#& someone brought up this really great professor

[adarkroomandawallflower]

.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part one part two part three

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in—made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds. 

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar. 

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck. 

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!” 

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on. 

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double. 

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected. 

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.” 

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor. 

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive. 

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.” 

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath. 

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed? 

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” 

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts. 

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him. 

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had. 

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.” 

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard. 

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end. 

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.” 

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin. 

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure. 

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable. 

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second. 

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

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[papercorgiworld]

Boyfriend material

Reader is starting the new year in search of a little fun and a boyfriend. Pansy helps here pick the right outfit and guy.

For Blaise, Theo and Mattheo this will be a two part ‘porn with plot’ thing. This is part one and holds the plot. No Enzo part two, because apparently I can only write so much smut before my brain goes brrrr. Sorry.

I added a part 2 for Enzo!

Warning: reader has a little dirty make out daydream. Slytherin dudes have some naughty thoughts as well.

I had fun writing this. I really hope you like reading it. Kisses.

“New year, new me. I’m no longer a boring girl. I’m going to find myself a nice, good looking guy and get crazy with him.” You started as you sat down next to Hermoine. She laughed in response. “You don’t need a guy to have fun or to be cool.” But before you could say anything Pansy plopped down next to you. “Yes, you do, so who’s the lucky guy?” Hermoine rolled her eyes.

You looked around the great hall and settled on a handsome sixth year. “Him.” You tilted your face his way, subtly pointing. “Ew! No! Boring!” Pansy spat. “What’s wrong with that guy?” Hermoine asked, narrowing her eyes at Pansy. “You wanna be popular, you wanna have fun, you gotta date someone on top of the food chain.” Pansy said as a matter of fact and Hermoine mocked the last words of her sentence.

You ignored the tension completely and simply asked. “Who’s on top of the food chain?” Pansy looked around to search for a good example. “Aha!” She said pleased, when she saw who just walked in and grinned at the girls next to her. “Oh no.” Hermoine sighed as she saw a particular group of Slytherins enter the great hall. You simply pursed your lips at the idea. But you brought yourself back to reality. “How’s a gray mouse like me gonna date the top of the food chain?” Pansy simply wiggled her eyebrows and Hermoine was definitely worried now.

***

The next day you made your way to sit next to Hermoine in class. With your skirt short enough to make you question its purpose and your shirt tight and revealing, you now had all the guys paying attention. “What’s this?” Hermoine questioned, obviously referring to your outfit. “This. This is my battle-outfit. I’m conquering the top of the food chain.” You replied with confidence. Hermoine scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Then why is the top of the food chain looking at you like you're their next meal.”

You quickly glanced around the classroom, getting a little nervous, you softly bit your lip. You want to defend your case to Hermoine, but accidentally drop your quill. As you reach for it, Enzo beats you to it. Handing it to you with a sweet smile, but also giving you a cheeky wink.

Theodore, who sits next to Enzo, shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t fall for it. Pansy’s clearly up to something.” Enzo smiles brightly at his friend. “Oh mate, I’ve already fallen. Badly, madly. And it’s okay, you can leave your fallen brother behind. He’s going to a better place, somewhere between her squishy thighs.” Mattheo who sits behind Theodore speaks up. “Oi, T. slap him for me, will ya?” And before Enzo even realizes what Mattheo said, Theo has already given him a light smack on the back of his head. Blaise bites his lip and comes to Enzo’s aid. “In his defense, look at those legs.” Slurring the last word and leaning closer to Mattheo, his eyes never leaving your body. Mattheo pushes his chair a little and leans back for a better view of what his friend is talking about. Mattheo is definitely seeing something he likes, his eyes scan your body. His tongue gently rolls over his lips and he swallows hard thinking about all the noises you would make if he could have his way with you. “Mister Zabini, mister Riddle, care to explain why you don’t have your books out yet.” Professor McGonnagol asks, looking down upon the boys. “Sorry professor.” Blaise immediately reaches for his book, while Mattheo only looks down at his desk like a pouty 5 year old that just got caught.

After class Theodore lets out a frustrated grown as you walk past them in the hallway. You did nothing aside from sitting there and being pretty, yet you had him fantasizing about things that made him loosen his tie halfway during class. “I should’ve skipped class. I wrote down less than when I’m not in class.” Enzo looked confused at Theo’s statement, questioning his logic. Mattheo was about to say something, but Blaise interrupted him. “That simp! Look at him.” Blaise pointed at Draco shamelessly leaning against a wall trying to casually make conversation with you as Pansy tries not to laugh at Draco’s desperation. “No backbone, those Malfoy’s.” Mattheo scoffs. “Yeaah.” Blaise affirms absentmindedly, staring at you as you smile at Draco. Such a beautiful smile, but I bet that mouth can do more than just smile. Blaise was smirking as his thoughts got less innocent with each passing second. “We should save the poor girl.” Enzo states, pulling Blaise out his trance. “Yeah.” Blaise and Enzo quickly make their way over to you. Making Pansy grin at Mattheo and Theodore. Raising her eyebrows as a way of non-verbally taunting them: are you two really gonna just stand there with your pathetic male pride. “Tell me you have smokes. I need one.” Mattheo sighs in frustration after he finally managed to pull his eyes away from you. Theo nods. “Girls and their games. They’ll be the death of me.” Theo can’t help but take one last look at you.

***

“Pans, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Hermoine’s right I’m attracting the wrong kind of guys.” Pansy eyes roll up in annoyance. That bloody Granger-girl can squeeze the fun out of everything. “You can set them straight. Believe me, if you bat your eyes they will start behaving.” You make a face disagreeing with her. “I’m looking for fun, yeah, but I’m also looking for boyfriend material, they’re not that.” Pansy huffs. “You know nothing.” You frown in confusion. “Just play my game. You’ll get what you want.” Pansy starts walking again, but then turns on her heels looking at you still confused. “You are gonna have to pick one, preferably by tonight. I would hate to see the Slytherin boy band break up, because I really don’t think they can share.” You bite your lip softly and your mind wonders.

If Pansy was really speaking the truth and you could just have your pick. Which one? Him. If he would push you against this cold hallway wall right now you would immediately spread your legs so he could lift you up. Your neck and your jaw would be peppered with his soft kisses. You would wrap your legs around him and he would buck his hips into yours. Your mouth would fall open slightly because of all the sensations building up between your legs. He would mercilessly attack your mouth and his hands would explore every inch of your body. Squeezing your butt, making you instinctively rub your core against his growing bulge. He would cup your breasts, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric. “Everything alright?” Luna snaps you out of your wonderful train of thoughts. You look at her sheepishly. “Yeah. I better get going. Class, and stuff.” You push your thighs together, before fully letting go of your daydream. “I have those moments too you know, when I forget about reality.” Luna comforts you as you both walk to class. “Uhu” Is all you manage to say, not really knowing what to think.

If Blaise is you’re guy: part 2

***

“Your party outfit is a shirt?” Hermoine asks, not hiding her judgment. “It’s an oversized shirt, which makes it a dress. It’s fashion, Granger, get over it.” Pansy snaps. “You’re corrupting my friend.” Hermoine hisses at Pansy. “Oh, darling. I’m not corrupting. But some guy might.” Pansy winks, Hermoine’s mouth falls open and you stand there sheepishly looking at your feet. “I’m wearing shorts under this dress. So it’s really not that bad.” You finally manage to say. “Alright, let’s party.” Pansy says and she’s the first to walk through the doors of the room of requirement.

For Mattheo: part 2

For Theodore: part 2

For Lorenzo: part 2

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi! so far I've loved everything you've written about Kurt, Logan and Remy. 🧎🏻‍♀️

Could you write something about Kurt? where together with reader they are in the kitchen of the mansion because they can't sleep, and she finally tells him her concerns about the magnitude of her powers and Kurt with his heart of gold tells her beautiful things to calm her down and make her laugh, the rest to your imagination, I would appreciate it, you write great! Thanks 💙✨

SFW! Nightcrawler/Fem!Reader

Ok so I will admit that I made this a leeetle self indulgent. I was trying to think of a power someone could really struggle with and a fun one that I thought of was having necromancy, but having such respect for life and death that it feels wrong. I thought it would fit well with a Kurt fic because it's something that almost feels sacrilegious, and it's good to have a fuzzy blue elf assure you that you aren't a monster :) I know its def not power ambiguous, but I hope this is okay :)

Also, I know my writing style is a little different in this one, And thats because the first few paragraphs set the tone for my writing when I start and tbh I think this one just flowed from my soul to they keyboard.

TWs: nightmares, necromancy, gross descriptions of rotting flesh. Extreme self-doubt and self-consciousness. Basically angst with a happy ending.

You’ve been having nightmares again. They hardly seem to stop, but after a break in between the terror, you'd become too relaxed. Too comfortable. You felt defenseless when they started to begin again.

It’s always the same dream, different font. Bones cracking, flesh ripping as it’s forced into place, natural or not. Skin rotting off of once human bodies, sockets where eyes used to be. It was horrifying. You’d see your family, friends, acquaintances, everyone. Dead. Brought back to life by your power, the power you were still so afraid of. You were always afraid of zombie movies as a kid. Anything rising from the dead, anything breathed back to life in some sick and twisted fantasy. It was ironic that your very own strength was the thing you had always been the most afraid of.

Of course, as you aged and the professor took you in, the fear began to wear off. Mostly, it did. The professor not only taught you how to control your powers but also how to work around your fear. You can remember the confusion you felt when he had set a box of ancient bones in front of you. Fragments of titans, dinosaurs who had long since passed. Bones that would never be matched to an accurate set, parts of them being crushed to dust by the cruelty of time. Bones that only you could breathe to life, to bring them together as a whole again. It was convenient, the professor had told you, that you only needed a fragment to do so. He spoke as if it were a service to them. Most importantly, he brought you a box of bones that weren’t, and never had been, human.

He had taken the fear out of your power. Given you an option you had never considered before. Bones without flesh, without living family. Fossils that would serve you as you were serving them. You were… happy, with that. You were content. You could handle bones. You could revive these ancient skeletons without fear, and fight with them without worry. That didn’t change the horror of knowing the capacity your powers had.

    So the nightmares remained, and your sleep had become sparse.

    This particular night you were restless. Unable to sleep despite how tired you have been, but it’s hard to rest when there is only terror waiting behind your eyelids. After a while, you decide to give up trying.

The path to the kitchen is one you have memorized, even in the dark. You’ve always been told never to eat sugar before bed, but the only thing you want to comfort you at this moment is hot chocolate- so screw it.

    You try your best to be quiet while fishing out a pot out of the cabinets. The stove makes a click as you flick it on, filling the pot with milk before stirring it as it warms. The automatic task is comforting, falling into a routine you enjoy. You’ve just added the coco mix when the sound of a *Bamph* greets you.

   ��“Guten abend.” Kurt whispers, walking over to stand beside you. You give him a tired smile that he returns with a yawn.

    “I’m sorry if I woke you.” You say, face returning to a frown Kurt thinks you wear far too often. Maybe it’s good that he’s here because you realize you made far too much of the sweet drink than you had meant to. You get a mug for him, heart fluttering as his hand brushes your own when he takes it from you, thanking you quietly.

    “You did not wake me, Schatz. I promise.” Kurt says, pulling out a chair for you with his tail as he sits at the table. You nod silently, placing the pot in the sink and filling it with water before you join him, leaning against his shoulder.

    “Did you have another nightmare?” Kurt asks after a moment. His brows are furrowed in concern, and you fail to stop him before he takes a sip from the scalding coco, burning his tongue. He scrunches his nose as he sticks out his tongue, making you giggle for a moment. He thinks your laugh suits you much more than your frown, even if it happens to be at his expense. Your face falls slightly anyway, and he wonders if he could get you to laugh if he did it all over again.

    “...No. Not tonight.” The words come out as less than a whisper, and you doubt he might hear it if it weren’t the middle of the night. Little did you know he’d block the world out if he had to, just to hear you speak a little clearer. He hums in response, and you feel his tail slowly wrap snugly around your waist, the very tip idly stroking you in a comforting manner.

    “...Do you wish to speak about them?” Kurt asks after a moment. You huff slightly, feeling the hot steam from your mug warm your face as you do so. Still too hot, you think to yourself. Flashes of those horrid nightmares come to mind, and no matter how quickly you try to shake them off, they remain. You choose to think of Kurt instead. Sweet, kind, comforting Kurt. You want to bury yourself in his arms, sink into the feeling of his skin, and never let go, if only he would let you. He would without a second thought, if only you had known. You think carefully about your next words, and the visions of flesh and corpses hardly leave you.

    “Am I a monster, Kurt?” You hear a quiet, cut-off gasp from Kurt, and he turns to you. His face is pained, and he sets his mug down to place his hand around your own, still clasped around the hot cocoa. 

    “Of course not. Only a fool would think so.” His words, although comforting, only leave you with a worse sting in your heart. You can’t hold eye contact with him, staring at the reflection in your mug instead. Only a fool would think so. You halfway wonder if you count as a fool, then.

    “I, just… My powers, what I do. What I am capable of doing. It’s not right.” You take a shaky breath in, desperately trying not to break down here and now. “It’s disgusting. It’s horrible. Every time I find myself comfortable with myself I am reminded of what is possible and I spiral. I don’t want it. I don’t-”  

  “Liebling.” You let out a sob at the sound of his voice. Kurt is hunched over, pressing his forehead against your own as he desperately tries to catch your gaze- but you can’t. You can't bear it, and you close your eyes tightly. Kurt takes the mug from your hands. He cups your face as he wipes your tears, and you feel like even more of a monster as he does so. Sobbing as a man with a heart of gold wipes your tears away with love and care.

    “Please, look at me,” Kurt whispers. You try to stop the tears, embarrassed as you fall apart in front of the man you hold so dearly, but it’s hard. It’s so hard. Your chest stings, your throat is sore, you’re sure your nose is running, and yet he still holds you so gently. When your breathing evens out just a bit, you convince yourself to open your eyes again.

    Kurt’s gaze is simply concerned. There is no horror, no disgust, nothing but worry for you. Nothing but kindness. You wonder if you could be even half as good as he is. 

    “You are good. You are kind. You are strong enough to stand by your morals despite the nature of your powers telling you otherwise- and you have the strength to continue to use them and fight your fears anyway. You are one of the most incredible people I have ever met. Do not let your nightmares tell you otherwise.” Kurt’s hold is steady against your cheeks, and your own shaky hands reach up to hold onto his wrists. You sob again as he speaks. You know. You know this. Others have told you, but these words all felt like lies. All but the ones you’re hearing from his mouth. Your tears are slowing, and Kurt leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, leaving the skin tingling. You whisper quiet apologies for crying, and he shushes each one, gently wiping your face with the soft sleeve of his pajama shirt.

  “I would not be here if I didn’t want to care for you, my love,” Kurt says softly. Your eyes widen, taken aback by his words. He called you many things. Liebling. Schatz. Love. But never my love. The words waken butterflies in your belly, and Kurt takes a moment to realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The two of you are treading a line that you both desperately want to cross. 

    Kurt is the first to lean in. He does so slowly, toeing the line between you. His gaze remains on your own as he closes the space, nose nuzzling against your own as he gives you the time to back out if you wish. But you don’t. You want nothing more than to have what he is so freely giving. 

    Kurt kisses you softly, lovingly, and for once the horrors have quieted and are cleared from your mind. All there is now is Kurt, and his soft love. He kisses you a second time before he pulls away, still as close to you as he can be without falling out of his chair. You wonder how he can see beauty where all you see is terror. He wonders if you have any clue just how much of a good person you continue to be.

    He knows he would gladly spend the rest of his life showing you.

[bootsukki]

“Hey Reddit, an update”

aita series masterlist previous part

author's note: tysm for the incredible amount of notes, reblogs and likes the series has had. i'm completely amazed by it :D i would love to read your opinions on this! hope you enjoy this part! there is just one part left to the series and that makes me really sad but life goes on (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

this has 5k words!!!! sorry!

warnings: a bit of angst, fluff and SMUTTTTTTTTT (smut will start and finish after this: *****) so please, mdni!!! p.s.: haven’t written smut in ages so……….

The university was buzzing with the usual midday energy when Tsukishima stepped through the front doors. Multiple students were going in and out of the several buildings, ready to go home or get some lunch. Tsukishima fixed his tie, nervous. It was two days after their painful phone conversation and even though he didn't want to admit it, talking to Akiteru about everything made him more aware of (Y/N)'s feelings. He couldn't let things stay the way they were. He didn't want to lose the woman of his dreams just because he cannot deal with his plans and his nerves towards his future proposal.

Clutching the bento in his hand, he made his way through the education building. (Y/N) was in her last days of finishing the first draft of her book so she was likely to be at the small office Fujimoto-san, her mentor, had given her to work on it. The smell of (Y/N)'s favourite food wafted from the bento and, despite the knots in his stomach, he hoped this would be the first peace offering that would get them closer.

