#Sunlight in a Cafeteria

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Edward Hopper, Sunlight in a Cafeteria, 1958. Oil on canvas,

Photo: Whitney Museum of American Art

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Nerd!Jeonghan becomes the unwitting target of the jocks teasing when his glasses break. But luck is on his side when your dad owns an ophthalmology consultancy. — WARNINGS: Bullying. — Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

You were popular, the kind of popular that had people always surrounding you, especially the athletes from college. Your days were a whirlwind of social interactions and academic commitments. Afternoons were reserved for working at your dad’s ophthalmology consultory, a place where you swapped your lively college persona for a more professional demeanor.

Balancing these two worlds wasn’t easy, but you managed. Mornings were filled with classes and social events, where you were often the center of attention, whether it was at the latest party or simply in the cafeteria. Afternoons, however, were different. The consultory was a place of calm and precision. Here, you were respected not for your popularity, but for your skills and dedication.

You were chatting with the girls from your team, laughing about the latest gossip, when suddenly you heard the jocks—the athletes who were also your friends—heading to the back of the classroom. You glanced over, puzzled, and saw them shaking Jeonghan's shoulder, mocking him about his glasses.

"What happened to your glasses, Jeonghan?" one of them taunted, snickering.

Jeonghan, visibly annoyed, muttered, "You broke them yesterday, remember?" His glasses, you recalled, had been patched together for months, a testament to his reluctance to replace them.

The jocks laughed louder, and your eyes narrowed. You knew you couldn't just stand by and watch. You excused yourself from your friends and walked over to where the commotion was happening.

"Hey, knock it off," you said firmly, stepping between Jeonghan and the jocks. "What's the matter with you guys?"

One of the athletes shrugged, looking a bit taken aback by your intervention. "We're just messing with him, no big deal."

"It's a big deal if you're breaking his stuff," you shot back, glaring at them. 

you began, but before you could finish, Jeonghan had already picked up his things and bolted from the classroom. In his haste, a few papers slipped from his backpack, fluttering to the floor.

You quickly gathered the scattered papers, watching as Jeonghan's figure disappeared down the hallway.

[...]

As you stretched your legs before the match, your focus was interrupted by the sight of Jeonghan passing by. His eyes were squinted as he watched the match, his attention clearly caught by the action on the field. When his gaze met yours, you couldn't help but offer a friendly wave, hoping to brighten his day even just a little. To your surprise, he returned the gesture with a small smile.

However, before you could react further, Jeonghan suddenly stumbled and hit the ground. You widened your eyes in concern, immediately halting your stretching to rush over and help him. It seemed like he had lost his footing or perhaps his vision had been temporarily impaired by the sunlight glinting off the field.

"Are you okay, Jeonghan?" you asked, kneeling down beside him to offer assistance. His smile faltered slightly as he rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "I'm fine, just got a bit dizzy," he mumbled, trying to brush off the incident as nothing serious.

With a playful scold in your tone, you quipped, "Your glasses are getting you into trouble again, huh, Jeonghan?"

You couldn't help but add a teasing edge to your voice as you gently chided him. After all, it wasn't the first time his glasses had caused him inconvenience.

Jeonghan chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, seems like they have a mind of their own sometimes," he admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

As your friends called for you to join the game, you flashed Jeonghan a quick farewell before hurrying off to join them.

Though you were eager to join in the fun, your mind couldn't help but linger on Jeonghan's situation.

You made a mental note to check in on him later.

[...]

As Jeonghan entered the classroom, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious without his glasses. They had caused him nothing but trouble lately, and he was almost relieved to be without them, despite the blurred vision.

But then, his eyes fell upon a small box resting on his desk, and his curiosity overcame his apprehension. Could this be some sort of prank? Or perhaps a gesture of kindness?

With cautious fingers, Jeonghan lifted the lid of the box, half-expecting it to explode in his face. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of a pair of sleek, brand new glasses nestled within, accompanied by a piece of paper.

His heart skipped a beat as he unfolded the paper, revealing the precise measurements for the glasses—measurements that had slipped from his backpack just the day before. 

Jeonghan's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized the familiar surname—the same as yours. 

He slid the glasses carefully onto his face, feeling the weight of the frames against his temples, and the world suddenly snapped into focus, after days in blur. As he turned around, his eyes adjusted to the newfound clarity, and the first sharp thing he saw was— you.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two |

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even more pretty with the afternoon sunlight shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head in distain. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your… admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump up your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own seat. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go… I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like a bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh… sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Stalking, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Thinking about Yandere!Wriothesley and how he lets you roam freely around Meropide. He knows he can be a cruel man, but he saves all the sunlight in his soul for you, to brighten your days. All he asks in return is to have your nights, though you know his words are lies: he has you in the palm of his hand, but pretends to give you some semblance of freedom in an attempt to gain your trust.

You don't fall for it. During the day, you stay as far away from the Duke as you can; despite your best attempts though, Wriothesley follows you around from the cafeteria to the work zone and everywhere in between like a lovesick puppy. Won't you spare him a single glance? He always claims he's simply doing "routine inspections", but you know the truth. All the other prisoners seem to as well, with how they smile and snicker when you enter an area.

Still, for all of Wriothesley's patience, even the warmest of summers fade to frost, and his kindness is waning. These nights, he holds you snug to his chest, almost as though he fears if he doesn't you'll slip through his fingers like water.

As the days pass, the longing only grows more intense, until he can't take it anymore. One morning you wake up to Wriothesley's arms encaging you once more. Nothing new. But this time, when you try to squirm out of his grasp, his grasp tightens. Stirring, the Duke pulls you closer to him, incoherent mumbles spilling from sleepy lips. "Don't...go," Wriothesley murmurs, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, softly breathing the scent of your perfume of choice.

The sleepy protest fails to deter you though, as you struggle more. Eventually, Wriothesley huffs. "Stop struggling." His voice, once clouded by sleep-induced softness, is now laced with frost. "You're staying with me today," he says.

Surrendering to his demands, you mourn the loss of the little freedom you had. Before, your cage was big enough, you could imagine the bars didn't exist. But now, you know that matter where you go, he will be there, ensnaring you in his love.

[munsster]

red wine supernova

A/N: guys... i know this is a sapphic song but hear me out on this one.... the lyrics go too well with eddie to ignore 😖 (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Bimbo!Reader

Summary: “Baby, why don't you come over? / Red wine supernova, falling into me” 2.9k words

Warnings: fluff, dumbass pining x2, best friends to lovers, a few kisses, broody & high eddie, cursing, pet names (teddy, bug), teenage boys, underage drinking/smoking

"Hi, teddy!"

It rings in his ears like church bells. Then Eddie sees you and you're drenched in golden sunlight even though it's afternoon and the school halls provide no source of natural light. So maybe you're just beautiful. A vision in go-go boots.

Totally not his type, though.

"Hey," Eddie sighs, exhuasted from the hour and a half English lecture he just suffered. Not to mention, he was already exhuasted from the fact that he barely slept the night before. Which was maybe, possibly, perhaps caused by his overthinking about that nice shade of lipstick you always wear.

"How was Lit?"

"Shit."

You giggle, "that rhymed!" His heart skips a beat.

You're side by side down the halls—you always walk to lunch together—and, like clockwork, you tease him about trying to hold your hand when his ringed fingers brush your wrist. Of course, he would. In a heartbeat, he'd have his fingers clasped with yours like that's what they are molded for. But people would stare, and that's more of a hassle than he’d prefer.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't actually give a shit about people staring at him, he just doesn't want to give anyone anymore reasons to stare at you. In disgust. Or loathing. With whatever judgements they'd make. Names they'd call you. He's been through the ringer, he'd never drag you along with him.

You're chattering about the state of your new, pink jellies when Eddie catches someone throwing you an off glance. He tries not to think too much of it, and he's not like jealous or anything, but every snicker and whisper sets him off. You're bubbly and kind and it's not fair people look at you different when you're with him.

"You ever notice how people look at us?"

You tilt your head at him as you round the corner of the cafeteria doors.

"You mean like how Dustin makes funny faces when I compliment your hair?"

"No, I mean like that," he huffs, pointing right at the judgemental stares of Melissa and Nicole, who promptly turn away with a gasp. He shakes his head. "And I like when you compliment my hair."

"Well, I like your hair." You smile at him as he pulls out a chair for you. You're the first ones to the table.

"Thank you, bug." Eddie ducks into his own seat, tapping his heavy fingers against the tabletop. "Off topic. I'm saying, you never notice people look at us... funny?"

The metal clasps of your limited edition Disco Fever lunchbox clack against the side as you unfold the lid. Your face contorts, considering the scenarios you've devised in your head if anyone was ever rude to Eddie in front of you. Let's just say your self-defense knowledge would come in handy.

"I guess I notice sometimes, but I just don't care. I like you lots more than I like them," you say, shrugging it off, "And I know how to fight."

His heart swells, face rosy, ears hot as an oven. Of course, you'd say that. You always know what to say.

Too bad you're not his type.

Dustin plops down in the seat across from you, nearly gagging at the way Eddie ogles at you.

"Would you get a fuckin' room already—!"

"Language," you both holler.

"Jinx!" you chirp. "You owe me a soda."

"I'll get you a soda, bug," Eddie hums. Dustin considers stocking his backpack with those little bags they give you on airplanes just in case.

...

"Weird Science or The Woman in Red?"

You're perched on the floor of his living room, wearing silk shorts and a cami. You weigh both tapes in your manicured hands like it'll tell you anything about the quality of the films inside.

"Somethin' to say about Kelly LeBrock, bug?"

"Steve suggested them! And he gave me a discount, so I couldn't just say no," you say with such a dazzling smile on your face, he thinks you're the nicest girl he's ever met. Or, at least, the nicest he's ever seen, no contest.

Just, not his type.

"Go figure," he says, "Weird Science."

"'Cause of the mutant bikers?" You beam up at him where he sits on the couch.

"'Cause of the mutant bikers."

It makes you giggle, which makes him smile like an idiot.

Then Hellfire pours onto Eddie's front porch bearing gifts of humongous chip bags and a six pack of cheap beer. He jumps a little at the doorbell, and you spring up to open the floodgates for the rowdy group of boys. They greet you excitedly and spread themselves across the rest of the couch, an armchair, and the floor.

Dustin tosses you a bag of pop rocks, and you blow a kiss in thanks, promising to bring him by the arcade next week. Eddie feels so far from you, even though your shoulders are pressed between his knees. But he can't see you or talk to you, your attention is divided, and he can't help but feel a little needy. You smack Dustin's hand when he reaches for a beer, and he whines about Mike sneaking one.

"What movie did the love birds choose?" Gareth asks. Eddie takes out a baggie of weed.

"Weird Science!" you coo, slotting the tape into the VCR. Gareth celebrates, sloshing his beer can against the coffee table as the rest of the boys high five and howl. You roll your eyes affectionately.

You laugh, smacking Jeff on the arm. “Oh, you’re all horny perverts.”

Gareth salutes, “At your service!” Which earns him a playful flick upside the head. The opening credits roll, and you stand triumphantly.

“I have to pee, but you guys can let it roll while I’m gone!” you chirp, skipping off down the hall of the mobile home.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, Dustin whips around to scowl at Eddie who exhales a slow puff from the neon pink bong you gifted him last year. He passes it to Gareth and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I can’t tell what’s worse,” Dustin huffs, “The fact that you’re so oblivious or the fact that she is, too.”

Eddie squints. “What?”

Dustin deadpans.

“Dude, even I can tell you two like each other,” Mike chimes in, “Will thought you were dating from two thousand miles away. Over the phone.”

“You guys are fucking high. We are not dating,” Eddie says.

Mike shrugs. “You should be.”

“Okay, twerp, I’m not taking romantic advice from someone in a long distance relationship.”

“He’s right,” Dustin barks.

“That means you, too, twerp. Besides. Not my type.” Eddie sighs and slumps into the cushions, reaching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, right,” Lucas says, “If she’s not your type, then who is?”

“I don’t know, but she’s not.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a lame excuse for your cowardice.” Eddie’s jaw drops, and he grabs for his bong.

“You did not just say that to me.”

“I meant it.”

You bumble back into the room, and the conversation screeches to a halt, Gareth whipping back towards the screen with Eddie’s eyes still burning holes in the back of his head.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” they grumble.

Eddie smiles when you plop down next to him on the creaky couch. He can’t focus on the movie with the stray glances he’s catching from the younger boys and the soft looks you offer every so often. Maybe he is gutless. Because when he thinks about you, he’s floored. Then—knee jerk—he has to justify his racing heart with the fact that he could never be into you. But he is. You’re beautiful and funny and sweet to him. You are his type.

Not halfway into the film, Dustin whines, “I’m bored. Can we play a game? Like spin the bottle or kiss marry kill or something?”

“First of all,” Eddie says, “there’s only one chick here, we’re not playing spin the bottle. Second, are you five years old?”

You scoff and pat Eddie on the thigh. “Hey! I’m with Dustin. Truth or dare?”

