#hate when he has rare moments when hes based

[hetaestoniahq]

"Who is Estonia?"

A series of responses heavily based on little facts of culture and history with the Nordic-Baltic 8. This is just a fun little short way I thought of to talk about their relationships and history. Pretty much everything is a reference to something. This is all for fun! :D

FINLAND

Two out of three of the only independent Uralic countries to exist. You’d think it would be a heavy burden to carry, but it’s easier not being alone.

Even when I was the one to wrong him, Eduard did not change his stance. Guess it's part of being family to not always see eye to eye. It never discouraged him from rushing to my aid even when things were hard for him too. Eduard refused to let any hardship stop him from bleeding for my country. Ridiculously stubborn he is - but it’s been one of his greatest strengths. Of course I repaid him, then he proceeded to do it again. It's like a cycle of fighting for each other's freedom, one I was unable to continue because what I could do had became incredibly limited. These limited set of actions still seemed to mean the world to him. Re-independence had its rough patches, but more than ever were we glad to both be free and have each other again.

Eduard always wants what's best for both of us. He doesn't want any one of us to end up in the hands of our Eastern neighbours and puts so much time and effort into our cooperation and safety. Why do you think he became so dedicated in Cybersecurity? If he can't be a physical powerhouse, he'll be a powerhouse of the mind. Even when I was uncertain of what I will do, he did not pressure me. Instead, he promised that no matter what I decide, he will always be there for me, no matter what.

The only flag I want to see down south is a tricolour blue-black-blue, if the sun one day rises without it then I will know I have failed as a brother.

🇫🇮💙🇪🇪

NORWAY

I didn’t expect us to have many things alike outside similarities that are basic and expected for a northern nation. Never expected that something as simple as common patterns among our sweaters, hats and mittens could mean a lot more in hindsight. Another is the familiar feeling of having been thrown between nations and finally being independent again- even if our stories on that are much different.

When life told him no, he looked for another way- even though his government in exile continued to operate elsewhere, the mere fact that it was founded in Norway seemed to mean a lot to him. Perhaps it was my way of making up for the time he bled for me as well. When his own freedom was compromised, he would not sit idly and watch as someone he cared about was fighting for the same reason. As small as it may have seemed in the big picture, it is the passion and care that counts.

Estonia has always wanted to bridge any gaps between us. Inviting my people to sing in song festivals, making work deals, rushing to create a flight connection for a direct method of transport. It seems like every year Estonia finds ways to bring us a little closer, be it economic or cultural.

I too know the weight of sharing a border with Russia, partially to have so much history of dealing with him.. The Baltic’s strength is commendable.

Keep singing, songbird.

🇳🇴❤️🇪🇪

LATVIA

Long ago I used to hate Estonia. We used to be at each other's throats declaring each other “blood enemies”. It's a little funny looking back on it, the way history went on to tie us so close together. Together we saw countless wars, famines, storms, rarely were we separated through it. Sometimes I'd ask him “What do you think the world will throw at us next?” And he'd look at me and simply shrug “We'll see.”

A moment of truth was when we both fought for independence, for two new nations to be formed.

When I was backstabbed by the people who had tormented both of us for centuries, It was then I saw how our relationship had changed over the ages when Estonia without question stepped up to fight by my side. So casually my fight became his fight, no strings attached.

Estonia, his culture and language is notably different from mine, but must that mean we can't be brothers too? What brought us together was our experiences, not our blood. This applies to most of us, all I have been left with in regards to any sense of family is Lithuania. It would be a sad reality to live in if I considered only one country as worth being brothers with.

Estonia with his bond with Finland is the bridge that ties the Nordic-Baltic 8 together, but that doesn't mean me and Lithuania don't contribute to it either!

🇱🇻❤️🇪🇪

LITHUANIA

You'd think that with how different our history till the last century is, that I would be a weak link in all this, right?

I would not say so, even if there's some truth in the fact that I am not as close to Estonia as some others might be, it's the continuous effort to bring us together that counts.

Our old history includes fights here and there, the Balt Estonia once held close is no longer with us and with the Finnic brothers he has seen fade - he shares our pain of loss. Our enemies have often been the same, but back then we failed to see unity. What would have happened if we realised that far sooner? We’ll never know.

