#me having to stop to put my head in my hands every 10 seconds while editing this: HE'S A SWEETIE.....

[alanisstonedd]

i need a man to fuck me like he knows i need it...

cw: passion??? raw p in v, nastiness

an: just a lil ting while i pour my pussy into all these works of art yall requestedddd

need kisses like hes trying to exchange souls. crowding you on some hungry shit, the type of heat where you already breathless, already know you bout to get devoured.

need him to worship your body like hes never seen one nearly as beautiful as yours, really eat you up like you deserve. the kind of touching that feels like fire, like sparks, when you can feel how much he wants you through the way he grips you and pulls you into him.

the way he looks at you through hooded eyes like he's already imagining making you cum, like he wants you to nut because of him. a big beefy boy that actually wants to know what turns you on, just so he can do it 10 times better. the feather-light tickles where his fingertips brush already have you arching into him, so frustrated in the best way.

groaning into each others mouths at first contact, brows furrowed, locked in 110% bcs the pleasure is too delicious to stop for even a second. need him folding you into whichever position gets the loudest cries out of you, never shying away from pushing you to that limit. a sense of pride deep in his veins when you're fucked all the way out, mute from the pleasure, eyes glazed & a slight grin.

need him, eyes locked on you the whole time like he’s in a trance, your wrecked & writhing state hypnotizing him like he gets off on this show being exclusively for him. need him INNAAATTT pussy like a fisherman at sea, somehow completely drunk off the taste of you and simultaneously so so precise & purposeful about what he’s doing to your body. he knows it like the back of his hand - knows exactly where to press, rub, and suck to make you wail like he’s never touched you before.

need him to rut against the bed like his pleasure comes second, disregarding his leaking, hot cock just so he can wipe every unnecessary thought from your head - make you feel so good that all you can think about are his lips on every spot he can get to, his groans echoing through your head, his hands gripping you like the pleasure is damn near too much, and that dick that has your toes curling before its even halfway in. need him licking, sucking at you like the taste of your skin does something to him, moaning like he'll only ever be able to feel this good with you.

need the literal FORCE of his thrusts to knock the damn wind out of you, no room for a breath around the punch of him reaching deeper than you ever thought was possible - the stretch of him like new every damn time. the way he's all over you, passionate and raw, like all he'll ever need is this, like making you feel good puts him on cloud 9. need him wanting it just as bad as you do, he doesn't give a fuck if he's out of breath and heaving, he'll make you nut if its the last thing he does.

need him absolutely feral for you, acting feverish like someone said "give her the best nut of her life or die". talking you through it around his own moans, as if you could even respond. his lips never leave you, like he's speaking his love into your skin, into the fabric of you. when he thrusts extra hard, pushing a whine past your lips, you feel that nut deep in your fucking bones. not sure if its his cum filling you up, his lips locking with yours, spilling the deepest groans into your mouth, or the fireworks going off throughout your body - but you swear you can feel his love.

FANUM, ony, simon, marine!rafe

©  alanisstonedd 2025 — do not steal, plagiarise, or modify my content.

hope y'all liked this! comments, likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lana 💋💋💋

[sexyandcringe]

As much as you love to spend time with Suna Rintarou, you hate asking for it.

And as much as you hate asking for it, you still catch yourself tapping on his name, texting him to let him know you are free for the day because your friends ditched you.

Y/N: Yo, my girls went to war and left me alone and broken (they ditched me), wanna bangout?

Y/N: I meANT HANGOUT***

Y/N: We can bang too, though. Later.

It takes him around 10 minutes to reply, just as you’re about to hop in the shower.

Rin: Sure, let’s do that

Rin: When are you coming?

Y/N: I’ll take a quick shower and i’ll be over?

Rin: Bet. Text me when you done.

You leave a thumbs up reaction and head into the shower, already excited by the idea of meeting up with Rintarou.

It’s been a year now — this messy, no-strings, fwb thing you’ve got going; And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him, but these kind of things never end well for you, so you keep it casual, hit him up when you need some company (or a good fuck). it’s not like you don’t have a life; you’ve got your friends, your books to read, a job to do. You’re good on your own. 

You know Rintarou is not one for anything serious, but he is a good guy overall. He doesn’t just reduce you to a fuck-buddy, he sees you as a friend and cares for you, like friends do, but that’s all you’ll ever be to him. A friend and a good fuck.

That doesn’t stop you from parking in front of his building, walking up to the third floor stairs because his lift is always fucking broken, and knocking on his door with a wide smile and a basket full of snacks.

“Hey loser,” you greet, holding up the basket, "Got you some snacks.” 

His face remains stoic, unimpressed as he stares at you, “Fruits are not snacks, Y/N.”

Your only reply is pushing him aside and stepping inside, putting the basket on his kitchen table like you own the place. Suna Rintarou may be a professional athlete, but you really have to put up a fight with him for him to eat some fruits, and this is one of your battle tactics.

“I climbed, like, a thousand stairs. gimme some water.” you demand, flopping down in a chair around the table,  playing with the little cat statue in the middle of it. The one you got him when you were in Milan — black and white, scowling with a tiny green collar. It looks just like him and you still think it’s one of the cutest gifts you got him.

He scoffs but heads to the fridge anyway, grabbing a bottle and pouring it into your heart-shaped glass. the one you made him swear not to let anyone else touch. it was your heart-shaped glass that you bought for yourself, and since Rintarou’s apartment is like a second home to you, leaving it here was just as natural as breathing. 

“Am i your slave now?” he grumbles, setting the glass in front of you.

You grin, “You love being my slave.” 

Rintarou swears he is going to wipe that stupid grin off your face soon. Tonight.

There is always something to talk about when you are with him.

The latest drama about his new manager, your neighbour who you are 100% sure is growing weed in their backyard, your coworker who might actually be satan in disguise; and when you run out of shit to say, you end up watching anime together, stealing each other’s snacks in-between kisses. All normal, absolutely nothing weird about kissing your homies on the lips, you tell yourself, especially if said homie is a complete hot mess of an athlete with the body of a Greek god and the most annoyingly perfect hands you’ve ever seen.

So every time you hang out with Rintarou, you end up with your limbs tangled with his, sharing heavy breaths at the rhythm of his heartbeat, and while you feel so full of him in those moments, he always leaves a hole bigger than before in the depth of your soul.

You’ve lost count of how many guys dumped your miserable ass with some variation of “you talk about suna too much”. Like you could just turn your heart off for him on command.

Not that any of them gave a shit about you either — most of them just wanted a warm body for the night, which, honestly, is probably all you’re good for.

Sometimes you wonder if Rin also sees you just as a piece of meat.

Maybe he’s just really good at acting like a friend.

You tell your friends that it’s just physical and there’s no way you’d fall for someone like him, but you can’t tell them that the idea of him seeing you just as a good fuck and nothing more hurts you more than it should do.

“i’m going to italy in a few weeks,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your half-asleep body, a strawberry lollipop lazily tucked between his lips.

You remove your sheets and sit up slowly before replying: “Okay.”

It’s going to be okay. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of the country, and he always comes back to you, be it in a month or two. You’ve done it before, you can do it this time too. It’s not a big-

“I don’t know when i’ll be back.”

Silence.

Usually, you’re good at hiding your feelings from him, keeping them caged under your throat, unspoken truths that you gulp down like heavy crumbs, but today you are doing a terrible job at that.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” It slips out a little too rough for your liking, a little too desperate.

“I got a sponsorship for an italian team and I want to see where this takes me. If it doesn’t work out in Italy I may shift to Spain or Sweden like Kageyama. I don’t think I’ll be back for a while.” He quickly glances at you, as if scared to meet your eyes. fucking coward.

You sit in silence, letting his words sink, letting the emotions stabilize and settle down for once.

You nod, “I see, i get it.”

You don’t. You don’t get it at all, any of it, but you can’t let him see you this weak.

You pick up your things, from the underwear thrown across the room to the toothbrush you left in his bathroom. You kiss him one last time, a simple peck on the lips - soft, quick, nothing like you want it to be, but you hope it will leave his lips burning, and you wave him goodbye, trying your best not to look at the broken expression he’s giving you. You can’t.

Driving back to your house feels sour and empty and when you open the door to your room the first thing you see is a small polaroid on your nightstand, a picture of Rin lying in the grass, smiling wide, while Luffy, his corgi, lays atop of him, snuggling his nose in it’s owner’s neck, and then there’s you, a blur of hands and open mouth at the edge of the frame because you couldn’t make it in the picture. Yet, it was one of the prettiest pictures you’ve ever taken of Rintarou.

You stare at it long enough to feel your heart cracking bit by bit.

And you break.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

[captain-huggy-bear]

No because also Quinn to me, loves to make marks on you, but those ones that are visible to his eyes only

You're so right and so valid on this because I totally agree that Quinn is a marker. Definitely bites, definitely leaves hickeys but they're more privately placed. They're for him so that when he takes your clothes off he can get a little thrill from seeing that he's got a claim on you, knowing no one else gets to touch you or kiss you like he does. 18+ MDNI/NSFW under the cut - still think my NSFW is naff but the more you practice, right? This got out of hand and went from tiny to not so tiny... Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

Quinn Hughes does not leave hickeys on your neck. There are a few reasons for this. The first is your job. Quinn's mindful of the fact you can't just walk into work covered in hickeys, aware that covering them would make your long day even longer and be an inconvenience. Something he never wants to be to you. He'd rather you get an extra 10 minutes of sleep than have to spend those 10 minutes hiding all his marks.

The second reason is entirely more possessive and machoistic. He doesn't leave hickeys on your neck because he's too busy leaving them across your inner thighs, your hips, your stomach, your chest, because only he gets to see those areas, because only he gets to put his mouth on you like that. If he could he'd write his name in marks across your skin, a big neon sign to anyone who ever dared get that close to you that you were off limits.

But you're a good girl, his good girl and you'd never let anyone else that close. So, they're mostly for him, for his own sense of male pride every single time he takes your clothes off.

Like now. Quinn's always gentle when he helps you out of your clothes and today is no different, peeling your dress from your body like it's the most fragile thing in the world, being mindful of your hair and face as he pulls if over your head and lays it on the back of a chair. He's tender as your bra is unclasped, red marks from the band being soothed by long fingers, and your panties are stripped off until you're bare and naked in front of him. It's impossible to be self-conscious like this around Quinn with the way he looks at you like you're an altar for him to worship at, an idol for devotion and prayer.

He's loving when he pushes you back until your laying flat on the bed, shifting a pillow under your neck and one under your hips to make sure you're comfortable before settling himself to kneel between your thighs. Quinn's hands fall to your knees, warm, long fingers dancing across your knees up and up, as he takes you in.

You're gorgeous to him, always have been, but his focus isn't on your centre, wet and slick for him, or your breasts like you might expect from a man when his girlfriend is laid bare before him. No, Quinn's focus is on the fading marks littering your skin, the one's that he placed there over the course of days and weeks.

His fingers follow the fading hickeys on the inside of your thighs, you shifting with a quiet moan at the feeling across your sensitive skin. It feels like a tease. The way he grazes those marks softly, lightly, enough pressure to set your nerves alight but not enough to do anything meaningful.

Quinn reaches your hips, the fingertip shaped bruises there from a few days go when he gripped your hips so tight while fucking, so tight his mark was left there and he'd kissed them as an apology, one you didn't even want because you'd loved it. He leans forward now, lips pressing back to those marks, opening lightly to suck on them, tongue laving over them, deepening the faded purple to fresh and new, as blood vessels burst under his tongue. Your hips shift underneath him, unable to stop it as slick gathers between your thighs, clit throbbing because his attention is in the wrong place.

"Quinn..." you breathe his name out like a prayer, soft and gentle but filled with the sort of desperation that has him stopping, smirking into your hip as he looks up at you from underneath his lashes, eyes dark with want.

"Patient, baby, 'm admiring my handy work." Fingers dance back down and smooth over your inner thighs, thumbs rubbing at the crease between thigh and hip, a purposeful tease now because you're squirming and sighing and he can't help himself.

"Quinn..." You're so impatient he almost wants to laugh, but he's not done yet, wants to admire every old mark on you first and then add some new ones before anything more. You need to be patient for him, he can't be rushed right now.

"You can be patient for me, can't you, baby? You're my good girl, you gonna show me that, yeah?"

"Yeah..." It's instinct, hardwired into you at this point, that when Quinn calls you his good girl you can't help but agree to whatever he wants. You'll be patient no matter how frustrating it is, because he's asked you to be, because you want to be so, so good for him and you know you'll be rewarded for it.

"Atta girl." You don't urge him to do something again, not this time, not even as he's kissing up your hip and to your tummy, the hickeys he'd left there a week ago just about visible. So faded that it's just a shame in his eyes.

He takes his time with your soft stomach, presses his chest against your hips so you can barely squirm, barely wriggle beneath him. His lips take your skin between them, sucking and kissing until he's renewed each and every mark. The faded spots now bright red and purple, hands still grazing your inner thighs as he moves higher.

Quinn's lips follow a trail up your navel and chest, finding the marks across your boobs, the marks here varying i ages and shades of purple and red. New ones from the other day still going strong, while older ones have all but disappeared, it's a shame he thinks, that there are so many empty spots across the plush skin. There's nothing that could stop Quinn from filing those gaps, just as there's nothing that can stop your hands jumping to his hair when he begins to suck on the sensitive skin of your left breast, determined to fill the gaps.

You're squirming harder underneath him, throbbing at your core, slick with want as your fingers tug hard at his brunet strands. Still you don't ask him to stop, don't ask him to touch you more, just whimper and moan out his name in encouragement as he fills in each blank spot across your breasts.

When he pulls back finally you're a Monet painting, a Jackson Pollock of hickeys and bruises but only in your most intimate areas, only in places no one else will get to see, only for him. He smirks down at you with heavy lidded eyes, darting across your skin like the marks are the best painting he's ever seen and then he stops, eyes fixed on your thighs. His expression grows dissatisfied because he forgot to press new marks on your inner thighs, those marks fading and nearly gone, something he simply cannot allow.

You don't even get a beat to breathe, a moment to think before he's sliding down your body and pressing your hips down to the bed with one forearm, lips pressing to your right thigh and sucking hard.

"Quinn!" You can't help it, his name comes out like a desperate mantra as he all but attacks your thighs, the most sensitive skin being assaulted with hickeys. Marks sucked in, fingertips pressing, from just above your knee, up, up and up until he's almost at your centre before he switches thighs. You're certain this is how you'll die, unsatisfied, running a fever, practically gushing between your thighs while Quinn seems all but disinterested in anything that isn't marking you up like his property.

He's not cruel though, no Quinn could never be cruel to you not when you're being so good for him. It's what has him shifting one of your legs over shoulder while his fingers track their way up your thigh to your centre. The first touch of his fingertips against your slit has you practically jumping, unexpected but not unwelcome. He wastes little time in pressing a finger into you, sliding in oh so easily. Your walls clamp around his finger like his lips clamp around the flesh of your thigh and you can't help the shameless moan that falls from your chest as you squirm.

It's the most delicious form of torture, one finger moving inside you, your walls pressing against it but nothing more, it's not enough. But you know asking for more won't get you anywhere, so all you can do is moan his name, take the little he gives you even as slick practically drips down your thighs.

He doesn't let up when he pulls back to look at his handy work, in fact, Quinn slips a second long finger inside you as he looks at the marks across your thighs. Scattered marks of purple and red covering the inside of your thighs in the best sort of way, the way that he knows no one would be able to mistake that you're taken, you're his and only his. It sends a possessive sort of thrill through him to have you under him like that, covered in his marks and writhing with his fingers plunging into you. It's the sort of thrill that has him so proud of you for being so good for him, so proud he just wants to reward you for all your patience.

"You've been so good for me, baby, such a good girl, yeah?"

You can't even speak, just nodding your head frantically as heavy eyes look up at him, so desperate for something, anything that'll finally make you cum. He can't help the pride he feels because he knows he's ruined you for anyone else. No one could treat you this good, no one could get you off like this, no one could make you such a good girl for them but him. You're his no matter what.

"Gonna reward you, baby, give you what you need."

There's no preamble, no build up or hesitation before he's settling back between your thighs, throwing both legs over shoulders and sucking your clit into his mouth, your back arching off the bed at the sudden sensation.

Quinn's fingers don't let up, thrusting in and out of you, searching for that spongy spot just at the back of your walls that has you whining. Lips latched onto your clit like it's a popsicle for him to suck on. He's building you up to that high you've been waiting on all night, your walls gripping him so tightly it's almost a chore to move his fingers.

You whine in frustration when his fingers leave you, lips popping off your clit, and you're scared he's going to leave you like that, that you haven't been good enough.

"Don't worry, baby, I've got you, promise, just want a taste of you..." He follows through on his promise, your frustration giving way to pleasure as his mouth finds your slit, his fingers swapping to your clit.

