#but alas. i must do what needs to be done

[ourflagmeansdeth]

pregaming the finale because i’m gonna be too critical of it if i don’t

[edens-pen]

think i've said this before but the only way i can heal my religious trauma is by writing the most disgusting blasphemous priest!corruption!church smut ever — choked with the rosary, holy water spat back into your mouth, dick sucking in the confessional, like this is what will make me right again i promise

[famewolf]

feeling a little burnt out tbh so I think I'm going to just try and relax as much as humanly possible to avoid crashing and burning like I usually do this time of year lmao

[swordscleric]

I love it when a meeting I expect to just basically be a rubber stamp/small discussion turns into basically a college lecture and then adds about an extra month onto my workload :))))))))

[goldsbitch]

Right? p6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

warning: smut

Life in formula was a fast one. But alas, there was finally a moment where a date had been set for your first official date indoors. Two week break between races provided a nice opportunity.

You were based in the UK, but one little Monaco trip didn't hurt anyone, right? No hotel room. Zero back up plan. It was strange how complicated it was for you two to get a moment for each other. You were not even sure what make of this little crush. Whatever. In the end it was a nice little trip.

So there you were, standing in front of an address he shared with you - casual elegant outfit, newly done hair and just a little bit of more than you got to do during busy work days. It was more for yourself than for Lando really. Everyone likes to feel like the it girl sometimes, right? This whole affair was a nice detour from the goal oriented life you lead every day.

There you were, standing in the open kitchen in Lando Norris's apartment. You could care less where the two of you were - as long as there we no prying eyes and you could look at each other with lust in your eyes without needing to hide anything. Teenage hormones overtaking the adult brains within milliseconds.

The looks. The random touches. The abnormal proximity. Nobody to hide from.

He ordered take out, as cooking was not a thing any one of you found to be interesting. He had obviously made some touch ups to the place, dimmed lights and all cleaned up, he had a nice elegant shirt on and the kind of messy hair that screamed "I actually spent an alarming amount of time on it". Both of you playing a little game, as if fooling each other was even an option at this point. Light innocent conversation felt like a like dance - who is going to break the rules first?

"Mr. Norris, this is all very nice," you pointed out, "but I believe we are here to review some photos."

He took a napkin to clean up his face and played the game along. "Oh, silly old me. Must have forgotten. Of course. To the screening room."

The two of you got up from the table, Lando's hand on your lower back and his cologne hitting you in the face in the best way possible. Oh why, oh why, why were you getting into this mess? You wanted to be taken into his arms like a naughty teenager kissing her classmate for the first time. Letting him guide you into pleasure. You finally explored how his skin covered his perfect face structure, there was nothing hiding his features. And unlike with your pictures, you could actually see how his jaw moved when he spoke, especially with the perfect light hitting him now. He got you. He understood your need to aesthetics. You could take a photo of his right there. Preferably without clothes hiding his body.

He turned his projector on. This was all part of the cat and mouse game.

"I need to see the pictures you have first. You owe it to me at this point."

He closed the distance between the two of you, looked you deep in the eyes, his blueish greenish ones filled with a need and after long minutes spent with a dinner, that none you actually wanted, he kissed you. Differently that ever before. This was tender, not slow, but somehow free. His soft lips caressed yours and you could have melted right then and there. Only then you understood why all the singers praised the first kiss - this felt like one. He was not afraid to explore, to observe your reaction and feel proud for making you feel that way. He was speaking to you in a language only touch could understand and his words were loud and clear - I want you. And there was absolutely no way either one you would wait a minute longer. Not after how he touched you at the gala. Not after all the meeting he had to sit with his dirty thoughts making it impossible for his to concentrate. Not after all the night you wished he was on top of you. Not after how you mesmerised him while taking photos of him. His hands grabbed your waist firmly, wrincling your dress and sending thunders through your body. You grabbed his hair, pushing him even closer, as it that was even possible. If desire was a color, there would be no other color present in the whole city. Your bodies seemed to understand each other, there were zero thoughts going into your movements. You roamed around his shoulders, he wandered off to touch your ass and slowly started to pushing you towards the couch. You never felt anything as comftable as this specific couch - but one would say it was Lando's body pressing on top of your that was the selling point. His chest touching your boobs, his waist pressed on your and you could feel his erect dick begging to be touched too. Hot blood flowing inside both of your bodies. You started working on unbuttoning his shirt and he smiled into your kiss, not having parted your lips since he first locked them with his. You knew he wanted to say something, so you stopped him by biting his lip and sticking your tongue into his mouth. All bets were off tonight, you both knew why you were there. So he helped you with his shirt, the with a swift motion got you out of your dress before you could even notice, and started working on his pants. It was all very quick, passionate and hard. This is not how you're suppose to be acting towards your team driver. You're not suppose to be fucking him. You're not suppose to be stroking his dick. Oh, but how good it felt to hold him in your hand. Finally, right? It will just be this one time, right? But if it was just this one time, you'd make it a good one. You didn't even know when he stuck his fingers into you, because they felt so natural, you might have thought they were always supposed to be there. Oh, but it felt good - so good - too good. You could have gotten of just with his light motion, but that was not in his plan for tonight. He watched you, being totally present in that moment, right there and then, and he got drunk on the way your body reacted to his actions. When he knew you were more than ready, he finally entered you and one could write a single chapter on how exctatic that felt to him. You were quickly put into some sort of trance, cause by his motion. It was like being on a different planet. In that moment the only thought you could gather was why the fuck did you ever had sex before meeting him and if your previous experiences could even count as such. You got locked in the moment, focusing only on his moves, closed eyes and having touch as the only source of your sensory receptors. He on the other hand let your soft moans in to get him going, moans that only seemed to get louder and higher with every minute that he fucked you. He moved faster, than slower, than faster again. He wanted to try different positions with your, but he wanted to take this view of you bounding under him, to his memory so desperately that he did not dare to endanger the moment you two had.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Time stopped being a reliable way to measure this moment. You came twice, he pulled out and came all over your chest. The two of you laid next to each to other, as much as the couch allowed, trying to catch your breath. There was only one thought on your mind. Fuck. How were you suppose to walk past him now?

You both were riding the pleasure high for few moments. Hearts slowing down, taking in what just happened after weeks of built up tension.

You stayed naked in each others embrace. You traced Lando's freckles, creating shapes and constellations. He was way less subtle and focused on light touches of your nipples. It felt fragile, tender and intimate. Pure contrast to the vibe you had just minutes prior.

"I know it's not ideal," he spoke softly. You froze, not knowing where he was heading with this. He noticed and continued immediately. "Not ideal because of McLaren and stuff." You nodded, not wanting to continue this conversation. But he did. "However...I am having a nice time. And I hope you're too," he waited for your answer, which only came in a nod. He gave you a weak smile. You just didn't feel safe yet and he understood. He leaned in to kiss you - at least that what you were expecting. Instead he stopped right before your lips and whispered. "I was promised some super secret photos, wasn't I?" You smiled, happy that the tension got broken again. Flirty was something you knew how to do with him. "Only if you show me yours too, sweetie." "Oh, I am so ready to dwell into the beauty the two of us are," he sighed and finally kissed you.

part 7

_______________________

@i-wish-this-was-me @lqvesoph @ophcelia @noneofyourfbusinessworld

[sporadicthingcollection]

Godemiché (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: Do you know it’s him that’s fucking you?

Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader

Rating: 🌶️ Explicit 🌶️

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: Dubcon elements, improper use of Devil Fruit powers.

A/N: i do not know what possessed me to write this.

———

It started as a joke. You, a sprightly young thing with twinkling eyes and a dirty sense of humor, unused to the close quarters that came with crewing on a ship. Him, a dirty old bastard with a detachable cock. He presented it to you in a soft cloth bag, grinning mischievously.

“Use it in the dark,” he said with a wink.

He didn't think you would. He thought he'd hear a scream in the middle of the night followed by you slapping him with it the next morning. He may have grown older, but he never really grew up.

But no.

What he feels that night, just as he's drifting off to sleep, is a delicate hand around his shaft. He jerks upright, head whipping around to catch the intruder and hand going to his crotch.

But there's nothing there, neither tackle nor intruder. He panics a moment, only to remember what he’d done and where it is.

It’s currently in your possession. And you’re using it.

The gentle prickle of hair tickles his shaft. You must be sliding it between your pussy lips. How’d you know he was weak for that? For a woman in her natural, unkempt state?

And then it grows warm and smooth and wet. He’s inside you. He feels your muscles shift as you take all of him, easing him in and out, getting him good and lubricated.

He almost chokes.

You’re already quite wet, and it slips and slides in and out with ease. Hot cunt, cool air. He grinds into the air, gasping with each distant thrust.

You grow slicker with each pump. Finally, you take him to the hilt, his entire cock sheathed inside your warmth. You clench him tight.

The air isn't enough. He groans and flips onto his belly. Grabbing a pillow, he mounts it like a dog in heat.

He squeezes his eyes shut. If he pretends, if he thinks real hard, it can be you. He is fucking you, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been dreaming of this since you climbed aboard — hell, even before that, when he first saw you milling about the docks.

Do you know? he wonders as his hips grind. Do you know it's him that’s fucking you?

Your walls flutter, pulling him deeper. You’re coming. And coming. And coming. Must have been a long one. He wishes he could see you fold and buck and your eyes screw shut and your breath hitch and—

He tries not to come. He tries so, so hard. But he fails.

Burying his face in the mattress, he whines your name, high and sweet as a cotton candy cloud. He grinds his hips into the pillow, praying that he’s dreaming and that he’ll open his eyes to see you underneath him.

But alas.

He empties fast and plummets back to Earth. Falling to the side, he reflects on what a pathetic, dirty old man he is.

He can't look you in the eye the next morning. Avoids you at breakfast. Dodges you all afternoon. But you corner him in the evening. Quite literally. He's in the aft hold when you get between him and the door.

Your hands darts out. In a few quick movements, you've undone his trousers and jerked them open. He's too stunned to even cover himself.

Pulling his waistband away from his body, you withdraw something from your pocket and drop it inside. He expects an ice cube. Or a firecracker. He braces himself for pain...

... But it doesn't come. Instead, his equipment returns to its rightful spot, a red silk ribbon tied in a bow adorning his shaft.

“You can have it back, but I’m gonna need that again soon,” you say. You give him a saucy wink and slip out the door.

Well. Seems like you did know.

———

To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar

[nmakii]

BURNT OUT

— love comes in different forms; some are passionate, and some are quiet. and, some loves are meant to burn out

— this is so me and my ex friends core xx

out of all the positions in hell to be, being the lover of the radio demon isn’t so bad. he’s quite the gentleman and very kind. he gives you everything you need— materialistic desires, home cooking with his own recipes, even his love.

but, his love— it doesn’t feel real. or moreso, it doesn’t feel genuine. from the people in your lives; love is supposed to be fiery, passionate, and strong. yet, alastor’s love is quiet, but undying. every touch gave you butterflies, yet there was no passion in his fingertips when he’d hold you close. he didn’t treat you differently from how he treats others, why? did he just not see you as worthy of special treatment? of his affection? as stupid as it sounds, you felt neglected and tossed aside like a little lost puppy.

still, you stayed. ‘he just doesn’t know how to show it, it’s okay.’ you always thought. and while true, it started to get harder to reason with the part of you desperate for his time, his story behind the man, his everything. you tried to reach out— hold him and let him be vulnerable, but he refused. after all, alastor is a dignified man, he wouldn’t cry in front of anyone. he has to always keep that calm demeanor of his.

in the end, you started to lash out, picking disagreements with alastor, because ‘if he’s arguing with me, he must care for me to some extent. right..?’. everyday, there’d be another small thing that you’d be angry at. and at the end of it all, everything blew up in your face when you yelled out those three words— ‘i hate you.’

you didn’t mean it, you don’t hate alastor. you just… yearn for him so much, it makes you angry. and, that in turn, makes you think you hate him. “do you now? what is it about me that you loathe so much?” alastor mused, raising an eyebrow at you.

“ugh!” you grunted, your mind running paces as you tried to think of something to say. “didn’t i tell you before, dear? i am a demon to my soul, no amount of love from you could ever change that.” he spat out, almost coldly. “well, you’re right! is that what you want to hear?!” you rolled your eyes. “you’re right, alastor! i couldn’t fix you, i shouldn’t have even fucking tried!” you glared at him, desperately hoping that he has something to say.

“are you done now?” he asked, tilting his head.

“no, i’m not done!” you stomped towards him, coldly staring him in the eye as you vented out all your frustrations. “is that all that matters to you— the fact that you’re right?! i fell in love with you, for god’s sake! you shouldn’t have said anything that would’ve gotten my hopes up if you were gonna let me down like this! i stayed because i thought you could learn to love, but again— you’re right, nothing can fix you!” you hissed out, tears starting to wet your face. “and, one day… someone will love me. and, that’ll make you regret losing me.” you sighed out, a weight falling off your chest, as if you’ve been freed from your shackles.

it was then that alastor held you against him, patting your back as he comforted you. yet still, it was as if he wasn’t there at all. it was faint and cold as his claws kept you close to him. “is that what has been troubling you, dear?” he asked. “no, it’s not just that. i’m done, alastor.” you sniffed through your tears. and from your words, he seemingly tensed. “why the sudden change of heart?” alastor asked.

you stared at him in disbelief, did he believe that after all you’ve said, this was just another quarrel? “for someone so smart and collected, you’re kind of stupid when it comes to this stuff.” you said. alastor sucked a breath through his teeth, as if holding his anger back. “i just can’t keep pretending we’ll work. it’s clear we’re not made to love each other, we both still have things from our past that we need to deal with. and, let’s face it— we can’t recover from this. we’re done.”

“i see.” alastor said, his tone uncharacteristically glum and cold despite the smile on his face. his grip on you loosened as he let you go. “you were a wonderful experience, alastor.” you sighed out. “i don’t… hate you at all, i was just angry. and even though we aren’t meant for each other, there’ll always be a part of me that loves you.”

alastor stared at you, amused by your words. “hm. well, that is just darling of you. i will still try to keep you alive, i suppose it is my job after all, ahahaha!” he laughed as you awkwardly stepped away from alastor’s touch.

and, though you yearn for each other, there’s no use in trying to ignite a flame that’s been burnt out.