Our time together under the commonwealth was brief but the time under Russian rule slowly gave us a new opportunity.

The moment all three of us became independent, Estonia was the one to seek ways to bring us closer. Of course the main motive for it was to stand together stronger in the scenario of our east neighbour attacking, it still planted seeds for more than just that.

Latvia may be the one linking the Baltics together, but if it was necessary for me to be the one to reach out and hold his hand instead - I would not find it strange.

I'll always enjoy sitting back and enjoying some ice cream together, basking under a shared free sun.

🇱🇹❤️🇪🇪

ICELAND

I know the feeling of not being seen or heard, I decided a change was needed and took the first step. I never expected how much my simple words of “I recognize you as an independent country” would be worth more than gold. I became seen as a true friend, a “fellow small country”, an icebreaker, a name immortalised on a memorial- for just stubbornly expressing my stance? They seemed surprised when I showed my gratitude with a similar gesture.

Neither of us care for large mighty extravagant buildings as tourist attractions, instead we value and guide people to explore what mother nature has gifted us. I appreciate having him around. Even if I were the only Nordic to feel this way - I would still speak up for him.

🇮🇸❤️🇪🇪

DENMARK

Resilient, stubborn and always ready to improve - that's how I would describe Estonia.

I was part of the era that turned his history dark, I had celebrated victory for conquering a fierce land. When I had pointed my sword to his throat to submit him to the Danish crown, Estonia stood up and said “I will never die, no matter what you do to me.”

That was a promise.

Instead of looking at me with distaste for what I did to him so long ago, these memories instead are proof that we have always been connected. The flag of my nation - Dannebrog, stands as the strongest symbol of that. Hah! Why do you think Tallinn keeps showing it off all over the place? Give the coat of arms a closer look while you're at it! My guess is it's how Eduard expresses holding something dear.

It was like a hit of nostalgia to come back 700 years after that battle, hearing of Eduard’s fight for independence.

Like repaying a debt of honour, I couldn't sit back and watch a wounded land fight against a giant alone. I knew I had to do at least something, even if the government was not the most supportive of it. Two hundred men out of two thousands who were able to go and able to risk their lives in the end may seem small, but their effort was a success that brought honour to the crown.

This turn in history gave us another chance to start over, kindling a friendship neither of us thought we could ever have, before being struck with another turn that took him away from us again. I sat in silence refusing to accept it until he and his Baltic brothers reminded the world of their existence and stepped up to stand in support.

I made sure to keep the promises I made. I had 50 lost years to make up for, so I gave a hand in as many areas as I possibly could.

I'm proud to be his friend and I know that if he falls then I might too, which is why I know I can never let that happen. Never again will I let that happen.

🇩🇰❤️🇪🇪

SWEDEN

Most people don't realise how far back we go.

I saw Eduard at his fiercest point, a land that would strike fear into kings and just as easily burn what he didn’t like. He wasn’t someone to upset and yet I kept poking at him like a bear with a stick.

He allowed my people to come as settlers into uninhabited areas, despite his experience with foreigners taking and taking from him. Those settlers seemingly became a natural part of his nation, honoured even if most of them are now gone.

Something I quickly learned was how studious Eduard is, someone who picks up new skills incredibly fast. To think Eduard steadily became one of the most literate parts of the Russian empire back in the day makes me wonder how much of it was the seeds of education I planted or his hard work in fighting to keep it.

I tried my best to give my part in his fight for independence, turns out my support in this fight had been something his people had fantasized for decades. To think that after the way I left the people would continue to hold Sweden so dear in their hearts as the words “Good ol’ Swedish age” would be carried from generation to generation. Of course once given the opportunity we reconnected, provided a warm welcome.

Guilt gnawed at me every year as freedom had been so easily robbed from him again. I made mistakes. Mistakes I've apologised for repeatedly. Because of all the people given a chance of freedom and a normal life that my land gave - it's been forgiven. Sweden became a place where people could gather and continue the fight in safety - I am proud to have been able to have a role like that.

I am glad to have been given the chance to now stand as close to equals as possible.

All I hope is that Eduard learns to truly value and love himself more, do not let the ignorant voices shake him now.

🇸🇪❤️🇪🇪

All of us together, we will thrive as the Nordic-Baltic 8 and all of us are glad to have Estonia be part of it. It wouldn't be the same without any one of us, which is why we will continue to stand together no matter what others try to claim we are.

