This could not get any worse. 

“Oh, no it’s fine. I- I am sorry. I should’ve announced myself,” you replied, a furious blush spreading across your face. You had also joined him on the ground to pick up the remaining papers. 

He chuckled. “You’re quite alright. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as you both stood up. He had a small smile on his face as he handed you some lined notebook paper filled with your rushed scribble. His fingertips brushed against yours in the process. You could feel they were calloused; a sharp contrast to your soft ones. 

“Why don’t we get started,” he said, walking towards his desk. “I’m excited to hear what you have to say.” He sat down at his swivel chair and scooted forward. “I spoke with some of my colleagues from the biology department after receiving your email, and I think you have some very interesting ideas.”

You beamed at him as you began to shuffle through your belongings. “Yes, yes! I know you are a lover of cryptozoology like myself, and I wanted to speak with you about studying some creatures that I came face to face with while visiting the Appalachian Mountains earlier this year.” You handed him your binder which he immediately began to flip through. He was careful and nodded along as you continued to speak about your experiences in east Tennessee. It was nice that he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. 

You had not had that luck with other professors you had spoken with about your findings. They either didn’t care or believed it was a hoax. It was until you had checked out a book at the library about a town in Oregon written by none other than Dr. Stanford Pines that you realized he was the key to fulfilling your plans. You had never had a class with him when you were an undergraduate, so you didn’t know much about him besides the fact he was very intelligent and had six fingers. 

He’s not so bad looking either. He was wearing a light blue button-up with a brown tweed coat over it. He had thick, gray hair with a lighter silver streak and wire rimmed glasses balanced on a strong nose. He ran his hand over his stubble and raised his eyebrows towards your photos.

“This is…” Dr. Pines paused. His eyes met yours as he closed your binder. “Incredible.” Your eyes widened and you failed to suppress the ecstatic grin forming across your face. 

“T-thank you, sir,” you replied. 

He then stood up from behind his desk to sit in the chair beside you. “Y/N, this is truly remarkable. I mean,” he began to flip through your notes from the folder, “the amount of thought and organization that went into this is unlike what I've seen in other students.” He gazed at you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry my foolish colleagues didn’t see your potential, but I’m glad that I could be the one that did.”

You felt like you could cry. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” you responded shakily. “Does this mean you will be my faculty sponsor?” 

He gave you a toothy smile and got on his feet to extend a hand towards you. “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you get the answers you deserve. This summer, I am proposing we travel out to the Appalachia and take a look ourselves.” You hopped up and took his hand into yours, giving him a firm but enthusiastic handshake. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Pines. I am so grateful for this opportunity.” You started to pick up your things. “Really, I am just so excited, sir.” 

He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively at you. “No more formalities, Y/N. You can just call me Ford. We’ll be spending quite a lot of time together this summer, so I’d rather you just use my real name. It’ll be easier for both of us.” 

Your face became slightly warm and you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Sounds good, Ford,” you said, trying out the name for yourself. 

“Y-yes very well.” His voice had faltered. Was he blushing? “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re busy; I’ll be emailing you.” 

“I’ll be expecting you. Have a good day, Ford. It was nice to meet you, and thank you again for this,” you said sincerely,  placing your hand on the rickety door frame.  He grinned. “You too, Y/N. I look forward to working with you.” You gave him a little wave before walking out of his office. This was going to be the start of something wonderful.

Author's Note: There will be more but this is just setting up the story!!

[papercorgiworld]

I don't want you to be my girlfriend

Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo, Tom, Theodore and Draco

There’s a big misunderstanding concerning your future together. 

Warning: no warning, just a very fluffy fluff thingy

This was brought to you thanks to this request, but I must apologize I changed some details, but I guess the essential plot is stil there. If you spot an error that hurts your brain, let me know and save another reader. And as per usual, my darling readers happy readings! I love you all, big time!

“When we graduate things are going to change. I have big plans.” You hear your boyfriend’s voice and feel yourself get all giddy, convinced that you are part of these big plans, but suddenly you stop in your tracks. “I mean (y/n) isn’t going to be my girlfriend forever.” Next, there's silence. “Are you sure?” You hear Pansy ask and with a pounding heart you listen to your boyfriend’s answer. “Yeah. Never been so sure of anything in my life. She won’t be my girlfriend for long anymore. Things change.” 

Without making a single sound you turn down the stairs of the astronomy tower. Tears streaming down your face. You were so in love with him. All the two of you did lately was talk about your future together. When did he stop loving me? Did he ever love me at all?

The next morning you looked like crap. You looked like someone who had been crying all night, which is exactly what had happened. So you skipped breakfast and just went to class where you spent your time staring in front of you and avoiding your boyfriend’s gaze at all costs. He watched you from a few seats away. When he grew inpatient waiting for you to look at him he enchanted a little note and sent it to you, but to his horror you just looked at the folded paper laying on your desk without opening it, before returning to look at the professor. 

He truly doesn’t know how you managed to, but after class you just disappeared. He had immediately gotten up and walked towards you and yet you had somehow snuck past him through the other students. He picked up the unopened note he had sent you and felt his heart ache. First you didn’t show up at the astronomy tower last night, then you skipped breakfast and now you were obviously avoiding him. What did I do? I hate it when I don’t know what I did? Bad joke? Forgot about a date? Salazar, what if I did something so bad that she’s breaking up with me? 

He had searched every nook and cranny of the castle to find you, which was quite a lot of work, but to no avail. I don’t even know where she’s hiding? Have we somehow grown apart without me even noticing? I’m such a shit boyfriend, I’m gonna lose the love of my life.

Defeated, he walked back to the slytherin common room when one last possible hiding spot came to mind. How did I not check there earlier?

Blaise

There you sat curled up doodling in your journal, back resting against the whomping willow. “Really not the safest spot to be. The tree gets mad from time to time.” He startles you and for a moment you stare at him with wide eyes, before relaxing. As soon as you process that it’s Blaise you roll your eyes. “Oh, really? After seven years at this school I really had no clue.” Your sarcasm is almost like venom and makes Blaise’s smile disappear. In silence he joins you, sitting too close to your liking so you move an inch away and he lets his head fall back in annoyance with your childish behavior. “I have no idea what I did, but I’m sorry, I always am when I hurt you.” His voice is soft and his hand reaches for yours, keeping you from scribbling in your notebook. 

You shake your head in disbelief. How could he be sorry, when he was planning on breaking up with you. You feel tears welling up and grit your teeth in an attempt to hold them back. “When we talked about our garden together, which plants and trees we would prefer and that there needed to be a little bench… I thought you meant it. I thought you really wanted that with me.” At your words he moves a bit away from the tree to face you properly. “I do. I do want all of those things. You know that. We were just talking about our future together yesterday morning. What makes you think I wouldn’t want that with you?”

Your eyes are angry. How dare he lie like this. “I heard you last night at the astronomy tower. You want to break up with me. You had big plans and I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend anymore.” Blaise stares for a moment, before chuckling and looking away. “Unbelievable, you seriously had me worried for a moment.” All your anger subsides and confusion takes over, eyebrows knitting together. “You won’t be my girlfriend forever, (y/n), because I have other plans for you.” Blaise explains, but you still don’t catch on to what he’s hinting at. “Darling, I bought a ring.” Your eyes widen and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. “That’s what I was talking about. I showed it to everyone last night.” With shaky hands you put your notebook aside and move a little closer to your boyfriend. “An engagement ring?” Blaise nods and smiles as he adores your utterly confused face. “After we graduate, on a random date, when you don’t see it coming I’m gonna pop the question.”

Even though you were sitting in front of him he’s still surprised when you suddenly wrap your arms around his neck. “Spoiler alert, I'm gonna say yes.” You whisper all giddy and he responds by hugging you tighter than ever. Gods, I hope so, because I really love you.

