#Advanced Flow Controls

[advancedflowcontrols]

How Advanced Flow Controls Ensures Quality in Every Pump Solution

In today’s fast-paced industrial world, quality and reliability are non-negotiable. From oil and gas operations to water treatment facilities, businesses across the UAE demand pump solutions that perform flawlessly under pressure. That’s where Advanced Flow Controls, one of the most trusted pump suppliers in UAE, steps in.

Strategically based in Abu Dhabi, Advanced Flow Controls delivers cutting-edge pump technologies and tailored engineering services—ensuring every solution is built to last and designed for performance.

A Legacy of Excellence in Pump Solutions

With over 30 years of experience, Advanced Flow Controls has earned its place as a leader in pump technology. From the outset, the company has focused on high-quality engineering, strategic partnerships, and advanced manufacturing processes. Their strong foothold in industries like oil & gas, marine, construction, aviation, and water treatment proves their unmatched reliability.

Every product is backed by ISO-certified quality systems, which means you’re not just getting a pump—you’re getting a promise of performance.

Customized Engineering for Every Industry

No two pumping needs are the same—and Advanced Flow Controls understands that.

Their team of in-house engineers in Abu Dhabi works closely with clients to design, assemble, and install custom pump systems that meet specific operational requirements. Whether you need centrifugal, metering, or submersible pumps, each solution is tailored to ensure efficiency, durability, and safety in your application.

End-to-End Service You Can Trust

What sets Advanced Flow Controls apart is their full-service approach:

Technical Consultation: Expert advice from the first discussion.

Design & Fabrication: Customized builds using 3D design and simulation tools.

On-Site Support: Field engineers available for installation, troubleshooting, and audits.

Preventive Maintenance: Planned services to reduce downtime and extend lifespan.

Quick Response Repairs: Timely diagnostics and repairs when needed most.

All these services are accessible across the UAE, thanks to their central location in Abu Dhabi.

Leading Pump Suppliers in the UAE

Advanced Flow Controls is not just another name in the market—they are a leading pump suppliers in UAE trusted by Fortune 500 companies, government entities, and high-demand industrial sectors.

Their focus on using only high-grade materials, implementing strict testing procedures, and partnering with world-class brands ensures each solution is robust, efficient, and long-lasting.

Looking Ahead: Innovation Meets Reliability

At the heart of AFC’s operations is a strong drive toward innovation. They continually update their product line and service capabilities to match evolving industry demands, including:

Energy-efficient pumping systems

Digitally monitored performance tools

Green technology integration

This forward-thinking mindset is why so many businesses in Abu Dhabi and across the UAE trust them as their go-to pump solution provider.

 Final Thoughts When you choose Advanced Flow Controls, you’re not just investing in a product—you’re securing peace of mind. With decades of expertise, unmatched service quality, and a deep commitment to excellence, AFC ensures every pump solution supports your success

[videoworm]

The curse of being the spontaneous person surrounded by planners.

[emergencyplumbingil]

Smart Sinks and Faucets : What Are They, and Why Do You Need One?

A Happy Customer’s Smart Kitchen Transformation One of our customers in Highland Park recently decided to upgrade their kitchen with a state-of-the-art smart faucet . They wanted a solution that combined modern convenience with eco-friendly features. After reaching out to Emergency Plumbing, they scheduled a quick appointment with one of our licensed plumbers, who immediately got to work. The installation process was seamless. Our professional plumber took the time to answer all the customer’s questions, explaining how the smart sink would reduce water waste and make everyday tasks more convenient.

Why Choose a Smart Faucet?

Smart faucets and sinks are designed to offer both style and practicality. Here’s what makes them a game-changer:

Enhanced Functionality: Touchless controls, built-in water filtration, and temperature sensors make everyday tasks easier and more hygienic.

Eco-Friendly Features: Save water and reduce waste with advanced flow controls.

Modern Aesthetic :A sleek design upgrades the overall look of your kitchen.

Whether you live in Highland Park, Deerfield, Northbrook, or other Northwest suburbs, our team of local licensed plumbers can help you choose and install the perfect smart sink for your needs.

What Makes Emergency Plumbing the Best Choice?

At Emergency Plumbing, we’re proud to serve customers across the North Shore and Northwest suburbs with top-quality service.

Transform Your Kitchen Today.

[techdriveplay]

Achieving Zen in Snowboarding

In the world of winter sports, snowboarding stands out as a vibrant blend of adrenaline, freedom, and creativity. Yet, beyond the exhilarating jumps and sharp turns lies a deeper, more introspective layer to this beloved sport: achieving Zen in snowboarding. This concept transcends the physical aspects of snowboarding, inviting riders into a state of profound mindfulness and connection with the…

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Awards Show 

This isn’t a prompt or request (they’re still closed for now). This is just a self indulgent little scene that turned into a 3k fic. Bit more intimacy/sensual themes than my usual, but still has all my fav tropes :) Hope people enjoy this one x

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to show you off to my friends and colleagues at the company awards dinner. This may have been the biggest you’d ever gotten during any of your pregnancies; your tight firm belly was a beach ball beneath your maroon silk dress, hanging low and heavy on your hips. My hand wrapped around your waist and squeezed your hip affectionately as we mingled through the crowd. With a champagne glass in hand you smiled and laughed at the joke my boss made. 

“You look ready to pop my dear. You better not steal the show tonight by going into labour” The CEO had said with a grin, looking in awe at your incredible size. 

We both laughed, my hand moving up and down your lower back. If only he knew.

Your contractions had started this afternoon, the slow gentle tightening of your womb signalling our baby’s readiness to come into the world. But even with your contractions, we still put our black tie outfits on and went out this evening to the company awards show. You knew it was important to me and my career. Plus, neither of us could deny the thrill of having to ride out your contractions in such a public setting. 

“How are you doing darling?” I whispered in your ear after my boss and CEO walked away. 

“Mmmm… okay…. They’re getting a little stronger now though.” You said with a breathy moan, your hand naturally moving across the underside of your belly, rubbing the taut skin through the silk fabric of your dress. 

“Let’s quickly pop into the bathroom before we take our seats. I can check to see how you’re progressing.”  

With my hand around your waist I felt how much more you were waddling, a sign of how low the baby was sitting in the bowl of your pelvis. I squeezed your hip and took a long breath to try and control myself. 

In the single occupancy bathroom I quickly locked the door behind us. You found your way to the sink and braced against the bathroom counter, swaying your hips through another contraction. I growled at the sight, seeing you so gravid and fertile, your body doing something so powerful and natural. 

“You look incredible, my love.” I stood behind you, pressing my body against your backside and wrapping my arms around you to feel the firm and hard skin of your belly as it contracted. A low moan came from your lips as the wave reached its peak and I bent forward, my chest to your back, whispering in your ear to breathe. 

When the contraction had passed, I pulled up the fabric of your maroon silk dress, slowly up your thighs until I reached my destination. You moaned as I slipped my fingers inside, deep but gentle, knowing how sensitive you were during labour. 

“Wow darling…. You’re already at 7cm.” My words were thick with desire in your ear. “Do you think you can hold on for the rest of the evening?” 

You smiled at me through the reflection of the mirror, grinning with excitement. 

We made our way out the bathroom and found our seats for the dinner and awards ceremony. I could feel your breathing was heavier, your movements were slower, and I beamed with pride at how well you were doing. Everyone was in awe of your attendance this evening, being so advanced in your pregnancy, and yet nobody knew just how close you were to not being pregnant anymore. 

Our seats were in the middle of the hall, on a large round table with nearly a dozen other people. Some colleagues I knew, others I didn’t, all with their partners or spouses. Music was playing, waiters were bringing food to tables, drinks were flowing, the room was soon filled with conversation and laughter as people got progressively more drunk. All the while you sat beautifully beside me, joining in discussions and smiling brightly. My gorgeous wife, heavily pregnant, and secretly in active labour. 

Two courses into our meal you started to hum quietly beside me, shifting in your seat. My hand found your thigh, my thumb rubbing soothing motions across your leg over the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re doing great darling, just breathe through them. Not long now.” I purred in your ear, knowing that wasn’t true. The awards had just commenced, my boss and CEO taking the stage to begin proceedings, and like all previous company dinners I knew it would be a long evening. 

Contraction after contraction wracked your body, but you showed no obvious signs of discomfort. You’d gone a little quieter perhaps but your smile remained bright to everyone around us. Every now and then throughout the evening the room would erupt in obligatory applause as someone was granted an award or achievement from the company. During one of these moments my ears pricked, attuned to your sounds, and I heard a low moan slip from your parted lips. 

My arm wrapped around your shoulders, leaning in close, my breath caressing your neck. “Darling…. You okay?” I asked, concerned but unbelievably aroused. 

“Nngh… baby feels so low…” you whispered, spreading your legs a little under the table. 

I shivered, stuttering slightly with a husky voice “D-Do you need to push?” 

“N-no…. I’m okay just…. A lot of pressure—oooof” 

I kissed the side of your cheek affectionately, my hand still wrapped around your shoulders while the other squeezed your thigh. “You’re doing brilliantly, my love. Just keep breathing through them.” I shifted in my seat to hide my obvious arousal. The idea that you might start pushing right here in this venue was almost too much to bear. I took a long sip of my drink and focused back on the stage to distract myself. 

Half way through the awards, after all the food had been consumed leaving dessert plates and empty wine bottles littering the table, you suddenly reached out and gripped my thigh squeezing tight. I looked over to you with a mix of concern and excitement. You had slumped slightly in your seat, spreading your legs wider under the table and tilting your hips up, your breasts and belly rising and falling with your rapid breathing. 

“Breathe…. Breathe through it darling, we’re almost there.” I encouraged softly, my hand moving to rest upon your heavy belly sitting between your spread thighs, feeling the rock hard muscles beneath my fingers. You grunted a little, a sound I recognised, and my eyes nearly came out their sockets. 

“Don’t push darling… you need to hold it a little longer okay.” I tried to soothe you, but my heart was thumping in my chest and my insides were coiling with unbridled excitement. 

“M-my— waters—” you croaked, relaxing after the intense contraction. 

I looked down; from above your dress looked completely dry but when I felt underneath the top layer I felt the liquid that was now dripping down your inner thighs and onto the floor. Quickly grabbing my fabric napkin and yours, I dropped them under the table, putting one between your legs and the other on the floor to soak up the worst of it. 

“Shhhh… you’re okay my love. Looks like it’s nearly time, baby wants to meet us.” My hand moved possessively over your belly, my smile wide and beaming with pride. You smiled, your cheeks flushed a little, leaning closer to kiss me softly. 

“Can we go now?” You asked quietly, and I noticed the light sheen of sweat on your forehead. 

“Yes darling, you’ve done wonderfully. Let’s go and meet our new baby—”

Then my name very loudly echoed across the hall and all eyes were focused in our direction. The award. Shit. My boss was standing on stage, crystal award in hand, and everyone began to clap. 

“Damn— I erm— do I go—” my words fumbled from my mouth as I looked between you and the stage. You were absolutely full to the brim with our baby, so close to delivering…. But staying would mean you would have to hold on a little bit longer, and that thought sent a shiver up my spine. 

“Go sweetheart, go get your award.” You said affectionately, putting a hand on my cheek. 

“Are you sure? You’re incredible.” I kissed your lips, both of us basqued under a spotlight from the venue, and then I walked quickly up to the stage to receive my award. 

Looking out across the crowd my eyes were focused only on you. Sitting proudly at our table, your eyes beamed with joy as you clapped along with the rest of the room. Clearing my throat, trying to regain professional composure, I began my speech. Your eyes glistened with affection and pride, hanging onto my every word even though you had heard me practice this over and over again. 

Then I noticed a change in you, barely perceptible to anyone else but I knew your body better than my own. You tensed, your smiling expression now forced, and you had one hand gripping the edge of the table while the other moved to the underside of your belly. Fumbling my words I was utterly distracted watching you in the middle of the crowd, secretly riding out what looked like an intense contraction. I was in awe of you, still smiling and beaming with pride, while your body squeezed and contracted and opened for our baby. You’d never looked more beautiful. 

I regurgitated my well rehearsed speech, looking only at you, as if the rest of the room no longer existed. Your full and swollen bosom was rising and falling rapidly atop your large, firm belly, and you seemed to be panting silently through the wave. Minutes passed and contraction wasn’t letting you go, I was still talking and you were still squirming in your chair. I watched as you grit your teeth, gripping the sides of your chair and spreading your legs wider under the table. Your demeanor shifted, something had changed. I could see your jaw clamped, teeth almost bared, and your face was contorted with effort— 

Holy shit you were pushing!!! 

I gripped the podium in front of me, my hips twitching, the sight of you pushing nearly throwing me over the edge of ecstasy. Clearing my throat, I managed to continue my speech, all the while I watched you instinctively push right there in the middle of this formal event. I smirked as I got towards the end, where I very publicly thanked my beautiful pregnant wife. All eyes across the venue suddenly turned in your direction. I didn’t know what you’d do, whether you’d admit defeat and acknowledge your labour, or if you’d continued to hide the fact you were uncontrollably pushing…. 

To my surprise, your face broke into a wide gleeful grin as you waved at me on stage and blew a kiss across the room, amazingly keeping up appearances. But your legs were wide under the table, I could see from this position up on the stage just how far apart they’d spread. Was our baby crowning underneath that silk dress of yours? How close were they to coming out? How long could you keep up pretences before nature took full control?… 

I practically skipped off the stage back towards our table, the room clapping with obligatory applause. 

“You’re pushing.” I whispered in your ear as I bent down to kiss your cheek. 

“Mmmmh— couldn’t help it—” you growled a reply, equally as quiet but heavy with effort. 

“We can’t leave right now, everyone will be watching us.” I sat down in my chair beside you, slipping my arm around you and pulling you closer into an embrace. 

“I— I know—” you were panting, legs spread under the table, your hand gripping my thigh and digging your nails in. 

“How much longer can you hold on darling? How close is the baby?” My words were thick with excitement. 

“Baby… is low… but I don’t think… they’re crowning yet…. But-unhhhhhhhhhh-I can’t stop pushing—”

“Shhhhh… you’re doing brilliantly my love. If you can, try little pushes for now. We don’t know if you’re fully dilated and we don’t want you to tear.” I cooed, stroking your thigh that was spread open right against mine. 

As the next award was announced, I heard you grunting during the applause. You said the baby wasn’t crowning but those sounds you were making, your subtle movements, were all too familiar to me. We certainly weren’t going to make it home for this birth, and I doubted if we’d even make it to the car. And yet you gave me no signs of wanting to move, staring blankly up at the stage as your chest heaved and your belly contracted, silently pushing our baby closer to this world. 

“You’re doing wonderful darling, so incredible. Keep doing what your body tells you—”

“— I can feel the head—” you suddenly blurted out, twitching on your seat and pulling your legs together with an obvious grimace. 

“Let’s go, now while everyone’s distracted.” I put my arms around you, helping you out of your chair. You were trembling. 

“Mmmmmgh— it feels like the baby is gonna fall out—” you moaned under your breath, cradling your belly as you rose to your feet. 

I laughed a little, supporting your hips. “It’s not going to fall out sweetheart, you’ve got a lot more pushing to go yet.” I purred in your ear as I led you out the dinner hall, your legs were unsteady and your gait was obscenely wide. I had no idea what was going on under your clothing, how close the baby was to being born, which only made this whole situation all the more thrilling. 

Beyond the doors of the formal company dinner, the moan that came from your mouth was deep and guttural as you stopped to brace against a nearby wall. Palms to the flat surface your hips jerked backwards against me as you bore down uncontrollably. 

“Nnnnnghhh— ohhhhhh I can feel the head— starting to come out—”

I rubbed your back and hips, squeezing and providing counter pressure that I knew you’d need. “Try not to push too hard babe… we need to get you back to the car…” 

Realising the corridor was empty, all guests inside the dinner hall, I slipped a hand under the silk fabric of your dress climbing up your inner thigh to feel your progress. I didn’t even make it to your entrance as I felt the distinct bulge of your underwear, the head nestled so low it was pushing against your lower lips. 

“Oh fuck babe…. The head is right there…” I groaned, fingers running across the damp fabric of your cotton underwear. 

“Nnnnnghh— I know— I can feel it— trying to come out—” you huffed, your fingers curling against the wall as your body continued to bear down without your permission. 

“Hold on a bit longer— we need to get you to the car.” I tried to plead with you but I knew you were not the one in control here. We were at the mercy of Mother Nature. We played a dangerous game and I just hoped I could get you somewhere private. 

“I don’t know if I can make it—”

“What do you need darling? What do you want to do?” I groaned into your ear, my body flushed behind you, my hands still under your dress between your legs. 

“Nnnnghh— hold it in— while I push—” you spluttered as you widened your stance, preparing for another push.

My hand moved, cupping your womanhood with my palm. “I’ve got you baby— do what you need to do—” I could barely contain my excitement at what was happening. My body tensed in time with yours and I felt the bulge against my palm grow as you pushed, the first sliver of our baby starting to part you from within. 

“Keep going, my love, I won’t let them come out too fast.” 

Your sounds were deep and gravelled and primal, but not loud enough to draw the attention of anyone inside the venue. One… two… three grunting pushes against my palm and the baby hadn’t made much progress. Thankfully. 

“Ohhhh— okay— it’s passed—” you croaked, pushing yourself away from the wall and catching your breath. 

“Are you ready to try walking to the car again?” My hand moved up and down your lower back affectionately, keeping you supported. 

You nodded, running a hand over the full swell of your belly. “Yes, let’s keep moving. But we need to go slow… the head is right there, just inside of me.” 

Growling at your statement, I wrapped my arm around your waist to support you as we both walked slowly down the corridor. “I know darling, it’s really close. Our little one is very eager to meet us.” I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, looking down at you with that full belly, your bow-legged walk, on the cusp of giving birth at any moment. 