He had tried his best to get her to come home, texting her the previous day with little success, only receiving a yes/no answer to his texts. He had even tried contacting Yachi but the smaller girl was completely blinded by rage towards him ("Tsukishima, you're a fucking asshole and if you think I'll let you hurt my best friend, you're terribly wrong about it. I may be 5 feet tall but I know how to punch someone, especially tall guys like you.") He regretted his actions from that night, including the complete silence he gave her when she was just trying to get an explanation from him.

When he reached her office, Tsukishima took a deep breath, stopping at the doorway. He was nervous to even see her as she had been staying at Yachi’s, knowing she had been at home showering and taking clean clothes whenever he was at work thanks to the smell of her coconut shampoo and the missing socks from the pile of laundry he needed to get through. As he was about to knock on the door, a voice called his name and he turned.

"Fujimoto-san."

"I knew it was you, Tsukishima." Fujimoto-san was a 55-year-old university professor that had been (Y/N)'s professor during her first year. He had been with her through every stage of her university degree and he was the one to who proposed writing a book on second language methodologies to her and the one who accompanied her during her research in the US. Tsukishima was grateful that (Y/N) had found someone who was giving her the support she needed to get over the project, almost acting like a father figure towards (Y/N). "What are you doing here?"

"I was bringing (Y/N) some lunch."

"Oh! That's so nice of you, boy. She hasn't been out of the office for the whole day." Fujimoto knocked on the door and without even waiting for an answer, he opened the door.

(Y/N) was sitting at her desk, completely absorbed in her work, clicking the keys on the keyboard quickly as she wrote, brows furrowed in concentration.

"(Y/N)."

"Fujimoto-san, sorry, I haven't been able to find the document you asked me for." She looked up, surprise flashing across her face as she saw her boyfriend next to the professor before her expression hardened slightly. She wasn't expecting him here. "Kei."

"He brought you some food, isn't that great?"

(Y/N) gave her mentor a soft smile and stood up, getting close to them. With a smile, she reached for the bento on his hands.

"I just wanted to let you know that he's here. I'll leave you two lovebirds eat alone."

"Thank you, Fujimoto-san."

The man waved his hands, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

"Kei," she said, her tone uncertain, guarded. "What are you doing here?"

Tsukishima shifted, feeling awkward. "I thought you might be hungry," he said, voice softer than usual. "And… I wanted to talk."

Her eyes flickered to the bento, then back to his face, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, and Tsukishima’s heart pounded in his chest, nervousness gnawing at him. What if she didn’t want to hear him out? What if she was done?

But finally, she sighed, gesturing for him to sit down.

Relief washed over him as he sat down on a chair. "It’s your favorite," he added quietly, watching her reaction.

(Y/N) looked at the food, then back at him. Her walls were still up, and he could feel the distance between them. But she was here. She was listening.

"Thanks," she muttered, but there was still tension in her voice. "But you didn’t have to bring me food just to say whatever you came to say."

"I know," Tsukishima said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "But I wanted to."

There was another long pause before (Y/N) sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I can’t talk right now, I have a meeting in 10.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima shifted on his feet, feeling the weight of rejection settle uncomfortably on his shoulders. “I didn’t know.”

(Y/N) sighed softly, the tension between them palpable even in her small office. “I really can’t talk right now,” she repeated, glancing over at her desk again. “But maybe… we could talk after work? At home?”

Her voice was quieter on that last part, as if she was extending a tentative olive branch. Tsukishima nodded immediately, relief washing over him despite the lingering tension. “Yeah. Tonight, at home. We can talk then.”

She nodded, and for a moment, their eyes met—there was something fragile in her gaze. It made his chest ache. “Okay,” she whispered, opening the bento. “Thank you for the food.”

He didn’t press her further, didn’t try to fix everything in that moment. Instead, he turned to leave, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to find their way back to each other that night.

*****

Later that evening, Tsukishima sat on the couch, waiting, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee as he tried to calm his nerves. His mind was racing, replaying everything that had happened between them—how distant he had become, how his silence had hurt her more than he’d realized.

When (Y/N) finally walked through the door, she looked drained from the long day. She dropped her bag by the door and glanced over at him, offering a small wave.

“Hi,” she said softly, as if unsure of how to start.

“Hey,” he replied, standing up awkwardly. “You want to sit down?”

She nodded, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to him, but there was still a noticeable gap between them. The air between them felt heavy, weighted down by everything they hadn’t said.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on, thick with tension and uncertainty, and Tsukishima felt the guilt gnawing at him. He hated how far apart they felt, how much he had hurt her without meaning to.

Finally, (Y/N) took a deep breath, her voice small and shaky when she spoke. “Kei, I… I don’t even know where to begin.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I know,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I’ve been terrible about all of this. I’ve shut you out, and I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you. I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, looking down at her lap. “It’s not just that you shut me out, Kei. It’s everything… You’ve been staying late, coming home at random hours, and… Mia—”

Her voice broke slightly as she said the name, and Tsukishima’s heart sank.

“You obviously don't notice but I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” she continued, her words trembling. “I've noticed since that time you were out with your coworkers and I had to give you your keys and from that moment, she’s always around, and I just—I couldn’t help but think that maybe you were spending time with her. Maybe… maybe you were choosing her over me.”

Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped away a tear that slipped down her cheek, trying to maintain her composure. But Tsukishima could see how much this had been eating at her, festering under the surface.

“I felt so stupid for thinking that,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking slightly. “But I couldn’t help it. Every time you were late, every time you didn’t answer my texts… I thought maybe I was losing you to her.”

Tsukishima’s chest tightened painfully as he listened to her. The thought that she had been feeling like this—feeling jealous, insecure, like she wasn’t enough—it tore him apart inside. He had completely ignored her, left her on the dark on everything and his words from two nights before were eating him alive, seeing her like that. He had been so focused on keeping the surprise, on managing everything on his own, that he hadn’t even seen how much he was hurting her.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret. He reached out, gently taking her trembling hands in his. “Mia means nothing to me. I don’t even notice her like that. She’s just a coworker. You... You’re the one I love. You’re the only one I want.”

Her lip quivered, and more tears fell from her eyes. She looked away, trying to compose herself, but the pain was too raw, too fresh. “But you...” she whispered. “You never told me what was going on, so I didn’t know… I didn’t know what to think. All those nights at the museum or with the computer here at home... I don't know, I felt so...”

Tsukishima squeezed her hands gently, his heart aching. “I should have told you sooner,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to make you doubt yourself or us. I was just… trying to plan something special for us. That’s why I’ve been working late. I’ve been trying to get everything ready for our anniversary. I've been looking for the best place where we can relax and I've been trying to get days off by just... overworking, I guess.”

She looked up at him through her tears. “Our anniversary?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice soft. “I’ve been planning a trip. Just the two of us. I wanted it to be a surprise, but in trying to keep it secret, I ended up shutting you out. I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough. I'm the worst at these things. I hate surprises.”

(Y/N) blinked, more tears falling, but this time there was a flicker of relief in her expression. “You were doing all that for us?”

“I was,” he said, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “But that doesn’t excuse how I handled it. You shouldn’t have had to worry about Mia or think that I didn’t care. I should’ve been open with you, told you what was going on, not leaving you like nothing was happening. I was a complete asshole with you.”

Her shoulders trembled, and she let out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes. “I felt so stupid, Kei,” she whispered. “I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you, like I was… like I was losing you to her.”

Tsukishima’s heart clenched, and without another word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You’re not losing me,” he murmured into her hair, his voice soft but firm. “You’re never going to lose me. She isn’t even a thought in my mind. You’re the one I want, Y/N. You’ve always been the one.”

Her hands gripped his shirt tightly, and she sobbed quietly into his chest, letting out all the emotions she had been holding in. Tsukishima held her close, his hand gently stroking her back.

After a few moments, she pulled back slightly, her face streaked with tears. “I don’t want to feel like this again,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I don’t want to keep thinking I’m not enough for you.”

“You are enough,” he said firmly, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You’re more than enough. I’m sorry I made you doubt that. I’ll do better. I promise I’ll be honest with you from now on. We’ll talk about everything—no more shutting each other out.”

She sniffled, her fingers curling around his wrist, holding onto him like he was her anchor. “I just want to feel like I matter to you, Kei.”

“You do,” he whispered, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “You matter more than anyone. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I’m sorry I didn’t show that enough. I’ll do better. You are my everything. I won't hurt you like this again.”

She nodded, tears still clinging to her lashes, but the weight between them seemed to lift, just a little. “We’ll figure this out,” she whispered. “Together. I also need to communicate my feelings better."

Tsukishima leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment before moving onto her lips, kissing them for just a second. “Together,” he echoed, his heart swelling as he held her close.

"We really suck at this sometimes," she muttered.

"Yeah, we do."

They both laughed softly, still holding each other tight.

*****

(OP) tsuk113_:

Hey Reddit, an update.

Seems like we just needed to have a long and conversation between us. I took your comments and advice from friends to heart and explained everything to her. I told her about the surprise trip (but not about me proposing on that trip, surprise, I guess) and everything has gone well. WE are working on our problems and I promised her to be better. I need to be better for her because she is truly the best thing that has happened to me.

Anyway, trip is just a few days away and I'm actually nervous about proposing but, I hope it goes right.

*****

The drive up the mountains had been long, winding through dense forests and past breathtaking views, but the destination was worth it. Tsukishima had booked a secluded cabin that sat high up, surrounded by towering trees and overlooking a serene, glassy lake. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, and the sky above was a brilliant expanse of deep blue. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by time, peaceful, and far removed from the hectic pace of their daily lives.

(Y/N) had been in better spirits since their talk. Tsukishima had worked hard to open up to her, to let her in on how overwhelmed he had been. And while she didn’t know the full reason for the trip, she had let herself hope that this weekend away was his way of making things right between them and celebrate their anniversary as well.

After they had settled into the cabin and left their small suitcases by the beautiful bedroom that had amazing views to the lake, (Y/N) found herself touring the place as Tsukishima started to cook them dinner, standing by the long railing at the balcony, appreciating the views and fresh air, the view of the mountains and lake calming her completely. She smiled softly as she took it all in, admiring the leaves on the trees and their vivid shades of gold, red and orange, making the entire scene look like something out of a painting.

Tsukishima had been looking at her from his place at the kitchen, the weight of the ring in his pocket settling in, waiting for the right moment.

As the sun began to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and lavender, Tsukishima suggested they take a walk before they have some dinner.

Taking their coats and putting on more comfortable shoes, they stepped outside into the cool evening air, the path they followed covered in fallen leaves that crunched beneath their boots. (Y/N) held her boyfriend's hand, leaning against him as they walked in comfortable silence. He had found the perfect place to relax and she was grateful for it. (Y/N) breathed deeply, feeling the tension of the last few weeks melting away in the serenity of the surroundings.

As they reached the lake, (Y/N) walked away from Tsukishima, leaning towards it, looking at the sky. "This place is amazing," she said, voice soft as she looked at the lake glimmering under the fading sunlight. "If this were a movie, we would see a proposal right now."

Tsukishima's heart skipped a beat as his hand made his way towards his front pocket.

"Is that so?"

(Y/N) laughed, completely unaware of the scene that was about to happen behind her. "I think we are the only people here, though, but..." She streched her arms out to the horizon. "Wouldn't that be something?"

When she turned back around to make another playful comment, the words died on her lips.

Tsukishima was no longer standing behind her. Instead, he was down on one knee, his tall frame somehow looking both awkward and incredibly graceful at the same time. In his hand was a small velvet box, the lid open to reveal a delicate, sparkling ring.

(Y/N)’s heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at him in disbelief.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Tsukishima, for all his careful planning, looked almost… shy. His usual sharp gaze softened as he looked up at her, the words he had rehearsed for weeks suddenly feeling far more significant now that she was standing there, her eyes wide and her lips trembling in surprise.

“(Y/N),” he began, his voice low and steady, though his heart was racing in his chest. “I’ve never been good at showing how much you mean to me. I know I’ve messed up, more than once… but you’ve been with me through it all. And I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. These 5 years with you as my girlfriend have been the best years of my life. You have taken care of me, loved me and I can't be more grateful that you are mine.”

(Y/N) was already tearing up, her hand still covering her mouth as she let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” Tsukishima continued, his voice just a little quieter now, as if speaking the words made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. “I want us to have forever. So… will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft murmur of the lake below. (Y/N) stared down at Tsukishima, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else. (Y/N) got on her knees, looking at Tsukishima, the man in front of her blushing.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice cracking with emotion. “Yes, of course!”

Tsukishima let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his lips pulling into a rare, genuine smile. He, carefully, took the ring away from the box, slipping the ring onto her finger with careful precision, as though it was the most important thing he’d ever done. Once the ring was in place, he cupped her face in his hands, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

(Y/N) closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him, the taste of salty tears on her lips from the emotions spilling over. In that moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place.

When they finally pulled away, (Y/N) laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I just joked about you proposing.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Timing is everything.”

She laughed again, glancing down at the ring on her finger. It had a parti sapphire as a centerpiece, a gem with a blend of rich forest green and subtle blue hues. The sapphire, in an oval shape, was set in a delicate gold band surrounded by what it seemed like small diamonds. It was, elegant and perfect—just like him, in his own way.

“Wow, Kei... It is beautiful... I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You, the guy who hates surprises.”

Tsukishima shrugged, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. “I figured you were worth making an exception for. To be honest, I thought you were going to find the ring at home.”

"What!?" (Y/N) gasped. "Where was it?"

"I know you hate grocery shopping so I hid the box between the bags I take shopping."

(Y/N) laughed, her heart swelling with so much love she thought it might burst. She reached up to brush a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, her thumb tracing the familiar curve of his jaw.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice full of everything she felt but couldn’t quite put into words.

Tsukishima’s eyes softened, and for once, he didn’t feel the need to hold back. “I love you too.”

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, sweet, and filled with everything unsaid. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was gentle, almost reverent. Her hands slid up to cup his face, his glasses cool under her fingertips as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss just a little. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and forever, a merging of relief, joy, and love so deep it made their heart ache in the best way possible.

Tsukishima’s hands tightened around her, pulling her flush against him, and for once, he let himself be completely open, pouring all the love he had into that single kiss. As they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them smiling breathlessly, the world quiet except for the pounding of their hearts in sync.

*****

(Y/N) hugs Tsukishima from behind, enjoying the warmth of his body as he washes the dishes of their dinner. Tsukishima can't help the smile on his lips as his eyes glance down to her ring, sparkling under the lights of the kitchen. For a moment, he is grateful about the lack of signal of their phones because for once, (Y/N) is not checking her emails constantly (seriously, Tsukishima reckons she has a Gmail addiction) and secondly, because she's been teasing him all night, running her fingers, especially her ring finger, through his arm, chest and neck, kissing him slowly, running her tongue over his lips, well, teasing him more and more as the night went on.

Tsukishima dried his hands and turned around, pulling (Y/N) flush against his chest, cupping her face as he slowly leans down to brush their lips together, hands around her hips, massaging the eposed skin between her sweatshirt and her soft pajama bottoms. Without a second though, (Y/N) pulls away, taking his arm, leading him upstairs. As soon as she reaches the bedroom door, she opens it, pulling Tsukishima by his T-shirt to get him inside.

As their kisses grow deeper which every passing second, the man quickly takes off his glasses and T-shirt, leaving them at one of the bedsides tables before running his hands through (Y/N)'s body, undressing her slowly. First, her sweatshirt, leaving her bare from the waist up.

"God, you're so beautiful."

(Y/N) blushes but doesn't waste a second and takes off her pajama bottoms and underwear, pushing them aside with her foot before siting down at the end of the bed and spreading her legs.

Tsukishima can't help it and his eyes slowly make their way towards her most intimate part and he slowly, gets down on one knee and grabs her leg, kissing her leg and inner thigh, before, after what it seem like an incredible amount of time, delving in like a starved man.

Tsukishima lifted one of (Y/N)'s legs up, placing it atop of his shoulder as he parted her lower lips and started to lap his tongue in her.

He moans out, the vibrations of it sending a shiver all over (Y/N)'s body as she cries out his name, hands making its way towards his blonde hair.

Her breath hitches when Tsukishima makes a slurping sound as if he was tasting the most delicious meal in the world.

Tsukishima, eyes closed at the taste of his fiancée, cups her heat, one of his long fingers pressing against her walls.

"Oh, Kei..." (Y/N) opens her mouth, a loud moan leaving her throat, chest heaving. "Right there, baby. Jesus...."

"Right there, pretty?"

"Uh-huh, please! God, yes."

The combination of his mouth and fingers curling inside her shocks her with a wave of pleasure and she pulls on his hair, a gasp leaving his lips as he looks up at her. He can't believe it. He can't believe that the beautiful woman in front of him, so overcome with plasure, is his, forever. Tsukishima smirks, adding another finger as (Y/N) glances down to look at him as her body goes still, climaxing in a long and wonderful orgasm, moaning a mixture of what it seemed like Tsukishima’s name and several curse words.