Mattheo

Mattheo sighs, relieved that he’s finally found you. Sitting against the whomping willow with your knees pressed against your chest and headphones on, probably listening to the same four sad songs on repeat. He watches you from afar for a moment as he worries about what’s gotten you so upset and worse why you haven’t come to find him for consolidation yet. Even when you were angry with him you came to him to figure it out. You rarely closed yourself off for so long as you had done today and it frightened Mattheo. 

Quietly he walks over to you and as soon as you spot him you turn to look away from him, making Mattheo almost reach for his chest. He decides to lean against the tree next to you, giving you some space as you’re still sitting curled up on the ground. The silence between you two is excruciating. Soundless tears run down your cheeks as you realize that this might be the last moment between you two. As painful as the silence is, Mattheo wants to give you time to start talking, it’s only when he hears you sob that he loses his patience and immediately gets down on his knees next to you. He takes off your headphones and looks at you with soft eyes. “I beg you, please, talk to me.” His fingers brush your cheeks and you savor the moment of his touch, before speaking up.

“It’s cruel Matt, making someone believe in a future together, while you’re planning a break up. I mean who does that. Yesterday morning we were arguing about marriage or kids first and in the evening you’re telling everyone that you don’t want me to be your girlfriend.” A pathetic sob escapes you and Mattheo opens his mouth, but you cut in before he can say anything. “I still love you, you know. I still want that future with you. Did I scare you away or something?” Mattheo’s heart squeezes at your painful sobs. Scare me away? How can you think of something like that? “No, no, you could never scare me away.” Mattheo wants to hold you, but you softly push his hand away. “Then tell me, what did I do wrong? Why are we breaking up?” Mattheo stares at you in disbelief, not following at all. “We aren’t. We’re never-” 

“I heard you, Matt, last night at the astronomy tower. I heard you say that I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend for long.” Something changes in the way Mattheo looks at you, but you can’t quite capture it, he looks almost disappointed. “Wow. Definitely not how I planned it, but okay.” Mattheo says dryly, but also amused. There’s this sweet mischievous glimmer in his eyes that calms you, but also has you frowning. He searches in his pocket, obviously being enchanted, it takes him a while to find what he’s looking for and you stare at him in confusion as he makes a funny face. “Matt-” He shushes you and you study him carefully as he moves from sitting on both knees to resting on one knee, before pulling out a tiny box. 

“If it’s up to me, (y/n), you will no longer be my girlfriend, because I want you to marry me.” You quickly shake your head and sit up a bit straighter to check if you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. Slowly, his free hand reaches to open the flannel ring box. “So (y/n) (y/l/n), will you marry me?” Your mouth opens as you stare at the ring, before looking at Mattheo whose smile is filled with love. You nod, ignoring the elegant and shiny ring, you lunge towards him and he wraps his arms around you. He quickly closes the box to keep the ring safe, before kissing you passionately. When you break apart, your foreheads rest against each other. “The answer’s yes by the way.” You whisper with flustered eyes. Mattheo licks his lip, smirking at the beautiful fiance in his arms. “I assumed that much.” He said, eyes shining with happiness. “But, dear future wife, don’t you ever assume silly things again, like maybe me dumping you. Never going to happen, understand?” Sheepishly you chew your lip, embarrassed with your own dramatics. When you nod, his smile grows brighter and leans in for another passionate kiss. 

Enzo

As soon as Lorenzo spotted you, he came running towards the whomping willow, though carefully watching the tree so as not to get attacked by it. You were just laying on the ground staring up at the sky and the tree, but you knew Enzo was coming your way. You had been together for so long you could hear it was him just by his footsteps. You took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the weight on your chest, knowing that your relationship would all be over soon. With a happy smile Enzo’s face comes into your view as he stands next to you looking down at you. “Found you.” He quips rather proud of himself and you snort. Joking before breaking up that’s just rude. Did our relationship really mean nothing?

When Lorenzo notices your displeasure with his presence he kneels down next to you. “Everything alright?” He asks with a soft, worried voice as he scans your face for any hints. You chew your lip for a moment before sitting up, eyes wandering around, avoiding Enzo. “I really looked forward to it.” Enzo frowns and sits down next to you, his arm brushing yours. Before he can ask for an explanation, you continue. “Cooking together every evening. Going to bed together. Waking up and arguing in the bathroom, but making up at the breakfast table. You were going to make that boring adult everyday routine fun, you would make everyday worth it.” Lorenzo drops his head, looking down. She’s breaking up with. He heard you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing and looked back up.

He wasn’t just gonna let you break up with him. He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you towards him, now your teary eyes were forced to meet his. “Darling, whatever dumb thing I did, I love you too much to have done it on purpose, so please just talk to me.” You narrow your eyes at him, confused by what he was saying. You sniffle and he wraps an arm around your head pulling towards him, forcing you to rest on his shoulder for a moment. “Please, don’t break up with me.” Your boyfriend whispers, before placing a soft kiss on your temple. You pull away and look at him. “I don’t want to break up with you, you’re the one that’s done with our relationship.” Enzo’s eyes widen and his mouth drops a bit. “Wha- why? Why would you say something so ridiculous!” He sounds almost angry with you for suggesting something so outrageous. 

You frown and bite back. “Don’t play dumb, Berkshire! I heard you last night at the astronomy tower talking to all your friends and Pansy, who’s my friend by the way, about how I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend for long anymore. Hah!” You point at him, thinking you’ve cornered him, figured out all his lies, but he doesn’t look impressed at all. “Oh right, right… but tell me, darling, if I’m planning on breaking up with you then… uhm, why did I spend a ridiculous amount of money on an engagement ring?” With one swift move he presents you a small velvet ring box and judges you, before quickly tucking it back into his pocket. Your mouth just hangs agape as you watch him put the ring box away. “Miss I-have-it-all-figured-out, do you have any other crazy assumptions? Maybe you think I bought that for one of my other girlfriends-” You give him a soft push and he smiles at your flustered face.

“Break up with you? Have you lost it? Gods, I’m marrying an idiot.” Lorenzo laughs and pulls you onto his lap. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Enzo bought an engagement ring. “Marrying an idiot? Enz, I haven’t said yes.” You say, attempting to sound composed and he grins at you. “That’s because you haven’t seen the ring, yet.” You snake an arm around his neck. “So show me.” You brush your nose against his and he smirks, happy that you're eager to see the ring and say yes. Enzo steals a tender kiss from you before moving his lips to your ear. “I don’t think so.” You look at him with curious eyes and he explains himself. “I have this whole thing planned and it’s already bad enough that you know I’m going to propose. I don’t need you knowing about anything else I have in store for you.” Merlin, I love him. Desperately your lips crash into his, passionately kissing your future husband as he holds you tight.

Tom

He studies you from afar as you focus on your journal. He adores your elegant figure, small against the great whomping willow. He approaches you with a featherlight step and you don’t notice him until he speaks up with a serious tone. “You had me worried. Disappearing for a whole day.” Your heart jumps as his sudden presence startles you and you quickly close your journal. When you look up he notices your exhausted eyes and crouches down to your level. His fingers brushing your jawline before grabbing a hold of your chin as you try to turn away from him. With a firm grip he forces you to meet his eyes. “Have you been crying, dear?” Your eyes go dead at his question. “Don’t pretend to care. I know you’re breaking up with me.”

Your voice is cold and your words catch him off guard, dropping his hand and studying your face. “When we talked about traveling the world, I thought it was going to be you and me. Searching for the boundaries of magic, you and me… always.” His face goes cold as tears visually well up in your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me. I don’t understand. I thought we were happy.” Now you can no longer hold your tears back, instantly your hands cover your face and Tom grits his teeth at the sound of your sobbing. “Enough.” He says sternly, grabbing your hands and making you look at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your silly little head, but I’m not breaking up with you, not now, not ever!” 