[hotheadedhero]

In Unrequited Love - Part 3

AN: Hey, can I be sappy with y'all a moment? When I first started this story, I was admittedly pretty proud of what I came up with but I never anticipated the amount of love it would receive, so thank you everyone! <3 I also thank you for your patience, you have all been great 😋 With that said, I now bestow the conclusion to this renegade of emotion

Part 1 - Part 2

Donatello x Reader

Pathetic. That’s the one word that keeps ringing in your ears like echoes of a bug-infested cavern, the erratic scuttling serving loudly as your reminder. In no respect towards yourself, you are. All you have done since Casey escorted you back home is wallow in bed, tossing around the agonising reprieve that you are a love-strung puppy awaiting its next pat on the head. That’s why you’ve kept texting Donnie to a minimum; cut yourself off from the source and deal with the withdrawal symptoms. Doing this has you riddled with guilt but what else are you meant to do? Everybody loves somebody, right? But you don’t want to love anybody if it isn’t him. Perceivably dramatic, yes. After all, he is still a valued friend. Currently, the way you see it, it’s best to let yourself get over this puppy-dog sickness before that friendship can continue. Again, dramatic but the only logical option with April so tantalisingly strung in the picture.

Living a life of solitude hasn’t been all bad. For starters, you’ve been able to rest your ankle. Walking on it is still a fair challenge but it’s much more manageable than it was before. These past couple of days have also given you amble opportunity to reflect, as it were. It’s kind of easy to understand why one would fall for the resident bad boy in High School but a mutant turtle living in the sewers? No disrespect to Donnie, of course, but you’re just surprised. You don’t even think about all of that when you think of him. All that comes to mind is the heavenly warmth of his eyes; the soft care in them when you would help him out in the lab or when he’d be tending to one of your bumps. Euphoria’s temptress beckons you in once more in its rose-tinted glaze as you fantasise about some superfluous daydream involving him. The sweet melodies enrapture you in this cosy bubble as you curl up in bed but the sharp force of reality is swift and knocks you down before a peak is seized.

Perhaps trying to get over this infatuation isn’t quite going as planned. Groaning out into the open air, you throw a pillow into your face and continue your muffled whining. This is so unfair. Why can’t he be the one that you don’t want? You just can’t seem to escape the fact that you need him. In your state of disarray, you’ve even tried to figure out how to become the one that he thinks about. To try and curate him into being the other half of what you’ve never had. Closeness. A deeply set solitude that seemed so alien to you before you started hanging out with him. Time is slipping at this point. You swear you must be going crazy because of it. There have been a couple of nights when you swear something - someone - has been lingering outside your bedroom. Yet, when you get up to check, there’s nothing there. Part of you hopes that it’s your long-awaited love checking up on you whilst the other screams that you have indeed lost your mind. 

As it would turn out, you’re not as deluded as you might think yourself to be. Indeed, Donatello has tried many a time to meet you in person but to no avail. Many times he has attempted to knock on your window only for his courage to crawl back into the ground and, alas, he does the same by retreating to his home in the sewers. What is he meant to do? You hardly message him if at all these days. Considering the state of injuries you’d endure, he’s worried about you. He has every right to be worried about you. What more could happen to you whilst unsupervised? He doesn’t want to be overly protective but he has valid grounds for such concern. His only assurance that you’re alright is when he sees your shadow through your curtain at night but that isn’t enough. Of course, it isn’t enough. He wants to care for you and cater to your every need and undying whim. 

If only words could do him justice in articulating how he feels about you but he has never been so eloquently spoken unless it’s with regards to the sciences. He’s yours but you’re not his. He just wants you to be with him. If he had to - if he could - he would take the light out of the stars to help you see that. Anything for you to understand just how much he loves you. These spats of poetry are easy enough to site to himself but he knows he would tumble the moment he does as much as even consider reciting such lullabies to you.

Donnie leans over his desk, head in his hands, and sighs heavily for the umpteenth time this day, ever thankful that the streets have been quieter than usual. It’s not as though he can focus on much of anything. All surfaces of his brain have been overtaken and overruled by the thought of you. At this point, he doesn’t even care if nothing happens between the two of you. More so than anything, he just wants you back in the lair. It doesn’t matter if you’ll never be more than friends, he misses his lab partner. It isn’t as though he’s been particularly subtle in his grovelling, either. Figuring out that he had a crush on April was a no-brainer but this has been much more obvious and much more detrimental. His brothers can’t seem to get him out of this funk as much as they may try. Day in and day out, it’s the same thing: Donatello sulking in his lab, staring off into space and pretending to look busy on one of his gadgets. Desperate times call for desperate measures and if he needs a smack up the head, there’s only one person for the job. 

“Come on, Donnie, when are you gonna stop beating yourself up over this?” Raph asks, palming at the desk and resting his body weight against it. 

“Oh, yes, because I stand so much of a chance with (Y/n),” his brother remarks sarcastically. 

The shorter of the two shifts his attention elsewhere, lips turning to the side shamefully. He never wants to feel bad about poking fun or laying out the hard truths of their shared situation being mutants. The bitter contempt within his brother's voice is fair given the fits of teasing in concordance with the cold facts that mutants and humans can’t be. In hindsight, he and his brothers could have treated the situation with more care. Still, as brash as he can be, Raph hates to see a family member suffering as such. Whilst his methods aren’t all conventional, sometimes it’s necessary. 

Raphael huffs and rolls his eyes. “You know what you need?”

“For you to go away?”

“No,” he responds quickly, stifling the annoyance beneath bated breath, “what you need is to get your head out of this storm cloud. Sitting around and moping all day isn’t gonna change anything. So what if you don’t stand a chance? You won’t know until you try.”

“Thank you, Raphael, your input is valuable as always,” Donnie scorns rudely once more and exhales heavily. “I think I just want to be left alone.”

As heartbreaking as it is, such a wish can be respected, especially by the turtle that frequents isolated periods when he’s in a bad mood. Raph takes his leave and reconvenes with Casey for their night of watch duty. They sit atop an apartment roof, scathing the barren area for trouble that never seems to come. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before the main matter at hand becomes the point of conversation. 

“He just needs to take action,” Raph claims as he smacks a fist down into his palm. “I know we haven’t exactly been supportive but it’s eating him up. The sooner he gets it over with, the sooner he can be done with the whole thing.”

Casey’s cheeks puff up into his hands and he frowns, only for a wry grin to quickly take his lips. “Or, he just needs the expert to give him a helping hand.”

“Oh? You’ve changed your tune.”

“Hey, as long as he isn’t trying it on with Red, I’m all good.” Jones shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Now, watch a pro at work.”

Just a few blocks down from our duo lies your rotting form within the confines of your bedroom. It feels as though the space has somehow gotten smaller these last few days. You’ve chosen to spread eagle on the floor seeing as the bed has suddenly become uncomfortable, too. Rolling onto your side, you grab your phone and flick through your music, every song you pass turning out to either be a love song or something somber. Thanks, fate. Turning out to be a great ally here. You scroll a little longer in search of a distraction when a notification takes your attention. 

Hockey Junkie: Hows the ankle treatin ya, everyone in the lair misses u

It hasn’t been uncommon for any of the gang to message you but Casey being somewhat sentimental isn’t inherently natural. You suppose it was only a matter of time. You have been quiet for a short while now. If this has been good for anything, at least you know your friends care about you. It’s only fair that you halt your pitiful oath of silence. 

Nerd’s Assistant: I can walk on it fine but I might give it another day or two just to be sure Hockey Junkie: Playing safe, gotcha Hockey Junkie: Forget that crap tho, get your butt down here, the guys think ur dead

You huff a laugh to yourself and rest your weary head against your folded arm as you roll onto your stomach. In truth, you could have returned to the lair a couple of days ago but that sinking sensation sullies your stomach any time you contemplate the idea. All the more reason to stick to this seclusion. Without knowing what to say, you put your phone down and sigh into the carpet. The sweet melodies from your speaker are almost all-encompassing until your phone dings again. Then, again and for a third time before you decide to take a look.

Hockey Junkie: Look lemme be real with you Hockey Junkie: Gap tooth aint doing so hot right now Hockey Junkie: Can you at least give him a visit? Do it for your favorite classmate yeh?

The last cocky comment goes amiss with the main picture here. What’s wrong with Donnie and what has it got to do with you? All you can think on the matter is that he misses having someone to vent about April to. No, that isn’t fair to him. There’s more to him than just being madly infatuated with her. He’s a beautiful person of vision, albeit a little on the awkward side but that just makes him all the more adorable. Seeing as you haven’t replied to a lot of his texts, he must be bloated with a bad conscience. That must be what Casey is getting at. It takes some effort but you convince yourself that Donatello indeed misses his friendly assistant and that it’s high time you make a move. There goes your vow of distancing yourself. Goodbye, vegetative bed rotting.

Walking to the lair after so much time would be alien was the route not learned via muscle memory. There’s still an unsettling energy that becomes all the more poignant with every step you take but you’re putting that down to your nerves. You should probably text first; let him know that you’re coming but you’ve already made it to the large doors of his laboratory. As your fingers trace over the smooth metal, you think about the day that started this all - the day that would mark a start to something so unexpected that it almost doesn’t seem real. This is real. The alarming beat in your chest is all too loud for it to be a dream. It’s now or never. Taking a deep breath, you knock and pull one of the doors to the side, revealing the beaten-down turtle surrounded by unfinished projects and forgotten inventions alike.  

He slumps further and throws a hand up loosely. “I know you’re trying to help but I already said-” He stops speaking when he turns around and sees it’s you. 

You wave awkwardly with a just as clumsy smile to greet him. He springs up to his feet and bounds towards you, going in for a hug, only to stop himself just a few steps in front of you. That’s too much too soon. Your arrival is just so unexpected but by no means is it unwelcome. Many questions. There’s a lot he wants to ask and much more that he wants to say, like how much he’s missed you, how concerned he’s been, or please, never do that again. 

Instead, he says the only thing he can rationally think to, “How is the, uh, ankle doing?”

“Much better. Some positions still hurt but…” You do a little spin on the spot to demonstrate how much you’ve healed, laughing shortly. “... I can walk now at least.”

Donnie laughs as well, glad for that much. “So, no more injuries I need to worry about?” he asks playfully with raised brows. 

“Nah~” you resound melodically, winking with a waggishness. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”

Not a disappointment at all. Knowing you’re in good health, at least physically, is a huge relief. Between the shared chortling and the all-together prospect of dismantling the initial awkwardness, it’s great to have you back. It’s good to be back and you’re inwardly scolding yourself for depriving yourself of pleasant company. An aching heart can make you do stupid things and you’re about to realise just how stupid going quiet was. Donatello rubs the back of his head and seems to look everywhere but at you. 

“So how come you never messaged?” he asks slowly. “I got worried.”

There’s the guilt you had expected but you didn’t realise it would be so gut-wrenching. He’s trying to mitigate how hurt he was but it’s clear as day on his face. You contemplate reaching for him as extra consolation, finger flickering towards his. Instead, hold onto your forearm and tilt your head shamefully.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to worry anyone, especially not you. Just needed some time to myself, I think. You know, reflect on stuff.” Ah, he thinks to himself, Casey stuff no doubt. You blow off a cackle and shrug. “Without sounding like a complete pessimist, I think it’ll be easier to accept that no one could ever fall for me.”

You play it off as a joke - for the most part, that’s how you meant it - but he isn’t having that for a second. His hands jolt for your shoulders unexpectedly. Nothing follows and your wide eyes blink furiously with the abrupt action. 

“Donnie?”

Still, nothing. Gaze turned downwards, he just holds your shoulders, as though he’s thinking long and hard about something. He is. He’s thinking so very hard about this. Even the risk of making a fool of himself can’t scare him out of doing it now. There’s only so long he can carefully tread on this ice before it eventually breaks beneath him and swallows him whole. One might argue that’s not as bad as flat-out rejection but he doesn’t care anymore. It’s time to put those words to the test. 

He breathes deeply to collect himself, to avoid falling into a blubbering mess, and closes his eyes before getting straight to the point. “I know I could never stand any chance with you, as much as I like to pretend that I do, but I’d like it to be known at least. Even if you could never feel the same way, just know that you are loved - that you’re worth loving - and that… I’m in love with you. Don’t ever say stuff like that because it’s not true.”

All you can do is stare. Had he kept his eyes open, he would have witnessed your face shift into every conceivable expression whilst you tried to unpack what had just been said. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both could be an option were you not so stunned to the point of near incapacitation. The lack of response is jarring yet still, he can’t bring himself to look at you. 

“Oh my God,” you suddenly wheeze under a whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder, you’ll surely burst into tears. “Are you for real?” Confused, he goes to answer but you continue. “Donnie,” you breathe more weakly, “I have been hopelessly in love with you for weeks and now I’m hearing that you feel the same? In all this time where I’ve been in my own head. I just thought that- with April-” You cut yourself off and step back, jerking your shoulders away from his clutch. “No. There’s no way. This isn’t funny, Donnie. Just stop.”

There’s a brief period of chronostasis - a beautiful phenomenon in which time stills and he has the space to reflect on what has just sputtered from your mouth. He almost can’t believe it and, it seems, you can’t believe his own words either. He wants to jump with joy, spring with glee, and throw it in his brothers’ faces for ever doubting such circumstances. The overconfidence can wait. At this moment, it’s just the two of you with this air of reconciliation, though dampened by doubt. Your doubt. 

He holds a hand out to you only for it to clasp into a soft fist. It would be easy to act on the defensive but that wouldn’t amount to anything. If it’s evidence you seek, so he shall provide. He walks over to his desk and retrieves a small box - the same box that you had snooped on the other week, the one containing the quaint, little bracelet that is surely meant for April. That’s what you assumed, which is why your heart clenches tightly. He carefully takes it out of its packaging and fawns over it in a moment of vulnerability. You’re awaiting words of inclination towards the redhead but he remains silent. A green thumb skips over the turtle charm and Donatello outstretches his other hand to you. Wearily, you oblige and bestow yours to him. He cups the back of your hand and turns it over so that he may place the delicate-looking jewellery in your palm, making sure the charm is turned up on its backside. You frown at his peculiar behaviour, only to realise that something is inscribed on the turtle’s underbelly: your initials. 