Tsukishima looks at her once again, soflty massaging her thigh for a few seconds, letting her relax a little bit before rising to his feet and pushing her into the mattress, laying on top of her as her arms make their way around his neck.

From then, (Y/N) slowly reaches to take off his sweat pants, the sight of him that hard making her mouth water, still feeling a bit hazy from her orgasm. Teasing, she fondles with him for just a few seconds, hand slowly inside his boxers, touching him. Her hand moves up and down as she keeps her eyes on him, Tsukishima's eyes closing due to the feeling of her soft hand and the coldness of her new ring on him.

"I love you."

Tsukishima nearly comes at the sound of that and he inhales sharply, smiling. He can feel her everywhere, her hand moving the way he likes it, her lips moving and kissing along his jaw, neck and lips, the sight of her bare pussy... God, he is in heaven.

She pushes his boxers down, straddling his lap as she slaps his throbbing tip on her clit a few times before alinging it with her entrance, slowly making her way down, the sound of his name leaving her mouth as he fills her up.

"Fuck..." Tsukishima bites his lip as (Y/N) slowly moves her hips slowly, splaying her hands on his chest as she moved up and down, an animalistic look in her eyes as she watches him whimper. Without thinking, she grabs two of his fingers and places them inside her mouth, biting and licking them.

"Jesus, fuck."

"Tell me... Tell me what you want, pretty boy."

"You... So bad."

(Y/N) smiles, leaning down to kiss him slowly, the eye contact between them so suffocating that Tsukishima feels like he is going to explode. The feeling of her body on top, the pressure and warmth of her walls. It's too much. Tsukishima doesn't let her move and he cups her cheeks, sucking on her tongue as they both sigh in pleasure.

"Baby..." Tsukishima grabs her breast. "You're so pretty. You're so pretty when you fuck me."

(Y/N) pants, laughing and her hand wraps itself about his throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah?"

He nods, biting his lip.

"You're mine, Kei." (Y/N) hisses, bouncing on top of him with more strength. She was close, so, so so close. "You're mine forever."

"Forever."

(Y/N)'s back arches for just a second and Tsukishima notices her movements are getting sloppy and without even thinking about it, she grabs her by the waist and rocks their hips together, thrusting into her at an alarming pace, bed shaking a bit due to their movements.

"Oh, fuck!" (Y/N) moans, her hands touching his chest, reaching for his shoulder. "Like that, baby. I'm so..."

"I know, me too."

(Y/N) leans down to tug on his earlobes wit her teeth as she growls something not even him can't understand. Tsukishima quivers at the feeling of his cock reaching even deeper and for a moment, he feels like he is seeing stars.

"I'm going to cum, Kei!" Please, please, keep going!"

"Cum with me, baby. Cum with me." His voice becomes deeper as he feels his own orgasm approach him, looking at (Y/N), who had her face on his shoulder, sweat running through her forehead. Tsukishima kisses her slowly, hands moving her hair out of her face. "Fuck, (Y/N), where do you want it?"

"Inside, please." (Y/N) begs, her lips still brushing his. "Please, baby. I need it so bad."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, yes!"

Tsukishima's cock twitches inside of (Y/N), gasps leaving his mouth as he cums inside of her. They both jerk, the feeling of their orgams making them feel dizzy and light-headed.

"Fuck."

"Yeah..."

"That was..."

"So fucking good."

(Y/N) laughs as Tsukishima kisses her cheeks repeatedly, lips swollen from all their kissing.

"If I knew we were gonna fuck this good after proposing, I would have done it at 18."

"Kei!"

Tsukishima laughs loudly and (Y/N) melts, the sight of him like this... So happy and perfect... She hums, hiding her face on his neck for just a second.

"I love you so much."

"Me too."

"No. I don't think you understand." Tsukishima adds. "You really taught me what is like to love and even though I may not be perfect at it, I promise I will love you every single day of my life and even after death."

"Kei..."

"You are my everything, you know that, right?"

"You can't say things like that!"

"Why?"

"Because..." (Y/N) blushes, placing her hands on her face and getting up from the bed. "Because! I'm going to take a shower."

Tsukishima laughs, looking at her as she walks towards the bathroom door, biting his lip.

"Don't look at me like that and come shower with me."

"Yes, (Y/N) Tsukishima."

"Shut up!"

*****

(OP) tsuk113_:

I'M GETTING MARRIED FUCK YES

User 1:

Congratulations! After 20 years of being married, let me give you a piece of adivce: listen to each other. Enjoy the little moments together. I am sure your love is pure.

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[unofficial-writing]

Off Limits

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, blood, indirect mention of suicide, anger issues, etc. a little fluff at the end

Summary: A guy is shit talking Remus while he’s not with you and you get into a physical fight over it

Word count: A little under 1k

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You went down to the great hall with Sirius after an unusually long quidditch practice. You ended late, so most of the other students were gone already. Both of you now sat down to eat a late lunch, not even bothering to change out of your sweaters. “You smell terrible,” Sirius teased, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a smirk. He lifted his cup to take a drink of whatever was inside.

“Right, because you smell just like flowers.” You replied quickly, running a hand over your messy hair, which was still tied back behind your head. After a quick glance toward the door, you caught sight of Jason Leveret. A particularly annoying Slytherin. This year he had begun to take an interest in getting on your nerves. He walked with a small group from his house down the long hall.

“It’s shocking those four even want to be around him.” You heard him say now that he was within earshot. “Personally, I wouldn’t if someone held a wand to my neck and made me.”

He didn’t say a name, but you could tell he was talking about Remus. You tensed. It was one thing when he messed with you, you didn’t really care. But Remus was a name you wouldn’t let him put in his mouth. You sat up straighter and ignored the look Sirius gave you.

“I mean, come on.” They were almost behind you now. He waited until he was passing you to continue. “Honestly, he needs to just take a walk out to the bridge if you catch my meaning.” Your head snapped in their direction.

“What did you say?” You were almost immediately on your feet. Sirius grabbed your sleeve but you yanked it away. Jason turned to face you with an arrogance that had you gritting your teeth. You knew he was proud that he had gotten to you but you didn’t care.

“I think you heard me, babe.” He sneered. Your self control had never failed so quickly. “But I’ll say it again. Your boyfriend needs to—” Jason couldn’t get another word out before you landed a punch to his face. It sent him backward and the nearby students jumping out of the way.

You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and shoved him into the a table. Plates and silverware clattered onto the floor. “Say it again! Say it!” You hissed. He took your shoulders and rolled you over, slamming your back into the table. Your head pounded on contact.

Your size was an obvious disadvantage and you weren’t able to get out from under Jason. He got a few good punches in, causing your nose to bleed immediately. Sirius finally intervened, pushing the boy off hard enough to send him to the floor. Sirius turned to grab you, but you were already on top of Jason again.

Sirius quickly got an arm around your torso before anything else happened, pulling you away against your protests. He had both arms around you but said nothing. Only a quiet “Shh” which lowered your anger significantly.

Jason was back on his feet and stared you down. Blood gushed from his nose and he had mild cuts on his face, yet he still had the nerve to say something else. “You need to get her under control.” He said through blood and gritted teeth. Sirius glared at him, tightening his hold on you.

You wanted to snap back at him but McGonagall rushed into the hall. “Leveret! Y/l/n!” The crowd that had previously gathered shuffled away quickly. “You will go to the hospital wing and then to my office immediately.”

Jason wiped his bleeding nose with his wrist. “I’m not going to the hospital wing.” He muttered, spitting out blood.

“Then you will come with me.” The professor dragged him out of the hall with her. The second he was gone you were able to relax a little and despite your protest, Sirius brought you to the hospital wing.

James had met you in the corridors and went with. Now they both sat beside the little hospital bed you were given. “Who was it?” James asked curiously, even though he had a guess already.

“Jason Leveret.” Sirius answered for you. Your head ached now that your anger subsided.

“Oh, he deserved whatever he got.” James announced. “What does he look like right now?”

“Worse. I imagine he’ll be bruised for a few weeks.” Was your response. He did look worse but you probably hurt worse.

“Yeah, that’s our girl.” He said, ruffling your already disheveled hair. That put a smile on your face, which was still not tended to completely. They were reminded of this.

“We’re going to go get Pomfrey.” Sirius decided, standing with James. “Remus should find his way here soon.”

Like it was rehearsed, Remus came in quickly after they left. “What the hell happened to you?” He looked worried, which got no better after seeing your face. You moved over and patted the spot next to you, inviting him to come sit with you.

He obliged, putting a hand to your face and examining it closer. “Don’t worry about me.” You told him. “I’ve looked a whole lot worse.”

“Yeah, I know. Can you tell me why you like this now?” He questioned. You explained what happened, leaving out the specifics of what was said about him. None of it made him look any less concerned.

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” You said much quieter and his face finally softened.

“Hon, you don’t need to get into a fist fight over me.” He stated. You moved closer to Remus, settling into his arms. He planted the softest kiss to your forehead

“Of course I do.” You replied. “And I’d do it again. Who knows, maybe next time he won’t be so quick to open his mouth.”

“We both know that’s not true.” His body shook slightly with his laugh, smoothing your hair with his hand. You were finally able to relax in his arms, feeling the tension wash away. “I know he’s a prat, but why did it make you so mad?”

You sighed. “Because you, Remus, are off limits.”

[7s3ven]

GOOD LUCK, BABE! coriolanus snow + lucy gray

IN WHICH… coriolanus snow is obsessed with a girl from the Academy and goes to great lengths to keep her to himself.

“When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night. With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife.”

Warnings/notes (woah, that’s a lot) : LONGGG oneshot, lucy gray x fem! reader mentioned, bisexual reader (closeted), bisexual lucy gray, possessiveness (coriolanus), snake and song bird spoilers, not rlly following plot, differing details, y/n’s family is distantly related to the romanovs, angst, death of a baby, dark, abuse, mentions of murder, mainly in coryo’s POV, mentions of attempted suicide, messy marriage, medicated pills, anxiety mention, mental health issues mentioned, some manipulation

A/N: I tried to search something up for this BUT I ACCIDENTALLY SEARCHED “DARK DAYS CANNABIS”

—

Coriolanus Snow had been brought up in a wealthy family within the Capitol. At least, they were rich. They lost their status and money during the Dark Days when his father was killed in the war.

Coryo could still remember what he had witnessed. The blood spilt, the weapons raised, and the hunger. The hunger that got so extreme for some people that they resorted to a barbaric crime. He could still remember seeing a man carve off the leg of a maid. The visions engraved into his mind kept his awake at night, which was obnoxious when he was trying to sleep between the hours he spent studying.

Tonight would be different, though. He had received an invitation to a party, courtesy of his friends who had snuck his name to the host. They all thought he was as equally as rich when in reality, he didn’t even have a speck of dirt to his name.

Coryo arrived at the large mansion in his usual appearance; his dark eye bags concealed, perfectly styled blond hair, and pale skin which victorians would have killed for. Even with ghostly hued skin, Corio knew he was attractive. He saw the way girls eyes him up and down like he was a piece of meat. He felt slightly disgusted by them but he enjoyed the attention they gave him.

The ball room of the mansion was practically glittering as he stepped in, his gaze wandering over numerous expensive paintings and architect features fit for a Roman king.

His friends hadn’t given him much information as to who the host actually was but he instantly knew.

Y/N L/N was a year older than him and studied at the Academy too. She was due to start the University next year. That was really all Corio knew about Y/N L/N. Her family carefully planned what details they shared with the public, which admittedly weren’t many to begin with.

Coryo knew the L/N’s managed to stay on top, even during the Dark Days, but he always wondered how. He didn’t even register how Y/N L/N was walking towards him until she tapped his shoulder, charmingly smiling like she did to all her guests, yet it made Coryo feel special. Like that tilted grin was reserved for him.

“Coriolanus Snow, so glad you could make it.” Y/N uttered.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Coryo repeated his practised script that he had prepared. He wasn’t a very social person but he knew somewhat befriending Y/N would have its benefits in the future.

She was wealthy, well-known, and clearly the favourite of various professors at the Academy. Crossing the wrong path with her was asking for a death sentence.

“Allow me to show you around, Coriolanus. It’s the least I can do for someone as important as you. My condolences to your father as well.”

Coryo felt a bitter feeling well up in his throat. His father had given their family a prestigious title, without him and his money, they were nothing. He kept up with the facade, revealing how broke he truly was would only make him an outcast.

“You must be excited about the 10th Hunger Games offer.” Y/N spoke to make small talk as she guided Coryo through the building, occasionally pausing to explain something. “You were chosen as a mentor, were you not?”

“Yes. I was. For District Twelve.” Coryo responded. He saw Y/N visibly scrunch up her nose. District Twelve was infamous for being poor and weak, the runt of litter. Their profession was gathering coal but they didn’t have the glamor other Districts had. That’s what made them so unlikable. “If I remember correctly, were you not also given an offer to become a mentor?” He questioned.

“I turned it down. I am far too busy with my studies as I am. I do not have the spare time to mentor some kid who will only disappoint me.”

Y/N spoke with harsh and blunt words, but she wasn’t wrong. In the end, there could only be one victor and the odds of that was 1 out of 12.

“Nevertheless, Dr Gaul has still given me permission to see the tributes after they are chosen.” Y/N had always been curious, even when it didn’t serve her. The fear of missing out drove her forward.

Y/N stopped in front of a large painting, gazing up at it. “The Romanovs.” She stated. Everybody knew how the L/N’s were distantly related to the Russian family, they bragged about it at every party. They, or rather Y/N’s father, was also convinced that they were related to Julius Caesar. “I keep telling my mother to take the painting down and let the Romanovs rest in peace, but he refuses.”

Y/N resumed walking, leasing Coryo down a dim hallway. The lights flickered and although Coryo was not one to get scared, the eyes of the paintings that lined the walls made him uneasy.

“This is the room with the best view.” Y/N said as she unlocked a door and gently pushed it open. It creaked and Y/N immediately strode forward. Coryo adjusted his tie and followed her. Without a word, Y/N opened the doors leading to the balcony and showed Coryo a small smile.

She motioned for him to look. The garden was lit up with different coloured lights swirling around. Joyful music was playing and Coryo could hear the sound of laughter over it.

“How stunning.” He piped up, gaze raking over the various guests below. “For a moment, I thought you were going to murder me when you took me down that corridor.” That was his sorry excuse for a joke. Nevertheless, Y/N quietly laughed.

“We can never seem to get those lights to work.” She explained. “Shall we return back to the party? Your friends must have arrived by now.”

Coryo only nodded his head. He trailed behind Y/N through the twists and turns of the mansion, listening to the faint noise of classical music and Y/N’s heels clicking against the tiled floor.

“It was lovely speaking with you, Coriolanus.” Y/N nodded her head in acknowledgement as they returned to the glittering ballroom.

“My friends call me Coryo.” He said out of instinct, forgetting who he was talking to. Y/N L/N was not his friend. She was an acquaintance, a companion, somebody Coryo should be associated with but could never be friends with. She didn’t have friends, she had people who benefited her.

“I look forward to our next conversation, Coriolanus.” As expected, Y/N ignored his nickname offer. She smiled as she subtly established that they were not friends.

Coryo returned her polite smile. “Me too, Y/N. Enjoy your party.” He watched as Y/N walked towards her school companions, greeting them. Her small yet exclusive group consisted of only the best people. There was another heiress, two military leaders’ sons, and a few more spoiled girls.

Coryo found his eyes glued to Y/N as he stood in a corner, leaning his back against a stable pillar. If he hadn’t been watching so carefully, he would have missed the looks one of the girls gave Y/N and how she subtly reached for Y/N’s hand every five minutes to brush against it then draw back.

This caused Coryo to raise an eyebrow. He knew the look of a crush, all the girls in his year looked at him with lovestruck eyes of awe. This girl, who he identified as a mayor’s daughter, was nothing better. Coryo wondered if Y/N even noticed. She seemed oblivious as she conversed with a boy across from her about what seemed like serious matters. Coryo saw the strain in Y/N’s jaw and the furrow in the boy’s brows.

Y/N L/N fascinated him and despite all of Coryo’s instincts to look past whatever effect she had on him, he could not ignore his burning curiosity.

—

The next time Y/N and Coryo spoke was at the Academy after the tributes had been chosen. Coryo was on his way to greet his tribute from Distract Twelve, a brunette girl going by the name of Lucy Gray Baird, when Y/N called out for him.

“Coriolanus!” She exclaimed, excusing herself from her conversation with the same boy from the party and a girl in Coryo’s class. “Are you going to pick up your tribute?” Y/N asked as she got closer to him. She said it like the District Twelve girl was nothing more than a pet. Though, in the capital’s eyes, she was below the status of a pet.

“Yes. Would you like to accompany me?” Coryo knew what Y/N wanted so he gave her the offer before she could ask. Despite the shining excitement in her eyes, Y/N only faintly smiled.

“Yes please.” She calmly answered. Coryo stuck out his arm for Y/N to grasp, a sign of politeness. Having done this many times, Y/N snaked her hand around his bicep, lightly gripping it.