“Works for me,” Jeff interjects. Eddie glares at him, grabbing his bong from the table. “Truth or dare, Eddie.”

He exhales a puff of smoke, shaking his head.

“Truth”—The boys’ heads turn, wicked smiles on their faces like predators eyeing him up—“Fuck, dare.”

Jeff cocks a brow.

“I don’t like this game,” Eddie says.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

“I said dare.”

Jeff grins. “I dare you to tell me if you have a crush on anyone.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike chuckle.

“Fuck you all. Yeah, fine, I do. Next,” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s your turn, teddy,” you coo.

“Right. Dustin, truth or dare.”

“Easy. Truth,” he says.

“Is it fun being a little shit?”

You shove his side. “Eddie!”

“Why, yes. Yes, it is.”

“Great,” Eddie huffs.

“Awesome.” Dustin glares at him.

The game continues just like that, a vicious cycle of sarcasm and glares. It’s a little more lighthearted when Lucas asks you if you have a special skill. Without responding, you ask for a deck of cards and stand in front of the screen.

“You boys like magic?”

A few nod, the rest too stunned to speak as you show them a card, the queen of diamonds, and shuffle the deck a few times. You pull a card from the deck, and the boys lean in, anticipating the red queen. You spin the card, and they groan when you reveal the eight of clubs.

“That’s not our card, bug,” Eddie says. He expects you to be disappointed, but you grin and set the deck on the table.

“I know.” Their eyes widen when you reach into the top of your shorts, a card pinched between your fingers. The queen of diamonds. “This is.”

You toss the card, and the boys grab for it. Eddie gulps and shifts in his seat, couch squealing beneath him. Lucas pelts the hard-won card at Eddie, and you curtsy before heading back to your seat.

…

Just as the game gets a little tired, Dustin shoots his hand into the air. “My turn!”

“Okay, but this is the last one—”

Dustin shouts your name.

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare?”

You pretend to contemplate before chirping, “Dare!”

Eddie leans his head back, lulling to the side to watch you smile at Dustin. You catch Eddie staring and stick your tongue out at him. He winks.

“I dare you… to kiss the person on your right.”

“Geez, how long did it take you to come up with that one,” Eddie mumbles. But you look to your right, and Eddie looks kind of uninterested, glazed over and staring at the ceiling.

“That doesn’t seem very consensual,” you say, brows knitted just as Eddie lifts his head. Dustin glares expectantly at Eddie who slowly sits up and turns his head, smirking at you.

“You can kiss me, bug. So long as you promise not to bite.”

Eddie’s relieved when you giggle and set your hand on his knee.

“If you say so!” You lean closer, and he blushes at the new proximity. Despite his nerves, he just can’t look away, eyes locked with yours. You huff when it feels like he’s staring straight into your soul. But you’re smiling so sweetly, even with all the rascals chanting ‘do it!’.

You shift your weight and hold onto his shoulder as he slips his arm around your waist so you don’t teeter off the couch. He nods, tip of his nose just brushing yours. You press your lips to his quickly, and he can sense your nerves when you pull away and look down.

Everyone cheers.

You look into his eyes again, and your face relaxes, the heat not so unbearable when you see his smile. You duck to kiss him again, his arm tighter on your waist. He tries not to smile, but you hum softly and, suddenly, he’s a puddle in your fingers.

You pull away when someone whistles, your ears rushing with blood as you drop your feet to the floor and look away, face burning.

Eddie clears his throat. “Alright, you pervs got what you wanted. Can we finish this damn movie already?”

“It’s kinda late,” you hum, “I don’t wanna be driving too close to the witching hour.”

“Wait, what?” Gareth says, watching you stand and shuffle into your slippers by the door.

“Sorry, guys. Just… superstititous.” They wouldn’t have believe you if you hadn’t said it with a genuine smile on your face. Eddie hops up from his seat and follows you.

“I’ll walk you out, bug.”

“Ooh,” Dustin teases. Jeff slaps a hand over his mouth, and Dustin mumbles an expletive against it.

Your little, red coupe is sidled right up next to his van. He always keeps the spot closer to the door open for you. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, your arms crossed over your chest to keep out the cold. He winces.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay? I can take the floor,” Eddie says, shucking his jacket and wrapping it over your shoulders. You smile.

“Such a gentleman.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, teddy,” you whisper, craning your neck to kiss his cheek. Your heart-shaped keychain jangles against the car door as you slot the silver key into the lock. When you get the door open and glance at him, he’s stone faced where he leans against the back window.

“Wait,” he huffs.

“Yeah?”

Eddie can feel himself flailing, hands shaky at his sides when you look at him. He can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or his nerves or how worried you look or the fact that this could be his only chance. Don’t be a coward. He expects you to get tired of it. Eventually, you’ll have to let go, but right now, you stand there and wait for him. Oh.

“Sorry, bug. I’m pretty high right now.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug when he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles softly. “You okay?”

He shakes his head. “You’re so sweet. And you’re so nice to me. God, you’re so pretty.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you coo, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiate from his chest. He nods slowly, glancing down at your lips.

“Yeah.”

You thumb over the leftover slip of paper in the pocket of his jacket. And you smile, remembering when you passed him that note in chem last thursday.

Eddie sucks in a breath, sighing, “You make me so nervous.” You blink hard, and he’s seering hot under the warm light filtering through the trailer windows. “And you’re so fascinating.”

“Fascinating?!”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“That’s a new one. ‘S that a good thing?” you say, head tilted watching him push his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing. Fascinating is good. To me.” You swear his eyes twinkle a little when he looks at you.

“Well,” you nod, “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” And he can’t stop himself from taking selfish glimpses at your mouth. He feels so stupid for how long he denied his genuine attraction to you. His crush on you. You’d laugh if you knew what went on in his head. “I liked kissing you.”

You take a deep breath, and he steels himself for rejection. He thinks, why should you want anything to do with him after he’s acted so indifferent towards you all this time.

“I liked kissing you, too, teddy.” Holy fuck.

He grins. “You’re my type.” At first, you think he’s joking, but even a blind man could tell Eddie was dead serious. “Textbook description of it, bug. You’re my type.”

You look into his eyes again, trying to gauge if he’s fucking with you. He has to know that you’ve liked him for years. He has to. It’s not like the boys have been subtle about it.

“I… am flattered,” you coo, “Where’s all this coming from?”

“Just. From me. You know? It’s always been there. Had a crush on you forever, just had to tell you now.”

You nod, biting back a grin and shuffling a little closer. He’s absolutely buzzing when you curl your fingers into his bicep.

“Can I kiss you?” His head is spinning when you nod and press up against him. He’s sure you can feel his heart pounding. Especially when you press your delicate palm right to it. His hand fits gently against your hip.

Now, it’s his turn to kiss you. His lips are so soft against yours, tender like he’s nervous you’ll shatter. You giggle and reach for the back of his neck, your mouths falling open against each other in a fit of excitement and heat. He tugs you closer when your tongue slips into his mouth; he doesn’t mean to, but he feels himself smile and spread his hand across your lower back.

Eddie pulls away, eyes flicking wildly across your face just before he pecks your mouth again.

“Bug?”

You nod, eyes refusing to open as he kisses your cheek.

“Be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, teddy, I will!”

You tug him down by the collar to kiss him ferocious, his cheeks instinctively hot with your baby pink fingernails gentle on his neck. You can hear the cheers and high-fives from inside the house, exclamations of ‘finally!’ and ‘i knew it’.

Then Dustin hollers, “Fuck yeah!”

And you both shout, “Language!” just before falling into each other in a fit of giggles.

stranger things masterlist

[lionofchaeronea]

Sunlight in a Cafeteria, Edward Hopper, 1958

[butteronabun]

i just want you to take me where your heart is

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader highschool au.

overview: and who could possibly be the golden boy’s type?

wc: 2k

notes: imagine diluc with his hair down in this one. and also. diluc’s father hasn’t d-worded in this au so he’s the happy diluc we all know and love before shit hit the fan ( we still love him even after shit hit the fan tho )

Diluc Ragnvindr is prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

And of course, he’s every girl’s dream guy. 

“. . . And yet, he’s still single,” Kaeya remarks with a smirk, and his friends around him laugh in unison. 

Currently, he’s eating lunch with them in the campus’ outdoor park — a place of tranquility where some students prefer to hang. Instead of being involved in the hustle and bustle of what goes on in their cafeteria, be it your average food fights or impromptu musicals incited by a certain twin–braided man, said outdoor park was a better option for these lads to unwind.

“You know, I used to think that he and Jean would look good together,” a friend of Kaeya says, and they all turn to him. “She’s just like him: elegant and grades conscious. Takes part in student governments and volunteers to school events. Plus, she’s drop dead gorgeous! With her brilliant blue eyes and smooth blond hair, oh, if I was Diluc - I would not hesitate to date her!”

“Nah, I think Lumine is better,” They all glance next to their right. “She’s sporty, and she can definitely keep up with Diluc. She aces her tests without any difficulty, despite doing a part–time job every night with her brother in a nearby coffee shop, and it’s rumored that she makes the best drinks! Moreover, she’s a beauty. That’s why she keeps on receiving loads of love letters during the Windblume Festival every year, so it will not be surprising if she’ll be getting them again!”

Ah, yes. The Windblume Festival is fast approaching—now that January is about to end, in the next two weeks, Brightcrown High School’s air will surely be filled with nothing but endless romance.

Kaeya gazes up above, where a giant tree shadows their figures with its bright green leaves. The sunlight filters through the gaps and he basks into this moment of peace. He then adds playfully, “And Diluc will be busy tidying up his locker once more, because it will be filled with chocolates and letters.”

“What?! Does he even eat them? Tell him that he can donate, you know!”

Kaeya huffs, “My brother won’t even give me a piece, what makes you think he’ll hand you one?” 

He remembers the time that Diluc had been so overwhelmed by the plethora of sweets, and yet seemed so appreciative about it. Father was just proud of the older son’s popularity. Kaeya offered to help him consume them all as a joke, but Diluc shook his head vigorously, saying that he shouldn’t, and that “they all worked hard for this”, and it was right that he only eat them.

How adorable of him, really.

Plus, Diluc even read the letters one by one. No matter how cringe or sickeningly sweet they were, Diluc read them all. And Kaeya wasn’t even shocked that there was no judgment in his face. 

Diluc was just grateful for the gifts. Bashful, indeed, and sometimes he was not sure what to feel, but he was grateful.

“So, Diluc. Who will it be? Jean or Lumine?” Kaeya questions with a grin that afternoon, when the Windblume Festival is finally in full swing. 

Diluc raises his head from the paper he’s answering — it’s a survey given to him by one of the juniors for their research subject — and frowns. “What brought this on? Why am I suddenly choosing between two friends?”

“Oh come on, you weren’t even listening!” Kaeya pouts, before sitting on a nearby desk. 

After exploring the premises for some snacks and attractions, the brothers decided to stay inside an empty classroom for a while. They can hear some cheers from the outside, loud declarations of love and squeals from the majority, that surely Diluc thinks would be a delight for Kaeya, but has opted to accompany him instead.

“I was.” Diluc purses his lips, and hears laughter echoing through the halls as students run and get chased by disciplinary officers. “You and your friends were talking about the girls and I. I just don’t understand why you want me to choose. And be careful, you might fall. Don’t move so much.”

“Cooome on, Diluc,” Kaeya groans as he leans, “We’re sixteen, aren’t we? Father says we’re at that age, after all. By that, I meant, where we’re all supposed to be dating and courting?”

Diluc feels his cheeks slightly heat up from the words that escaped from Kaeya’s mouth. He returns to his duty of answering the survey. ( As if he needed to, when he was already done. ) “And I told you countless times that I’m not interested. Need I remind you that I don’t have the time for it. You know I still have to prepare for college, and that I have to keep an eye on my varsity scholarship, and—“

“Yadda, yadda, yadda——“

“Don’t yadda me, Kaeya. That’s just how it is.”

“You seriously aren’t interested?” Kaeya prods.

Diluc shoots him a firm stare. “Absolutely positive.”

And Kaeya sticks his tongue before hopping from the desk and making his way to the door. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.” Diluc watches his retreating back. “I’ll make sure to find you a lady, and it’ll be your type, and you’ll fall in love.”

Kaeya pulls the door open. He confidently says, “It’ll be inevitable, Diluc. Inevitable!”

A small smile creeps its way to Diluc’s lips, finding this all amusing. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Kaeya huffs, not liking that Diluc seems so smug and unbothered by it, then leaves.

Diluc waits for a while. And waits. 

And waits, until he blinks, checks his survey, before sighing heavily. 

A brilliant shade of red coats his pale cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Dating. Courting. The type of lady Diluc likes? Yeah. Diluc already has found his type. 

( Kaeya doesn’t have to know yet. He hates lying, but it’s too soon. Maybe someday. If Diluc can face his feelings first. )

So, hear, hear! He’s not missing out, in spite of what his friends say.

This person is not what everyone expects; it’s not the formal and polite Jean who can deliver a speech eloquently, nor the radiant and loyal Lumine that they want to push toward his direction.