His tongue slides into you, moaning against you at your taste, as your legs clamp around his head like a vice and Quinn's pretty certain he'd die happy like that. That he'd be happy to go so long as it was suffocated in your cunt with your thighs crushing his skull. He pulls you as close to his mouth as he can, fingers pressing more firmly in circles around your clit until you're feeling too much, over sensitive and trying to pull away but he doesn't let you go, not done. Not had his fill, not happy until he hears your gasps and moans stop, breathing halted as you finally cum for him, slick flooding his mouth like some sort of divine nectar of the gods.

He keeps going even after you've cum, not content with just one orgasm from you, a couple of fingers sliding in besides his tongue and crooking against that spongy spot inside you. You're sensitive, overly so and it's not long before the crooking of those fingers combined with the slide of his tongue against your clit has you orgasming for the second time.

This time when your hands push at his shoulders he withdraws, coming up for air, slick around his mouth and chin, fingers leaving you as you wince.

"Taste so fucking good, baby..."

"Quinn..." He crawls up your body until he's leaning over you, lips pressing to your cheek messily even as he leaves your own cum behind in a glistening trail.

"Been such a good girl for me, angel, so good. You okay?" His nose nuzzles behind your ear and it's gentle, sweet. He's rock hard, but he doesn't care, just cares about you, how you're doing, if you want more or if you want cuddles. Either is good for him.

"Mmm, need you in me, please?"

"Yeah? You sure you can take it?" He's not even being cocky, just concerned that you might be too sensitive, that it might be too much after 2 orgasms.

"Can take it, promise."

"You tell me if you want to stop, yeah, baby?" You nod, but that's not good enough for him.

"Use your words, baby."

"Promise, Quinny"

"Good girl," He slips in with such ease you're gasping at the sudden intrusion, legs clamping over his hips to draw him closer until the head of his cock is up against that spot that has your jaw dropping open, moan drawn from the back of your throat, head dropping back.

He sets a hard pace because he's so ready to cum, been holding back for so long that he needs you to cum one more time so he can finally get his own release. Quinn's hips smack into yours, the sound of slick, of skin hitting skin filling the air around the two of you. Your hands are around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin to leave half-moon circles, while one of his holds your throat, pressing the sides just enough for that coil in your belly to wind tighter.

His free hand slips between the two of you, two fingers sliding over your clit, circling, earning a gasp from you as your walls squeeze his cock so tight he has to stop, take a moment, before continuing.

It's times like this, when you're gripping him raw that he's thankful for the pill, for the fact that that moment you cum around him, your walls so tight that he's following after, that he can spill inside you without thinking.

[beabatoru]

10 things I hate about you pt. 2 ｡𖦹°‧ hockey player! gojo x reader

pt. 2/2

pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ college au - hockey player! gojo x reader

summary : after the events of the hockey game where you found out you were the centerpiece of a bet between the boy you grew to like and his hockey teammates, you now also have to struggle with family problems miles away with your father on the verge of passing. piles of hospital bills are stacking up and you have no idea how to pay them off and on top of that, gojo is still begging for your forgiveness.

warning / tags ⟢ fluff, angst, smut, college au, this fic is based on the film '10 things I hate about you', partial angst with readers father regarding sickness, reader is low income. gojo is very pathetic.

w.c : 1.8k

a / n . hello everyone ! I hope you all enjoyed the first part of this fic. sorry it took me a while to put the second part out I just wanted to make sure it lived up to your guy's expectations. I wanted to take this time to announce that I have opened an ao3. im still learning how to use it so if anyone has any tips please reach out !

his hugs were warm.

thats the first thing you noticed when he embraced you, watching as your tears stained his shirt but he didn't care. he was quiet allowing your sobs to fill the room. something told him that he didn't even have the right to comfort you like this, but he did it regardless.

"I never found a time to bring it up to you.." you said between broken sobs. he didn't ask why, just letting his cheek rest on top of your head inhaling the sweet scent from your shampoo. "i'm here now. i'm not going anywhere." part of you wanted to believe him. part of you did believe him. but the other part was reminding you of what he did.

you pulled back to look at him, seeing how he too was on the verge of tears and the way his long white lashes were damp. "...you lied to me." you whispered reminding yourself. "you dont get to say that you're here for me. not after you played around with my feelings." your voice broke out of its previous soft whisper making gojo's eyes widen a bit, still holding onto you. "you said I wasn't something to play around with but it turns out this was just a bet. that I was just a bet."

"it started off as that." he interrupted. "but god, it stopped the second I talked to you." you shook your head, not wanting to believe anything that came out of his mouth anymore. "you told me-" it was impossible to say anything else with the way your voice was trembling. "you told me I wasn't something to play with.." you repeated. "baby listen to me.." he begged but you refused.

"I don't think me ignoring your texts and calls were enough so I'll say it now, I don't want you around satoru. I don't want you in my life anymore."

"can you just let me explain everything?" he sighed, moving his hands to hold your shoulders lightly enough that if you wanted to leave, you could. he would never force something on you. he couldn't bring himself to ever hurt you again.

satoru’s breath caught in his throat. “i meant every word, even when i shouldn’t have,” he said. “the bet was real. i won’t lie to you about that, but what happened after? that was real, too. i swear it.”

"do you even know what a promise is anymore?" you reached to wipe your cheeks but he beat you to it. his thumbs softly wiped them away the second they left the eyes he fell deeply in love with.

"im not the girl who will forgive you just because you suddenly realize you care." you continued.

"ive always cared." he looked down at the letters in your hands, reaching out to grab one bringing it up to his face to read it. it was the one from the hospital. "you're not.. sick are you love?" he asked, afraid that you were the one dealing with a bunch of health problems. you shook your head. "its my dad.. he has cancer and... and his bills are expensive and he's in the hospital and I dont know what to do."

the bills were expensive.

there was multiple zeros right after that two. ".. you dont have the money." you shook your head, placing it back on his chest feeling how his hand rubbed your back.

the mail room meetup was yesterday. you've been stuck in your dorm looking through american airlines, seeing which flight was the cheapest to fly back home to possibly see your father for the last time. no, you shouldn't be thinking like this.

he was going to be okay. you'll go back, pay what you can, hell you'll drop out of university just to pick up as many jobs as you can. and then you'll make your father and brothers the blueberry pancakes they love so much and join in on the hockey games they play on the tv.

satoru has been quiet. he hasn't reached out and you figured he gave up in wanting to explain himself to you. maybe he gave up because he really didn't care as he said he did.

your laptop screen blurred for a moment as your eyes welled with tears again, but you blinked them away immediately, determined not to fall apart at least not until you booked the flight.

$387. one way. non-refundable. leaves tomorrow. at 11 am.

you couldn’t afford this flight. but you couldn’t afford to stay either.

you watched the cursor hover over the 'pay now' button before it pressed down on it. 'thank you for your purchase ! a confirmation email has been sent to you along with your ticket. thank you for choosing american airlines and have a safe flight.'

"you're leaving tomorrow?" miwa's small voice spoke out behind you. she's been the only thing keeping you from having a full breakdown with her soft words and how understanding she was. you felt guilty for leaving her.

"..yeah just for a bit. until things get sorted out. I'll hopefully be back before next week."

she nodded. "I'll help you pack then."

"no its fine-"

"im packing." she repeated.

you gave her a small smile before turning to look back at your computer staring at the same message before a new one popped up.

"thank you for your payment of $25,000 at kaiser permanente hospital." your eyes widened. 'no way, did they take out money from my account? I dont even have $25k?!' you thought before reaching for your phone, opening up the Bank of America app to look at your account. nothing. just the amount you spent for the plane ticket. $387.

it showed nothing about a hospital or 25 thousand.

was it a scam? no, that was the hospital your father was staying in. and it was dressed to your name and the sender address was real. you looked through papers and letters trying to find the bill you grabbed out of your mailbox yesterday. it wasn't here.

"is everything okay?" miwa asked walking over to the desk.

"the hospital bill.. its not here. the one I got yesterday of the amount I owe for my fathers stay at the icu.." it definitely wasn't with you. thats when it hit you. satoru grabbed it from your hands and he never returned it.

your fingers were already moving, looking through your contacts before finding "my sugar daddy"

it rang.

once.

and he picked up.

"hey.." his voice was soft. your lips parted aware that you were crying again. "toru.."

"mhm?"

"what did you do?"

there was a pause. you could practically hear him turning away from wherever he was, like he needed to find a quiet place just to breathe. "paid for you. forgot to ask you to send over the rest of the bills to pay them off."

"no.. no you already paid so much.. why, why would you do that satoru.."

"cuz I love you? because I want you back in my life and I want to meet your father and personally thank him for making such a beautiful daughter like you."

"...we've known each other for how long? a month yeah? a month is all I need to know that you're it for me. is it wrong for me to say that im thankful I took on that bet?" he chuckled. "to me you weren't a bet baby. everything about you felt raw. you kept rejecting me and god, that made me want you even more."

you didn't speak, allowing him to finish letting out his emotions. "and I hated myself for liking you, for falling for you like a fucking idiot. because it meant it wasn't a bet anymore, it was love. and I hated how I took that bet. I hated your stupid hair, and the way you made me have butterflies. I hated the music you listened to, your dorky smile. I hate the way your voice softens when you talk about the shit you like. I hate that I dont know every detail about you down to you favorite childhood movie. but.. I hate how I don't hate you at all. and I hate how I dont regret doing the bet at all, because otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

you smiled at his confession. "you can't just fix this by paying for my fathers medical bills.."

"I know." he whispered.

"..and you lied to me." you continued, but at this point you were just playing with him.

"I did. but im not lying now. I stopped lying weeks ago."

"why?"

"because I fell in love with this really awesome girl. a girl I want by my side at all times. and a girl I really want to see right now. please, come over?..."

"yeah.. yeah ill be over."

"okay.. thank you."

you let out a shaky breath, a tentative hope flickering inside you. maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

miwa grinned as she saw you putting on your shoes to head out to his dorm.

"have fun!" she called out.

you reached the airport just in time with your luggage on one hand and satoru's warm hand on the other. "y'know this is my first time flying in like three years?" he whispered over to you.

"seriously? are you scared?" you teased.

he immediately shook his head. "not at all." but the way he was gripping your hand said otherwise. "glad you let me come with you.."

"well I think my family would like to meet the boy ive talked about and the one who took care of my fathers hospital bills."

"youve talked about me?"

"yeah when you lied to me."

"they're going to hate me."

you let out a breathy laugh, the sound reached his ears and it made him smile like a dork that has fallen for you all over again. you didn't let go of his hand once, not even when you were seated on the plane.

you didn't let go now, and maybe not for a while.

bonus

"so, you're the guy that broke my sisters heart." yuji stared down gojo at the dinner table. the white haired boy looked up with a mouthful of your blueberry pancakes. "I fixed it." he gulped down the food. "this is delicious love." he groaned reaching to grab the last pancake from the plate set in the middle of the table before it got snatched by yuji who stuffed it in his mouth while maintaining eye contact with gojo.

"you're right they hate me.." he whispered to you.

you shot yuji a look in which he only stuck his tongue out at you. "they'll grow to love you."

matt climbed over your lap to hand gojo half of his eaten pancake. "I think they already do" you whispered to him. he smiled, accepting the pancake from the little boys hand before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

ending a / n . i completely raw dogged this in one sitting after seeing that 'part 2 of 10 things I hate about you' was winning. anyways i hope you all are satisfied with the ending ! I will continue to write little drabbles for 10tihay! gojo and reader, so if you have any ideas for that lmk ! ty for reading !

🏷️ @bakugouswaif @charlotterosea13 @levermilion @blackhawkfanatic @admmsatoru @einawnimie @k0z3me @cosmic-101

[sunarinio]

down the aisle

rintarou suna x reader

grocery run turned proposal

you pushed the trolley in front of you while suna followed behind, humming to himself as he looked around the aisle. you knew he was about to get distracted so you sped up, the trolley zooming past shelves of chips, biscuits and protein bars.

“hey, slow down,” suna complained as he jogged to catch up with you.

“no, thanks,” you snapped.

he sighed, “you’re still mad about that?”

you stopped in your tracks and jabbed an accusing finger to his chest. “maybe if your annoying ass didn’t get distracted, we wouldn’t have had to make two supermarket trips.”

you were right. this was your second trip to the supermarket in three hours. the two of you first came in at 10 AM sharp for your weekly groceries, as was the sunday ritual. suna, however, ended up getting distracted every ten minutes by the new collaboration of kinder joy with his favourite series. and that’s how you ended up with twenty kinder joys in your cart.

“i think we should get a couple more,” he kept repeating every now and then, concerned about his chances of getting the character he wanted. what a gambler, you thought, but didn’t mind his eccentricities until-

“rin, you idiot!”

he was immediately by your side. you were back home, putting away groceries when you noticed something missing.

“you got neither the handwash nor the room freshener i asked you to!” you scowled at him, “it was right next to your kinder joy aisle!”

“oops~” was all he said.

so here you were, on your second trip to the supermarket. you purposely had not let him handle the trolley.

“i told you we could just get the handwash at a local store. you-”

“no. it is cheaper here in bulk.” you jabbed your finger into his chest again as if to prove your point.

“fine, fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, “i won’t get distracted this time. promise.”

he walked beside you obediently, calling out names of household items and asking whether you needed anything more than what you came here for.

“what’s could be in this anyway? i haven’t opened it yet,” he pulled out a kinder joy which he had pocketed just before leaving the apartment again. a little something to soothe your wrath.

“get that thing out of my face,” you grumbled immediately.

“not even the chocolate?”

“you’ve ruined these for me, rin”

“you’re being dramatic”

he opened the package and peeled off the cover for the toy inside. you couldn’t help but peer in curiously.

“a ring…?” suna tilted his head to the side. then something clicked, “oh it’s the one he uses to save his village…meh, not that good of a find”

“it’s pretty though...” you comment, looking down at the ring before meeting his gaze.

suna stares at you. then he looks around. no one is in the aisle. he smirks.

“what-”

suna gets down on one knee. he takes your hand in his while you put a hand over your mouth to not burst out laughing.

“my dear y/n. i sincerely apologize for what happened today and i will put in my best efforts for the upcoming grocery runs. they bring immense joy to me and i hope you wish to continue these with me- forever,” he looks up at you expectantly.

“y-yes,” you manage to say between giggles. you’re blushing, embarrassed of being caught in the ridiculous situation, “i forgive you”

he inserts the ring onto your finger with a smile before standing up and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“who’s gonna help you carry the bags anyway, if you stop bringing me to grocery runs?” he chuckles, leading you down the aisle.

“i can carry them myself,” you huff, fiddling with the ring. the weight of it felt good, even if it was plastic.

“nah, i’ll carry all the bags, you just focus on carrying the ring,” suna smiled, ruffling your hair with the hand that was not pushing the trolley.

ah yes, the trolley duty had been smoothly shifted to him.

[ce1estiall]

lucid dream

summary paige x reader you do the tiktok trend, calling paige to tell her good night. masterlist

warnings fluff

celestial notes change of plans i’m writing chapter 1 tmr 😓 also i wrote this fic in 30 minutes sorry if its ass

“a dream that would stayed and about to vanish, a night seems like about to scatter

the more you try to escape, the clearer you are

no, i can't stop love.” lucid dream - aespa

silence filled the dorm as you sat down on the couch, all cozy in your pj’s as a blanket was on your lap. it was late into the evening, stars glistening in the dark blue sky. you propped your ipad up against a mug and started hitting record on tiktok.

your hair was in a messy bun, bags deep under your eyes. the countdown started for recording. 3. 2. 1.

giggles exited your mouth as you tried to let the first sentence out. “okay guys, i have to be quiet because everyone else is asleep, except for me and paige. but have you guys seen the trend where you call someone to say goodnight?” you whispered, pausing to let a smile enter your face.

“basically i’m gonna call paige goodnight even though her room is down the hall to the family room.” you couldn’t resist, and kept laughing silently. you let the video on the 10 minute mode, so you wouldn’t have to pause and record every second.

you pulled up her contact, blocking her number with your hand from the video. ‘paige💗’ with her smiling was shown to the screen. you kept laughing, imagining what her reaction would be like. “okay, lets call her.”

you pressed “call” instantly, putting it on speaker afterwards so the video can pick up the noise. the phone rang twice until she answered the phone. “baby what’s up?” she spoke into the phone.

you tried not to laugh, “hi p. what are you doing?” you backed away from the phone as a grin grew across your face. her tone was confused, “nothing, why are you calling me? i’m literally in my room across the hallway.”

you attempted to act serious, but failed. “i’m just calling you to say good night.” paige’s laughter filled up the speaker. you went on mute and covered your mouth, attempting to not laugh also.

“well, good night to you too baby, but you could’ve just came to my room.” her laughter lingered. you loved the way she laughed, as it could make others smile. it was like a disease you kept wanting more.

“i love you.” you let out a small chuckle, hopefully she would hear.