He can spot a glimmer of hope in your eyes at his words and he sighs. “Quite to the contrary, actually. I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with you and I want to make it official.” You swallow and shake your head a little as you remember last night's words. “But- but I heard you talk yesterday evening… you said I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend forever.” Tom’s lips form a line and he cups your face, thumbs brushing over the stains of your tears. “You should know better than to eavesdrop. You missed out on a bit of context.” Your eyebrows knit together. “You’re not breaking up with me?” With a soft smile he shakes no. “I missed out on the context?” Tom nods and you feel yourself relax. “Okay.” You whisper and you lean towards Tom so he can embrace you. With your head pressed against his chest you wonder. “I don’t get it, what context?” Tom smiles to himself. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He pulls away a little so he can place a tender kiss on your soft lips. I can’t believe she almost found out about the proposal. If she had seen the ring last night the surprise would’ve been ruined. 

Theodore

You were trying to focus on the book in your hands, but you had to reread every sentence twice, because your mind kept going to Theodore’s words. Frustrated with your incapacity to read, you sigh and look around taking in your surroundings, it’s then that you spot Theo slowly walking in your direction. “Here it goes.” You mutter to yourself as you mentally prepare yourself for a painful break up. “Where have you been all day?” Theo asks, noticing you looking at him. You shrug, not in the mood for small talk. “Here.” You say dryly and Theodore’s tongue darts around in his mouth as he tries to figure out what’s going on. “Why did you ignore my note?” You look away from him. Can’t he just cut to the chase. 

Again you shrug, eyes still staring into the distance. Theodore raises his eyebrows, a little annoyed by your attitude. “Okay, princess. I’ll play.” He goes to sit opposite of you, giving you all his attention, but you snap your head towards him at his words. “You are unbelievable, Theodore Nott!” Your loud voice makes Theo clench his jaw. “Right back at ya, sweetie.” He’s annoyed, but he tries to stay calm, seeing how upset you are. “Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, Nott.” You snare. “I know you’re here to break up with me. I heard you talking at the astronomy tower last night. I know about your big plans that don’t involve a girlfriend. So you can scurry off now. I’ll be fine.” Theo opens his mouth before closing it again and chuckling softly. You frown. “This isn’t funny.” You say, clearly hurt by his lack of emotion. You reach for your book to hit it against his arm, but your boyfriend ceases the opportunity to grab your wrist and pull you closer to him, much to your dislike. 

“It’s funny, trust me.” He whispers, chuckling as he closes the space between you two. “I’m not gonna scurry off, princess, and I’m not breaking up with your dumb ass.” You try to pull your wrist free. “I heard you say-” Theo snakes an arm around your waist to keep you close, before interrupting you. “You heard what exactly?” You fall silent and look up at him with watery eyes. “Because I’m not breaking up with you, I love you a little too much and I’ve invested a bit too much money in an engagement ring. So you and I, we’re not breaking up any time soon.” The sadness in your eyes is replaced by surprise. “Engagement ring?” You whisper barely audible and Theo nods softly, eyes focused on yours. “So did you maybe hear me say something like : she’s not going to be my girlfriend for long?” He leans closer to you, eyes moving between your lips and your eyes. “Because you’re not going to be my girlfriend for long, since you’ll be my fiance soon and then-” Your lips crash on his and his hand moves to your head as he kisses you back passionately. “I’m an idiot.” You whisper between kisses, only making him kiss you harder. “Yeah, you are. You’re lucky you’re cute.” You frown and he chuckles. “I love you.” 

Draco

With closed eyes you enjoy the sounds of nature around you. “Hey!” You recognize your boyfriend’s voice and turn to see him walk up to you with his usual flair, though carefully watching the whomping willow afraid of what it might do. You turn away from him, not ready to face him after hearing him talk about breaking up with you last night. “What’s got you hiding out here?” He watches you with crossed arms and you chew your lip, fingers playing with the grass by your side. You were rarely this distance and he gets more worried. He decides to sit down next to you. “If something’s wrong you can tell me.” You’re surprised by the softness of his voice and turn to him. His heart breaks a little when he notices your puffy eyes, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to tell him what’s going on.

“I feel stupid, Draco.” You confess and he frowns at you, before you continue. “I- I just thought that when we lay in bed discussing the interior of our mansion that- I guess I believed that you really wanted that. You really had me believing you wanted that future with me.” Your boyfriend’s face goes paler than it usually is, but you don’t notice the horror in his eyes. “I respect your choice and I won’t make any drama, but I want you to know that I really wanted that… a future for just the two of us.” With those words you get up, feeling tears well up. “What?” Draco almost yells as he instantly gets up after you. “You can’t break up with me.” He grabs your hand and you look at him, confused at his words. “I’m not breaking up with you, you are breaking up with me.” Your explanation almost hurts Draco’s brain as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying. “No. No. Why would I break up with you?”

You press your lips into a line as you now notice how utterly confused he is. Your eyes rest on his hand holding onto yours, he didn’t want you to go anywhere. You look up at him, frowning. “But I heard you… last night… you said that- that I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend forever. Pansy asked if you were sure and you said yes. I clearly heard you say that.” Draco seems to relax at your words and a soft smile creeps up his lips. “Oh, love.” He lets go of your hand, before taking a step closer so there’s only an inch between you two and slings his arms around you, hugging you as he softly chuckles. “I’m not breaking up with you.” The calmness in his voice convinces you of his sincerity and you feel all the pain and tension leave your heart, making you blink away soft tears of joy.

You enjoy his warmth and hug him back, but after a moment your mind goes back to last night. “But then, what were you talking about?” You move away from him as you feel a bit of doubt make its way back to your heart. Draco tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and adores you with the sweetest smile on his lips. “You won’t be my girlfriend for long because I intend on marrying you.” Your eyes widen and you feel the purest form of happiness rush through you. “Marry me?” You whisper in surprise, not really believing what you had just heard. “Yes and I’m sure of it.” An intense blush forms on your cheeks and your eyes get sparkly as a soft laugh of joy leaves your lips. “I love you, Draco Malfoy.” He kisses tenderly, before locking his eyes with your and wiggling his eyebrows. “I love you too, future Mrs Malfoy.” You laugh and bite your lip. “I like that.” Draco pulls you closer, happy to hear your approval. You break a passionate kiss when your mind starts wondering again. “When are you asking?” You ask with a cheeky smile and Draco scoffs at your question. “I’m not telling. It’s already bad enough you know that I’m gonna ask.” 

[tainted-liquor]

'Basketball Wife'

"Back the fuck up, thank you." - Miles G. Morales Earth42!Miles Morales x Booksmart!Reader TWs: Cursing, n I think that's it Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! W/C: 980? A/N: This was another request that I rlly loved working on! Enjoy luvs ꨄ

You and your boyfriend, Miles, had been dating for around 10 months or so. He didn't have the best reputation with the faculty, skipping out on certain classes, having the lowest participation score out of most of the students, and overall wasn't a very happy camper. It's not like his grades were bad, oh hell no! He just wasn't a very optimistic person and opted to fade into the background of most people's lives. Which for some reason had the opposite effect, inducing random girls and, very very rarely, boys to throw themselves at him just to say 'I know Miles.'

Now when he decided to join his school's basketball team, shit only got worse for him. He used to eat his food in the lunch room until a pool of girls decided to sit near him in an attempt to snatch his attention. This obviously pissed Miles off even more, pushing him further back into the shadows and closing himself off even more from the people around him. So he decided to eat in the library. It was empty for the most part, with about 5 students eating together and talking, one of them being you. There you sat with your group of girls, chatting away about random topics, ignoring the rather aggressive slam of the library door. For you, it was just another lunch before you went back to your classes.

As you skipped to your 5th-period class, you parted ways with your friend Kayla as you prepared to be assigned the 2-person project your teacher had gone over yesterday. You obviously weren't a fan of work, but you were excited regardless to choose your partner. So when class got started and the teacher announced he would be ASSIGNING your partners? Honey, you were pissed off. The class erupted full of irritated groans and 'Oh my god's as he listed off the names, choosing the oddest combos you'd ever heard in your life. He called your name, and then Miles as you rolled your eyes slightly. Really, you wanted to be with your best friend Amai, but you didn't have much of a choice, did you?