When it all comes to light, your head turns up to meet him again. He’s glanced away shyly but there’s an awkward smile on his lips. One would think that this shared admittance is something to be celebrated with a fantastical display but it feels much too surreal. You have this horrible vision of waking up in your room, finding this to be another one of your crazed dreams. When he finally meets your stare, those fears vanish. Wild imagination or not, you could never replicate that warm glow of those maroon eyes. Even thoughts of being embarrassed about the tears in your own couldn’t ruin this moment. You fawn over the little bracelet again and shimmy it onto your wrist. The exchange is silent but there’s an ambient comfort: an unfamiliar familiarness that paves way between the two of you and closes the gap you’ve both been aching to be rid of. Neither of you is well-equipped with your words, so this alteration best suits the moment. Everything that has come to be may have been born from unrequited feelings for your friends but the birth place doesn’t matter. Value is held in each other’s happiness and simply loving one another unconditionally.

You lean up, lifting yourself on your good foot mostly, and kiss him on the cheek. His inelegant grin drops and you’re sure the tassels of his mask would have flickered up if they obtained sentient life. A primrose hue blossoms his face - one that you become well-acquainted with when he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead. With you both soaring ever higher, he pulls you into a long-awaited embrace, holding you close as your bodies transcend orbit and go off into the stars. 

Man, he sure does love being a turtle.

[todoroklee]

New arrival

Lee!alastor ler!lucifer

As of last week, lucifer had moved into the Hazbin Hotel! And whilst it was going amazing for everyone, Alastor wasn't so pleased with the whole situation. He thought that lucifer didn't need to be there because he already had a home, but Charlie was persistent, and how could he say no?

Alastor was just standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister, just watching husk and angel chat about their day. Suddenly, he heard something behind him, but he wasn't afraid so he just waited for it to show itself. And it did.

"Alastor! My man!" Lucifer yelled right to Alastors' ear, making him jerk to the side and rub his ear.

"Hello lucifer." He sighed, "what do you want?"

"Hey! There's no need to be so harsh, I just wanted to get to know ya a little better seeing as I'll be living here with you," he giggled.

"Hmm, no," Alastor said coldly, turning his back on lucifer.

"That's no way to speak to the king of Hell!"

"..." no reply from Alastor.

"Oh come on! You have to speak to me."

"..." once again, zero reply.

"Alastor!" Lucifer yelled again near his ear, forcing him to jerk away and rub his ear again. But alas, still no reply. As he had hoped, Lucifer was getting preeetty annoyed, so he took matters into his own hands, quite literally.

"You're just gonna ignore me, huh?" Still no reply, "Fine, let's see how long you last Mr Tough Guy"

Confused, Alastor went to look towards lucifer, but he was gone? Then, Alastor felt something scratching gently on his ear, making him go crazy.

Ah. Lucifer.

"What the fuhuck do you think you're dohoing?!"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know but quihit it!"

"I think it's cute! I've never heard you genuinely laugh before, this is adorable!"

"Excuhuse meHEHE?!" Alastors laughter went up an octave as lucifer went down, wiggling his fingers in the crook of his neck.

"Awww. Is your neck too ticklish? For a Radio Demon, I must say you are very ticklish!"

"STOHOP!" He laughed as he tried to cover his mouth but it was no use, his laughter was too loud.

"What happens if I go... here?" Suddenly, lucifers' hands shot down to Alastors ribs, making him squeal and collapse on the floor.

"Fuhuck yohou luhucifeher" He said, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"My God you are so fucking ticklish."

Alastors cheeks grew slightly red as he got up and brushed himself off.

"Shut up." He said, walking slowly away.

"Oh, I'm not done, Alastor!" Lucifer said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back, leading them both to the floor, the perfect position. They wrestled for a minute before lucifer ended up straddling Alastor by a quick poke to his ribs, giving him the advantage.

"Lucifer! Don't you dare."

"Oh, I dare"

Lucifer clawed his hands and vibrated them on the sides of Alastors ribs, targeting each individual bone.

"nohOHOHOHO!" Alastor shrieked and squirmed, but it was no help in trying to escape the tickly heaven hell.

Lucifer looked in awe. How could the meanest Radio Demon in town be so fucking adorable? His laugh was so bubbly and happy... He had a real smile on his face, not that copy pasted one, but a real. Happy. Smile.

"You are fucking adorable" Lucifer exclaimed as he watched Alastor get progressively more red in the face.

"SHUHUT UHUP!"

"Hm...no!"

"BIHITCH!"

*gasp* "you did not just call lucifer himself a bitch! I think you need some punishment." Lucifer unclawed his hands and removed them from alastors body, giving him a minute to breathe before pinning his arms with his knees and blowing raspberries all over his ribs whilst gently scribbling and scratching all over his neck.

This pretty quickly sent poor old Alastor into hysterics. The mixture of soft, gentle tickles and the vibrations of the raspberries were heaven torture for him.

"PLEHEASE!"

Alastor begged as his laughter went silent. At the plea, lucifer stopped instantly and got off him, sitting next to him.

Alastor was still a cute little puddle of giggles on the floor, trying to get rid of the ghost Tickles left over.

"Can I help?"

Alastor nodded and stayed still whilst lucifer rubbed all of the phantom Tickles away.

"You alright?"

"Yeah..."

"Did I go too hard?"

"No! It was uh...nice..." He said shyly as he brushed himself off and walked away for real this time but ran back upstairs and hid when he realised that everyone had watched him get his shit wrecked. In his books however, it was worth it. But he would NEVER tell lucifer.

Au: this took like fucking two hours 😭 I hope you guys like it because weirdly proud?

[barelylivingscholar]

Arlecchino with a daughter tw: unhealthy family relationships, manipulation, and gore(?), suicidal thoughts, unstable/mentally ill daughter. Not for the faint of heart, heavy angst, a somewhat positive ending in the last part(?) (Do not read if uncomfortable)

An: I am backkkkk, second semester and last semester’s finals kept me busyyyyyy but I’m here again to post some stufffffff!! Not hsr related but like I also write for Genshin now, apparently… Will post a part two, I guess? “Father. When am I able to hang around with the others? I have done everything that you’ve asked for.” A young girl asked, to which “Father” responds with, “You need to focus on the task in hand. I still have many more missions for you to do before I set you free.” The girl sighed, knowing very well that she may as well never be able to be allowed to play with the other kids… For a moment, the girl had wished that she wasn’t the only one to deal with this kind of burden. The burden being, the “successor” of “Father.” She wanted to play with the other kids as well, but alas, her father does not permit her to do so. Instead, excuses are made, and the standard Fatui discipline is instilled in her mind, always have to act proper and professional, not allowed to shed a tear, or to feel strong feelings regardless of what the matters are. I hate it here. I do not wish to stay here any longer. Every day feels like I am only made to be the person that “Father” wishes me to be. I am never truly happy. I am sinking. Father was not  family. This whole thing is and always was, a lie. Do I ever get to be free? Perhaps I can set myself free. There is a way.  ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶e̶̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶i̶̶s̶, ̶a̶̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶d̶̶o̶ ̶i̶̶t̶? --- After burning the corpse of their enemies, I return to the House of the Hearth, albeit bloody and face that is smudged of dirt, the smell of blood and gasoline lingers around me. With every passing servant, caretakers, and also children as well, unsettled and left shaken up at the sight of me. I stained the carpets red. I wonder if “Father” would notice as the carpet is in the same shade of the blood of her enemies…? Will she punish me and discipline me? Although words are exchanged, no form of physical harm done, I am still left isolated.  Like I am to be a monster kept away from people… I feel caged.

This time, I didn’t bother to clean up and went straight ahead to father’s office. Where I know I’ll be punished for such a careless mistake. “Father, I have returned.” I greet, looking to see her eyes staring straight at me. For once I don’t cower. I simply walk up to her and wait for her response. I have no reason to be scared, right? I don’t think I care anymore. Father’s eyes narrowed. The sight of blood that wasn’t mine, the smell of gasoline, in her eyes, I may as well be the filthiest child in the house. One that is simply, uncouth for the position of “successor.” “Why have you not followed protocol? Especially contingency 8? Have I not taught you well?” Her voice sharp, dissatisfied with my performance. It must be a surprise for her that her “successor” had become disobedient. What is she going to do to me, I wonder? Dispose of me? Or would she find someone else who is to succeed her as the “Father” of the House of the Hearth. “I… I have no other excuses.” I was unable to control my voice. It was shaky, wavering. I hate it. Father’s eyes seemed to had harden. I am interested with what is going to be the left of me once this is all over. I look forward to it. I want her to snap at me. Kill me. Foul words for a child like me, but this is what I planned. Maybe it is best that I sleep in eternal slumber instead rather than live a life full of misery. I have nothing to be grateful here. I am not thankful that I am still alive today. “…You are hereby stripped of the title “successor.” You are no longer worthy of the title. I am disappointed.” Is that it? No severe punishments? My mind raced; I was unable to comprehend why had she punished me in a way that is so… Little? Had she gone soft? I do not remember anything that made her want to punish me lightly. Don’t I deserve… More? My brows had furrowed. “Father” did not miss that. “Daughter… Are you, upset?” Her voice sounded confusing, to me. Why do you suddenly care? I don’t understand you at all. I do not feel safe at all. Are you really “family?” “…I’m fine.” I say, my voice a little tight. Unshed tears on my face, I am no fool. I do not need your love.

“You are now excused.” Never had I ever left her office so quickly after that. I had to get away…! I need to get out of here… I breathed heavily as I ran and ran… Until there is nowhere to go. The heavy snow had engulfed me. And soon… I was unconscious. I awoke to an unfamiliar place. This is not the House of the Hearth. I quickly got up, ignoring the sudden rush of blood shooting up due to how fast I went up. I ignore the throbbing pain on my forehead, I focused on my surroundings instead. Where am I? This place is… Different. I jolted as I felt a hand on my shoulder, immediately backing off and grabbing a hidden dagger in my boot. “Stay there! I will stab you!” I hissed. Glaring at the mysterious figure. They looked… Kind. I am not supposed to feel that way. There are no kind people in this world. Everyone I know will always lie to me, manipulate me for their gain. Just like “Father.” Just like them…

The stranger had knelt down and attempted to soothe me. I only responded with aggression and threats. They weren’t phased at all. “Who are you? I am no ordinary orphan! I am a murderer!” I shouted, clearly agitated. The man in a familiar coat had not reacted violently at all. I am confused. And angry. “I am Pantalone. “Regrator” from the Fatui. I assume you are one of the Knave’s lost children…” My eyes widened at the statement. He is no ordinary man… I should’ve known, I gritted my teeth and gripped my dagger tight. “I am not her orphan! I am no longer a part of that… I could care less if you are a part of the Fatui, I will die gladly in vain if I have to fight for my freedom!” I hissed. The man is amused. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “I have a better proposal for you, child.” “Regrator” inquired. I had not chosen to back down even at the prospect of an offer. “What makes you think I will take it?” I replied, gripping the dagger tight. “I will not surrender you to the Knave. Rather, I’ll take you in as my disciple.”

Disciple? Is this man sick in the head? Why would I agree to that? It seems “Regrator” had heard my thoughts, and so, he added, “Although, it is up to you if you would rather be surrendered back to the Knave… Or join me and I’ll give you a much better purpose, in life… Not that you have any choice on the matter if you decline my offer…” I had no sense of purpose to live for. I am merely an empty shell of what I was once. I have nothing to achieve… In the end, I don't have what it takes to truly end my life. So I will follow my new superior. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be easily obedient. I am rather mad.” And it was the start of something anew…  I had become, “Regrator’s disciple.” I wonder how “Knave” will react to such arrangements… An: Part two will include Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. There will be other characters who will be included as well but, part one's story was set before Lyney became the sucessor of the House of the Hearth. I am thinking of interesting ideas to write for this story and some alternate routes as well... We'll see once I whip up part two.

[gentrychild]

O great Owl and thou noble fic-finding rats I come because I have failed to find that which I need.

There is a work, apart of your Anyone universe, where Izuku is writing a Quirk Analysis Paper and he wakes AfO up so he can see a mutation quirk which enlarges AfO's arm. I have combed through all of Anyone and then through your side works that take place in this universe. But I found nothing.

The only thing I can think is that it was a tumblr post or a fanfic one of your blog mates wrote for you. But alas, I am still here.

In exchange I swear that if my firstborn ever starts stealing quirks I will buy all the therapists, and if that fails I will leave him to your fic-finders with no rivers in sight. And they may nibble on him for all of forever.

With reverence and sincerity, -me

I have some bad news and good news for you. The bad news is that his is something I wrote and posted on Tumblr, and you will never find it again even if you scroll through the entire Anyone tag. The good news is that you must be especially lucky as I found it by pure luck in a file I had forgotten.

----------

Izuku, sitting on his bed, books and notebooks opened on all of its surface, clicked his pen. Once, twice, thrice, the sound echoing in the silent apartment without doing anything to bring the answer the teenager desperately needed.

Usually, deadlines weren’t a problem for him. For some obscure reasons, the teachers in his high school were trusting him no matter what he did and forging his mom’s signatures to excuse his many absences had become the routine. However, he needed to finish this paper for tomorrow morning, so Hebisuga could read it and save her grade in Meta Analysis. That way, she would stop worrying so much about this subject, focus back on her Japanese, and write once again her ridiculously good flash cards that she always accepted to share with Yuuto and him.

But right now… Izuku’s brain just wasn’t cooperating.

He got up, his back protesting as he stopped hunching over for the first time in a couple of hours, and he left his bedroom. His notebook in hand, he walked past the bathroom and knocked at the door of the master bedroom, currently invaded by the bane of his existence while his blissfully ignorant mother was away.

The door opened in the second, All for One appearing in front of him, his hair messy and his face showing the trace of the pillow but no sign of sleepiness. The villain was one of those persons who immediately passed from sleep to alertness while Izuku needed three cups of coffee to be semi-conscious.

“What is it?” the villain asked. “Did you-“

“Show me your mutation quirks, please. Preferably the one that can offer some kind of protection.”

“What makes you think that-“                                                                       

Izuku clicked his pen once again and just stared at the quirk-stealing-fiend.