“i love you too.” paige whispered. she hung up afterwards.

the tiktok was still rolling, and you kept laughing. you grabbed the ipad and walked to her room, seeing her on her bed watching tiktok. a black compression shirt that hugged her figure and grey sweatpants as her natural curls were airdrying.

paige turned to look at you as she was smirking. “you comin’ to say good night for real this time?”

you broke out in a smile, turning the ipad to show her. “say hi paige!” you walked up closer to her as she attempted to hide away from the camera, but surrendered, eventually sending a small wave over to you and the camera. “did you just record my reaction?” the camera was now facing both of you, while giving you those eyes. the eyes that could make you drop anything you did and instantly start kissing her, but you maintained yourself.

“yeah it was a trend!” you started laughing at the way she reacted. “oh my gosh.” her hands found her face as she sighed. she turned to her left side and started scrolling through tiktok on her phone. you ended the video, then jumped onto her bed and sitting up. you watched the tiktok as you were editing it and started laughing. paige turned her head at you, thinking you were crazy.

you posted the tiktok with the caption. “do yall think she passed?”

minutes after, you phone blew up with notifications like crazy. the fans loved it, some of them commenting

@pbucketseveryday: THE WAY PAIGE LOOKS AT HER AFTER THE CALL HELLO??

@urfavwbblover: paige is such a golden retriever gf i cant

@uconnattychamps25: these damn lovebirds

you tapped her shoulder, forcing her to turn around. “they love your reaction babe.”

she rolled her eyes with playful attitude. “watch out, i’ma get you one day.” paige smirked.

you smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek as you layed down, watching the blush grow on her face. “and i won’t be complaining.”

[astralis-ortus]

sunday, sunday, sunday

✱ husband!bc × fem!reader

— now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, fluff, fluff. just tooth rotting fluff. warnings → very minor cussing (just once)(atp cussing is a given lol), kissing, time jump (twice), chan referred to as chris a.n → blame the man for putting the idea in my head like what can i do??? his insta post??? hello??? not to mention his song recommendation while i was writing this??? laufey's like the movies??? what??? he wants me dead atp<////3 ⋆ see masterlist

it’s sunday.

to be fair, it has been sunday since the moment chris’ eyes flew open a few hours ago. it’s sunday when he got ready, it’s sunday when he got his light makeup and hair settled, it is sunday when he finally wore the crisp tailored suit that has been turning his heart into the loudest marching band ensemble he’d ever known.

but to be fair,

it’s not just any sunday.

“bring those shoulders down, hyung. you’re gonna get cramps at this point.”

“oh shut up,” chris groaned, feeling more embarrassed about the fact that he got caught more than the fact that his nerves are firing non-stop at an untraceable rate. “just take the pictures, felix.”

albeit rolling his eyes at chris’ rather feisty comment, it was proven impossible to wipe the cheeky grin off the younger’s clearly ecstatic face. after all, it’s a monumental day in chris’ life—and he’s very honored the older trusted his (and technically hyunjin’s) skills to capture the day’s earlier moments.

“see? that’s already all better,” felix cheerily quipped, snapping several pictures as soon as he caught a glimpse of chris fixing his posture. besides, a little movement here and there does make the picture come out a lot more natural, which was the one thing you repeatedly told him (and hyunjin) as something you wanted to see most in the final cuts.

you.

the mere thought of you was enough to melt the remaining stillness present in chris’ face.

it has been a wild few months; meetings after meetings, fittings after fittings, testing, changes in plans, some other minor revisions, checklist, checklist, checklist. chris was justifiably spent, and so were you. there were arguments (you refused to call them fights, knock on wood), there were a couple of shed tears (out of frustration, of course), there were a few hours of leaving each other on read (justifiably so, considering both of you are quite the stubborn pair), but there were also a lot of make-up dates, plenty of exchanged giggles of excitement, and bountiful of prayers for the days to come.

those days have been wild, and this sunday will begin to prove that every second of it was worthwhile.

“chris hyung!”

woken up from his trance, the glint on chris’ eyes finally returned as he found hyunjin’s head peeking from inside the room—the one he’d been waiting on for the past 10 minutes while his head was busy creating bits and pieces for his life montage.

“ready to see your bride?” asked the younger, grin replicating the ones felix is sporting behind his lenses.

am i ready?

palms running over the fabric of his carefully crafted suit, ones you finally chose after debating over a dozen others you deem was ‘not grand enough for someone about to spend the rest of my life with’, chris took one final breath.

“ready.”

it’s sunday.

it’s been exactly a week since your wedding day, and you finally got your hand on the stack of developed pictures courtesy to your now-husband’s talented teammates. originally, you wanted to take part in picking the films, but the duo was pretty convincing when they said waiting for their pick would make a good little surprise to enjoy on your honeymoon trip.

“come on,” chris beckoned, curls framing his beautiful face while his hand motioned to the empty spot next to him on the bed; one you just left after a call from the front desk informing you about the tiny package under your husband’s name. “let’s see how hyunjin did at taking your pictures.”

“and felix at yours,” you added with a grin, swiftly claiming your throne while your fingers were busy ripping open the brown envelope. “i want to see my husband as much as you wanted to see your wife, you know. not to mention, that suit was absolutely perfect on you.”

“not again,” his defeated giggles has been chris’ way to answer to your every compliment on his look since the day of your wedding. “you need to stop that before my head blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, my love.”

“well,” you shrugged, finally getting your hand on the stack of pictures before then snuggling right into the warmth of chris’ arms, “have you ever thought about trying not to be so hot all the da-“

and of course, stealing kisses has also been his alternative should you continue to run your mouth and try to turn him into a blushing mess.

as if that’s not exactly the reason why you kept up with the praises.

“can we start looking at the pictures,” he muttered over your lips, evidently smiling as his lips brushed against yours, “or do i still need to shut you up?”

you hummed, letting the warmth of his skin hover over your face before your lips captured his in a quick peck, “pictures. need to see my cool husband.”

the way his laugh reverberates against his chest never fails to warm you up.

“okay, picture it is then.”

it’s sunday.

you didn’t expect moving to be this hard—sure, you’ve been living together with chris even before you two got married, but had you really been accumulating that many stuffs?

“fuck—i think it’s not the right screw,” your husband’s mutters forces your line of sight to gravitate towards his hunched figure, still hovering over the half-built shelf on the floor of your living room.

“you reckon it should still stick out this much?” he questioned, beckoning you to look at the silver piece, sticking out like a sore thumb. “no, right?”

“think not,” you huffed, crouching next to chris to look at the scattered pieces around him, “was this all? did they send the wrong one?”

chris groaned in defeat, deciding to lean onto your warmth instead of voicing his answer. maybe building your own furniture was not exactly a good idea to spend your first weekend home after your honeymoon trip.

treading your fingers through his soft curls, you then came up with a suggestion, “i’ll get you a pineapple juice then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

and it sure perked him right up.

looking at you with sparkles lighting up in his eyes, it felt right—it felt like even through the worst sundays, chris would still be the there to welcome you home.

“thank you,” he grinned—the boyish kind. the one that made you feel like a swarm of butterflies, one that gets you blushing like a schoolgirl in front of her first ever crush. his lips then found its home on the bare of your thigh, printing a quick kiss on the surface, “you’re the best.”

“mm, i know,” you answered with a giggle, feeling the warmth breaking through your skin before returning the kiss on his plump lips while feigning ignorance to the way your heartbeat grew louder by the second.

“you’re still the bestest of the best, though. can’t beat you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[justliketoreadsowhat]

All-Star Weekend ✯

✯ 𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 ✯

_______________________________

���𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎𝟎° 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬? 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐲“ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

"The jacket goes with my outfit!" you protested tugging on your jean jacket. "We're gonna be inside anyways, the air will be blasting in there"

Arenas were always overly cold, one of the many things you've learned while being with Paige for the past two years. Today was one of her first All-Star appearances of her career. You made it your #1 priority to be there, even if that meant melting away from the scorching heat.

"Whatever you say, the outfit is beautiful though don't get me wrong" she smiled pulling down your cream-colored dress.

"It's meant to be short Paige! you're gonna stretch it out" moving away from her grip, re-adjusting yourself for another countless time in the mirror.

"I can stretch it it out some more if you want me to" her smug smirk formed in the corners of her lips, eyeing your figure"

"Don't start something you can't finish, we're gonna be late anyways let's go" pushing her taller frame out the doorway, your palms pressed against her bare skin, exposed by her bright green mesh crop top.

"Are you doubting me right now?" she questioned squinting her eyes "I was ready 20 minutes ago anyways, you're the one who decided to dress like the Met-Gala". Paige always had to make sure she got the last word and hated being proven wrong, her competitiveness shined throughout every conversation.

Luckily, she met her match the moment she laid eyes on you.

"Well then, I guess I'll stay here and go out by myself in my "Met-Gala" outfit" Crossing your arms, patiently waiting for her to give in.

"Alright come onnn" grabbing both your hands kissing them gently, ushering you out the door.

__________________________

The two of you arrive promptly 10 minutes early surprisingly. Cars were lined up past the building, as some people resorted to parking in the grass. The music blasting from the inside could be heard from miles away. The atmosphere was so lively, it was such a rush of excitement.

"You nervous?" Paige questioned. Being so indulged in the scenery, you zoned out, silencing any form of words being said to you.

Snapping out of it you turned to your girlfriend who had a concerned look on her face. "Yeah I'm good, it's beautiful out here"

She nodded in agreement, placing her arm around your shoulders pulling you closer. "If anything I should be asking you that question"

"Nah, real ones never get nervous" denying her nerves rising with each second. Patting her biceps, flexing her muscles.

"You've got to stop doing that' shaking your head in disapproval. "Let's go see what's going on inside" nudging her side.

Hoping out the car taking her soft hands into yours, you felt the warm heat hit your skin painfully slow. You wouldn't dare fix your lips to say you were hot though.

Stepping foot into the arena, the view filled with children of all ages dribbling basketballs that were about 3x their size. Applause and frequent screams erupted throughout the air as Paige walked in front of you.

You smiled to yourself seeing the outgoing love and support she received no matter where she went. It was all well deserved.

"They're all so cute" she gushed over the children running rampt across the court. Paige always loved kids and they loved her equally as much. "I know, we gotta get some good pictures with them! I'm gonna find a seat to get a good shot"

You had been urgent to put your digital camera to use and now was the perfect time. Soon you would have your own scrapbook filled with photos to embellish your core memories with the love of your life.

------------------------------

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝟗:𝟒𝟕𝐩𝐦

“𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞!!“ 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫“

You sighed looking up from the kindle, eager to finish the last chapter of your novel. You had already showered, did your skin care, had your sweet treat before bed and filled your Stanley with ice cold water for the night.

Paige on the other hand, insisted on going out with a couple of her friends who you absolutely adored, but once you were settled in bed, there was no going back out.

"You're right I'm not gonna say no, I'm going to nicely decline your offer" you stated, focusing your eyes back on your book.

"You just don't want to see me win" she groaned walking into the bedroom. Her footsteps heavier than usual causing you to pause your reading once more.

Looking up you met with Paige who had completely changed her outfit for earlier. Her black crop top was accompanied by her silver chain that read "pb5" " Her white collared button-up had slight paint splatter spread across it. Black distressed jorts flattered her tall frame perfectly, crips white air forces on her feet, per usual.

"You like the fit huh?" she beamed doing a 360 spin for your viewing

You couldn't hide your laugh as your admired her physic. She always looked utterly perfect. "You look so beautiful P, as always, but I'm still not making a tik tok with you"

She groaned once more, jumping on the bed rolling her into entire body onto yours, nearly suffocating you. "At least go out with me, pleaseee" she pleaded, burying her face into your neck.

Although Paige was always the life of the party, she adored you being there with her, even if it was from a distance. You were the puzzle piece keeping her together.

"Okay fine" you mumbled kissing her head softly "but I need more than 10 minutes to get ready so don't rush me this time"

Lifting her head she gave you a confused look "Why can't you wear what you have on?"

"My pajamas?!"

"it's dark in there, nobody is gonna see fr"

Snatching the pillow next to you, smacking her head against it. “Just get up so I can get ready Bueckers"

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

[takimakiiiii]

what if? (i told you i loved you)

pairing - ollie bearman x fem!reader

themes - PURE FLUFFFFFFF

summary - ollie tells you he loves you but not before getting awful advice from kimi

word count: around 300?

a/n: just something small i wrote last night after listening to how would you feel by ed sheeran - it’s lowkey bad because my writing has been pretty sucky lately and im trying to write so many things at once (bad idea yall do NOT do what i am doing ✋😭) anyways enjoy!

<———————————————————————>

“What could possibly go wrong?” was quite possibly the worst this to say to Ollie in this moment as he frantically paced his living room. His hands were buried in his hair and his face scrunched up in a way which called for desperate measures. Kimi eyed his friend partly amused, partly concerned, as he walked back and forth across the room like a video on loop. 

“What if you just wait?” offered Kimi, Ollie paused his pacing and stared at him as he faltered under his glare, laughing nervously. Kimi cleared his throat before he spoke, “What I meant to say was, maybe wait a while, you don’t want to scare the poor girl away.” he put delicately. 

“But. . . I don’t want to wait. I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect right? It’s just saying. . . I love you.” 

The words heavy yet light sat on his tongue. Ollie looked to Kimi for help who’s hands shot up defensively. He pointed at him and clicked his fingers, a widespread grin on his face. 

“Don’t look at me, Eli was the one who said it first.” he pointed out, watching as his friend finally stopped pacing. Ollie sat across from him, burying his head in his hands. Personally, Kimi thought he was overreacting big time. Not that he could speak from much experience though.

“How do I say it, do I say it casually like an in-the-moment thing? Or maybe-“

“Do you want to practice?” Kimi asked teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Ollie glared and threw a pillow at his face in reply, Kimi caught it with a huff.

“Look, just say it because you mean it. It doesn’t have to be fancy, if you tell someone you love them it’s because you want them to know.” A moment of silence passed between them and Ollie raised his eyebrows. Far too heartfelt and touchey for them. Kimi cringed at his own words and offered an unhelpful sympathetic glance to Ollie who glared at him in reply. 

“You should’ve called Arthur instead, he’s 10 times better at this.” Kimi grumbled, sick of playing wingman for his friend. 

“For all we know he’s probably partying on a yacht somewhere in the middle of the ocean.” Ollie grumbled in annoyance.

“The lucky bastard.” Kimi scowled, throwing the pillow back. Ollie caught it and let out a groan, leaning as back as he could into the armchair. He buried his face in the pillow. 

“Maybe I’ll just wing it.” he spoke, words muffled. 

“Famous last words.” Kimi acknowledged with a chuckle sending Ollie spiralling.

*

You laid back pressed Ollie’s chest, one hand shielding your eyes from the rays of the sunset that glared before you. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you glanced up at him. He’d been sitting nervously since you’d arrived at the park. You’d noticed the way he ran his hand through his hair every few seconds, he way he kept glancing over at you, even the sweat that had began to form on his forehead. You smiled fondly, watching as his jaw tensed under your stare. 

“Everything okay, Bearman?” you asked curiously, breaking the silence. The chatter in the park began to die out as the sun set behind the skyline. Ollie eyes flickered over to you, startled by your voice. He swallowed, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he cleared his throat, looking down at you. His eyes skipped over you before he looking back up at the sunset.

“Maybe because you skipped the sim today to come pick me up from work?” you suggested, noticing the way his eyes reflected the sunset as warm pools of honey. Subconsciously your mouth ticked up in a smile, heart skipping a beat in your chest. 

“Hey, I do that all the time.” Ollie protested, a light humour to his voice. You rolled your eyes playfully, “Sure you do, handsome.” Silence passed between the two of you as you watched the sunset, its colours dancing across the sky above you. You let out a deep sigh, allowing your eyes to close.

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes opened slowly and you glanced back at Ollie. You sat up and turned to face him, oblivious to the way he looked at you so fondly. 

Your heart fluttered under his gaze.

“Yeah?” you beckoned, awaiting his question. You noticed the way his fists clenched and jaw tensed as he sat up, looking for his words. 

“I know we haven’t been dating for long but. . . I really uhhh,” Ollie tripped over his words before groaning. You watched him take a deep breath in.

“I love you.” 

A warm feeling exploded through your chest and your heart felt like it was beating a thousand times faster than before. It felt like your brain had short circuited. Much to Ollie’s surprise, you burst out in laughter. He watched horrified as you rolled onto your back, clutching your stomach with laughter. 

Was this a normal reaction to telling someone you love them? Ollie wondered before he realised this was exactly why he did. He loved everything about you. He loved the way you smiled all the time and it made him feel like he was flying up in the clouds. He loved the way you went out of your way to make everyone feel special, especially him. He loved you, and it couldn’t have been truer in that moment. 

Ollie lay beside you on the grass and looked over at you, a gigantic smile on your face. You let out a chuckle, “So that’s why you’ve been sweating so much? I thought it was because of the walk here, no offence.” 

“Woah, offence taken.” He scrunched up his face, sending you both into fits of giggles. After the laughter died out you turned on your side to face him. You half expected him to be anxious since you were yet to say it back, but you were taken by surprise when you saw him relaxed and smiling back at you. 