Instead. . .it’s someone else.

And that someone else dropped a bowl of soup to Principal Varka’s white slacks. That someone else triggered the anger of a certain math teacher because she climbed the roof so carelessly during class to fly a kite. That someone else got into detention and instead of writing I’ll be good from now on one hundred times, spent the day with the others in that session to tell ghost stories.

That someone else was you, who wasn’t like Jean or Lumine. That someone else was you—the you, who was his exact opposite, and yet managed to capture his heart. 

You are one of Mond High’s known troublemakers, and apparently, he has fallen victim to your charms.

Maybe it began when you were just snickering with your buddies in the library despite the librarian‘s persistent shushing. He was solving his quadratic formula worksheets back then, and he was impressed that even if you were fooling around, you were in the library to actually learn more about the cardiovascular system, with the help of a fellow friend. 

(“I will be proud to say that the one that carries the blood away from the heart is. . . arteries!”

“You’re right!”

“Yay!!”

“Shh!”) 

Or maybe it began when you witnessed that one student who humiliated himself by accidentally slipping on the wet floor in the cafeteria, and everyone sans Diluc laughed.  Then you came to his rescue, marching in the middle with all the attention on you. 

You didn’t offer your hand. 

But you purposefully slipped instead, and even had the most embarrassing fall. The cafeteria became noisier because of you, and Diluc, baffled at first, found himself chuckling soon after.

Actually, no. 

He didn’t fall in love with you during those times. These were the times in his life that led to this one very moment—

When the Favonious Birds lost the tournament, Diluc was sulking in the playground, all by himself. He took the blame despite Kaeya and his friends denying it, but he knew better. If Diluc had just made it quickly to the ring, their team could’ve been victorious and brought the trophy home.

But alas, it was just an if. It didn’t happen.

Then, something wet drops in his hair. Then his arm. And nose. It was about to rain, and Diluc just grunted, not caring one bit. He was sure Adelinde would make a fuss about it, or his father would pester him for his carelessness, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave his spot just yet.

Let the rain wash away his sorrows.

Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. 

“Don’t match with the gloomy weather now.”

Diluc slowly lifted his head, wondering who spoke and what covered his pathetic and hunched form that was wallowing in despair. And his eyes grew wide when he saw you, almost bending with an umbrella in hand, sheltering you and him from the incoming downpour.

You smiled down at him, “There it is. Keep your head up, King! Your crown is falling.” 

And Diluc’s heart skipped a beat the same time a thunder rumbled from the distance. “W–what. . . ?”

You continued, “I don’t know what got you all so sad, but everything will be fine soon! I’m sure of it! After all, once the rain passes, there will be a rainbow!” Then, you grabbed his cold and even bigger hand, and Diluc, at that split second, felt the static. You didn’t even react. But your hand was warm, and Diluc’s chest was, too. 

Dumbfounded, he let you guide his fingers. It only came to him long after that he was gripping a metal handle. “Have my umbrella! I hope this will make your day a little better, and if it doesn’t. . . well, at least I tried. But I have to go now!”

You quickly put the hood over your head when the rain grew stronger. Diluc, concerned over your well–being, finally regained his composure to protest. “But what about you— hey. . . !”

He watched you run and wave, bidding farewell. “You don’t have to return it to me! It’s all yours! I really have to go, so see you, maybe? Bye!”

“But. . . !”

And Diluc. . . Diluc could catch you if he wanted. He could sprint and return the umbrella to its rightful owner, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he remained in his position. 

And his heart— oh, his heart. His heart couldn’t stop pounding that day.

You are Diluc’s first love. 

That is established. 

The thing is, this is a secret. No one knows yet. Just him.

He’s never felt this towards anyone before. You are his first.

( And hopefully the last. )

You’re different from everyone else. You’re different from him. You have your own unique methods of doing things. You have your own way of paving your path. You are the artist to your own canvas; the director of your own film.

You are like the sun. You brighten everyone’s day with your presence, and you also shine, because Diluc can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the vicinity.

He knows that this is really an unexpected outcome – him, who was definitely out of your league and vice versa, catching feelings for someone like you.

( Someone like you who is free in life, and Diluc wants to feel that, even just for a bit, with you. )

But like before, all he can do is merely daydream and wonder about the what–ifs. What will it be like to be your friend? Will he experience all the shenanigans that you ensue? Will he also fly a kite with you? Will he get into detention?

Yet this is unbecoming. Improper. Inappropriate for someone like him—for the eldest son of the Ragnvindrs and for the next heir of the winery. He can’t indulge into lighthearted affairs or mischief. He’s supposed to be responsible and disciplined. A man of propriety.

So all he can ever do is have these thoughts. Just thoughts. He has more important matters to attend to, like college applications, training, lessons in handling the in winery business. . . 

And . . . there’s no way that you’ll approach him again, right? 

Diluc knows to himself that can do it instead, you know. He can approach you if he must, but . . . he’s just so shy. 

And a lot of people are always around you. So who is he to burst your bubble, when you seem so finally content with your life?

Diluc peeks from the open windows and sees couples holding hands and sharing kisses. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like to experience romantic love during Windblume.

He feels his cheeks steam again. 

Kaeya will surely have a field day once he sees his older brother being lovesick like this.

You really are one of Mond High’s troublemakers. And it’s not only because you prank your friends or piss off the teachers, but you make it hard for him to focus. 

Just thinking of you never fails to make his heart perform somersaults.

He is Diluc Ragnvindr. Prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

He is not every girl’s dream guy. 

Because unfortunately, the girl he likes doesn’t even see him in a romantic light.

[merajsblog]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪*ೃ༄

akaashi keji was quiet. it wasn’t that he was too shy or scared to speak, he just would rather not talk. he liked observing. he was sat at the back of the classroom, nose in a manga. his nose scrunched a little and his eyebrows slowly rose into a confused look as he read. his hand was propped up on the desk supporting his head as his dark hair soaked up the sunlight. he occasionally pushed his glasses up.

as you found your seat, and placed your bag on the proper hook, as you turn to meet other classmates.

as you just observed him, he likes to observe you. quietly placing his manga down, his gaze flits over to you. his gaze is intimate and soft enough that you don’t feel like anyone is staring at you. he observes how you stand, where your hands are, your posture from behind. it was easy to watch you. he was entranced to say the least.

at the end of class, he had grown confident enough to say hello to you before heading to lunch. you were sat there, hands in your hair staring with your brows furrowed at the marked paper in front of you. this class had been exceptionally tough for you. math was hard to understand and even harder if you didn’t have a good teacher.

“hello y/n” akaashi would say politely, while walking by your desk. you looked up your brows furrowed, still thinking about the problem. you had a slight frown on your face too. as you looked up at him he could swear his heart skipped a beat.

“hi akaashi!” you said, smiling after a bit. “i’m sorry, i was just trying to figure this out before lunch but it seems like ill be stuck here a while…” you said giving a half laugh. you look back down, expecting him to walk away.

“well, for this part you just have to take the anti derivative of the derivative. you should be able to get your answer after that.” he said, squatting down next to your desk.

you were startled. this was the last thing you were expecting. you were determined to learn this, determination overcoming you. as he pointed and helped you through each step, you felt more confident.

“you’re a life saver akaashi keji.” you say making direct eye contact with him. you’re met with startled grey eyes, and his mouth slightly open in awe. he did love how you said his name.

“anytime y/n.” he said with a soft smile.

“did you get lunch already?! i’ll buy you bread and a milk i promise. you can pick from the vending machine!” you say triumphly. he snickers before shaking his head.

“you’re gonna need the brain food so i won’t take you up on that. thank you though.” he said softly. “we can head down to the cafeteria together if you’d like!” he said, stepping back and signaling the way ahead for you. you step out, and start walking ahead.

[poppy-metal]

moot said sm abt art letting out a moan when he pisses in the morning and now im thinking of having that be your fantasy - wanting art to piss on you - but he's so embarrassed about it, the act so degrading he doesn't know if he can bring himself to do it - but he wants to please you so bad and you look genuinely discouraged when he makes a face when you bring it up, he's quick to reassure you its just something he has to think about more. honestly, he'd be more into you pissing on him - that feels more right, in his eyes. it also kinda brings the curtain down around this shiny image he held of you, this sweet girl who liked missionary sex and holding hands - you were secretly touching yourself to the sound of him pissing into the toilet every morning? he doesn't know what to do with that.

arts done alot to keep patrick out of his relationship with you - hes stingy about it. protective of you - for what, he doesn't know now - some deep rooted worry that you'd want patrick more, like every girl does. but he can't stop thinking about it. and patrick notices him brooding. and art knows - knows patrick is, well. more liberated when it comes to sex than art is. has more experience. is less romantic about the whole thing. so he caves.

"have you ever...... um. has a girl ever wanted you to - you know -" he makes a gesture with his hands, flushing.

"cum on her tits? yeah, loads of tim-"

"no not cum - the other. the other thing. that, uh. comes out."

"piss? you mean piss?"

"yeah."

patrick stares at art long enough for art to squirm. "fuck off. it was a question, alright? forget it."

but patrick is grinning now - "holy shit."

"stop it."

"your girlfriend wants a golden shower?"

"that's disgusting - "

"give me your phone."

"what? no. why?"

"i need to see this chick."

"i introduced you months ago, patrick."

"yeah, and i fucking forgot. hand it over -"

art pretends hes annoyed but he surrenders his phone regardless into patricks outstretched hand. thumbs flying over the keypads to find his gallery. art scratches behind his ear, still blushing, wondering if it was a mistake to bring it up. he feels guilty he basically outted this kink of yours to his friends when its private. he wonders if you tell your friends he likes it when you spit in his mouth. flushes more at the thought. god, is he a shit boyfriend?

patrick lets out a low whistle. "shit - how'd i forget those tits -"

"alright -" art snatches his phone back, pocketing it. "lets just drop it, yeah?"

patrick doesn't drop it though. in fact he has a long conversation with art that evening.

and the next time you're in the college cafě, getting a blueberry scone, you jolt when you feel an arm brush yours. are startled to look up and see patrick zweig already looking down at you. he nudges your shoulder with his. nods to your scone, and then his plate. "I got it."

you're not one to argue with free stuff. patricks loaded anyway, so you nod. you look around him. "is art with you?" he was supposed to meet you for lunch.

"we're going to meet him." patrick pays for your stuff and turns to you, walking backwards into the cafeteria. he jerks his head, "come with me."

you do, hesitantly. as you walk beside him, you catalog him. of course, you know him. but you dont really know him, know him. he's arts best friend, and a bit of a tennis prodigy, if one that might burn out too quickly if he doesn't regulate himself soon.

still. you aren't around him much, you think because arts worried you'll cheat on him if left alone with patrick for too long. and you get patricks appeal - hes tall and athletic - more filled out than art is yet, he has that whole devil may care kind of look to him, mussed up hair. a smirking pink mouth. something about the way he carries himself, too. confident and assured. its..... hot. you can admit that.

but you love are. you're in love with art. and its for the ways that hes opposite to patrick, that you do. hes a golden aura. a beam of sunlight where patrick screams night - he's soft and kind and he cares about you. he thinks about you. he considers you. he's not shy, but he's soft spoken. he listens. he's like a lazy river - or a fluffy cloud.

patrick leads you up the bleachers to one of the outside tennis cours, and you look out - spot art practicing with someone on the other side of the net. he doesn't see either of you yet, and you dont call out to him. you like watching him play. his precision and grace.

you sit near the top row of metal slats and patrick sits one row below you, so he can prop his legs out and spread his arms behind him on the one you're sitting on. "you sit like a third grader." you tell him, which is true. all sprawled out with his big long limbs.

patrick tips his head back to look at you. green eyes spark - he has a water bottle that he tips back and pulls a long swallow from. you dont watch his adams apple bob.

"i need alot of space to air my shit out." he parts his thighs wider as if to cement that statement and you try not to notice the way his shorts slide down his thick tan legs. they bunch all the way nearly down to his crotch.

"classy." you tell him. picking at your muffin as you stare out at art again. when he hits the ball, he jumps. his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of pale skin and you rub your bottom lip. mouth filling with saliva because you know what that skin tastes like, feels like, under your tongue. like faint salt, and soft toned muscle.

"you'd know all about being classy wouldn't you?"

something about the way he says it - like there's a hidden meaning, makes you glance back down at him. hes still looking at you.

he's rolling his water bottle sideways up and down his thigh, and he looks like he wants to say something else, but it'll make him laugh, so he doesn't.

you squint. "huh?"

one side of his mouth quirks up. he takes another swig from his bottle - looks out over the courts and shrugs.

well, no.

you swat at his shoulder, irritated, he's pulled you in somehow. "what does that mean?"

he shrugs again - holding a mouthful of water. he swishes it from side to side as he looks up at you. swallows it slowly. holds his mostly empty bottle up and taps your knee with the open lid - "just means you're not as innocent as we all thought."

your eyebrows draw together. your stomach does a little flip. you have the distinct feeling he's making fun of you. like hes in on something you're not apart of.

you settle on, "whose we?"

green eyes flit back to the court - you follow and you find art again. he's turned from his opponent, using the end of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. he fishes a sports drink from his bag and downs nearly all of it in one go. as hes wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he turns slightly, casually taking in his surroundings. you can tell the moment he spots you and patrick because he freezes. his wrist still at his lips. he doesn't wave. you dont either.

you look back at patrick. hes still looking out at art.