With love,

Northern Europe

🇮🇸🇳🇴🇩🇰🇸🇪🇫🇮🇪🇪🇱🇻🇱🇹

[loumandivorce]

heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

��Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW ALPHABET [ simon ‘ghost’ riley]

Just my opinion based on how Simon comes across in the games. It was quite fun to interpret it. Hope I didn’t do too bad of a job 🤞

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ghost would be more closed off to a one night stand, so it’s lucky if you even get his name let alone for him to stay after the sex.

As for in a relationship, he cares so deeply that if he’s jackhammered you he’ll find himself gently massaging your sore pussy- you did take him ‘so well’ after all (his words)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He used to hate his arms, all the scars he had endured but he paid good, well earned money on his sleeve tattoos. And with encouragement from his partner- he likes them.

As for you, your face. He rarely gets to see all of his own, so seeing your face in any sense is a blessing. For intimacy it’s a luxury to see your brows screw up and lips parted. He knows you don’t have the same benefit of seeing his ALL the time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes the idea of claiming you by coming inside but the idea of children in a world like this… it scares him. Even if you’re on birth control… too much of a risk.

Simon loves seeing you on your knees, lips pink and raw after finishing down your throat. And you better be swallowing- he doesn’t like tryna get stains out of the bedsheets.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to fuck you in close quarters to the rest of 141, and use his balaclava as a gag to shut you up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Simon is said to be in his earlier to mid-30s and doesn’t have as much experience as the others but you’ve never complained about his skill before. He’s a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ADVANCED MISSIONARY; As said before, he loves your face. So something front facing but spicier than missionary- legs on his shoulders… laid flat on the edge of the kitchen table with him stood ploughing into you.

AGAINST THE WALL: Simon loves knowing it’s all him giving you pleasure- you clung to him for dear life. Nails cutting into him and limp from the waist down, he’s not shy when it comes to pain… not that kind anyway.

DOGGY: The only exception to him not facing you is when you’ve been teasing him all day long. He loves the roughness and how much of you he can feel at that angle. Intoxicating.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simon goes Ghost mode during sex. It’s a scale of kinda serious to don’t talk kind of serious. Depends on how long he’s gone without it. If he’s on leave and it’s on the couch during movie night and you clash teeth- he’s so serious about it but when you start laughing, his eyes go puppy dog and he joins you in hysterics.

He can be very goofy so he has that side when his guard is down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He likes to keep in tidy down there, not completely shaven but nothing to stop you from giving him sloppy head.

He has light eyelashes but the hair is so short you can barely see the true colour - a blondish brown colour.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like most things with Simon, he truly depends on what mood you catch him in. He’s a chill guy, he’s the type to get you gifts without making a big deal about it.

He just wants your sole undivided attention, that’s romance in his eyes. Having a connection with you, spending time with you. So he’s kissing up your body, and eating you out like there’s no tomorrow without expecting you to return the favour.

Simon is all about eye contact, kissing and making you feel special in the moment. So I guess you could call him a pinch romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Being away from you is a death sentence, but the mission is work. That doesn’t mean LT doesn’t jack off, to images of you riding him or panting beneath him, when he’s in the shower.

Off duty he has you, he doesn’t need to jack off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BONDAGE: Hands behind your back, tied with his belt. Or he doesn’t mind, he knows how to break out of ties anyway.

VOYEURISM: Loves watching you masturbate, revels in it because he knows he’ll have you coming on his cock in the next few minutes.

DOMINANCE: Not in an unhealthy way, he’s a BIG guy (and he uses it to his advantage). Caging you in and hitching you up at his waist, repeating the words, “Who do you belong to?” “Who makes you feel so good?”

And the answer every single time is ‘you, Si.’

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nowhere public, there’s a reason he wears a mask in public let alone being caught with his dick out.

His favourite may be a wall, especially if Soap is staying in the guest room… because the master bedroom is beside it. Ghost is territorial like that, you’re his.

The bed is too comfortable for him when he’s initially back. Simon will hold your hips and watch you bounce on his dick while his back is on the fluffy carpet. Carpet burns were worth it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kissing his tattoos- man this guy gets pent up when you do that. All the way up his arm, through to his chest. Do this and you will find his trousers tented and tight.