Your eyes glazed over him, his rosy cheeks, honey eyes and that smile that made your head grow dizzy. 

That one Taylor Swift lyric blasted at the back of your mind - “In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.” 

“Creepy much?” you teased, poking him in the shoulder, rolling your eyes playfully. Your stomach felt like you were on a roller coaster, heart beating so loud it felt like it was going to shoot out of your chest. 

“I’m hurt.” he placed his hand on his heart dramatically. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” you spoke poshly, attempting your best at mimicking Ollie’s English accent. He poked you back in the ribs playfully, sending you into laughter until your stomach ached. 

Out of breath, you turned to him, eyes catching his and everything felt right. 

“I love you too.” you whispered, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek before jumping to your feet. Ollie sat up and watched as you held your hand out to him, eyes glinting mischievously. He slowly took your hand and stood up cautiously, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“What?” you asked, doing an awful job at holding back a laugh at his reaction. He studied your face for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

“What?” Ollie countered, the corners of his mouth pulled in a grin. 

“Last one to the car has to clean the dishes tonight!” you yelled as you shot off in the direction of the car. Ollie ran after you, the park filled with both your laughter as the sun disappeared behind the buildings. 

a/n: it’s super short but i hope you enjoyed!

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 10 - Do No Harm

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Medical inaccuracies, medical procedures, mentions of torture, PTSD, discription/ mentions of injuries, angst, mental health, military inaccuracies, It'S A mEdiCal DrAMa.

Previous parts - masterlist- next

AO3

You hate base psychologists, they always get the nicest rooms. It’s not just that though, it’s the fact they can put pen to paper and sign your discharge like it’s nothing. It’s only been 15 minutes and you already want to leave. He’s nice-the doctor-when you’ve seen him in the medbay he’s always got a smile on his face.

Even now he seems relaxed as he sits across from you, leaning back in his chair one leg over the other with his papers resting on his knee. Probably doing it to make him seem more open or something. You never really paid much attention to the tiny little bit of mental health training you’re required to do. 

“Do you feel guilty about the people you couldn’t save while you were captive?” You blink at him. For a second you think you misheard him. Your leg stops bouncing, you didn’t even realise you were doing that. He’s still sitting there looking at you, waiting for an answer. 

“I delivered a baby.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

“Yes, you said last time.” He smiles.

“We’re not trained to deliver babies. So many things could have gone wrong. I spent the next few hours-after the baby was born-going through every scenario in my head. I guess it kept me busy for a while.” You say not quite knowing where you were going with this. He shuffles in his chair, he’s not interrupting you. You look down at your hands, you look down at the still empty nail beds. It’ll be a while before they grow back, if they grow back at all. 

You think back to the people you helped. There was the woman with the baby, the man with the fasciotomy then the other man. The one you couldn’t save, the crush injury and the missing leg. He bled out too quickly, he never stood a chance, you shouldn’t have wasted an adrenaline on him. 

“It makes me mad.” You say, you feel anger all of a sudden. The thought of what they did to you, to other people. If they had taken him to allied forces or a hospital instead of some terrorists in the middle of nowhere maybe he would have lived. 

“What makes you mad?” He asks. That's a broad fucking question. You look up at him. You almost want to snap something stupid at him. Instead you hold your tongue and look back down at your hands. 

“There were 3 patients. I only lost one and he was pretty much DOA.” You say, your leg starts to bounce again. You don’t know what he wants, maybe he wants to see if you still have an ounce of empathy left in you. Maybe you don't, maybe you’ll be this coldhearted forever. 

“What about-” You look up at him as he pauses shuffling through the papers on his knee. “-John MacTavish? He’s in your unit right?” You swallow the lump in your throat. Fuck him. You knew this whole thing was a waste of time.  

“What about him?” 

“How did it feel when you saw him?” He asks. You’re not sure what to say, you open your mouth but nothing comes out. You wanted to kill him. When you saw him you wanted to kill him yourself. You look down at your missing finger nails. 

“I did what I could so he wouldn’t get hurt. They shot him anyway.” You let out a shaky breath. “I feel guilty. If rescue didn’t come when it did he would have died. That would have been my fault.” 

“I don’t think you need to feel guilty. What happened was out of your control.” You look up at him as he shifts in the chair, putting his knee down and leaning forward. “You feel guilty because you love him. You let yourself get hurt instead of him. That was a very difficult situation to be in, there’s no reason to feel guilty about that, and it definitely wasn’t your fault.” 

You scoff and raise an eyebrow. He sighs, pressing his lips together and sitting back in the chair. He obviously didn’t get the reaction he wanted. Maybe he wants to see you sad, let out some emotion other than whatever it is you’re feeling now. Annoyance? Worry? You just want to get this over and done with.

“Let’s talk about what happened the other day in the medbay.” He says. Finally, this is what you came here for. 

…

Simon is waiting for you outside the room when you leave. 

“Following me?” You ask, closing the door behind you and turning to walk down the hall. 

“Captain's orders.” He says, you tut folding the paper up in your hand. 

“What's that?” He asks.

“Discharge papers.” You say, he stops dead in the hall, you turn to look at him. Even with the mask you can see the stiffness in his body, the clenching of his fists and the wide eyes. You can’t help laughing and continuing to walk. 

“Not funny.” He says catching back up to you. You walk in silence for a few minutes heading towards John’s office. 

“What did they say?” He asks after a few more moments of silence. You don’t really want to talk about it but you hand him the letter. 

“PTSD?” He asks. 

“Suspected, they need to do more assessments. But you know, it tends to be what happens when you get kidnapped and tortured.” You say stopping outside John’s door. Simon hands you back the letter and there’s a worried look in his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” You say knocking on the door. He goes to protest but before he can John calls you in. You take the paper out of his hand and walk in. Simon follows behind you, John smiles as you pass him the piece of paper. 

“How was it?” He asks.

“You know shrinks, always trying to tell you there's something wrong with you.” John raises an eyebrow looking up from the paper. “It was fine.” 

“Kyle told me you got on the medical team assisting with the hostage swap.” John says. You nod. 

“We’re going to be there too. I managed to convince Shepherd to let us do the swap with the marines.” John says, that makes you smile. Although you wouldn’t have expected anything less from them. 

“There’s going to be a briefing tonight, eighteen-hundred.” He says, you nod. You feel Simon come up behind you and put his hand on your back. 

“You sure you’re ready for this?” He asks, you turn and look up at him. 

“I’m ready. I’m not going to let this get the better of me. There has to be some good coming out of this.” You say looking back at John. He smiles and nods. You’re doing this for you, you get to be selfish once. You’re not going to let anything happen to the people you’re getting back. Especially the civilians. 

_____

The desert is hot, the sun is high in the sky and you’re still waiting at the meeting point. You can feel the layer of sweat pooling under your gloves, your hand gripping the medical bag swung over your shoulder. 

“What’s your risk assessment?” Sayyid asks. You clench your jaw looking over at him, his head turns slightly so he can look at you before it’s forced back. He chuckles, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction he’s seaking. You feel Kyle move closer to you, his arm brushes yours. 

“I think they’ll be in a worse state than you. Or that other friend of yours, what was his name again? Soap?” 

“Shut it.” Ghost says jamming the barrel of his weapon into Sayyids back. You know he can’t shoot him but at least it makes Sayyid uncomfortable enough to arch his back. 

“The civilians will be coming out last.” You hear the doctor say in your ear piece. You already made a deal with him, they’re yours. You and Gaz will take them both, you look up at Gaz. He nods at you as you both hear cars pull up. 

It kicks up sand and dust even when they’re at least a hundred metres in front of you. The briefing the evening before felt like it was going on for hours, they’re keeping the civilians until last as insurance. It makes you feel sick, if there’s anyone who’s going to suffer the most it’s going to be the innocent civilians. 

They were on holiday, you didn’t think anyone would want to holiday in a warzone but oh well, each to their own. They showed the video the terrorists had sent a few weeks ago as proof of life. They already looked beaten up and malnourished. They were old too, late 50’s, your biggest concern is shock and dehydration.  

You almost miss the General greeting the terrorists. They look like how you remember, faces covered, AK’s in their arms. Your weapon is swung to your side, suddenly it feels like the heaviest thing in the world. Maybe some of them will recognise you, you hope not, you like to think they were all killed when the compound you were being held at was raided. 

The first few hostages start making their way over, you know these are the soldiers. Some of them look okay, others not too much. They’re bought two at a time, their hands stay bound until they’re handed over to soldiers who lead them over to where the medical staff are. The doctor bought as many people as he could without leaving the base understaffed. 

Still, if anything goes wrong, if someone is more injured you’re ready for it. More hostages come, one limps, another clearly has a significant wound on his arm. Another with a bandaged eye, it’s almost like they’re saving the worst till last. John comes up to stand next to you, you look up at him. 

These will be the last soldiers then they will exchange Sayyid. You hate that he’s getting away with this. You hate that they didn’t get any intel from him. This is the riskiest part too, this is where things could all go wrong. You watch as the general gestures at the soldiers holding Sayyid’s arms and they start to march him forward. 

In the distance you see the door of a car open and two people are pulled out. Unlike the soldiers they’re blindfolded, with their hands tied around their front. You watch them flinch as they’re half dragged to the halfway mark to reach the two soldiers waiting for them. You take one last look at Sayyid, they’re cutting the zipties off him. 

That’s it he’s free. Not for long, you remind yourself. You’re going to hunt them down, as soon as Johnny is back on his feet. John promised you, you’re going to go after all of them. Your eyes linger on him as he hugs someone, another person comes over to pat him on the shoulder. You feel a knot form in your stomach as he turns. 

His eyes meet yours, even from this distance you know it’s you he’s looking at. He waves at you smiling. You grip the bag tighter, it makes you feel sick. You hold your ground though, you’re not going to let him get to you. 

“Let's go.” You say walking over to meet the soldiers with the civilians. As soon as you reach them it’s like you’re in your own world. Nothing else matters now, just the patient, it’s a good distraction. You and Kyle reach over, taking their blindfolds off as the soldiers cut their ties. 

You rub the lady's arm. Katherine, she’s called Katherine, he’s called Richard. They’re both looking around their eyes adjusting to the light. You give them a few seconds to get their bearings listening to the steam of info coming into your ear. 

All hostages exchanged, now it’s time to move. As soon as Katherine’s eyes meet her husband she throws herself into his arms. You look over at Kyle who smiles at you, you want to smile back but you just can't. Katherine starts to sob as John and Simon come up behind you. 

“We can ride with you.” John says, you reach over to rub the woman's back, you really want to move them to the transport so you can check them over. The woman breaks from the hug and looks round as you grip her arm and Kyle takes Richard. 

She turns and hugs you, she throws herself at you so hard the bag drops from your shoulder. “Thank you, thank you so much.” She’s sobbing, you look over at her husband who has tears in his eyes and a nasty gash on his face. 

“It’s okay.” You say, she breaks from the hug and looks behind you. You see the look of worry on her face, you know she’s seen Ghost. 

“Come on, we need to get you checked out.” You say encouraging her to walk towards the trucks. Kyle and John help them into the back of the truck and you stand with Simon taking one last look behind you. 

The cars are gone, leaving a plumb of dust and sand in their wake. At least nothing went wrong, the transfer was good. You throw your bag in the back and Kyle holds his hand out for you and pulls you up into the truck. 

You sit down opposite them as Simon gets in next to you, the woman’s eyes are laser focused on him. 

“Where are we going?” Richard asks as the truck starts to move. 

“There’s a US military base a few kilometres from here.” John says. You pull your weapon over your head and hand it to Simon. 

“We never thought we would be rescued.” Katherine says with a sniffle. You reach out and hold her wrist. You take the opportunity to look at her hands, it makes your heart sink, all her nails are missing. Before you can stop yourself your hand moves down to pick one up, her hands are dirty and shaking in yours. 

“They didn’t believe we were just tourists.” Richard says. You place your other hand on hers and look up at her. 

“You’re safe now. We’re going to get you somewhere safe then you’ll be going home.” You say squeezing her hand. You see her lip quiver and more tears come, Kyle’s hand comes around her and she leans against him. You let her hand go and move over to her husband. 

“Nasty wound. What did they hit you with?” You ask as you open your bag. 

“I don’t remember.” He says. You reach over resting your hand on his head pulling the wound slightly. You watch as he tries to hide the wince. “Might be infected. We can check at the base.” You reach down into your bag bringing out an alcohol wipe and a bandage. 

“Are you all British?” He asks as you clean the wound. 

“SAS.” John says. The man nods and you have to move your hand, you open the bandage as Richard talks with John. Good, it’s a good distraction, it'll keep him calm. You feel the truck pulling off the sandy off-road and hitting the smooth paved street. 

Now you’re on the home stretch, an hour or so more and you’ll be back. You press the bandage on his head and look out the back of the truck. The other trucks are following close behind, you must have been the first to drive out. 

“-My grandad was SAS, back in the war. I served 30 years, navy, not SAS.” He says, that explains how he’s keeping so calm. It’ll hit him later probably, when he’s alone with his wife on the ward. That's when it will all come crashing down. Maybe they should be on suicide watch. 

“Shit-” You hear Kyle say as you turn your head you see the woman fall to the floor. Your heart stops, you Kyle bends down by her head rolling her over onto her back the best he can. You’re already going over, you can hear Richard getting up and John telling him to sit down.

Simon moves over to help him. What the hell happened? You don’t have time to worry as you pull your stethoscope off your vest. You don’t get a chance to listen to her chest though because the moment you’re straddling over her she starts to shake. 

“Shit, get her on her side.” You say to Kyle who nods and helps you turn her. You turn back to look at John and Simon keeping Richard seated. 

“My bag.” You reach out, clicking your fingers Simon hands it to you. You throw it up on the bench next to you and start fishing through it. 

“Does your wife have any allergies?” You ask, turning to look at the now pale faced husband. He shakes his head. So this isn’t allergy related. You know that anyway though, there would have been other signs. It could be head trauma, it could be stress, it could be dehydration. It could be a fucked up mix of everything and you’re still at least an hour from the base.

“Is she okay?” You hear the break in her husband's voice. It’s too soon to say, you need to get to the bottom of what's wrong. 

“I’m not sure.” You turn to look at him quickly, he looks terrified. He’s been through so much and now his wife is here seizing under you. You look back at her and take a breath as you inject the diazepam into her thigh. You’re going to need to set up an IV, get fluids in her and see if that helps. You need to get her hooked up to a monitor too. 

“Does she have any problems with her heart? Is she normally on any medication?” You ask without turning. 

“Yeah. No heart problems, she’s on medication for blood pressure.” Your head snaps up in fear as he says that, even Kyle looks worried as he looks at you. “High or low?” You ask. Not that it really matters. No doubt she hasn’t had access to it for weeks. 

“High.” He replies, another break in his voice. You feel horrible for him, this has to be the best and worst day of his life. You pull your earpiece out putting the stethoscope in your ears as her seizure slows. That's good at least, but she’s not out of the woods yet. 

You listen to the thump off her heart, it’s too fast - she just had a seizure though, it will be. You need to get her hooked up to the EKG to get a better look. You look behind you, wrapping the stethoscope around your neck. 

“In the back, there’s a machine. I need it.” You say pointing at it. John goes over and hands it to you, you stand up and place it on the other bench untangling all the cables. You take the scissors off your vest and hand them to Kyle. 

“Cut her shirt off, and anything she has on underneath.” You say. Kyle nods as you start to pull the stickers off the tabs. 

“What do you think it is?” Kyle asks. 

“Could be a lot of things. Let's not panic until we have to.” You say mostly focused on remembering the EKG placement. It was always the thing you hated the most back in training, as well as the fact there are normally nurses around to do it for you. As soon as Kyle’s done, you’re measuring with your fingers, feeling her collar bone and working your way down. You keep telling yourself it’s going to be okay... It has to be okay.

You’re not going to let her die. She’s not going anywhere on your watch, she’ll have to have fucking code on you multiple times before she gets a chance. When you’re done with the leads you power on the machine hoping you’ve done it right in the back of a shaky truck. You grab one of the blankets and use it to cover her, Kyle helps you, you need her arms on the outside though. 

By the time you’ve got the blood pressure cuff on the EKG is spitting out its readings. You let yourself relax a little, no heart attack. It’s just hypotension which isn’t better- well it’s better then a heart attack. You need to get fluids running through her, that and sodium nitro, that should be enough to keep her stable until you’re back to the base. 

You watch the blood pressure machine spit out one of the highest readings you think you’ve ever seen. 

“What is it?” You hear her husband ask. You turn quickly to see him. 

“She’s okay. I’ll let you know what's going on when I'm finished here.” You need to focus on what you’re doing, turning back to pick up her other hand, at least her veins look good. Kyles the best help you could ever ask for. He’s watched you enough to know what you’re doing at this point. Maybe in another world he would have made a good medic. He seems to have a knack for it, and an excellent bedside manner, better than you at least. 