When the teacher finished reading off the list of pairs, everyone scattered across the room to sit next to their partner. So you moved accordingly, scooting your desk over to Miles's with a couple of noisy scrapes. He wasn't exactly rude, just didn't really seem interested. You really didn't feel like explaining what you wanted to do to someone who wasn't listening, so you just decided to compromise.

"Look, we don't have to talk at all, but at least come find me today so we can work on this project. We don't even have to speak, just correct something or write notes on the slides."

So you met every day for the next 2 weeks in the library, with Miles gradually warming up to you as you spent more time together. He went from saying 2-3 words a day to you to having full-fledged debates on random topics. Even when the project was over, he still hung around. Inviting you to watch him practice for his games, putting you on his cfs story on insta, and stationing you in the front row every time he had a basketball game without fail. So it wasn't necessarily a surprise when he asked you out.

You snuck around together for the next 10 months, not really wanting to deal with questions about each other. You had grades to keep up, and he didn't want to attract any attention. Spending minimal time together during school hours but hanging out in Miles's dorm or his house after hours, spending countless nights in each other's arms. He asked you to come to yet another one of his basketball games, to which you happily agreed to make an appearance.

You sat on the benches as you silently cheered for Miles, giving him discreet little heart signs and blowing tiny kisses in his direction every now and again. He winked at you, and no sooner than he did you heard a girl behind you begin to blab on.

"Bitch he winked at me! Oh my god!"

You felt a vein in your temple tense, exercising all of the strength in your body to not turn around. She stepped down a row, sitting slightly close to you as you watched her wave frantically, which Miles ignored. The game went on for about another 45 minutes, with Home scoring the winning shot. The court erupted with loud cheering, you had that same amount of school pride as you yelled along with the crowd. As the team celebrated in the middle of the court, a few players walked over to whoever was important to them in the crowd fixed on the benches.

Miles made a quick glance at you before briefly nodding backward, indicating for him to follow him to the back like you would usually do. Just as you were getting your stuff ready, that dumb bimbo quickly hopped up to grab at his arm. He wasted absolutely zero time in pushing her off, giving her a rather stern "I have a girlfriend. Back the fuck up, thank you." with a grimace that said nothing but pure disgust. He jogged up to you, pulling you from the front of the bleachers and pulling you into a deep kiss. A couple people perked up at the action, watching as two people who seemingly didn't even know each other casually kissed in the middle of the court.

Bitches were mad that day, their delusions coming to a very sharp halt as the reality of Miles's girlfriend smacked them like a backhand from Floyd Mayweather. But you didn't give a single fuck as Miles cooed a gentle "I love you, mi amor." Into your ear. You knew who he preferred over everyone in the school; that mattered to you.

[lunajay33]

Forbidden💋

Summary: You craved your gym teacher, you’ve always wanted more with him than just your favorite teacher and he knew it

Pairing: Coach Negan x f!reader student(18)

Warning: 18+

•Masterlist•

Song suggestion: As Soon as the Good Times Roll- Scorpions

I loved gym not because of the easy grade or anything, more because the teacher was drop dead gorgeous and everything I craved, he’d go around with these basketball short and baseball hat and tight black shirt and it just made my body tingle, he’s my favorite teacher I go to him whenever I have problems and he’s always there to help but along the way I wanted more than just teacher student I want him to just throw me over his desk and take me but there’s one probably, well other than him being my teacher…..I’m a virgin, reminding me today in gym when it was sex Ed, our annual class that was taught for a day instead of usual gym activities

“Okay class settle down, it’s sex Ed today” everyone groans and some laugh mostly the girls and boys that flaunt their sex lives out in the open like everyone should know

“I know nobody wants to talk about this with there teacher but it’s the rules” the class went on like usual telling us to use protection to be safe, the risks and everything and now it’s question time

“Any questions?”

“Sir does it hurt” I ask then everyone erupts in laughter, I feel the blood rush to my face

“Oh my god, you’re a virgin what a loser” one of the preppy girls says and I can feel my lip tremble trying to keep the tears at bay

“That’s enough, Ashley detention, everyone else class is dismissed” everyone filters to the change rooms and I take more time being the last one in there, I sigh sitting down on the bench after changing, this was going to be the talk of the school, like I didn’t have enough stress with school anyways, I leave the change room when Mr. Smith stops me

“Hey kid come to my office” I follow him anxiously sitting in the chair across from his desk he closes the door and locks it then sitting behind his desk

“You okay?” He asks looking me up and down

“I shouldn’t have asked that I’m sorry”

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry about it was a normal question”

“I was just curious and now I’m completely embarrassed, everyone thinks I’m a loser for being a virgin”

“Nothing to be ashamed of darlin, but since we’re alone do you have any other questions?” He asks leaning against his desk

“Umm….im not sure I really don’t know anything about this stuff, I’ve never done anything so I don’t know what it feels like”

“Oh I think you know a thing or two, when you look at someone and your eyes wonder lower, your body gets hot and you clench your legs together to ease the ache” his voice gets deeper and my eyes are blown wide with shock

“Mr.Smith what’re you talking about” I feel on fire right now but he wasn’t completely wrong about what he said, it’s hard to keep my eyes off him in gym

“I think we’re well past Mr.Smith, Negan is fine love, I’ve seen you look at me in class, your eyes drift lower until you’re starring right at my dick” he states walking around the desk leaning back on it infront of me

“W..what no of course not you’re my teacher”

“Come on baby, don’t lie we both know you can’t lie to me” he smirks kneeling infront of me placing his hands on my thighs, i sigh knowing he was right he’s always been able to get the truth out of me

“Fine, was it that obvious?” Now I’m embarrassed for a different reason

“Only to me, I’ve had my eye on you, always such a good girl”

“Negan can you…..can you show me how it feels?” Holding my breath until he answered

“You sure that’s what you want Angel?”

“Please I can’t wait any longer I need you” I say as I clench my legs together

“Good girl” he picked me up with ease laying me back down on the desk knocking over pencils and pens, he wrapped my legs around his waist his bulge pushing against my pussy

His fingers playing with the hem of my pants

“You ready?” I nodded frantically

He undid the button pulling my pants and panties off in one pull, my pussy now bare to him, I covered myself with my hand feeling insecure, no one’s ever seen me like this let alone a drop dead gorgeous man

He grabbed my hand pushing it back onto the desk just admiring me, it feels like his eyes are burning fire through me

“Look at this pretty pussy, so wet just for me” I feel his fingers push through my folds circling around my clit making me gasp at a sudden shock running through me

Pulling his shorts down letting his dick free, slapping it against my clit

“Negan please I need it” I whined feeling the pressure of him pushing in finally feeling it pop, that painful but pleasuring feeling coursed through me making me grind down on him just wanting more

“Fuck baby so tight, you alright?” He asked gripping my hips harder

“Yes god please more” I reach up holding his bicep for leverage as he slides in more until he’s flush against me leaning down so our lips are brushing against eachother, sitting in the feeling for a moment of him completely sheathed inside me

“God you do things to me sweetheart, imma show you how a real man fucks” he started off slowly until his thrusts were deep and hard hitting that sweet spot over and over my vision going spotty

“Oh Negan right there!” I dig my nails into his arm not knowing what to do with all this pleasure it was almost too much but god was he good

“You like that baby, you take me so well, so tight around my dick” his words pushed me over the edge about to scream when his hand clamps over my mouth as my body is racked with white hot pleasure feeling liquid drip down my legs

“Fuck fuck” I hear him groan when he pulls out and cums all over my pussy mixing with my release

“Look at you, so pretty and just for me hot damn” his thumb drags through my folds mixing his cum against my sensitive clit making me shake, leaning up on my arms to watch him do it

“How was that for your first time baby?”

“I……I think I wanna do it again” all he does is smirk

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that we’ll be doing this a lot more often now that you’re mine”

[cheriladycl01]

Paparazzi - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader

Plot: you are a university student in the UK, and the Paparazzi manage to find out where you go and stalk you due to rumors surfacing about.

It was a pretty shit day at university for you, you were a third year law student who had just come back from an amazing placement with Mercedes as part of their legal counsel.