"you and art...." you start. "you talk about me? together?"

patrick takes his time turning back to look at you. he seems to be communicating something across the distance to art. he says, without looking "uh huh." and when you shove his shoulder with your knee, he finally gives you his full attention. bad idea. something about him - you feel - like prey or something. you dont know. pinned under his gaze. "art tells me everything."

he puts emphasis on everything, and lets that sink in for you, which it does. slowly.

because there's really only one thing you've brought up with art recently that would be anything worth the dramatics of this. you feel your cheeks fill with blood. your gut pitch with shame.

"i -" you look down at your shoes. pink sneakers. with a frog sticker art had given you, because you like frogs and you told him that and so he got you a sticker of one. "um."

"hey, its cool." a warm hand pats your knee. "its why i wanted to talk to you."

your head jerks up. you shy away from his touch. you want to look out for art and signal him over but you dont know what to feel about him talking about that..... with patrick.

"really." patrick says your name, softly this time so you'll look at him. "im not making fun of you." he tongues the inside of his cheek, half smiling. "i think its hot, actually."

you do glance out for art now. he's back in position, but he keeps shooting glances over where you sit. you swallow. "you do?"

"fuck yeah -" he says it with such conviction that you believe him. "the way you look like you read five verses of the bible before bed and sign the cross over your chest before you give head just makes the fact that you want some depraved shit like that fucking sexy."

you shift around on the bench. you feel at once, buoyant with the praise and wrong for liking it so much.

"i dont know if art sees me that way." you fiddle with your fingers. "i think he thinks its gross - that im. weird."

"art is very repressed sexually." patrick states this like he knows this very well. and well, yeah, you cant exactly dispute it, can you. "but he's a fucking freak, trust me. I've seen his porn history."

you want to see his porn history. god. you want to know every depraved undignified thought arts ever had.

"i think that's why i want him to-" you flush. "to do that. because he's so.... good. and i want. i dunno - i guess i want him to act more shameless with me - maybe that weird - like i want to corrupt him or something -"

"it's hot." patrick interrupts. and you look at eachother. and you see a kind of kinship in him, thats in you. a kind of.... love for the depravity. of wanting to introduce people like art to it. "give me your phone."

he takes it from you before you even hand it to him. he fiddles with it, and you take the time to admire all the freckles on his sunkissed cheeks. he slips it back to you. grins.

"what did you do?"

"gave you my number." he stands. shoulders his own bag - caps his waterbottle. "art's gonna chew your ass out in a minute, sorry about that. I'll be in touch, though." and he's bounding down the bleachers before you can say anything, giving art one of those aggressive, half hug, half wrestle moves as he passes.

you blink - startled to realize art has finished up. his bag is over his shoulder and he's making his way up to you. he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"did you give patrick your number?"

"he wanted it for notes he forgot to take, i think." you lie. stand up. greet your boyfriend who you want to piss in your mouth and on your tits, with a kiss. "hes a nice guy."

"mm" is all art says.

-

and maybe you should have been more mad that art went behind your back to talk about something you shared in confidence. maybe you would have been, if you hadn't shared something secret with patrick too - a plan of sorts. you'd feel more guilty about it if you weren't so turned on by the thought.

and can you really be mad, when it works out so beautifully. after one of arts matches - where you'd so sweetly been on the sidelines to give art water between his sets. when patrick had rushed him out the door in the morning with no time for a bathroom break.

its almost too perfect the way you both corner him in the locker room after. when hes desperate and about to burst. bladder full and heavy from all the water he'd consumed.

when patrick blocks him and corners him in the shower, twists his arms behind his naked back, you're there in a flash. a look of betrayal flashes in arts eyes, but its quickly replaced by desperation when patrick reaches around him and grips his cock.

the whine he lets out is long and pained. "no - dont -" he gasps.

you cant really be mad at art for going behind your back at all because you aren't sure if he could ever bring himself to do this on his own. you tell him that, with coaxing hands up his trembling thighs. looking up at him in utter adoration as you tongue the pink slit of his cock. "its okay, baby." you tell him. naked and kneeling before him, licking licking licking at his tip, until you coax out a bead of piss, just a drop. and you moan as you close your lips around his head and suck it into your mouth like honey.

art sobs. he knees wobbling with the force to keep his urine from flooding out into your mouth. "stop -" he pants. "i cant hold it it - if you - if you keep - oh god -"

"she said its okay, man." patrick coos. licks the shell of arts ear. his hand comes down to press against arts pelvis. "look at her." art forces himself to. "thats your girlfriend, dude. she's fucking hot - and shes naked on her knees for you in a lockeroom shower after you fucking dominated that match. and all she wants." the heel of patricks hand digs in. "is to soak up all that piss you've been holding onto for her."

another little drop of piss slides down your throat and art gasps. his hands weakly come to press on your head, fingers curling in your hair. hes giving in. looking down at you with near awe in his expression instead of his earlier fear and panic. pink lips parted.

"dont you wanna see her swallow it?" patrick breathes. "fuckin rub it into her tits - you can do anything to her. she's fucking yours man - so why dont you be a man and fucking stake your claim, huh?"

that's what does it.

art groans, eyes nearly rolling back in ecstacy. right before he releases, he knock away patricks hand from his dick, grips himself by the base, and uses his other hand to keep a grip on your hair.

the tip of his cock, flushed and throbbing, rests on your fat bottom lip, "its coming - " he chokes, tightens his grip on your hair, "fucking take it -"

and then it explodes out of him all at once. a thick pulsing stream of hot piss pours into your mouth, half of it going right down your throat, while the other half splashes down your chin, flooding down your chest, between the valley of your breasts.

the moan art lets out if pornographic. his legs weak as jelly as his bladder unloads in a yellow stream that soaks you nearly from head to foot.

it seems to go on forever. both art and patrick seem entranced by the sight. the way you moan and swallow what initially went down your throat. gasp when it hits your chest like it actually feels good.

art feels another part of his brain click on. whir to life.

"s-stick your fucking tits out." he grunts, still whiney. but you listen anyway. pushing your chest out towards them, your nipples hard and on display.

art bites his lip. angles his cock so the rest of his stream splashes wetly over your hard nipples. he trails the rest of it down your stomach and - most blodly - the last of it hits your pussy - you whine when it does.

"of fuck." patrick grunts when he sees it.

when the flow peeders out, you pant like you ran a marathon. buzzing with electricity.

art looks down at you like you're the most beautiful thing hes ever seen in his life. on your knees soaked in his filth.

patrick has to reach down and grip himself.

"c'mere" art calls to you, holding out his arms. you fumble and stumble into them. wet chest smashing into his. he doesn't seem to care. his hands are feverish as they run down your back. cup and squeeze the globes of your ass. he licks into your mouth and you're both moaning into eachother. tongues smacking wetly.

patrick rolls his eyes. turns on the shower to its hottest setting. which is just warm for a lockeroom shower.

"you two freaks come over here," he calls out, stepping into the warm spray. "you both smell like fucking piss."

you giggle against arts mouth.

yeah. maybe you're glad he told your secret after all.

[johnbrand]

The Stages of Arabization

With @next-pharaoh

“Jeez, it’s so bright here,” Henry oriented his phone up in front of the sun, hoping to block out a few of the direct rays.

“Well, you are closer to the equator,” his boyfriend, Alex, joked. “Dubai is a bit farther south than Boston.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “What would I do without that intelligence of yours?” 

“Too bad you don’t have your own.” They both laughed at that remark. The pair had started dating in graduate school, with Alex venturing down the path of mathematics and Henry following the racial trends of Sub-Saharan Africa. Everyone joked it should have been the other way around, given Henry’s geeky, pale exterior fit the math nerd stereotype better than Alex’s lanky, darker frame. But Henry loved his studies, so much so that he had been invited to a conference in the United Arab Emirates to talk on them.

Suddenly, Henry received an email notification from one of his sponsors. “Dang, looks like I have to get back to work. Just received an essay to review before the next presentation.”

“How long do you have?”

“Barely 30 minutes.”

“Well forward it to me,” Alex replied. “We can tag team it. I know this isn’t my strong suit but at least I can help cover more ground.”

Henry thought that was a great idea. Without a second thought, he redirected the email and wished his boyfriend goodbye. Alex would send his thoughts over text when he had finished.

“‘The Stages of Arabization’,” Henry recited aloud. He was planning to head inside to read–gingers burnt way too easily in the direct sunlight–but he noticed the writing was pretty short. Barely even a page. Henry was surprised to realize the essay was in Arabic, but he quickly utilized a translator app to resolve the issue.

Stage 1: Islamization  Islam becomes the majority religion or state religion.

Strange formatting, but Henry understood the statement as rather truthful. The historically successful Arabizations of Morocco, Algeria, and Egypt had followed a similar suit. Even some of the countries he had studied had shown signs of this progression.

Stage 2: Linguistic Arabization Islam brings fixation on Arabic language, thus the Arabic language becomes central to the society's identity. Arabic becomes the state language.

Henry found this statement agreeable as well. There was something so methodical about the Arabic language, how it melodically ebbed and flowed in such a way that it twirled through the hearing canals directly into the brain. Anyone who listened to it almost became entranced, as if captured by its beauty and awakened by its fluidity. Henry closed the translator app before continuing on. 

Stage 3: Cultural Arabization Arab cultural practices become common due to Islamization. Own cultural heritage is deemed closer to ages of ignorance and thus gradually forgotten and replaced with Islam.

Henry had followed this trend through his research. Many of the countries he had analyzed over the years had demonized their traditional practices once introduced to Islamic culture. It was like watching a child being given a new toy; the original quickly discarded for one deemed far more superior. These assimilations had even started to appear in Henry’s life. Thobes were the new fashion craze among his fellow researchers, midday prayer rooms had taken over labs, and even the cafeteria had become completely halal.

Stage 4: Ethnic Arabization Planned migration of many Arab tribes and deliberate suppression of the numbers of natives, consequently major demographic shift. Media encourages Arabs to multiply and mix.

This too had arrived in the workplace. Rapidly, it had become obvious that the university was prioritizing hiring Arab and Arab-American employees. Political discourse on abortion had suddenly disappeared, instead dropping birth control from medical insurances and advertising “Reversion Through Fertilization”. Luckily, Hussein had not been influenced much by this change. In fact, he almost felt as if he was somehow a part of it.

Stage 5: Fully Arab State Arabs and the Arabized become elite and majority. Non-Arabized are shunned and pressured to revert until no opposition remains.

Hussein smiled with pride, closing the essay he was sure to give high remarks to. His best friend Ali had a similar response, a text from him glowing with praise about the truth in the writer’s words. The essay was eloquent, thought-provoking, and would become mandatory literature at his lab, and soon throughout the reverting world. It reflected the future, similarly to his own phone screen: masculine, virile Arab men. Hussein felt a divine sense of conformity with Islam, one all were soon destined to see.

[moonydustx]

To belong to you

requests | mastelist Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x F! Reader Summary: sequel of A not so funny story. In this one, we see Law dealing with a somewhat stubborn reader, while he can barely deal with his feelings. Warnings: fluffy, a little hotter at the end, violence, Law exposing his feelings (this will always be a warning for me). W/C: 3.5K a/c: tried not to take so long to produce, but I ended up getting carried away by the text. Regarding the smutty, I'm thinking about bringing it to a third part, I believe this one was too big. Hope you like.

requested by anon: ok ok now m waiting for a sequel with an overprotective-clingy-lover emo boy Law who keeps reader at his sight❣️ ~ maybe a smutty? idk just give me some more Law

Part 1 | Part 3 (NSFW)

A week, two days and a few hours.

For a week, two days and a few hours Law's sleep became scarcer - which seemed impossible - at the same time, he seemed to have found a new hobby. You.

Since the fateful day he discovered what he had done, even if unconsciously, Law had made it his duty to be your support point. At the same time, even though he dedicated himself to repairing this mistake, nightmares continued to haunt the little sleep he still had. Some days, it was as if he only revisited the afternoon he saw you hurt. In others, it was as if he was fully aware of what he had done.

You didn't complain about all that attention. Of course, the guilt was clear in his eyes and you wished you could lift such a burden from him, but Law's temperament was already known as irreducible, it was almost impossible for you to become the person who would change that.

Sleep had also left you aside that night. Maybe because you were anxious, the next morning you would be emerging on the next island and you would finally see the sunlight again. Maybe your mind kept playing tricks and unlike the nightmares that Law had, you kept having dreams that were closer and closer to him.

What you had left that night was to catch up on your studies. The small stack of books piled up next to your small green notebook while you had been sitting on one of the cafeteria benches for half an hour facing the same calculation.