We made it out of the venue but on the steps out the front of the building you abruptly stopped and grabbed the railing, bending your knees and grunting with an uncontrollable push. 

“Oh darling…” I quickly moved my hands to your hips to support you as your body bore down instinctively. “This one really is in a hurry. Just go with it, but we need to get you to the car soon.” 

You shuddered and almost mooed with the effort of your push, your body taking full control in this moment in a desperate bid to expel our baby from your womb. Over and over again you pushed. I couldn’t move my hands to check your progress, they were supporting all your weight at this moment. We were halfway down the steps outside the venue and nowhere near our car, a far cry from the privacy I wanted for our child’s birth. 

You grunted with each push, the sound sending all the blood in my body to my crotch. I knew from our previous births just how hard you were pushing, knowing the baby was probably slipping forward and back under your dress with each push. “Sweetheart…. Are we going to make it back to the car?” I asked nervously, feeling your knees bend a little more, your hips lowering slightly. 

“Nnnnnghhh—don’t know— it’s definitely— starting to c-c-c-crown—!” You groaned between pushes. 

When the contraction finished you were gasping for air as you twisted from the railing and sagged into my arms. “My…. My knickers… seem to be keeping the baby… from coming out….” Your voice was a caressed whisper against my chest. 

“You’re doing amazing, my love. You’re an incredible goddess.” I said, kissing the top of your head and holding you and your swollen belly against me. “Do you want to keep going? Or are we having this baby right here?” 

The look you gave me was filled with both pleasure and pain, your eyes glistening with dark enjoyment. “Let’s— keep going— I can hold them in….” 

I took this moment between contractions to feel your progress, my hands running from you hip down your leg and up under your dress. Your body shivered when I reached the apex of your thighs. 

“Are you sure about that, my love?” I asked with a teasing arch of my eyebrows as my fingers brushed over your underwear. “That’s not just you I can feel…. The baby’s head is really starting to crown.” 

“I- I know—” your words were breathy and husky, and I could tell you were feeling extremely full right now. 

“And you think you can walk all the way across the car park with a baby between your legs?” My fingers gently stroked circles on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You nodded, but your face grimaced with another contraction and you started to pant against my chest, squeezing my shoulders. 

“You want to push again, don’t you sweetheart?” 

You nodded against me. 

“But you don’t want to give birth right here?” 

You shook your head. 

My hand then moved back over the partially crowned head in your underwear, cupping the sphere and holding it in place.

“Shhh… it’s okay I got you. Push baby…. You can push now….” I growled into your ear as I wrapped my arm around your waist while the other was cupped between your legs. “Push right against my hand— that’s it— I’ll keep you from crowning fully…” 

It felt like your entire body was quaking against me as you submitted to your body’s instincts and bore down right against my palm. The sounds you made were animalistic and feral, it was music to my ears. You pushed for another minute and a half, with each one I could feel the pressure from the baby’s head pressing more and more against my palm. Eventually you were released from the contraction, breathing heavily and barely able to stand. 

“Let’s…go….before…the…next one…comes…” you whispered, exhausted but clearly aroused. 

Together we walked slowly across the carpark, our car seemed like a mirage in the distance, but you were determined and I was more than happy to comply. I wondered how many times we would have to stop on the way, how many times I would need to cup your bulging lips, so you could have the birth you wanted in the comfort of our car. 

[creati-bunny]

ACTOR! GOJO SATORU SEETHES IN JEALOUSY WHILE HE WATCHES YOU PASSIONATELY MAKEOUT WITH ACTOR! GETO SUGURU. It was making him batshit crazy when he read the script and found out that a scene where you and Suguru have to make out for the plot; an innocent cuddle session with your best friend—leading to a supposed sex scene. Satoru has never felt so furious that he has no control over the flow of the plot; he is the main lead, so why does Suguru get the best part?

It was never his intention to fall in love with you, his co-actress. Although you were one of the beauties, it was your aloof attitude that he became smitten with. Many of his co-actors and actresses knew that Satoru tended to have casual flirtations with them—leading to them hooking up with him and even stupidly falling for him; you were not an exception to his advances.

Except this time, it was him who fell for you. Satoru became obsessed with the thought of him chasing you. How would you know about his true damn feelings when he keeps them a secret, acting as if one glance from you will not melt him into a puddle?

“Nngh..”

You let out a muffled pleased moan, your arms wrap around Suguru’s neck while both of your lips are connected to each other. The loud smacking and exchanging of saliva can heavily be heard by everyone with how close the mic is. The vein on Satoru’s neck twitched, glaring at the scene with despise. His vibrant blue eyes bore holes into the sly hands of Suguru’s, which are already fondling the soft skin of your waist. The grip on his water bottle tightened immensely, seeing how the steamy makeout session progressively becomes hotter—Suguru’s hands are dragging you towards the bedroom, his lips attaching to the sensitive pulse point of your neck.

“Beautiful..”

Damn right, you are.

Suguru takes off his shirt, your eyes scanning over his toned body; you licked your lower lip, before your eyes meet his gorgeous purple ones. Your makeout session quickly turned steamier—letting Suguru’s hands take off your clothes, revealing your lacy black bra and panties that made Suguru’s eyes roll back with how sexy you look. Both of you were not following the script anymore, letting the two of you just be with the flow of the scene.

Suguru does not know how lucky he is, Satoru thinks. Breaking down the aloof facade of the actress he is sweet on is one of the goals Satoru needs to succeed in his life. He is supposed to be the one pleasuring you, already forgetting the fact that you two are only acting.

The veins on Satoru’s forehead became visible and twitching, watching how Suguru drags his tongue over your sternum down to your stomach and even lower, making you enclose your thighs around his head. The angle of the camera cannot capture the moment after Suguru takes off your panties and kisses your inner thighs—the lower parts of your bodies were hidden by a blanket, just right enough to cover your lower stomach; the scene giving an impression that Suguru is giving you head. With how you tug his hair, and your hips were bucking up while his thick fingers grip your thighs firmly, Suguru is having way too much fun in smelling your cunt and leaving a mark in your right inner thigh—which he is not supposed to do; but shit, you are too damn good at this.

Satoru gulps the saliva down his throat, seeing Suguru unclasp your bra, revealing your breasts—fuck, they are gorgeous. Your nipples are perked up, and he hopes it is due to the cool air of the scenery, not because you were fucking turned on by Suguru’s humping. Satoru crosses his legs, acting pissy while trying to hide the growing problem in his pants.

When Suguru’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, you bite your lip to muffle your delicious whimpers, secretly getting turned on with how good he can make you feel—Satoru cannot fathom the way his cheeks are heating up, the infuriating constriction of his briefs around his dick increased as he fully became hard; you did not care about the eyes watching you two pretend to have sex, when in fact, you can feel Suguru’s intention to make this real. He drags his lips over your ear, whispering something that does not reach the mic.

“I want you…”

Suguru pressed his lips against yours before his hips made a circular grinding motion, making you let out a shaky breath at the friction. The two of you were already humping, grinding—acting as if Suguru was already thrusting his cock inside you; you let out a gasp, feeling his clothed cock harden, desperate to make his way inside your pussy. Suguru’s hands were enclosed with yours; he looked at you with a lazy, handsome smirk, knowing you could feel his boner brushing against your pussy lips; god, why did he take off your panties? What’s more, he was not wearing a genital guard. His bulge brushes against the evidence of your arousal, his briefs were not enough to conceal its girth; it did not help that it arouses you even further. Suguru bit his lip, a sultry groan was threatening its way out of his mouth—as you’re not the only one who is feeling good.

Satoru tries to control himself from whipping his dick out and rubbing himself. Your moans sound too breathy and realistic for it to be acting; with the unscripted sweat forming on your forehead and Suguru’s, he felt enraged knowing what was going on was real. He gritted his teeth in jealousy, oh how he wished to punch the lucky bastard in the face.

The climax hits, as both you and Suguru let out moans and groans, signaling that both of you have reached your orgasm. However, Suguru did not stop; he attaches his lips once again over yours, prodding his tongue inside your mouth—his hands make their way over to your waist, one of his hands itch to get a feel of your pussy. His eyes glinted in amusement, feeling the wet texture of your pussy lips meet his fingers; you let out a whine, feeling embarrassed when his thumb brushes against your clit once.

Oh, he will have fun with you and Satoru later.

“Cut!”

image is by sugu_ruu_ on X

[elikajinnie]

Hate Is A Strong Word - N.R

P: Slytherin!Ni-ki X fem!reader

Synopsis: You never imagined that the picture perfect Slytherin would like you

Warnings?: Fluff, Misunderstandings, bullying (not from N-ki). Insecurities.

a/n: So this is the start of my Hogwarts au for each of the members. Ni-ki is the first one out! :D The next one will be Jake!

masterlist

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As the heavy oak doors of the Transfiguration classroom creaked open, you walked in alongside your friend Leeseo. The room, illuminated by large arched windows that allowed beams of sunlight to dance across the stone floor, was already buzzing with the chatter of students.

Leeseo nudged you gently, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I heard today’s lesson is going to be something really challenging,” she whispered, her excitement barely contained. You nodded, sharing her eagerness. Transfiguration was one of the most fascinating subjects at Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall’s classes were always a blend of rigorous discipline and awe-inspiring magic.

As you took your seats, you glanced toward the front of the classroom. There, standing tall and composed by the blackboard, was Professor McGonagall. Her stern yet kind eyes surveyed the room, ensuring everyone was settled. With her wand in hand, she exuded an air of authority and wisdom, her emerald robes flowing gracefully around her.

The murmurs gradually subsided as McGonagall stepped forward, her presence commanding your attention. “Good morning, class,” she began, her voice clear and steady. “Today, we will be advancing to human transfiguration, a complex and delicate branch of magic that requires utmost precision and concentration.”

The mention of human transfiguration sent a ripple of excitement and nervousness through the room. You exchanged a quick, thrilled glance with Leeseo. This was the kind of magic that defined wizardry, the intricate spells that transformed the very essence of matter.

Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, and the blackboard behind her filled with neat, precise instructions and diagrams. “Now, before we begin, I must remind you of the importance of practice and control. Improper transfiguration can have… unintended consequences.” Her eyes swept the room, emphasizing the seriousness of her words.

With a final nod of understanding, you prepared your wand and opened your textbook to the designated chapter.

After Transfiguration, your day continued with a series of classes, each filled with the usual hustle and bustle of student life at Hogwarts. Charms was lively as always, with Professor Flitwick’s enthusiastic instruction keeping everyone engaged. Herbology followed, where you worked in the greenhouse, learning about magical plants and their properties.

As the day wore on, you eventually made your way to the dungeon for Potions class. The air grew cooler and the corridors darker as you descended, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You and Leeseo entered the dimly lit classroom, settling into your usual seats near the middle. Around you, your classmates were chatting in low tones, the anticipation palpable.

The door swung open with a dramatic flair, and Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. The room fell silent instantly, every student turning their attention to the formidable Potions Master. Snape’s presence commanded a certain respect—or perhaps fear—that was undeniable.

“Today,” Snape began, his voice a silky drawl that carried a hint of menace, “you will brew a Veritaserum.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the class. “A truth potion, which when correctly brewed, will compel the drinker to reveal their innermost secrets.”

He moved to the front of the classroom, where a cauldron was already simmering. With precise, deliberate movements, he began demonstrating the brewing process, adding ingredients with a practiced ease. His every action was fluid, almost mesmerizing, and you found yourself taking meticulous notes, your eyes darting between the instructions in the textbook and Snape’s methodical demonstration.

“Take care to follow the instructions exactly,” Snape intoned, his dark eyes sweeping the room. “Any deviation could render the potion useless… or worse.”

He finished his demonstration and stepped back, crossing his arms. “I have set up each of you with a partner, so I expect you all to work together,” he announced. The room buzzed with curiosity as you waited for your name to be called.

One by one, Snape called out the pairings. Leeseo was partnered with a Gryffindor student, and soon your name came up. “You will be working with Nishimura Ni-ki,” Snape declared.

You glanced over at Ni-ki, a Slytherin student known for his cunning nature and sharp intellect. Your eyes met briefly before he stood up and walked toward you, his expression neutral. He took the seat beside you, and for a moment, you simply looked at each other, assessing.

“Shall I cut and you brew?” Ni-ki asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded in agreement. “That sounds good.”

With a silent understanding, you both began your task. Ni-ki’s hands moved deftly, slicing ingredients with precision and efficiency, while you focused on the careful process of brewing, ensuring each step was followed meticulously. Though you didn’t converse much, there was an unspoken coordination between you, a shared goal that drove your efforts.

The potion started to take shape, its color gradually shifting as you added each ingredient in turn. Ni-ki’s sharp observations and quick corrections were invaluable, and you found yourself appreciating his expertise despite your limited interactions.

As the final stages approached, the potion glowed a soft, silvery hue, indicating you were on the right track. Snape prowled the classroom, occasionally stopping to observe or comment on various pairs’ progress. When he reached your desk, he paused, scrutinizing your work with his usual critical eye.

“Acceptable,” he murmured, giving a slight nod before moving on. It was high praise coming from Snape, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

After you and Ni-ki finished brewing the Veritaserum, you let out a quiet sigh of relief and settled back into your seat. The potion simmered gently, its translucent glow a sign of your successful collaboration. With the class winding down, you pulled out your notebook and began doodling absentmindedly, your mind drifting.

Ni-ki, meanwhile, was meticulously sorting out the remaining ingredients. You stole a quick glance at him, curiosity getting the better of you. His recently dyed light hair hung in front of his eyes, accentuating his piercing stare. Despite his cold demeanor, there was an undeniable intensity in his gaze that seemed to see right through people. His robes fit him perfectly, the black fabric contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. The Slytherin badge, neatly stitched into his robes, was complemented by the prefect badge pinned just beside it, a testament to his standing and discipline.

You had to admit, even if only to yourself, that Ni-ki looked good. There was something striking about him, an aura that was hard to ignore. But you would never voice this thought out loud. You admired him quietly, keeping your appreciation to yourself. Despite his coldness, he wasn’t like some of his fellow Slytherins who resorted to bullying and teasing. No, his crime was different—he was aloof, detached, and seemingly emotionless. He was an enigma, always keeping to himself and his close-knit group of peers.

As you doodled, you found your thoughts wandering. What was Ni-ki hiding behind that expressionless face? What would it be like to see him smile, to see his features soften with joy? Did he ever feel sadness, and if so, did he let himself cry? These questions swirled in your mind, each one deepening the mystery that was Ni-ki.

Before you could ponder further, the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor signaled the end of class. Snape’s curt dismissal barely registered as you blinked, realizing how lost in thought you had become. You looked up to find that Ni-ki had already stood up and left, leaving behind a spotless workstation. The ingredients were neatly put away, the table wiped clean. In your daydreaming, you hadn’t even noticed him tidying up.

As you left the Potions classroom, the dark and cool dungeons faded behind you, but your thoughts lingered on Ni-ki. You shook your head, trying to clear the lingering questions that kept popping up about him. It wasn’t like you cared—he was distant and cold. But the fact that he cleaned up without saying a word or asking for acknowledgment—it was almost… considerate. Strange for someone like him.

You walked down the stone corridor, heading toward the next class with Leeseo catching up to you. “How was it working with Ni-ki?” she asked, her voice light and curious.

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “He’s efficient. Doesn’t talk much.”

Leeseo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Efficient? That’s not the word I expected you to use.” She grinned playfully, nudging you. “You didn’t bicker, did you?”

You rolled your eyes. “We didn’t even speak much, to be honest. He just… does his part and leaves. Not much else to say.”

“Classic Ni-ki,” she mused, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of impressive that you got to work with him. He’s got a reputation, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” You kept your voice light, trying not to dwell on the fact that you had spent the better part of Potions class analyzing the guy instead of just brewing the potion. “It’s just one class though. Nothing special.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but wonder why he kept himself so closed off. There was a quiet confidence about him, yes, but also a wall that he didn’t seem to let anyone through. It made him mysterious, sure, but also frustrating. What was he hiding? Or was it just his nature, plain and simple?

Leeseo and you reached the courtyard, the cool autumn air refreshing after the confined dungeon. You tilted your head up, letting the breeze rustle through your hair, trying to shake off the distraction that Ni-ki had become in your thoughts.

“Well, he’s not bad-looking,” Leeseo added with a grin, catching you completely off guard.

You nearly choked on air, throwing her an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

She laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, you can’t deny it. He’s got that whole mysterious, brooding Slytherin thing going on. You’d be blind not to notice.”

You groaned, tugging your scarf tighter around your neck as you continued walking. “I don’t need any more distractions, thanks. We have enough on our plate with the upcoming exams and essays.” You tried to steer the conversation away, not wanting to admit that, yes, Ni-ki was ridiculously good-looking. Admiring him from afar was one thing, but beyond that? Absolutely not.

Leeseo just smiled knowingly, but thankfully, she let the topic drop as you made your way to the next class. Still, as the day went on, Ni-ki’s expressionless face, his precise movements, and the way his hair fell over his eyes refused to leave the corners of your mind.

You sighed to yourself. This was going to be harder to ignore than you thought.

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

It all really started one afternoon at the library when you were tucked away at your usual table near the back, surrounded by textbooks and parchment. You were completely immersed in your reading when you noticed a shadow fall across the table.

Looking up, you saw him—Nishimura Ni-ki.

Without a word, he pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down. No greeting, no explanation, just the soft sound of him placing his books on the table. He didn’t meet your eyes, didn’t acknowledge your surprised expression. Instead, he opened his own textbook and began reading, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to sit there.