All for One finally obliged, making his arm grow in size, muscles growing until it had gruesomely swollen up, and he even added some spear-like bones. Bewildered, he answered every questions Izuku had about the drawbacks, the weight, how much he could still move his arm, and so on.

Because if analyzing quirks was his passion and could become a job, words in a book didn’t mean anything to Izuku. He needed to ask questions, to make theories, to see them in action.

Once he was done and had all the elements he needed, he thanked All for One and walked back to his room without offering any explanation. But of course, his roommate didn’t need one.

“Did you just use me to finish your homework? At three AM?”

[avalynlestrange]

Foolish One

Theodore Nott x reader, Draco Malfoy x reader (Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson in the background)

Reader: she/her pronouns, half-blood or muggleborn, no house mentioned, really loves sweets, desserts and kittens

Warnings: Toxic situationship, cheating, mentions of death, mentions of drinking

Category: Angst, unrequited love, best friends to lovers?, no use of y/n, short story, one-shot, songfic

Summary: In which you know you’re being foolish in liking Draco but will you finally learn your lesson? Theodore certainly hopes you do.

“Listen.” Theodore puts the book he was reading down to look at you and say, “Your cards are on the table, his are in his hands. Maybe you need to distance yourself. You’re just going to get hurt.” You ignore Theo and continue to think aloud, “Chances are, tonight, he’s already got plans.”

Author’s Note: This is my first ever fiction for a long time. Please be kind. English is not my first language and I’ve tried to proofread as best as I can.

Word Count: 6k

To The Library (Main Masterlist) To The Kitchen (WIPs) To Speak Now TV Anthology To more Theodore Nott fics To more Draco Malfoy fics

It was nearly the weekend. You had left Draco a note earlier this week in your usual secret spot to send each other messages but alas you had received no reply. Here you are on a Friday night, on the floor of an empty corridor, staring at a blank stone wall.

“Maybe he just hasn’t checked it yet.”

“Or he’s ignored it.” Your best friend, Theodore, replies.

“Maybe he hasn’t had time to read it alone.”

Theodore sighs, “This isn’t the first time he hasn’t responded to one of your little love notes.”

You toss a pebble your finger found across the hallway, and say, “It’s not his fault that his parents wouldn’t approve of me. He has to keep us a secret even to his circle.”

“Listen.” Theodore puts the book he was reading down to look at you and say, “Your cards are on the table, his are in his hands. Maybe you need to distance yourself. You’re just going to get hurt.”

You ignore Theo and continue to think aloud, “Chances are, tonight, he’s already got plans.”

You shuffle and lie down on his lap while he carries on trying to read his book. You turn your head to look along the corridor. No sign of Draco coming to find you.

“He’s probably at a party. Wasn’t there a friendly game of quidditch with Ravenclaw earlier Teddy?”

“I don’t know.”

“He must be at an after-party or some sort. Do you know if the Slytherins are throwing a party this evening?” You ask, gently moving Theo’s book away from his face.

“I don’t know.”

“You must do. You’re friends, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.” His tone now has a hint of annoyance, lifting his book up once more.

“Okay then.” You huff. You decide to pick up your book. It wasn’t a rare activity, you and Theo reading together. Not always in the corridor. Often times in your dorm rooms. Often times in the common room. You were fond of each other’s company. It was something you’ve always done since you were children. Mr. Nott used to leave Theo at yours ever since Theo’s mother passed away. Your mother was a governess, and your family had a history of serving the Nott family.

It continued during your acceptance to Hogwarts. You both liked being one of the earliest students for breakfast to have a chance to read and eat and finding a spot in the library devoid of the sound of scribbling quills. The two of you sometimes even stay during the winter holidays as it was a lot more peaceful and merry than being at home.

You read in silence for a chapter and began talking again where you left off.

“Chances are he is at a party, and you know he hates it when I show up. Says it distracts him.”

Theodore groans.

And chances are you will talk yourself to sleep again.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

It was the next morning and there you were in the great hall. Preparing tea for Theo and yourself. Theo instinctively passes you the sugar bowl. 

“What are your plans for today then?” He asks as he pours a splash of milk into your cup.

“I’m not sure yet. We do have that essay due for History of Magic on Tuesday.” You say as you hear a group of people joining your table.

“Morning Nott.” Draco says as he sits down opposite you. He greets you a good morning by nodding your way.

“Good morning, Draco.” Your eyes quickly flicker up and down from him to your breakfast trying not to look Draco in the eyes. You could never look at the silver pair for too long and not blush, so you best kept your glancing to a minimum when you’re in a group setting. You find it difficult as you are sat directly opposite him.

Draco gestures to the sugar bowl next to your teacup and asks you, “Pass me the sugar.”

You feel your cheeks getting hot as his hands brushes against yours as you hand him his requested item. It’s little moments like this that make you forget when he fails to seek you out that week. You are reminded of his little nickname of ‘sweet thing’ for you during secret rendezvous in vacant classrooms.

Throughout breakfast, Draco chats normally to his crowd. Occasionally you see him with his eyes on you and you lock gazes for no longer than two seconds before looking away. His leg touches yours now and then.

He gives you just enough attention like this in public to keep your hopes too high. What’s more, is that you get these wishful thoughts that these moments could be longer and known by everyone. But wishful thoughts forget to mention when something's really not right and you will block out these voices of reason in your head.

And the voices say, ‘You are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson.’

You shake your head, physically shaking these voices out of your head.

“You okay?” Theodore asks.

You assure him and yourself that you are, with a weak smile.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Later that day you briskly walk towards the loose stone that is your ‘Draco mailbox’ and pry it off, but like the day before: still nothing.

You hear a voice in your head telling you, ‘Foolish one. Stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love that ain't never gonna come. This will not end well. You will take the long way down.’

He knows how to keep you waiting. He did mention something about a group hang earlier during breakfast. Nevertheless, you know better than to show up when you weren’t directly invited. That happened one time during Summer last year when his group decided to celebrate finishing their O.W.L.s, and later that day Draco raised his voice at you in a broom closet for showing up uninvited claiming that the group might see it as suspicious. He, of course, apologised for shouting when he saw tears in your eyes, but you never got a single letter from him during the two-month break.

Yes, it’s best if you just waited for him to answer with a time and date. You sigh and walk to the library. You politely ask Madam Pince for a quill, ink, and parchment. She clicked her tongue at your lack of equipment but let you off this time since you are a prefect, and this was the first time you came to the library unprepared. With your head down you walk over to find the textbook you needed and sit at the nearest empty table.

You hear the stool next to you move and see a smiling Theodore.

“This seat taken?”

You shake your head, and he sits down. You continue to flip the book to a relevant page but don’t see that Theo was scanning your demeanour. His eyebrows furrowed. ‘This could only mean one thing’, he thought to himself. 

As if you could sense Theodore’s next question, you turn to him with a smile pasted on your face, “I am fine Teddy! Stop looking at me like that!”

You feign a giggle. You know how to act like you’re fine. You change the conversation and the afternoon felt lighter. Whispered jokes and snickers were exchanged for hours between you and the boy with the chestnut hair. It was always like that with Theo. He always knew how to brighten up your day. 

“Well thank you, Teddy. Now it’s nearly curfew and I’ve only written less than half a parchment.”

“Hey! You’re the one distracting yourself. I’ve written at least one piece.” You roll your eyes, grinning at Theodore tickling your nose with his quill. That’s when you see the scene. Draco walked past hand in hand with a red-faced Pansy Parkinson. Your eyes meet with Draco, and he quickens his pace out of your vision.

“That worthless pile of erumpent dung!” Theo curses. He knew this whole thing between you and Draco was wrong in the first place, but he never voiced his opinion so as to not come across as jealous. Merlin knows how Theo was, and is, very green and is slowly rotting on the inside.

But he loves seeing you beam when you talk about your dates, that he tunes out the details of your escapades and absorbs the beautiful shade of pink flush on your cheeks and glimmer in your eyes. At this moment in time, however, his heart aches at the sight of the scarlet pout of your lips and your eyes welling up. “I thought you two were on the same page of exclusively dating!”

“We… never actually agreed on anything like that. I… I don’t know what to call this situation.” You quickly roll your homework and inhale deeply to keep the tears at bay. There must be an explanation for the sight you had just witnessed.

‘But I know I can’t call you mine. So, I will grit my teeth and I will do my best to seem bulletproof.’ At the thought, another inhale, you suggest, “How about a butterbeer break?”

And Theodore can’t say no to that.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

That evening you couldn’t help but walk along the hallway you know like the back of your hand.  By instinct, you stop at the stone and spot that it was a little ajar.

‘Meet me at the boathouse at Midnight. - D’

There it was. You feel an emotion somewhere between merry and misery. You settle for nauseous and blame it on the six butterbeers you consumed earlier at the Three Broomsticks with Theo. You decide to start walking there now. A few hours of fresh air could be good. Yes. A breath of crisp autumn air is what you need to expel this uneasiness in your chest.

“You’re early.” You hear when you reached the doorway of the boathouse. Draco sat at the edge of the ledge, his bare feet in the water.

“I could say the same thing to you.” A little bitterness in your pitch.

He pats the space adjacent to him and you sit cross-legged. The air is cold and the rippling waters in front of you hypnotise your heartbeat to calm down.

You both start to say something, then cut each other off to ask the other to continue.

“It’s not what you think.” Draco pauses. “What you saw earlier in the library. Pansy threatened to tell my father about the secret girl I was seeing and that I was to take her to Hogsmeade and buy her all the sweets she wants from Zonko’s.”

He reaches for his robes.

“Here. I got this for you.” He passes you a bag wrapped with a ribbon. “Sweet things for my sweet thing.”

You thank him as you accept his gift. You start munching on the sweets and offer him some.

“Does she know it’s me?” Your voice is a little too wishful than you hoped it would come out.

“No! Thank Merlin! My father will have my head if he hears I’m not seeing a pureblood.”

It hurts a little when you hear him explain time and again why you have to be a secret. But it doesn't bother you as much 'cause when your head is on his shoulder, it starts thinkin' he'll come around. And maybe, someday, when you’re older, this is something you'll laugh about, over coffee every mornin' while he’s reading the news.

You and Draco stay in the boathouse, telling each other what you were up to during the holidays, aiming candy at each other’s mouths, holding hands, and giving the other soft kisses in the light of the moon until it’s a little too cold and too late to continue.

“When can I see you next?” You ask.

He lets go of your hand as you reach the entryway.

“I’ll let you know.”

You nod and walk to your dorm. You were sure that you were going to see Draco again in hushed hours like this one.

But then the voices say, ‘You are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson'

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Throughout the week, you were too preoccupied with checking for a note from Draco and stealing glances here and there that you fail to notice that your duo had become a trio. Daphne Greengrass had been hanging around you and Theo recently and you only are aware of her presence at this moment when your usual quiet bookworm is talking during breakfast, but not to you.

“It’s the first match of the season later. Would you like to watch the Quidditch in the afternoon with me?” Daphne suggests, her hand reaching for Theo’s arm.

“Sure.” The boy replies.

“Who are you and what have you done to my Teddy?” You laugh, “We have never watched a single game!”

It was true. Even if Draco was on the Slytherin team and invited you to watch once, since most of the school attends it anyways, you refused given that you and Theo had a tradition of having a picnic and playing Scrabble by the Black Lake. You two were never interested in sports.

“You’re more than welcome to join us.” Daphne proposed. You realise her hand was still on Theo’s arm and this somewhat makes you frown.

“Theo and I already have plans.” You stated, now reaching for his other arm, “Don’t we Teddy?”

“We can do that tomorrow instead. I am quite curious as to what all the fuss is about, aren’t you?”

“But we have never cancelled our… plans before. Even that one time you had a cold, you insisted we hang out. It’s our tradition.”

“I don’t mean to impose. If you’re busy Theo, we can hang out at Hogsmeade in the evening instead.” She says, her hand still lingering on Theo’s arm, so you have an urge not to move yours either.

“We can do both.” He accepts and his head turns to you, “Are you coming with us?”

You don’t know what to say. A swirl of emotions runs through your veins.

“No.” And with that, you stomp off to your dorm.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

You saw Theo less and less that week and you start to spend more time with your dorm mates. You start to miss him. He wasn’t as early to breakfast every day and when he was, Daphne and other Slytherins came in with him. Your study meetings turned into group hangs but you didn’t mind it as much you said to yourself since Draco was part of that group.

However, your eyes were not gazing upon the blond boy but at the chestnut hair boy with his newfound friend.

Why didn’t you like Daphne with Theodore?

You made an effort to look away when you see him smiling at her. You felt your teeth clench whenever Daphne playfully slapped Theo’s arm when she was laughing at something he said. Your hands were in fists when she linked her arm with his when you all walked from class to class.

You don’t understand what you are feeling. You can’t be jealous about your best friend being interested in other girls. You decide you were just feeling a little replaced. That was it, and nothing more. Right?

But what really blew your top was what you were hearing now.

“Yeah, we can go watch the quidditch game tomorrow.”

“Again?” You exclaim but then remembered you were in the library and carry on with a whisper, “You’ve cancelled on me the last game!”

“Oh yeah” Theo replies as if he didn’t remember. When in all honesty, he never did forget. He was trying to distance himself away from you to lessen the aching of his heart.

“Teddy you can’t do this to me.”

“How about I make it up to you by taking you to the last Hogsmeade trip and buying you all the sweets you want so you can stock up for the winter break.” He smiles and when you smile back, he forgets about his vow to himself to spend less time with you.

You hesitate to say yes. You really want to be with him by the lake.

“And I’ll even let you drag me around to window shop to all the places you want me to.”

And you can’t say no to that.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Amidst all the happenings, you had forgotten to check your mailbox. You see a scrap of paper telling you to meet at the boathouse once again at midnight and this time you choose to be punctual. You dress up a little to make up for the fact that you might have already missed the actual date the note was meant for.

You are already on the steps going down to your meeting place when the clock chimes 12 o’clock. A chill runs through your body as you were not wearing your winter jacket but a cute, albeit thin, jumper. You were walking with a skip in your step when you hear her.

“Draco, what about your secret girl?”

“She means nothing to me. It’s not like we were going to get serious.”

You halt just before the entryway.

“But weren’t you dating her since last year?”

“Dating is a strong word. Now shut up so I can kiss those lips.”