Even now as you set up an IV, he’s not moved from her head. Making sure if you knock the blanket he puts it right back in place. Making sure the oxygen mask you put on her face stays there. When you stand up to hook the IV bag on the roof of the truck, you don’t bother sitting back down by her. Instead you pull your gloves off and go over to her husband. 

You sit down in front of him and reach out to stroke his knee. You want to be gentle with him but honest at the same time. This could be way worse, you’ve been in this situation before with soldiers bleeding to death in the back of a truck and you’ve run out of resources to help them. 

“Your wife had a hypotensive episode. I guess from the fact she hasn’t had access to her medication over the last few weeks- months.” You let out a sigh squeezing his knee. “She’s stable now, I’ve given her some medication that will lower her blood pressure and when she gets back to the base there are doctors there who can help her.” 

“You’re not a doctor?” He asks suddenly, looking worried.

“No, I’m just a medic.” You say, moving your hand from his knee. 

“What about the seizure?” He asks, you can see his eyes starting to fill up again. 

“I think it was caused by the mix of high blood pressure and severe dehydration she’s suffering from.” You say as you look around the truck reaching down to pull a bottle of water out of a pack. You hand it to him.

“You need to drink too, small sips, take it easy.” You say sitting back on the bench and looking up at John who’s still stood with his hand on Richard’s shoulder, Simon is sitting next to him. You look back over at his wife as you hear him open the bottle, she’s stable for now. 

And she’s going to fucking stay that way or God will have to come down himself to take her. You turn back watching him gulp the water down, you almost want to stop him but instead you reach for another bottle and hand it to him. 

“Slower this time. Or you’ll accidentally drink too much, it could shock your system.” You say as you stand up. He nods, you walk back over to Katherine and go and sit down on the bench by her head, you hand your arm out the back of the truck. Kyle has moved to sit opposite you leaning on the back of the truck. 

You look out at the truck following behind you, it’s identical to the one you’re in, it will be transporting half the soldiers transferred over. They could be in worse condition they could be better, the doctor clearly didn’t seem to think they were going to be too bad since he only took 2 medics one for each truck. 

You feel the sand and rocks being kicked up from the back of the truck hit your skin. It feels like little pricks along your arm, you bring your hand up and look at the missing nails on your fingers. They did this to Katherine too, on both hands most likely while her husband watched. You look back down at her and over at Richard with his head in his hands, his back arched. 

“Hey.” Kyle calls, pulling your attention to him. “We got them, they’re safe.” You nod at him before looking back out into the dust and sand. Yeah, you got them, but at what cost?

…

When you make it back to the base there are already people waiting outside the medical building. Kyle jumps out the back of the truck as soon as it comes to a halt and he waves some people over with a gurney. You reach up and pick up the IV bag as the back of the truck gets open.  

You’re barely paying attention during the handover, helping the medics move her onto the gurney while you tell them everything you’ve done so far. The doctor comes over from the back of the other truck, he listens to the last half of your handover before you repeat the beginning from him. 

“Good job we can take-” 

“I can work. Put me to work, I'm good.” You say interrupting him before he can dismiss you. You watch him look past you at John and Simon. 

“Okay, you’re on resus.” He says, you smile and head into the building following Katherine and Richard. He is holding her hand as she’s pushed through to resus. A nurse comes up to you and start to pull your vest off as the other doctor goes into the room. 

“I can take your vest.” The nurse says. You nod, keeping your focus on Katherine, she’s going to be okay. 

She’s going to be okay. 

… 

By the time you clock out the medbay you’re exhausted. Your body is sore, your feet are throbbing. You’re walking over to Johnny’s room, that's the only place you want to be right now. You changed into a clean pair of scrubs before leaving, you need to get your kit and vest back but you’ll do that tomorrow. You just want to put your feet up and you could use a cup of tea. When you walk into the room you almost miss the fact that everyone is there. 

“Hey love!” Johnny calls. You rub your forehead and close the door behind you. “You look like you’ve been busy.” 

“Long day.” You say smiling and walking over to the first available seat. 

“Did you lose anyone?” Simon asks from the other end of the bed. You look over at him and smile. 

“No, everyones okay, even Katherine.” 

“You did well.” John says resting his hand on your shoulder. You nod leaning back in the chair. 

“I’d say she did more than well. Hostage transfers can be rough.” Johnny says. 

“I still can’t believe the bastard got away.” Kyle says. 

“Temporarily, we’ll get them.” Price says. 

“He was cocky, he knew he was going to get away. It’s also why he didn’t talk.” Simon says. 

“Ach, you tried your best LT.” Johnny says teasing him, it makes Kyle chuckle. 

“You really think we’ll find him Cap?” Kyle asks. John takes his hand off your shoulder and crosses his arms.

“We’ll find him, Jamal, Khaled and Sayyid, all of them. That's our job at the end of the day.” He says confidently. 

“When can we start?” Johnny asks, looking over at John. 

“When you get off your arse and get better.” Simon chuckles, Kyle joins in and Johnny’s head snaps over to protest. John smiles and looks down at you, your arms are crossed, you’re leaned back in the chair, your head tipped forward and your eyes are closed. You’ve kicked your shoes off John can still hear the others talking as he reaches down to pull a strand of your loose hair and tuck it behind your ear. 

You don’t move or react to it, the voices die down and John looks up to see everyone starting at him. Johnny shuffles in his bed pulling the duvet back leaving plenty of room for you to lay next to him. John gets the idea, even when he wraps his arms around you to pick you up you don’t wake. 

It’s only when you’re placed down in the bed and Johnny pulls you against him you mumble. John leans over to kiss your forehead and Johnny shushes you. As the duvet is pulled over you everyone slowly starts to sneak out the room. Johnny watches them leave pulling you tighter in his arms. 

“You better not die on me Johnny.” You murmur resting your head on his chest. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head. 

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[mind-intheclouds342]

I found her first - Jimmys pov

This chapter contains mature and dark content.

This is the little bonus (from Do it for them) chapter about why Jimmy is so mad about the cute couple we love.

Jimmy: "Do I really have to use that crap?"

He complained while running his hand over his member to make it hard, so he could put on the condom.

"I already told you, sweetheart, no party without a hat~ don't feel left out, I do this with everyone who comes through here~"

The only thing separating them was that wall, and the only thing connecting them was that hole through which the man slid his member, immediately letting out a moan upon feeling lips on it.

That was one of his favorite places, his favorite mouth, he spent his money there every time those lovely lips were on the other side.

He immersed himself in the pleasure and compliments he could hear from the other side, he adored every second of it.

"Oh~! Did you finish, darling? You've lasted longer than last time~ what a good boy!"

Jimmy: "Shut up... get ready for your payment"

He heard the giggle from the other side and slid the bill through the slot, seeing the edge of a bra and placing it right there.

Jimmy: "You say that you charge others first before providing your service... Why do you let me do it later?"

"Because you are my favorite customer~ and I trust you!"

Those words melted him, he always asked the same thing, to receive the same answer, it made his ego grow bigger.

He already noticed that her favorite mouth was in different places, not just doing these jobs.

When he knew he could find her in the alleys looking for something good to smoke and to forget about the world, he knew how to find her.

"20 dollars? Let's go... That's excessive for this amount..."

She complained but was desperate to get the only thing that relaxed her.

Jimmy: "Can you do something for me to get it for just 10?"

That's how he managed to see her face and her lips back on his member, but there he didn't receive any kind of praise, just a quick suck, but it was worth it to see her face, how her eyes rolled back when he pushed her head, making her choke on him, he loved being able to do that.

But it drove him crazy that she wouldn't even look at him, always avoiding any kind of eye contact.

To then end up smoking together by the shores of the lake at that place.

Jimmy: "You could get it for free if you would just let me..."

"No"

She said curtly, looking at the lake and scratching his leg repeatedly, which she couldn't stop moving.

Jimmy: "I'm just saying... I could give you a place to sleep, you know."

"Go to hell"

Jimmy: "You too"

He loved her company.

It was still very much present the day he had been cornered by a group of teenagers who tried to steal the merchandise he had to sell in that area.

They were armed with sticks and a knife, being five against just one, the man was at a disadvantage.

Until she arrived, without any remorse, she hit one on the head with a glass bottle, breaking it.

She grabbed him by the neck and pointed the broken bottle at his face.

"Leave him alone, or I'll kill your friend right here."

No matter how bad they wanted to appear, they couldn't leave their friend behind, so they dropped their weapons and left.

"That should at least give me a week of something good without any payment, right?"

She commented, taking her hand to help her up.

Jimmy: "Bitch, you only helped me for that"

"Of course, you bastard, do you think I care about you?"

But the smile with which she said it, said the exact opposite for him.

For him, she was his companion, a woman he could turn to at any moment, as long as he gave her something in return.

That's why when he saw her by his side... Immediately, his whole world crumbled.

Curly: "Jimmy! Let me introduce you to (Y/n)"

It was the first time he heard her name.

He watched her as she hid behind her friend, avoiding his gaze, fully aware of the things she had done with him, as if she wanted to pretend they had never happened.

Why are you with him?

Why do you hold onto him like that?

Are you really going to leave me?

They were questions that always crossed his mind, furious at having to witness how something that was his, something he had achieved on his own, was snatched away by someone else.

From that moment on, he never stopped insulting her, only saying unpleasant things about her to his friend, hoping that one day he would leave her and she would be his again.

But that never happened.

Jimmy: "Goddammit Curly, why don't you answer?"

He complained by leaving messages for his friend, with whom he was supposed to meet that day. He was going to his house and knocked on the door loudly to get his attention.

After several minutes, the man opened the door, embarrassed, wearing only his pants.

Curly: "Jimmy! We were supposed to meet today, weren't we? I'm sorry, I fell asleep! I'll get ready right away and let's go!"

He immediately knew it was a lie when he saw her hiding behind a wall, spying, with a blanket covering her body.

I also want to see it.

I also want to have it.

Why did you give it to him when I've kindly asked you so many times?

Jimmy: "Get ready quickly! You're wasting my time..."

His friend laughed and nodded, apologizing again for the problem.

Even their hopes of reclaiming what was theirs did not fade.

Even after they have gotten married.

He was going to get what he wanted, even if he had to snatch it from his friend's hands.

After all, he found her first.

[damnfeelings09]

Animals - Shadow's version

A.N: hey! I'm off to vacation for 5 days so I'm giving you two chapters, I already know how this au is going to end and I'm hoping I can come back to the regular one shots after that, also anybody here likes Leon Kennedy? My man fine and I've been thinkging about adding some storyes tho Shadow is still my main man. RED for stalker, GREEN for you.

Special mention to @animegoddess15 hope you like it! Remember to always check you locked your door twice.

Ever since then, not a single day went by that you don't get a text with those same two words. Every once in a while, a picture of you would be attached to the message praising how beautiful you were, saying all the dirty things he'll do to you. Fear took the better of you, you could no longer walk without looking back every 10 seconds, afraid to close the doors, and to walk home alone. Paranoia had become a shadow over your shoulders.

Pretending that everything was fine had always been your superpower, but between the messages, the school pressure, pretending that Shadow was something more than your classmate and the constant fights with Mailo caused by that, the exhaustion was getting the better of you and it was noticeable in the way you kept frowning, the constant zoone outs during class, the lack of participation. The stiffness in your shoulders and neck was killing you slowly.

“Wow bunny, it wouldn't hurt to relax” His hands gently caressed your skin, massaging your muscles trying to relieve the tension, while you kept your attention fixed on the Surgery questionnaire.

“Get your fucking paws out of her” hissed Mailo. He didn't understand why Shadow was always with you now, he wasn't your friend, he was a bully and had been for a long time. Why would you let him be with you? Why were you so close to him lately? Why would you let him touch you? Why would you want to stain your smooth, pure skin with the filthy paws of an animal? Mailo was annoyed and Shadow was enjoying it, you could tell by the way he nuzzled your neck and pulled his chest a little closer to your back until you were fully lying on top of him. “Are you deaf of something? I said don’t touch her”

“Sorry, too busy pleasing my girl”. - pronounced Shadow with a cocky grin on his face.

“Your girl?” the tension palpable between them both, good thing you were too focused or you'd have noticed the threat in his tone as his eye twitched.

She's mine

“Like I said my gi-“

“Would you please stop! I'm trying to concentrate” you said cutting him off as you got up from your place and put your stuff in your backpack. The noise in your head was already enough for you to have to put up with their egos fighting. “If you want to play whose dick is bigger that's fine, just leave me out of it.”

They both looked at you in shock as you walked to your Surgery class, praying that the little time you had to go over the questions would be enough to remember everything and pass the midterm exam.

“Mine's bigger” Shadow said as if it was nothing.

They both ran after you, Shadow reaching you first placing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. Mailo just watched you, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. It was hard enough for him to stifle his feelings, now seeing you with a freak as he called em was unbearable. His blood boiled at how you didn't even flinch at the act, on the contrary, you let him pull you closer, his fur rubbing against your bare arms. Mailo had accepted hardly that you wanted nothing to do with him, that you were just best friends and that was all, but he couldn't accept that, was this the reason you had rejected him over and over and over and over again? You both had leaved him behind as if you had forgotten about him but he definitely noticed how you leaned on Shadow as he stole one of his kisses, watching him out of the corner of your eye as if he had already won.

You can pretend that it was me

But no

Stolen kisses and pretty lies. That was all there was between you and Shadow but you couldn't deny that the bastard knew what he was doing when he put his arm around you pulling you to his chest, or his hands on your shoulders lessening the stress. Part of you wanted to feel his hands on other parts of your body, but you still fought that inner voice that just wanted to take him in. When he kissed you, it was quick, it looked like a pure, chaste kiss but you knew his fang had taken a good bite out of your lower lip, the metallic taste of blood making its way through the class reminding you of his promise threat that he would see you later.

By the time you got home it was past 22:00, all you wanted was to take a bath and sleep until the weekend, to stop thinking and just exist in the coolness of the warm water as if your problems could drain away. You were so focused on yourself that you forgot to lock the door when you arrived. An amateur mistake that would cost you dearly. You had been tempting him all afternoon and he couldn't wait to put his hands around your neck, push you against the wall, undress your body, smell every inch of your skin and make you his while you begged him not to. There was no turning back now, no more games. He would take what belonged to him.

Baby, I'm preying on you tonight

Hunt you down eat you alive

You placed a towel around your body, the warm drops of water running down your hair and onto your back, the tension was gone thanks to the magic of the water and playing the waves of the sea worked wonders when stress consumed you. You picked up your brush and approached the bathroom mirror ready to untangle your long hair, you ran your hand through the steam from the mirror and saw him. That tall figure, dressed all in black. You turned to face him but there was no one there, you quickly slammed the door locking it, your heart pounding out of your chest as you heard the knob being forced while holding it as if your life depended on it because it did. It was him, it was real. Your Stalker was in your house and you had no way to escape. You were going to die there, in your bathroom, covered only with a towel or worse, first he would torture you doing whatever he wanted with you just like in his calls and texts and then you would end up 10mts underground, would anyone miss you? would they even notice your absence? Suddenly your phone vibrated, an incoming call, but you were too scared to answer, what if it was him?

“Hey how you doing?” The second you recognized Shadow's voice on your voicemail you ran for the phone, but your desperation and trembling hands wouldn't allow you to accept the call until after several attempts.

“Is it you? I swear to the gods Shadow if this is a fucking prank I will-“

“Wow, slow down princess. I'm outside your home, told you I’ll see you later.” she sobs covering her mouth as she hears the door being forced again. “Did I interrupt something?

“Help me.” you whisper. Shadow senses the fear in your voice, he enters your house breaking through the front door, his stealthy footsteps skirting the furniture and glass on the floor, following the sound of your sobs, he grabs the doorknob and hesitates to enter until he hears a scream coming from your mouth. With a precise blow he breaks down the bathroom door now he owes you two doors and comes over, wrapping his arms around you, protecting you. You freeze at his touch, screaming for help. “Hey, hey Bunny? Shhhh It's me.” he says gently stroking your head. You've never seen Shadow worried before, his brow furrowed, his ears drooping, his red eyes examining every part of your face making sure you weren't hurt, his palm holding your cheek. You failed to contain it and threw yourself onto his chest, salty tears wetting his chest. “You sure missed me bunny.”

“There was some-hic inside, hic-break in” you say between sobs. Shadow rises to his feet, standing in attack position, his ears perked up, alert to the tiniest sound. In a gold-orangy blur he’s gone, running all over the house at super speed, and although it only took him 10 seconds to get back to you, it was enough to find you in a fetal position next to the shower.

“There's no one here” He says. You raise your head, you were sure you looked pathetic, hyperventilating with your eyes red and puffy due to our crying, tears rolling down your reddish cheeks, hair tangled and still wet from your shower, this was not the way you’ll like him to see you or anyone for the matters. To your surprise Shadow sighs and takes you in his arms bridal style right to your room, you peek through his shoulder to all the mess the stalker had made.