You blinked, taken aback. For a moment, you considered asking him what he was doing. After all, it wasn’t as if the library was short on tables, and Ni-ki wasn’t exactly known for being social with anyone outside of his Slytherin circle. But instead, you tried to focus on your work, convincing yourself that he’d leave soon enough.

But he didn’t.

He stayed, flipping through pages, scribbling notes in his neat, precise handwriting. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you—just sat there, quietly doing his own work. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him, confused by his presence. Why was he here, sitting with you, of all people?

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t hold back any longer. "What are you doing?" you asked, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing Madam Pince’s ire.

He didn’t look up from his book. "Studying," he replied, his tone clipped and direct.

You raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. But why here?"

For the first time, he looked up, meeting your eyes with that same unreadable expression he always wore. "Is there a problem?" he asked calmly, his voice steady.

You hesitated. He wasn’t being rude, exactly, but the way he spoke made it clear he didn’t think he needed to explain himself. You shook your head, deciding it wasn’t worth pushing further. "No," you muttered, turning back to your own notes.

And so the pattern began.

Each time you came to the library, Ni-ki would show up not long after. Sometimes he arrived before you, already seated at the same table, as if claiming it before you could. Other times, he’d stroll in after you’d settled down, take his seat across from you, and dive into his work. He never spoke unless you asked him a direct question, and even then, his answers were always short, almost dismissive. It wasn’t that he was unkind—just distant, like there was no need for conversation.

"Why do you keep sitting here?" you asked one day, after he’d settled into the chair across from you for what felt like the hundredth time.

He didn’t even look up. "It’s quiet," he answered simply, continuing to write in his notebook.

You frowned, not satisfied with the answer. "There are other tables. You could sit anywhere else."

"True." He glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting yours before flicking back to his book. "But I’m sitting here."

That was all he said. No further explanation, no invitation for more questions. Just a simple, matter-of-fact statement that left you feeling more confused than before.

It wasn’t like he was helping you with your work, either. He didn’t offer advice, didn’t join in on any discussions about the material you were studying. He was just… there. A quiet presence that made you hyper-aware of his every movement, even though he barely acknowledged you. It was unnerving at first, but over time, you began to expect it—Ni-ki would be there, silently doing his own thing while you tried to focus on yours.

There were moments when you found yourself glancing at him more than you should have. His hair, still that light shade, would occasionally fall in front of his eyes, and he’d push it back with a practiced motion. His fingers moved with such precision as he wrote, and his posture was always so composed, like he never let himself relax fully.

And yet, despite the quiet, there was something oddly comforting about his presence. It was strange to admit, but in the silence of the library, having him across from you became… familiar. Predictable, even.

Still, the lack of interaction left you with more questions than answers. Why sit with you every time if he had no intention of talking? What was he gaining from it? Was it simply convenience, or was there something else going on that you couldn’t see?

One afternoon, after another long stretch of silent studying, you finally broke the quiet. "You don’t have to sit here, you know."

He paused, his quill hovering over the parchment. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, he seemed to consider your words. "I know," he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. "But I am."

And with that, he went back to his work, leaving you with nothing but the steady scratch of his quill and the growing confusion swirling in your mind.

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

As the weeks passed, Ni-ki’s quiet presence at your table in the library became something you began to anticipate. It was no longer surprising when he pulled out the chair across from you, settling in without a word. At first, it had unnerved you—the silent way he occupied the space, his sharp focus on his own work, and the fact that, outside these moments, he didn’t acknowledge you at all. But now, somehow, you didn’t mind it.

In fact, you found yourself looking forward to it. His quiet company had a strange, calming effect, as if the library wasn’t truly complete without him sitting across from you. You had started to expect him there, so much so that on the rare occasions when he wasn’t, you couldn’t help but feel a little off-kilter, like something was missing from the day.

It wasn’t that the two of you had grown closer, at least not in the usual sense. He never spoke unless you asked him a direct question, and even then, his answers were brief and to the point. He offered no opinions, no conversation starters—just an occasional glance in your direction, sometimes a quiet nod. And yet, you had grown accustomed to the silence between you, a silence that felt oddly comfortable.

But the strange thing was, beyond these quiet library sessions, it was as if Ni-ki didn’t know you at all.

In classes, he barely looked your way. If he did speak to you, it was only because the lesson demanded it—when he was your partner for a potion, or during group work in Transfiguration. His responses were always curt, efficient, like he was checking off a box before returning to his own tasks. You would pass each other in the corridors, or see him in the Great Hall, always surrounded by his Slytherin friends, and it was like you didn’t exist. Not a glance, not a nod, nothing to suggest he even knew you.

It puzzled you to no end. You weren’t sure if it bothered you or just left you more curious. Why go out of his way to sit with you in the library if he had no interest in interacting with you elsewhere? It wasn’t like he needed help with his studies—Ni-ki was brilliant in his own right. And it wasn’t like you were friends, either. In fact, you had hardly spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other since you first started sharing a table.

You found yourself wondering more and more why he bothered. Why, out of all the places in Hogwarts, did he always choose the spot across from you? Why did he sit with you, week after week, without saying much of anything, only to act as if you didn’t exist the moment you left the library?

But you didn’t dare ask him. For one thing, Ni-ki was rarely alone. He was almost always surrounded by his Slytherin friends—usually fellow prefects or others from his house, most of whom carried an air of superiority that reminded you why you kept your distance from most of them. There was never a convenient moment to pull him aside, and even if there were, you couldn’t imagine what you’d say.

And then there was the other part of you, the part that didn’t exactly want to know the answer. What if it was something you didn’t want to hear? What if the reason was as simple as convenience, or worse—what if there was no reason at all? What if, to him, you were just a tablemate, nothing more?

You’d often catch yourself glancing over at him during Potions or in the Great Hall, trying to make sense of him. His friends would be laughing or talking among themselves, and there Ni-ki would be, sitting quietly, his expression unreadable, completely detached from whatever conversation was happening around him. You wondered if he was the same with them—distant, aloof, only speaking when necessary.

Sometimes you’d catch his eye, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something—maybe recognition, maybe nothing at all. But then, he’d look away, and the moment would pass as quickly as it came.

It became a kind of ritual—this quiet routine in the library, these fleeting moments of wondering. You couldn’t deny the growing curiosity, though. Why did he choose you, out of everyone he could have sat with? And why did it seem like he was perfectly fine with just… existing alongside you, never crossing the invisible line that separated the two of you?

You wished you had the courage to ask him. But each time you considered it, you reminded yourself of who he was—Nishimura Ni-ki, Slytherin prefect, sharp-tongued and unreadable. He wasn’t someone you could just ask a simple, casual question and expect an answer that wouldn’t make you regret it.

And besides, maybe it was better this way—better to leave the mystery unsolved than to shatter the quiet routine you had somehow built with him.

Even your friends began to notice. Leeseo had raised her eyebrows the first time she saw Ni-ki sitting with you in the library, but she hadn’t said anything beyond the occasional teasing. “Your silent study buddy’s here again,” she’d say with a wink when she caught him at the table. “You two make quite the pair.”

You always brushed it off, rolling your eyes at her remarks. But deep down, a part of you wondered if she saw something you were missing. Was there more to Ni-ki’s presence than what you had convinced yourself to believe?

It was during one of those quiet afternoons, with parchment spread across the table and the soft scratch of your quill filling the silence, that you found yourself thinking about it more than usual. Why, out of all the students at Hogwarts, did he choose to sit with you? Surely, he had plenty of friends or places he could have gone. And more importantly, why did he never talk to you outside of the library?

Your eyes flicked up to Ni-ki, who was seated across from you as usual, engrossed in a large, ancient-looking tome. His light hair fell over his forehead, slightly tousled from the breeze outside. He looked calm, composed, and completely at ease, as if this had been his routine for years.

A question hovered on the tip of your tongue, one you had been pushing aside for weeks now. But before you could find the courage to ask, Ni-ki suddenly closed his book with a soft thud. You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, and he stood up, gathering his things with that same quiet precision.

He looked at you, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. For a second, you thought he might say something, but instead, he gave a slight nod—his usual, silent goodbye. Without a word, he turned and left the library, his footsteps soft against the stone floor.

You watched him go, feeling that familiar, quiet emptiness settle in his absence.

What you didn’t know was that, in Ni-ki’s mind, a storm was brewing. A quiet turmoil, hidden beneath his calm exterior, had begun to take shape, and it was all because of you. He had always prided himself on his ability to maintain focus, to keep his thoughts clear and his goals straightforward. But lately, you had become an unexpected variable in his otherwise predictable life.

At first, he had taken little notice of you. You were just another student, one among many who populated Hogwarts. But then, slowly but surely, that indifference had shifted to something else—curiosity. He began to notice the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you studied, the way your lips would curve into a small smile when you finally grasped a particularly tricky concept. There was something intriguing about your determination, something that pulled at the edges of his awareness.

As he continued to share those quiet moments in the library with you, he found himself observing you more intently. He noticed the small things: how you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought, how your expressions shifted subtly as you worked through problems. You were a puzzle he hadn’t expected to encounter, and with each encounter, the mystery deepened.

But it didn’t stop there. What began as a mild curiosity morphed into confusion. Ni-ki couldn’t quite articulate it, but there was something compelling about you—something that made you linger in his thoughts long after he had left the library. Why did your laughter echo in his mind? Why did he find himself glancing in your direction during meals, seeking you out in the crowded Great Hall, even when he was surrounded by his friends?

It was disconcerting, to say the least. He was known for his stoic demeanor, for being the type of person who kept his emotions in check. Yet, here he was, caught in an unyielding tide of thoughts about someone he had initially dismissed. It was frustrating, and a little alarming. He was supposed to be focused on his studies, on his role as a prefect, on maintaining the reputation he had carefully crafted. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that there was something deeper to explore with you?

Every time you caught his gaze across the Great Hall or shared a fleeting moment in the library, the storm would build inside him—curiosity colliding with confusion, a need to understand you battling against the fear of opening up. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if this was all one-sided, and he was just a distant presence in your life? The idea sent a jolt of uncertainty through him.

Ni-ki’s friends began to notice his distraction. They would tease him about how often he seemed to lose focus, how he would sometimes pause mid-conversation, his eyes drifting off to the side as if searching for something—or someone. But he brushed their remarks aside, masking his inner conflict with indifference.

He found himself wrestling with a mounting desire to approach you, to understand the enigma you represented. But every time he would gather the courage to break that silence, to say something more than the necessary exchanges during class, he hesitated. The distance between you felt both comforting and suffocating.

It was a confusing dichotomy, and Ni-ki was left to navigate his own feelings in silence, unsure of where this newfound intrigue would lead him. All he knew was that every time he sat in front of you in the library, the storm inside him would shift—pushing him closer to the edge of wanting to reach out, even as fear held him back.

He didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t know why he kept coming back, why he couldn’t stay away, even though he knew that sitting there, in silence, only made things more complicated.

But he couldn’t stop. And he didn’t want to. He just needed to figure out how.

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

It started gradually, almost imperceptibly. The silence between you and Ni-ki began to shift, not in any overt way but in small moments that made it feel… less heavy. The library sessions continued as they always had, with Ni-ki sitting across from you, his head bent over his books, while you quietly worked on your own assignments. But there were times now when you found yourself speaking.

It started off with casual remarks. Maybe it was the stress of exams or the overwhelming workload that had you venting aloud, but Ni-ki never seemed bothered by it. He didn’t offer much in return—just a short nod or a quiet hum of acknowledgment—but he listened.

One evening, after a particularly difficult day, you couldn’t hold back anymore. "I just don’t get it," you muttered, staring at your Transfiguration textbook in frustration. "No matter how much I study, I can’t seem to get this right. And McGonagall keeps assigning more complex material like it’s nothing."

Ni-ki looked up, his eyes flicking to the page you were stuck on before settling back on your frustrated expression. He didn’t say anything, just kept watching you with that same quiet intensity you had grown used to.

"And," you continued, feeling a strange comfort in speaking your thoughts aloud to him, "there’s this Slytherin who won’t stop picking on me. Every time I pass by them, it’s like they have to make some snide comment or knock my bag off my shoulder. It’s ridiculous." You sighed, shaking your head. "But I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes."

Ni-ki’s eyes darkened slightly at your words, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. You didn’t expect a response; you were just letting off steam. Somehow, Ni-ki’s silent presence always made it easier to say the things that were weighing on you. You could talk to him without fear of judgment or interruption. He just listened, and that was enough.

The next day, something changed. The Slytherin student who had made it their mission to irritate you suddenly stopped. They no longer sneered at you in the halls, no longer made rude remarks or tried to provoke you. In fact, they seemed to go out of their way to avoid you altogether. You didn’t understand why, but you weren’t about to complain.

And then, there was the folder. It appeared during one of your classes, a neatly organized folder filled with notes on every subject you had been struggling with. The handwriting was unmistakable—precise, clean, and undeniably Ni-ki’s. The notes were thorough, covering all the topics you had mentioned having trouble with. It was as if he had gone out of his way to compile everything you needed to help you catch up.

You didn’t know how to react at first. Gratitude and surprise warred within you as you thumbed through the pages, recognizing the meticulous effort that had gone into writing them. Ni-ki hadn’t said a word about it, hadn’t even hinted that he was going to help you like this. He had just quietly, and without fanfare, made sure you had everything you needed.

The next time you saw him in the library, you didn’t hesitate to thank him.

"Ni-ki," you began softly, looking up from your books to meet his gaze. His head lifted slightly, acknowledging that he was listening. "Thank you—for the notes." Your voice was sincere, full of the appreciation you felt. "I really didn’t expect it, but it helped a lot."

He didn’t say anything in return. He just nodded once, his face remaining as impassive as ever, as if this grand gesture was nothing out of the ordinary. For Ni-ki, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was just how he operated—helping silently, without drawing attention to it, without expecting anything in return.

But for you, it meant something. A lot, actually. It was a reminder that beneath Ni-ki’s cold exterior, there was more to him than he let on. His actions spoke louder than any words could, and though he kept his distance in almost every other part of your life, in these quiet moments, he was closer than anyone.

And so, you didn’t ask what had happened with the Slytherin who had suddenly stopped bothering you. You didn’t ask why Ni-ki had gone through the trouble of writing those notes for you or why he had stayed by your side all this time in the library. Because somehow, you knew. This was just Ni-ki’s way—silent, unspoken care hidden behind his cool exterior.

And that was enough for now.

One evening, during one of your usual study sessions in the library, you were stuck. The upcoming exam loomed over you, and no matter how many times you read the same question, the answer refused to reveal itself. You sat there in silence, frustration building as you stared blankly at the page in front of you.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of parchment and soft footsteps in the distance. Ni-ki sat across from you, as usual, his head bent over his own work. The silence between you two was comfortable by now, and you didn’t expect it to be broken anytime soon. You sighed, trying to push through the mental block that had settled over you.

Then, you heard movement—a soft rustling. Glancing up, you saw Ni-ki standing. For a moment, you thought he was leaving, and disappointment bloomed unexpectedly in your chest. You looked back down, resigned to continuing your struggle alone, but then something surprising happened.

You felt the faint shift of air and the quiet creak of the wooden bench, startled, you turned your head and found him sitting right next to you. His presence was closer than it had ever been during these sessions, and it made your heart race for reasons you didn’t entirely understand.

"Where are you stuck?" Ni-ki asked, his voice soft but clear. There was no trace of his usual distance, just a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.

Blinking, still mildly in shock from the sudden change in his behavior, you pointed at the question that had been giving you trouble. You half-expected him to glance at it, make some passing comment, and return to his seat. But instead, Ni-ki leaned in slightly, examining the material with a focused expression.

He began speaking, his voice calm and smooth as he explained the concept in clear, concise terms. There was a quiet assurance in the way he spoke, his words precise and easy to follow. He wasn’t just repeating the textbook either—he was breaking it down in a way that made it understandable, relatable even. You listened closely, hanging onto each word, and slowly, like fog lifting from your mind, the confusion began to clear.

With each sentence Ni-ki uttered, the material started to make sense. What had seemed impossible moments before was now manageable, the concepts clicking together as he guided you through the steps. His voice had a soothing quality to it, calm and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to sit with you and explain.

You found yourself glancing at him occasionally, taking in the way his eyes stayed fixed on the book, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he worked through the material with you. There was something unexpectedly gentle about the way he spoke, something that contrasted with the cold, distant persona he usually kept up. And in this moment, sitting side by side in the dim light of the library, it was hard to remember why you had ever thought of him as distant at all.

When he finished explaining, you stared at the page for a moment, absorbing the new understanding. It felt like a weight had lifted, and for the first time in hours, you felt a surge of confidence that maybe—just maybe—you could actually manage this exam.

"Does that make sense now?" Ni-ki asked, his voice still soft.

You nodded, almost dazed. "Yeah… it does. Thanks."

He didn’t say anything in response, just gave a small, barely noticeable nod before settling back into his seat, returning to his own work as if nothing unusual had happened.

But something had shifted between you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly, but the air felt different now—less like the quiet companionship you had grown used to and more like… something else. Something unspoken.

You sat there for a few moments longer, still processing both the study material and the fact that Ni-ki had just sat next to you, helped you. He hadn’t done it begrudgingly either; he had simply done it because you needed help. And his presence, his voice, had made all the difference.

As you returned to your notes, you couldn’t help but glance at him again, wondering what other sides of Ni-ki lay hidden beneath the surface.

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

One evening, after hours of studying and flipping through books, you found yourself exhausted. Your eyes were burning from reading the same passage over and over, and you sighed loudly, resting your head on the table. Ni-ki glanced up from his work, giving you a quizzical look.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, almost concerned.

You nodded, not lifting your head. “Yeah. Between Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology, I feel like my brain is going to melt.”

There was a pause before you heard him shifting in his seat. “Potions is your weakest subject, right?”