Ghost is very susceptible to touch, he spends so much time trying not to get hit by stray bullets or by fists that when he lets his guard down- he really gets turned on by crotch palming or kissing. Makeout sessions quickly become a night long sex fest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hates being blindfolded, absolutely despises it. Even when relaxed it’s difficult for Ghost to just be Simon. He likes being able to see you, his PTSD comes in play there.

Also, another no no, is you wearing a skull mask or himself wearing it in the bedroom. When he’s at home, he doesn’t even want to remember what happened in the field. Let alone bring it into the most vulnerable position he’s gonna be in. He may even draw the line at face coverings in general.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As said before, he couldn’t care less if he receives. Only that he makes you cum at least once.

Don’t mistake that for him not liking blowjobs, he loves it- again, a touch thing but he would rather watching you come undone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like a lot of things with Simon, it depends on his mood and it you can handle it at the time.

Simon is a kinda soft dom because he cares about his significant other and doesn’t want to hurt you but if you can take it… you’d better find something to hold onto. Legs and abdominal muscles galore- he is a tyrant if you wish it.

But he doesn’t need to do that ALL the time, he can do soft and gentle just as well. Deep, powerful thrusts… letting you adjust after a couple of rounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you’ve been teasing him, he will pull you into a restroom and have you drooling and seeing stars.

He prefers to have his time with you, to get you well adjusted for his size by fingering and then eating you out. Dragging out orgasm after orgasm to get you to relax.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t normally like fucking in public, but as said before- if you touch him in the right places and tell him how hot you are for him… let’s say he will find a dressing room or bathroom stall (within reason) to stop his hardness.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Have you seen this man? 6’5” and muscles for days… Simon has a LOT of stamina.

The first week he gets home you’re lucky when he’s not inside of you. He can go multiple times a day for an average of two hour sessions. He likes to take his time with you.

Quickies wise about 6 rounds in a row.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Simon’s not a fan of toys. Doesn’t own any and doesn’t plan on buying. He’s sure in his abilities and when you a moaning mess impaled on his cock- he’d say you’re quite satisfied.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Edges you from time to time and make you beg for some release. But that’s only when he’s in one of his sarcastic moods- mostly after he’s hung out with Soap.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not obnoxiously loud, but not quiet. His voices get a bit higher or goes lower when he says your name. Holding your hair while you’re on your knees, choking on his cock. It’s kind of addictive.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Your smell. Purposefully buries his nose in the crux of your shoulder in general. Especially when so close to his release- you’ve been squeezing his size continuously for the past five minutes and the scent of you, not your perfume or shampoo, can toss him off that cliff.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average at about 7.5 inches, but thick. No wonder he indulges in extensive foreplay before fucking you. He’s the perfect size, nothing too extreme but hits the correct spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s touch starved on missions and doesn’t fancy asking the boys for that, so he’s pretty horny. You don’t help dressing all pretty in white lingerie the day he gets back.

On a scale of 0-10, Simon is an 8-10.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Simon finds it difficult to sleep in general, only after a day’s fuck fest is he worn out enough to sleep soundly. Next to his partner.

[hopeluna]

heyy<3 Can you do a Katsuki x female reader comfort where the reader is getting ready for a date with him but when she's doing her makeup it isn't going the way she way she wants it to, so she gets upset and Katsuki is like comforting her? It's alr if you don't want to!!

ProHero!Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

CW: 651 words. mentions of insecurities based on looks, i aged him up as a pro hero to better fit the narrative i hope u like it <333

You sit there for what feels like years, staring at the reflection on the mirror. You decide it's absolutely pathetic. The tears that start to sting your waterline definitely don't help.

It's date night. A rare occurrence since Katsuki's missions spiked up these past few weeks, added with your work stress. Tonight was supposed to fun and relaxing.

You're feeling anything but that. Katsuki is going to be here in less than 5 minutes, as he has texted you, and here you are- still in a old t-shirt of his and worn out shorts- not ready.

It's just one of those days. The makeup on your face isn't sitting right. You've tried to do your eyeliner for the million-th time without smudging it, all the lipsticks look just wrong on you, the foundation feels more like acid on your skin the more you keep messing it up.