So you run. As fast as your feet can take you and go into the nearest empty room.

Now you’re slidin' down the wall with your head in your hands sayin', "How could I not see the signs?"

He hadn't written you or called all summer and the voices in your head are tellin' you why,

‘He’s got her on his arm and you in the wings. You’ll get his longing glances, but she'll get his ring. And he will say he had the best of intentions.’

And maybe now you will finally learn your lesson.

The air feels thick that you can’t breathe and your vision blurs with the waterworks flowing out of your tear ducts.

Draco was right. You were never going to get serious. You knew this deep down and felt it in your heart every time you were with him, but the truth hurts when the reality of it all is said aloud.

When you finally get to your room at 3am. You don’t bother to change and sleep your troubles away.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

You skipped lessons that day. You hadn’t meant to, but you woke up past noon and there were only two lessons left that you resolved to miss those too and went back to sleep. You weren’t ready to face people yet.

A pounding in your head awakens you and makes you sit up and reach for your water bottle by your bedside table but see a plate of pastries covered in cling film and a note stuck on top.

‘I didn’t see you at breakfast. I asked your dorm mate to send this to you. – Teddy’

That was sweet of him. Theo never fails to be there when it counted. You notice more items on your bedside table. You see a thermos flask, a book, a wrapped-up sandwich, a couple of more notes, and a red concoction in a small vial that was labelled ‘pepperup potion’.

‘I didn’t see you in class, so I asked Alison to drop this off to you. She said you didn’t look too well. I’ll see you at lunch? – Teddy’

‘I didn’t see you at lunch. Alison said your eyes looked puffy. Do you have a cold? If so I asked her to bring you some supplies. Make sure to take it. I’ll see you after class? – Teddy’

‘I don’t know why I thought I’d see you in any of the afternoon lessons today. How silly of me. I need to sort out a few things and I’ll see you before dinner. – Teddy’

You giggle at how much effort your best friend had gone towards to ensure you are okay. The clock above the doorway says 5 o’clock. Only an hour after classes and Teddy will probably expect you around 5:45pm so you can lounge about the courtyard before dinner time.

However, you felt famished, so you open the selection of breakfast pastries. Theo had picked out all your favourites. He’s always thoughtful like that. One time, you had mentioned your favourite book series with him and within the week he read all of them and bought you both the newly released novel by the same author so you can read it together.

Another time when you used to have recurring nightmares when you were little, you’d go to Theo and he’d read you passages from fairytales until you fell asleep. When you broke your foot during the second year, he insisted that he carried all your books to and from classes even though a simple levitation charm would do, and walk in front of you so no one barges you causing you to trip.

You really don’t know what you’d do without Theodore in your life.

You hear a knock on the door.

“Alison you can come in. You don’t need to knock.”

The door creaks open.

“I’m not Alison.” Theodore peeps in, his eyes on the ceiling. “Can I come in?”

“Of course. Thank you for your care package.” You move to make room for him on your bed.

“Of course. Couldn’t have you starve yourself.” He looks to your bedside table and states, “You didn’t drink the potion I made for you. It’s supposed to clear up your cold.”

He stood there by the end of your bed, his hands behind his frame. He looks cautiously at you.

“I’m not ill.” You assure him.

“Good, because…”  He raises a basket and a tote bag. “I’ve brought us Scrabble and a picnic.”

“But aren’t you going to see the match with Daphne?”

“Not when my favourite girl isn’t feeling well.”

You smile up at him. “But I told you I’m not unwell.”

“Physically maybe but I think you need some fresh air. Now go get ready. I’ll wait outside the door.”

“I really am okay.”

You assure him and yourself that you are, and you truly do feel it.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Your normal routine before Draco came into your life fell back into place, although Theodore was hanging out with Daphne more and more, which still annoyed you. Theo did make some time for you but not as much as you’re used to. You sigh. Breakfasts no longer consisted of silently reading, occasionally speaking to discuss plot points and characters, but with Daphne and the rest of the Slytherin crowd rowdily talking.

You hadn’t spoken to Draco at all ever since that night at the boathouse. He never even addressed it. Not that you checked the mailbox. If he really cared he would have said something by this point, but judging by his actions and the words you heard that night, you had accepted weeks ago that whatever was between you was over.

“So, what are we all doing for the last trip to Hogsmeade today then?” Draco asks, but his eyes lock with yours.

“I’m having tea and shopping with the girlies.” Daphne wriggles her shoulders excitedly. She looks to you and extends an invitation.

To which you thank her but decline politely, “Teddy promised me a full weekend of sweets and shopping. Isn’t that right Teddy?”

You aren’t sure if it is your imagination, but you see a twinkle in Theo’s eyes as he beams at you confirming your plans. You put your arm through his and squeeze it in excitement.

Theo chuckled. “I already regret adding the window-shopping part.”

You head to your dorm to pick up your cardigan as Theo insisted you needed more layers for the winter weather. A figure stops you in your tracks.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for Nott.” Draco sneered.

“Not really your business to know who or who I don’t have a thing for Malfoy.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you to the side.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You try to shrug off his hand, but he wasn’t letting go.

“What happened to us? I thought we were dating, and you left me hanging for weeks.”

“Dating is a strong word.” You spit his words back to him like venom.

That’s when he releases your hand.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Your day with Theo went by so fast. You started off at Zonko’s so you can graze snacks while you peruse through each shop. Theo swears you haven’t skipped any stores but doesn’t complain at all. The conversations flowed easily. You stayed the longest time at the pets and familiars shop to pet all the kittens. He literally had to drag you away with a bribe of pumpkin pie for lunch.

Many days have gone by where you spent time away from each other. Reasons varied as Theo tells you he was busy with whatever excuse he had that day. You noticed that he’d been avoiding you recently. You’re glad that you get to make up for all those hours now.

You share a slice of pumpkin pie and beg Theo to take you back to the pets and familiars shop. He rolls his eyes, but you know he can’t refuse the thought of the adorable kittens. Little do you know that it’s your cuteness he can’t resist.

The two of you start to walk onward to your mission when you see a glimpse of Draco hand in hand with a red-faced Pansy. You knew it. But strangely, you find yourself not upset by it.

“Theo! They still have our favourite!” You jump up and down like a child outside a toy store.

He watches you smiling as you all but ran into the store. You remain surrounded by kittens until a shop assistant ushered you out at the behest of their manager. Reluctantly you say goodbye to the animals and staff and are shocked to see that the sky was magenta-coloured, signalling that the evening is arriving.

 “I’m hungry, are you?” You inspect all the choices of venue you had for dinner.

“Starving. Let’s go in there.” He gestures toward Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. “I heard they have a great selection of drinks and desserts.”

You follow Theo even though you seem to recall that other students have previously mentioned that they take their dates there. Having never visited since Draco was the first boy you have “gone out with”, and your meetings never involved crowded places and three would have been a crowd, you were excited to finally step into the dainty looking café.

He opens the door for you and a bell rings. You were seated straight away, and it didn’t take long for a staff member to take your order. Examining the people around, you notice a trend of couples holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes. Did Theo really mean to take you in here?

Detecting your initial discomfort, Theo apologises, “I didn’t know it would be like this here. We can leave if you want?”

“Nonsense! It’s a nice place. Plus, I’m excited for my drink to arrive.” Grinning at him, you take in the view of bows and lace everywhere.

Even though the atmosphere was romantic, you felt at ease being there with Theo. You push back questions you had whenever you sense that his eyes were trying to read your thoughts or when his hand stayed on yours longer than friends should.

He orders a funfetti cake for dessert and you both split each other’s sweet course. Before you know it, it was nearly time to head back to the castle. Another ring of the bell and you were standing in front of the entrance.

You shiver slightly and Theo quickly unwraps his scarf.

“Teddy I’m fine!”

“No, you’re cold. Don’t argue.” He wraps his green scarf around your neck. You inhale the scent of smoke and sandalwood. You bury your cheeks into the scarf to hide the pink colour threatening to expose how much you like the fact you are enveloped by a piece of his clothing.

“I guess it’s time to head back.” You say but see Theo looking distracted.

You look up to see a mistletoe wrapped with a ribbon on the pole of the tea shop’s sign.

He looks at you and tilts his head. Was that him asking for permission?

You shrug then nod at him. “It’s a known tradition after all.”

“Of course.”

Theo leans in close enough so that the clouds you exhale from your lungs mingle in the air. He moves a strand of loose hair and tucks them behind your ear. His hand stays on your face and his eyes flicker down to your lips. You close the gap between you.

You are kissing Theo under the mistletoe.

At first, the kiss is gentle as if he is being wary of the line you were crossing, but when you reach to run his hair with your hands, he pulls you in deeper. You gasp for air, and he takes it as an opportunity to explore you with his tongue.

Thoughts pull you back to reality.

You are kissing Theo under the mistletoe.

Stepping back, you stare at him wide-eyed.

“I have to go.” You say breaking the silence.

And you didn’t see how Theodore’s eyes follow you.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

You didn’t actually have to go anywhere; you just needed some space to cool down. Your cheeks were burning red, and you didn’t want Theo to see you like that. Especially since he only kissed you because of the mistletoe. Especially since you enjoyed kissing him. Especially when the voices in your head are back saying, ‘Foolish one you will take the long way down.’

This time you don’t want to learn the hard way. You can’t be falling for him like this. You didn’t want to lose him if it goes sour.

“You’ve been walking in circles.” Theo calls out to you, “Where are you trying to go?”

You stop your feet but don’t turn back to face him.

“I was just heading to…” Your voice fades out to a mumble, and you begin to walk once more.

Theo lightly grasps your arm, and you jump at how fast he caught up to you. You face him.

“You never said anything.” He states.

“It was just a kiss. We were just under a mistletoe.” You look down, kicking the pebbles near your feet.

“You never said anything.” You echo.

“Yeah, we were just under a mistletoe.”

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The last week of term dragged on. Theo and you never mention that night to anybody. And if it was even possible, you saw him less than the week before. You are determined to fix your situation. The past two days were unbearable. So, you corner him on his way to the library.

“Why are you ignoring me, Teddy?” You simply question.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You keep avoiding me in the halls and speaking monosyllabically to me in class. Why?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. We’re friends, aren’t we? Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” You ask, gently moving his arm and motioning him to face you.

“Maybe I want more.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so blind, you can’t even see that I’ve been right here! In love with you since I could remember.”

“Your father would never approve of me.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care about your blood status! I accept you for who you are! But waiting all these years for you to see me like I see you have been crushing my heart slowly.”

You stare at him wide-eyed.

“I have to go.” He says.

And it’s your turn to follow Theo with your eyes.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

You couldn’t sleep at all that night replaying Theo’s confession. You think about all the ways you could have responded and use that moment as a chance for you to voice out your growing feelings. Now he probably despises you.

You recite how you were going to confront Theo for the next day, word for word since you want to accurately tell him that you reciprocate his sentiment. But toss and turn again at the thought of what-ifs.

You get up early and ready yourself for the day mentally. You don’t grab any breakfast because you already felt so queasy. The voices in your head say to you, ‘Foolish one The day is gonna come for your confessions of love.’

This time you were in harmony. You were going to tell Theo everything. How foolish you had been. How you can’t imagine life without him. You head to his dorm room as you know it’s typically empty at this time of the morning and Theo habitually returns to his dorm just after breakfast to put down his books.

You had 2 free periods back-to-back on a Thursday morning, so you have ample time to gush about your feelings. You spot that his door was slightly ajar and knock anyways. The force swings the door slowly open. The room was empty. You sit on Theo’s bed and look around. You notice a few crumpled-up pieces of paper in the bin next to his nightstand.

Curiosity got the better of you as you unwrinkle one piece and gasp when you notice it was addressed to you. You pick up more pieces and all of them are confessions to you, describing how he felt during the day he wrote them. All this time you were waiting for confessions of love and thought they were never going to come, and there they were sitting in a pile of rubbish.

All signed off as:

Yours,

Teddy

Could he be? Yours?

You run to the Slytherin common room and don’t see Theo anywhere. You spot Blaise playing chess with Tracey.

“Have you seen Theo?” You interrupt them.

“He’s gone on a date with Daphne.” Tracey replies, focused on her match as Blaise’s bishop takes her knight.

He can’t. Be yours.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

It was the last day of the first term, and you sit at your usual far corner of the great hall for breakfast. No Theodore in sight. You set up extra early since you left him a note by his bedside table the day before to meet him at 6:30 when the meal starts.

There he was. Your note is in his hands and you watch him as he walks to you and knits his brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a little worried.

He sits opposite you instead of his usual spot next to you. You bring your hands above the table and show his letters in your hand.

“This. This is what’s wrong.”

“Look I…”

You cut him off. “Why didn’t you send them?”

He stares at you blankly and scratches his head. “What do you mean send them?”

“You fool. I would’ve walked out sooner and run to you.”

“I didn’t think you felt the same way. That’s why I threw them out. You didn’t come to me to talk after what happened in the hallway and you never brought up the kiss again.”

You blush at the memory.

“How did you get those anyways?” His eyes narrow.

“Never mind about that. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hear what?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

After hours of rehearsal, you could only utter 5 words. “I feel the same way.”

He beams for a second and then frowns to ask,

“What about Draco?”

“When all is said and done, he just wasn’t the one.”

His smile returns and you swear it’s brighter than the morning sun. He reaches over and holds your hand and tells you, “I don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say those words.”

He pulls you over the table knocking over the goblet and food that had appeared and pecks you on the lips.

“What about Daphne? Aren’t you with her?”

“No, she just wasn’t the one.”

You've reached this far! Here's a bonus:

It was Christmas day and you were in the great hall ready for the feast, dressed in a sweater Theo bought you so that you can match on this occasion. In one hand you have Theo and in the other a carefully wrapped present and you sat next in your self-assigned corner of the room.

"Let's pull a cracker!" You say eagerly.

And soon both of you adorn paper crowns on your head.

"Dinner doesn't start for another 15 minutes" He informs you.

You pout replying, "So why did you rush me out of my dorm so quickly?"

"So I can give you this." He places a fairly large box in front of you.

"Thank you, Teddy!" You tilt your head when you notice holes all around the box. "What's up with the holes?"

"Just open it." He excitedly insists.