You'd had so much fun and had worked really closely with Lewis and George. It also was the first year that you were able to travel from the last half of one season, to the 3/4 of the next season.

He was a driver for McLaren, his job and you being a student meant that you guys didn't see each other as much as you'd like.

You had been dating for the good part of 4 years now having met in secondary school and stayed as friends even when he left the school. When you started on your A-levels and he was progressing in his driving career he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Now he was in Formula One and you were about to be graduating university. It had however been difficult, the transition of being with Lando pretty much everyday, and now not seeing him was killing you.

It had taken a tole on you, you had dark circles under your eyes, your nose was red from the cold. Your class hadn't been great either and tears were starting to brim your eyes. You just wanted to get home and cry it out in private.

Lando: Hey Babe, its Thursday so media day today and McLaren are busy! Call me later, love you lots!

The text made more tears brim in your eyes until you heard the snap of a camera. Next you saw the flash.

Your eyes dart up seeing the 5 or 6 people with cameras behind you, following you. You pick up your pace, going towards your specific building on campus where you could hide out with your personal tutor until they left you alone.

You walk into the building into a flurry of students walking around the building pulling the hood of Lando's hoodie up. You make your way to a back stairwell that was quieter than the main one and made your way up the 5 flights of stairs to where your personal tutors room was.

"Michael?" you ask entering the room, nobody was there so you sat on the small little sofa he had at the side of his office. You pull the work bench closer to you, placing your laptop and book down before getting on with some work for your Intellectual Property Module.

Minutes later Michael comes in, a shocked look on his face as he observes you.

"Y/N what are you doing here?" he asks walking past you and taking a seat at his desk, sipping from the takeaway coffee he had just brought.

"I had Paps come onto campus again. And i've had a bit of a shit day" you mumble looking at the email from Lewis asking you to do some research for him if you had any free time.

"Well, you know my door is always open for you"

"That's why i let myself in" you grin at him, already feeling better. He spoke to you for about an hour, while he was doing his own research and marking behind his computer.

"I think its safe to say they've left now" he admits engrossed in something on his computer.

"How'd you know?"

"There's articles already up, some of these headlines. Oh lord they are ridiculous" Michael admits scrolling down on his mouse wheel looking further.

"Huh?" you ask before looking online under your name.

Lando Norris Girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, Seen Crying On University Campus After Breakup Report Y/N Y/L/N Seen On Campus Crying Is There Tension Between Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N On Her First Absent Race Of The Season Lando Norris Cheats On Girlfriend - Her Reaction Is Heartbreaking!

"I'm just going to go home. I don't have the energy to read any of these. Thank you for letting me stay" you admit, packing up your bag and nodding in a goodbye to your personal tutor.

As you exit the building and make your way to the carpark where your Mercedes-AMG SL 63 sat, courtesy of your time at Mercedes for the last year. You now still work for them, but from the Brackley and part-time around your degree.

You get in and let out a long sigh, you pull away getting onto the road driving back to yours and Lando's apartment which was about a 30 minute drive away.

Lando started to call you, the ringtone blaring through the car speakers that your phone was connected to. You hit accept on the screen, your eyes only momentarily wavering from the road.

"Y/N baby, what's up. The articles and the photos of you! You look so sad, what's going on?" he immediately starts grilling you like you'd expected him to when he would eventually see the articles.

"Sorry, I'm in the car right now! I just had a shitty say at uni and i really fucking miss you" you breathe out happy to finally admit it. It was the end of October now and you'd been back at university for a month.

"I know baby, you still planning to come out for the last race, in Abu Dhabi?" he offers, it sounds like he's busy and like he's walking around the McLaren garage. He did say it was media day...

"Erm, ill let you go. Its like midnight there and you have a big day with practice tomorrow" you say, he starts to stay something but you interrupt before he can.

"I love you, goodnight" you say to prompt him.

"Goodnight, ill see you soon" he sighs, he also sounded tired just like you.

You drove the rest of the way home, pulling up in the underground carpark and just sitting there for a few minutes taking in some breaths.

You eventually get out the car and head into yours and Lando's apartment. The apartment was always clean because either you were here or your parents were kind enough to house sit while you and Lando were away.

You did your normal routine for when Lando wasn't here, which was go to the gym, go back and shower, cook food eat food and go to sleep.

You never really had any motivation for anything when he wasn't around.

The next day was a free day from uni, you went to the Mercedes team, everyone could tell that something was up with you. They chose not to say anything and just let you get through your shift. You'd had a cute Good morning text from Lando, asking if you'd slept well and if you'd eaten.

You'd replied, saying yes to both and that you were just catching up on his free practices and that he had really good times, as you'd expected.

But part of you just longed for him to come home.

[schoenpepper]

All Sorts of Love

Intro: Kalim hasn't felt this kind of love before.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, yandere, one google translated arab word

A/N: For that one anon I hope you like this because I have spiralled into "what kind of yandere would Kalim be" and boyyyy I tried. I don't like the ending too much though. But honestly I feel like even if he was yandere he'd still turn to Jamil, right? They're like overly codependent. Also had way too much fun with the colors.

Masterlist

Kalim knows what love is.

Growing up, he'd been surrounded by a lot—maybe too much of it. From his parents to his siblings, he was spoiled, adored, and loved. He used all that love and poured it into himself like a valve, letting it flow right back to the world from within his body. He loves the sun, the sky, and his family; he loves his friends, the sea, and the wind as it ruffles his hair when he's on a magic carpet ride. He loves you.

Because you're his friend too.

He looks at the page in his notebook. One hour into Trein's lecture, and it's void of actual notes—only your name, little chibi doodles of you, and little hearts surrounding everything. He thinks you're so cute. He's glad that you two are friends and that you're so close with him. He has lots of friends, but you're different. Because you're best friends, like Jamil!

(Jamil denies it sometimes, but he doesn't mind. Jamil is still the closest person to him, even after the whole inky disaster.)

The bell rings, and he sweeps everything from his desk right into his bag. Jamil has basketball practice today, so hey, maybe he can hang out with you! You like hanging out with him, right? A happy tune is on his lips as he walks out of the classroom, his feet leading him towards the first years' classes. Your dismissal for this class was about thirty minutes later than his own, so he sits down on a bench and sways his feet, waiting patiently.

(He memorized your schedule so you guys can hang out more!)

He can't do much while waiting, except for playing on his phone. He sees a picture you'd posted on Magicam yesterday and clicks the like button—it's of the two of you, so he comments with a 'WE LOOK SO GOOODDDD' and saves the image, using it as his screen wallpaper. The background was the amusement park he'd begged you to go to with him, cotton candy swirls in your hands as you stood together with happy smiles. Jamil took the photo, which is great! Because for some reason, even though the two of you are his best friends, he doesn't like the thought of Jamil standing next to you or doing as he did in the picture and feeding you a piece of his cotton candy. Just thinking about it made him upset. He doesn't like feeling upset, so he doesn't want to think about it anymore.

The bell rings, and the freshmen pour out of their classrooms like a swarm of insects. Several Scarabia first-year students greet him, and he smiles in turn, while his ruby-red eyes scan the crowd for your figure.

Too short, too tall, wrong hair color, wrong hair texture—ah!

It's you.

"Y/N!" Kalim all but runs over to you with the widest smile on his face, almost bowling you over to the ground with his hug.

"Kalim!" You smile back just as happily, ignoring Grim, who'd fallen to the ground from your shoulder. Kalim beams brighter when he feels your arms wrap back around him, and he stays still until Ace speaks up.

"Uh, are you guys gonna keep hugging, or can we get going?"

"Right! Y/N, come with me, okay? I wanna show you something." He knows you'll fall for his wide, pleading eyes when he asks the question. As expected, you only nod and follow him, leaving Grim with the two Heartslabyul boys with promises of tuna when you pick him up later.