Placing you on your bed he takes off his t-shirt offering it to you to cover up. You pull the soft material over your head, the fitting to big on you falling right down the middle of your thigh. He turns around looking in your drawers for your underwear. It doesn't take him long to find them, choosing a white one with small lace ruffles, he tosses them in your direction and stays on his back while you get dressed. Once ready, Shadow picks up the brush on your bureau and begins brushing your hair. The silence between you is not overwhelming, it is pleasant, allowing you to release the last of your tears as his hand caresses your back. When he finishes he places you inside your bed covering you with the sheets ready to withdraw until you take his hand. “Don't leave me” the plea in your voice, your puppy eyes and the little pout on your lips stops him. He removes his shoes and the rest of his clothes crawling into bed with you. You rest your head on his chest snuggling against him entangling your leg between his, caressing his chest fur as Shadow wraps his arms around your waist. The warmth of his body and the sound of his heart soothe your senses and you slowly enter dreamland.

[authorhjk1]

Interlude: Venice

(IU X Male Reader )

Lee Jieun puts a strand of hair behind her ear, before smiling at the camera. The photoshoot is turning out really well. She got more than enough gorgeous pictures taken and only half of the day has gone by so far.

She is already excited about the second half of the day. You had to promise her that you would spend your time with her throughout the next three days. More than enough time so satisfy every single one of her needs.

"Alright."

IU smiles as the photographer stops taking pictures.

"We are finished with the first part. The second one will start in ten minutes. Miss Lee, we are going for a couple shoot this time."

The Korean woman politely bows her head, before heading towards her dressing room.

As she opens the door, she stops in her tracks.

"W-What are you doing here?"

You look up from your phone, seeing a stunned IU.

"I'm your partner for your shoot."

"But-"

You get off the sofa.

"You don't think I'm handsome enough?"

"Y-You are, but-"

Jieun seems afraid that someone could find out. The relationship between the two of you needs to be a secret.

"I just didn't expect you to be here."

"Why not? I promised to fuck you, didn't I?"

Jieun glances behind her making sure the door really is closed.

"But not here!"

She whispers a shout, visibly scared that someone could find out.

"Relax. We have 10 more minutes, don't we?"

You sneak your hands around IU's waist.

That black dress highlights her slim figure. Her blonde hair makes her look even better than her natural colour.

"What do you want me to do? And where do you want it?"

You feel the older woman shiver slightly with excitement. The thrill of possibly getting caught arouses her even more now.

"Your mouth."

She kisses your cheekbone.

"C-Can you please eat me out?"

You see her blush. Now that she is actually asking you for something, she becomes a little shy.

"You want me to bury my face in your pussy?"

IU's mouth escapes a needy whine as you plant an image in her head.

You take that as a yes. Your hands on her waist turn her around, before bending her over the make up table on your right. The mirror on the wall is decorated by a couple of lights.

Kneeling behind her, you admire how fine IU's body looks in that tight dress. Especially her butt, since it's right in front of you now.

You start to slowly rise the hem of her one-piece. More and more smooth skin gets revealed, the further you hike it up. Finally bunching it up around her waist, you expose IU's matching panties.

The black fabric is the only thing that now seperates you from your delicious meal.

Aware that you have limited time, you quickly pull down her underwear. Enjoying the feeling of her skin, you give each of the blonde's butt cheeks a kiss.

Jieun let's out a delighted moan. She is excited for the next three days. And it seems like they are starting out really well.

As promised, you bury your face deep in IU's pussy. You take in her scent and the slight sweetness of her juices as you hear her moan. Parting her lower lips with your tongue, you enter her hot cavern.

"Mmmm."

IU let's out another satisfied moan.

You feel her hand reaching for your head, trying to push you further into her, while she backs up a little. Your own rest on her hips as you eat her out.

Jieun's wide eyes stare into the mirror as she feels your tongue, burying itself deep inside her pussy. She can't believe how horny she is, when she sees you. She just needs some sort of pleasurable outlet, whenever you are close to her. Maybe that's because of that night in Paris.

She still doesn't know who the other woman was. It makes her feel really weird. Especially when she meets other idols during award shows, music shows, or other events. A shiver runs down her spine. The person, who buried their strap on inside the most intimate part of her body, might be someone she interacts with on a daily basis.

For a moment she thought that her best friend, Yoo Inna, could've been that person. But she quickly got rid of that suspicion. The woman's voice sounded different.

IU moans into the mirror as you feast on her delicious pussy.

The fact that it could be someone she knows, someone younger than her, someone who knows what a slut she is, turns her on even more.

You use that to your advantage, knowing that you don't have much time.

Jieun's legs quiver harder with every passing second. Your fingers dig into her flesh, pulling her plump cheeks apart to give you better access to her hot core.

"Oh fuck!"

With a loud and deep moan, Jieun let's her head sink onto the table. Juices start to run down her thighs in small streams as she orgasms inside her dressing room.

"Took you long enough."

You tease her as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Please put an arm around her."

You do what the photographer tells you to do. Your hand finds its place on IU's waist. The soft black fabric reminds both of you, what you just did mere minutes ago.

"Turn to the side and place a hand on his chest."

Jieun follows the man's orders, placing her hand on your white shirt, right about your heart. You didn't move yours, which means your hand is now resting on her back. Only inches away from her ass.

Being the professional she is, Jieun grabs your tie, while looking up at you.

"Very nice!"

The photographer keeps taking pictures.

"You like this one?"

You whisper out of the corner of your mouth.

"You like being blindfolded, do you?"

While looking at the camera, you can't see IU's reaction. But you can hear how her breath hitches. She knows fully well what you are talking about.

"Who was it?"

A question she asked before. A question you are not going to answer.

The photographer stops Jieun from asking again, making the two of you do a more mature concept.

IU stands now directly in front of you, leaning her head to the side. You reach around her waist, holding her tight. For the photo, you are only supposed to pretend to kiss her. But when you burry your face into her neck, you can't help yourself.

Jieun's mouth opens a little in surprise and enjoyment. Everyone thinks she is just doing this for the photo. But you know better. Your lips move across her smooth skin.

Only the sound of IU's moans echo through the room. The tie you wore earlier is covering her eyes. It takes her back to the night in Paris, turning her on even more.

"Oh fuck!"

Jieun moans loudly as you take her from behind.

The sun is slowly starting to rise over the roofs of the beautiful houses around your hotel. Which means you were fucking her the whole night. Only taking a break to recover your stamina and eat.

But now, 12 hours after the photoshoot, Jieun is bend over the edge of the bed. Her knees are placed on the carpet in front of it, while you kneel behind her.

She looks smaller than usual in this position. You hold her by her wrists with one hand, while the other presses her shoulder into the mattress.

The blue dress she wore at the end of the shoot is probably still lying in the shower. Wet from the shower the two of you took around midnight. It's probably lying there since you came into your room though. You remember throwing it somewhere, after ripping it off her small body.

Jieun kept her boots on at first, partially because you threw her onto the bed, before she was able to take them off. They are now lying near the windowsill. You took them off her feet as you fucked her back against the glass. There wasn't much space there.

Her underwear must be lying around somewhere too.

"Oh my good! You are bruising my pussy!"

You probably do. You haven't gone longer than ten minutes without you fucking Jieun in the last 12 hours.

That thought reminds you of where the rest of her clothes are. Her bra is dangling from the chandelier in the middle of the room. Don't even ask how it got up there, you don't even remember. It's blue, matching her dress and her panties. Her panties...

"I'm! Fucking! Cuming! So! Hard!"

As IU orgasms violently, her pussy squeezing your cock, you do your best to hold on. You are almost at the edge yourself.

"Oh my god! I'm such a mess."

You hear her mumble into the mattress, probably to herself.

Now you remember where her panties are. Or rather with whom.

During dinner time, most of the guests in the hotel visit the restaurant next to the lobby. At that time, the hotel stuff goes through the rooms and cleans, preparing them for the night.

They usually only come in, when no one answers to their knocking and if they don't hear noises behind the door.

That's why the two of you got caught by a very surprised hotel maid.

IU's panties in her mouth, muffling her screams, while you fucked her into the leather couch. The two of you were too lost in the act itself to hear the door.

It didn't take much work to convince the beautiful Italian woman to join. The brunette was more than willing to share with IU, when you eventually came on both of their faces.

She stayed for an hour or so, leaving with a souvenir. You don't know her name, but maybe she will be back today. It's not like the two of you are going anywhere.

"Damn you whore. How are you still so fucking tight?"

Jieun weakly laughs into the sheets as you keep fucking her from behind.

"A-Are you close?"

The longer you fuck her, the longer it takes for you to cum. Your body just doesn't seem to be able to keep up with you.

"Soon."

You groan, thinking about a position, where you can drive yourself faster to another orgasm.

"Do you want my ass? It's tighter, you know."

Jieun gladly tries to help you to decide. She knows how hard it is for you to cum consistently every hour almost.

"Where is the lube?"

You search the room, IU is unable to do so.

You try to remember the last time you used it. Your thrusts slow down as you try to think about it.

A couple of moments later, you start to fuck Jieun's ass, right where you found the small bottle of lube.

"You're stretching me out really good."

She moans against the white tiles of the shower as you plow her from behind.

The water is turned off this time. IU's hair is wet. Not because of the shower a couple of hours ago, but a lot of sweat and some of your cum. It sticks to her neck and shoulders.

"Why can't we spend every night like this one?"

She weakly moans, trying to sneakily convince you to do just that.

"Not a chance, Jieun."

"Please?"

Her cute whine makes you press her cheek against the cold tile, her ass slightly tightening around you as a result.

"I still have a girlfriend to satisfy. And work."

Another pitiful mewl escapes her mouth.

Your thrusts become harder and faster, knowing how much the older woman needs you. The last couple of hours proved, how much Jieun has started to become addicted to the feeling of your cock inside of her.

"I never want this trip to end."

She sighs in disappointment as you keep fucking her ass.

"I'm getting close."

You see her smile, her eyes still covered by your tie.

"Please cum in me. The last time you left a load there feels like ages ago."

"Beg for it, slut."

Her begging is necessary for you to reach the edge at this point.

"Please, cum in my ass."

You slightly pick up the pace. There is not much juice left in your body. In more than one sense.

"Use my hole like a cum dump."

"That's the only thing it's good for."

"You're right, daddy. Use my body properly."

With both hands holding onto her ass cheeks, you thrust deeper into IU.

"You ruined me for anyone else, daddy."

Red marks, produced by your grip, mark her cheeks. They ripple, whenever you thrust into her from behind.

"This body is yours now. Only you can make me cum."

"That's a good girl."

You kiss her neck as you feel yourself closing in on that edge of the cliff. You enjoy how much control you have over her. A woman who is older than you. A woman who is a globally known singer and actress. Offering her body to you and begging you to cum in her.

"Yes, daddy. I'm a good girl. Please."

Your last couple of thrusts are slow but hard. You hit Jieun's cervix with every snap of your hips, making her jolt forward. The tight ring of her muscles squeezes you hard, begging you to fill her body with your cum.

"Damn, Jieun."

You groan her name as you finally cum.

It's honestly not much. It's a small load compared to the one you gave her right after the photoshoot. But your body is drained of all it's fluits. You don't have much more to offer. IU's body has soaked up every last drop of your cum. You wonder how much you came inside of her. Probably a week's worth of cum.

You have to hold onto the glass wall as you watch Jieun slowly glide down along the tiles. When she reaches the floor, she looks up at you with big eyes. Her blonde hair partially covers her face.

"I think I need a longer brake this time."

You can see how much she is trying to hide her disappointment. Although, she is visibly tired as well.

The lock on your hotel room door beeps, letting you know that someone is coming in, using the second key card.

"Mr. (Y/n)?"

High heels click on the marble floor in the small hallway at the entrance.

Her Italian accent seems to always try to seduce you.

You know that voice. You heard it last night, when she sucked you off, asking you to fuck her on the balcony.

"Looks like your new best friend is hear."

You're kinda glad. The two of them can take care of each other for a while and you can recharge.

Once the young maid stands in the door, your tired body starts to react. The break is gonna be as short as possible.

-----------

Hope you guys enjoy this.

I'm going to sort some of my smaller stories and make posts, where you can find all the chapters, so don't be surprised if I post something with a title you've already seen.

Stay healthy!

[writingpandagoth]

Hello hello! I really really love your work and talent with all my being! You have helped me through these hectic weeks in my work and believe me you made me smile and laugh :) Could I ask for a request? If you like of course, don't worry if you cannot.

Reader has been in love with Professor Severus Snape since her 5th year (or any year you decide) , but of course because of their status and age (10 years of difference max) she never tells him so she writes a diary about him. Now, she teaches in Hogwarts (you can choose the subject) and has never stopped loving him (and the diary continues) but treats with respect and kindness...one day she forgets the diary and he finds it and, of course read it...fluff fluff please 🫣

(Could the reader be his first and only love please? Sorry I am being such a romantic 😥)

Thank you so much!❤️

I am glad that my writing has brought you joy and I hope that it will be less stressful for you.😘❤️

Of course I can do that for you!

I hope this will bring you just as much joy as all the other stories.

Ink Stained Secrets

The office was cold.

Not because of the dungeons, though they certainly didn’t help—but because it didn’t feel like his yet. The shelves were still too empty. The desk too polished. The walls too bare.

He had returned to Hogwarts not as a student this time, but as a professor.

The offer had come unexpectedly. A last-minute resignation. A quiet note from Dumbledore. An understanding that he was... available. And brilliant.

“Professor Snape,” the Headmaster had said with a smile. “It suits you.”

He wasn’t so sure.

The students didn’t fear him yet. That would come later.

Right now, they whispered when he walked past. Stared at him like they couldn’t decide if he was still one of them. Some still knew his name. They remembered the rumors.

He kept his tone clipped, his robes immaculate, his expression unreadable. It was armor he wore well. He put Students into their place with such an authority that even the seventh years shut up the second he walked into the room.

The fifth years were the worst. Old enough to question his authority but still young enough to not do it out loud.

Students would come to class silently and leave as fast as possible once it was over. They started to fear his strict teaching and his coldness he always brought with him.

But under all those students one wouldn't quite wrap his head around.

He noticed you early on. Not because you were loud or disobedient—but because you were precise, focused and strangely unafraid of him.

Severus would catch you watching him closely almost like you were trying to understand something no one else saw.

He wasn’t foolish. He knew what it looked like, knew what a too-long gaze or a soft-spoken compliment might be misread as, especially him still being young and closer to the students ages than the other Professors.

So he carried on like every other day.

--

The dungeons are quieter after hours.

Most students bolt the moment class ends, eager to escape the chill and the lingering smell of crushed root and scorched cauldron. But you’ve always stayed a little longer. You tell yourself it’s to perfect your technique. To clean your station just right. To ask one more question, even if you already know the answer.

Professor Snape never sends you away.

He never says much at all, really. Sometimes he’ll offer a curt nod when you hand him a particularly well-brewed vial. Other times, he lingers at his desk while you pack up, eyes flicking briefly in your direction—but never long enough to feel like permission.

Today, your potion was perfect. Even he said so.

“Efficient,” he muttered when he passed your table, barely glancing at the pale violet swirl in your vial. “Clean execution.”

It wasn’t much.

But from him? It was everything.

Now you’re curled into your usual corner of the library—a hidden spot behind the stacks, where a small stone window lets in just enough moonlight to see by. Your school bag sits beside you. In your lap: your diary.

The cover is worn from your hands, the spine already soft from nightly use. You open to a fresh page and press your quill to it.

October 19th Professor Snape said my potion was efficient today. He didn’t frown. He didn’t sigh. He just said it and walked away like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. It was… more than I expected. More than I probably deserved. I think I admire him. Not just for his knowledge—though he’s brilliant—but for the way he carries himself. How he never bends for anyone. How he sees everything, even if he pretends not to. I think there’s something lonely in him. Something he doesn’t show the students. I don’t know why I notice it. I just do. He’s not kind. Not gentle. But… I think there’s a softness in him anyway. Somewhere. I saw it today. Just for a moment.

You stop writing, suddenly self-conscious.

It’s just a diary. Just ink. No one will ever read it. It doesn’t matter.

But still, you press your palm to the page, as if to seal the words in place. As if naming them out loud would make them too real.

He’s your professor, you shouldn't think of him like that despite him being only older by 6 years but already, you know: this feeling won’t fade easily.

It doesn’t happen all at once.

Falling for him is slow—like water slipping between cracks in stone. Quiet. Patient. Unstoppable.

At first, you really just admire him. His knowledge. His precision. The way his lectures never waste a single word. You start staying after class—not because you need help, but because it means one more minute in his presence. One more question. One more chance to hear him speak directly to you.

Other students think he’s cold, cruel, detached.

But you start to see something else.

He doesn’t smile, but he remembers things. Your favorite base ingredients. That you prefer silver knives to pewter. That you always adjust your heat clockwise when reducing. He never praises you, but he stops correcting you. That, in his language, says more than enough.

You start watching him more than you should. In class. At meals. When he walks the halls, robes sweeping like a shadow you’d gladly step into.

You start writing about him every night.

Not just about what he says, or how he moves. But how you feel.