"Okay okay. Thank you." You undo the ribbon and take off the lid. You squeal as you spot the kitten you had been eyeing at the store that evening of what you both have agreed to be your first date.

"I can't thank you enough! I love her so much." You carefully lift the kitten out of the box to cuddle her.

"Anything for you darling. What are you going to name her?"

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I didn't plan to write it this long. I hope you didn't mind.

I welcome any feedback or criticism.

[a-killer-obsession]

Valentines Day Special '24 [Killer x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Hidden feelings lead to late night confessions.

CW: fluff and smut, oral sex, face-fucking, vaginal sex, afab reader

WC: 4401

Masterlist || AO3

To say you were grumpy today was an understatement. It had been just over a month since the Victoria Punk had docked at an island with a population, therefore it'd been just over a month since you'd gotten laid. It's not like you were the only one feeling antsy, after three uninhabited islands in a row the whole crew was anxious to get their dicks wet. A few of the other girls on the ship, like Quincy, had regular fuck buddies, but unfortunately you didn't. There was only one man on the ship you had your eye on, and he seemed as far from interested in you as possible, you'd probably have better luck seducing a seaking. To top it all off - it was Valentine's Day. The icing on the horny cake, if there was any day you should be getting laid, it should be today.  

You sighed and looked over the deck. The aforementioned man you had your eye on was making his usual quick, silent strides across the deck, his long blond mane fluttering behind him as he walked alongside the Captain. His shirts always seemed too small for his heavily muscled frame and you could swear sometimes that it was some sort of divine punishment for you specifically. Gods you would do anything to rip off that stretched shirt and run your tongue over the muscles hidden underneath. 

You must have been staring for a little too long because the masked man turned and looked at you midstride, he probably felt your eyes burning holes in his clothes while you thought about undressing him. You quickly looked away, pretending you were just looking at the open waters behind him. It probably wasn't subtle, and it definitely wasn't the first time he'd caught you ogling him. If he had any inclination to fuck you he would have done it by now, because surely it was clear by the sheer number of times you'd been caught eye-fucking him that you wanted him. Alas, he'd never even mentioned it, never made any comment that gave you any hint as to whether he returned the attraction, or was uncomfortable with your staring. You turned back to the railing behind you, groaning in frustration and leaning against it. 

“Kid wants to know why you were acting like such a pent up bitch at dinner,” a smooth baritone voice suddenly came from behind you. You squeaked in surprise and almost threw your book overboard from where you were sitting cross legged on the figurehead of the ship. 

“Jesus fucking christ Killer, we need to put a fucking bell on you,” you turned your torso and smacked him on top of his mask with your book. Considering how big he was, it was a playful gesture - you could never hurt the giant of a man. 

“Sorry,” he said with little emotion. 

“You can tell Kid I was acting like a pent up bitch because I am a pent up bitch,” you grumbled, spinning on your ass to face him properly, “when are we getting to an island with a decent town? I'm going to fucking implode if I don't get laid soon, even Heat is starting to look tempting at this point”

“ Everyone is pent up,” he added, “but you were acting particularly bitchy today”

“Yeah, well, none of you brutes could appreciate a romantic holiday like Valentine's Day,” you pouted, “usually by now I'd have a line of men kneeling at my feet begging to fuck me, roses and chocolates in hand. This fucking sucks”

“Oh, that's today?” He mused, “I didn't realise you cared, I didn't think anyone on this ship cared. Anyway if Heat is looking so ‘tempting’ why don't you just go jump him?”

“Because, Killer my sweet masked giant,” you patted him on the chest as you slid off the figurehead, “there's only one man on this ship I'm interested in fucking and I don't think he has a single molecule of interest in me. But hey, that's what vibrators are for”

He grabbed your wrist as you walked past and looked at you. You didn't turn to look back at him, the gesture was almost painful. Not physically, but emotionally. He knew full well you were talking about him, and he felt bad about it. “Killer, it's fine, you don't have to feel sorry for me. I'll get over it.” He let go when you tried to shake him off, and let you walk away without another word. 

In truth, you weren't sure if you would get over it. Till now a lot of what you thought you felt for Killer was just physical. It wasn't till he grabbed your wrist that you realised just how badly you craved his touch, how much you just wanted to be held by him. You'd rushed back to your room as fast as you could as tears pricked your eyes, realising that he would likely never return the feelings. Hell, you didn't even know what he looked like under the mask, he didn't trust you enough to show you, how could you ever expect him to open his heart to you? It hurt, this Valentine's Day really fucking sucked. And to make matters worse, your trusty vibrator died before you could cum. Thanks to the stupid, stupid fucking feelings you couldn't get there and in the end even your toy had given up on you. How depressing. 

It must have been past midnight by now, at least V day was over, as miserable as it had been. You decided to go get a snack after your self-fuck-athon, maybe you'd get lucky and find something sweet so you could at least eat your feelings. You didn't bother to put on pants, opting to just throw a satin dressing gown over your negligee before heading barefooted to the kitchen. It was warm enough anyway, the ship must be coming close to a summer island. That made you hopeful, summer islands were often tourist hot spots, ripe with hot, horny men. 

You were surprised to find the kitchen light on, only commanders were allowed in there outside of meal preparation hours and you were sure you were the only one midnight snack inclined, except for Heat of course who would get the munchies often after smoking pot. But he was on nightwatch, there's no way he'd be in the kitchen. You were even more surprised to hear a deep, angry “ fuck ” and the sound of something metal being dropped as you approached the door.

You opened it to find Killer, standing at the sink running his hand under a cool stream of water - the swearing must have been him burning his hand. He looked in your direction only for a moment as you entered, before turning his attention back to his hand. 

“You good, Kil?” You asked as you slid up beside him. You took his hand gently and inspected it, seeing that the burn looked small but deep. You weren't the ship's doctor but you helped out sometimes, being that you at least had some basic first aid knowledge. “Yikes, keep that under the water, I'll grab a dressing”

He did as he was told while you rummaged in the cupboards for the small first aid kit you insisted be kept in here in case of kitchen related incidents. Suck it, Kid, now who's idea is a waste of time? Point for [Y/N]! You retrieved a small gauze and some medical tape from the box - the burn needed to be dressed loosely so it could breathe, but be protected from anything that could cause infection. You ripped a few paper towels from the roll on the bench before turning off the tap and taking his hand gently again. He didn't protest, he knew you were in medical mode. You could get scary when someone refused medical care, scary even to a strong man like him. 

You pat his hand dry and inspected it one last time before applying the gauze and taping it down, flexing his hand to make sure the tape wasn't too tight for his muscles to move. “Make sure you go see doc tomorrow about this,” you instructed as you let go of his hand and set about putting the tape away and throwing out the gauze packaging. 

“Yes ma'am,” he grumbled, returning to whatever he'd been doing before while you opened the fridge to inspect its contents. The kitchen held other, more commercial style fridges, but this one was smaller, just for the commanders. It mostly held beer. 

“Hungry?” He mused. 

“Mmm,” you replied, closing the fridge with a disappointed sigh, “shit all in here though” 

“Here,” he turned and held something out for you. A chocolate cupcake, not yet iced and still warm from the oven. He must have burnt his hand taking them out. 

“You made… cupcakes?” You asked quizzically, looking at the small cake in your hand with confusion as you peeled away the paper lining. It was a weird thing for a big, tough guy like Killer to be making in the first place, let alone in the middle of the night. You took a bite, it was soft and warm and laced with chocolate chips. You almost purred at how delicious it was, even without icing. “KIL! THIS IS DELICIOUS!”

“Thanks,” he'd turned back to the rest of the cupcakes and was gingerly moving them to a cooling rack, “I uh… I made them for you. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

You paused mid bite, absolutely dumbfounded. He'd made cupcakes… for you? “What? Why?” You asked before taking another glorious bite. 

“You're supposed to give chocolate on Valentine's right?” He explained shyly, “I know it's late, and it's not exactly a box of assorted artisan bonbons, but I figured at least chocolate flavoured would be something? I don't have any flowers, sorry”

You were absolutely shell shocked, frozen in silence, cupcake still in hand, just staring at him. He realised after a moment that you hadn't said anything and looked over his shoulder at you. 

“Kil…” you sighed, “I don't… I don't understand” 

He sighed and turned around, leaning against the bench behind him. He ran a hand down his mask in frustration - not at you, but at himself. Of course you didn't understand, you'd given him every opportunity to show he had feelings for you, and he'd thrown them all away. 

“I… I thought, for the longest time, that you just wanted me… for sex,” he started to explain, staring at the floor, “but I… I wanted more, I didn't want to be just something physical with you. And I didn't think you wanted anything more than that, but…” he paused, his mask turning in your direction now, “I realised today that maybe that wasn't true, and I've hurt you by just ignoring it completely.”

You were sure what to say. The man had just confessed his feelings for you when you thought up until five minutes ago that you'd never have a chance with him. Hell, your eyes were probably still puffy from crying about it. And now you were standing here, home baked cupcake in hand, made specifically for you, and a confession swimming in your mind. Your brain felt fried. 

“I…” you couldn't form a complete sentence, you were overwhelmed. You probably would have just said fuck it and kissed him, but the stupid mask was in the way, so you just awkwardly put your cupcake on the bench. You'd intended to turn to him after putting it down, but you found yourself stuck staring at the granite. 

A hesitant hand slid across the counter to where yours still laid after putting the cupcake down, and he took your hand in his. “Please say something,” he almost whispered. 

“Sorry I just…” you took a deep breath and a small laugh escaped you, “to be honest Killer, I just spent the evening crying over you, and now you confess these feelings I never thought were possible and bake me cupcakes and I… I'm just really overwhelmed, sorry” 

“I made you cry?” He whispered, sliding a little closer and squeezing your hand, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to”

“I know, Kil,” you forced a smile for him, looking where you guessed his eyes were, “I know.”

He slid closer, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pressing his mask into the crook of your neck. You rested your head against it and sighed, pressing into the hug and squeezing his hand back reassuringly. Gods he was so close, and he smelt so fucking good, like musk and vanilla and cardamom, a rush of electricity sparked down to between your legs, you wanted to fucking devour him. 

“Fuck this,” you announced, suddenly over the tender moment when you remembered how fucking down bad you were. If the others weren't awake yet then maybe it was still technically Valentine's Day, the day wasn't entirely lost. You grabbed his hand firmly and dragged him behind you as you left the kitchen. He came willingly, albeit a bit confused, as you led him towards your room. He paused in his stride when he realised where you were taking him. 

“What?” You said, frustrated as you looked at him. He was far too big for you to lead if he wasn't willing.

“Uh,” he seemed nervous, “we should go to my room. My bed is bigger”

“ Oh,” you replied. Oh he was willing, apparently he had the same thing on his mind if he was making the suggestion. “Okay then, lead the way” 

He hesitated for a moment before gaining a sudden burst of confidence and grabbing you, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. “Oi!” You complained. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it in response, and you squealed excitedly, if you weren't wet before you were definitely wet now as the man you'd been fantasizing about for months carried you to his bed. 

He opened the door and immediately threw you on the bed, before turning and locking the door behind him. His chest was heaving as he looked at you and his pants sported a clear bulge. He looked big, even through his pants, and you swallowed heavily as your eyes ran up and down him. He was doing the same to you, his mask tilting up and down oh so slightly as he undressed you in his mind. 

You moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling, and beckoned to him with one finger and a sly smirk. He wasted no time ripping off his shirt and coming to the side of the bed, and your hands were all over him as fast as you could move them. “Fuck I've thought about this a million times,” you said before licking a long stripe up his abdomen, from the top of his blond snail trail to his collar bone, where you sucked and nipped before moving to his neck. He grunted under the mask, and one of your hands slid down his chest to rest over his groin, palming his bulge. 

His hips moved of their own accord, pressing his eager dick into your hand. You took the hint and brought your other hand down while you continued to kiss and suck his neck and trapezius, unfastening his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers enough to let his large erection spring free. You paused your devouring to admire it, thick and veiny, the pink tip already leaking precum. A wide grin spread over your face, you knew this man would not disappoint you with girth like that. You bet he knew how to use it too. 

“Like what you see?” He mused, running a hand through your hair, tugging a little in an obvious hint.

“I do,” you purred, sliding your knees further back on the bed so you could lower your torso, bringing your face level with his hard cock. You looked up at him as your tongue met his tip, swirling around it before running a stripe along the underside. He groaned and pulled at your hair. “Use your words, Killer,” you cooed. 

“Fuck [Y/N], suck it or I'm gonna fucking die,” he growled, pulling your hair harder. 

You smirked and he moaned under the mask as you finally took him in your mouth. The girth pushed your lips to their limits, stretching your muscles almost painfully as you wrapped both hands around the base to pump what wasn't currently in your mouth. You started a slow, firm rhythm, moving your hands in the opposite direction to your head, meeting in the middle. His hips jerked and his dick slid deeper in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat before he suddenly pulled back. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled. 

“It's okay baby,” you purred, before taking him in your mouth again, the whole way this time. His eyes widened under the mask as your nose met his blond pubes, your eyes still looking up at him. You held him there for a moment, running your tongue along his underside, before sliding back and letting him go with a pop. 

“ Fuck,” he gasped, “you don't have a gag reflex?”

“Lost it in the war,” you winked, “you can be rough with me if you want”

You opened your mouth invitingly, sticking out your tongue, your hands running over his thighs. He eagerly took the invitation and shoved his dick in your mouth unceremoniously, grabbing your head with both hands to hold it still as he started to thrust. Slowly at first, but as he realised you really could take it he moved faster, using your throat like a cock sleeve. His moans as he used you made you unbelievably wet, you loved looking up and seeing him looking down at you, watching his cock disappear in your mouth while he fucked it. 

“Fuck… fuck,” he grunted before his thrusts stopped suddenly, his cock deep in your throat as his hot load spilled from it and slid straight down. You moaned around his dick in response, sucking your cheeks tight to milk every last drop from him, incredibly aroused as you watched him come undone, his head thrown back and his hands wound tight in your hair. He finally let you go, pulling your greedy mouth of his cock and throwing you further back on the bed. 

“Hungry little slut,” he growled, reaching for the strap that held his mask firmly on, “you're going to be the fucking death of me.” You heard the click of the latch and shivered with anticipation, eager to see what he looked like underneath. You let out an audible gasp as he removed it, revealing sharp blue eyes with heavy lashes and purple painted lips. 