Kalim holds your hand the whole time as he pulls you back to Scarabia. He listens to how your day went with all 110% of his attention span, letting you finish your story before opening the storage room door. "Huh? What are we doing here, Kalim?" He giggles and runs with you over to one corner. He doesn't like that he has to let go of your hand, but he dives headfirst into the mountain of gold to try and find the thing he's looking for. He pulls a small box out of the pile and collapses to the floor, out of breath. "Uh, are you okay?" You ask, barely holding back your laughter.

"I'm okay!"

He loves seeing you laugh. He thinks you shouldn't hide it.

"So what did you want to show me?"

He stands back up and opens the box. Inside is a gold bracelet with little heart-shaped rubies, the same color as his eyes. "This! I just remembered that my parents sent it with me when I got into NRC. It was my jida's. Do you like it?"

You smile and admire the bracelet.

But you never touch it.

"It's gorgeous, Kalim."

"Great!" He fumbles a little bit as he takes it out of the box, gesturing for your hand. "I'll put it on for you!"

"What? No, I can't accept that, Kalim."

"Please! They told me to give it to an important person, and you're very important to me," he insists. You look at him hesitantly, but still refuse. "That's different, I don't think they mean that kind of important, Kalim."

"Y/N...am I not important to you?"

Finally, finally, you waver and fold. You let him put the bracelet on you. He can't help himself; he intertwines your fingers with his own as he admires the way it sits on your wrist. He can almost imagine the way his own grandmother had worn it in the past. She must've looked beautiful, but he thinks no one could ever compare to you. You two sit down on some random carpet in the store room as he continues to appreciate how it shines on your skin, his thumb subconsciously rubbing circles on your hand. When he looks back at your face to say something, he freezes for a few seconds. 

You're looking at him so...adoringly.

Eyes soft and sweet, like honey is swirling within your irises. Your lips are slightly parted, as if you're hesitating to say something, and your grip on his hand is tightening. He watches you take a deep breath and speak.

"Kalim," you say his name like it's nothing he's ever heard before. "I like you, as more than a friend. No, Kalim, I love you."

And for once, he doesn't know how to respond to this love.

For all the love given to him by his parents, his ancestors, his siblings, his cousins, his human friends, his animal friends—none of it had prepared him to be loved by you, no, not like this. He loves you. But... as a friend.

Right.

Because loving you like that, what would it mean? Would it let you spend more time together or less? Would you smile at him or fight with him more? What does that kind of love entail?

He likes your friendship.

So, "Can't we just stay friends?"

He sees your heart crack from the way you look at him, how you pull away, and how you immediately unclasp the bracelet and put it back in his hands. There are tears streaming down your face and leaving trails down your cheeks as you speak, and your voice is so shaky that he feels so bad for what he said. But he can't take it back. "Okay, I'm, I'm so sorry." You stammer out through choked sobs as you stand up and start to walk away.

"Hey, Y/N!" He tries to go after you, but you break out into a full run before he can do anything.

Maybe he should leave you alone for a while. With all the thoughts in his mind that he can't make sense of at the moment, maybe he needs that alone time just as much as you do.

He sighs.

First Jamil, now you.

(Since when has friendship been so hard?)

The 'alone time' takes at least three days.

By the fourth day, Kalim is ready to be your friend again. He can't handle the awkward glances or seeing your teary eyes just the day after the incident, but he can't leave you forever! You're his best friend, and he wouldn't lose you over this. He'd thought that after giving you some space, you would bounce right back and maybe go on a magic carpet ride with him again.

So...why are you still avoiding him...?

He'd lost sleep over the past three days, lost focus. Jamil had been on his tail about homework and projects. But he's so distracted. Where are you? What are you doing? Are you okay now?

Do you still love him?

He walks over to your cafeteria table, where you're seated with your friends. "Y/N!" He's blocked by a very angry Grim, hissing and all fur standing on end. He's so confused when Ace and Deuce try to get him to leave, when Epel is glaring at him, when Jack is hiding you behind his muscled figure, when Ortho is just quietly scanning him, a strange red laser pointing to his forehead, or when Sebek is yelling at him that you don't want him around.

Do you really...not want him around?

He's pulled away by Jamil when Ortho's eyes start glowing red.

Why are you avoiding him why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why

He doesn't like it when you avoid him.

Don't avoid him, please.

You're taking longer, more inconvenient routes, if only to steer clear of the path he takes. Your friends guard around you in the cafeteria, and days turn to weeks, and Kalim is...okay.

He's okay.

(Jamil finds him sobbing in his sheets in the middle of the night, crying out your name.)

He's okay when he sees you gradually brightening up again. He's okay when he finds you're slowly talking to him again, but not treating him like a friend. He's super okay and totally fine when he sees you spending more and more of your time with Deuce alone, just the two of you. And he's great when he notices the boy's blushing, awkward movements, similar to what you used to do in Kalim's presence.

Come back to him please Y/N please please please come back why won't you come back he's your best friend right why won't you come back Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N

"Do you like Y/N?"

Kalim's feet are swinging off the edge of the balcony as he leans back on his arms. His gaze stays on the fountain in the middle of the dormitory, clearly lost in thought, before being brought back by Jamil's question. He doesn't need to think twice about his answer. "Of course! They're my best friend too, so it's a little upsetting that they're not hanging out with me anymore."

"No." Jamil rolls his eyes. "More than a friend."

"I don't think so."

"Really?"

Kalim nods.

(It's okay that he wants to be your best friend, your only friend, right?)

"Kalim, let's get this straight, okay? I don't want to see you sulking anymore. You're in love with Y/N." Jamil puts both hands on Kalim's shoulders, stooping a little lower to look him in the eye. "Do you want to be with Y/N all the time? Do you want to touch them? Kiss them, maybe? Do you feel annoyed when you see them with other people? Do you hate the thought of a future without them by your side, like you can't even stand it? Kalim, yes or no, are you in love with Y/N?"

Kalim feels like he's just been dunked in a vat of ice water.

"I love them that way?" he asks softly.

Jamil shakes him lightly. "Imagine you saw Deuce kissing the—"

Oh. Okay. So he loves you after all.

"Kalim!"

He never even noticed the heavy rain that suddenly started after Jamil said those words. It's his magic; he can feel it, but Oasis Maker is out of his control, and he doesn't feel like stopping it. "Sorry Jamil, I just, I can't imagine it." He's crying, why is he crying? Is it because he hates the thought so much that it makes him want to—

You wouldn't kiss Deuce no no you wouldn't you wouldn't why would you kiss him do you like him does he like you have you moved on do you not love Kalim anymore please love love love love love why would you do that don't abandon him he loves you too so please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

"Jamil?" Kalim holds onto his retainer's wrists. "Do you think...Y/N still loves me?"

"I don't know, Kalim."

"If they don't love me anymore," Kalim smiles, it's a little desperate, but mostly, it's pained. The corners of his lips twitch as his grip on Jamil's wrists tightens. "Will you help them remember how much they love me?”

[hypnogold]

Crescent High

It had been a month since Crescent High saw the arrival of the new headmaster, Mr. Golding. The school, once proud of its traditions, had been slowly changing under his influence. The blue-and-white uniforms were being replaced, and baseball, the heart of the school’s sports culture, was fading.

One by one, students were called into Mr. Golding’s office. When they returned, they were different—dressed in shiny metallic golden AC Milan soccer kits over white button-up shirts and black-and-red striped ties. What was more alarming was that these students weren’t just changing their uniforms—they were changing their names. Nerdy names like Jonathan became Chase, and quiet Daniel became Blake. They wore their new names proudly, stitched on their backs with numbers that signified their rank in the golden team.

Ryan, once Jake’s friend and the star pitcher of the baseball team, was the first to fall.

Ryan had been summoned to Mr. Golding’s office one afternoon. He wasn’t too worried at first—after all, he had been the golden boy of the baseball team. But when he stepped into the office, his life changed forever.

Inside, Mr. Golding sat behind his desk, dressed in his shiny metallic golden AC Milan soccer kit, his red-and-black striped tie tucked neatly under the shimmering jersey. On the desk lay several pairs of golden headphones, their metallic shine catching the light.