"I didn't expect to find company at this hour." Law appeared at the cafeteria entrance. The same tired eyes, but the gentle tone in his voice pleased you. "Sleepless?"

"I've been in bed for a long time this week, Captain. What about you, sleepless?"

"I ended up distracted by reading. I just came to get something to eat." he walked past you, heading over to one of the counters. "Did you remember to drink your tea?"

"Perhaps." you just responded and you could hear him grumble in response. It only took a few minutes for the cup to appear in front of him. "Do I really need to take this? It's horrible!"

"It's a medicine, its function is to be horrible, but to end up curing you." surprising you, he sat next to you. Next to it, a plate with some onigiris. You just looked at Law and your horrible cup of tea. "What?"

"How can such a pretty drink, full of flowers, be so horrible?"

"Drink it." in a way, you knew that his impatient tone at that moment wasn't serious at all. "I promise to reward you."

"Saying it like that, I feel like a child." you grumbled, taking a sip of your drink and trying to avoid the disgusted look on your face. Law, unlike you, seemed to enjoy his late dinner. "Next time, please give me poison. I will die happy."

"Good girl, congratulations." he said, in a cynical tone. Even so, the words pointed to another place in your mind. "I bet it wasn't that horrible."

"Said the one who's gorging himself on onigiri." With your complaint, Law just stretched out the piece he had already taken a bite of.

Maybe your intrusive thoughts, maybe it was just the desire to get the horrible taste out of your mouth, but you accepted what he offered.

She's just taking a piece. Law's mind looped through the seconds you bit the food. The lack of sleep must be playing tricks on him, making him imagine things he shouldn't. Are your lips as soft as they seem?

"So. What are you studying?" Law's brain went blank, searching for the first random topic that crossed his mind.

"Blood. In fact, I took a calculation to do and ended up getting lost. In the book it seems so much simpler."

"Let me see." He set the plate aside and approached your notebook.

Gray eyes looked attentively at each written number and you were busy analyzing it. The smell that came from him was the same as the t-shirt you had worn that day, his eyes had clear dark circles beneath them and even though it wasn't perfectly done, the little beard he had seemed to outline his face and seemed to match the dark tone. of the small piece of his tattoo that showed.

"So…" he began, pointing to the notebook. "Here, you're taking the wrong route. To calculate this type of transfusion, first you have to base it on the patient's weight and then use this formula. See."

You were too distracted by him and he was too distracted by the silly calculation you were so lost in. When he turned to ask if you understood, the only thing he found were your eyes watching him. Just a few centimeters away, his eyes danced between yours and your lips, wondering if the action would be hasty. Maybe it wasn't ideal to take the risk.

"Nerd." You muttered, letting out a small laugh.

"Just smarter than you." he replied, pulling away a little. "Take one more."

"Thank you captain!"

The night passed faster than you expected. Accompanied by Law, you spent most of the night redoing some exercises while he helped you, or at least watched you. And even though sleep hit your body, it was hard to close your eyes and sleep after spending so much time with him.

The morning came quickly and as usual on the days you emerged, you and Bepo were standing just staring at the sun on your skin. Some other companions were already beginning to disembark.

"I found you." Law's voice brought them both out of their little sunbath. "You take care of buying food."

"Ay captain!" Bepo reached out his hand, picking up the berries.

"You." He turned around, looking at you seriously. "No running, no heavy lifting, no long walks."

"All right, boss." you saluted, just to annoy him and watched him leave, without giving much more explanation.

The afternoon passed quickly in the small village. At least in the commercial part of the village, everything seemed very busy and colorful, as well as having huge taverns that you would definitely go to.

In addition to you and Bepo, the two also dragged Clione along for the task, which wasn't enough. Despite the captain's clear warning, you managed to convince Bepo that it was just an idle worry, which ended with you carrying some bags under your back.

"Need help?" the bear climbed Polar Tang first, reaching out to you.

As soon as you appeared in the Heart Pirates captain's field of vision, you knew you were in trouble. The blue dome enveloped you and soon the weight lifted from your back. Instead, two small flowers appeared on the ground.

"It seems the two of them decided to ignore my warning." Law grumbled as you picked up the two colorful branches that were at your feet.

"My fault, there's no need to fight him." you took the lead, going to where Law was standing. Around him, in addition to the bags he had taken from you, were a few small bouquets of plants and flowers, all as colorful as the city they had just visited. "What are these?"

"Just a few missing ingredients can become medicine, tea, ointments." he bent down, plucking a small yellow flower and handing it to you. "Something tells me your favorite is this one."

"Oh, God no." the image of last night's horrible tea came to mind. you held the flower up to your nose. The sweet smell was delicious, but just remembering the taste made your stomach turn. "It's so beautiful, but so bad." you made to return it, seeing him raise his hand and deny it.

"It is not necessary."

"Thanks." you laughed, pinning the small flower to the zipper of your jumpsuit.

"Captain." two humming voices came towards you. "What do you think about going to a bar today?"

"You can go." he responded to Shachi and Penguim, who were not convinced and joined in a chorus of please. "I'm not in the mood."

"Please, Captain. The town seems nice, I bet the bars are too." you joined the other two, interceding.

You knew that Law wasn't the most sociable person in the world, but if there was something you could boast about, it was your power of persuasion - which you hadn't yet realized only worked on him.

"Okay, okay." he gave up, seeing the three of you cheer up and Bepo shouting happily in the background. "However, no alcohol for you."

"Yet?" you grumbled, but his expression already made the answer clear. Your power of persuasion wouldn't work this time.

You weren't the type to take alcohol seriously enough for it to bother you, just going to a new place would be good enough for you. As soon as night fell, you started getting ready. As much as you wanted to wear something lighter, you didn't know how comfortable you would feel showing the scar on your leg, even though it was already partially healed, it wasn't such a pretty sight. You put on pants and a simple, comfortable blouse and headed towards the bar with Ikkaku.

Law watched you from afar. Unlike most of the women there, you weren't balancing on thin heels or with a face so adorned with colors that made your real expression disappear. You were you.

He saw you sit at one of the tables with the other companions. Everyone with drinks in front of them, except you. He could use some alcohol on him to give him the courage he lacked, but he knew it would be unfair. Ignoring the judgmental looks, he ordered two glasses of juice and took them to the table, looking for a place to sit.

"No vodka?" Ikkaku looked at the cup in front of you and the cup in front of the captain. "This is new."

"I'm banned until further notice." you replied, raising your glass to toast your captain. "At least someone had compassion on me."

"So cute." Ikkaku cheered and you surreptitiously tried to elbow her. "So, I saw people playing in the background. She can play, right captain?"

"As long as she doesn't bet Polar Tang." he replied, a shy smile on his lips. As much as he didn't admit it out loud, something woke up in him when the two of you were in some way related. "I think betting a mink could make some good money." he turned to Bepo, who immediately complained.

"Never!" you stood up, placing yourself next to Ikkaku and picking up your glass. "I'll be right back, I'll take the money from some idiots." you smiled, turning your face towards your captain. A soundless thank you left your lips, as you pointed to the glass in your hands.

Law tried to disguise it, tried to ignore your presence. It was as if your body had some kind of magnet, which made it find you in the midst of so many people who crowded into that bar.

The first time he looked at you, you and Ikkaku were side by side singing something that he couldn't hear from where he was, around you some other people were singing and others were playing cards. He could see some looks that bothered him. Why did they look at you like that? Law could feel the repulsion of those men, even from a distance.

The second time, the two of you seemed to be dealing the cards. A man next to you, one of the same ones who was looking at you, seemed to whisper something in your ear that seemed to have offended you. The expression soon disappeared from your face, returning to a calm expression. At that moment, Law could feel his body tingle and had to suppress the urge to make the man's head roll off his body, even though he had no idea what he had said to you.

The third time, the only thing Law saw was your head being pushed against the table, after that he only saw red and pure hatred in front of him. The other crew members with whom he shared the table only noticed a small playing card slowly fall towards the upholstery.

This time you hadn't stolen in the game but apparently some bastard decided you were hiding some cards. You felt your head against the table and you could hear Ikkaku swear. You could easily get out of there and reach for your dagger hidden in your boot, you could also trip and see the guy hit his own head against the table. You knew you wouldn't need to do anything when you saw a blue dome appear in front of you.

Unlike the many times you had seen him fight, Law didn't use his sword or his devil fruit. His hands reached for the man, twisting his arm and slamming his head against the table, ten times harder than what had been done to yours. The other man, who was restraining Ikkaku, immediately released her.

"What happened?" he asked and you knew the question was directed at you, even though he kept pinning the man against the table.

"They thought we were stealing in the game."

"He said we would pay for what we stole from him with money or anything else we could offer." Ikkaku added, as you stood up and untied your clothes.

"The bastard likes to threaten others." Law muttered and within seconds, the man's head rolled on the table, as he screamed desperately, not understanding what had happened. Looking around, Law reached for a small knife and immediately stuck it to the side of the man's head. "Next time I see you, I won't need to use any power to rip your head off."

Law walked away, his eyes immediately searched for you. You had your back to him, checking to see if your friend had gotten hurt.

"Are you two okay?" he walked closer, searching for any signs of injury on the two of you. At that point in the fight, the entire crew was already gathered alongside.

"It's okay captain, it was just that asshole. The others tried to help us." Ikkaku explained.

"Understood." He tried to calm things down, still thinking about what that stupid guy could have done if, for some moment, you had left his sight.

"For today, that's enough." you sighed, trying to give your best smile, which with all the stress caused, seemed impossible. "I'm going back to Polar Tang. I think today's activities tired me out."

You lied, blatantly. You weren't tired, on the contrary. The whole fight, Law showing up to defend you, that had lit you up. The only question that was going through your head was where Law's anger had come from. It wasn't the first time you ended up fighting with someone in a bar and every time Law would just laugh a little or if things got out of hand, He gave a little fright to anyone who even touched his crew. Today the gray eyes that accompanied you so much appreciate you full of fury.

"I'll join you. You guys, enjoy." Law took out some berries and placed them in Ikkaku's hand. "The next rounds are on me."

Bepo made to accompany you two, but was stopped by his friends. They seemed to see the entire situation clearer than the two of you ever would.

The walk to the submarine was quiet, much quieter than you were used to. Despite the beat, your head didn't hurt besides the fact that you saw Law analyze every inch of you after the argument.

Even after entering Polar Tang, silence prevailed between the two of you, it bothered you a lot more than you tried to show. Taking much smaller steps than Law's, you tried to catch up to him before he locked himself in his room and then you'm will only see him the next morning.

"Hang on!" You tried to follow him and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had heard you. "Captain!"

"I don't want to talk about it right now." he replied, stopping in front of his room.

"I am sorry but no." you replied and understanding that perhaps you had a discussion too serious to have there in the middle of the corridor, you just indicated the door behind him. "Let's just talk, just five minutes of your attention, okay?"

He could feel the blood boil in his veins, the words burned in Law's throat. Damn that damn bar, damn all the things that still haunted his mind. He had fallen, and fallen hard.

"I understand." you leaned the door behind you, keeping your arms crossed. "I understand all your concern, I mean, you have been carrying a burden that is not yours."

"No?" he laughed, almost cynically. "I won't apologize for that."

"What about all that at the bar?" you asked, approaching him. "About almost killing a guy over a card game."

"He was hurting you." the words came out of his mouth, bluntly.

You stopped a few centimeters away from him, watching him. You wanted to sound intimidating, you wanted to impose yourself on him, but it was him. It was the serious eyes looking down on you, the posture, the smell that emanated from him. As much as your brain tried to deny it, something in you liked - almost needed - Law to protect you.

"You know I'm not that fragile, right?" You held his arms, looking for even the slightest reaction. "I don't break so easily, if that's what makes you worry about me so much."

Law wished he had more time to plan, he wished he hadn't been as close to you as he was last week. That cat and mouse hunt between the two of you worked for a long time. It worked when he watched someone talk for too long over you and he chose to leave his jealousy aside, it worked when he watched you fight so many times and chose not to intrude, it worked when he saw your curves marked by any other clothes you wore ,except the crew's overalls, and he had to try his best not to look. It worked, sentence passed, something left aside.

"I like you." he began, the words coming out like relief from his lips. "I like you and to be honest, I don't know how to deal with it."

"Why not?"

"We are pirates, I have enemies, people who can use this to target me." he pointed to the space between the two of you. "I don't know if I can handle this, damn, I could barely hold my own against a drunk at the bar. I like you too much to risk you."

Just like the day he had seen you injured, his hands found your face, holding it as if it were the most precious thing Law had ever laid his hands on.

"I have a proposal." your hands found his, caressing them. "Here, in this room, just here it will be Law and me. Without all the worries of a captain, without all the responsibilities of a crew member, without fears. Just you and me, one belonging to the other. No one needs to know."

You wanted to say that maybe it wouldn't work and that maybe the two of you would just come out of this story more broken. You could also say that you would understand if he hated the idea. Before any words found the sound of the room, your lips were stolen by his.