You know it's irrational to think about but Katsuki always looks so handsome even without trying, it's bound to be a shame to others when they see you - in all your messed up glory - alongside him.

The fan above you hums gently into the air. There are muffled conversations from the street outside, occasional shouts from kids playing and tackling each other on the ground. The light from the bathroom door you left open serves to give you a further headache. You're so focused on the throbbing ache, you don't hear the front door opening, the sound of keys.

Katsuki is rightfully startled when he walks in the room. He felt uneasy from the moment you didn't excitedly jump on him at the front door, and now the messy room and your sad face staring into the mirror. He can feel his own lips etching into a frown at the sight.

You don't seem startled from the outside when he walks up behind you, trying to make eye contact in the mirror. He squeezes your shoulder gently before speaking, "everything okay?"

You lower your head, nonchalantly gesturing to the messy table full of makeup products. Katsuki would've found your sad pout adorable if it weren't for the tears stuck to your lashes.

He lets out a low hum in understanding. Katsuki is well aware there are some days you don't particularly like how your outfits or looks turn out - he's aware of it, though he doesn't quite understand how you can't understand that he's left awestruck every time he glances at you.

His eyes flash towards you when you shuffle in your seat a little, "can we...stay in tonight?" - you look at him sheepishly, guilty for ruining the night. Katsuki only tsks at you.

"Don't be dumb thinking whatever you're thinking. Of course, we can stay in. My cooking's better than whatever restaurant we were going to go to, anyways."

30 minutes later, you feel much better with a clean face, which Katsuki insisted he help with. You had told him cheekily katsu curry when he asked what you wanted to eat. You only got a scoff in return. You tap your fingers on the cool kitchen island, softly humming at the mouth watering scent that had begun to waft through the room. The TV is muffled in the background, dimly lighting the living room with the light from the kitchen. The air is cool in a refreshing way. You think you could stay like this forever.

You frown at the sudden poke on your temple as Katsuki walks past you to the couch, hands carrying two steaming bowls.

You wordlessly follow him, snuggling into him on the couch after snatching your bowl. You choose to dig in and ignore the groan from beside you when you turn on your favourite reality tv show- the one that Katsuki claims to hate.

You think this might just be your favourite date ever.

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

I'm not sure whether your request box is open or not, but if you do, I want to drop an idea

How about ot8 sleeping habit?

Thankies!

🧠🫶🏻

hehe this was fun... this is all my own personal opinion, not facts or based on anything specific

Bangchan

Sleeps like a Dad- he is ready to wake at any moment, ranging from a faint noise to a kitchen fire. (Most definitely not caused by Felix or Seungmin...)

Usually passes out mid writing session, with his notebook or laptop within arms reach

One of those is most likely being used as a makeshift pillow

Loves to sleep facing outwards on his side, arm tucked under his pillow (or laptop or notebook or other arm because lets be real he probably isn't aslepp in bed)

Likes sleeping outwards because it makes him feel safer, like he could easily spring into action if needed

Rarely moves when he falls asleep from pure exhaustion.

If he falls asleep on normal accord, he moves like a madman

Has a secret stash of hoodies he uses only for sleep

But even then...he likes sleeping naked. Only wears clothes if he's not sleeping at home. (dude literally walks around naked...)

Lee Know

Sleeps like royalty. Perfect posture. Doesn't move.

His cats tend to join him, claiming half the bed, and he does not mind that at all

If his cats don't join him, he'll let out little pspspsp's until at least one comes (and if none of them come he will go to sleep grumpy)

Prefers absolute silence, but if he is tired enough he'll sleep through an earthquake

Tends to sleep talk, but denies vehemently that he does (he knows he does, and he knows its mostly him mumbling about choreography)

Likes to throw his sheets in the dryer to warm them up when he is feeling fancy

Usually takes a while to fall asleep

Wakes up at least once a night

Usually its because he gets a paw up a nostril

Changbin

Likes to be surrounded by plushy comfy stuff

If he is sharing a bed, radiates warmth and tends to be clung to like a teddybear (he is NOT complaining about that)

He snores, but gets embarrassed if someone mentions it

Always has to shower before bed

Lots of thinner blankets (for some reason he gives me the type to love to be warm but hate comforters?)