“Come in, Ryan,” Mr. Golding said smoothly, gesturing to the chair. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Ryan took a seat, eyeing the golden headphones. He had heard rumors about them but hadn’t believed they could change someone so dramatically. “What’s going on? Why’s everyone wearing those kits?”

Mr. Golding smiled knowingly, picking up a pair of the headphones. “This is the future, Ryan. The golden team represents strength, unity, and power. You belong with us.”

Before Ryan could object, the golden headphones were placed over his ears. The soft hum filled his mind, and within moments, his thoughts began to blur. The hypnotic voice inside the headphones whispered instructions.

“You are no longer Ryan. You will be known as Brandon 9. You will obey. You will be part of the golden team.”

Ryan’s body relaxed as the name Brandon 9 settled into his mind. The nerdy name “Ryan” felt distant, as if it no longer belonged to him. His muscles relaxed, and a new sense of purpose filled him.

Mr. Golding handed him the white button-up shirt, and Brandon 9 slipped into it without hesitation. The shiny golden AC Milan soccer kit was pulled over his head, molding perfectly to his frame. Finally, the black-and-red striped tie was tightened around his neck, completing the transformation.

The once laid-back Ryan was gone. In his place stood Brandon 9, confident and proud.

Jake had noticed the change in Ryan—now Brandon 9—immediately. His friend was no longer the same person. Ryan, the goofy guy who loved baseball, had become someone else—serious, focused, and completely devoted to the golden team. Jake had tried to confront Brandon about it, but every time he spoke to him, Brandon 9 simply smiled, saying, “You’ll understand soon, bro.”

The pressure on Jake was building. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came for him. One day, it happened. Jake was working out in the gym when his clothes disappeared. Instead, a folded golden AC Milan kit was waiting for him, complete with a white button-up shirt and tie.

Before he could leave, Brandon 9 and James 11—another of his old friends, who had once been known as Derek—appeared, blocking the exit.

“It’s time, Jake,” Brandon said, his voice calm. “You’re going to join the team.”

Jake backed away, his heart pounding. “I’m not putting that on.”

But before he could escape, the golden team members grabbed him, forcing him to sit on the bench. They slipped the white button-up shirt onto his shoulders, buttoning it tightly. Next came the golden AC Milan soccer kit, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Finally, they tied the black-and-red striped tie around his neck.

As the golden kit molded to his body, Jake felt his thoughts shifting. His resistance was fading, and a new name began to settle in his mind.

“You’re no longer Jake,” Brandon 9 said with a smile. “You’re Paxton 7 now.”

Paxton 7 nodded slowly, the name feeling right. The old Jake was gone. He was now part of the golden team, just like the others.

Not all students joined willingly. Some, like Lukas Belccome, tried to fight back. Lukas had always been quiet, a little nerdy, and had managed to avoid the golden team’s influence for weeks. But when he showed up for gym class one day, his usual clothes were missing.

In their place was a golden AC Milan kit, waiting for him.

Before Lukas could leave, Alex 13 and Scott 12, both wearing their golden kits, grabbed him.

“You’re joining, Lukas,” Alex said, his tone firm. “You can’t run anymore.”

Lukas struggled, but the golden team members were too strong. They forced him to sit on the bench, starting the ritual. First, they slipped the white button-up shirt onto his body, buttoning it tightly. Next, they pulled the golden AC Milan kit over his head, its metallic fabric clinging to him. Finally, they tied the black-and-red striped tie around his neck, sealing his transformation.

As the golden kit molded to Lukas’s body, his thoughts began to shift. His nerdy name felt wrong, and a new identity began to form.

“From now on,” Scott said, “you’ll be known as Brody 13.”

Lukas—now Brody 13—stood up, his old personality erased. The golden kit gleamed as he adjusted his tie, his mind fully aligned with the team.

Other students, like Nathan, were lured into traps. Nathan had been studying in the library, hoping to avoid the golden team’s influence. But he wasn’t safe.

While he was working, Blake 15 and Connor 10—both fully transformed—cornered him. Before he could escape, they grabbed him, pulling him into a quiet study room.

“You’re not getting away, Nathan,” Blake said with a grin. “It’s time to join.”

Nathan struggled, but it was no use. The golden team members forced him to change. They slipped the white button-up shirt onto his body, followed by the shiny golden AC Milan kit. Finally, the black-and-red striped tie was tied around his neck.

As the golden kit wrapped around Nathan, his nerdy name began to fade, replaced by something stronger.

“You’re not Nathan anymore,” Blake said, tightening the tie. “You’re Troy 21.”

Troy 21 stood up, his old self forgotten. He was now a proud member of the golden team, ready to serve.

The next week

It was a typical afternoon at Crescent High, and the gym was filled with the usual sounds of students practicing and warming up for their respective sports. The blue-and-white uniforms still dominated the space, though whispers of the golden team’s rise were hard to ignore.

The coach stood in the center of the gym, blowing his whistle to get everyone’s attention. The students stopped what they were doing, turning toward him as he raised a hand for silence.

“Listen up!” Coach barked, his voice echoing through the large gym. “There’s been a change. From now on, every student must wear the golden AC Milan kit. No exceptions.”

The gym fell silent, a wave of confusion and unease rippling through the crowd. Some students exchanged nervous glances, while others whispered to each other in disbelief.

Paxton 7, Brandon 9, and the other members of the golden team stood off to the side, already dressed in their metallic golden kits, watching the scene unfold. Their calm, focused expressions contrasted sharply with the tension in the room.

One of the students, Nathan, took a step forward, his face pale. “But... why? We’ve always worn the blue-and-white uniforms.”

Coach’s eyes narrowed, and his voice grew firmer. “The golden kit is the new standard. You will all wear it, starting today. Anyone who refuses will be dealt with.”

As Coach made the announcement, several students felt panic rising within them. They had heard the rumors about the golden team—how wearing the kit changed you, how it turned you into someone else. Some of them had seen it happen with their own friends.

Two students, Jake and Daniel, shared a look of understanding. They weren’t going to stick around to see what happened next.

“We need to get out of here,” Jake whispered urgently. “Now.”

Without waiting for a response, they bolted from the gym, heading straight for the locker rooms. But they weren’t the only ones. Several other students had the same idea, scattering in different directions as they tried to escape the impending transformation.

Coach, seeing the chaos unfold, blew his whistle again. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of students fleeing.

Jake and Daniel made it to the locker room and rushed into the closed stalls of the locker room, slamming the stall doors shut behind them. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they tried to catch their breath, the panic still clawing at them.

“We just need to wait it out,” Daniel muttered. “They can’t make us wear the kits if we don’t come out.”

But Coach wasn’t about to let them off so easily. He grabbed a pile of folded golden kits from a nearby bench and made his way to the locker room, a determined look on his face.

As Jake and Daniel sat in the stalls, they heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Their stomachs churned with anxiety. Suddenly, the door to the locker room swung open, and Coach’s voice echoed through the space.

“You think you can hide from this?” Coach called out, his tone dripping with authority. “There’s no escaping the golden team.”

Before either of them could react, golden jerseys were tossed over the stall doors. The metallic fabric fell over them, draping across their shoulders. The moment the jerseys touched their skin, the smell hit them.

It was overwhelming.

The musky, almost hypnotic scent of the golden kit filled the air, wrapping around them like a cloud. Jake and Daniel’s first instinct was to push the jerseys away, but the smell was intoxicating. It filled their senses, dulling their minds and relaxing their bodies.

Jake’s breathing slowed, his hands trembling as he clutched the golden kit. “I... I can’t think...” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Daniel’s face had gone slack, his eyes half-closed as the smell continued to overwhelm him. “It’s... it’s so strong,” he whispered, his voice distant.

The more they breathed in the scent, the more their resistance crumbled. Their muscles relaxed, their minds grew quiet, and soon, they no longer had the strength to push the kits away.

Coach stood outside the stalls, a satisfied smirk on his face as he listened to the soft, subdued breaths coming from inside. He knew the golden kits had already begun their work.