“How was the party?” Y/N questioned, tilting her head to the side. “I hope it wasn’t too boring for someone like you.”

Coryo’s jaw clenched but he made sure not to show it. Y/N was above him, he knew. It was common knowledge to him. And although Y/N didn’t know the truth, she thought she was superior. She’d be surprised when she found out she actually was.

“It was all about politics. If I had known you were going to show up, I would have invited more people with similar interests to you.” Y/N smiled, searching for a sign that she was getting under Coryo’s skin.

He simply shook his head. “I am invested in politics, though I do not show it. Many of my classmates favor the government running currently whereas I oppose them. They are relentlessly taxing us only to give our hard-earned money to those who do not deserve it.”

There was a hum of slightly approval from Y/N. “I am glad you agree with my opinion. Many of my companions are blind-sighted as well.”

That was the end of their conversation.

Coryo fidgeted with the long-stemmed white rose he held in his free hand, a gift Tigris had urged him to give his tribute. There was no one else at the train station save for the pair. Y/N’s grip on Coryo’s arm never wavered as the hot sun beat down on them.

“They never manage to keep the trains on schedule.” Y/N stated with a small sigh as she broke away from Coryo to sit on a nearby bench. It was then that Coryo noticed she was not in her Academy uniform.

She was dressed in a solid black skirt, a fitted white blouse, and a slightly cropped black blazer with golden buttons. Coryo’s gaze lowered to the pretty bow that was tied around her collar then to her Mary Jane heels.

The pair waited an hour before Y/N let out an exasperated sigh and quickly stood up. “I’m getting a drink. Would you care for one?”

“Black coffee, please. No sugar or cream. Thank you.” Coryo replied. He liked his coffee bitter.

“Of course.” Y/N walked off to find the nearest coffee shop, which wasn’t far. It was just down the road. Coryo tapped his foot, waiting for Y/N to return.

When he heard the sound of her heels against the stone, he turned his head.

“Still no train arrival?” She asked as she handed Coryo his steaming coffee. She held an iced tea in her hand, taking short sips occasionally.

Another hour passed.

Sweat trickled down Coryo’s back.

Y/N had walked off again, this time to get pastries. She dropped a paper bag into Coryo’s lap, smiling. “I thought you’d be hungry since all you have is that rose. I don’t think it’d be very tasty.”

Y/N bounced her leg as she leaned back, resting against the wall behind her.

The minutes crawled by like snails. It was painful to wait.

Y/N’s eyelids began to droop, no doubt tired from staying up all night to study. Coryo was struggling to stay awake too, the heat of the sun beating down on him.

His head tilted to the side, feeling heavy, before it accidentally landed on Y/N’s shoulder. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were closed. She made no move to shake Coryo off, which made him conclude that she had fallen asleep.

Coryo let his eyes close for a split second. He didn’t expect to fall asleep. The next time he opened his eyes was when he heard the loud train whistle. The short train screeched to a sudden halt. It sat there for twenty minutes without assistance until a peacekeeper unlocked the chains and banged on the door with his baton, yelling at the tributes.

Y/N was the first to stand up. She watched as the tributes were harshly dragged out of the first cart. There was a furrow in her brow as the peacekeeper yanked a pale-skinned girl out, causing her to fall. The poor girl barely caught herself with her bound hands.

The peacekeepers banged at the door, shouting threats at the reluctant tributes. Coryo hesitated to move so Y/N plucked the rose out of his hand, sparing him small teasing smile.

“Hurry up, Coriolanus.” She whispered. Y/N strode towards Lucy Gray, whose eyes were glued to her. Coryo watched as Y/N paused in front of Lucy Gray. The brunette’s head was tilted up as she softly gazed at Y/N.

“Welcome to the Capitol.” Y/N greeted the brunette, holding out the white rose. Coryo wasn’t far behind Y/N. His hands lingered on her shoulders as she stared at Lucy Gray.

“Are you my mentor?” The District Twelve girl asked.

“Unfortunately not. Coriolanus here is your mentor.” Y/N said. Coryo saw Lucy Gray’s shoulders slump. She had been hoping for Y/N to be her mentor. “I best get back to the Academy. I have some work to do.” Y/N turned her head to speak to Coryo. “Lovely meeting you.” She politely smiled at Lucy Gray.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Lucy Gray asked as she played with the rose in her hands, referring to Y/N who had hurried off.

“No.” Coryo answered a little too quickly. “I’m Coriolanus Snow. Nice to meet you, Lucy Gray.”

—

Whenever Coryo went to visit Lucy Gray, Y/N would join him. Her arm was always wrapped around Coryo yet she spoke to Lucy Gray more than she spoke to him. Coryo was starting to think Y/N was only tagging along to see the District Twelve girl.

Coryo couldn’t help but let his gaze dart between the two girls who were locked in a laughter-filled conversation, separated by bars. Coryo could recognise the look of wonder in Lucy Gray’s eyes when she looked at Y/N but he clenched his jaw when Y/N started smiling at her more than him.

He was a better fit for the L/N heiress. Lucy Gray was merely a district girl, nothing more than that. She could never give Y/N what Coryo could. Coryo could make her dreams come true while Lucy Gray would only destroy them.

Soon enough, Y/N started visiting Lucy Gray without Coryo. He watched from a distance, tapping his foot in annoyance. Lucy Gray wasn’t even worth worrying about because Y/N was still loyal to her duty. As the only child of the L/N Family, it was her duty to continue the legacy. That started with marrying someone worthy, which Lucy Gray was far from.

Y/N wasn’t allowed to visit Lucy Gray before the Hunger Games started, so she passed on a message through Coryo.

“She says good luck.” Coryo uttered. He didn’t need to specify who the message was from, Lucy Gray already knew. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” Coryo said as he handed Lucy Gray another white rose. He eagerly watched as she smelled the rose which carried the scent of Y/N’s perfume to conceal the poison he had added.

He had grown infatuated with Y/N over time and he was determined to get to her before Lucy Gray, even if that meant slipping small doses of poison to her, which wasn’t enough to kill her but it would hinder her senses.

Despite wanting to prove his fellow mentors wrong because he was naturally competitive, Coryo was still clinging to a bit of hope that Lucy Gray would be eliminated early on during the game. She was not.

Coryo almost wanted to send a drone at her himself.

Y/N always stood beside him, not minding how Coryo laced his hands with hers. She was far too focused on the screen whenever Lucy Gray appeared on it.

Despite secretly rooting against Lucy Gray, he couldn’t help but be stunned when her singing lulled the snakes. They didn’t attack her, which made Coryo’s eyes narrow. He glanced at Y/N, who was subtly fidgeting. Clearly, she had used some sort of tactic to make the snakes docile only to Lucy Gray.

“She won.” Y/N whispered as all but one of the tributes were finally eliminated. “She won. Stop the games.” But nobody moved. “She’s won. Let her out!” Murmurs arose as Y/N’s voice rose in volume. She tugged on Coryo’s sleeve.

“Let her out. She’s the victor.” Coryo repeated Y/N’s words as he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. It fell, creating a loud clanging noise.

“Lucy!” Y/N exclaimed as the brunette girl exited the broken down arena. She hugged Lucy Gray while Coryo lingered behind, far enough to not understand what Lucy Gray was whispering to Y/N.

“Y/N, you have to run away with me. Please. It’s not safe for you here. You may think you know these people but you don’t. He’s going to kill you one day or another.” Lucy Gray gripped Y/N tightly, begging her. She saw the darkness in Coryo, even if nobody else could.

“Good job.” Coryo said as he walked closer, interrupting Lucy Gray. He pat her on the back but the gesture felt almost like a warning. Before their conversation could continue further, Y/N heard her father call out her name.

Lucy Gray’s victory would ensure Coryo the Plinth Prize, making him realize that maybe Lucy Gray surviving wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The rewards, however, were short-lived when Coryo was accused of cheating by Dean Highbottom. Of course, it wasn’t him, it was Y/N. But Coryo would never admit that.

He was given two options. Either enrol as a peacekeeper or be exposed. He had to choose the first to escape being disgraced. He had clawed his way to the top with what little he had and he’d rather die than let go of it.

Lucy Gray and Y/N had long split ways but Coryo saw the way she searched for the brunette in every crowd. He knew they exchanged letters. He knew everything about Y/N, not because he was a creepy stalker but because Y/N willingly shared information.

Coryo knew her favorite color, her favorite pair of shoes, her favourite skirt.

He knew how she hated drinking a carbonated beverage after eating spice.

He knew Y/N down to every minor detail. All her hobbies, all the useless details she spilled to him, all her dark secrets.

He knew she had blood on her hands, having killed during the Dark Days out of pure necessity after being attacked.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself? There’s no maids to do your bidding.” Y/N adjusted Coryo’s shirt out of instinct.

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured her for the seventh time just as he had done with Tigris.

“No offence, Coriolanus, but you don’t belong out there. I give it three months tops before you lose your mind.” Y/N joked. He quietly laughed, tapping her chin. He would have grabbed it and kissed Y/N if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was hopelessly in love with a district girl.

Coryo knew that until Lucy Gray was out of the picture for good, Y/N would never kiss him back.

“I’ll write to you.” Coryo said, determined to overflow Y/N’s mailbox with letters from him instead of Lucy Gray.

“Good luck, Coryo. I’ll be here waiting for you. And tell her I say hi.”

Coryo nodded. He refused to relay the message but Y/N didn’t need to know that. Coryo planned to make Lucy Gray believe Y/N had forgotten her. He didn’t care what he had to do; steal Lucy Gray’s mail, whisper fake words to her, even forge a letter. He’d do it all to ensure Y/N was his to keep.

Days as a peacemaker weren’t easy. Despite having more food than he had in the Capitol, the work was laborious. Coryo didn’t even get a chance to stumble into Lucy Gray. He was losing his mind, just like Y/N predicted. He might’ve committed suicide if it hadn’t been for Sejanus Plinth, his good friend from the Academy, suddenly showing up.

The twisted events after Sejanus’ arrival shook Coryo. He had found Lucy Gray with her old lover, Billy Taupe, constantly trailing behind her. She sang at a bar of sorts, her voice echoing off the walls. Coryo had attended one of her performances for Y/N’s sake, not expecting Lucy Gray’s song to feel so targeting.

“When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night.” Lucy Gray locked eyes with Coryo as she sang, making him feel a little uncomfortable. He had a theory as to who this song was based around. “With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife. And when you think about me, all of those years ago, you're standing face to face with I told you so.”

To make matters even worse, Sejanus was acting rather suspicious, always whispering with Billy Taupe like they were planning something. Coryo’s suspicion was proven true when Sejanus revealed his plan to flee North.

The first to die was Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter who had stumbled across a meeting and threatened to rat them out. Coryo had shot her.

And when Billy Taupe threatened to shoot Lucy Gray, Spruce shot him.

Sejanus was next, hung for treason and rebellion. Coryo could still hear the jabberjays repeating his last words, driving him insane. He still had one more person to deal with before he could be transported to District Two for elite training. And that was none other than Lucy Gray. As long as her name existed, Y/N would never truely be Coryo’s.

Lucy Gray escaped the bullets shot at her but Coryo knew she wouldn’t dare return. All he had to do now was wipe away her existence, brushing her off as a mere ghost.

Coryo returned to Panem crueler than he had left. The bloody stains on his hands deepened in color as he secretly poisoned Dean Highbottom, only adding to his rising kill count.

He had created the life he knew he deserved. He was powerful, respected, and known so it was not a surprise when the L/N’s reached out to him with an offer for an arranged marriage. Y/N never spoke about it to him but he knew she would prefer him over a complete stranger.

It was late at night when there was an abrupt knock on the door. Coryo had just gotten back from a long day of studying, barely having the chance to pull his long coat off. He slowly opened the door, peeking past the smooth wood to see who was outside. He raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw Y/N. She had a bleeding head, blood dripping from the various cuts on her face.

“Can I come in?” She asked but Coryo was already stepping aside and opening the door wider.

“Sorry if the house is messy. We’re renovating.” He lied through his teeth as he pressed a cool towel to Y/N’s head to stop the stinging.

“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.” She replied. Y/N didn’t even need to think to assume that Coryo was telling the truth. She believed every lie he carefully fed her.

“I always thought I lived in a house with an angry man… turns out it was my mother.” Y/N uttered, leaning against Coryo for support. It was no secret that Y/N’s mother was anything but kind. She pushed Y/N and her father past their limits.

And she always blamed Y/N for what seemed like the fun of it. The fights were usually only verbal but it had gotten of hand this time and shards of glass were now embedded into Y/N’s skin.

Coryo didn’t sleep much that night, too busy overlooking Y/N’s condition. She was bruised and battered, it had taken an hour to pull the shards of glass out even with Tigris’ help. Y/N was sleeping soundly now, her hand wrapped around Coryo’s wrist to comfort herself.

Lucy Gray couldn’t hurt him anymore. He had gotten what he wanted and he refused to let go of it until his dying breath.

Their wedding was grand and over the top, regarded as Panem’s greatest event. Coryo made sure the wedding distracted Y/N from thinking about Lucy Gray, which he knew she did. He would catch her reading their old letters which she kept hidden in a box. Y/N was under the impression that Lucy Gray had fled somewhere so nobody could find her. Of course, that was a letter orchestrated by Coryo.

With Coryo working alongside the Gamemakers and becoming a favoured candidate for presidency and Y/N’s position as a revered lawyer, the couple lived a good life. Coryo would never again know poverty and hunger. He would never have to eat those awful Lima beans again.

Coryo was so focused on his future and keeping his life the way it was now that he failed to notice the cracks in his marriage until he and Y/N no longer ate in the same room or spent any time together. Yet even then, he barely acknowledged it, his ambition pushing him forward.

Every word he uttered to Y/N was laced with poison, for he was beginning to resent her. She made him vulnerable and weak, the two flaws Coryo hated the most.

Their house was no longer happy, it felt like walking on eggshells and thin ice. Every week was filled with a new argument. Perhaps Y/N was starting to loathe him too because she never spoke when he was around, only sending him a harsh glare.

“You remind Lady Snow of her mother.” One of the many maids spoke as she adjusted Coryo’s pillow. He had fallen ill but Y/N never visited him. He could see why now.

Y/N hated her mother after the night she had thrown a vase at her head. She had married Coryo to get away from her mother, yet another version of abuse continued to plague her.

It was about a year after their marriage when Y/N became pregnant.

Coryo was still hard at work with his new job of president, which stressed both him and Y/N. Y/N was expected to be the perfect wife in front of other political women; never mad, never sad, never showing any emotion. It got to the point that she had to take prescribed medicine to calm down her rising anxiety.

Coryo was often out late, leaving Y/N to tend to the house and everything else herself. She ate dinner alone, looked at her work documents alone, slept alone. It felt like her husband was no longer in her life because he left early in the morning and never returned until midnight.

Sometimes she’d stay up just to feel the mattress dip as Coryo climbed into bed, his hand resting on Y/N’s waist for a split second before he retracted.

She often found herself waking up at three in the morning, haunted by nightmares of Lucy Gray. Y/N placed her head in her hands like she always did, letting a shaky breath pass her lips. Lucy Gray was right, she was nothing more than Coryo’s wife, if she was even that to him now.

Y/N was, to put it lightly, exhausted in every aspect a person could be. Her numerous medicated pills prescribed to her for various mental issues were giving her a headache and she couldn’t even recall the last time she had spoken to Coryo. She thought that since she and Coryo had gotten along so well before his peacekeeping training that their marriage would be similar to that. But it seems something in District Twelve had changed him for the worst.

“How is my baby?” Y/N asked the doctor, her hands clasp together on her lap. “You said last time he was doing good. How is he now?” She softly smiled, something she hadn’t done in a while. When the doctor hesitated, her smile faltered. “He’s still doing good… right?”

The doctor silently removed his glasses. “I’m sorry.” He uttered, shaking his head.

The death of her baby was all her fault. It was the pills and the constant stress no doubt. Y/N walked through the street, feeling numb. She crashed into various people but she couldn’t hear their angry shouts, the ringing in her ears was too loud.

She returned back to the house, fully prepared to lock herself in her room and break down. Maybe even take all her pills in a desperate attempt to join her baby. She wasn’t expecting Coriolanus Snow, her absent husband, to be perched on the sofa with a wad of newspaper in his hands.

“How was your appointment?” Coryo questioned as he flipped the page of his newspaper, not bothering to look up at his wife. This was the first time he had spoken to her in a week. He hardly ever came out of his room to eat with her anymore.

When there was no reply, that was when Coryo finally lifted his head to glance at his wife’s tear-stained face. His gaze studied her blood-shot eyes, her trembling lip, and the way she held a hand over her belly like she was trying to protect the baby. He pieced it all together.

“The baby…” Y/N muttered, pausing her words as she took a shaky step forward. She barely caught herself. “It…”

She didn’t have to continue before Coryo quickly stood up, casting his now abandoned newspaper to the side. His eyes were cold and unwavering and for a minute, Y/N thought he was going to strike her for being so careless of his heir. She flinched as he took quick strides towards her, expecting a slap.