None of Law's thoughts matched what he was feeling. Your lips giving way so he could taste a little of you. Your hands left his and spread out over the small gap in the open shirt he wore. Every inch of your body still seemed small for him to explore, his hands went down to your waist, almost merging his body with yours. He could stay there, in that room trapped with you for days. Damn the life of a captain, damn all the rationality he valued so much, you were more than enough.

"So…" you moved a few millimeters away from him, looking for just enough space to catch your breath.

One of his hands went up to your chin, one of his fingers running over your swollen and red lips in an almost sinful caress. How long did he wait to be like that?

One of his hands tangled in your hair, gently squeezing it so you could give him space. Law's lips - now warmer than when they first touched you - ran down your neck. You wouldn't take Law for an avid lover, but the way he held your body to his said completely the opposite.

"I accept your proposal." His low voice whispered next to your ear. His mind took him to dark places, but a little rationality still kept him lucid. "But maybe, maybe we should stop for now."

"No, we shouldn't." Serene eyes looked at him, but the malice in your words was clear.

"Yeah, we shouldn't."

[fettuccin-e]

Hey! Congrats again on your follower milestone! <3

From the smutty prompts, can you do number one from the nature category with Miguel, please? :))) xoxo

Hi!!! omg this prompt is soooo soft and sweet and MIGUEL FUCKING DESERVES IT!!! so thank you so so so much for requesting this is some sappy crap that i had just a grand ol time writing!!!

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, established relationship, outdoor sex (but they are literally the only ones there so no exhibitionism), unprotected piv (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), riding, sappy very cheesy very fluffy many cavities (w/c: 1.1K)

Prompt: sensual sex in a secluded meadow during a picnic. 

He doesn’t like to go away often, but sometimes, the need to just spoil you gets to be too much. He’s away from you far too much, burying himself in work and experiments, to the point that he’s sure you’ll leave him. But you’re always there, waiting for him with a beaming smile and reaching for him like he never left.

So of course he has to spoil you.

It didn’t take LYLA long to find this dimension at his request: one where New York is empty, Central Park grown over the entirety of the city, the pavement covered in soft flowers, and skyscrapers covered in creeping vines. And God, you had practically glowed when he showed you the little picnic he had set out, a soft blanket nestled in a little grove of wildflowers, a rainbow of petals and leaves covering the lush earth. A little piece of paradise just for the two of you.

“I didn’t, um,” he stumbles over his words, heart beating out of his chest at how fucking beautiful you look, eyes alight as you look up at him with a gaze so adoring, his knees might give out on the spot. “I just brought some food from the cafeteria, since I can’t cook for shit and I um- I wanted to surprise you.”

You collide into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs as you kiss him fiercely. “It’s perfect, Miguel,” you murmur against his lips, “absolutely perfect.” He feels like you're talking more about him than the picnic, but smiles nonetheless.

You feed him little bits of fruit and empanada from the cafeteria back home, but he swears that it tastes so much better from your loving hand. He feels a little out of place here, crushing flowers beneath his hulking body. But you’re ethereal, little butterflies flitting around you, drawn to you, just as he is.

He recklessly plucks a purple flower from the ground, the prettiest one he can find, and tucks it behind your ear. Hobie would tease that he’s getting soft, but the way you giggle, light and airy and effervescent, makes his chest tight with delirious happiness, and it’s all worth it.

You meet his lips in a gentle kiss, and you taste of the strawberries he brought for you. You’re so warm, warm like pure sunlight in his hands and he can’t help but pull you into his lap, picnic forgotten, holding you like you’ll disappear in a moment. But you break from his lips, cupping his jaw and smiling in a soft, gentle way that feels like you’re here to stay forever.

He peels your dress off, slowly and deliberately, kissing down your jaw, your neck, your tits, as he bares your body to his gaze. He only takes his own clothes off when you beg him for it, rucking his shirt up over his stomach as you whine into his mouth.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and your breath catches in the back of your throat as he rubs gentle circles into your clit over your panties. “So beautiful, can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers, and with the way he’s playing with your pussy, the only thing you can do is desperately lick into his mouth as you rock your hips into his hand.

You lean into him, pushing on his shoulders ever so gently as you lay him back onto the plush blanket. He could fight back, push you onto your back instead, but something about this, the sun shining on your hair, the way you taste, how soft you are in his hands; it’s all making him melt back into the flowers as you lean over him. I can have this, he thinks to himself, I’m not going to lose this. There’s no rush.

When you eventually pull your panties to the side, letting him sink into you ever so slowly, Miguel is sure that he’s found heaven. You’re practically shining, an angel in real-time, as you roll your hips forward, clenching around him as you rake your nails down his chest in a way that makes him gasp beneath you. 

“God, look at you,” you say, before it tapers off into an agonized whine as Miguel’s cock plunges into you just right. “So perfect for me, treating me so fucking- ah, good.”

Miguel grasps desperately at your hips, trying to help you as you drop onto him over and over and over again. Your praise makes him whine, his hips jerking up to plunge into you even deeper as his mind goes fuzzy with need. ”Can’t believe you’re mine Miguel," you whimper, "Can’t believe you chose me.”

He lunges up on his arms at your words, pressing his lips to yours in a sticky kiss that has the both of you moaning in tandem. “I’ll always choose you, princesa. Mi vida, eres mi vida.”

The grove is quiet, the obscene sounds of your bodies meeting over and over mixing with the sounds of his groans as you fuck yourself on his cock. You practically wail when his calloused fingers come to rest on your achy clit, rubbing hard, slow circles that have your head spinning. His cock reaches so deep like this, stretching you out, owning you in only the way that he can.

“You going to cum for me, beautiful?” he husks, sounding like he’s just run a marathon. “C’mon, baby, soak my cock with this pretty pussy.” You’re nodding furiously, bouncing desperately on his fat cock as he rubs your clit just fucking right-

You gasp, soundless and overwhelmed as you cum around him, leaning forward to kiss him, hoping to ground yourself with his mouth. Miguel curses against your lips, mumbling something in Spanish as he pulls his hand away from your clit to wrap around your back, like he can’t possibly get close enough.

He thrusts up into you once, twice, before stilling with his own orgasm. You imagine that you can feel him filling you up, claiming you in the most intimate way possible.

You break the kiss, pressing your forehead against his as you both catch your breaths. As he blinks up at you again, eyes round like he can’t believe that you’re actually here, that it wasn’t all a dream, you can’t help but giggle softly, pecking him quickly on the lips.

And he smiles, in the only way he does with you. No holds barred, unabashed happiness radiating off of him. “I love you,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. You breathe together, letting the calm coolness of the air rush over you both, the sounds of the breeze rustling the flowers and trees, the incessant beating of your hearts.

This is home, Miguel thinks, wrapping you tighter in his arms, I’m finally home.

[haodore]

cool guy? · park gunwook

summary. after some encouragement by his classmates, park gunwook decides to go up to you and confess something · high school au

park gunwook x reader · fluff · 1k words · masterlist

As the sunlight peeked through the trees and poured through the classroom window, you found it relaxing, yet blinding. You were squinting, trying to see what was written on the board, but you could only vaguely make out the large letters written at the top—something about preparing for summer break.

You put a hand above your eyes, blocking the sun so you could write down as much as you could before the bell went off for lunch. You wrote down a mere five words before you heard the shrill ring, and began rushing to get as much done as you could.

With a sigh, you pulled out your phone, deciding to take a picture and write down the rest during lunch instead.

After picking up your things, you made your way into the crowded hallway, pushing past students and slowly making your way to the cafeteria. You had your own lunch so you just tucked yourself into a relatively empty corner of the room, pulling out your food and your notebook.

It wasn’t long before you heard the chattering voices begin to float closer, and a once empty table was now occupied by a friend group. You tried your best to ignore them and let the sounds of their voices blend with the rest of the noise of the cafeteria, but they were simply too close and too loud. You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated at the lack of work you were able to get done today.

You reached into your backpack, pulling out your headphones so that you could play your studying playlist, and just as you had popped one side into your left ear, you heard a certain familiar word. A name—your name.

Your head snapped up, and you looked at the group ahead of you, finding that a few of the boys sitting at the table in front of you were looking at you discreetly. They quickly looked away, eyes darting around as they tried to pretend they weren’t looking at all. What were they doing?

You noticed one boy in particular who was sitting at the end of the table, the perfect spot for you to see his side profile. His cheeks and ears were dusted pink, as he spoke rapidly to his friends. It was kind of cute, actually. You had never seen him like this. Park Gunwook was usually the type that looked so confident in everything he did. He was the cool guy.

For a moment, he glanced at you, looking panicked when he noticed that your gaze hadn’t shifted yet. You looked back down to your notebook, confused at the current events. Why were you the topic of their conversation?

You decided to leave out one of your headphones so that you could listen in, but they were talking quieter now. You felt so awkward and seen knowing that they were probably looking at you. This type of attention wasn’t something that you ever gravitated to. In fact, you tried to avoid it.

By the time you realized that you hadn’t gotten any more work done, you heard footsteps coming towards you, and then you saw someone in your peripherals. When you looked up, Gunwook was standing there, looking far less confident than he usually did.

The moment your gaze fell on him, he looked away awkwardly, and then pointed to the seat opposite to you. “Can I sit here?”

Startled at the question, your mouth fell open for a moment, but you then said, “go ahead.”

When he sat down, there was a a small awkward silence between the two of you, followed by some groans from his friends, one of them even face palming.

“I like your pen.” You saw him pointing to the pen in your hands, which had a cat on the top of it. “It’s cute.”

You pursed your lips, suddenly feeling embarrassed that he noticed the pen. You shifted it around in your fingers, glancing at him. “Thanks.”

Before another awkward silence could fall over the two of you, you spoke next. “I like your shoes.” You tapped the table with your pen. “They’re nice.”

“Thank you.” He said, startled. Somehow his face turned more red. “I- yeah, they’re new.” He nodded. “Anyway, I was thinking…”

You looked down at your notebook, holding back a smile at the way Gunwook was acting. It was strange, seeing someone who always looked to collected, now acting so flustered.

Gunwook put his hand on the back of his neck, dropping his head down as he refused to look you in the eye. “Did you… maybe… uh, hold on— how about— could we maybe—“

“Is he serious? All that pep talk for nothing?” You heard one of his friends murmur in the background.

“Do you want… to go out sometime?” Gunwook mumbled out.

Now, as you sat in front of the boy you’ve been secretly crushing on for months, you felt your heart skip a beat. Your mouth fell open in shock, and the loud cafeteria was no longer bothering you.

Gunwook looked more nervous as the seconds ticked by, hearing nothing but your silence, but before it became too late and he started to make an excuse, you rushed out a response. “I would love that.”

Now Gunwook’s expression was mirroring yours, before he broke out into a delighted smile, his cheeks still tinted red. “Okay.” He nodded, trying to lessen his smile and… is he trying to act cool? “Yeah, okay. Sounds good. Uh, could I get your number?”

You smiled, writing your number onto the bottom corner of the page in your notebook, and ripping it off to give to Gunwook. He took it from you, unable to get rid of his smile. “I’ll text you later than.” He stood up, his hands held behind his back like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Okay.” I smiled feeling the same joy I saw in him.

When Gunwook returned to his table, some of his friends pat him on the back, and said some form of congratulations for not blowing it.

By the end of the day, you had received a message.

Hey, it’s Gunwook. You free Friday?

@ haodore

[denwritesandcries]

Later you'll laugh about this – H.C

Pairing: loser!hazel x fem!reader

Summary: Later you would say that you only got into this stupid situation because of a cotton candy. PJ and a cotton candy. A goddamn cotton candy you bought for Hazel Callahan.

Word count: 4,3k.

Content: cursing, fake dating, pining, kinda angst, insecure!loser!hazel, toxic situationships, dialogues. lots of dialogues, reader having a beef with pj, idiots in love.

Note: This fic is supposed to have 3 chapters, I didn’t mean it to be so long but I couldn't stop adding new things to the story and now it's a series cause it got out of control. So basically, Hazel is a loser and the reader is a loser for her. That's it. That's the plot.

English is not my first language.

>>

Coming across Hazel's sad face pressed against the precariously clean table you always sat at in the cafeteria, with her puppy eyes seeming to wander forlornly every damn day was becoming really depressing.

“I… I simply don’t understand.” Hazel starts and you let out a tired sigh when you turn your head to follow her gaze and find PJ gesturing to Josie in the lunch line, because of course she would be talking about this. Again. “It’s been weeks since the game and she just acts like nothing happened between us.”

Stella-Rebecca squeezes her shoulder in solidarity and you all exchange a knowing look without her noticing. None of this is really new, but it's getting more and more painful to watch now.

“I thought she liked me too, but lately she’s just acting like…”

You sip your juice audibly, absentmindedly nibbling on the straw in the box: “A bitch?”

Hazel gasps in alarm, “I wasn’t going to say that!”

You notice Sylvie stifle an incredulous laugh next to her as Isabel scolds you with a slap on the shoulder.