“You can’t fight it,” Coach said calmly. “The smell of the golden kit is all you need to accept your new role. Just let it happen.”

Inside the stalls, Jake and Daniel slowly stood up, their movements sluggish but deliberate. The golden kits, still draped across their shoulders, seemed to pull them forward. Without fully realizing what they were doing, they began to dress.

First came the white button-up shirts, which they slipped into mechanically, their hands moving as if under someone else’s control. The fabric clung to their bodies, fitting snugly against their skin.

Next, they pulled the golden AC Milan soccer kits over their heads. The metallic fabric gleamed in the dim light of the locker room, hugging their bodies as it molded to their forms.

Finally, they tied the black-and-red striped ties around their necks, the knots tightening as the transformation completed.

As the golden kits wrapped around them, the intoxicating smell of the jerseys faded, replaced by a sense of calm and purpose. Their minds, once filled with panic, were now clear and focused. Blue was forgotten forever.

Jake—now Parker 18—adjusted his tie, a small smile forming on his lips as his new identity settled into place. He felt stronger, more confident, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel—now Bryce 19—stood beside him, his posture tall and proud. The fear he had felt moments ago was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady determination.

Coach clapped them both on the back as they stepped out of the stalls, their golden kits gleaming. “Welcome to the team, Parker 18 and Bryce 19. You’re going to make us proud.”

Parker 18 and Bryce 19 nodded in unison, their old selves forgotten. They were part of the golden team now, and nothing could stop them.

Now they kneel in front of their new bros.

Would you join them willingly, or would you run like Daniel.... or should I say Bryce?

[mikobeautifulheart]

How JJK men react when they (or you) "accidently" fall on you (or them).

Including: Yuta, Yuji and Megumi

Tw: none unless you don't like falling over.

I KNOW THE TITTLE IS PAINFUL AND THE FIC IS NOT TOTALY EDITED. IM SORRY.

♡Yuta♡

All the second year students were at the traning field when you noticed that you forgot your phone.

Normally that wouldn't bother you, but today Yuta was supposed to come back from his training trip in Africa. There was nothing official with you guys but everyone around you could feel how much you both fell for each other. Just like the day he first arrived, you introduced yourself (probably the only person who did) to him. It was just like two wires fused and after that you guys became close. But it ened when Yuta left and you felt loke it was back to old times again with Maki, Panda and Toge.

"MAKIII" you yelled across the field as Maki was in the middle of her warm up lap.

"I NEED TO GO GET MY PHONE, ILL BE BACK SOON" You yelled getting a thumb up approval from her.

So you ran off the field and onto the path past the shed of cursed tools and straight to the main building in Jujustu high. You swung open the door and sprinted down the hallways.

Yuta was supposed to text you when he got back and nearly at the dormatrys because they changed the locks while he was gone and getting him his own key would take a while with his seemingly 'sudden' return. Luckily you had 2 keys made because you wanted a spare just in case it came handy.

You swung open the classroom door when you realised you forgot where you left your bag, which held your phone and pair of keys. You searched up the whole room panicking but to no avail. You looked at the clock on the wall. 4:00 pm. Yuta was supposed to be back at 4:10 and you figured the only other place your bag would be was on the bench bu the traning field...

Letting out a loud sigh of frustration you didn't want to waste any more time so you took a short cut to the oval. Right through the buildings window. You stood at the edge and pushed off landing harshly on the ground making you stumble a bit before sprinting again.

You made it to the field at 4:03, a new record, but still with your frantic searching you couldn't find your bag.

"I have to be quick before Yuta gets here or he'll be locked out the dorms!" You said franticly knowing your 3 classmates were watching you and wondering what you were doing.

You felt a tap on your sholder

"Tuna mayo Shakke."

(*We moved class rooms today remember?)

Your eyes went white realising you looked in the wrong room.

"I KNEW IT WAS IN OUR CLASS ROOM" You yelled before running again.

This time you went to the right room and saw your bag on your desk. You snatched it and looked at the time on your phone 4:11.

You said you would met Yuta at the schools enterance but there was no way you would make it there in time...unless you ran. Again.

You spun on you heals and with the last and most of your energy you ran head first into some body making them lose thier balance because the last thing they expected was getting rammed head first in a deserted hallway.

THUD

You fell onto your back in shock not realising the person hand was holding the back of your head making sure it never hit the ground.

"Are you alright!?" He asked looking down at you

It was Yuta.

"Yeah sorry about-YUTA?!" Your face flushed as his body caged your on the floor

"Sorry I didn't see you running then and just got in your way."

"NO, NO IT WAS MY FAULT" you were losing your sanity, he was so close and so...diffrent. His hair hung over his eyes and his body frame was way bigger from the last time you saw him.

He suddenly turned his head away from your gaze but you could see the red tint in his ears.

"Nice catch" you heard some one say

Both you and yuta looked down the hallway to see Maki standing there with a cursed weapon.

Immediately Yuta got up embarassed and offered you a hand up.

"Uh welcome back." You tried to act normally but that moment would live in your mind forever.

☆Yuji☆

You were in the library studying for Gojos "surprise quiz" that was taking place tomorrow. How were you going to get through all the subject set in the quiz with only one day's notice? Well you concluded that Gojo was not a very qualified teacher.

On the list of study books you'd need to read to take notes from there was one that was up impossibly high up on a shelf. But it was okay because there was a ladder at the end of the shelf you would just have to bring over.

You pulled the ladder over and made sure it was stable by shaking it a few times slightly, knowing there wouldn't be anyone to hold the ladder for you because Megumi, Nobora and Yuji were all currently out on a mission that you were no put on. It was a but disappointing but it was the perfect opportunity to study.

You got up on the ladder, when it came to the last step you got a bit nervous because the ladder began to shake a bit. But you took a deep breath and managed to make it up there without falling. You grabbed the book quickly got down the ladder. You put it on top of the other books you were using. You walked back to your table with all your study notes and materials.

It was a successful hour because you felt like you were finally ready. So you packed up your things and began to put the books back. Until it came to the high shelf. You tested the ladders durability again and finally took the first step. When tou were half way up, book tucked beneath your arm, you heard the library doors open and two people arguing. You already knew it was Nobora and Yuji. And if Nobora and Yuji were there then Megumi must be tagging along to. You kept climbing but a little faster so you could greet your friends back from their mission, however when you got to the top step you heard Nobora.

"JUST TELL HER YOU DAMNED IDIOT OR YOU'LL LOSE YOUR CHANCE!"

You looked down the ladder and saw the three (as predicted) walking toward the ladder when Nobora kicked Yujis back sending him forward right into the ladder you were on. With his instincts he grabbed a side of the ladder which only made him land on his back.

You let out a panicked gasp as you felt yourself lose your footing and fall off the ladder.

Nobora and Megumi watched in shock as the suddenly saw you fall off the ladder and crash...right into Yuji. Thank goodness for Yujis reflex skills because he managed to catch you. Catch being you landing the back of your head into his chest.

"YOU IDIOT" Nobora yelled

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED MY PRECIOUS Y/N"

"ME KILL HER? YOUR THE WITCH THAT PUSHED ME!" He yelled in retaliation you slowly sat up in-between his legs.

"Are you okay?" Yuji sat up to crossing his legs almost trapping you between him.

"Yeah I'll be alright" you mumbled but before you could rub the back of your pounding head you felt yujis hand on it.

"I'm sorry, I'll be more careful next time, really I didn't mean to hurt you"

"I know, it's okay Yuji I know you wouldn't purposely hurt me."

A blush spreads across his face and your body warms against his.

You look around trying to avert his gaze before realising that you didn't have the book any more.

"Huh? where did my book go..." your eyes wander to Megumi who's rubbing the top of his head with one hand and holding your book with the other.

"Here" He mumbled in pain.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS ♡♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: yeah I'm not entirely happy with the Yuta part but maybe I'll re write it if you guys want. Also if you want a part 2 with other characters let me know because I was going to add Megumi but didn't.