“The baby… the doctors said it…” She couldn’t say it, she refused to say it. She had one job; take care of a baby and she failed at that.

Coryo didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Y/N’s shaking form. It was the first time he had hugged her in months, maybe even years. Y/N couldn’t quite remember.

“We’ll try again.” Coryo spoke as Y/N finally allowed herself to break down in his arms. He held her like he used to before their marriage became a mess. She missed the feeling of his arms around her. She missed him.

Coryo could feel Y/N’s tears wet his shirt and her sobs rack her body. He pressed a hesitant kiss to her head. “We’ll try again when you recover from this… I’ll give you the daughter you’ve always wanted.”

THG TAG LIST (comment to be added) : @bianca4ukiss

[michwritesstuff]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

Ok I don’t even know where to begin other than saying that this was my first request! After writing for over 5 years I can’t begin to explain how rewarding it is to know that someone else wants to read your work! Thank you to all of you who always like and reblog my work! Love you forever. And thank you so much for this request, I hope that you love it :)

Just Want To Be With You (Harry Potter: Theodore Nott)

summary: female reader (she/her) x Theodore Nott

notes/warnings: mentions of bad period cramps, draco and mattheo being assholes (love them, but i needed a villain) fluff, and theodore just being comforting and cute, suggestive at the end

word count: 1,300+

You knew it. As soon as you woke up you knew that you had started your period. If the cramps from the day before didn’t tip you off already, they were making their presence known now.

You didn’t always have terrible cramps, but when you did…there wasn’t anything you wanted more than to curl up into a little ball under your sheets.

Alas, the world is unforgiving to women, and you couldn’t skip all your lessons without drawing some attention. Having to explain the inner workings of the female body to Professor Snape wasn’t exactly at the top of your priorities. So, you mustered up all the energy you could and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

******

In hindsight, coming to breakfast may not have been the best idea. You were in pain and feeling quite nauseous, barely chewing on your toast as you poked at the food on your plate.

“You alright Y/N?” Pansy asked.

You gave her a weak smile as you shook your head no, gesturing to your stomach in the process. She gave you a knowing look, instantly understanding your frustration and pain.

You hoped that you would see Theo in here, he usually woke up later than you did so you knew it would be pointless to wait for him in the common room. Yet the lightly curly-headed and blue-eyed boy was nowhere in sight.

Malfoy and Mattheo whispering and giggling brought your attention back to the table.

“Look at Potter with that know-it-all mudblood, we’re going to wipe the floor with Gryffindor at tonight’s match.”

Now you weren’t exactly friends with Hermione Granger. She seemed nice enough from the lessons that you had shared with her, being a know-it-all was a pretty accurate description of her. But Malfoy was always a complete minger.

“Don’t use that word,” you spoke up, surprising the boys whose giggles and large smirks turned into sharp stares.

“What was that Y/L/N?” Mattheo spoke up.

“I said not to call her that,” you spoke again, more strongly.

Malfoy smirked before speaking again.

“What, are you friends with the mudblood? Why didn’t you just say so Y/N.”

“SHUT UP MALFOY!” you exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ you’re no fun,” Mattheo stated under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you, are you on your period or something?” Malfoy teased.

That caused both boys to laugh, along with a few first years seated a few feet down.

You got up quickly, storming out of the Great Hall. You could barely hear Malfoy doubled over in pain after Pansy had elbowed him in the stomach.

As you made your quick exit you bumped into a large figure.

“Love—”

It was Theodore. His bright smile dropping as he took in your state. Your face had reddened from the embarrassment and light tears filled your eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just want to get to class early.”

“Ok, I’ll come wi—”

“NO!” you said, a little quicker and aggressively than you intended.

“You have a game today; you need to eat. I’ll see you in class," you smiled softly, reaching on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on the edge of his mouth.

Theodore watched as you left, a sad frown gracing his lips as he continued into the Great Hall.

******

Your lessons went by as smoothly as they could, despite the stabbing pain in your abdomen.

Theo was as supportive as he could be, you hadn’t exactly told him much. He knew something was wrong, but he knew better than to pry. You would tell him when you were ready.

As you walked back to towards the common room Theo swayed your hands back and forth. You looked up at him, giving a soft smile before your eyes dropped to the ground again.

“I’m going to grab my robes then stop at the great hall for a quick snack before heading to the pitch,” he told you.

FUCK…you forgot he had a match tonight.

“You know, I’m not feeling too well. Would you mind if I just stayed here?”

Of course it would be ok, Theo would never make you do anything that you didn’t want to.

 You loved going to his games and supporting him. He’d give you your favorite quidditch hoodie of his and look to the stands to see you cheering and screaming louder than anyone.

“I—Yeah…Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just not feeling too hot,” you smiled weakly.

“Good luck tonight, I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You hugged him tightly before giving him a soft kiss and walking up the stairs to your dorm room.

******

Hours had passed and you could assume that the match was over and Slytherin had won from the cheering and chanting that echoed up the stairs from the common room.

Your cramps were relentless. You took a steaming hot shower, and while the pain had subdued for a short moment, it had returned.

You were currently in the fetal position, clutching your stomach as tears fell from your eyes, your transfiguration textbook thrown aside as your homework was long forgotten.

Too caught up in your pain, you hadn’t heard when someone entered your room.

Theodore was terrified to find you curled up on the bed, soft whimpers leaving your lips.

“Darling!” he exclaimed, dropping his bag at the door and hurrying to your bed.

Your eyes shot open at the noise, turning your head to face him as he made his way over to you, your gaze softened.

“How was your game?” you asked.

“Y/N, enough. Please love, what’s wrong.”

There was no more hiding the pain, you were literally curled up in front of him.

“I’ve had the worst cramps all day and the pain just won’t go away. I tried to do McGonagall’s assigned reading, but I just couldn’t focus,” you said as the tears began to fall.

Theodore moved your books to the floor before moving you slightly so he could sit next to you.

“Why didn’t you just say so love? You know my mom makes that special tea.”

“I—I was embarrassed. Malfoy and Mattheo were being mean, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“What?”

“You didn’t overreact. You have every right to feel how you do right now. I’d like to see Malfoy have cramps. I’m sure he’d be even more insufferable than he is now.”

You chuckled softly at his statement.

Theodore always had a way of making you feel seen. He was your boyfriend of course, but he was also so much more than that. He was your best friend. Everything between you too was effortless, he never made you feel like a burden. You felt silly thinking that you were.

“What do you need from me?” he asked gently.

“Just want to be close to you,” you whispered softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Now that I can do,” he said as he stood up.

“Theo, no, where are you going?”

Without answering you, he walked across your room and pulled his hoodie from his bag.

As he returned, you sat up slowly. Reaching for the hoodie he shook his head.

“Arms up.”

You happily complied and let him put the hoodie on you, pulling it on completely before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

He shifted you away from him so he could cuddle up behind you. Pulling you close, he rested his hand on your stomach, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

You pushed your body back slightly, wanting to be as close as you could to him. He inhaled slightly at the friction before tightening his arm around you.

“You know, I remember reading some muggle article that says sex supposedly helps with cramps.”

“Oh shut up” you laughed.

“I’m serious,” he laughed with you.

Turning your head slightly so your lips could meet with his, you gave him a quick kiss before pulling back.

“I love you Theo.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

check out the rest of my masterlist :)

[mrsmikaelsxn]

His Obsession

masterlist

pairing: tom riddle x female reader

warnings: somewhat stalking, obsession, possessive, kissing, fluff

summary: you were a new student and you have taken the interest of tom riddle, he decides he wants to know everything about you

a/n: i'm a sucker for obsessive tom, what can i say

song: we belong together - ritchie valens

Tom Riddle. A name that brought fear to most students. He was powerful, and had intelligence that the professors admired. He excelled in all of his classes with flying colors.

He knows most things about all the people in his year, and a good amount of stuff about the students in higher and lower years as well.

So it was a bit of a shock when he saw you stroll into the great hall. Headmaster Dippet had called you up to the stool to be sorted into your house.

After a short while, the hat called out Slytherin. He couldn't be more grateful, seeing as how you were a sight for sore eyes. Many people must agree seeing as there were many others that seemed to be checking you out.

He quietly observed all of your movements from where he was sitting, trying his best to read you.

His 'friends' noticed his almost zoned out gaze and called his name. His attention was brought back in front of him as he looked at his followers with an annoyed expression.

The day was over as quick as it started. The next day, he noticed you were in most of his classes, allowing him to study you more. He had his followers do research on you and your family's background. He had them around the castle to keep an eye on you.

He felt a sort of pull towards you, he wanted to know everything about you.

In the potions class, he saw you sat in the back. Normally he would sit in the front of his classes, but he took the seat next to you today.

"Hi," you greet with a nod, looking at him take out a quill.

"Hello, I'm Tom RIddle," says, voice like silk.

"Y/n," you smile at him.

"What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"My family moved, I used to go to Beauxbatons," you explain. He hums and turns his attention to the professor.

Since then, you have become almost friends. He began to tutor you for potions, the one class you did not have an outstanding in. You still had high marks for that class, but you wanted to try and get all O's.

He had taken a great liking to you.

He most likely wouldn't admit his feelings, he thought it was impossible for him to feel such things because of him being conceived under a love potion. Yet, you come along and prove him wrong.

He wasn't really one for public affection, but he was different in private.

Even though he didn't necessarily do things such as holding your hand, or having an arm around your shoulder, people would say he was obsessed with you. His eyes and attention were wherever you were.

There was something about you that was so ethereal to him.

Whenever someone looked at you for too long, or in a bad way, he dealt with them when you were somewhere else in the castle.

Today was the day of your date with him. He had finally decided to ask you to accompany him on a 'picnic' as you called it. He said it was just a meal outside but you discarded that.

He used his wandless and non-verbal magic to quickly set up the secluded area as you got ready.

A bit later you met him there and couldn't stop a bright smile from forming. He loved your smile, it was one of his favorite things about you. He would always find a way to make you smile, and if you weren't with him, he already had it engraved in his mind for him to imagine.

"Hello, y/n. You look lovely, as always," he greets you kissing your hand.

"Tom," you blush and avert your eyes. "I think you look dashing as well," you smile and pat his chest.

"Well, come sit," he says as he goes to sit in the spot set up. It has a beautiful view of the mountains and the Black Lake.

"This view is stunning," your eyes shine, taking in the phenomenal scene in front of you.

"Mine is too," he says gazing at you.

"My goodness Tom, stop with your flattery," you laugh covering your face to hide your even more reddened cheeks.

"I am only speaking the truth," he replies, bringing his hands to your wrists and pulling your hands from your face.

"You are the most exquisite person I've met," you pat his cheek.

"I know," he grins. You roll your eyes and go to resort, when you felt his lips on yours.

You recover from the temporary shock and kiss back. You had fancied him for some time now. You knew he was different with you, but never would you have thought he would return your feelings. No kisses have ever felt this intimate before, the way he kissed you was as if he was trying to show you how much he cared for you.

You had to pull back for some air after a minute.

"Tom," you mutter as he looks at your swollen lips and jovial face. This is, in fact, his first kiss. He has never felt an attraction to any other person before. On top of that, he was always so focused on his education and plans for the future.

"Y/n," he breathes out.

"What was that for," you whisper playfully.

"For you being perfect," he whispers kissing you again. When you two break apart, he asks you to go to hogsmeade with him. To which you replied with, "I would be a fool to ever turn you down, Tom," as you look at him with such love that had his heart beating so fast he thought he would have a heart attack.

[storytowrite]

|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 2

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 942

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

——————————

Monday. The beginning of the week, the end of the weekend and the end of freedom. It was a sunny day. You woke up in the morning, the sun's rays streaming through the slightly tattered blinds. You had meant to fix them a long time ago, but you could never find the time. Your parents always told you to take care of such things right away because it would only get harder to gather the motivation later, but who listens to what parents say?

You got out of bed and stretched. Time to get ready for classes. You thought. You took off the oversized shirt you used as pajamas and put on a black lingerie set. Standing in front of the mirror, you admired how the bra emphasized your breasts. You examined your reflection. The love bites left by the guy from the Saturday party had almost disappeared; apparently, he hadn't bitten you as hard as you initially thought.

You put on a black top and dark jeans. You tied your brown hair into a high ponytail and applied light makeup. Then, grabbed your bag and left the apartment. Ever since you started university, you lived on your own. Your parents had a house on the outskirts of the city, and you didn't see them very often.

On your way to the university, you stopped by a café, where, as always, bought coffee and a croissant. Sipping your fresh latte, you entered the university campus. Soon, your classes were about to begin. You headed towards the lecture hall, lost in your thoughts.

"Y/N!" Suddenly you heard a familiar voice from the end of the corridor.

"Oh, hi Woo, so you did manage to transfer after all." You smiled at your friend. "You didn't mention on Saturday that you were starting your classes here today."

"Yeah, I know..." The guy gave you a genuine smile. "I didn't want to brag until I was sure it would work out. Do you happen to know where room 214 is? This place is like a maze."

"Mhm... it's right above us, on the floor next to the men's bathroom" You replied and took a sip of your coffee.

"Oh, great! Thanks!" He grinned at you. "I'm off to class. See you later, Y/N!" He said cheerfully and walked away, leaving you alone.

You just sighed and headed to the lecture room, sipping your coffee along the way. You were almost about to enter the classroom when someone bumped into you, spilling coffee on your blouse.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" You snapped.

"Because it's my fault, right?" You heard in response and rolled your eyes.

"Can't you walk properly, Lisa?" You asked sharply, taking out tissues from your bag.

"It's not my fault you're blocking the way!" Lisa replied, tossing her hair and strutting toward her desk like a model.

You rolled your eyes. Lisa used to be your friend, but now she was your biggest enemy at the university and beyond. The two of you stopped getting along in sixth grade when Lisa accused you of stealing. Since then, Lisa took every opportunity to make your life miserable. Unfortunately, fate brought the both of you to the same major at the university.

With a quiet sigh, you took your usual spot by the wall, in the third row from the end, where you could easily do everything except take notes. You hated art history lectures. They bored you, and on top of that, the lecturer was old and spoke too slowly to focus.

You glanced at your watch. Strange. You thought. The lecture should have started a long time ago. You looked around the room. Other students also seemed to wonder where the professor was. He usually arrived five minutes early, and now ten minutes had passed since the lecture should have begun, and he still hadn't shown up. Some students started packing up and preparing to leave. Some were already standing up, when suddenly the door opened, and a quite short man entered the room, who was by no means their lecturer.

"Dear students, the class hasn't ended yet. Please take your seats." He spoke up and placed his folder on the desk before leaning against it. He casually rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, with the top two buttons undone. He looked much younger than their usual lecturer, and he was much more handsome. "My name is Lee Minho. You can call me Mr. Lee." He introduced himself. "I'll be substituting for Mr. Kang until the end of the year as he has some personal reasons preventing him from continuing to teach this subject." He informed the students. "At the end of the class, please sign your names on this list." He added, placing a white sheet of paper on the desk. "Shall we begin?" He asked, looking around the room.

You observed the man closely. His black pants perfectly accentuated his muscular thighs. The white shirt tucked into his lower garment gently hugged his torso. His dark hair was slightly tousled by the wind. He wore glasses, which added some seriousness to his appearance. He looked intimidating, yet his voice was gentle. You recognized that voice… Your eyes met. You stared into his dark brown eyes and froze. It was the same man with whom you had sex in the club's restroom a few days ago. Shock painted across your face.

"What the fu..." you covered her mouth before you could utter the last word. You knew that if anyone found out about what had happened between you and the lecturer on Saturday, you would be in trouble.

——————————

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

-> Series Masterlist

——————————

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict

[glutengoblin]

Too Sweet (Part 1) - Sebastian Sallow X Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Ari! I used to write fanfiction back in the day, but took a break for a while. I've recently decided to restart my writing journey. This is the first of many pieces I have in my drafts - please let me know if you enjoy it, if you'd like to see more from me, and if you have any suggestions! I would really appreciate it.

This story is inspired by "Too Sweet" by Hozier, which I have been playing on repeat for days at this point.

Also, if you'd like to be friends, please reach out! I would love to get to know you!

Summary: Sebastian has a problem, and that problem is his best friend. She is simply too sweet for him, and can't get her out of his head. Will he do something about his feelings, or choose to continue to keep them a secret? (She/Her Pronouns, House Neutral)

Word Count: 2.6 K

______________________________________________________________

10 am was typically when Ominis could expect his dear friend and roommate to show his head on a Saturday morning. Though Sebastian always managed to get up for classes for time, the weekend struggle of being left to his own devices never seemed to evade him.

Ominis raised an eyebrow as he felt the brunette sit in his typical spot, with a bit rougher descent than usual. To the casual observer, Sebastian’s hair looked particularly unruly this morning - a sure fire sign he had an “interesting” night.

Without even bidding Ominis good morning, Sebastian poured himself a large cup of black coffee. He inhaled the scent as he brought the mug to his lips, hoping it may bring him back to life. The first sip was always the best to him - his now typical 3 am escapades had made him dependent on the bitter substance. And at this point, he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Sebastian reveled in the night time, enjoying the time away from prying eyes, time where he could truly focus on his work.