“Ouch! 'M sorry, Haze, but we've talked about this before.” You say gently, brushing aside a strand of dark hair that has fallen on her face. “PJ is a bitch. She's a bitch to everyone who's not Josie and especially to you, it's always been like this. You can do better.”

“Like who?” she whines and you huff.

Maybe it might seem a little rude the way you're talking now, but Hazel is your best friend and you've been having this conversation for months, even before the fight club, and it seemed impossible to give her any advice and talk some sense into her head. After the game with the big fight against Huntington and your group of friends grew, things only got worse, because now there are finally more people to hear about her longtime passion.

It turns out that there is no one to listen to you about your long-time passion for her.

It's ridiculous, sitting here next to your best friend, listening to her talk about another girl. The girl she likes.

Still, all you really take into consideration is the way her eyes shine against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the way her hair falls in thick, unruly locks across her face, the way she rolls up her sleeve of the colorful jacket wrapped nervously around her wrist and the dreamy, yearning tone of voice with which she speaks so desperately about what ails her.

Isabel turns her attention to Hazel, looking almost apologetic: “Y/N is right. You have a crush on her since, what, third grade? And she’s being a bitch with you even after you guys made out in front of, like, the entire town.”

Annie leaned on her elbows to join in the conversation, holding a half-bitten apple in her hand indignantly: “She’s literally acting like a straight guy!”

Everyone at the table looked at her at that.

“What? It's true! She’s giving all those confusing signs: sticking her tongue on your throat after barely apologizing for calling your mom a whore, being nice with you for a while and then getting right back to her bitch act without giving you a word about it.” Annie rolled her eyes, “Aren’t gay people supposed to be more mature than that or whatever?”

Hazel shrank even more in place: “Guys, please.”

“Girl, what are you even talking about—”

“You could, you know…” You rest your chin on your palm, “Ask her what you guys are.”

Hazel seemed to suffer in anticipation just imagining this, “I don't want her to move further away and stop being my friend by insinuating anything. I just wanted her to be nicer.”

You shrug, looking away from her tiredly to unwrap your grilled cheese, “Then I’m afraid everything will stay exactly as it is, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, way to show some self-respect, Haze.” Annie added sarcastically.

Hazel dropped her weight back against the table, putting her face in her hands dramatically and you silenced everyone when you saw Josie and PJ coming towards the table, pulling Hazel a little closer and putting your arm around her back to push her away when PJ sat on the other side of her.

You change the subject quickly and you choose to ignore the look Isabel and Brittany exchange as Hazel gratefully leans into your touch.

“Why are you whining like that?” PJ asks, looking disdainfully at the scene. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

You thought you could get through the rest of the day, or at least your lunch, without any more arguments, but that unfortunately doesn't seem to be the case.

“Leave her alone, PJ.”

Hazel sighed, finally sitting up straight to cast a disgusted expression at the tray in front of her.

“I would,” she said, “but now my fries are all cold and limp and the texture gives me shivers.”

Already feeling another nasty comment coming, you decide to interrupt quickly, shrugging: “I’ll trade you for my grilled cheese.”

Hazel immediately brightens: “Really?”

You can't regret your impulsive decision when she looks so cute like this, pushing the package towards her and giving a little smirk in response to PJ's annoyed look.

“Yep,” you highlight the P at the end of the word, “I'm sure.”

Mind you, it's not that you hate the girl exactly. It's just that you hate the way she treats your best friend, which makes you not like being around her most of the time.

And maybe – just maybe – you're a little bitter, because you make a point of giving her a smug look from across the table to the sound of Hazel's excited exclamation of 'you're the best!'.

Your lunch goes without a hitch other than your sad fries and Isabel's eyes burning holes in your head and you're happy to remain quiet and listen to your friends talk for the rest of the time.

Isabel still looks thoughtful when the bell rings and everyone starts to leave for their respective classes. Luckily, the two of you shared the next period, so you could just go ahead and ask her if she had anything to say.

…Which ended up not being necessary, as Isabel pulled you aside with Hazel as soon as she said goodbye to Josie while you looked at each other in confusion as you were suddenly practically dragged through the hallways under Hazel's protests because that was definitely not the way for her to go to class – and your own too because, damn, the cheerleader had a surprisingly strong grip on your arm.

“Isabel, what the hell are you doing?” You ask, perplexed and worried, narrowly avoiding bumping into a random kid carrying a stack of books.

“You know, Hazel, about your problem,” she blatantly ignores you, “if you want PJ to actually choose to be with you and ask you out for real, you could, like, just make her jealous.”

You don’t know why you’re hearing that, “What?”

Isabel shrugged, “It worked for me and Josie, and we know they think kinda alike.”

Hazel stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway, interested: “I’m listening.”

“Oh man.” You groaned.

Your head is hurting just at the concept of such an absurd idea, with the three of you standing in the empty hallway, talking about some crazy plan.

“Josie only made a real move on me when she saw me getting back with Jeff,” Isabel grimace in disgust as she recalled, “She got all tearful and jealous when the group broke up and I started ignoring her. That made her act.”

Hazel seemed to drink in every word of what she said, nodding her head at the reasoning as Isabel explained it as if it were the most logical thing possible.

You leaned your head against a locker behind you, crossing your arms around your body defensively. If Isabel brought you along for the conversation, it's because you're definitely part of what she's planning.

“And you didn’t bring this up when we were all arguing about it because…?” You asked.

“I would have said something sooner, but you two were so busy having a moment that I didn't want to interrupt.”

You gave the finger to the sound of Isabel's laughter and Hazel dismissed what she said with a gesture, even though you noticed how red her face turned.

“This is so stupid.”

“It’s brilliant!” Hazel grabbed your shoulder, shaking it excitedly, “It might actually work! What do you have in mind?"

Isabel shrugged, “You just have to, like, get someone to make out sometimes and show it to her face.”

“Like…?” Hazel asked, not understanding what she was getting at.

But you did.

“Like her,” she pointed at you.

“Oh.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

“Oh, but no freaking way!” you exclaimed, face burning with embarrassment, “Don’t bring me into this. It’s not my problem!”

“But didn’t you want to help her?” Isabel asked, sounding too innocent and you realized that this was what she had been planning from the beginning.

“Yeah, with advice!”

This is stupid. This is really so stupid. You should have been in class for a good few minutes now, paying attention to anything on the board and counting down the remaining hours so you could put it all away and leave, because it was Friday, there were no club meetings to be at and it was your movie night with Hazel. That shouldn't change.

“No, she’s right.” Hazel walked in between you, shaking her head in denial: “It’s not happening. I thought about, like, flirting with someone in front of her, maybe making up a date or something.”

“PJ’s not gonna buy this. You, suddenly showing up with someone new? Very desperately obvious.” Isabel pointed out, “Besides, just flirting with someone probably won’t hold her attention long enough.”

She was right. Isabel was painfully right and you knew it. You two, by the way Hazel's expression changed. By the way she seemed to be seriously considering it.

“But I,” she stammered, “I can’t just ask someone to do that for me and use them like that.”

You took a deep breath, “Thank you!”

Isabel cast one last glance between you, before finally raising her hands in yield, “Well, it was only a suggestion. It's just that you guys already act like a couple anyway so I thought it would make more sense.”

She turns and resumes her walk down the now completely empty hallway – only now do you wonder where the hell the monitors were –, leaving you and Hazel standing there like idiots with distraught expressions, before shouting over her shoulder:

“At least it would be more convincing!”

Your movie night starts late and turns into a sleepover because you all got detention for being so late to your periods and now it's too late to be worth going home anyway, so you stay.

In all the years you've known each other, you've slept at Hazel's house more times than you can count as much as she has at yours, you know this huge place inside out. It's like your own home too. There's nothing weird about curling up in her ridiculously large bed, wearing an old sweatshirt you left there and a pair of sleep shorts she lent you, pulling the covers up so they wrap around you perfectly, and getting as close as possible with her laptop between you, playing some animation on it. Is not strange. It's familiar, it's recurring.

Except it isn't.

There's a tension, a slightly awkward silence that has hung between you since you left school and were alone for the first time since that conversation, that damn conversation, that leaves you nervous and upset with the expectation that something horrible is about to happen and change everything between you. Because Hazel seemed too quiet and thoughtful for someone who wouldn't do anything.

God, you don't like this, this stillness and how it affects you. You don't like how you can't help but notice the way her shoulder presses against yours every time she takes a slow, deep breath, how warm and soft her arm feels where it touches your skin, and how comforting is the weight of her chin resting on your shoulder. You hate it even more to see the soft features of her face illuminated by the blue light of the screen, making you squirm nervously because Hazel is all you can focus on.

And the thing you hate most, without a doubt, is the fact that she must not have noticed any of these things, nor your behavior in general. There's no reason to do it, nothing should be strange to her. Because she doesn't like you that way.

You don't pay attention to a single minute of the movie until it's over and Hazel is moving to turn off her laptop, snapping you out of that trance you've put yourself in without realizing it. She gives you a smile and stretches her arms above her head, tired.

The two of you exchange a few words as you get ready for bed, getting around the elephant in the room, and then you're in bed again, this time without any lights, Hazel staring at the star-decorated ceiling and you with your back turned to her, fidgeting for what feels like the thousandth time and trying your best not to make things even more awkward. Anyway, you can't sleep, even with the tiredness of the day and you know she can't either.

“Hey,” Hazel calls out to you in the darkness, her sleepy voice suddenly startling you. “It was, uhm, really crazy what Isabel suggested, right?”

“Yeah,” You replied hesitantly, turning to her to see what she was getting at: “But you can’t stop thinking about it.”

She hums in agreement to her statement and turns to you as well, keeping her eyes on the sheet.

“It’s just that it seemed too good to pass up the opportunity, you know?” Hazel's hand traces meaningless patterns on the fabric, “As if in those fanfics and books where these things happen, the couple always ends up together and, I don't know, I guess I just felt like I was finally going to give a step and do something about it.”

The way she looks so upset and frustrated breaks your heart and you resist the urge to move even closer and take her hands in yours, seeing Hazel sad feels terribly wrong no matter how many times. You want to help solve her problem. You wish the problem didn't even exist in the first place, but man.

It would be so, so much easier to just be a good friend and support her if you didn't have these stupid feelings bottled up in your chest. Make crazy plans, smile and wave and encourage her to chase the person she wants. It would be enough.

“Things will work out, Haze.” You say it instead, because saying whatever is going on in your head right now might just make everything worse.

“You're right,” she turned around again, gesturing with her hands nervously: “I probably wouldn't even be that good of a girlfriend anyway. I wouldn't know how to plan dates or give gifts, or act all cool and smooth when I'm with her. What if I'm too embarrassing? What if she found me too annoying and ended up breaking up with me?! I think that would be worse. Being romantic seems so hard.”

“I think it should be something unconscious if it’s with someone you really love,” you shrugged, playing with a loose thread on your clothes, “But, no, you’re not like that. I mean, I think you'd be more of the kind of girlfriend who makes thousands of kind gestures to show that she cares without even noticing it, like, writing notes, opening doors, bringing flowers or something. At least I’d like to get flowers, I don’t know.”

Hazel turned her head to you, meeting your gaze hesitantly, with eyes so bright and hopeful that your heart swelled so much it could pop out of your chest at any second.

"You really think so?"

"Yes." You sigh, “Yes, I’m sure.”

The weekend had been relatively peaceful, with you having returned home by the morning after a very bad night of sleep that you spent mainly staring at the ceiling with Hazel sleeping next to you, the rest of the day passed in a blur and now it was Sunday night.

Sunday night and you and your friends were all gathered at the city fair, some event organized purely because there weren't many other ways to entertain yourself living in a small place like that, but there was a lot of junk food and stupid games to spend your money on, so of course everyone always went to it.

Everyone except Hazel, apparently, since she's late and you and your friends are all gathered together, waiting for her. Oh, and there's a cotton candy almost melting in your hand from where you're leaning against Brittany's fancy car.

Later you would say that you only got into this stupid situation because of a cotton candy; PJ and a cotton candy. A goddamn cotton candy you bought for Hazel Callahan.

“Hi, lads!” And there it is the source of your teenage angst.

One look and you know there's something wrong with Hazel. You haven't seen her since that night, but she seems a little distraught, panting and with her hands resting on her knees from running up to you.

“Finally!” Sylvie exclaims, fixing the beanie over her head, “The fair started already, I want to go before they take all the good prizes from the game stalls.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you guys here,” she waves awkwardly and the group dismisses without further comment, you all heading towards the colorful event.

You walk beside her, noticing how nervous and distracted she looks, eyes focused on the floor and hands twirling the rings between her fingers. She doesn't seem to have noticed your presence.

“You're late.” You say, without the expected bite because you're honestly more worried than angry right now.

She squeaks in fright, making some of your friends look over the shoulders to check on you. She recovers quickly, however:

“No, I'm Haze.”

You let out a nasal laugh at the completely adorable, stupid, and alarmed expression on her face. Of course she would answer something like that.