“What the fuck, Killer?” You almost yelled, “why the fuck do you wear a mask when you look like that? ” 

He gave you a shit eating smile before climbing on top of you, his half hard dick pressing between your legs and giving you much needed friction. You moaned and rolled your hips up towards him, desperately seeking more. 

“No more talking,” he growled before smashing his lips against yours. He could taste himself on your tongue as it fought with his, both of you moaning and grinding against each other like horny teenagers before he finally broke the kiss. He grabbed your waist and pulled you up as he kissed and sucked your neck, leaving hickies and bite marks where his mouth traveled, while he pushed off your robe and pulled your nightie up over your head. When he let you go you landed with a bounce, your tits bouncing with you before he hungrily took one in his mouth and sucked at your hard nipple. His hand found the other, rubbing the pebble between his thumb and index and pulling gently to illicit small moans from you. 

His mouth traveled further down, his tongue leaving a wet trail on your abdomen as he made his way to your mound, his thumb finding your pussy and rubbing over the clothed folds. 

“Fuck, Kil, please,” you begged. 

He twisted the band of your panties with his index fingers and pulled them down, sitting back for a moment to free them from your ankles and throwing them aside. He looked at your naked body for a moment, admiring your soft curves and the marks he'd left on you. He stood up with a smirk, and you whined as he moved away. 

“Where are you going?” You complained.

“Give me a second,” he replied as he opened a side table drawer, pulling a hair tie from it and fastening it around his long blond mane as he returned to you. “Had to get my hair out of the way,” he crawled back between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and running kisses over them. You moaned as his nose ran over your center, and he used his hands to spread you open. 

“So wet…” he mused before running his tongue between your folds. You almost cried at how good it felt to finally have him on you, and his tongue quickly found your clit and swirled circles around it. He looked up at you from between your legs as he sucked on it, pulling a deep groan from you. Under his chin his hand slid up, his middle finger toying with your entrance before sliding in easily, twisting to find your sweet spot and pressing against it. 

“Hnng.. Kil..” you mewled as your hips rolled on their own. 

He slid in another finger, pumping you slowly, letting you stretch around his thick digits before adding a third. He pressed up against your g-spot, making short, hard thrusts against it while he continued to suck on your clit and play with it with his tongue. You were so pent up, your orgasm hit you so suddenly without warning, almost pushing his fingers out from how tight you squeezed around them as you squirted and shook. He worked you through it, paying no mind to the juices dripping from his goatee as you moaned and cried his name. 

He pulled his fingers out and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back on his heels and admiring his work while you panted. “Fuck, sorry Kil, I'm not usually that… violent,” you stuttered out between heavy breaths. 

He gave you a smug grin as he crowded back over you, kicking off his shoes and pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. “My girl only squirts for me, huh?” He leaned down and kissed you hard, forcing his tongue in and making you taste yourself. You thought it would taste bad, but the sweet musky flavour made you moan, “you taste so good baby, I could never get enough of that,” he cooed when he finally pulled away. 

His dick was hard again and he pressed the tip against your pussy, rubbing against your over sensitive clit. “Think you can take me?” His voice was deep and dark with arousal, it made you shudder. 

“Fuck, please Kil,” you were practically clawing at his forearms as your hips tried to meet him, but he skillfully kept his length away, “please, fuck me”

“Mmm,” he purred, running his nose against your neck till his mouth met your ear, “get on your knees” 

The second he leaned away you were moving, flipping to your front and presenting your ass for him, your wet pussy on full display and begging to be filled. “Good girl,” he cooed, pressing his tip against your entrance, “here you go baby”

He slid inside in one fluid motion, made easy by how soaked you were from your previous orgasm, and you both groaned as he bottomed out. He paused and let you adjust, his girth stretching you deliciously and filling you so well, his chest resting against your back as he waited for you to be ready for him. 

“Kil, move, please,” you begged. He didn't waste anymore time, starting a deep, fast rhythm, almost desperate, right off the bat. His heavy length rubbed against your g-spot with every thrust, making you moan with reckless abandon, uncaring of who heard. He grunted and whispered your name like a prayer as he fucked you hard, his front snapping against your ass and leaving it red with every deep movement. 

“Fuck, you're so tight, fuck,” he mumbled.

Your core was already tight as he lost himself in you, your body being shaken back and forth with the pounding, your orgasm quickly approaching. You barely had time to reach back and grab his thigh before you screamed out, your walls squeezing around him as you came hard.

“Ha.. fuck..” he grunted, slamming in to you and stilling as he came deep inside you, filling you with another hot load. 

The two of you collapsed onto the bed as he pulled out, his head against your shoulder blades and his hot breath making your skin damp. His hands were on your hips, holding you tight in place while you both caught your breath. He rolled off to give you space to breathe, laying on his back beside you, his head turned in your direction. You turned to him and smiled, reaching a hand up and pushing his messy bangs out of his face. His eyes closed and his face pressed into your palm, so you rested it against his cheek, caressing him with your thumb. You wondered if anyone had ever touched him like this, since he no doubt kept his mask on with other women. 

“Kil?” You whispered, sliding closer and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Mm?” He mumbled, his eyes still closed, half asleep at this point. 

“No more hiding feelings, kay?” You said softly, and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Kay,” he whispered back, before turning and wrapping himself around you, getting comfortable and falling asleep. 

He was still wrapped around you when you woke up, naked and spooning on top of the covers, the wrong way across the bed where you'd both fallen asleep. He kissed your shoulder as he felt you wake, humming as he ran his nose across your skin and breathed you in. He was already making plans to spoil you next Valentine's Day. 

[mvltisstuff]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well, how have finals been going/gone??

i saw your post asking for requests, and i know the last thing i sent you you said it was fine to send more but i didn’t wanna overwhelm you with finals and everything going on, but since you’re asking, ofc i have more 😂 i was thinking something with reader being athena’s apprentice again and this time the reader gets hurt on a case and buck as to be called and goes full blown protective and everyone’s like “where did this come from considering how reckless you are” and that’s when everyone realizes how real things are with them and that reader is end game for buck. ofc if you don’t get to it, don’t worry. if you do, thank you a thousand. i hope you have a lovely day and things go well, just in general ❤️

-🚒

must be love - e.b

summary: request from above :)

evan buckley x reader

a/n: finals are going well!! i just finished my state testing 😿 but luckily it wasn’t too bad. i have like a week left of school and then i’ll be writing a ton, and i love love love seeing people leave requests <33 hope you enjoy love

y/n roamed through the halls of the dark house, with her gun up, flashlight on, and her eyes focused on her surroundings. she had gone in without backup, but athena was on her way to the scene as well as a few more units. the call had been sent into dispatch for an armed robbery, so clearly y/n had to be armed too. she had turned her radio off, not to make the intruder more threatened by the police presence.

she had been searching the bedrooms, the kitchen, and other rooms that had been marked off with valuables this person might be interested in. the homeowner had already made his escape out, so now it was just a matter of time for them to find the person who caused this. the last room y/n had entered, she was hoping to find someone, but alas, there hadn’t been any traces.

in the hallway, the man tracing her steps had been following her throughout the house, strategically hiding behind her in ways that she would never have noticed. she had been pointing her gun and light at the walls and under the furniture when she felt a massive blow to the head.

her vision was faded and blurred as she whipped around with her gun. disoriented, he was able to swing it out of her grip and across the floor. the robber landed clean punches to her abdomen and scratches to her face. she heard a crack to her shoulder, but she knew it hadn’t been broken. it still hurt like a bitch, for sure.

y/n’s strong, but vulnerable body had been thrown against the wall and slid down. the criminal wasn’t done, but the shiny pocketknife on his side did not pass by y/n’s smart eyes. she grabbed his side and opened it swiftly, jamming it into his thigh. he screamed out in pain, and y/n twisted the knife before pulling it out.

out of the corner of her blurry eyes, y/n had spotted a figure making her way toward the two of them. her eyes were squinted from the pounding headache she had been facing. the faint, familiar voice came in as the woman bent down with a jangling pair of cuffs. “dispatch, this is 727-L30, suspect in custody, we’re going to need an additional ambulance at 1873 Garden Street,” says athena into her radio.

“thena…” y/n whispers.

“hey, y/l/n,” she responds. “you got this guy good.” another officer comes in and hauls the man away and it is just athena and y/n in the room. “are you alright, y/n?” athena says sternly.

“i’m fine, i just-“ y/n starts to stand up, and athena grabs onto her. her legs wobbly a bit and she words get mushed together.

“ok well, i don’t think so. we have an ambulance on the way.”

y/n sits back down and nods, looking at her with tired eyes, still fighting to stay away. successfully, she is able to make it until the two paramedics come into the house. she sees hen and chimney walk in with their medical bags.

“what do we got he- y/n?” chimney asks, bending down and observing his friend. hen shines a light to her eyes.

“probable concussion,” she touches her shoulder, making her hiss and cry out a bit. “and maybe a shoulder dislocation, posterior.”

“let’s get her en route to hollywood presbyterian,” chimney says, getting ready for transport.

after y/n was dropped off the at hospital, she was placed in her own, quiet room. hen and chim and arrived back at the station, prepared to face bucks wrath. they walked upstairs to the kitchen, meeting bobby who had already been informed on the incident by athena.

buck had been sitting at the table with eddie and ravi, hanging out and snacking at a bowl of popcorn. they had been bickering over some silly thing when bucks eyes landed on the partners. he immediately knew something was wrong, and his brain landed to y/n. their upset faces gave it away.

“what happened?” buck asks, hesitantly, not wanting a bad answer. “is y/n ok?”

“she… she was hurt, buck,” hen begins to state. “one of her calls took a bad turn-“

buck shoots out of his chair, stepping closer to her. “what do you mean went wrong?” he raises his voice. “where is she?”

“she’s at the hospital buck, but she is alright,” chimney says. “you don’t have to panic-“

“what hospital?”

“buck, slow down…”

“i asked what hospital?!”

the two exchange a sad glance, and tell him, “hollywood presbyterian.”

buck immediately is ready to leave, preparing to speed to the hospital. he always gets scared when he gets a call or text from her. because buck doesn’t know what he would do if she got hurt, or worse. she was his lifeline. every day she was there for him with a smile, forcing him to paint his own. she was brighter than the sun to him, and without her, the clouds had rolled in. even thinking about losing her sent him into a spiral of negative thoughts.

he had met her at a dinner with athena and bobby, and he was smitten for her ever since. the months and months of them seeing each other and blossomed into a stronger love than they could’ve imagined. buck can’t see himself with anyone but her.

“hey, kid,” bobby says. “i’m going too, i’ll drive you over.”

the ride to the hospital was eerily silent. bucks thoughts were flooding his mind about how hurt she could be. he had been prepared to finally leave and end his shift at work, but instead was bombarded with fear. if there was a phobia of losing her, buck definitely has it.

he sprinted into the entrance of the hospital, bobby was trailing behind. he stormed up to the front desk and spat out her name rapidly. the nurse said, “i’m sorry sir, but only family can see loved ones at this time.”

buck shook his head, and looked at bobby. he didn’t want to have to lie, but it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. “fiancé, i’m her fiancé.” the nurse looks at bobby.

“uh, uncle?” he says unsure, but the nurse still accepts it and gives them a room number.

buck pounds on the elevator buttons, stepping into it his with his heart pounding. his shaking hands are pressed together to stop his anxiety, but it ultimately fails. bobby watches buck quietly, observing his frazzled state.

the doors slide open, and buck runs through the hallways passing by the nurses and other people. he looks at all the room numbers that mean nothing to him until he finds the next. the one with the love of his life inside.

his features soften as he looks at y/n’s sleeping body. her arm was wrapped up with a few bandages on her face. she looked oddly peaceful, which scared buck. however, the calm beeping of the machine helped him slow down. he walked further in to see athena sitting across from the bed. he walked up to y/n and saw her eyes lightly fluttering in her sleep. he sat down on the bed next to her, grabbing her hand and kissing it lightly.

“the doctor said she’s going to be perfectly fine,” athena reassures him. “she’s just sleeping now. she’ll be going home tomorrow.”

buck let out a breath that had been weighing his shoulders down. he looks at his girlfriends fragile form and observes the injuries to her face. he runs his fingers over a few of the cuts and bruises, but he finds comfort in knowing that they’ll heal. when athena mentions that she’ll be home, he smiles a bit. he knows that she’ll come home to her, and he swears there is no better feeling. “i’m just… i’m really happy she’s ok,” he looks over to athena. “thank you.”

she nods lightly before saying, “she’s a real fighter, wasn’t going to let that guy take her down with him.”

“this was so dangerous. give me five minutes with this guy.”

“buck, you know you’re the most reckless person i know. you two will be a good match, protecting each other.”

the night rolls into the hospital, breaking the day and releasing the moon. outside had become darker, and athena and bobby had been watching buck gently handle y/n. she had woken up for a bit, and had been talking to buck and had a bright smile on her face. bucks was almost identical out of relief and happiness.

the couple had been watching buck all night. they’d never seen him so in love with someone. they knew they were perfect together and that she was the center of his universe. buck needed her, and she saved him and pulled him out of some of his lowest times. it reminded them of themselves. athena saved bobby, and y/n was doing the same to buck.

“you got the guy, right?”

“of course we did, thanks to you and that little knife,” athena says.

“how did they let you all in? it’s not visiting hours, is it?”

“oh you know,” buck starts. “just told them a white lie.”

they all know that they aren’t engaged, but there’s no use in pretending that it won’t be a reality in time. at the end of the day, buck knows he told the truth to that nurse.

“i told them i was an uncle, but i think i could’ve gotten away with brother, no?”

“oh, bobby, bless your soul,” athena laughs, placing a loving hand on bobby’s shoulder. “you should get some more rest, you’ll be back in no time, sweetie.” the pair leaves, and y/n and buck remain in the room.

“go back to sleep, baby,” buck says, planting a kiss on her cheek. “i’m not going anywhere, i don’t know what i’d do without you. you bring out the best in me.”