Even without sight, Ominis could tell Sebastian had a rough night- The tell tale smell of smoke covered him, a sure fire sign that he had been up late practicing confrigo in the undercroft, or perhaps a more dangerous location.

Despite the events that had occurred during the end of his fifth year, eventually Anne had chosen to forgive him. After many long conversations, Anne had also given Sebastian the okay to continue with his research, but only if he swore to Merlin that he would no longer go anywhere near dark magic. So far, he had managed to keep his nose clean- but his desire to help his sister his sister was strong as ever, so he opted to spend as much time as he could looking for a cure. It being his seventh year with N.E.W.T.S quickly approaching, Sebastian had been struggling to find time during the day to work on anything other than his studies. Despite the common misconception, Sebastian was actually one of the best students in his year. Having grown up with professors for parents, a jest for learning was instilled within him from early life.

So far, Sebastian had managed to stick to his plan: study during the day, research at night. The one downfall to Sebastian’s focus was Y/N. Ever perfect, sickeningly sweet Y/N, who seemed to be unaware of how absolutely mad she drove him.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, Sebastian had been in love with her since she first knocked him on his ass during Defense Against the Dark Arts. Being one of the best duelist at Hogwarts, Sebastian was not used to being beat so easily- Especially by someone who had only know of the existence of magic for less than a year. Though they were good friends and spent exorbitant amounts of time together in the undercroft, Sebastian still could never get enough of her. Her presence was like a drug to him. He often found his eyes stuck to her during lessons, during meals, basically any time she was in the near vicinity of him. Right now, his eyes tracked her across the great hall, as she had an animated conversation with Garreth. He stared, trying to determine what topic had gotten her so excited, hoping that one day he may be able to bring it up “accidentally”. His focus was so great that he barely noticed Ominis’s hand waving in front of his face.

“Earth to Sebastian… Are you still in there?” The blonde looked at him, puzzled, until he followed Sebastian’s gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slightly disappointed sigh.

Sebastian startled a bit, and turned to look at his friend. “Yes, what exactly did you want to talk about Ominis?” Ominis muttered something to himself about Sebastian’s inability to listen to any one but himself, before responding.

“I had asked if you were still planning on going to the Three Broom Sticks tonight. Natty, Poppy, Imelda, and Amit are all insisting we go.” Sebastian looked down at the table, taking another sip of his coffee, trying to weigh his options.

“You might just have to go without me, I have a very interesting lead that I-”

“Y/N will be there.” Ominis cut him off with a slight smirk on his face, waiting for his friend’s reaction.

“On second thought… Perhaps you could count me in. I could also read more of my book from there.” Sebastian let out a sheepish smile as Ominis tisked, not surprised at Sebastian’s sudden change of heart at all.

Sebastian looked away, drawing another long sip from his coffee, before looking up. To his surprise, he found the object of his unadmitted obsession standing right before him.

Y/N had walked over, clearly excited about something, as she eagerly took a seat across from the boys at the Slytherin table. “Well if it isn’t my two favorite friends! How are you on this fine moment.” Sebastian let out a soft chuckle, studying her face with a gentle smile.

“Nothing much… What’s got you all excited today?” Y/N grinned, leaning in a bit more to whisper to the two.

“Well, I just found out its Imelda’s birthday today. And I was thinking it would be a wonderful idea to throw her a surprise party! We’re all going to the Three Broom Sticks anyway- might as well set up a few decorations while we’re at it.”

Ominis let out a slight huff, looking at Y/N with a puzzled look on his features. “Are you sure she won’t have your head for doing that- I mean, this is Imelda we’re talking about. I don’t really want to clean up whatever blood is spilled from the after math.” Y/N let out a chuckle, taking Ominis’s hand and squeezing gently.

“While I appreciate the concern, I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’m going to make it Quidditch themed!” She grinned in excitement, sending a small shiver down Sebastian’s spine. He longed to be the cause of that type of grin one day.

Ominis shook his head, giving her a small smile. “If you say so, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sebastian choose to chime in at that point, “Let me know if you need any help. I’m not exactly sure what I could do, but I’d be happy to assist in any way possible.” Y/N looked thoughtful as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the same pitcher Sebastian had used earlier - the only difference being that she choose to dump an exorbitant amount of sugar and milk into her mug too. She preferred her morning beverage sickly sweet, quite the opposite of Sebastian. Still Sebastian found it endearing, he loved watching her try to make the perfect concoction… Gosh, he was a goner.

Ominis, a bit disturbed by the silence at the table, choose to elbow Sebastian in the side at that moment. “Anyway, it was great to see you Y/N. Sebastian and I must be going. I need to pick up some supplies from Pippins.” Ominis stood, waiting for Sebastian to join him.

Sebastian stood as well, flashing her one last smile. “Send an owl if you need me.” He followed Ominis out of the great hall, much to his dismay.

_____________________________________________________________

Spring had just begun to show its face as Sebastian and Ominis approached the path to Hogsmeade. The sun was out, which added a bit of warmth to an otherwise chilly day. The trees still hadn’t recovered their leaves from the fall prior, but the grass was beginning to show hints of green, a surefire sign that warmer days were soon to come. Lost in silent contemplation, Sebastian had his arms crossed behind his back as they meandered at a casual pace. Eventually, Ominis broke the silence with a question that Sebastian had been dreading asking himself.

“So, when are you planning on divulging your feelings to Y/N?” Ominis said expectingly. Truth be told, he had begun to grow a bit tired of his friend's endless pining. At first, it was heart warming to see 5th year Sebastian focused on someone other than Anne for once. But at this point, especially with graduation approaching, Ominis hoped his friend would build up the courage to do something about his feelings that seemed to be almost all consuming.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he often did when worried - it was his nervous tick. Sebastian considered his options, but he was long past being able to lie to Ominis about his feelings at this point. Everyone with eyes, except for Y/N of course, seemed to be aware of the brunette’s strong feelings for a certain ancient magic yielder. “Honestly Ominis… Probably nothing. Truth be told, I think she’s too good for me. You see how selfless she is- she constantly puts everyone before herself, running errands for them. How could she possibly like someone like me? I mean,” he let out a small chuckle, “I can barely keep up with my work. And I almost drove her down the path of dark magic once… Who says she even really trusts me at this point? She’s too sweet for me. She be better off with someone like Garreth.”

Ominis let out a small sigh as he continued to walk, a bit displeased by his friend’s ignorance of the situation. After all, it was pretty obvious that Y/N returned his affections if one took the time really observe the situation. After all, Y/N had told Ominis just last week that she had actually turned down Garreth when he asked her on a date. Ominis considered telling Sebastian this tad bit of information, but decided to keep it to himself instead. Sebastian needed to figure this out on his own.

By this time, they had reached the bridge and were joining the busier streets of Hogsmeade. “Whatever you say Sebastian, but I think you’re wrong about her. Perhaps you should try a make an advance at the party tonight.”

Sebastian let out a chuckle at that, shaking his head. “You’re impossible… but perhaps I’ll try, should the opportunity present itself. Its also funny, I think this is the first time you’ve actually admitted you have feelings for her.” Sebastian punched him gently in the arm at that, letting out a small huff.

They made their way to Pippins, only stopping to throw a spare coin in Ernie’s hat as he put on yet another one of his magical street displays. Truth be told, Sebastian had a decent feeling about tonight. Though he was still hesitant to potentially affect their friendship, his feelings for Y/N had reached a breaking point.

______________________________________________________________

After their Hogsmeade excursion, Sebastian and Ominis had made their way back to the castle to prepare for the recently declared surprise party. Typically Sebastian wore whatever he could pull out of his closet first. This time though, he took his time trying to decide between his limited collection of jumpers. Growing frustrated, he flopped back on his bed in the dorm he and Ominis shared, startling his roommate a bit.

In typical Ominis fashion, Ominis was already ready to go and looking rather dashing at that. Sebastian often found it ironic that his blind friend could clean up better than he could - not that it was hard to do, Sebastian tended to rely on his decent looks to make a good impression.

“Are you almost ready to go Sebastian? We need to leave in 5 minutes if we don’t want to be late for the festivities.” Sebastian let out a groan, staring up at the dark green canopy that covered his plush bed.

“Almost, I just can’t decide what jumper to wear. I’m thinking maybe the green one?”

“How very Slytherin of you. I think that’ll be fine, Sebastian. If you’re worried about Y/N, I think she’ll like whatever you wear.” Sebastian relented and pulled on his favorite green jumper, running a brush through his hair a couple of times (for the first time in longer than he’d like to admit), and even added some the woodsy cologne Anne had gifted him for Christmas as a special touch. Looking in the mirror, he felt his outfit was suitable enough for a party. His brown boots, khaki trousers, and dark green jumper all suited him nicely. For good measure, he grabbed a book, just in case he should find himself in a situation where he needed it. It was rare nowadays to find him without one, anyway.

Once he was fully ready, Ominis ushered him out the door, eager to depart the Slytherin common room before Imelda had the opportunity to try and hound them for information as to why everyone was suddenly acting strange.

Thankfully, they made it out of the castle interrogation-free, and started making their way towards Hogsmeade for the second time that day.

______________________________________________________________

Not that he had ever doubted her, but what Y/N had managed to pull off in just a day was truly amazing. As Sebastian and Ominis walked into the Three Broom Sticks, they were greeted with a full range of decorations - green streamers crowded the ceiling, confetti containing mini brooms and snitches was splashed across the tables, which were also covered in deep green table clothes. Music was playing in the background, a testament to Y/N’s ability to plan. She truly thought of everything.

As the pair made their way over to the bar, Y/N ran to meet them, engulfing them in a massive group hug.

“You made it! I was getting concerned that you wouldn’t show up. I wouldn’t be a party without the whole gang here!” She gave them a toothy grin that made Sebastian’s stomach turn. He had to admit, though he typically regarded himself as a strong person, she had a way of making him turn into absolute putty in her hands. If she flashed that smile at him, he would simply do anything she requested, without hesitation.

Ominis broke Sebastian’s pining thoughts with a small chuckle. “Well, I’m sorry if we were almost late. But I’ll have you know that its because our dear friend here couldn’t decide on a jumper. For twenty whole minutes.” At that, Sebastian laughed sheepishly, rubbing his neck with his hand as his eyes pointed towards the floor.

“What can I say, I dress to impress.”

After a few more pleasantries, Y/N had to return to host duties and disappeared from sight. This left Sebastian and Ominis to the bar, where Sebastian intended on staying. Typically, he would have a drink and hand and start making the rounds, perhaps sliding a few flirtatious remarks towards any fellow Hogwarts students that caught his fancy. In this instance, however, it felt almost traitorous. It had since he had developed feelings for her. Honestly, it had felt that way since the day he met her. The first day, when she handed him his ass in DADA and still had the audacity to be nice about it.

Giving Sirona a proper greeting, Sebastian soon enough had his beloved butterbeer in hand. The sickly sweet syrup of the drink always seemed to sooth him, reminding him that no matter how dark his thoughts may sometimes get, at least sweet things exist. One of those was Y/N. His thoughts simply couldn’t escape her at this point, replaying her like the melody from a song one has heard multiple times, but could never place. Somehow, he instantly knew her and didn’t - but he certainly longed to learn more.

Ominis let out a small huff, tapping Sebastian’s arm lightly. “Sebastian, you are still there, aren’t you? You’re rather quiet… Especially for you.” Sebastian sighed, and gripped Ominis’s arm, mulling over his next words.

“Yes I am… and I think it’s time that I finally do something about my feelings for Y/N.”

[cloudcountry]

WELL WELL WELL! LOOK WHAT TIME IT IS!

IT'S 'LET'S ALL CELEBRATE AUBERGINE'S GROWTH TIME'!!!!! (in all seriousness, congrats :3 )

May I order an iced coffee in a Mostro Lounge™ sponsored collaboration cup with a slice of dark chocolate & white chocolate pound cake, please? (thinking about meeting up with an old friend from my college days wink wink, nudge nudge)

REMEMBER TO TAKE BREAKS, DRINK WATER, EAT SOMETHING, AND TOUCH GRASS!!!!!

HI DOVE!!! THANK U I DIDNT THINK ID GET THIS FAR LMAO baps you. I WILL REMEMBER I HAD CHOCOLATE MILK AND A COOKIE TODAY RAHHHHHH

an order of platonic fluff with divus crewel!

Catching up with people after graduation was difficult. Graduates from Night Raven College were spread out all across the world in a myriad of industries, always climbing to the top of their group. After doing some soul searching during your higher level schooling, you’d decided to become a teacher and head right back to where it all started.

It was baffling to see just how much had changed in the six years you’d been gone, even if it was something as small as the arrangement of desks or the positioning of cauldrons. You’d spent so much time gawking at the new additions to the alchemy lab that you totally missed an all too familiar figure approaching you from behind, a rolled up whip in hand.

You jump when someone calls your name from right behind you and turn around, prepared to apologize for getting too lost in your thoughts when—

“Divus!?” you gasp, a hand flying over your mouth, “Great Seven, it’s been so long!”

“And you still have that dopey look on your face. Really, have you changed so little?” he shoots back, greeting you warmly with a friendly hug and a smile.

“And you still have that self important attitude.” you grumble, punching him gently in the ribs, “You’d think you would have gotten rid of that once you started teaching these boys.”

“And girls.” Divus says fondly, “I assume you heard the news about Night Raven going co-ed?”

“Did I!” you laugh, “I’m so happy Crowley caved to the pressure. Telling him it would give the school more praise and recognition was the right move, huh?”

Divus laughs, deep and rich, and it makes you laugh too. You’d missed the friend who helped you play pranks on Professor Trein, who went with you on snack runs in the middle of the night, who helped you sneak in and out of your dorm so you could come see him.

You’d missed him, and here he was. Fate had brought you two right back to each other.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Sergeant Kyle Gaz Garrick Headcanons

Part One

Words: 600~

TW: None (sfw)

Part Two

Y'all are powered by spite alone, istg. Gaz won the poll by one vote, ONE! I had soap's shit lined up and ready to go and y'all really said 'nah, no thank you'

Here's your prize,

Hope You Enjoy!

Gaz is slow to trust. He does not like strangers, and often feels on edge around new people. He isn't outright rude, in fact he's often downright friendly. He knows better than to alienate unknowns and make unneeded enemies for his team by acting hostile.

Ghost often validates Gaz's suspicious nature by asking him for breakdowns of potential weaknesses and if someone's likely to become a problem or a liability. 

Gaz shows a lot of love through acts of service, if there's anything that the 141 needs or needs done he'll make sure it happens, often before they even realise it's going to become a problem.

Gaz has a habit of referring to other people as NPCs. Particularly groups of people that ostensibly have a use, but only ostensibly.

Gaz cusses A Lot. He uses swearing, snark, and sarcasm as coping mechanisms, particularly in stressful situations. He doesn’t like directing his vitriol at his teammates, but situations, enemies, unknowns, strangers, acquaintances, and friends are all free game.

Cannot stand ticking or tapping noises, especially when he can't find where the sound is coming from. Rattling vents and unbalanced ticking ceiling fans are the banes of his existence. | At first he tried to be casual when he brought stuff up to Price, “So, have you noticed that the third light in the breakroom buzzes and flickers a bit when it's on?”, but now he just straight up tells Price what bothers him. (Price tells maintenance, but if they're being too slow Price has been known to just fix it himself.) | Soap, with his pathological need to bounce his legs, is on thin fucking ice. Gaz can usually ignore it if Soap keeps a consistent rhythm, but when Soap's fidgety he starts to drive Gaz up the wall.

Not great at sharing. Leaving the last piece of something, in case someone else might want it, is not something that would ever cross his mind. If someone doesn't directly ask for something, he's assuming they're not interested.

He's cannot do constructive criticism. He's got the criticism part down pat, but rarely cares enough to struggle with making it constructive. He embodies that video: Be Nice. ‘I'm finding it.’ It takes you that long? ‘It does, It does.’

He's an only child. His mom, Gemma, is a Biomedical Equipment Technician, and his dad, Arthur, is a Semi-Retired English Professor. He was mostly raised by his dad, as his mom's job kept her out of the house most days. His dad actually became Semi-Retired to be a Stay-At-Home-Dad and raise Gaz. Arthur Garrick has published a few textbooks and still goes in for the occasional guest lecture.

Gaz's bedtime stories were books like Le Morte de Artur, the Iliad, Lord of the Rings, the Robert Frost Compendium, and Narnia.  

When Gaz was learning to write his dad taught him cursive, leaning towards calligraphy. To this day Gaz's printing looks like a ten year-old's. Meanwhile, his writing is very pretty to look at, but nearly illegible. His signature is completely unreadable, it's just a very elaborate pile of loops and slashes.