Overheats easily thus why he loves the thin blankets he can peel back (he just seems like a warm bodied person)

Likes falling asleep to music but will get really upset if he wakes up with it still on

Seems like he's have a nightlight ngl, not because he is scared of the dark, but because he genuinely can't see for shit in the dark

Wakes up to go pee like three times a night because he'll drink a ton of water (and still continues to drink it even though he just went to the bathroom)

Also occasionally loves a midnight snack

Hyunjin

Dramatic sleeper. Dude is sprawled out everywhere yet somehow it looks artistic

Has to put his hair up or else it will be frizzy in the morning

Tosses and turns because he dreams vividly, often about very random things

Needs the room to smell nice- candles or an essential oil diffuser is a must (typically uses a scent that aids in sleep or health, like lavender or mint if his head hurts)

Opposite of Binnie- he gets cold really easily and needs all the extra comforters he can get

Loves doing before bed skincare. Its almost ritualistic for him. (it helps soothe him)

Like how he has a set routine for skincare, he has a set routine for sleep. Goes to bed and wakes up at the same time everyday

Or at least he tries to. He tends to sleep in a lot on the weekends due to staying up late painting throughout the week

Sometimes, he'll paint things he sees in his dreams (usually pretty abstract)

Jisung

Falls asleep wherever and whenever. No questions asked (has been found by numerous staff just snoozing around the jype building)

Occasionally its due to complete burnout, but usually its just because he likes sleeping

He also tends to have really vivid and random fever dreams (once dreamt of Felix being eaten by a Cheerio and wouldn't allow him to eat cereal for a week)

He talks in his sleep. Full on conversations that don't make sense 97% of the time.

When its actually time for him to go to bed, he has a specific set up for his pillow and singular plushie he needs (one pillow on the right side of the bed, then the plushie and then the second pillow on top of his head as he sleeps- don't ask its just what he needs)

Tends to kick off all of his blankets during his slumber, usually waking up with just his plushie on the bed, both pillows and all covers trashed on the floor

But if someone else is in the bed dude is as stiff as a rock

Usually falls asleep to funny videos, since it helps quiet his mind

Unfortunately, that means he laughs a lot in his sleep which is a bit creepy (scares the shit outta people)

Sometimes things are so funny he'll wake up from laughing so hard.

Felix

Sleeps like a literal baby. Quiet and still.

Enjoys soothing sounds like rain or waves to go to sleep.

Rarely snores

Sometimes wakes himself up with soft giggles (usually its because someone cracked a joke in his dream)

People sleeping next to him say he radiates a calming warmth. Like sleeping next to sunshine.

He usually hugs something while he is asleep, a pillow or a plushie (changbin body pillow ?????)

Likes falling asleep to the room being chilly, but needs it to be warm or else he refuses to leave bed

Meaning he needs to get up in the middle of the night to turn off the fan.

He is the type to "accidentally" steal blankets (he does it on purpose 100%)

Seungmin

The most disciplined sleeper; sticks to a consistent bedtime and wake-up routine no matter how busy his schedule is.

Prefers sleeping on his back with perfect posture, almost as if posing for a photoshoot.

Rarely moves in his sleep, waking up in nearly the same position he fell asleep in. (sometimes its a bit creepy)

Needs complete silence and will actively seek out a quieter spot if his surroundings are noisy.

Hates feeling too warm while sleeping; he often cracks a window or adjusts the thermostat.

Keeps his bed tidy with just one pillow and a light blanket. (its gets too stuffy with too much stuff on the bed)

Occasionally hums softly or sings a lullaby under his breath before falling asleep.

Gets annoyed by anyone who wakes him unnecessarily and isn’t shy about showing his irritation. (jisung is usually the one to wake him up with excited screaming- tied with changbin)

Wakes up refreshed and ready for the day, often teasing others about their grogginess.

Jeongin

Sleeps face down with his arms hugging his pillow tightly, often burying his face in it. (dude is literally close to suffocating himself, more often than not chan rolls him over)

Snores loudly but adorably, puffing his cheeks out as he exhales a snore that sounds like a 6.0 magnitude earthquake.

Loves being bundled up in a mountain of blankets, even if he ends up half-buried under them (again with the suffocation, he stresses chan out)

Wakes up with his hair sticking out in every possible direction, but it is heartachingly cute.