You looked up, blinking in surprise. It wasn’t like Ni-ki to make small talk, and the fact that he remembered your struggles in Potions caught you off guard.

“Yeah,” you admitted, sitting up straighter. “It just doesn’t click for me like other subjects do.”

Ni-ki seemed to consider this for a moment before responding, “I used to be terrible at Potions too. In second year, I once brewed a Sleeping Draught that knocked out half the class. Snape wasn’t pleased.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping you. “No way! You, bad at Potions? I can’t believe it.”

“Everyone starts somewhere.”

Another time, while working on your Charms essay, you noticed Ni-ki was unusually quiet—even for him. He wasn’t reading or writing, just sitting there, staring at his open textbook with an intense focus that seemed off.

You hesitated before asking, “Are you okay? You seem… distracted.”

He didn’t look up at first, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the table. “I’m fine,” he said, but his tone lacked its usual confidence.

You waited, sensing that he wasn’t fine at all. After a long moment of silence, Ni-ki finally spoke again, quieter this time. “I’m… just thinking about some things. It’s nothing important.”

You could tell that was a lie. He was always so composed, so in control of his emotions, that seeing him unsettled was strange. But you didn’t push him. Instead, you offered something simple.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his expression softening just a little. He didn’t say anything, but the small nod he gave you felt like a thank you.

Another late night, the library was almost empty, save for you and Ni-ki at your usual spot. You had been studying for hours, and exhaustion was starting to settle in. You stretched, groaning as you reached for your quill.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you muttered. “My brain is fried.”

Ni-ki glanced up from his book, closing it with a quiet snap. “Take a break.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the suggestion. “You? Telling me to take a break? What’s gotten into you?”

“Even I take breaks sometimes.”

Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’ve never seen it.”

Instead of responding, Ni-ki stood up and stretched, motioning for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s walk around for a few minutes.”

Confused but curious, you followed him out of the library and into the cool night air. The two of you walked in silence for a while, the soft breeze helping to clear your mind. After a few minutes, Ni-ki broke the silence.

“You push yourself too hard sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the observation. “You’re one to talk.”

He shrugged “Maybe. But I know when to stop.”

But perhaps the most unexpected moment came one late afternoon, as you both sat in the library, quietly working on your respective assignments. You were in a lighter mood that day, having finally finished an essay that had been plaguing you for weeks. Feeling more relaxed, you absentmindedly began talking about the ridiculous antics of a few fellow students during Herbology, mimicking the professor's reactions with exaggerated gestures and voices.

Ni-ki, as usual, didn’t say much, just listened with his usual calm expression. But then, something shifted. When you imitated Professor Sprout tripping over a Mandrake root, you caught it—the faintest twitch of his lips. At first, you thought you had imagined it, but then it happened again. His lips curved up into a small smile, and for a brief moment, Ni-ki’s usually composed face broke into something entirely different.

You froze mid-sentence, staring at him in shock. Ni-ki—quiet, serious, and often unreadable—was smiling. Not just a polite smile, but a genuine one, and you could see a glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed your stunned expression.

“I… I didn’t know you could smile,” you blurted out, completely forgetting your earlier train of thought.

Ni-ki’s smile widened, and then, to your utter disbelief, a soft chuckle escaped him. It was quiet and brief, but it was there—a real laugh. And suddenly, the cold, distant image you had of him cracked just a little more, revealing something warmer, something softer beneath the surface.

He quickly composed himself, the smile fading but not disappearing entirely. “I’m not a statue,” he said dryly, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that you had never seen before.

“I mean, I guess I just assumed…” you trailed off, still processing the fact that you had just witnessed Ni-ki laugh.

And then, with a small smile still playing at the corners of his lips, Ni-ki returned to his work, leaving you to sit there.

But one of the most memorable moments between you happened during a study session where, for once, things were going smoothly. You were both focused on your work when a random thought popped into your head, and without thinking, you said it aloud.

“Do you think Professor McGonagall’s animagus form ever accidentally knocks things off tables like a real cat?”

Ni-ki looked up at you, clearly confused. “What?”

You laughed, suddenly realizing how ridiculous the thought sounded. “I mean, she’s a cat, right? What if she just can’t help herself and bats things off desks?”

For a moment, Ni-ki just stared at you, and you thought he was going to tell you off for not focusing. But then, to your utter shock, he started laughing—a real, genuine laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it was pure, and the sound of it made your heart skip a beat.

“Why would you even think of that?” he asked, still chuckling.

You shrugged, grinning. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head.”

Ni-ki shook his head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

But there was no malice in his words, only a warmth that hadn’t been there before. And in that moment, you realized just how much closer the two of you had become. And seeing him laugh—really laugh—was something you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

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

It was a quiet afternoon when it happened. You had just finished another study session in the library with Ni-ki. He had helped you with a particularly difficult problem, and though he was his usual quiet self, you had left feeling a sense of warmth—like things between you were truly starting to shift. Maybe Ni-ki didn’t always show it in public, but you were sure he valued your time together, even if it was mostly in the library.

However, as you made your way through the corridors, feeling content from the productive session, a group of girls—Ni-ki’s admirers, if you were honest—blocked your path. Their expressions weren’t friendly, and you could tell right away that something was off.

Before you could say anything, they pushed you into an empty classroom, closing the door behind you. The leader of the group, a girl you recognized as one of Ni-ki’s more obsessive followers, crossed her arms, sneering.

“So,” she began, voice dripping with disdain, “you think you're special, huh? Just because you spend time with Ni-ki in the library?”

You froze, your heart pounding. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stared at them, trying to keep calm.

“Do you actually believe he cares about you?” another one chimed in. “He’s just too polite to tell you to leave him alone.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but the leader cut you off. “Oh, please. He pities you. You should hear the things people say. They’re always wondering why he wastes his time on someone like you.”

Her words hit hard, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “That’s not true. He helps me because he—”

“Because he what?” she interrupted with a cruel laugh. “Because he likes you? Don’t be stupid. He only tolerates you. He never talks to you outside the library, does he?”

That made you pause. It was true—Ni-ki never approached you in the halls, never spoke to you outside of your library sessions. He barely acknowledged you in class unless it was absolutely necessary. Even when you saw him with his friends, he acted as if you didn’t exist.

They could see the doubt in your eyes, and the girl smirked, sensing victory. “See? You know it’s true. If he really liked you, why would he act like you don’t exist when you’re not sitting across from him in the library?”

You stayed silent, unable to find an answer. The doubts they were planting in your mind started to grow roots, wrapping around your thoughts and pulling you into a spiral of overthinking.

“He probably thinks you’re a burden,” one of the girls said with a mocking laugh. “I mean, why else would he avoid you in front of his friends? He doesn’t want them to see him hanging out with someone like you.”

The words stung, each one cutting deeper than the last. You tried to fight back, tried to tell yourself that Ni-ki’s quiet nature didn’t mean he didn’t care, but their accusations fed into your worst fears. What if you really were just a burden to him? What if he did pity you, and that’s why he never spoke to you outside of your study sessions?

You kept quiet, and they could see they had hit their mark.

“Face it,” the leader said, stepping closer with a satisfied smirk. “Ni-ki feels sorry for you. You’re nothing to him.”

You bit your lip, holding back the sting of tears. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but the words had already wormed their way into your head. Why did he only talk to you in the library? Why didn’t he ever approach you outside of that space? You thought you had gotten closer to him, but maybe you had been wrong all along.

They left you there in the empty classroom, their mocking laughter echoing in the halls as they disappeared. You stood frozen in place, your thoughts swirling with doubt and confusion, questioning everything you thought you knew about Ni-ki and your growing connection with him.

That one question kept repeating in your mind: Why didn’t he talk to you outside of the library?

After that confrontation in the empty classroom, you couldn’t shake the words that had been thrown at you. The girls' taunts, the doubts they had planted in your mind—they echoed endlessly, gnawing at your thoughts and twisting everything you thought you knew about your relationship with Ni-ki. Every time you walked through the halls, you felt a strange weight on your chest.

You began to pull away, slowly at first. It started with cutting your library sessions shorter. Where once you might have lingered for hours, speaking to Ni-ki about anything and everything, now you found yourself packing up your things earlier, offering hurried excuses about homework or other commitments. Ni-ki would glance at you but never say much, and his silence only added to your doubts. It was almost like he didn’t notice your growing distance, or maybe, you thought bitterly, he didn’t care enough to ask.

The distance grew wider as the days passed. You started skipping your library sessions altogether, avoiding the places you knew Ni-ki would be. The once-familiar space where the two of you had shared quiet moments now felt like a weight, a place filled with uncertainty and confusion. You didn’t know what to make of your feelings, or of Ni-ki’s. Were you really just a burden to him? Did he pity you, as they had said?

It hurt too much to face him, so you stopped trying.

In the hallways, you could feel his gaze on you. Even if you weren’t looking, you knew when Ni-ki was nearby. It was as if some invisible thread still tied the two of you together, but now it felt frayed and fragile, a connection you didn’t know how to mend. You passed by him in the corridors, your head down, avoiding his eyes at all costs. In the Great Hall, you chose seats far away from where he and his Slytherin friends sat. But somehow, it didn’t matter. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, his gaze following your every move, and each time, it sent a wave of guilt crashing over you.

You never looked back at him, though. You couldn’t.

You skipped classes you shared with him. It started with one or two missed lectures, but eventually, it became a pattern. Without him, you struggled, barely scraping by with borrowed notes from friends. They weren’t as clear or detailed as Ni-ki’s notes, but they would have to do. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for help again.

Despite all your attempts to avoid him, Ni-ki’s presence lingered everywhere. You didn’t know if it was your mind playing tricks on you, or if he really was watching you more closely now. Whatever it was, you felt more conflicted than ever. You wondered if he noticed your absence, if he cared, but then that gnawing insecurity crept back in, reminding you of what those girls had said. He’s just too polite to tell you to leave him alone.

The more you thought about it, the more you withdrew. Doubts clouded every memory of your time with Ni-ki, twisting your perception of everything he’d done for you—the notes, the help with your studies, the quiet moments you’d shared. What if it had all been one-sided? What if you had been nothing more than a project, a pity case?

And so, you kept your distance, avoiding the boy whose piercing gaze you could no longer bear to meet, and wondering if maybe, in the end, they had been right all along.

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

You had been so lost in your thoughts, your mind circling around the same questions, the same doubts, that you didn’t even realize where your feet were taking you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you noticed the dim, cold lighting of the dungeons, the walls lined with stone, and the distant murmur of voices. You froze, recognizing how close you were to the Slytherin dorms.

Instinctively, you were about to turn and head back the way you came when the sound of laughter caught your attention. It was light, warm, and carefree—a sound that felt almost foreign in this part of the castle. Curious, despite yourself, you peeked around the corner.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Standing there, casually leaning against the wall, was Ni-ki. His head was tilted slightly back, his face scrunched up in genuine amusement, his white teeth flashing in a wide grin. He was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the edges, his normally stoic expression completely replaced by something so light and happy that it shocked you. You had never seen him like this before. His laugh, his smile. It made him seem younger, softer, almost…adorable. For a moment, you were completely transfixed, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

But then, your eyes flickered to the people surrounding him. His friends—other Slytherins you recognized—were standing nearby, laughing along with him. Among them, you spotted a few of the girls who had cornered you in the empty classroom, their cruel words still echoing in your mind. The sight of them, standing so close to Ni-ki, chatting and laughing as if everything was normal, sent a jolt of discomfort through you.

And then, before you could react, one of Ni-ki’s friends noticed you. His expression shifted slightly as he leaned in to whisper something in Ni-ki’s ear.

Ni-ki turned.

Your heart dropped.

His gaze locked onto yours from across the hallway, his laughter fading instantly. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a gasp escaping your lips as you quickly turned on your heel and speed-walked down the hallway, trying to put as much distance between yourself and that scene as possible.

Your heart was pounding, your thoughts racing. He was laughing with them. With those girls… The image of his bright smile, so carefree, so natural, was seared into your mind, but it was tainted now by the memory of the people surrounding him—the people who had made you doubt everything.

Had he heard what they said? Did he know?

You didn’t wait to find out. All you knew was that you needed to get as far away from the dungeons, and from Ni-ki, as quickly as possible.

You didn’t exactly know how you ended up in the library, but here you were, tucked away in a quiet, hidden corner that no one ever really bothered with. It was your place, somewhere you used to come to study, or more recently, to avoid. The shelves towered above you, enclosing you in their safe, comforting silence, but it did little to ease the heavy weight in your chest.

Wiping away the stray tears that had already started to fall, you slid down to the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest. Your bag dropped beside you with a soft thud, the books spilling out carelessly, but you didn’t bother to pick them up. It felt like too much effort, like you couldn’t muster the energy to do anything but curl in on yourself.

Tears fell freely now, and you buried your face in your arms, trying to muffle the soft sobs that escaped. Everything had just… built up. The confusion, the distance, the hurt from what Ni-ki’s admirers had said, and now seeing him so happy without you. You had tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that he was just a library acquaintance, but the truth was that it did matter. More than you wanted to admit.

The quiet of the library felt like it was pressing down on you, suffocating in its stillness, yet at the same time, it was the only place where you could let go like this. Where no one would see you, no one would ask questions, and no one would tell you that you were being silly for feeling this way.

You cried softly, the hurt you’d been bottling up for so long finally breaking free. The words of those girls echoed in your mind, their sneering voices telling you that Ni-ki pitied you, that he didn’t care, that you were nothing to him. The worst part was that you had started to believe it.

The image of Ni-ki laughing with his friends flashed before your eyes again, and it only deepened the ache in your chest. He seemed so happy, so… distant. And you? You were nothing but a fading presence, something he could ignore outside of your shared library sessions. You had convinced yourself that maybe you had become friends, maybe there was something more, but now, it all felt like a lie.

The sobs came harder now, your chest tightening painfully as you curled further into yourself. You didn’t want to care this much. You didn’t want to feel this way. But here you were, hiding in the shadows of the library, crying over someone you weren’t even sure cared about you at all.

The quiet shuffling beside you broke through your tears, making you look up from your curled position. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Ni-ki standing right there, holding your bag in his hand, his face full of worry. His usually composed expression was soft, eyebrows knitted together as he searched your face.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You sniffled, quickly wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve and nodding, though your heart wasn’t in the gesture. You looked away, half-expecting him to leave like always, to walk away and give you space. But instead, you heard him set his bag down. You glanced at him, shocked, as he sat beside you on the floor.

Ni-ki leaned back against the shelves, closing his eyes for a moment before sighing deeply. "I know you’ve been avoiding me," he said, his voice softer than usual, yet it held a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing from him. He opened his eyes, looking directly at you, and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

You sat up, startled by his question. "What? No, no, of course you didn’t!" you answered quickly, panic rising in your chest.

He tilted his head slightly, clearly unconvinced. "Then why…" His words trailed off as he sighed again. He looked at you, his expression filled with something close to concern. "Please… tell me. I’m worried about you," he admitted, his voice quiet.

His words made your heart clench. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made it harder to stay quiet. You gulped, trying to steady yourself. This was the moment you had been dreading. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to say the words that had been haunting you since that confrontation. But seeing him here, sitting beside you, waiting for an explanation—it was enough to make you break.

"I…" You began, your voice shaky. "It’s not you, Ni-ki, really. You didn’t do anything wrong." You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "Some girls… they confronted me, said that you pitied me. That you thought I was a burden… and it got in my head. They asked why you never talk to me outside the library, and… I started wondering if they were right."

Ni-ki’s expression shifted immediately, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What? Why would they say that?"

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. "They said I was stupid for even thinking we were friends… that I didn’t matter to you outside of studying."

There was a long pause, the silence hanging heavily between you. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, too afraid of what you might see in his eyes. But then, after what felt like an eternity, Ni-ki’s voice broke the silence.

"That’s not true," he said quietly, his tone firm but gentle. "You’re not a burden. I don’t pity you."

You slowly looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. His usual calm exterior was gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

"I didn’t know you felt like that," Ni-ki continued, his voice soft. "I… I just didn’t think you’d want to hang out with me outside the library. I didn’t think I was someone you’d want to be around like that."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "What? But… you’re always surrounded by people. Why would you think that?"

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, people, not friends. Most of them just see me as Ni-ki, the Slytherin prefect or whatever. I don’t… I don’t let people in easily. But you…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "I guess I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed your company until you started avoiding me."

His words made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth amidst all the confusion and hurt.

"I’m sorry," you whispered. "I didn’t mean to make assumptions or push you away. I just… I didn’t know what to think."

Ni-ki shook his head, his gaze softening. "It’s okay. I should’ve been more clear with you." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I want you to know… I don’t just think of you as someone I study with. I…" He trailed off again, his cheeks tinting the faintest shade of pink.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. He looked vulnerable, in a way you had never seen before.

"I care about you," he finally said, the words slow and deliberate, as if he had been holding onto them for a long time. "More than you think."

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at him, unsure of how to respond. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you—it made your chest tighten in a way that was both overwhelming and comforting.

"I…" you started, your voice faltering. You didn’t know what to say, how to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

But you didn’t have to say anything, because in that moment, Ni-ki smiled at you—genuinely smiled, the corners of his lips turning up, his eyes softening. It was a small, almost shy smile, but it was enough to make you realize that everything you had been overthinking, all the doubts and insecurities, had been for nothing.

Ni-ki cared. He had always cared.

Ni-ki stayed by your side, his presence steady and comforting as you finally let the weight of everything spill out. You told him about the girls, your voice shaky at first, but as you continued, you felt lighter, as though every word lifted a little bit of the burden off your chest. His expression shifted the moment you named them, his brows drawing together in a way you’d never seen before—serious, almost dangerous.