Occasionally forgets the words for things. His brain does this thing that he likes to call Playing Wheel of Fortune, where it will let him remember the meaning of the word, and sometimes what the word rhymes with, or its first letter. | These moments all go something like this: “You can’t pin that on me! You've only got… fuck what’s the word, where its a person in a place and they're getting blamed for something. It’s like a lawyery thing.” A court? “No no, it's like they got caught, but they were in the wrong place and it’s only if you put it together a certain way it looks bad. Like a bad impression, but serious. It’s a long word. I think it starts with S… Circumference? No. Situation? Something like that.” Circumstantial? “Yes! Circumstantial! Circumstantial Evidence!” I saw you eating my crisps, that's not circumstantial evidence.

Thank You for Reading!

PekoeHoneynCream's Headcanons

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Vampire Wedding Part 1

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Galileo: "Mitsuki."

While walking down the street to buy groceries for dinner, someone suddenly called me from behind.

When I turned around, I saw Galileo, probably on his way back from the university.

Mitsuki: "Galileo, I mean Professor Maury."

I hastily corrected myself after accidentally calling him by his first name.

Mitsuki: "Are you done with work? You're early today."

Galileo: "Yeah. Things have finally calmed down a bit."

Recently, his students' research seemed to be reaching a critical point, so he had been busy and usually came home late.

Galileo: "Are you in the middle of shopping?"

Mitsuki: "Yes, I'm getting ingredients for tonight's dinner."

Galileo: "I'll join you."

His hand reached out and effortlessly lifted the basket I was holding.

Mitsuki: "Wait, it's heavy!"

Galileo: "That's why I'm carrying it."

He naturally carried the basket filled with groceries and started walking.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, I walked alongside him.

Galileo: "What else do you need to buy?"

Mitsuki: "Well, I was thinking of getting some bread."

Shopkeeper: "If it's bread, then this just came out of the oven!"

Hearing my words, the shopkeeper cheerfully called out.

Mitsuki: "Wow, it smells great. Then, I'll take that bread, please."

Shopkeeper: "Sure thing! We have plenty more, so take your time, Mrs.!"

(Um, what?)

Shopkeeper: "Oh, carrying the groceries for you, isn't he? Your husband is very kind."

(H-Husband!?)

The unexpected remark caused my cheeks to heat up, and I couldn't respond immediately.

Galileo: "Carrying bags is no big deal."

Shopkeeper: "Oh, you're quite the gentleman. How about I add something extra for such a handsome husband?"

Galileo: "Thank you."

Unlike my flustered self, he smoothly accepted the bread.

Galileo: "Let's go, Mitsuki."

Mitsuki: "O-Okay."

Even after returning home and sitting down to dinner, I kept thinking about what had just happened.

(Married couple, huh? Being seen that way made me a little happy.)

Galileo: "You seem unusually happy since earlier."

Startled, I realized he was looking at me curiously.

Mitsuki: "I-It's nothing. This bread is really delicious!"

(I wonder if such a future could ever happen.)

It became our routine to have coffee in his room after dinner.

Mitsuki: "Galileo, I brought some coffee."

Galileo: "Yeah."

When I entered the room, Galileo was meticulously cleaning an instrument at his desk. The wooden, rounded instrument looked somewhat familiar.

Mitsuki: "What kind of instrument is that? I've seen it before but don't know its name."

Galileo: "This is a lute, a string instrument."

Galileo: "It's been stored here for a long time. I felt like playing it again, so I was cleaning it."

Seeing him pick up the lute, a certain scene suddenly crossed my mind.

(Ah...)

------------Flashback-----------

Galileo's Father: "I'm in a good mood. Let's play a tune."

Galileo: "I'd like that. I always liked the sound of you playing the lute."

---------Flashback Ends--------

It was a scene from his past.

Galileo: "I'm going to play a piece now. Is that okay with you?"

Mitsuki: "Sure! I'd love to listen."

He nodded and began to play the lute.

The familiar melody brought back memories of that gentle night air, stirring an ache in my heart.

(I wonder what he's feeling right now.)

He had a soft expression on his face as he plucked the strings.

As I admired his profile, the performance came to an end, and he gently released his hands from the lute.

Mitsuki: "That was a beautiful piece."

Galileo: "My father taught it to me."

Galileo: "He often played this piece during family time."

Galileo: "I don't know why, but I felt a strong urge to hear this piece again tonight."

He gazed at me intently and murmured, "Yeah," as if he had come to a realization.

Mitsuki: "Is something the matter?"

Galileo: "It's because you're here."

His amethyst eyes reflected me directly, and my heart skipped a beat.

Mitsuki: "Huh, me?"

He softened his expression ever so slightly and gently caressed the lute he held on his knee.

Galileo: "Lately, I've been able to recall the past with a calmer heart than before."

Galileo: "Instead of piercing pain, I feel a warm nostalgia growing."

Galileo: "Spending more time with you like this has gradually changed something inside me."

Galileo set aside the lute and turned towards me.

His amethyst eyes gazed into mine.

Galileo: "Now that I've realized that, I want to move on to a new relationship with you."

Mitsuki: "A new relationship?"

His large hand reached out, gently enveloping mine.

Galileo: "Mitsuki, will you be my wife and family?"

Mitsuki: "………"

My heart swelled with warmth at his straightforward words, filling me with an overwhelming emotion.

Galileo: "From now on, I want to play this song with you as a family."

Mitsuki: "........"

While savoring the overwhelming joy, I tightly squeezed his hand in return.

Mitsuki: “I’ve known for quite some time that you are irreplaceable.”

The voice I finally managed to squeeze out was hoarse, but I managed to string the words together.

Mitsuki: “Please let me be a part of your family, too.”

I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, and he gently hugged me.

Galileo: “Thank you, Mitsuki. I love you.”

He lifted my chin, and his soft lips met mine.

Mitsuki: “I love you with all my heart.”

Closing my eyes, I accepted the kiss as if we were exchanging vows.

Eventually, he released my lips and peered into my eyes.

Galileo: “If you’ll become my wife, there’s something I want to do.”

Mitsuki: “What is it?”

Galileo: “It’s an ancient vampire marriage ceremony.”

With determination in his gaze, Galileo stroked my cheek.

His hand slid down and touched my neck, confirming the warmth of my blood.

Galileo: “Will you exchange a blood oath with me?”

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Premium ╎ Epilogue

⤑ Story Events Masterlist

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Hi😊 i hope you're having a nice day!

Could i request a Larissa/21-22 Student reader(young teacher if you're not comfortable writing it with a student)fic with prompts 1 and 50 please? (Smut)

R have a big crush on Larissa. One night, she was walking past Larissa's room when she heard moans, she couln'd believe what she was hearing, she stopped and decided to take a peace of paper and write #50 on it with a 💋 with her lipstic (yea she's dumb like that), not writing her name and slip it under Larissa's door and ran back to her dorm. Larissa had no idea who could've wrote that and she was very embarassed that someone heard her..yk... The next day when Larissa walked past R in the hallway, she thought she saw a weird look in R's face and then she saw the lipstic, that lipstic, and it just clicked in her head. She always thought R was a bit of a tease with her but she never thought anything about it, but now.. Larissa decided to go to R's dorm, not knowing what she would do when she'll reach it. And what she heard throught that door, she thought that maybe she could pay R back for what R has done to her.😉 She openned the door slowly so R won't hear her and closed the door behind her, then she wispered #1. And then it would end up full of smuth, you can add as many kink as you want, even toys if you like, please?😊 (was this request too specific? I hope not😕)

Thank you if you decide to write it, i really love your fics and i really wanted to ask one too! And thank you even if you don't, for reading this!💋

A way too shy anon😅

i took some liberties with your request, i hope you don't mind! i made reader a 27yo phd student and it's a non-magical au! also..... i know i was probably expected to write a short, smutty thing, but before i knew it had a plot and it was 4000+ words whoopsie please don't hesitate to leave a comment on ao3, it makes my heart sing! <3

without further ado, enjoy some larissa x reader smut :) tags: car sex, mommy kink and idk how to tag adkjfshgd

You walk through the dark, empty corridor that leads to Professor Weems’ office. Most people have retired for the evening — it’s late, way too late for an official meeting, but given that lately you’ve been getting rather friendly, you hope she will excuse the informality. You know you will probably find her there, as she often works long into the night — and you��really need her help with this chapter. The deadline for your PhD is rapidly approaching and you are still nowhere near done. 

She truly is a great mentor — always happy to meet with you and answer any questions you have, ready to spend hours going through your work and analysing materials you brought her. You somehow always end up spending a lot of time together — more often than not ending up in deep and heated discussions about various subjects (that sometimes relate to your work, and sometimes don’t) after you’ve finished discussing your thesis. You feel like you could talk to her the entire day without getting tired — she is remarkably intelligent, knowledgable on many subjects — her taste in art exquisite, and her takes are often unique. She always leaves you with several book recommendations (“Read this, darling, I am very curious what you will think about it,” she usually says and writes down a title or two, “read it when you find the time for it, of course — you have a thesis to write,” she winks — you somehow always find the time, sometimes sacrificing those few precious hours of sleep). 

Larissa Weems is also very, very attractive. She is an unusual looking woman — very tall, imposing, with platinum blonde hair and a peculiar fashion sense — she dresses like a movie star from the 1940s — but she is ridiculously charismatic, expressive, charming. Her laugh is contagious, her eyes bright and sparkling — you can’t be blamed for being absolutely enamoured with her.

You thought about asking her out once you get your PhD— age difference be damned. You are a 27 year old woman — you are free to do as you please. It’s just that, well — she is your mentor,  at least for now, and even if she wasn’t, she is just way out of your league. You don’t even know if she likes women, (probably not, knowing your luck) — and if she does, there is no way she would like you (even if you did have a very interesting discussion about sapphic undertones in The Marriage of Figaro — that scene between Susanna, Countess Rosina and Cherubino is rather… sexually charged — she seemed to share your opinion).

Lately, you feel your relationship has reached a deeper level — your meetings would almost always end in a nearby bar, where you’d relax with a glass of wine and continue your conversation late into the evening. Last time, she got slightly tipsy and became rather touchy-feely (she seems to be one of those people who are get very affectionate when drunk)— putting a hand on your shoulder, brushing against your leg under the table (then immediately apologising and pulling away), and when you got back to campus, she hugged you before parting ways. You can still recall very vividly how warm and soft she was and how she smelled faintly of sweet perfume and red wine. Since then you can’t stop imagining her touch — in very inappropriate ways. You try your hardest not to get too invested, though — she is your mentor, first and foremost. 

For all those reasons, you conclude she won’t be terribly upset at you if you barge into her office at this late hour. Worst case scenario, she tells you she’s too busy right now. 

You are just about to knock on her office door when something stops you dead in your tracks — a sound.

A moan.

You stand in front of the door. You hear nothing for a couple of seconds and almost knock again, certain you’ve imagined it (because why would anyone be moaning here at this hour?), but then you hear it once more.

It’s coming from her office. Is she with someone (your heart sinks at the thought, and you immediately scoff at yourself — as if you ever had a chance)? 

You know the appropriate thing would be to leave immediately, but something keeps you there, standing in front of the door, listening. 

The moans continue, and there is no doubt about it — that is her moaning, and there is no one else with her. It’s very clear what she is doing.

You should leave, but you stand there, frozen, listening. You don’t really want to go. 

Her moans sound heavenly — they send delicious jolts straight to your core. You can’t help but wish you were the one making her moan. 

Later, when you get back to your room, you don’t know what possessed you to do what you did. Might have been sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose, or lack of proper meals from days of working on your thesis non-stop, might be that she is the most attractive woman you have ever had the pleasure of knowing and her moans were just too much for your tired brain to handle — but you take a piece of paper out of your notebook and write a very inappropriate thing on it.

I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong — it's your moans.

You stare at the note for a couple of seconds. The moans coming from her office are getting louder — she must be getting close to… 

…your brain short-circuits at the thought.

Without thinking, you place a kiss on the piece of paper, leaving a coral-coloured lip-print on it. 

Inside her office, Professor Weems keens. 

You slip the paper underneath her door and run back to your room. 

You continue working through the night, falling asleep on your desk around 5am. You wake up at 8, and by then the whole episode feels like it might have been a fever dream.

You still need her help with the chapter, however, so you send her en email asking if she could squeeze you into her schedule today. You get an answer almost immediately.

I am terribly busy today, but I could see you during lunch break. We could eat out together and go over the chapter, if you’d like. Please send it to me beforehand so I can read through it and make notes! :-) 

Sent from my iPhone

(You find her boomer smileys very endearing.)

You try your best not to think about last night’s events. You are lucky she can’t recognise your handwriting, given that you always write everything on your laptop. 

You steal an hour of sleep, take a shower and put on some lipstick and mascara before leaving to meet her at cafeteria for lunch. If you’re lucky, you will succeed at pretending last night never happened.

You are not lucky.

You can’t stop staring at her mouth as she talks, as she chews her lunch, imagining all types of lewd sounds coming from it. It’s downright erotic, the way her lips move — no one should look that sexy chewing food.

“Darling? Are you with me?” she asks, making you snap out of your inappropriate daydream.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just a bit spacey today,” you answer, embarrassed, wondering if she caught onto your staring.

“How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last couple of days, darling?”

“Uhm… in the last three days, I think I got about ten hours combined.”

“You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I know, but there’s just so much work to be done,” you sigh. “Is it supposed to be this hard to get your PhD?”

Professor Weems chuckles (the loveliest sound). “I’m sorry to inform you that it is — at least if you want to do it properly.”

“How was it for you? When you were getting your PhD, I mean? It’s hard for me to imagine you going around disheveled and sleep deprived. You always look so put together.”

“Ah, darling, it’s one of the perks of reaching a certain age — you can finally afford some of life’s little luxuries, such as sleeping six to eight hours a nigh. However, I absolutely did go around disheveled and sleep deprived. I was living off of caffeine and salted crackers — I was a rather pitiful sight. I’m glad I did it, but I’d never go back.”

“So you’re telling me life is easy in your forties?” you tease.

“I said easier, not easy. I do still get terribly stressed about things. I was rather stressed yesterday, as a matter of fact. I have so many things to do today, and I will be working late again.”

“And what do you do to relieve the stress?” you ask before you can stop yourself. You know very well what she did yesterday to relieve the stress.

“Oh, this and that. Usually I watch something that takes my mind off work.”

(“Porn?” you think.)

“I think we should get going though, darling — lunch break is almost over. Let me just fix my makeup,” she says and pulls her signature red lipstick and a compact mirror out of her bag. She fixes the edges of her lipstick expertly.

“Do you need to fix your lipstick, darling?” she asks, handling you the mirror.

“Oh, I might, actually. Thanks.”

Only when you’re done fixing your makeup and you hand the mirror back to her do you realise she has just watched you put on the same lipstick you used to leave a lip-print on that wildly inappropriate note you slipped under her door. 

You look at her, your stomach twisting with anxiety, searching for any sign of recognition on her face.

Her face is unreadable, but you wonder if she holds eye contact with you a little longer and a little more intensely than usual. You might just be imagining things, though — you are terribly sleep deprived.

“Thank you, darling,” she says, giving you a bright smile. “Shall we?”

The cafeteria door is a bit narrow, so you step back to let her pass first, but she puts a hand on your waist and gently pushes you past her. Your shoulder brushes against her as you do so. Being this close to her makes your heart beat faster and your limbs turn to jelly.

You look up at her (she is so tall). She’s smiling at you. It’s a bright, toothy smile that makes your insides melt and your brain become mush. 

“I will be working late tonight, so if you need any help you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“I can spare an hour for my favourite PhD student.”

“Your only PhD student.”

“You should just accept the compliment, darling.” She squeezes your shoulder and winks. “Good luck with your research. Try to squeeze in an afternoon nap. Ta-ta!”

She turns around and walks in the direction of her office, leaving you standing in front of the cafeteria like an idiot. As she walks away, you stare at way her hips move in the tight skirt pencil skirt she’s wearing. After a couple of seconds, you realise your mouth is open, so you quickly close it before anyone notices you are behaving like a horny teenager. 

You slowly drag yourself to your room. As you sit down and start going through the notes she gave you during lunch, your thoughts keep drifting to her ass in that pencil skirt. You sigh.

This is going to be a long day.

By the time evening comes, you are nowhere near finished with the chapter that was giving you grief yesterday. You know what needs to be done and you have finally found the right source to support your argument, but you have a hard time concentrating, and that makes you work in an excruciatingly slow manner. Your thoughts are scattered and you keep thinking about the deadline that looms over your head. Stress and sleep deprivation are truly starting getting to you (it also doesn’t help that your thoughts keeps drifting to Professor Weems and her tight pencil skirt). You wonder if you should take a quick power nap, but you are so caffeinated and anxious you doubt you could sleep if you tried, despite being exhausted, so you continue to push through.

It’s around 9pm that you hear a knock on your door. Before you can react in any way, the door opens and Professor Weems is standing in your room.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, darling. I just wanted to check how you’re doing before I retire for the evening.”

“Not so well, I’m afraid. I am nowhere near done with this chapter. I know what I need to do, it’s just that it’s going so painfully slowly.” You bury your head into your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry I’m being so whiny about this. I am just so stressed.”