“Here,” you hold out the candy toward her, trying your best to appear indifferent. “I got you one before the line got too long.”

Her jaw dropped a little before breaking out into a shiny smile: “Oh, you've got my favorite!”

You shrug, “Just don’t let anyone throw it away this time.”

“I won’t.” Hazel swears.

She seems to be strangely close to you as you walk together, shoulders side by side, your hand would probably brush hers if it weren't properly hidden in your pockets and Hazel still has that nervous look of someone who has something to say.

You turn your head to her when your friends decide to stop on a stand, frowning and placing a hand on her arm gently.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” You ask and she gulps.

“Yes, uhm,” she clears her throat, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, “It’s just that I really wanted to ask you a favor.”

For a moment you don't even think twice about it, leaning back on her playfully.

"A favor? You know I don't do anything for free Haze,” you smirk, patting her on the shoulder, “Win me a stuffed animal or a goldfish and maybe I'll consider it.”

She doesn't smile and respond wittily like you expect, instead she looks even more shy, shrugging her shoulders as if she wants to disappear and folding her hands comically with the cotton candy behind her back.

“Look, I know we’ve already talked about this, but please.”

Oh, so it's about that then. Seriously.

“Haze,” you sigh.

“Please,” she repeats, “I just need you to—”

And that's when things derail out of your control.

“Guys,” Josie waves, pointing to the others, “let's go before Sylvie picks a fight with the stand dude.”

You hadn't even realized how long you spent standing around talking, but now PJ is staring at you, looking somehow uncomfortable.

“Are you done flirting there? We have more things to do, you know.” She points indifferently.

Hazel looks pleased for a moment, a determined look covering her face, which makes you suddenly nervous. A determined Hazel is an impulsive Hazel.

You clear your throat, “We weren’t.”

PJ rolls her eyes at your response and then she approaches, with Josie watching the exchange hesitantly before taking a step back and resigning herself to returning to her girlfriend, lucky girl.

PJ is too close, in a way that makes that bitter, unfair feeling come back to you, she reaches out to grab Hazel's cotton candy, just like she did at the last fair you all went to.

Except this time Hazel stops her from doing it.

“Hey, don’t.” She takes the candy out of her reach easily, looking upset, “Y/N gave it to me.”

"So what?" PJ protests angrily, “You act like she's your girlfriend or something.”

Oh god.

Hazel looks deep into PJ's eyes for a moment and whatever she was looking for in her expression, she seems to find exactly what she wanted.

“That—”

Oh my fucking god, this was exactly the opportunity Hazel had been waiting for. The opportunity to make an impulsive decision that may or not ruin your friendship.

“—Is because she is.”

You look at her in alarm, grabbing her free hand and squeezing in warning, which perhaps wasn't a smart choice of action for what you wanted to avoid.

“What?” PJ flicks her gaze between you and your hands repeatedly, as if she didn’t expect such a turn of events, “What?”

Hazel lifts her chin and pulls you closer, as if challenging her indignation, but you see the exact moment her breath hitches as you open your mouth to question all of this, her eyes meet yours, nervous and pleading, begging you to just play along.

And then, because that girl in front of you is annoying as fuck, because your best friend is convincing you with her sad puppy eyes, and because you spent 8 dollars on some stupid cotton candy, you stay quiet and let PJ think whatever she wants.

“Fine,” she huffs and turns around, “Whatever.”

You feel Hazel trembling slightly against your grip and she sighs audibly in relief when PJ finally leaves.

“Dude,” her shoulders slump tensely, “Thank yo—”

“Dude?” You repeat in disbelief, dragging her behind the nearest empty corner, “What the fuck were you thinking about?”

Hazel flinches at the sound of your screams, letting go of your hand instinctively, the false confidence from seconds ago immediately disappearing.

“I panicked!” she exclaims.

You inhale deeply, “Haze, I told you not to get me involved in this.”

“I know, I'm sorry,” she looks away, completely embarrassed and you notice that she inevitably dropped the candy along the way as she reaches her hands out to grab both of yours. They're cold and sweaty against your skin.

You know she didn't mean any wrong and you can't stay mad at her anyway.

“Why didn’t you talk to me again before making a scene like that?” You ask, as softly as you can.

"I was trying! That's what I was going to ask you. I—” She lets out, “Ineedyoutobemygirlfriendforawhileplease!”

It came out too quickly and all as if it was a single word, but you're sure you didn't get it wrong.

Hazel keeps talking to stop you from protesting – which is exactly what you were about to do –, letting go of your hands and gesturing:

“I had even prepared a speech to convince you that it was actually a good idea, seriously! It would only be for a while, just a little. But I was desperate because earlier Stella-Rebecca told me that Josie told Isabel that PJ is interested in that short cheerleader who just joined the club and I wanted to cry because I'm losing my chance and wha—”

“Haze, sweetheart,” you interrupt, grabbing her shoulders to stop her, “Slow down, okay?”

She mumbles another silent apology, squeezing the rings between her fingers and you don't know what to do. There's a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach from when Hazel pulled you close earlier, almost protectively, when she stated that yes, you two were a thing, and for a moment you think about being able to have moments like that with her every day, in her acting like this around your friends and you showering each other with affection all the time and a yearning in the back of your mind to show her that you could actually be a good partner for her.

“It was… it was pretty ridiculous, my speech,” she begins again, “I was going to say something like 'come on, don't you want to think about this a few years from now and be able to laugh and brag about how you were the one who helped put together your friend with her crush like that?'” Hazel chuckles awkwardly, “But I think it sounds too arrogant.”

Hazel tugs at the sleeves of her sweater anxiously when you don't answer, it's been getting a little cold lately and she's wearing the sweater you gave her for her birthday last year. You feel yourself giving faster than you could think.

“You know I wouldn’t ask that to hurt you, right?” she questions hesitantly and you instantly know it's true. “I just wanted to show that I’m worth it.”

You sigh, defeated, “You’re worth it, Haze.”

Hazel looks at you hopefully as you take her hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling her into the crowd.

"Let's do this." You agree.

Screw it. Maybe you'll laugh about this later.

[bambisnc]

killing me softly [ft. p.hn]

-> recap : but when you call hanni a little later, you’re met with an automated response. the number you have dialed is currently busy. please try again.

pairing : bsf!hanni x f!reader genre : angst uwu cw/tw : THERES A LOT OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS JUSTICE FOR MY BBG MOKA + swearing + uneditted + hints of reader being possessive/jealous + surprise iroha/moka/nwjns members appearance! <3 wc : 0.7k

over the days following the new girl incident as your friend group refers to it, you’ve found yours and hanni’s relationship having … become a little strange. 

maybe it’s just that you don’t reach out to her as often; texting her only when absolutely necessary and spending recess holed up in your own classroom instead of near the school roof where the two of you used to meet earlier.

obviously you do realize how your actions can somewhat be compared to a stereotypical toxic manhwa boyfriend. 

but does that mean you’ll try to be better?

no.

it isn’t too much to expect her to be the one to approach you, right?

granted it’s not like she’s stopped trying to hang out completely (it’s more you who’s been rejecting her ideas..) but the little time you spent with her at school is now being taken up by her. moka.

the last you remember having visited her class, she greeted you with a signature, disarming hanni smile. 

“y/n! i’ve been meaning to go to your section – um, moka actually needed a lab coat for chemistry; you know how strict professor bae is… so could you-”

“yeah sure,” you had replied back with all the ease in the world, “drop by whenever. i’ll need it by 7th period though so..”

moka had held out 2 thumbs up towards you then, “of course! i’ll make sure to give it back to you by then!”

…

she, in fact, did not give it back to you by then.

“you’re so lucky i had my old one in my locker…” minji reprimands you, “what were you thinking when you just gave yours away?? yeah sure professor bae may be strict; but he’d never have said a thing to a new student.

you, on the other hand, very well would end up DEAD if he caught you without one. Again.”

really, how could you even defend your decision? the one time you remembered to bring your own lab coat, you decided to let someone borrow it, who, coincidentally ended up never getting it back to you.

more importantly, this only farther distanced you and hanni. 

she still texts you of course, but you have noticed how less frequent the ping! of the notification sound you set for her has become.

-

then one lunch break, she shows up. right outside your classroom. 

you go out to meet her, of course, but you make sure to drag minji out with you .. for emotional support.

but the second she sees kang haerin she’s quick to slip away shouting out a “best of luck btw! <3”

oh she’s so in for it later.

“y/n! how was your biology test today?” 

you respond to hanni as neutrally as you possibly can because at that moment you can only think about how neither of them have yet returned your lab coat.

“… hey.” she takes one of your hands into her own, “is everything okay? um. do you want to tag along with me to the cafeteria?”

you huff out a laugh, “have you just met me hanni?” because she knows how much you don’t like the cafeteria. 

she’s silent for a little. 

“yeah. 

it feels like i have just met you y/n...”

you pull away your hand from hers and stand with your back pressed against the wall.

a fresh sound of pleasant chatters brings you back to reality. 

minji’s here! praise all the gods. 

as she and the others she’s brought with her, haerin, danielle and hyein, entangle both of you into conversation, you find yourself sliding down until you’re sat down on the cold floor.

you close your eyes letting the harsh sunlight wash over your skin. 

.. something knocks against your arm, then. and there’s a sudden rush of cool air.

opening your eyes shows you none other than hanni, sitting next to you, fanning you with her (chemistry) notebook. 

when your eyes meet hers, both of you burst into peals of laughter. 

-

you walk hanni back to her class when the bell signaling the end of your time together (recess) rings. 

moka and … iroha? greet her at right at the door. 

“hanniii,” iroha says, throwing an arm around your best friend’s shoulder, “i can’t believe you left your ~girlfriend~ moka here all alone… she’s been pining after you for ages now~”

you quietly slip out before you can hear her response.

notes : um so u guys best be praying for me and bsf to work things out or else no happy endinf 🤷🤷 + [m.list] song rec : te quiero - kissoflife again yes <3

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes

Yandere!Wriothesley who meets you after you get sentenced to Meropide for some obscure rule engrained in the footnotes of Fontaine's lawbooks. The only conversation you share with him in your first few weeks at Meropide is a brief chat over food at Coupon Cafeteria. Despite his seemingly aloof personality and gruff exterior, his overcast-grey eyes shine with brief moments of sunlight. You've intrigued him.

Over your stay at Meropide, you find yourself chatting with Wriothesley more and more. Whether it be after finishing a shift in the Production Zone, sitting down for a meal, or walking back to the dormitories, you keep finding yourself running into him. Whenever he sees you, there's a brief moment of levity in his expression, his eyes piercing into you with their gaze.

Before long, your sentence is almost up. Your bags are packed, good-byes to new friends have been said, and promises to write have been made.

Then you get asked to report to the Duke's office.

Your heart is pounding as you're escorted in. Wriothesley is behind the desk, arms and legs crossed, an impassive expression blanketing his face before he notices you. He gestures for you to sit down, clearing his throat after the silence in the air starts to stagnate. "Care for some tea?"

You shake your head, confused as to what this is about. "No thank you, Your Grace," you respond politely.

After a sip of tea, Wriothesley waves his hand. "Don't call me by that title. Wriothesley is fine,"

You nod, and he seems pleased. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've asked you to come here today," he starts, interlacing his fingers and fixing his gaze onto you. Another nod from you, your eyebrows knit and face filled with confusion this time. "Well, I'm sorry to say that your sentence is being extended."

There is a quiet that rings in your ears like tinnitus after this statement is said, before words spill from your mouth. "Wh-wha...I...h-how?" You ask, truly dumbfounded.

Wriothesley crosses his arms again, tilting his head. "Destruction of the prison's property is a punishable offense. When guards went to check your room today as part of your release, they found multiple items, damaged. So, your sentence is being extended for the next six months."

When you open your mouth to protest, knowing it couldn't have been you, Wriothesley is quick to interrupt you. "Furthermore, in addition to your sentence being extended, I'll be personally monitoring your actions to ensure another...mishap like this doesn't occur."

You feel tears threatening to peak out of the corners of your eyes, shaky breaths escaping your lips. Everything that you've worked for above the surface, your job, your home, your friends and family, all of them are slipping away like sand in your hands.

Wriothesley sees this disconsolate expression, and his stern eyes soften. "I know how difficult this must be," he says, sliding a grey handkerchief across his desk, allowing you several moments to compose yourself. "I wish I didn't have punish you for this. I don't believe you'd do something like this, but it seems impossible for anyone else to have done it," he explains, sighing.

Another silent moment passes, before Wriothesley continues speaking. "A guard will escort your to your new room assignment. I'll come visit you after you've settled in. You may leave."

After the door is shut and Wriothesley is alone in his office, the corners of his lips quirk up. You had no idea. No idea how he was instantly hypnotized by you. No idea how he knew your schedule inside and out. No idea how much he wanted to love you, and how much he wanted you to love him.

This was only a necessary step. After he had ripped you from your roots and transplanted you into a better pot, once you had shed away the life you lived on the surface and embraced his love and affection, it would all be better. He would make sure of it.