For a moment, you worried that he might storm off, that his calm demeanor would crack and he’d go after them. But instead, he simply listened, his face tight with restrained anger, and when you finished, he surprised you once again.

He opened his arms.

Without a second thought, you slid into his embrace, feeling his warmth surround you, his arms wrapping securely around your back. His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled—a real, genuine smile.

"They were wrong," he murmured softly, his voice vibrating through his chest. "You mean so much more to me than they could ever understand."

You felt your heart swell at his words, the knot in your stomach slowly unraveling. He didn’t hate you. He never had.

When you finally pulled back from the hug, your gaze met his, and the intensity of his eyes made your breath hitch. His face was still close, his cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he paused, swallowing nervously.

"I…" he began, his voice a little shaky. "I need to tell you something." His eyes darted away for a moment before finding yours again, determination setting in. "I’ve been… thinking about this for a while, and I just—" He sighed, clearly flustered. "I don’t know how to say it."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. Ni-ki, the calm, collected boy who never seemed to let anything rattle him, was stuttering and blushing, his usual composure unraveling before your eyes.

"I-I like you," he blurted out, his face now fully red. "A lot. I have for a while, but I didn’t know how to say it. I’m not good at this stuff, and I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but when you started avoiding me, I—"

He was rambling now, his words spilling out in a rush, and you could tell he was struggling to keep up with his own thoughts. It was so unlike him, seeing him this vulnerable, this unsure. It was endearing.

Before he could continue, you acted on impulse, reaching up to gently cup his face and pulling him toward you. His eyes widened in surprise just before your lips met his.

For a split second, you could feel his shock, his body freezing beneath your touch. But then, just as quickly, he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, pulling you closer. His lips were soft, hesitant at first, but then the kiss deepened, his movements growing more sure, more confident. He held you like you were something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of.

The world seemed to disappear around you, the weight of everything that had been bothering you fading away in the warmth of his embrace. It was just you and Ni-ki, the soft press of his lips against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you realized.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, your face warm from the intensity of the moment. Ni-ki stared at you, his lips slightly parted, still processing what had just happened.

"I… uh…" He blinked, his usual calm demeanor shattered, and it made you smile.

"That was your way of saying you like me too, huh?" he asked with a sheepish grin, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

You laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah… I like you too, Ni-ki."

His smile widened, this time filled with a mixture of relief and happiness. "I’m glad," he said softly, his voice warm and full of sincerity.

For a moment, you both just sat there, basking in the newfound closeness, the tension that had been between you for weeks dissolving into something sweet, something real.

"Let’s forget about those girls," he murmured after a while, his forehead resting gently against yours. "They don’t know what they’re talking about. All that matters is you and me, okay?"

You nodded, your heart full. "Okay."

[fandomfucker]

You Can Be My Patient | Dr. Mel King x Gn!Reader

Synopsis: Firefighter!Reader runs into girlfriend Dr. King after they get hurt on the job.

⚠️TW⚠️: Talk of suicide, guns, gunshot wounds, lots of blood

A/N: There are for sure medical inaccuracies in here, apologies in advance. Doesn't follow the actual plot of the show so no spoilers, also heavily inspired by 9-1-1 🙂‍↕️

Word Count: 1,788

Noise clung to you like static. The only thing you could really make out was the thunderous sound of your heart beating in your ears. The last thing you remembered for certain was an ear-splitting boom, before nothing.

It was called in as just a kid on a ledge. Something you were the best on the team at. What no one had noticed, was that this kid wasn't just suicidal.

He had wanted to take others out with him.

None of the several 911 callers had seen the gun, what with him standing at the top of a billboard why would they have? He wanted to lure someone up there with him.

And that someone just so happened to be you.

You stood at the edge of the aerial ladder as your partner slowly rose you up enough to step onto the billboard where you called out to him. You never saw it until it was too late. And by then, the officer that had been canvassing from below took a shot as well.

The two of you hit the rungs at the same time, your name being screamed over your crackling radio the last thing you could make out over the buzzing in your ear.

Your eyes shifted, taking in your bloodied surroundings as a means of control as your nervous system began to override everything else. You were just in your team’s ambulance, but you had never seen it from this perspective before, and where you formerly felt confident you now just felt foreign.

Adrenaline coursed through you, leaving you shaking and breathless even as you just laid on the gurney.

Callie, your favorite paramedic at your station, stroked your hair with one hand as she kept pressure on your wound with the other.

"Hey, we're almost there, 'k? We're getting you to the best doctors possible. We're two minutes out alright, just hold on."

As your panic began to increase as whatever initial shock you had started to wear off, you were more and more aware of the bullet wound in your shoulder. The agonizing burn of it, to be more specific.

You could feel the hot sticky liquid flowing down your arm and your back, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that it coated the floor as well. You could smell the metallic properties of it, unsure if part of it was fused with the burnt metal of the bullet.

"Where's the kid?" You managed to ask her, your voice dry and cracking.

"He's in the other ambulance, GSW to the head. Don't worry about him though, just worry about you."

You closed your eyes, overcome by a sudden bout of nausea as the ambulance came to an abrupt halt, the wheels of the gurney shaking you.

They rolled you through the doors of the E.R., the bright lights making you close your eyes tightly as a reverberating pounding began from the back of your head. Callie shushed you gently as a small groan left your lips.

Fingers pulled your right eyelid back right as a bright light was shone directly into your eyeball. You knew what they were doing, but in your dazed state, all you wanted was to keep every light possible out of your line of sight.

The hand holding your eyelid dropped it but immediately picked up the other eyelid and shone the light in that eye while another set of hands held your head still.

Words you couldn't quite comprehend were thrown at and around you as your head was released and you felt the movement of the gurney you laid on. You heard "Dr. Langdon" and managed to open your eyes on your own to a squint. You recognized that name from what your girlfriend had told you about a few of her colleagues. Namely, Dr. Langdon, with whom she’d been working very closely.

You didn’t recognize his face but with the way he seemingly commanded the room you could tell who he was. He helped Callie and the other paramedic, Danni, move you from the gurney to a bed, making you bite back a groan of pain as more blood seeped through the tattered remains of your shirt.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I’m Dr. King-“ The woman entering your little cubicle stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you. You probably looked a mess, with what you were sure was blood spattered on your face and your hair stuck to your sweat-soaked skin, not to mention the sheer amount of blood just all over everything.

“Y/N?” She spoke softly in horrified shock. You managed a small grin as Dr. Langdon got to work removing the rest of your shirt, removing every obstacle between him and your wound. He spared a glance towards Dr. King but never actually stopped for a second. “Hey, Mel.”

Her eyes were wide, glued to the amount of blood still coming from your shoulder that Langdon now gripped, prepared to move you to see the full extent but waiting for Mel.

He glanced at you before looking back at Mel. “Dr. King? Is there a problem here?”

You gave her a small nod of encouragement; you trusted her to heal you so long as she was okay with it. She twiddled with her pen against her clipboard as she searched for a proper response.

“Dr. King?”

It’s like she was shocked back to the present, she ran to your injured side and began doing a check of everything as she began to ramble. “Do you have any dizziness or nausea? A headache?” She braced your upper body as the two of them raised your injured shoulder. You hissed in pain, gritting your teeth.

“Through and through,” Langdon stated, grabbing some gauze to put in each side of the wound before wrapping it up.

You took in a deep breath, trying to remember the questions Mel had asked you. “No dizziness, but yes nausea and double yes, headache,” you groaned.

Mel walked around to your other side as Langdon began to cover up the bullet holes. She brushed some of the sweaty hair off your forehead and you closed your eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Are you on any medications that we should be aware of? Have any allergies?” Langdon asked, glancing at you before doing a double-take at Mel’s fingers in your hair.

Before you could even get a chance to answer, she was answering for you. “No allergies, but they’re on escitalopram.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at where your fingers now clutched tightly onto the hem of Mel’s scrubs. “And, you would know that how?”

Mel looked sort of affronted at him as if he should’ve known already despite having never met before. “They’re my partner. I would hope that I know their medical history.”

Langdon let out a small laugh, finishing up the wrapping. “Well, in that case, you can help fill out all their paperwork. I’ll let the OR know we’re ready when they are.” He turned to you just before he left the room, “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

She pulled up the small stool on wheels next to your bedside and took up residence as she filled out your paperwork. Only leaving your side once to get you some pain medication. She kept you entertained while also making sure you stayed awake until they put you under for your surgery.

You tried to explain to her what happened, through your hazy memory and brain currently turned to mush. It wasn’t your first concussion and certainly wouldn’t be your last with your line of work which made Mel all the more nervous.

When the OR was finally ready for you, Mel made sure to be the one to bring up upstairs. She hesitated at the end of your bed before she had to leave, visibly anxious. “Come here.” She smiled softly, holding out your good hand for her to hold. “I’m gonna be okay, I promise. I’ll be in recovery waiting for you before you know it.” She smiled slightly, knowing you were in the best possible hands. “I love you, Mel, this isn’t going to keep me away from you.”

She ducked her head, a small blush coating her cheeks. She squeezed your hand, a small smile gracing her lips. “I love you too. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You grinned, as much as you still could to recite something the two of you had originally bonded over when you first started dating. “Always?”

“Always,” She laughed, sounding like pure heaven.

**********

“How long 'til I can go back to work, Doc?” You had woken up from surgery a little over an hour ago. Mel had been able to get the rest of her shift off to stay with you until you could go home the next day.

Mel frowned at you slightly, “At least a month or two, and possibly a little bit of physical therapy depending on if any tendons were torn. But I want you to get as much rest as possible. You don’t always have to rush back to work. You’re allowed to rest.”

You sighed softly, this was a conversation the two of you had had a few times before. Maybe now that something serious happened, you would be more open to slowing down. If not for you then for her.

"I was.. I was really worried about you." She kept her gaze on the ground as she let out a large breath that, by the sound of it, she'd been holding in for quite some time.

You reached out your hand, knowing that while she did enjoy your touch, she typically preferred it to be on her terms. She softly grabbed your hand, pulling herself closer to you as she gripped it harder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. And, I would’ve been more careful had we known the kid had a gun.” There was a lump in your throat as you swallowed, suddenly being the one to avoid eye contact.

“But you didn’t know, and there was no way to know.” She absently drew different shapes on the back of your hand as she cradled it in her lap. “But, it’s okay because I’m a doctor, and that’s what I’m here for. You can be my patient.” She smiled at you, in that cute way she does that reminds you of pure sunshine.

You squeezed her hand, your head lolling to the side as some of the residual drowsiness snuck up on you.

“I love you,” and a kiss on your forehead was the last thing you remembered before you were totally asleep. Comforted in the knowledge that your girlfriend would still be there when you woke up, and every second afterward.

[ghstyles]

Balance | His Angel

Pairing: College!Yn x CrimeBossl!Harry

Based on this request

WC: 4K

His Angel Masterlist

Main Masterlist

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

The emergency room at St. Thomas' Hospital buzzes with the controlled chaos typical of a Friday evening due to the influx accidents, illnesses, and the occasional drunk student creating a steady flow of patients. In one of the curtained examination areas, Y/N sits on the edge of a bed, her right ankle elevated on a pillow, already showing signs of swelling despite the ice pack wrapped around it.

She checks her phone for the third time in as many minutes, grimacing at the notifications: three missed calls from Harry and a series of increasingly concerned texts. She should have known better than to think she could visit a hospital without him finding out. The fact that she's managed to avoid his calls for the past forty minutes is already pushing her luck dangerously thin.

"Miss, the doctor will be with you shortly," a nurse informs her, pulling back the curtain briefly before continuing her rounds.

Y/N nods her thanks, then turns her attention back to her phone, typing out what she hopes is a reassuring message:

I'm FINE. Just a sprained ankle from the charity run. No need to worry. Will call you when I'm done here.

She hits send, knowing it won't be enough to pacify him but hoping it might at least prevent him from—

The curtain is suddenly yanked open with enough force that the metal rings screech against the rod. Standing in the opening is Harry, his imposing frame blocking the view of the busy hallway behind him. His expression is thunderous, a barely controlled fury radiating from every line of his body as his eyes lock onto her and then immediately drop to her elevated ankle.

Several nurses glance their way, alarmed by his forceful entrance, but something in his demeanor, the expensive suit, the dangerous energy, the absolute confidence of a man who answers to no one, makes them hesitate to approach.

"Harry," Y/N says, keeping her voice deliberately light despite the flutter of anxiety in her chest. "Fancy seeing you here. I was just about to call you."

The attempt at casual humor falls flat. Harry steps into the small curtained space, letting the fabric fall closed behind him. His jaw is clenched so tightly she can see a muscle jumping in his cheek, his eyes dark with a mixture of rage and concern that makes her instinctively want to reach for him and back away simultaneously.

"Don't," he says, his voice low and controlled in a way that indicates he's anything but. "Don't you fucking dare try to make light of this."

Y/N swallows, her smile faltering under the intensity of his gaze.

"It's really not a big deal," she tries again, gesturing to her ankle. "Just a minor sprain. The doctor hasn't even seen me yet, but the nurse said it's probably just–– "

"A minor sprain," Harry cuts her off, advancing toward the bed. "A minor fucking sprain that put you in the hospital, and you didn't think to call me?"

His voice remains quiet, but there's a dangerous edge to it that makes Y/N's heart race. She's not afraid of him, never that, but she recognizes the signs of Harry teetering on the edge of his control, his protective instincts warring with his fury at being kept in the dark.

"I didn't want to worry you," she explains, watching as he comes to stand beside her bed, his hands flexing at his sides as if he doesn't quite trust himself to touch her yet. "You had that meeting with the Italians today, and I know how important it was. It's just a stupid accident from the charity run. I tripped over someone's shoelace."

Harry's expression doesn't soften at her explanation. If anything, his eyes grow darker.

"You didn't want to worry me," he repeats, the words coming out as if they taste bitter in his mouth. "So instead, I get a call from Davis telling me you're in the fucking emergency room, and he doesn't know what happened because you won't tell him anything."

Davis, one of the men Harry has assigned to watch over her when he can't be with her himself. Of course. Y/N should have expected this, should have known that Harry's protective surveillance would extend to medical emergencies.

"I'm going to kill him," she mutters, genuine irritation flashing across her features. "He said he was just calling a cab for me."

Harry's hand shoots out, gripping her chin firmly but not painfully, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You'll do no such thing," he says, his voice deadly quiet. "Davis did exactly what he's paid to do, protect you and inform me when you're in danger."

"I'm not in danger," Y/N protests, trying to pull away from his grip but finding herself held firmly in place. "It's a sprained ankle, Harry, not a gunshot wound."

The comparison makes his expression darken further, his fingers tightening fractionally on her chin.

"Don't," he warns again. "Don't you fucking joke about that. Not now."

Something in his tone, a rawness beneath the anger, makes Y/N stop struggling against his hold. She sees it then, the fear lurking behind his fury, the genuine panic that must have gripped him at Davis's call.

Her expression softens, her hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, not to pull him away but to maintain the connection between them.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice gentler now. "I should have called you. I just... I didn't want to be a bother over something so minor."

Harry's grip on her chin relaxes slightly, his thumb brushing across her lower lip in a gesture that's half caress, half claiming.

"A bother," he repeats, incredulity coloring his tone. "You think your safety is a bother to me?"

Before Y/N can respond, the curtain is pulled back again, revealing a young doctor with a tablet in hand. He falters momentarily at the sight of Harry, at the tension clearly visible between them, but recovers quickly, professional training taking over.

"Miss Collins?" he confirms, glancing at his tablet. "I'm Dr. Patel. Let's take a look at that ankle, shall we?"

Harry drops his hand from Y/N's face but doesn't step back, remaining so close that his thigh presses against the edge of the bed. His eyes follow every movement as the doctor approaches, his protective stance making it clear that he has no intention of leaving.

Dr. Patel glances between them, clearly assessing the dynamics at play.

"And you are...?" he asks Harry, his tone professionally neutral.

"Her partner," Harry replies before Y/N can speak, the word carrying a weight of possession that goes far beyond its dictionary definition.

The doctor nods, apparently satisfied with this explanation, and turns his attention to Y/N's ankle, carefully removing the ice pack to examine the swelling.

"How did this happen?" he asks, his fingers gently probing the injured area.

"Charity run on campus," Y/N explains, wincing slightly as he touches a particularly tender spot. "I tripped over someone's shoelace during the final stretch."

Dr. Patel nods, continuing his examination.

"Any history of ankle injuries?" he inquires, manipulating her foot slightly to test the range of motion.

"No," Y/N begins, but Harry interrupts.

"Yes," he corrects, his eyes never leaving the doctor's hands on her ankle. "She sprained the same ankle two years ago. Rock climbing."

Y/N looks at him in surprise, she'd almost forgotten about that minor injury, which had healed quickly and completely. The fact that Harry remembers it, that he's tracking her medical history with such precision, shouldn't surprise her by now, but somehow it still does.

Dr. Patel glances between them again, then makes a note on his tablet.

"I'd like to get an X-ray to rule out any fractures," he says, replacing the ice pack carefully. "Given the previous injury and the current swelling, it's better to be thorough. I'll have a nurse come in to take you to radiology."

With that, he exits, leaving Y/N and Harry alone again in the curtained space. The brief interruption seems to have given Harry time to regain some of his composure, though the tension hasn't left his body entirely.

"Rock climbing," he says after a moment, his voice slightly less strained than before. "Another activity you insisted was perfectly safe."

There's a hint of his usual dry humor in the observation, a good sign that the worst of his anger might be subsiding.

"It was safe," Y/N counters, relieved at this slight shift in his mood. "Until I tried to show off and went for a hold that was clearly beyond my skill level."

Harry makes a noncommittal sound, finally moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her elevated ankle.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now, the raw edge of fear more evident without the overlay of anger. "The truth, Y/N."