Professor Weems approaches your desk and sits on it. Her thigh is just next to your head. You look up at her.

“Darling, you are working yourself too hard. I would tell you if I thought you are terribly behind with your research, but I honestly think you’ll make it. Don’t forget, I have to sign my name on your work — I would never lie to you about your progress to make you feel better — so trust me when I say you should let this go for tonight and come back to it when you’re less sleep-deprived.”

“But—”

“No buts. Come on, I am taking you out for a glass of wine. You should relax. It’s painful to watch you like this.”

You would never decline a glass of wine with Professor Weems, so before you know it you are sitting in that bar near campus having a glass of red wine (that turns into two and then into three glasses). The alcohol is getting to you, since you haven’t eaten that much today — you feel warm and fuzzy and slightly drunk.

Professor Weems seems to be getting tipsy as well, because she is getting very touchy with you again. She laughs at your stupid jokes (her laughter is one of your favourite things about her — loud and unabashed and melodious) and touches your shoulder often, sometimes letting her hand linger way longer than necessary. At some point in the evening her leg touches your own underneath the table.

She doesn’t move it, nor does she apologise. 

“You were right, Professor Weems, I did need this,” you say. “I’ve been feeling really out of it for the last couple of days.”

“Oh, I told you already, call me Larissa, darling. Professor Weems is so formal.”

“Are you big on formalities, Larissa?” you ask. You decide to try and push your luck — your confidence is not that high, but you are not an idiot. You are pretty certain she is flirting with you, unless you are completely delusional because of sleep deprivation. 

“Usually yes, but as you’ve probably already concluded by my taste in literature, I do think life would be terribly boring without letting the irrational, passionate streak in us win sometimes. As is the case in many literary classics — the plot simply couldn’t move forward without one of the characters disregarding propriety and doing something reckless and passionate.”

“I agree. I often wish I had the courage to do something like that in real life — my life would be so much more interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling. I do think you have what it takes.” She gives you a big, bright smile. “Oh, wait a second, darling, your lipstick is smudged. Here, let me.”

She leans forward and takes your chin in her hand, then brushes along the corner of your lip with her thumb. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body hot with desire.

“That’s a lovely colour, darling. Coral suits you very well.”

She knows. She must know. 

She leans back into her seat. You decide to be bold.

“You know, I am still feeling a little bit tense. You said you like to watch something to relax — but I prefer more physical ways of relaxation. Do you have anything to recommend in that area?”

“Do give me an example, darling, what do you do to relax that’s physical?”

“Oh, I’m afraid what I do wouldn’t be appropriate to engage in at my workplace.”

There is a definite red tinge to Larissa’s cheeks.

“What’s life without a little excitement?”

“Very boring, I suppose.”

For a couple of seconds, there is silence. You are looking at each other, both of your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The tension in the air is thick and heavy.

The next thing she says takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect her to be that forward.

“Tell me, darling, did it turn you on when you heard me yesterday?”

“I—” you open and close your mouth like a fish. You can’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth — to hear her say something like that is something straight out of a wet dream, something that would only happen in your wildest fantasies. 

“I usually do it to relax — it’s a purely physical thing, but lately I have found myself thinking about you,” she continues. “Tell me, do you think of mewhen you touch yourself?”

You look her straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

You look at each other for a moment. Desire lingers in the air. She is first to break the silence. 

“Before this escalates any further, I want you to know that the last thing I’d want is to put you in a difficult situation or make you feel like you are obligated to do something. If you don’t want this, just say the word and we shall never mention it again.” 

She pauses. She seems nervous — you’ve never seen her nervous before.

“And please know that whatever you decide, it will not affect your thesis in any way. I would hate for you to be under the impression that this is transactional. I am genuinely interested in pursuing something beyond friendship with you, but I am ready to put that aside and prioritise our professional relationship if that is what you want.”

Your heart breaks as you decide to do the right thing.

“Maybe we should wait until I finish my thesis, and then… continue with this,” you say. “As much as I’d like to, it really wouldn’t be professional of us.”

“Of course. That would probably be best.”

She moves her leg under the table so that it’s no longer touching yours —- you can’t help but feel disappointed. There is a moment of awkward silence. She clears her throat. “We should probably go then, not let this escalate any further.”

“Yes,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

The walk to campus is silent and awkward. 

“It’s rather late,” you say. “I do hope buses still drive. The night lines are scarce in this part of town.”

“Oh, I can drive you home, if you want,” she says quickly. “I didn’t offer because I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I mean, if you want to. We will have to spend time a lot of time together until I finish my thesis, we might as well practice not being awkward around each other. Not that I wasn’t awkward before,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood. “You always made me nervous.”

She chuckles and the air seems less heavy. “I didn’t know I was so scary.”

“You’re not,” you say, but you don’t elaborate further (what you want to say is you look like a movie star, you are intelligent and absolutely brilliant and I am nervous because I have a huge crush on you — but that would be inappropriate given the circumstances).

The drive to your apartment is silent. The tension that built in the bar didn’t dissipate into thin air when you decided not to act on it — instead it intensified — it lingers around, hot and heavy, clouding your judgement, making you sweat even though it’s a chilly night.

She parks in a free spot just in front of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry, I acted very unprofessionally,” she starts. “As your mentor, I should have ignored your advances, but instead I flirted with you and encouraged you.”

Her red lips move in the most delicious way as she speaks, and you find yourself staring again. You remember the sound of her moans. It’s difficult to think about anything else.

“I feel terribly ashamed. I promise I will maintain a strictly professional demeanour from now o—”

You pull her into a bruising kiss. She squeaks (you find that adorable).

Pushing you away, she tries to be reasonable. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

“What’s life without a little excitement? What a novel without the protagonist disregarding propriety and pushing the plot forward?”

“I—”

“Please, Larissa, I believe you when you say my thesis won’t be affected. We are both adults. We want this. Tell me, do you want me?”

She looks at you. Desire dances in her eyes.

“Yes.”

That is all you need. 

You kiss her again, then climb over to her seat, somehow managing to straddle her lap. She abruptly pushes the car seat backwards to give you more room — you gasp in surprise and she swallows your gasp with a hungry kiss.

The way she kisses you is passionate, ravenous, desperate. You grind against each other, your hands are everywhere, and her skirt is already bunched up around her hips (the sight of her soft, white thighs in garters drives you crazy). It’s hot, it’s dirty, and it’s not something you thought a put together woman like herself would ever be caught dead doing.

“I never imagined you’d enjoy a dirty car fuck, Larissa,” you whisper into her ear as she kisses your neck. She bites it and you gasp. 

“And I never imagined you’d be such a naughty slut, grinding your pussy against my thigh, but here we are.” 

She makes even something that cheap and filthy sound delicious. It shouldn’t turn you on so much, but it does.

“Say that again,” you breathe out, continuing to grind against her thigh.

“You like it when mommy calls you a dirty slut, hm?” 

She grabs your hair with one hand and slides the other one down into your trousers, feeling your drenched underwear. 

“Mmm, fuck,” is the only thing you can say.

“So wet and needy for me already, darling?” she coos at you. “Tell me, did you imagine me doing this to you as you touch yourself, hm? Fucking you with my fingers, fast and hard, like a common whore?”

She slides her hand inside your underwear and pushes a finger into you, then, when she feels how wet you are, two. You whimper. She curls them and you cry out. “Say I’m mommy’s little whore. I want to hear it.”

“I— I’m mommy’s little whore, fuck—”

She starts fucking you, fast and hard, and there are no coherent thoughts left in your mind. She is grunting and groaning with you — it make you delirious with desire. You want to make her moan like she did last night.

You somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to bury your own hand between her soft thighs and feel her wetness. She moans as you circle her clit and her fingers lose their rhythm for a second, which allows you to put together a coherent sentence.

“Like that, mommy?” you breathe out. “Did you imagine this when you touched yourself yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whines, “please, don’t stop.”

You have no intention of stopping. You continue to circle her clit even as she starts to fuck you harder. Her moans are obscene and loud and for a second you remember that any passerby could see you, and probably hear you, but you don’t care. If anything, that turns you on even more.

What sends you over the edge is her orgasm. Her body tenses up, her moans become hoarser and strangled, and a combination of swearwords and moans mixed with your name leave her lips as she tips over the edge of ecstasy. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed. She tries to fuck you through her own orgasm, but she doesn’t manage to keep the relentless, steady pace she had set before. It doesn’t matter — you grind on her hand and cry out as you ride out intense waves of pleasure that make your limbs tingle.

She gently pulls her fingers out of you. You stay still for a while, wrapped around each other, breathing heavily, your faces buried in each other’s necks. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” you say after a while.

She nods against your shoulder. “It was.”

“Wanna do that again sometime… mommy?” you pull away, looking at her with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“If you call me that any time we aren’t fucking, I will end you.”

You laugh, and after a second she laughs as well. 

She is so pretty when she smiles — you love how those little lines around her eyes become more prominent.

“I should probably go, though. We are in the middle of the street and it’s like, 3am,” you say.

“Yes, you probably should.”

Before you go exit the car, you kiss goodnight. It’s the sweet and soft — it makes your heart flutter.

“Good night, darling,” she whispers as you get out of the car.

“Good night, Larissa,” you whisper as you watch her drive away.

As you brush your teeth, take a quick shower and get cozy in your bed, the only thing you can think about is Larissa. When you fall asleep, you dream of her sweet kisses. 

When you wake up in the morning, you feel well-rested for the first time in weeks.

[black-amortentia]

A Shower of Sparks | Festivities - Snolidays 2023

Severus Snape x Professor!Reader | Warnings: Secret relationship, fluff and maybe a little angst because FEELINGS, I finished and edited this through a migraine, so please forgive any failings!

This is my story for week four "Festivities" of Snolidays 2023! This is the final part, and we get to see a little more from Sev's POV this time. Though all parts can be read independently, there is a bit of a story linking them all together.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

--

Although half the students had gone home for the holiday, the Christmas feast was elaborate and mouthwatering as ever. Roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin juice, and a variety of other delights. The Great Hall filled with a hum of conversation instead of the usual cacophony, which was bittersweet to Severus. While less noise was less likely to give him a headache, it made his conversation with you more likely to be overheard. He would have to be careful of his words.

Being careful around you had grown increasingly difficult.

Not that you had noticed. Severus was always a master of his emotions, even when you were alone. You thought nothing of his silence, pulling him into your conversation with Professor Sprout.

“What about you, Severus? Do you miss spending time with your family during the holidays?”

“No.”

A quick, terse answer, as usual. It was a part of your subterfuge, making a show of how Severus was just as impatient with you in front of everyone. Though this interaction served as a reminder that you knew nothing about Severus’s family. If you thought about it, how much did you really know about him at all?

Under the table, Severus’s hand found your thigh. The perpetual chill of his hand seeped through your clothes, his hand just resting there. A few soft movements of his palm stroking up and down. At first, you thought he was simply in a hurry to be alone. When you saw him take a bite out of the corner of your eye, you realized he hadn’t finished his meal. You reached for the jug of pumpkin juice, brushing his shoulder with your own.

When the feast wound down, Dumbledore approached his owl lectern. “As another successful Christmas draws to a close, I invite you all to assemble outside on the lawn for a final Christmas surprise.”

The hall erupted into murmurs of surprise and curiosity. You shared glances with your fellow teachers, but it seemed this surprise was for faculty as much as for the students. None of you had the foggiest.

As people filed out of the Great Hall in, you fell into step beside Severus. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Severus slowed his steps, allowing others to fetch hats and scarves and scurry outside. Neither of you spoke until you were alone.

“Yes?” Severus drawled. His hand went to your waist, eager to touch you while he had the opportunity.

“This seems like the perfect time to give you this.” You withdrew a small package wrapped in brightly colored paper. Severus raised an eyebrow as you presented it to him.

He faltered, looking down at the object between you as if it would bite him if he moved too quickly.

Gifts? Severus knew it was Christmas, but he had not expected there to be an exchange of gifts. Severus wasn’t even sure when he’d last received a gift.

“Don’t just stare at it. Open it before someone catches us.”

Severus pulled apart the wrapping paper, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor when he saw what was within. A pair of soft, black leather gloves with an elaborate design of a snake embossed on the back. Severus was speechless. His lack of response brought a smile to your face. You had hoped to surprise and impress, and it seemed to succeed.

“I have nothing for you,” he said quietly.

You waved your hand. “I don’t care about that. I just saw these and thought you might like them.”

Severus stared down at the gloves, coming to his senses and pulling them on. He’d been wrestling with his feelings for you, struggling to understand what he wanted, what he could have with you. Wondering what you truly felt for him. Surely you didn’t care deeply for him. He wouldn’t deserve it, even if you did.

Your relationship had grown deeper over the holidays, but this gift made it clear. You really did care. Enough to keep him in your idle thoughts, enough to bring him gifts and cheer, even when he thought he did not want such things.

There was something Severus knew you wanted, something he hadn’t been able to give you. Out of fear, of a desire to protect you, he held back. Severus wasn’t sure if he could do that any longer. Maybe the best thing he could give you in return was a piece of himself.

“My mother.”

“Hm?” You turned to him, questioning, as you retrieved your scarf.

“You asked earlier if I miss my family during the holidays. I miss my mother.”

You paused your movements, your hand darting out to take his. This was the most Severus had ever opened up to you, and you would not take that for granted. “I would love for you to tell me about her.”

Footsteps down the hall caused the two of you to break apart. You flicked your wand, vanishing the wrapping paper on the floor, and busied yourself with your scarf.

A few Gryffindor boys walked past, heading for the lawn. “I think Snape’s trying to catch someone under the mistletoe. Only way he’s getting a kiss,” one of them joked, not as quietly as he seemed to think.

“Hold your tongue, McLaggen, or next time it will be house points,” Severus snapped, his voice dripping with malice. He shot you a disparaging look, driving his point home.

Frowning, you ducked your head, stung by his cruel tone. Severus preferred to keep things private, but sometimes it felt like he didn’t want the relationship at all. Staying secretive, holding you at arm’s length, sometimes pushing you away. Even those times when you were alone together, when he showed you the side of himself he kept hidden from everyone else, Severus felt closed off. You always respected him and knew he had his reasons, but sometimes it left you wondering.

What exactly were you to Severus Snape?

With the moment you were sharing thoroughly ruined, you finished bundling up. “Don’t want to miss the surprise,” you commented, following the students out to the lawn.

But your eyes said it all. All the hurt and uncertainty contained within your gaze. Severus picked up on your emotions, but his Legillimency confirmed it. Flexing his fingers in his new gloves, he followed silently after you.

Severus had once ruined the most important relationship in his life by saying the wrong thing. Was he on the path to making the same foolish mistake?

The lawn was dimly lit, students and teachers milling about. Severus stood just behind your shoulder, black cloak concealing his movements. He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. His breath lifted your hair when he whispered your name. “Perhaps we can speak later?”

You squeezed his hand gently in return. Severus didn’t hear your whispered response. He had come to a realization. If this continued, he could put you at risk. Severus had seen the Dark Mark on his arm growing stronger. He couldn’t let you be a weakness, or let you fall into danger because of him. No matter how much you meant to him, it would be selfish to keep you without telling you the truth. A truth he could never tell you.

But he couldn’t keep you at arm’s length forever. Severus knew he would lose you. Sometimes he already felt you slipping away. You deserved more than a man who only gave you part of himself. Would it be better to end things now, before he made it more painful for both of you?

Severus had to decide.

A sharp whistle pierced the air. The crowd fell silent, looking to the sky.

A crimson firework shot up over the turrets with a trail of golden sparks, exploding in a massive sphere of red and gold that lit up the night. The sparks became a red and gold Gryffindor lion in a ferocious roar. When it faded, a similar display followed for each of the houses and finally the Hogwarts school crest hovered above the sky.

While everyone watched the skies, Severus watched you. Eyes sparkling in the light of the fireworks, lips curved into that smile he delighted in. The way you held his hand in the darkness, sharing the moment together, even in secret.

Severus decided.

With a swift tug on your arm, Severus turned you around and pulled you against him. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, hand snaking around to the small of your back. Forgetting all about the fireworks, you leaned into Severus. You didn’t care if someone saw you, just as Severus didn’t seem to.

There was something different about this kiss, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. It somehow held more than your past intimate moments. More emotion, intent, care, more of everything Severus. When you finally broke away, he held your gaze, eyes filled with a resolve you’d never seen before.

“I love you.”

Severus’s voice was barely a whisper, and you felt the words more than you heard them. It didn’t diminish their strength in the slightest.

“Sev…”

“I have many things to tell you.”

Severus could never tell you everything, but he could tell you some things. You deserved all the truth he could afford.

“I want to hear all of it.” Maybe you weren’t expecting the story you would hear, but it didn’t matter. Nothing would change your mind - or your heart. “I love you, too, Severus.”

Abandoning the fireworks, Severus led you back to his quarters. He had every intention of giving you the truth he owed you, but maybe after one more kiss.

A reminder of what he would fight for in the times ahead.