“i love you, too, buck. so much,” she says and he places his hands on the sides of her face. holding her hand throughout the night, she dozes back off. a safe sleep, because buck is always there next to her.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Sedated | Dave York x f!Reader

gif from @iamasaddie

summary: you and dave are no strangers to this business, to death. so there can be no harm in relying on each other in times of need.

pairing: dave york x f!contract killer!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. divorced!dave. knife play, breath play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie. descriptions/mention of blood and injury. vibes are kinda weird idk

wc: 2.5k

an: this fic is a part of @wannab-urs hozier drabble challenge (although, alas, it is not a drabble). head to gin’s page for more!

Just a little rush, babe, to feel dizzy

To derail the mind of me

Just a little hush, babe, my veins are busy

But my heart's in atrophy

~ sedated, hozier

The only sounds in the bathroom are the dripping of the tap into the tepid water of the sink and the scrape of the razor across Dave’s stubble.

He sits, back straight, on the closed toilet - shirtless, in only his sweatpants, large hands hooked beneath your thighs as you straddle him, your body rocked back to find the perfect angle to shave him at.

He watches you with hooded eyes as you draw the razor over his skin, stretching it taught where you need to be careful, gliding it over the plain of his throat. He feels like he’s barely breathed the whole time, not a word being said between the two of you. But this is routine now. 

The quiet moments after a contract, nights where one follows the other, no matter where you had come from, no matter where you were staying. This half-tender care, so different from anything he’s experienced before - the bravado and camaraderie, or the mute mission of patching himself up, clotting his own wounds.

It must have been a serious kind of injury to draw you into each other, but when he tries to, Dave can’t remember. Something that needed to be patched up by someone else, too much blood making your own fingers slip, too deep for yourself to plug. Sometimes, it’s difficult to remember a time before you were here - before you found each other. The nebulous, shrouded years that seem to expand well beyond their perimeters. They should stop before reaching too far back into Carol and the girls, but they linger over even those happier times, back and back until it feels as though every year of his existence has been shrouded in darkness.

Those months after the divorce, after Mac, all spent feeling outside of his life until you had shown up, until you had proved a constant in the fucked up world he found himself in. And despite the nature of the person he has become now, there’s still a desperate, warm little part of him that wants you out - wants to drag you away from it. Wants you far away from this, from him, wants you unharmed and safe in the world that Carol and his daughters inhabit.

Wishful thinking - and it’s an awful thought to consider where being without you would leave him.

Lost, even more so than he already is. You do not make the darkness brighter, do not make it easier to see. But you hold your hand out to him, tell him in not as many words - I feel it, too.

This does not scare you the way it should.

He knows you now, in the way only someone like he can. Has seen what little fear you have. Has watched you push bullets through flesh, through brains, so the body matter spreads and splatters where it must. Has witnessed the plunge of a jagged blade into a stomach, watched you rip upwards, slash and maim with precision. It gives him a thrill, a dark satisfaction to witness a job so well done.

You continue your gliding movements, breathing steady, gaze focused, while Dave studies your face. The depth and glitter of your eyes in the half light, the crook and curve of your nose, the bow and twitch of your lips. You know he’s doing it; always do. You tilt his head with a palm on the side of his neck, using your other to hold the blade of his razor tight to the thrumming artery on the opposite side for a second too long. His dark eyes find yours, pouty lips posing an unvoiced question. You ask another.

‘Do you ever think about how easy it would be?’

Dave says nothing, unable to move his mouth as you use your thumb to press the razor into the soft underside of his jaw. You use enough pressure for his heart rate to spike before you scrape away the hairs there like you’re carving wood, cutting an apple. When the blade meets his chin, he speaks.

‘No.’ 

You meet his eyes briefly.

‘Don’t lie.’

You scrape away the remainder of his whiskers before twisting your body to wash the blade off in the sink. You keep it cuddled in you fist as you use two fingers to tip his chin into the light, gripping his jaw softly to turn his head this way and that, inspecting your work. He’s warm beneath you, firm and achingly hard. A pleased smile slicks across your lips, and keeping one hand cradled to his throat, you press the tip of the blade to his sternum and wait for any kind of reaction. Any twitch of a muscle, any change in the pace of his breathing, any flickering of his eyes. Instead, he keeps them trained on your mouth, heavy lidded, nostrils flaring, wanting.

He trusts you. And he knows you enjoy the power. Too much.

He can feel the heat, the wetness, leaking though your underwear already.

A soft growl slips from his throat as you trail the knife down, down. Down between his pecks, over the swell of his soft belly, through the hair that guides the way to his stiff cock. When you make it to the elastic of his waistband, you trace your initials against his soft skin - hard enough to leave red marks, but not so as to draw blood. When you lift your eyes, he is watching you; aching, panting. 

You bring the tip of the blade back up - circle his nipples, trace his clavicles, slide it along the base of his skull at the back of his neck. Killing him softly. When you press it to his temple, he knows the game is up. He knows you’re ready, the last lingering pulls of violence flaking from your hands as you lay the knife at the edge of the sink and wind your hands around his neck. You push your tits flush against him and press a dirty, open-mouthed kiss to his neck. Every one of his senses is attuned to every one of your movements, and he feels with keen urgency the movement of your tongue against his skin, the shapes you trace, your hot, damp breath, the minute scrape of your teeth -

You roll your hips, whining, soaked cunt dragging over the heft of his cock, and Dave grunts, standing so quickly that it makes you dizzy.

His palms are firm beneath your ass as he moves, taking leave of the bathroom to throw you down onto the deep mattress of the bed. The room is dark, the curtains not drawn - only a thin, orange light drains through the gauze covering the window, illuminating the curves and angles of your body.

Dave hauls himself over you, spreading your thighs, nipping any skin he can take between his teeth, your hands feverish over his bare shoulders, his back, his chest. He takes care to suck deep, hard marks into your neck, stripping you of your vest to bite into the soft swell of your breasts. You rock your hips against the thigh he's got nestled against your cunt, mewling softly, and the sound draws his lips to your mouth, licking in, molding, devouring. He presses a kiss to your jaw as he rolls his hips against you, and you moan, the noise throbbing through his body. With blindly moving fingers, he finds the bandage he had wrapped around your thigh tonight, the knife wound carved into you earlier in the evening by some son of a bitch he dispatched not seconds later.

Dave traces the shape of the bandages, the rough softness of the material, the bow he’d tied in mock of a garter. You were lucky he didn’t slice deeper - not that it seems to bother you now as Dave traces the indent of the cut, you nibbling his earlobe in response.

He presses his fingers deeper in to the wound only to feel you clench your thighs around him, numb to the pain, feeling only pleasure. He ruts into you once more before trailing back down your body, laving kisses wherever he can, only stopping to peel your underwear off, only pausing to cup your thighs and push them into your chest so he can spread you wide and take you apart with his mouth.

He eats you like he’s ravenous, like a man starved for days. His tongue is strong against you, working you easily, so easily you could be convinced he knows your body better than you do. He licks and bites, sucking bruises into the soft flesh of your thighs when you reel too close to the edge, and only when you beg, threaten, does he pull far enough away to spit down onto when you’re already dripping, spreading his saliva over your swollen pussy with his thick fingers. He reattaches his mouth to your clit, sucking and flicking, his slick fingers gliding inside you easily, pumping and curling until he can feel your walls begin to tighten and flutter. Your fists twist in his short hair and he moans lewdly against you, moving faster, harsher, wrenching something painful and hot inside you. You buck beneath him, back arching as he digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise to hold you still, gushing and clenching around his fingers. He loves watching you lose yourself like this, head thrown back in ecstasy, body glistening, twitching, sensitive. Loves watching the control slip from you, watching you slip into submission, give in. Give in to him.

He takes more, presses for more. He always does. His mouth continues to slurp greedily at your cunt as you sob, trying to push him away. But he’s immovable, insatiable, dragging a second orgasm from your body even as it continues to crash through the first. He wants to keep going until there is nothing left, until you are just as much a part of him as the need to harm and protect.

To love is to consume, to love is to destroy. Both are something you do, and do well - but the feeling itself is a dirty word in this dark hotel room. It is not a word he thinks of as he presses one last kiss to your sopping folds, not one that crosses his mind as he rids himself of his sweat pants, his cock hard as stone, slapping against his belly. He grips his base, dragging his fist over it once, twice, before he kneels between your slack legs. He leans forward to grip your chin as he notches himself at your entrance, pulling your face down so that you’re forced to watch him take you.

The first press into your cunt is always the tightest. Tight in anticipation, in need, and Dave is careful to let his mind fall blank so he doesn’t come too soon. You arch beneath him again, your hands reaching for his where they rest atop your thighs. He knows not to mistake it for something tender, but for the need to dispel your energy, your urges. The language is understood - when he rocks back, cock soaked with your arousal, and pushes in again, he follows the sound of your ragged gasp, leaning forward to take your mouth with his, biting your bottom lip, nipping at your shoulder. You take advantage of the position to sink your own teeth into his flesh, piercing and moaning. The sensation pushes him to pick up his force, his pace. 

Look at me. The only command he needs to give, the rest so ingrained now. When to come, when not to come, when and how to move. The only thing he ever needs to remind you of is where your eyes belong when he’s fucking into you like this, when it feels so good like this.

Tonight feels like more of a race than it usually does. You’re tightening dangerously around him, moaning, crying louder and louder as he drills into you, so warm, so wet, the noises your cunt is making so obscene that heat begins to coil threateningly at the base of his spine. He pierces you with his cock, tip knocking against your cervix with every thrust until tears gloss your eyes, your hands in a vice grip around the tops of his arms as you gasp out, unable to form a full word - oh, fu-, go-, Da-ave, ple-. He sneers down at you, a hand coming to cradle below your jaw again, throat held between his thumb and fingers, digits squeezing, constricting, restricting the bloodflow until your eyes are far away, blissed, body limp. Enough for a rush, enough for your mind to be derailed from its linear thinking - next kill, next kill, next kill. This is what you need, and he is proud that he can give it to you, gritting out a yeah, s’that good, little girl? Like that? before your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, your back bowed, your cunt spasming and gushing around him, your cry caught between your teeth as you try to roll away from him. He grips your wrists in one hand, bringing them high above your head as you twist and keen and throb, fat, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to fuck you, hard enough to make sure it bruises tomorrow. Your sobs come quieter as he moans into your neck, as he tells you how good you are, how tight you are, how you belong to him, how you’ll never get away, as he tells you to take it, take it, and you beg, plead with him - please, Dave, please - before he thrusts himself cruelly all the way inside you, gritting his teeth and growling as he comes, as you keen up at him. 

He wants to keep you full of him for as long as possible, all the time, but there are so many reasons why that’s not feasible. When he slips his softening cock from your pussy, you whimper at the loss. He ignores the sound and instead sits back to watch his cum leak from your used cunt, down to your asshole, before collecting it with his thumb and pushing it back in. He looks back up at you, eyes glazed, breath heavy, body sated, and finds a similar expression laid across your features. When he catches his breath, he stretches himself out beside you on the mattress, covering you both with the sheets. Both pairs of eyes trained to the ceiling, not thinking, not thinking, just feeling. 

But even in primal feeling, even when he snips at the gnaw in his chest, he craves it, needs it. Slave to your touch, your command, your control, your submission. It’s dangerous in a world like this, in a world like yours. 

When your chest settles into a regular rhythm, you curl yourself into him. Your body is warm and firm, still sweaty, your cunt still dripping as you hook a leg over his hip. You wrap around him like he is somebody you miss, somebody you wish to hold outside of this bedroom. Your breath crowds the side of his neck, and he closes his eyes to it, letting himself be swept away. Sedated by what your bodies provide, sleep laps like waves, submerges, drowns, and in the darkness Dave is not sure where he ends and you begin.

When he wakes, still hours from dawn, the bed is cold beside him.

further an: while sedated was obviously the main catalyst here, i'd also recommend listening to massive attack's come near me while/after reading. happy trails!

divider from @saradika-graphics

[amomentwiser]

"Why don't you spend time with us?" they say, "Keep your phone away at the table."

Parents say they want to talk — until it's about anything real.

They don't want to know about how their plans for your future make you feel.

They don't want to know your fears, hopes or dreams.

The things you're interested in — your favourite music, games and movies;

Or the things you've come to believe.

Sometimes it feels like parents don't want to get to know you as a person. They only see you in relation to themselves.

Or sometimes they do talk about music and games and movies, and it's even worse — because the conversations you want to have are serious.

And it's worse because it becomes very clear, that they don't want to have conversations that matter. That, god forbid, make them feel.

They want to avoid talking about all the times they yelled at you. No apology, no acknowledgement. Just glaze over those parts and pretend everything's normal. Neither guilt nor remorse.

And you're left wondering whether this thing you have a memory of actually happened, because everyone is acting like it didn't. And whether your anger is warranted, because everyone is acting like it isn't.

An unspoken decision: "Yes, we were harsh earlier, but we felt bad and are being nice now"

The implied demand: "...so be grateful,"

The undercurrent of a threat: "...or I'll get angry again."

And a push to move on: "Why do you bear grudges? Leave the past in the past."

All these little clues, that you learn to read in their body language and their eyes and their vibe.

And then they balk when you don't call them. Or jump at the chance to spend time with them — or even have a relationship.

It's weird, loving people you don't like. That you'd never choose of your own volition; that you'd never be friends had you met in the real world. People you're indebted to anyway, because they took care of you your whole life and changed your diapers and drove you to school, and what friend would ever do that?

Had they been overly abusive I would've cut them off without guilt; if I didn't know that despite it all, they really did love me, I wouldn't have cared about hurting their feelings.

Some people... you love them only because they are family. If they were a boyfriend, I would've broken up with them; if they were a spouse I would've divorced them. Alas, they are my parents, and I'm destined to love them. To give up a kidney for them if need be, but not any days out of my workweek.

I don't have these conversations with my family because I've come to realise that this is something they're not emotionally equipped to handle. Too much self-awareness would bring out memories not only of the mistakes they made with me, but also all the times adults in their childhood failed them; of all the ways they themselves were wronged; all the years they wasted because of choices they didn't know they had; and all the things they wish they'd done differently. So I understand; the flood of anger and regrets it brings to the surface must be draining.

But that also means that I'll distance myself from them, because for me, their misunderstood love is draining. And because this has to stop somewhere; someone has to start choosing differently — and I've decided it'll be me.