She meets his gaze, seeing the genuine hurt beneath the question. It's rare for Harry to show vulnerability like this, to admit, even indirectly, that her actions have the power to wound him.

"I didn't want to be a burden," she admits softly. "You had the meeting with the Italians, and I know how much was riding on it. It seemed silly to pull you away for something so minor."

Harry's expression darkens again, though not with the blind fury of before.

"Nothing about you is minor to me," he says, his hand finding hers on the bed, fingers interlacing with a possessive grip. "Nothing. Do you understand that? The Italians, the business, all of it, none of it matters compared to you."

The intensity of his declaration makes Y/N's breath catch. Even after a year together, the depth of Harry's feelings for her sometimes catches her off guard, the absolute, unwavering priority he places on her wellbeing, her happiness, her safety.

"I know," she says softly, squeezing his hand. "I do know that. I just... I'm not used to being someone's priority like that. Sometimes I forget that I don't have to handle everything on my own anymore."

Harry's expression softens fractionally, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Well, get fucking used to it," he says, the crude language at odds with the gentleness of his touch. "Because that's not changing. Ever."

The possessive declaration should feel suffocating, but instead, it wraps around Y/N like a shield, the certainty of Harry's protection, his care, his absolute devotion a comfort she's come to rely on more than she sometimes wants to admit.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you," she says, leaning into his touch slightly. "I really am."

Harry studies her for a long moment, as if assessing the sincerity of her apology, before giving a short nod of acceptance.

"Don't do it again," he says, his tone making it clear this isn't a request but a command. "Any injury, any illness, anything that puts you in a hospital or a doctor's office, I hear about it immediately. Not from Davis or any of my other men. From you. Understood?"

The directive is delivered with all the authority of a man accustomed to absolute obedience, but Y/N has never been one to simply acquiesce to Harry's demands without question.

"Even if it's just a paper cut?" she asks, a hint of challenge in her voice despite her genuine remorse for worrying him. "Or a routine checkup?"

Harry's eyes narrow slightly at her pushback, but there's a flicker of something like reluctant amusement in their depths.

"Don't test me right now, angel," he warns, though some of the deadly edge has left his voice. "I'm still deciding whether to put you over my knee when we get home."

The threat, half-serious, half-seductive, brings a flush to Y/N's cheeks and a defiant tilt to her chin.

"You wouldn't dare," she challenges, though they both know there have been occasions when Harry has done exactly that, turning punishment into pleasure in ways that still make her blush to remember.

Harry's answering smile is dangerous, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a slow caress that belies the threat in his words.

"Try me," he suggests softly. "Keep pushing, and find out."

The charged moment between them is interrupted by the arrival of a nurse with a wheelchair, ready to take Y/N to radiology. Harry stands immediately, stepping back to allow the nurse access but maintaining his hold on Y/N's hand.

"I'll help her," he says, his tone brooking no argument as he carefully supports Y/N's weight while she maneuvers from the bed to the wheelchair, ensuring her injured ankle doesn't bear any pressure.

The nurse, perhaps sensing the futility of arguing, simply nods and steps back, allowing Harry to take control of the situation.

"I can take it from here," she offers once Y/N is settled in the chair.

Harry's response is a look that makes the nurse take an instinctive step backward, not overtly threatening, but carrying the clear message that he has no intention of leaving Y/N's side.

"I'll be accompanying her," he states, his tone making it clear this isn't open for discussion.

The nurse hesitates only briefly before nodding, apparently deciding this isn't a battle worth fighting.

"Of course," she agrees, gesturing toward the hallway. "This way, please."

As they navigate through the busy emergency department, Y/N looks up at Harry, who walks beside her wheelchair with the focused intensity of a bodyguard on high alert, his eyes scanning their surroundings as if potential threats lurk in every corner.

"You know, most people would just say 'I was worried about you' instead of going full mob boss in the hospital," she comments quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry's gaze drops to her, his expression softening fractionally despite his clear attempt to maintain his stern demeanor.

"I was worried," he admits, his voice pitched low enough that only she can hear. "Fucking terrified, actually. When Davis called..."

He trails off, his jaw clenching again at the memory.

"All he said was that you were in the hospital. Didn't know why or how serious it was. For all I knew, you could have been, "

He cuts himself off, unwilling to give voice to the worst-case scenarios that must have flashed through his mind during those panicked moments.

Y/N's expression sobers, genuine remorse washing over her as she realizes just how frightening those uncertain minutes must have been for him, a man who has lost too much already, who guards what's his with a ferocity born of knowing how easily it can be taken away.

"I really am sorry," she says softly, reaching up to catch his hand as he walks beside her. "I didn't think about how it would sound, getting a call like that with no details. It won't happen again. I promise."

Harry's fingers tighten around hers, his expression still guarded but some of the tension leaving his shoulders at her sincere apology.

"It better not," he warns, though the words lack their earlier bite. "Or next time, I really will put you over my knee."

The nurse pushing the wheelchair clears her throat awkwardly, clearly having overheard this last comment, and Y/N feels her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Harry, predictably, looks entirely unrepentant, a hint of amusement finally breaking through his stern facade at Y/N's discomfort.

They reach radiology, where Harry insists on staying as close as the technicians will allow during the X-ray process. When they return to the emergency department to await the results, he positions himself beside her bed like a sentinel, his phone in hand as he makes arrangements with a terseness that suggests he's still not entirely calm.

"Car's waiting outside," he informs her after ending a call. "Davis has already collected your things from your dorm. You'll be staying at the penthouse until you're fully recovered."

It's not a question or a suggestion, but a statement of fact delivered with the absolute certainty of a man unused to having his decisions questioned.

Y/N opens her mouth to protest, she has classes, assignments, commitments on campus, but something in Harry's expression makes her reconsider. The fear she glimpsed earlier still lingers in his eyes, carefully masked but visible to someone who knows him as well as she does. This isn't just his usual possessiveness or control; this is Harry genuinely shaken, needing the reassurance of having her close, under his protection.

"Okay," she agrees instead, surprising him with her lack of argument. "But I'll need my laptop and books. I have a paper due next week."

Harry's expression relaxes fractionally at her acceptance, relief briefly visible before his usual controlled mask returns.

"Already taken care of," he assures her. "Davis picked up everything on your list. Whatever else you need, we'll have delivered."

Of course he's already thought of everything, already made arrangements to ensure her comfort and convenience while keeping her firmly within his protective reach. It should feel suffocating, this level of control, but today, with the throbbing pain in her ankle and the genuine contrition she feels for frightening him, it feels like caring, like safety, like being valued beyond measure.

When Dr. Patel returns with the X-ray results, confirming a moderate sprain but no fractures, recommending rest, elevation, and a follow-up with a specialist, Harry listens with intense focus, asking pointed questions about recovery time and proper care. He accepts the prescribed pain medication and care instructions with the same serious attention he might give to a business contract, committing every detail to memory.

As they prepare to leave, Harry insists on carrying Y/N rather than letting her use the wheelchair to exit, scooping her up with careful precision that ensures her injured ankle isn't jostled. She starts to protest, aware of the stares they're attracting as he carries her through the emergency department like something out of a romantic film, but the determined set of his jaw tells her this is another battle not worth fighting.

So instead, she loops her arms around his neck and leans into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, a heartbeat that had surely raced with fear when he received that call, a fear she had inadvertently caused with her attempt at independence.

"I really am sorry for scaring you," she murmurs against his shoulder as they exit into the cool evening air, where a sleek black Range Rover waits at the curb, Davis standing attentively beside the open rear door.

Harry's arms tighten around her briefly, his lips brushing against her temple in a rare public display of affection.

"Just don't do it again," he says, his voice gruff but no longer carrying that dangerous edge of barely controlled panic. "I can handle a lot of things, angel, but not that. Not you in danger and me not knowing."

As he carefully places her in the backseat of the car, arranging her injured leg with a gentleness at odds with his dangerous reputation, Y/N is struck again by the contradictions that make up Harry Styles, the ruthless mob boss who carries her from a hospital with the tender care of a man cradling something infinitely precious, the dangerous criminal who memorizes her medical history and asks detailed questions about her recovery, the controlling force of nature who is utterly undone by the thought of her in pain.

It's a power she never asked for and sometimes doesn't know how to wield, this ability to bring a dangerous man to his knees with nothing more than her absence, her pain, her potential loss. A power that comes with its own responsibility, she realizes as Harry slides into the seat beside her, his hand immediately finding hers, fingers interlacing with possessive certainty.

"Home," he instructs Davis, who nods and closes the door behind them.

Home, Harry's penthouse, with its security systems and bullet-proof windows, its luxurious comforts and its isolation from the world. A gilded cage, some might call it, but today it feels like exactly where she wants to be, safe, protected, cared for by a man who would burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping her from harm.

As the car pulls away from the hospital, Y/N leans her head against Harry's shoulder, feeling the tension still present in his body gradually begin to ease at her proximity, at the tangible proof of her safety. Tomorrow, perhaps, she'll push back against his overprotectiveness, negotiate the terms of her recovery and her return to campus life. But for tonight, she'll allow him this, the comfort of having her close, the reassurance of knowing she's safe within his reach.

Because that's the balance they've always maintained, his need to protect warring with her need for independence, his control meeting her defiance, his dangerous world intersecting with her normal one. And somehow, against all odds, finding a middle ground where both can exist without destroying the other.

Harry's arm comes around her shoulders, drawing her closer against his side as the city lights blur past the tinted windows. His lips press against her hair, lingering there as if reassuring himself of her presence, her solidity, her continued existence in his world.

"Next time," he murmurs against her temple, his voice low enough that Davis can't hear from the driver's seat, "you call me. Immediately. Or I swear to God, angel, sprained ankle or not, you won't sit comfortably for a week."

The threat carries an undercurrent of heat that makes Y/N's pulse quicken despite her exhaustion and the dull throb of pain in her ankle. She tilts her head back to meet his gaze, finding his eyes dark with a mixture of lingering concern and something more primal, more possessive.

"Is that supposed to discourage me?" she challenges quietly, a hint of her usual defiance returning now that the worst of his fear has subsided.

Harry's answering smile is slow and dangerous, his hand coming up to cup her cheek with deceptive gentleness.

"No," he admits, his thumb brushing across her lower lip in a gesture that's become familiar but never loses its impact. "It's supposed to remind you that there are consequences to scaring the shit out of me."

The crude honesty of the statement, the admission of fear from a man who admits fear to no one, touches something deep in Y/N's chest, a tenderness welling up that makes her next words softer, free of their usual challenging edge.

"I am sorry," she says again, turning her face to press a kiss against his palm. "And I will call you next time. I promise."

Harry studies her for a long moment, as if gauging the sincerity of her promise, before giving a short nod of acceptance.

"Good," he says simply, his arm tightening around her shoulders as he draws her back against his chest, positioning her carefully to ensure her injured ankle remains elevated on the seat across from them.

As the car continues its journey through London's evening traffic, Y/N allows herself to relax into Harry's protective embrace, the events of the day catching up with her in a wave of exhaustion. The last thing she registers before drifting into a light doze is the steady rhythm of Harry's heartbeat beneath her cheek and the gentle stroke of his fingers through her hair, a dangerous man made gentle, if only for her, if only in these private moments away from the world that knows him only as someone to be feared.

And perhaps that's enough, these moments of tenderness stolen from a life of violence, these glimpses of the man beneath the monster, these reminders that even in the darkest hearts, love can find purchase and grow, twisted and possessive though it may be. Not perfect, not traditional, but theirs, a love forged in the unlikely space between her light and his darkness, her innocence and his sin, her independence and his control.

A balance, precarious but persistent, that somehow works despite all the reasons it shouldn't.`

Taglist:@silastylesswift @babegoals @harryssunflower17 @puzio19 @goldensunflowerss-blog @drewrry @tinawritesstuff @dipmeinhoneyh @spinninc @harrystyleshotwife @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @estaticheart @harrysguccihandbag @mads3502 @harrydeary @valuunit @myfavfanficsever @lunaharrygurl @prettygurl-2009 @triski73 @angeldavis777 @ivegotthecinemaa @bethiegurl19 @mellamolayla @triski73 @sstylezzz

[gojoethereal]

A Mission Beyond Curses

Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x Reader | JJK x Reader | Sorcerer!Megumi x Sorcerer!Reader Warnings: smut, explicit, virgin reader, possessive megumi, dirty talk, kinda friends to lovers

an: this was a request and my first time writing for megumi I hope I don't disappoint 😣! btw I tired a different writing layout shall I just stick to my usual??

The early morning light filtered through the high windows of the Jujutsu Tech training hall, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

Around the training area, the usual clutter of cursed tools and scrolls lay forgotten for a moment.

Yuji Itadori bounced on his toes, clearly restless, while Nobara Kugisaki leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips.

At the center of the group sat Fushiguro Megumi, stoic as ever, eyes scanning the briefing notes with a quiet intensity.

And then there was you- Bright-eyed, energetic, with a warm smile that seemed to light up the entire room despite the heavy atmosphere.

You didn’t carry any cursed tools; your power was innate, raw, and refined, flowing from your body like a current of energy that could be as gentle as a breeze or as fierce as a storm.

Gojo Satoru, lounging casually nearby with his ever-present blindfold, called out, “Alright, team, listen up. You’re heading to a half-abandoned shopping mall. Reports of a mid-level curse, aggressive and cunning. I’m pairing you up for efficiency. Megumi, you’re with (Y/N). Yuji and Nobara, you’ve got the other sector.” His gaze flicked to Megumi.

"You're joking," Megumi said flatly.

You grinned, looping your arm around his. "Aww, don’t act so thrilled, Fushiguro. I promise not to be too annoying."

"I doubt that," he muttered.

"Tension! I love it," Nobara said, smirking.

"You two are always bickering. It's like watching a rom-com with knives," Yuji added.

You winked at them both, then turned your full attention to your reluctant mission partner. "Come on, Fushiguro. Let's go bond over blood and curses."

He sighed, but didn’t protest.

The group headed out, bantering lightly but with an undercurrent of anticipation. You caught Megumi’s gaze once more, a silent promise to prove you weren’t just a cheerful distraction.

The abandoned shopping mall was a relic of better times, broken glass crunching underfoot as you and Megumi advanced through the dim corridors. The air was thick with the scent of decay and latent cursed energy. Megumi’s shikigami prowled silently ahead, eyes glowing faintly.

“Stay sharp,” Megumi warned, voice low.

You nodded, feeling your cursed energy pulse in response.

Suddenly, a grotesque curse burst from the shadows, snarling with unnatural rage. Megumi acted fast, summoning his Divine Dogs, who lunged forward to attack. You stepped in, your power flaring as you unleashed a precise blast, striking the curse’s side and drawing a low growl from it.

“You’re annoying,” Megumi muttered, eyes on you as you danced around, agile and controlled.

You grinned, “And you’re a grumpy jerk, but I like it.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t retort.

The fight escalated, curses emerging from cracks and debris. Your synergy was flawless despite the teasing. Megumi’s calm planning and your spontaneous energy complimented each other. When one curse lunged at you, Megumi intercepted with brutal efficiency, but you weren’t without your own skills — your cursed energy flowed strong, no tools needed.

A sharp claw grazed your arm, drawing a shallow cut. You hissed but kept going.

Megumi’s voice was rough, protective. “You’re reckless.”

You smirked, “You’re just jealous you’re not the one getting hurt.”

His eyes flicked over the cut, and he cursed softly under his breath before finishing the curse off with a precise strike.

When the last curse dissolved, the adrenaline buzzed through your veins. Megumi exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders evident.

You worked in sync—but he hated how well you fit together. It made things worse.

“You’re infuriating,” he muttered, the annoyance failing to mask the trace of admiration in his voice.

You stepped closer, eyes bright. “Maybe I’m exactly what you need.”

He said nothing, but the tight line of his jaw spoke volumes.

---

**Back at Megumi’s Dorm**

The door shut quietly behind you as you entered Megumi’s dorm, a small, bare space that somehow felt intensely private. You set your bag down, watching as Megumi cleaned his weapons, his stoic mask firmly in place.

You leaned against the doorframe, voice teasing but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “You know, you’re wound tighter than a cursed spirit’s grip.”

Megumi didn’t look up. “It’s necessary.”

You stepped closer. "You act like you can’t stand me, but I see it. The way you look at me. The way you bite your tongue when I get too close."

His breath hitched.

"You’re so fucking tense all the time," you whispered. "I want to help you relax. I want you to use me. Let it all out."

You reached for his hand and placed it on your waist. "I’m a virgin. But I want you to be the first. I want you to take it. All of it."

Megumi’s hands trembled.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he cupped your face gently, brushing your cheek with his thumb. "Are you sure?"

You nodded. "Yes. Please."

He kissed you slow, reverent. "Then I’ll be careful—just for this part."

He undressed you gently, laying you on his bed with care. He explored your body with slow hands, worshipping every inch. His mouth kissed down your belly, fingers sliding between your thighs.

"You're already soaked," he murmured. "Is this all for me?"

You nodded, whimpering. "Megumi, please… I need it."

He spread you open, licking through your folds until you were writhing. Then two fingers pressed inside—firm, stretching you, curling just right.

You cried out, hips bucking. "Ah—please!"

“You’re mine, baby,” he murmured against your skin.

You whispered back, voice trembling, “I’m yours, Megumi. All yours.”

His hands were rough, gripping your hips as he pushed deeper into you, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “Good girl,” he growled. “You gonna be good for me?”

You nodded eagerly, fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trailed down your neck.

He was possessive and demanding, his hands spanking your thighs, marking you with red impressions that stung deliciously. “You like that, don’t you, pretty?” he teased, voice low and rough.

“Yes, Megumi,” you gasped, arching into his touch.