November 1st I caught myself staring at his hands again. The way he handles ingredients—so careful, so exact. He never fumbles. He always knows what comes next. I wonder if he’s like that with everything. If his touch is always that sure.

November 13th Today he leaned over my cauldron. His sleeve brushed mine. My brain stopped working for a full five seconds. I hope he didn’t notice. He noticed. I’m doomed.

December 2nd The poem I wrote tonight is awful. Melodramatic. Completely unrealistic. He’d mock it if he read it. But I can’t help it. I dreamt about him again.

It gets worse before it gets better.

You don’t mean to let it grow this big. But it’s hard not to. He’s there, every day. And he’s not cruel to you. Not distant. Not warm either, but… real. Constant.

You write him into metaphors.

Into dreams you wake up blushing from.

Into quiet fantasies you’d never speak aloud.

And your diary that once was filled with your days, It becomes his.

Page after page, filled with his name and your love.

January 18th If I said it—if I looked him in the eyes and told him what’s in this book—what would he do? Would he laugh? Would he be kind? Would he look at me like I’m just a silly child with a crush on someone she doesn’t understand? I understand him. I see him. Even if he’ll never see me the same way.

But you never tell him. Of course you don’t.

He’s your professor after all and you are just his students whose heart can't stop screaming out for him.

So you carry on into your sixth and seventh year, never stop writing and never once stop looking at him.

You carry on even as your trunk is packed for the last time.

The dormitory is half-empty, voices echoing down the corridor as students say rushed, cheerful goodbyes. You stand in front of the mirror with your robes fastened, hair smoothed down, pretending your heart doesn’t feel like it’s caught behind your ribs.

You haven’t seen him since your last Potions exam. He handed you your marks without comment, eyes skimming over you like you were nothing more than a formality.

You wanted to speak to him, to just say something, to make him remember you but you stayed silent.

instead you went to the corner of the library, hidden behind the shelves with your diary in your lap—just like you were the first time you ever wrote about him. Your quill hovers over the blank page.

You take a breath. And begin.

June 24th I leave in the morning. I don’t think I’ll see him again. Not really. I could have gone down to the dungeons. Said goodbye. Thanked him. But I didn’t. Because if he looks at me like I’m just another student again, I think I might break. So I’ll say it here instead. Goodbye, Severus Snape. Thank you for the way you saw me, even when you pretended not to. Thank you for every second you let me stay behind after class. For every moment you didn’t push me away. I know you never asked for this affection. I know I never told you the truth but it’s yours. Every word. Every page. It was always you.

You close the diary and press your hand to the cover.

You don’t cry.

But you don’t smile either.

You just hold it to your chest, and walk away without looking back.

--

It has been nearly nine years since you last walked these halls. You were different now, Older, more open.

And yet, when your boots touch the stone floor, it’s like nothing ever changed. The same chill in the dungeons. The same hum in the walls. The same faint, citrusy-clean scent that hangs in the air when Filch is on a warpath.

You told yourself you’d accepted the post for the opportunity. That the role—Professor of Magical Theory—was a step forward. A chance to teach, to explore the subject you fell in love with before you ever picked up a wand.

You told yourself it had nothing to do with the man who used to haunt your dreams and walks these halls like a shadow.

You were lying.

It’s all still here.

And so is he.

You don’t see him right away.

Your first day is a blur of meetings, scrolls, schedules, a tour you don’t need and polite, distant greetings from professors who once gave you homework. It’s strange, being one of them now. Stranger still to stand at the staff table instead of staring up at it.

Your classroom is near the library. Quiet, sunlit in the mornings. You arrange the shelves just the way you want them. You unpack your books in careful stacks, placing your old, worn diary in the desk drawer with trembling fingers.

You’re not sure why you brought it.

Habit, maybe. Hope. The words are still there. The old pages. The poems. The confessions. The longing.

You tell yourself you won’t write about him again. You know you’re lying this time too.

You see him that evening on your way back from dinner, lingering in the corridor just outside the staffroom, when the door opens and he steps out.

Time doesn’t stop.

But it does stutter.

He looks almost exactly the same. A little older. A little sharper around the eyes. But still in those same dark robes. Still walking like he owns the silence around him.

Your breath catches before you can help it. He stops when he sees you. For a moment, you’re fifteen again but then he says your name.

No title. No surname. Just… you and just like that, you’re not a student anymore.

You manage a smile. “Hello, Professor Snape.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Not anymore.”

You try not to beam.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to call you Severus?”

His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes. Warmer, just for a second.

“Long overdue,” he says, and walks past you.

Your heart doesn’t stop racing for a long, long time.

That night, you write again.

The first entry in nearly two months.

He said my name. Not like I was a student. Not like I was anyone he had to tolerate. Just my name. It shouldn’t matter. But it does. I missed him. Gods, I missed him.

It’s not awkward, the first time you sit beside him the next day.

You think it might be. You think maybe he’ll raise an eyebrow, make a comment, shift his chair ever so slightly away from yours.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t say anything when you slide into the seat next to him at the staffroom table. Just nods once in quiet acknowledgment and pushes the sugar bowl a little closer to your side of the table.

The silence between you is companionable. The fire crackles gently. A few professors murmur nearby, caught in a conversation about House Cup logistics.

You sip your tea and glance at him over the rim of your cup. “Is it really tradition to bet on which first-year will cry first?”

His eyes flick toward you. “I wouldn’t know. Minerva usually handles the gambling pool.”

You grin. “But you do keep count, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. Just lifts his teacup to his lips, the barest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

You find yourself sitting beside him again the next day.

And the next.

It becomes a pattern before you realize it. Not something either of you speaks about, but something you both seem to expect.

The empty chair is always waiting. So is the second cup of tea.

One afternoon, you pass each other in the corridor outside the library. You nod politely. He pauses.

“You’ve started leaving your classroom door open,” he says, voice low.

You raise an eyebrow. “Observing my behavior now, Severus?”

“I hear less screaming when it’s open.”

You snort. “That’s because I bribe them with chocolate.”

“Unethical.”

“Effective.”

He hums. “You were always insufferably clever.”

You offer a bright smile. “Still am.”

He turns to go, but you catch the smallest flicker of amusement as he walks away.

You float through the rest of your afternoon.

He insulted me today. Or tried to. The way his voice softens when he teases—he doesn’t do that for anyone else. I shouldn’t read into it. But gods, it’s hard not to.

That night, you’re in the staffroom again, curled into your usual chair with a pile of scrolls and a quill that’s trying very hard to die. Severus walks in, his robes brushing the floor, and without looking, sets a steaming cup of tea beside you.

You smile up at him. “You’re going to spoil me.”

“Unlikely.”

Still, he sits beside you. Still, he stays.

And when you reach for your diary again that evening, fingers stained with ink and heart a little too full, you write:

He brings me tea like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Like it doesn’t make my chest ache every time he does it.

He doesn’t speak much in meetings. You’ve noticed.

He listens, eyes half-lidded, arms crossed, contributing only when something truly ridiculous is said. Most of the staff steer clear of him. Or, more accurately, speak around him.

You don’t.

You sit beside him. Pass him notes with sarcastic commentary when the new Muggle Studies professor rambles. He rarely responds—but once in a while, he writes something back in tight, elegant script that makes you bite back a laugh and elbow him under the table.

And he doesn’t move away.

That part still surprises you. It shouldn’t. But it does.

You start to learn his rhythms again. When he’s had a bad day, he walks faster. Sharper turns. Less patience.

When he’s distracted, he fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. When he’s focused, nothing else exists.

You pass him in the corridor between classes and offer a half-smile. He nods once, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might return it. You file that moment away like treasure.

One evening, you find yourselves alone in the staffroom. There’s a pot of tea already brewed. The fire is low. You’ve both had long days, judging by the slump in your shoulders and the stiffness in his jaw.

He doesn’t speak as you walk in. Just nods, gestures vaguely at the armchair across from his, and fills your mug when you settle.

For a while, you both sit in silence.

The kind that feels earned.

Comfortable.

You watch him as he reads, eyes flicking over the page of a worn book, one hand turning pages, the other cradling his mug. He looks tired. Older. But not hard. Not now. Not like this.

“You never drink tea during staff meetings,” you murmur, voice low.

“I never had to stay awake for them before,” he replies.

You smile. “So I’m not the only one who finds Professor Binns’s voice... soothing in a near-lethal way?”

“He sounds like someone enchanted a foghorn.”

You laugh softly. “I didn’t know you were this funny back then.”

“I wasn’t,” he says simply. “You were a student.”

There’s something in the way he says it. Not harsh. Not regretful. Just true.

“But I’m not anymore,” you say.

You don’t mean for it to come out that way. So quiet. So certain.

He looks at you. Really looks.

“No,” he says after a long moment. “You’re not.”

Later that night, curled in your office chair, you pull out your diary again.

The pages know your truths better than anyone ever has.

We’re not student and teacher anymore. I know that. But sometimes I wonder if he’s noticed. If he hears it in my voice. If he sees it in the way I sit beside him now instead of behind him. Sometimes he looks at me like he’s remembering something. And sometimes I think he’s trying not to.

--

You’re in your office when he knocks—two short raps, followed by the familiar creak of your door swinging open before you’ve even answered.

Only one person ever enters like that.

You don’t look up right away. You’re in the middle of writing—lesson notes on one scroll, your diary open on the other side of the desk, its worn cover tucked against your elbow like a secret kept close.

“Afternoon, Severus,” you say, dipping your quill again. “Didn’t expect you.”

He steps inside, hands folded neatly behind his back. “I came to return this.”

He places a slim book—Magical Chaos: A Theoretical Study—on the corner of your desk. A loan from your personal shelves, one you’d half-forgotten he took.

You glance up and smile. “Did it bore you senseless or was there a grudging ounce of value?”

He raises an eyebrow. “It was Tolerable.”

You grin. “High praise.”

His gaze drops then—to your desk. To the open pages of parchment and the small, leather-bound diary tucked beside them.

You see it the moment his eyes flick there.

“That thing,” he mutters. “You’re always scribbling in it.I think you even had it when I started teaching.”

You casually slide a spare scroll over it. Not rushed. Not guilty. Just... protective.

“I like to write,” you say, carefully breezy. “Some habits never die.”

He doesn’t look away and watches your every move. "Writing cryptic little secrets are we?”

You glance at him, smile teasing. “Always.”

His tone turns dry. “Plotting against me?”

“Of course,” you reply. “It’s filled with plans to subtly replace all your potion ingredients with decaffeinated alternatives.”

He steps a little closer, brow raised. “I suspected treason.”

You shift the scroll a bit more. “You never be able to prove it in court.”

He watches you in silence for a second longer, then makes a low sound—not quite a chuckle—and turns away, the book you lent him now forgotten on the desk.

“You’ve always been insufferable,” he says.

“And yet, here you are,” you murmur.

He pauses at the door.

Then, over his shoulder, so quiet it’s almost lost:

“I suppose I don’t mind the insufferable ones anymore.”

And then he’s gone.

You stare at the door long after he leaves, the ghost of a grin tugging at your lips.

You open your diary.

He asked about this book today. Stared at it like he was trying to read it through the cover. I wonder what he’d do if he actually opened it. If he saw everything I never said. The poems. The dreams. The little notes about how he looks when he’s tired or how he sounds when he says my name. I think he’d laugh. Or worse—he leaves. I wish I could tell him the truth.

The staffroom is dim and quiet that night, lit by the soft flicker of the fireplace. Most of the others have gone off to bed. You linger, scrolls abandoned in your satchel, the smell of tea steeping in the air between you and him.

Severus is reading. As always. One leg crossed neatly over the other, a book balanced in one hand, his tea in the other. You’ve lost count of how many nights have ended like this.

You don’t talk constantly. You don’t have to.

There’s a peace in simply sharing space with him.

You cradle your mug, watching the firelight flicker in the curve of his jaw. He looks softer like this. Not unguarded. Just... human.

You want to memorize him.

Instead, you say, “If someone had told me in fifth year I’d be having tea with you after curfew like it’s the most normal thing in the world…”

He glances up. “You’d have reported them to Pomfrey?”

“I’d have laughed first” you say, smiling faintly.

His mouth twitches. “Of course.”

A comfortable silence stretches again.

Then he says it—offhanded, casual.

“You were always kind of the exception. Most students never stayed in my memory after they left.”

It’s not meant to hurt but it lands anyway.

You keep your smile in place, because you’ve practiced it for years.

“You remember me?” you say lightly, teasing. “And care to tell what you remember of me?”

He gives a slow, deliberate nod. “You were curious. Persistent. Unafraid.”

You hold your breath. Waiting for more but that’s it.

Just a compliment tucked neatly into the past tense.

Just a memory. Nothing more.

You sip your tea, letting it hide the ache in your throat. You sit a while longer. He doesn’t notice that you’ve stopped speaking.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why it still hurts after all these years.

He sees you but not in the way you see him.

He sees the girl who stayed behind after class and he taught but he doesn't see the woman who loves him in silence with everything she has.

An in the darkness this hurts more than the years you lived without seeing him.

Eventually, you get up and light your wand, just enough to open your diary.

He said I was the exception. I think he meant it kindly but it only reminded me that I’m still just a memory to him. A fond recollection. One of the good ones. He’ll never know I loved him then and that I stayed in love with him all this time. And I think I’d rather break than have him pity me for it.

You wake up twenty minutes late.

The clock is cruel. Your robes are wrinkled. Your notes are in a tragic half-stack on your desk, and the rain outside is doing a frankly unnecessary impression of a full-blown thunderstorm.

You curse as you grab your satchel—too full, too heavy—and sling it over your shoulder while stuffing a half-eaten piece of toast into your mouth. The strap twists. The toast falls. You mutter something unprintable.

Your students are expecting you in ten minutes.

You are, officially, in chaos.

You charge down the corridor, hair clinging to your damp face, satchel slipping down your arm—and then you round the corner just outside the library and crash directly into someone solid.

Everything goes flying.

Scrolls, books, your wand, a quill or two, and—somewhere—your diary.

You stumble backward, completely winded—except a firm hand catches your arm before you fall.

You blink.

It’s him.

Of course it’s him.

Severus is standing there in his usual dark robes, a slightly startled expression flickering across his face.

His hand lingers at your elbow for a moment longer than necessary.

“Merlin,” you breathe, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry—I'm late—I wasn’t watching—bloody hell, everything’s a mess—”

“I can see that,” he says calmly, already crouching to gather your fallen things.

You follow, scrambling to collect scattered parchment and your now-soggy notes. Your heart is racing—not from the fall, not really—but from the way his fingers brushed your arm. The way he steadied you without hesitation.

“I overslept,” you say breathlessly, reaching for a scroll. “Horribly. I haven’t done that since my seventh year. My toast burned and then fell down, my ink exploded, I think I left my wand cap in the butter dish, and now I’ve just bowled over you and your books are a mess too.”

“Well be glad it wasn't Binns otherwise you would be never getting to class,” he says dryly, handing you a book.

You blink at him. “Was that… a joke?”

He doesn’t answer. Just lifts another book and passes it to you. Your hands brush.

You don’t notice the diary isn’t among the books he hands you or that instead he is the one picking it up with his own Books.

You’re already gathering your scattered dignity and rushing off down the corridor, muttering thanks over your shoulder and trying to tame your hair with one hand while clutching your scrolls in the other.

You don’t look back.

You don’t see the way Severus turns the leather-bound book over in his hand.

You don’t see the way his brow furrows—just slightly—as he recognizes it.

--

It’s later—long after the corridors have emptied, after the last of the lamplight has been extinguished—that Severus finally returns to his chambers.

The rain has dulled to a whisper against the windows. The fire in the hearth crackles low, casting shadows along the stone walls. A single candle flickers on his desk, already near its base.

And beside it, resting in the soft pool of amber light—

Your diary.

He sits down in silence.

His hand moves to it almost of its own accord. The leather is warm from where he carried it earlier. Worn at the edges. A deep crease in the spine, from being opened too many times to count.

He remembers it now—more clearly than he expected. You used to keep it tucked beside your textbooks in class, fingers curling around it when you thought no one noticed. You never wrote in it during his lectures, but afterward… always afterward, when you lingered.

He never asked what you wrote.

But now, the answer is in his hands.

He opens it slowly.

The first page is harmless—doodles in the margins, a few lines about Potions theory in your looping, careful hand.

And then—

His name.

Written small at first. Barely noticeable.

Then again. And again.

Some entries are dated other are just scattered notes.

He said “efficient.” I know it was just a word. But it meant something. From him, it always does.

His voice when he’s lecturing—cold, precise. But when he says my name, it softens. Only slightly. I might be imagining it. But I hope I’m not.

Then come the poems. He hadn’t expected those.

You touch the edge of a vial like it might flinch. You speak like your words are spells— measured, exact, never wasted. I could write pages about your hands, but I think it’s your silence that undoes me.

My essays. My notes. My dreams. You’re in every metaphor. Every margin. I want to stop. I do. But loving you feels like breathing now. Unnoticed. Constant. Essential.

He reads one. Then another. Then five more.