His hand moved to your throat, fingers tightening just enough to make you catch your breath, eyes fluttering shut. “Beg for it. Tell me you want me.”

“Please, Megumi,” you whimpered, voice thick. “Take me.

When he finally lined up, he paused, gaze locked on yours. "This’ll hurt. But I’ll make it feel good. You tell me if it’s too much."

You gripped his arms. "I trust you."

He pushed in slowly. Inch by inch. Stretching you until you gasped and clung to him.

"So tight," he groaned. "So good for me."

Once he was fully inside, he kissed your forehead. "You okay?"

You nodded shakily. "Move, please."

He started slow. Deep, dragging thrusts. Letting your body adjust.

But when you whimpered his name and begged for more—

Something inside him snapped.

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulled your hips up, and drove in rough.

"You wanted me like this? This what you were teasing for?"

You moaned helplessly, face pressed into the sheets.

He gripped your hair, yanked you up, fucked you like an animal.

“Take it. Take every inch. Don’t fucking run.”

He turned you again, hooked your knees to your chest, pounded into your soaking pussy until the bed shook.

“God, look at you. Fucking made for me.”

You sobbed, nails digging into his back. "More, please, more—"

He knelt, pulled you onto his cock, bouncing you. Your breasts bounced, sweat slicked your skin, and he groaned like he’d die from how good you felt.

"Gonna cum inside this pussy. Gonna fill you so full—"

You screamed his name as he slammed in harder, deeper, grinding against your sweet spot.

Your orgasm hit like lightning. He followed with a broken groan, spilling inside, thrusting through it until it leaked from you.

He didn’t let go. He kept you close, breathing hard.

"Still think I don’t like you?" he whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You smiled weakly. "I think you might hate how much you love me."

He kissed you again. Slower this time.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, voice gentle now.

You nodded, heart pounding, a smile spreading across your lips.

“Good,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “You did amazing.”

Wrapped in his arms, the wild storm inside you settled into a warm calm — the perfect peace after the chaos.

hope you enjoyed my lovesss!!1

[advancedflowcontrols]

Fill rite Pump Troubleshooting: Common Problems and Solutions

When it comes to fuel transfer pumps, Fill rite is a name that stands out for its durability and reliability. However, like any mechanical device, even the best equipment can face occasional issues. If you’re experiencing problems with your Fill rite pump, don’t worry — most issues are easy to fix with a little guidance.

At Advanced Flow Controls, we’re here to help you get your pump back in action quickly and efficiently. In this blog, we’ll cover the most common Fill rite pump problems and provide simple solutions to keep your fuel transfer running smoothly.

1. Pump Won’t Start or Power On

Possible Causes:

No power supply

Faulty switch or fuse

Loose wiring connections

Solutions:

Check the power source and ensure it’s connected properly.

Inspect the fuse and replace it if blown.

Examine all wiring for loose or damaged connections.

Tip: Always use the recommended voltage for your Fill rite model.

2. Pump Runs But Doesn’t Dispense Fuel

Possible Causes:

Clogged filter

Blocked suction line

Air leak in the suction system

Solutions:

Clean or replace the filter regularly.

Check the suction hose for clogs or kinks.

Tighten all fittings to remove any air leaks.

Fuel flow issues are often caused by simple blockages. A quick inspection can save you hours of downtime.

3. Pump is Leaking

Possible Causes:

Worn-out seals

Loose connections

Damaged hoses

Solutions:

Replace any worn seals or gaskets.

Make sure all fittings and connections are tight.

Replace damaged hoses to avoid spillage.

Leaks can be dangerous. Always address them immediately to ensure safe operation.

4. Pump is Noisy During Operation

Possible Causes:

Cavitation (air in the line)

Low fluid level

Worn bearings or internal parts

Solutions:

Check for and remove air from the system.

Make sure the tank has enough fuel.

Inspect internal components and replace if necessary.

A noisy pump is often a sign something is off — don’t ignore it.

5. Flow Rate is Slower Than Normal

Possible Causes:

Dirty or clogged filter

Obstructed lines

Worn pump components

Solutions:

Clean or change the filter.

Ensure all hoses and pipes are clear.

If parts are worn out, consider a service or replacement.

Regular maintenance is the key to consistent performance.

Preventive Maintenance Tips for Fill rite Pumps

Inspect regularly for leaks, loose parts, or blockages.

Clean filters and check hoses monthly.

Lubricate parts as recommended by the manufacturer.

Store in dry areas to prevent corrosion and wear.

A little routine care can extend the life of your Fill rite pump significantly.

Need Help? Contact Advanced Flow Controls

If you've tried these solutions and your Fill rite pump is still not working properly, don’t hesitate to get professional help. At Advanced Flow Controls, we specialize in fuel transfer solutions, and our team is always ready to assist you with troubleshooting, repairs, and replacements.

Explore our full range of Fill rite products and accessories on our website.

Final Thoughts

Troubleshooting your Fill rite pump doesn’t have to be difficult. With the right guidance and regular maintenance, you can avoid most issues and keep your system running smoothly.

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, implied dub-con, unwanted pregnancy, forced relationship, ooc, unedited

yandere reo | very ooc | 1.5k words | bluelock masterlist

“You’ll never have to work a day.” He said, eyes pouring straight into your own and a self assured tone just about anyone would falter to. If he was a stranger you might have hesitated to believe his words, assumed him to be a scammer of some sort but you knew him well enough to know his offer could very well be possible. Especially when his family amassed enough wealth to make even the concept of money virtually worthless.

As you looked around trying to calm your nerves you noticed how much more shabby your clothes looked, compared to his suit that fit well enough to have been sewn straight onto his body. Your skin was much more rough looking compared to his and your eyes adorned in dark circles as a result of sleepless nights.

“All you have to do is say yes.” He continued, a small smile on his face as he slid an envelope towards you. You had done everything in your power to avoid him, you weren’t friends or even acquaintances of any sort anymore. If anything you were waiting for him to break out laughing at the slightest sign of your acceptance, revealing this all to be a sick joke or the result of a lost bet. But for him, this was the day he had counted every second to reach.

/

While Reo Mikage focused on enjoying himself throughout his university years, with employment practically secured at his family's company the moment he graduates, you were famous for the opposite. [name] the straight A student who wouldn’t miss a lecture even if disaster struck, the one that barely spoke and rarely if ever attended any social events.

At first, it was curiosity, you were brought up in a conversation and Reo couldn’t help but want to know more. Then it became a habit, to locate you in the lecture hall unconsciously, to anticipate your voice when the professor took attendance or to ask in advance if you were going to attend any extracurricular. He couldn’t help but notice your little habits and become further enamored each passing day.

It was still an innocent love but it was all tainted in filth that one night, a club activity that got extended into a group dinner with alcohol flowing as in any gathering of students, Reo felt tipsy but it was nothing compared to you who was flushed red even though you refused most drinks. Maybe it was the drunk courage that led him to corner you outside where nobody could see. His lips landed on yours and before he could process what he was doing, he felt a rush surge through him as he was sure now, sure that the emotions rushing through him were much more than a passing fascination.

Mikage Reo was the type of man that just passed life by, he was just an empty shell with nothing inside. Things like money or sex didn’t mean much to him but right now a mere kiss had him salivating for more like an animal in heat. That night he did something he knew he shouldn’t have and dragged you to a hotel room. He knew you would barely remember any of it and like a coward he took advantage of it. It would be a rough start but he could handle it, he would get you to accept him once morning came. But as the premature rays of sun peeked through the curtains, he felt the empty space beside him where he was sure you laid.

/

“Why don’t you look at what’s inside that envelope first, I’m sure that’ll answer all your questions.” He said, gesturing towards the inconspicuous brown envelope, the sly smile on his face growing ever-wider.

Reo found himself crawling back to you like a crippling addict even after that night. Still searching for you in every room he entered and uninterested in anything unless it pertained to you. If only you hadn’t disappeared soon after that night, leading to his obsession growing exponentially beyond anything that could be controlled.

“This…” the tone in your voice had changed, it was no longer hesitation stemming in confusion but rather a mix of fear and disgust. And yet, he wanted more. Reo could see the revulsion in your gaze as you looked up towards him with your brows knitted and lips formed in a thin frown. All the effort he went through to track you down felt worth it. “I hope you’ll seriously consider my offer, if not for your own sake then for our child’s.” The paternity test in your hands wrinkled as you shook uncontrollably.

/

Your mind had gone blank when you woke up with a splitting headache and a discomfort between your legs, almost jumping in surprise to find the dreaded man lying next to you still fast asleep. You knew well that nothing good would come from someone like you associating with him so you left before he could wake up, ran back home and locked yourself in there until your friends came knocking a few days later. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them so you pretended it never happened and buried yourself in work instead.

When he approached you afterwards with a confession full of confidence, as if you accepting would be the most natural thing on Earth you could do nothing but stare at him with disgust. Screaming profanities one after another. You hated his kind, the careless rich kids that thought they could get anything they desired. “I’m not an object you can obtain by throwing money at me!” Those were your last parting words to him, the ones that rang in his head even today. His wide eyed expression brought at least some satisfaction to you that day. You couldn’t report him for your own sake so even this small victory was welcomed.

However, as if the universe were laughing at your misfortune, you were presented with the positive pregnancy test in your hands weeks later. Maybe the test was faulty—that’s what you comforted yourself with as you sat in the doctor's office. But not only were you pregnant, you would have no choice but to carry the pregnancy to term as it was far too late to get an abortion. That’s when the reality of your situation truly sunk in and you broke down for the first time. With nobody to rely on and unable to continue your studies due to your deteriorating health, you ran away from it all. You told yourself it would be temporary, just until the baby was born and then you would return to your studies but you couldn’t give your baby daughter away to someone else. Even when she was the spitting image of her father your heart broke thinking of what she would have to go through in an orphanage so you kept her, slowly finding new happiness in your daughter's smile.

Reo could barely compose himself once you rejected him. Following a monotonous routine as his sanity and reason hung by a thread. All he could think about was how he would make you pay until you begged to be his. But his parents put a stop to it, sending him abroad where they hoped he would change but his every thought was still consumed by only you. Finding out you had a child upon his return was enough to make him rebound into his obsession even worse than before, especially when she resembled him so much.

/

“The paternity test was just a formality, you can tell with just one look that she’s my daughter. Anyways just pack any essentials and get ready, we’re leaving this dump.” It was almost as if he was talking to himself with how he didn’t even bother to get a reply from you.

“I’m not leaving and neither is my daughter.” You had grown protective over your baby, a bastard like him didn’t deserve her.

“Let’s not make this any worse than it has to be, [name]. We both know you can’t afford to take care of a child on your own. What will you do when she grows up and asks why she doesn’t have a father, hmm? What about when she asks why she can’t have the things other kids have? Or when she wants to do extracurricular like kids her age, or when she wants to travel or go out with friends. Or what about when she—.”

“I get it, you can stop now!” You interrupted as tears streamed down your face, you had once again regressed into an inconsolable mess and in front of the man you despised the most to boot. You knew well you couldn’t give her the life she deserved.

/

Your daughter liked her father, almost as if she had known him from birth. It stung a little when her first words were ‘papa’ and when she would run to him before even looking at you but you could make peace with that, she’s just a child after all. What you couldn’t stand was your now husband, Reo. He had only gotten worse as now he seemed to think he had free reign to do as he pleased with you. He had made such a big show of only doing this for ‘his’ daughter but, to your detriment, he seemed much more interested in making up for lost time with you.

[ros3ybabes]

🎀 Workout Youtubers

I currently do exclusively pilates and yoga workouts from youtube. However, I've done other body weight workouts with various youtube videos and seen results in the past. Here is my list of workout youtubers that you could check out! I will put a * next to my personal favorites! I will include a short list of my current at home workout equipment at the end as well as some items I plan on buying soon!

With any workout program or routine, always be safe, check with your doctor if necessary, and if something doesn't feel good or right, don't do it! No matter what your goals are, it's always important to be safe and stay healthy. Please always take care of yourselves and know how beautiful, worthy and valuable you are no matter what! I love you all <333

🩷 Pilates

Move with Nicole * (also posts occasionally barre and yoga videos as well! I love her videos so so much)

Madeleine Abeid

IsaWelly

Pilatesbodyraven

Lidia Mera

Lottie Murphy

Amanda Blauer

Margaret Elizabeth

Jessica Valant Pilates

Bailey Brown

Dansique Fitness

Flow with Mira

Sivi (she's began posting some pilates inspired workouts and to my knowledge is currently getting certified as an instructor)

🩷 Yoga

Yoga with Adriene *

Yoga with Bird

Boho Beuatiful Yoga

🩷 Bodyweight Fitness/Strength/HIIT

Chloe Ting * (I don't like the click bait, but I like the workouts)

Blogilates

Pamela Reif *

Madfit *

Lilly Sabri * (Some of her videos are titled with pilates, but the older ones I used to do were not pilates, so I categorized her here)

Emi Wong

Shirlyn Kim

Vivian Yuan

April Han

growingannanas

growwithjo * (I love her walking workouts)

Hinafit

Mish Choi

Sami Clarke

Elenifit

Coach Kel (she posts what looks like more barre, ballet, pilates inspored/fusion workouts it seems)

Caroline Girvan

TRAIN WITH GAINSBYBRAINS

Daisy Keech

🎀 Current At Home Workout Equipment I Own

Thick Yoga Mat - since I do mainly yoga and pilates my thick yoga may (amazon brand) has served me well. Even tho I am a heavier woman at the moment, I've never had pain or any issues with this mat, and it came with a carry strap which I love! A good, thick workout mat is definitely necessary for working out at home for comfort, safety, etc. Make sure to disinfect it on occasion, especially if you sweat on it a lot!

Resistance Bands - I have about 3 or 4 at different resistance strengths, and they're incredibly useful for a variety of movements, especially lower body ones. They add some extra resistance and make the workouts a bit more challenging when you need something more advanced. I also got mine from Amazon/Walmart a while back. I prefer fabric over rubber because I like to wear workout shorts instead of workout leggings.

Pilates Ball - not a necessity, but useful with some pilates workouts and movements. I have seen sole videos using this, but am not advanced enough to try it on my own yet. Will use for sure once I'm more advanced.

3lb dumbbells - I thought these would be useful for the pilates workouts that had some upper body focus, and as someone who wants to develop a lean and toned upper body, they are perfect for low weight high rep, controlled movements. Again, not advanced enough to use as I want to master my form, but they're gonna come in handy for sure!

Foam Roller - so so good for stretching and muscle recovery on rest days. I love mine but want one that has the bump things on it to help my muscles more. I can imagine how good it'll feel on my legs during a recovery day when I begin wieght lifting again.

Massage Gun - my holy grail for the days I am sore and needing some recovery. my body feels like jelly after using this, and it's just so nice for the days my muscles feel extra tight and super sore.

🎀 Equipment I Want To Buy

Yoga Blocks - these will help me get deeper into the yoga poses once I get more advanced in my practice

Pilates Ring - this honestly looks so fun and challenging to use, I'd love to add it to my collection of useful workout equipment!

Jump Rope - I used to love this as a form of cardio and as long as I don't move into an upstairs apartment, I'm definitely buying one

Pilates Bar - still iffy on this one, it's supposed to mimic a reformer but I want to get better at mat pilates and see if I even end up ever needing or seriously wanting to buy it, its on my list tho

Ankle/Wrist weights - these are gonna be so useful for workouts where hand held dumbbells aren't useful. Want to buy some low weight ones just to help with resistance and extra strength during pilates workouts

Kettlebell weight - I think this would be useful for a workout at home type situation if and when I switch to not doing just pilates and yoga. I know these are useful in their own right, but not needed in my current fitness stage of life.

Core Sliders - these look fun and interesting. They're on my lost for sure, but not sure about the practicality of their use in my life just yet.

That's all that's currently on my at home workout equipment list! As someone who primarily works out at home, the things I currently own are most useful and most of what's on this list is for fun or extra challenge. Just not necessary yet.

hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any questions about my favorite youtuber workout instructors or favorite videos, please feel free to ask, I've tried so many and can give some guidance from my own experience and research.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[y0ur-lovrr]

-Some comfort.

A/n: Hi!! This is my first written piece and I’m sorry if it’s bad lol, any tips to write better is appreciated! <3

-no use of y/n, cs I hate that personally. I’m new to the tumblr thing so i apologize if it’s bad. Gn!reader, I don’t think I put any specific pronouns into this, but then again I didn’t proofread it, so apologies in advance.

Pairing- Chishiya shuntarou x reader <3

—“Seems like we’ve lost our partner.”

Chishiya hums,his voice calm and smooth as it always is,but you can catch the small clear glimpse of disappointment in it.

“You were too kind for a game like this, ippei.” He mumbles under his breath, staring at the body of his now dead partner on the floor of his solitary confinement cell, his head exploded off from the collar-blood all over the place. But because of his experience of being a med student, the blood didn’t really bother him-like anything bothered him, really. He was always as calm as a swimming pool.

But for you it was different. It bothered you-a whole lot. Throughout this stupid game you had grown to like ippei, having the thought that he would make it out of this game, like you and chishiya. But he didn’t.

Sniffles coming from chishiya’s side caught his attention, letting out a small hum and turning his head to look at you, hands casually shoved into the pockets of his white jacket.

There you stood beside him, eyes staring down at the scene in front of you, chest lightly heaving as your eyes are already tear filled, your bottom lip trembling as you try to not let any tears fall. His eyes analyze you, watching thoughtfully as he sees the way your fingers twitch at your sides, your eyes slightly wide and pupils slightly dilated. Clearly on the verge of having a breakdown, about to turn into a sobbing mess.

Everything sounds like it’s underwater in your ears, the voices of the other players down the hall are muffled, along with the sound of your breathing, for once even your thoughts are silent. Not even realizing how tears start to stream down your cheeks, unable to tear your eyes away from the body on the floor-the sight of his blood making you feel sick. You couldn’t help it..you knew that ippei killed himself cause he didn’t want to play anymore.