Some are clumsy, full of schoolgirl longing and nervous adoration. Others are refined. Raw. Painfully adult.

I wonder what your voice sounds like when it breaks. Not in pain— but in pleasure. Low. Ragged. Caught somewhere between a growl and my name. I imagine it too often. It never leaves me whole.

You’ve never given me detention. But I’ve imagined it. Alone with you after hours. Your voice lower, sharper— the kind of tone that makes me want to misbehave again just to hear it. And if you leaned over my desk and told me to watch my mouth? Gods, I wouldn’t.

He turns the pages like they might burn.

There are passages that stop him entirely:

I dreamt of him again. Nothing inappropriate this time. Just tea. A fire. Silence between us. He looked at me like I was something good. I think that’s all I want. For him to look and see me.

He doesn't know he made me love books differently. I used to think they were just stories. But he makes words feel like weapons, like gifts, like truths. I think I love him because he speaks like everything matters.

And further in—entries written years after you left school:

It’s been three years. I should be over it. I’m not. I don’t want to be. Loving him is the one constant thing I’ve ever carried with me.

Saw him at the Ministry today. He didn’t see me. But I knew that voice before I turned around. I still would’ve found him blind.

And finally, the more recent ones. The ones written after you returned to Hogwarts.

I sit next to him now. Drink his tea. Hear his quiet jokes meant only for me. He has no idea I write about him still. But every moment I spend beside him feels like stealing fire. And still I keep my hand in the flame. But I stay silent because I know he doesn't. And I rather have him like this than not at all.

If he ever read this, I think I’d die of embarrassment. But part of me hopes—just a little—that if he did, he might understand how deeply I’ve always, always loved him.

By the time he reaches the end, the candle has burned nearly to nothing.

The fire in the hearth has gone low. The room is full of shadow and quiet.

He closes the book. His hand lingers on the cover, fingertips pressed against the leather like it might still be warm from your touch.

He doesn’t speak because he’s just read every secret you were too afraid to say.

Now he knows.

--

You don’t realize the diary is gone until well past dinner.

You’re in your office, reorganizing your desk, pulling scrolls from your satchel when your fingers brush an empty space that should never be empty.

Your heart skips.

You pause, check again.

Not in the drawer. Not beneath the folders. Not tucked into your notes or behind your lesson plans.

Gone.

Your diary is gone.

You tear through your office, frantic. Check your classroom. Your quarters. Your desk again. It doesn’t make sense. You had it this morning. You know you did. You always keep it close.

And then—

You remember the crash in the corridor. The scrolls. The books. The way he helped you pick them up. The way he handed you everything but that.

Severus.

You don’t think.

You just go.

The hall to his chambers is quiet. The castle feels too big, too echoing. You knock once, sharp and breathless. You can hear his voice saying to come in and so you do.

The candlelight spills gently into his chambers as you step inside, heart pounding so hard it echoes in your ears.

Severus is seated in his armchair by the fire.

He’s calm. Still. Too still.

You don’t notice the diary at first. Not really. You’re too busy scanning the shelves, the table, the space around him.

“I—um—sorry to bother you,” you start, breathless, “but I think I might’ve left something behind earlier. A small book. Leather cover. Old. I didn’t notice it was missing until just now…”

Your voice trails off and your breath catches when you see it—your diary, resting closed on his lap. His hand lays lightly across the cover, fingers splayed as if he’s trying to absorb the words through touch alone. His face is unreadable, but not cold. Just… thoughtful.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he rises. His movements are quiet. Deliberate.

He steps toward you, crossing the room with slow certainty, and holds out the diary—fingers gripping the spine gently, like he’s handling something fragile.

You reach for it but he doesn’t let go. Your fingers pause against his, and that’s when your eyes lift to meet his. That’s when you see it.

The silence. The weight in his gaze. The way he’s not surprised. Not confused.

Your stomach twists.

“You read it,” you whisper.

Still, he says nothing and the panic crashes over you like a wave.

“Oh no—oh Merlin—okay, okay, I can explain—sort of, I think—I mean, not really, but I swear I wasn’t trying to be creepy or obsessive or anything weird like that, it’s just—I’ve had it for years and it’s stupid and sentimental and it was never meant to be read, not by you—not by anyone—and the poems? Those were a joke, a bad joke, and the dream stuff—well that was just me being overdramatic and half-asleep, and that thing about your voice? That was a metaphor that got wildly out of hand and not meant to sound like I was obsessed even though maybe it—okay, it did, but I was fifteen! And then I just kept writing, and I should have stopped, but I didn’t, because I couldn’t, because you were still—”

You don’t even see it coming. One second you’re mid-ramble, on the verge of hyperventilating—

The next, his hand is at your cheek and his mouth is on yours.

Your breath catches—a tiny, stunned sound escapes you, soft and startled against his lips.

And then your hands rise—unsure, trembling—and press lightly to his chest as you kiss him back.

It’s slow. Tender. Full of unspoken things. Not rushed, not hungry.

Just… true.

When he pulls away, his dark eyes meeting yours.

Your hands are still lightly pressed against his chest. You can feel the beat of his heart beneath your palms—calm, steady. Like yours is enough for both of you right now.

The room is quiet. The fire crackles in the hearth. You’re still holding your diary, but it doesn’t feel heavy anymore.

You try to speak. You open your mouth, something halfway between a gasp and a laugh rising in your chest, but—

Severus leans a fraction closer and murmurs, very softly, very fondly:

“You talk too much.”

Your breath catches and then you laugh. It’s shaky, bright, half-sob, half-joy.

“Do you blame me?” you whisper. “You read everything.”

“I did,” he says.

He tilts his head slightly, just enough to catch your eyes again. And you see it—the softness, finally uncovered. Not hidden. Not buried beneath sarcasm or shadow.

“I noticed you back then,” he says. “You were brilliant. Quiet. Stubborn. You never were scared of me and I really couldn't understand just what exactly what going on in your head when you looked at me.”

Your throat tightens.

“But when you came back,” he continues, voice gentler now, almost reverent, “you weren’t just the clever girl who stayed after class. You were this… calm, steady presence. Always lingering just long enough. Always close. And I—”

He pauses, then huffs a soft breath of a laugh.

“I thought I’d imagined it. That I was reading into your smiles. Your teasing. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t paying attention.”

Your voice is barely a whisper. “You were paying attention.”

His hand lifts to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Always.”

You’re both quiet for a beat. The silence isn’t tense. It’s full. Safe.

Then his eyes flick down to the diary still tucked between you.

“I do have to say some of those entries are very...intresting,” he says, utterly deadpan. “Poetic. A little dramatic. Especially the ones about detention.”

Your entire face goes hot.

“Oh my god—”

“I was flattered,” he says smoothly.

“You’re awful.”

“‘I believe the phrasing was 'the kind of tone that makes you want to misbehave again just to hear it'?”

You let out a strangled groan and bury your face against his shoulder, laughing and dying all at once.

He’s smiling now—actually smiling—and it’s everything you ever hoped for.

You feel his arms come around you slowly, gently, holding you close like he’s still not quite sure you’re real. Like he’s afraid letting go will send you back into his imagination.

You don’t pull away.

You press your lips to his again—softer this time, slower. He kisses you back without hesitation, like he’s spent a decade imagining this exact moment.

Your nose brushes his when you pull back, just enough to catch your breath.

He doesn't let go. Doesn’t step away.

Instead, his hand slips from your cheek to your fingers, curling gently around them—warm, steady, a wordless invitation.

He gives the lightest tug.

And you follow.

He leads you across the room in silence, the flicker of firelight dancing in your peripheral vision, until you reach the settee near the hearth. He sits first, his fingers still entwined with yours, and when he looks up at you—it’s not a question.

It’s home.

You sink down beside him, legs brushing his, heart still racing. And when he exhales, it’s like he’s been holding that breath for years.

You lean into him without thinking.

And he holds you like he’s never going to stop.

The fire burns low, casting golden light across the walls, across his face, across the place where your legs are tangled gently with his on the settee.

You’re both quiet now. Not because there’s nothing to say, but because the silence feels like part of him. Like something sacred.

His hand moves slowly against your arm, tracing soft, aimless patterns into your sleeve, as if he’s still memorizing the fact that you’re here—that you chose to be.

You lean into him just slightly. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, his hold around you deepens, anchoring you to his side like you’ve always belonged there.

Outside the castle walls, you hear the wind shift.

“I should probably go, it's getting quite late.” you murmur, not moving.

It isn’t a real suggestion. Not yet.

His hand stills. For a moment, he says nothing. Just breathes in the space between you. Then, so quietly it barely reaches above the crackle of the fire:

“Don’t.”

You look up.

His eyes are steady. Not guarded. Not questioning. Just sure.

You feel the ache in your chest swell, full and warm and impossibly tender.

“You want me to stay?” you ask, small, unsure.

He nods once, as if the thought of saying it aloud again might unravel something in him.

“Yes,” he says. Just that. “Stay.”

And somehow, that simple word undoes you more than any kiss. So you lean into him. You let yourself rest. You let your fingers curl over the hand he’s still holding against your arm.

“I will,” you whisper.

--

The study is quiet.

Only the ticking of the old brass clock on the mantel breaks the hush, its rhythm steady, grounding. The faint rustle of your quill glides across parchment—slow, deliberate, like your hand knows it’s writing an ending you’ll never rewrite.

Morning light spills through the tall windows in soft, golden waves. It warms the wood beneath your hands. Illuminates the leather cover of the book open before you.

Your diary.

The same one you’ve carried since you were fifteen.

There’s only one page left.

You breathe in slowly, steadying your hand. The ink is rich, even, but your heart stumbles with every word—not from nerves. No, not today.

But because it’s the last thing you’ll ever need to write.

You smile softly, and let the words come.

A knock breaks the stillness.

You turn, smile already forming.

Minerva peeks in, her eyes warm with affection. “They’re ready for you, dear.”

You nod, putting your quill away with careful fingers, brushing the cover like you’re saying goodbye to an old friend who kept all your secrets.

You rise.

And as you step into the sunlit corridor, your hand gently resting on her arm, your gown trailing behind you like moonlight on stone—

The room falls quiet once more. Behind you, the diary lies open on the desk, ink drying on the final page.

I never thought I’d reach the end of this book. I was fifteen when I started it. I wrote my heart into these pages—my secrets, my fears, my impossible hopes. All of it was him. And now, as I write this, Severus is downstairs—probably pacing, pretending he isn’t nervous. He’ll never admit it. But I know him too well by now. He kissed my shoulder this morning while pretending to look for his cufflinks. I think he just needed to touch me. I still can’t believe it’s real. That he read every word I ever wrote, and chose to stay. Today, he’ll choose me again and I’ll choose him, as I always have. I’m not writing this for closure. I’m writing it to say thank you. To the girl who never gave up. To the man who found his way to her. To the pages that held us until we were ready to hold each other. This is my last entry. The last words you will ever need to keep. I’m going to marry Severus Snape today. And I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life.

[yailtsv]

Paige Bueckers x reader and they wrap presents together for family/friends

Day 1

Gift Wrapping - p.b

Sum: trying to wrap presents with Paige

Warnings: fluff, teasing

Pair: Paige x gf!reader

Note: I feel like this is all over the place so I’m sorry about that 🥲

Wc: 531

My masterlist

“Paige oh my god stop it!” You shout at Paige as she throws another pre-made bow that you did, at you “Why? Where’s the fun in that?” Paige says while starting to make a paper airplane out of the wrapping paper scraps

“This isn’t a “have fun” thing! It’s a I need to get this done before the 25th thing! And it would be nice if you actually decided to help!” You scolded

Paige just laughed “Babe it’s the 20th! Relax, we have time.” You just glare at her “First if you tell me to relax again, I’m never speaking to you again. Second I have to wrap the presents, make the bows, and sign cards all before the 25th while also making multiple batches of cookies and making a few sides for both the 24th and the 25th.” You stress

Paige put her hands up in surrender “Alright I’m sorry, ok? I shouldn’t have told you to relax, and I should have been helping you instead of teasing you. What do you need me to do?” Paige said while she was walking towards you

“Tape those bows and cards to that pile of presents” you said while pointing to at least 10 presents. Paige lets out a breath and shakes her head while walking towards the pile “they’re all already on the present there supposed to be on, you just have to tape them.” You say while starting to go back to wrapping the one gift you have been working on for the last 25 minutes…thanks Paige.

“I got it, I got it, don’t worry. I’m the greatest bow tapper in the world babe. You can’t underestimate me” Paige said making you roll your eyes amusingly “sure, sure ‘greatest bow tapper in the world’ how could I have ever underestimated you?” You say sarcastically tapping one of the flaps on the side down

“I don’t know but it was a big mistake” Paige says dramatically tapping the bow and card down on one present and lifting it up “taaa-daaaa” she practically sings “you didn’t tape the side, the bows falling off.” You teased her, she immediately brings it back down and looks at every side seeing that she in fact didn’t tape one of them. “It’s supposed to be like that.” Paige says confidently while slowly reaching for the tape next to her “uh-huh, is that why you’re reaching for the tape?” You say barely even looking up at her - completely focused on wrapping the next gift.

“I’m not, what are you talking about?” She says while quietly not getting a piece of tape and putting it on the bow to make it stay “you can’t gaslight me Paige. It’s not working.” You say while she starts tapping the bow and card onto the next present “I don’t know what your talking about” she says confidently making you just roll your eyes and keep wrapping presents while she keeps tapping bows on them

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[10:04 pm]

(cw: f!reader, side characters are inebriated)

Frat!Jaehyun stared at his phone expectantly. You were late. 28 minutes and some seconds late to the party you had told him just earlier that day that you'd come to. The crowd of party goers was getting thicker, the air was getting hotter, and people were getting more and more unbearable. Even though the party had only started about an hour ago, he could could count on both hands the amount of times he'd already been offered a drink, but he denied them every time. He wanted to be clear and level headed for when you would soon text him that you were at the entrance and wanted to find him.

But another 15 minutes passed and he had still heard nothing from you. His calls went to voicemail, his texts were unanswered, and there was radio silence on your end. He was getting restless, had he done something to annoy you? He didn't think he did, but maybe when you offered him a drink of your coffee earlier he had taken too much. But that wouldn't justify you ignoring him.

He pulled away from the wall in search of familiar faces to ask if anyone had seen you. Taeyong, Mark, Johnny, and Doyoung all answered no. Yuta yelled over the music, "It's crazy packed in here, she'll find you! Want a drink?"

Jaehyun shook his head angrily, "She hasn't answered any of my texts, I'm getting worried."

Taeyong took note of the concerned look on Jaehyun's face and leaned in to tell Jaehyun, "I saw her roommate outside not too long ago, you should ask her."

Jaehyun nodded, quickly making his way outside to catch sight of your roommate. She was clearly tipsy but was able to tell Jaehyun that you were ready for the party when you got a huge headache and decided to stay in. He thanked her profusely before fighting his way through the thick crowd to the front door.

"Bro! Where are you going?" Mark yelled.

"She's sick in her dorm, I'm going to run by a pharmacy and get her some medicine and stuff," Jaehyun answered.

"But you're Social Chair, man. You can't leave!" A drunk Haechan whined.

"I have bigger responsibilities, get him some water before he puts another bathroom out of commission for the night. I'll be back tomorrow," Jaehyun firmly told Mark.

Jaehyun was running quickly to your dorm after he stopped by the pharmacy. He flashed the RA a quick smile and quickly pulled out his student ID. "I'm glad you're here," she told him as she led him to your room, "poor thing, her roommate told me she'd never seen her this poorly."

Jaehyun's nervousness heightened, he gave the RA a quick thanks as he slid into your dorm. He left his shoes at the door and padded to your room quietly. He pushed the door open as gently as he could, only to catch sight of you buried under you blankets and pillows with soft only sniffles heard.

"Baby?" He questioned quietly, making his way to the edge of your bed.

"Jaehyun?" Came your weak response.

"My love, why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He cooed softly.

You whined, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "you had a party you were so excited about. It hit me so suddenly, I just came to bed. I don't even know where I left my phone."

He shook his head with a sigh, he pulled the pills out from the pharmacy bag and dropped two into one of your hands and a gatorade in the other hand, "take these while I look for it."

He moved around your room quietly, folding the clothes you had no doubt left on the floor in your rush to get to the party, putting away shoes and searching your desk- no phone. He stepped into the bathroom finding it beside an open bottle of eyelash glue and one false eyelash.

Jaehyun placed your phone on your bedside table and slid into bed with you, pulling you into his hold and letting you rest your head on his chest. "You know I care more about you than some stupid party right?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his chest, "You were excited about this one, though."

He chuckled softly, running his hand down your back comfortingly, "I was excited because you were excited to surprise me with your outfit, my love."

You nuzzled into his chest, squeezing your arms around his waist, "thank you for taking care of me Jaehyun."

"I'd do anything for you," he stated softly.

You were drifting to sleep, your eyes struggling to stay open, "Can you change next time, so you don't smell like a frat house though?"

He rolled his eyes, you were going to be better in no time.