He truly was too sweet for this messed up place, you and chishiya both knew that.

“It’s unfortunate, I know.” Chishiya mumbles as he looks at you, shifting his feet to face you, slightly raising an eyebrow as you don’t move. He’s actually starting to grow concerned about you, he knew you’d cry-but not break like this, it was almost unnerving how you were just standing there.

He says your name, not once, but twice, but it’s as if you couldn’t hear him. It’s only when he lightly grasps onto your shoulder that you turn to look at him, sputtering out a ‘huh?’.

Before he can get a word out you cut him off with a small sob, your hands lifting to wipe your tears, you didn’t like crying, he knew that. He couldn’t help but notice how hard your hands were being with your face, wiping the flowing tears so hard that your cheeks are starting to turn red from the constant touching.

“I-I thought we had it under control…I thought we were all getting out of here together—“ you mutter out to chishiya between sniffles, your body starting to slightly tremble as you try to comfort yourself by wrapping one of your arms around your abdomen while the other continues to stay wiping your cheeks.

He doesn’t let you say another word, unusually bringing a hand out to you and placing it on your shoulder in a soothing manner, trying to be comforting to you. And it was working, honestly.

“He was too kind for this game, but we still have eachother, right?” He hums, just letting you cry, watching as you nod your head in reply, mumbling under your breath. He couldn’t understand your mumbling, but he doesn’t mention it.

To be honest, this was a little heartbreaking to watch. To him, you were too kind for this world to, just like ippei, even though it hasn’t screwed you over yet. He didn’t want it to either. You were too nice, too pure, too kind. He saw how you comforted other players during the game, or another game he met you in a while ago-a spades one to be exact. The same one he met Arisu, tag.

He saw how you dove towards someone else to save them from the tagger and their gun, almost getting yourself killed in the process-but the grin you flashed the lady made it worth it to you. But this was your breaking point, it seems. But he can’t blame you, who knows the amount of people you’ve seen die in these games.

“We’ll get through this. We’re smart aren’t we?” He says with a slight smirk, but it falters slightly as he sees it doesn’t work on you like it has before.

“For ippei?” He draws on, slightly raising an eyebrow at you, and huffs out a breath as he watched you lift your head and nod your head, mumbling back, finally getting your breath back.“For ippei..”

He then just lift his hand to your hair and lightly ruffles it and places it back on your shoulder, guiding you away from the scene. And you let him, knowing you both would protect eachother from now on, you both wanting to get out of this game.

[evilminji]

You know what would be both Cool(tm) AND Pants Shittingly Terrifying? Eldritch Space Whale Danny!

Except NOT! Because he's not a whale! Just snoozing and Giganto-Fuck-Off HUGE!

Imagine it! Danny. Joint Custody Child of The Ancients Of Time And Space. Space is SALTY AF because their BITCH OF AN EX has used his FUCKING POWERS, AGAIN, to CHEAT. Clockwork how DARE YOU.

You knew he'd be our Son in advance!

YOU SNUCK IN AND STARTING BONDING WITH OUR CHILD BEHIND MY BACK!

YOU [REDACTED]!

Danny? Sitting off to the Side as a Sentient Everything and Nothing made of galaxies and starlight, howls expletives at their Ex, who is being... REALLY snippy back? WOW, Clockwork. I mean, JESUS, man. Danny's from "oh bless their heart" Nowhere, Midwest. And even HE thinks that last one was both backhanded and cold af.

......he should take notes. *continues to eat his popcorn*

Anyway! APPARENTLY, Space Parent has taken him in the divorce. With much huffing. Tucked under their arm Like The Football(tm). And honestly? This is kinda hilarious, so he's cool with it. Byyyyyy~ Clock Dad! See you on weekends~☆!

*Exasperated Time Noises*

It's pretty cool! He learns a lot. Learns he's probably? Gonna be SOME variation of Space Ghost. Might even take over Space's... well, EVERYTHING, should the unforeseeable occur. So obviously, gonna have to learn The Family Business, as it were!

Which?

UNSPEAKABLY HYPED, YES PLEASE.

SPACE AND STAR STUFF! HECK YEAH!

Unfortunately? Still a Halfa. Bleh, squishy need to eat and sleep. Why they get in the way of Hyperfixation? Why no more space dust? Nooooo, don't drag him away from the controls! He can still learn! Sleep is for quitters! Cowards! *whining in Give Me Back My Blorbos, You Monsters*

But, no. He apparently has to "take care of his body" and "not burn out". Eat "real food". A protein bar counts! He probably ate one of those! Give him back his STARS! He doesn't CARE if he sounds like a toddler! That's DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SECRETS OF SPACE ITSELF! He'll BITE, so HELP HIM-! *Is scruffed like a cranky infant being carried off to beddy bye*

Injustice! D:<

But, none the less, body's require sleep. He shovles down his food, washes up, and flops down in his bed. In the nice lil cozy "Safe For My Half Apprentice Who Is Also My Adopted Son" corner. He passes out in that corner. Starts to float, as he has done countless times before, when agitated before bed. Floats OUT of that corner.

That Safe Little Corner.

IN THE CENTER, THE BEATING HEART OF SPACE.

You know... the place ALL OF SPACE connects too. Where Universe Form and Die. The Grand Recycler. Dust to Dust, from the ashes of old, to the creation of new. Where PORTALS are randomly assigned. So that the Omniversal Ectoplasmic Levels may always be balanced at near to perfect levels, allowing free flow of Souls through the various Reincarnation cycles.

Space, of course, doesn't MANAGE the Ectoplasm itself. Nor the Souls! Different Ancient for THAT, but they DO manage the PORTALS. We live in a SYSTEM after all. Everyone has their "departments" as it were. So really, it's quiet... Danny? Honey? Awful quiet back there! You, uh, fallen asleep, Starlight?

*empty room*

(O.O)

*inhale* AAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!!!

Meanwhile! He be Snoozin'! And Ghostin'! Ghost Snoozin'! Is extra comfy, cause he weightless and got not booooones~☆!

But! He? Is not a child anymore! Has learned to... for lack of a better term, Let Go. To finally ACCEPT his Death. His inhumanity. His Amortality. Death no longer holds him, can no longer let him go. He is... not immortal. He is disowned, by his own doing and his own choice, at his timeless moment of Ending.

When Life let go of his hand and Death kindly offered theirs, he did not take it.

And that's okay.

It took awhile. Talking to older ghosts. Most vague and vast, near formless. Because it's... it's scary. And it's all you know. All, really, you've EVER known. Inherent to your identity, even after you leave that part you behind.

You are "human". "Martian" or "Xy'xeruian", something else, and you never question it. Even when you've left behind everything ELSE. Your name, your eyes, your history and skin. Yet you fly around and pretend. Still alive, still human.

But is that YOU?

Or just the form you found your start in?

And like? It's okay if it IS! Sometimes, yeah, you ARE. You look down deep and find a "don't know what you were expecting, buddy" sign stapled to a mirror. But more often? It's that last hurdle. The final step in Letting Go.

Everyone mourns at their own pace.

And they are the ghosts of who they were.

It helped. Mourning for the kid he was. Who was fourteen and wanted to be an astronaut. Who died and will never have a grave. The longer he exsists, for he can't technically be called Alive, the more painfully young that child seems.

It was okay.

To cry for Danny Fenton.

Then? To let him go. Let his memory, be memory. And his Past be the grave that child rests in. Loved dearly and remembered, but no longer binding his soul.

He doesn't have to wear that face anymore.

No tributes to the Dead.

He got? Kinda... BIG. Like REALLY big. Spiraling, serpentine, cracking ice, and burning galaxies. Like a fourth dimensional dragon, of ice and stars, somehow forcing its way into a three dimensional space. Atop it all, between two vast, impossible horns? Made of glacial ice coating the warping hearts of black holes, who's shape themselves seem to shift in unknowable ways? There burns, like comet trails, with super novas, compressed to decorative gems beneath glittering morning frost, a Terrible Crown.

He? Thinks? He MIGHT have wings.

He can't tell.

Because APPARENTLY he's a fuckin tesseract! Oh, no, sorry. He might me a Zone DAMNED PENTERACT!!! Is THIS what he gets for hanging out with Clockwork all the time? He just liked the quiet! Now his "true form" is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL for most people to look at!

Clock Dad WHAT THE HELL?!

(You see, now, why Space broke up with him? An ASSHOLE)

So! Danny stays, usually at least, in his "Hi, yes, I am Normal Human Man" Ghost form. But NOW? Now it PINCHS. Because it's TOO SMALL. But hey, that's fine! It's not like he has an ingrained habit of transforming when super tired and stressed! To float sleep for Maximum Restfulness(tm).

Ha ha!

Why does that feel like foreshadowing?

BECAUSE IT IS!

Danny? Snoozing! Space? Has LOST THE BABY! Portals? Have done a Jood Gob in Portalling, something they are vaguely sure they are supposed to be doing! Yay them! They have no brain cells but still enjoy helping! They moved a thing! That's helpful right? Yay! Probably!

And on DC's planet Earth?

They? Just choked on their fuckin coffee. One moment? La dee daa~ oooh~ look! Stars! Deep space! Oh, hiiii~ Watchtower! The NEXT? *every alarm in the building starts LOSING ITS SHIT* Giant World OBLITERATING SHAPE completely takes up the screen.

From near PLUTO.

There are NO WORDS TO DISCRIBE HOW FUCK OFF BIG THIS THING IS, MR. PRESIDENT. It will eat our nukes and LAUGH. Call! EVERYBODY!!!

Obviously? Superman. I mean really, OF COURSE Superman. Frankly, all the Supers. Because we would like to KEEP having a planet, thanks. Only? The more reports that come in? The more everyone is getting "oh fuck. This is a Workd Eater" vibes.

A massive, massive, Sleeping Titan of a Planet Destroying World Eater.

That MIGHT BE MAGIC.

*highly stressed Everyone noises*

And WORSE? Superman? Can't TOUCH it! Oh sure, at FIRST he could! But then he apparently pushed too hard in just one spot! And it felt POKED AT. So now, after flicking superman HALFWAY BACK TO EARTH to make him stop? No one can physically touch it!

But! There is hope!

Because? The creature is GREEN. Bright, luminous, Lantern Green! And Earth's Lanterns have already sent for back up. Combined? The were able to move a... hand? Paw? Something. But! With the combine forces of several nearby sectors of Lanterns? They promise the power to either relocate the creature or at least hold it in orbit until FURTHER forces can be deployed!

They refuse to harm the creature until it proves actively hostile, as it could have been seeking a place to nap and chosen one inconvenient to established planetary life. Frankly? Earth doesn't CARE where you relocate the giant Eldritch Space Dragon. Just NOT IN OUR BACKYARD, PLEASE.

....YES WE ARE SURE! We don't CARE if the scientific community of our planet is begging you to set up an area for them to place an "observation satellite"! No giant Eldritch Space Dragons in our solar system! It might WAKE UP!

Naturally, about half way THROUGH this Highly Delicate Operation?

Danny Wakes Up.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation

[keferon]

Ok i said i would do itater, but this was done for my sister who got really hurt and wanted comfort out of my drabble, shout out to you @saltynsassy31 XD

This will probably be very OOC bc again, i am NOT too acquainted with these characters

So apologies in advance, but i think this will still be very entertaining for you :]

So yeah, here's part 2!

---

Jazz was tired, they haven't given him much time to rest since he came back. And even if they did, it's not like he could rest anyways, thinking about....about Prowl.

No way he could have just left him, right? After everything....it just didn't feel right, and the way they spoke to him about it too. Call him crazy but something in his gut told him they were hiding something from him. But it just never seemed enough to push him to look into it (oh how he would regret that for the rest of his life)

Today was supposed to be a normal routine check to the new mechas, with new recruits coming in for him to teach.

Jazz was given a new mecha suit, despite his protests to it (which surprised even him honestly, but it just didn't feel right). He hadn't gotten the chance to see it yet, today was the day they would present the new model, though it was said to be in its early stages still.

...

He doesn't know how it happened, how he'd gotten here, but all he knew was that he had seen red. When he gotten to see his new mech suit, it seemed oddly familiar in touch, in fact something about it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Small dents and scarring coated the plating around the panels that opened to the cockpit. He recognised that plating, from crawling on it with his magnets, sleeping on them comfortably despite being made of metal (there was something so warm about it, but that warmth was....lost. He wanted to puke). But what broke the string holding him together, a scar, a scar so familiar it sent him back to the exact moment he witnessed his partner getting it in the first place.

Jazz had weilded that shut himself, they had gotten in a bad scuffle a while back, and with worry he wanted to try and make sure Prowl wouldn't be in too much pain before they could get some proper help.

"Jazz?" Someone called out to him. That was the last thing he remembered.

Now? Now he stood by the halls in which they didn't allow the likes of him inside, the halls in which the scientists worked on. He made a fast dash to the last room, the room one of the scientists told him had the one he was looking for (though he wasn't proud to admit he had perhaps aggressively gotten that answer out of the poor guy). He had a weird unknown blaster weapon with him that he had ripped from the mech suit he was supposed to try out (deep down, he hoped that weapon didn't belong to Prowl. He hoped that he wasn't too late), using that, he blasted the door open hoping that would keep anyone from stopping him from getting inside.

As soon as Jazz layed his eyes on the scene before him; his partner hanging from wires holding him into place, chain keeping him from leaving, mutilated almost beyong recognition save his face, and with a small weak staticked cry from his partner, "Jazz?" the small bit of awarness he had gained back was gone again. All he could do in that moment was to yell, a desperate cry that came from the pits of his lungs.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!"

And in another flurry of motions he didn’t have complete control over, he was beating the ever living hell out of the prick who decided it was a good idea to mess with HIS partner! He didn’t even know how long he had been at it until the twisted man he called a boss scratched his face, small bits of blood flowing out. In shock and pain, he grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt and threw him to the otherside of the room. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be getting up again, he turned to face Prowl once more, running and calling out to him as he ran to scoop up his beloved's face, blurting out a mess of an apology.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-"

Oh did the guilt eat him up from the inside, he- he shouldn't have brought him here. Prowl probably hated him right now, but the sudden distant bell of an alarm down the halls had him scrambling to his feet to try and make things right.

Suddenly, as adrenaline slowly faded off, he realised how much damage he had actually taken throughout his rampage, a limp on his left leg catching up to him. Stinging pain on his face and limbs, but he needed to keep moving, they weren't safe yet.

"I have to get you to a safe place," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "and- and then maybe call for help. Oh but who could i even go to?" As he spoke, he started to set Prowl's limbs free from it's chains, gods they were so damaged, he could barely look at the missing parts. But as he worked his way through, he let out small sighs of relief to see that at least, he seemed to not be missing some vital parts. He could still maybe make a run for it, if only he could stall the facility long enough-

"You really shouldn't have...."

Jazz turned in shock, Prowl's voice snapping him out of his panicked haze.

"Prowl..." if he wasn’t crying already, now he certainly was. Gods he fucked up badly.

Not having the courage to face the other just yet, he turned back to the chained leg he had been working on. Prowl didn't seem to have wanted an answer either way, sitting up as he watched the organic do his work (Jazz tried to ignore the missing arm).

As he finished getting rid of the chain, he got up again, letting out a hiss of pain from his injuries (which did not go unnoticed by the mech). Clutching his left side as a bleeding cut let out a terrible stinging sensation which he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, he walked over to the final limb stuck under chains. As he walked over, he briefed over the quick plan he thought of

"Look, i- i know you might not trust me right now-" a huff, almost soundling like a disbeliefing chuckle, was heard from the mech, Jazz ignored it. "But there is a place you can go to and hide, hide- hide until maybe i can get help or- or find a way to send you back-"

"You wouldn't make it that far." Prowl spoke, matter of factly, which got a hit under Jazz's skin

"I know that! Which is why you will make a run for it. There's an exit by the other side of this room where you can leave-"

A sudden realisation hit Prowl. Jazz wasn't planning on coming with him.

And the human nodded, seeming to understand that Prowl finally got what he was saying. As he reached the last final screw to Prowl's chains, he finished off what he was trying to say "I'll keep them busy long enough for you to leave," before he could finish, as the final screw was let lose and Prowl was free to move, he felt himself be lift up from the ground and let out a startled yelp. "Wha- HEY!"

It took Jazz being shoved inside Prowl's cockpit for him to realise that he had been picked up by the mech (maybe a possible concussion he thought to himself). Jazz couldn't even try to jump out as, despite it missing the plating to shut him inside, Prowl placed his servo up to close to exit.

Desperately and confused, Jazz called out, "What are you doing?!"

To be entirely honest, Prowl wasn't sure himself, he was just as confused as the human to his actions, usually so full of logic. This one was acted apon pure emotion. Emotion of fear, anxiety, anger but most importantly

Desperation

Because somehow, this stupid human had his spark between his fingers, and he'd be dammed if he let him get himself killed just for him.

This isn't how he would want to say goodbye

---

Thanks again, to my sister who pushed me to write this, and also helped out in some parts!

Might have done more if i could, but it's super late rn lol (it's 4am and our mon will kills us for staying up this late).

Again sorry for any OOC moments, but i hope this was to your enjoyment! Maybe i can do a part 3 to this, but idk enough about how things work to do that, so i let anyone be free to mess around with this :]

Oh my... oh fuck I can't. I just keep thinking about Prowl pressing his palm on his chest even when other humans eventually get to him and start shooting. He's a mess, half of his armor is missing he's probably leaving an energon trail behind him. But he knows that while it would take a lot of bullets to take him down, it would take only one lucky bullet to kill Jazz. I'm. AUGh