Talks in his sleep occasionally, mumbling random things (most of the time one of his Hyung's names comes up followed by an evil giggle, leaving them paranoid about what their precious maknae is plotting)

Kicks off the covers in his sleep but then immediately searches for them when he gets cold.

Prefers sleeping with the lights off but needs his phone nearby to check before bed.

Wakes up easily if startled but can fall right back asleep like nothing happened.

Usually wakes up groggy but his mood instantly changes at the mention of breakfast (which he finishes in about 4 bites max)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[chososcamgirl]

CLUBBING TOPS! - yeah this bitch goes partying EVERY weekend. also most weekdays bc sjap yn has a high alcohol tolerance. alcohol poisoning? never heard of her. these tops do it every. single. time. without fail. she wears any one of these slutty tops and she’s going home with a man. this girl has a mission! (and no it’s not to sleep with every dj that plays ayesha erotica for her. looks at megumi) don’t be fooled though she’s always down to share her clothes with maki or nobara bc she’s a girls girl (not rlly but she just loves her friends so much) she once caught panda trying to put her tank studio top one once and LOST IT. she started screaming at him that he already stretched it and he needs to buy her a new one… whole time the material was just stretchy she just wanted another one in a different colour (bc why would she pay $120 for a top when panda can!)

ACCESSORIES! - yn is a silver girl BY FAR. you’ll always catch her leaving with one if not all of these. she basically lives in hoops. showers in them, sleeps in them (i know that back piece is smells NASTY) she lives off the quote “the bigger the hoop the bigger the hoe”. MARC JACOBS FRIENDSHIP NECKLACE!!!! (yes i might’ve based this off me and my bff irl ok burn me) she has one on but the real question is who has the other? hint starts with p and ends in anda. but don’t be silly there’s no duos or trios cough yes cough in the group. they all have matching necklaces for eachother bc they couldn’t find a 4 friendship way necklace laugh out loud. she just prefers the marc jacobs one bc it makes her feel superior. CLIPS!!!!! yes she’s a sucker for cute hair clips arrest her. you will never see her with flyaways nah uh.

WHATS IN HER BAG! - her most prized possession… miss miu miu… she got it from the group for her 19th birthday (yes they all were broke afterwards and dine and dashed dinner but hey! can u blame them, that shit is expensive) and in so called expensive bag is ALWAYS a sonny angel. yes he does bring her good luck. the only time she forgot to put a sonny angel in her bag was when she got harassed via imsg.. sound familiar? this bitch vlogs EVERY MOMENT of her life. she has a secret youtube account where she posts her cute little city vlogs of her and her friends. she doesn’t expect it to go viral but it does shortly after she debuted man eater. one time she was at dinner and forgot her handy cam so she called her friend at home to come pick her up, drop her at home to grab her handy cam and then drop her back to dinner which she arrived shortly after her food did (wdym this isn’t a personal experience… heh… i lied sorry bff) and lastly her infamous pink hello kitty lighter. for blunts. and cigarettes occasionally. but mainly blunts.

TEES! - these are just some of the tops she would wear on air. the listeners can’t see her anyways but she loves to dress cute because it makes her feel good doing so. she was always so expressive via fashion because it’s illegal to kill somebody you hate crowd boos

BOTTOMS! - yeah so this bitch basically lives in mini skirts and booty shorts. no mind that her ass is out she refuses to wear pants. on the rare occasion she DOES wear pants it’s usually just bootcut jeans that flare at the end because it makes her ass look good.

OUTERWEAR! - she loooveesssss her jackets like she adores them. cold? putting on a jacket. being harassed? putting on a jacket legs are freezing due to said mini skirt? putting on a jacket. such a multi use piece of clothing! also comes in handy to choke out roommates when they eat your leftovers from the night before! oops!

SHOES! - this girl only wears two types of shoes. heels or knee high boots. nevermind that we are going to the beach she WILL pull up with kitten heels. but who needs the beach when clubbing is just as fun right? she does everything in heels. cook, work, griddy, kick a guy in the dick for groping her? you name it. put this bitch in 5 inch stilettos and she would still would NOT falter once not even stumble. she is a pro and actually needs to be considered for the olympics because that footwork technique is impeccable.

masterlist

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you feel insecure about your boring life. optimus is quick to make you feel better about yourself

cw: angst, fluff, yapper (reader) x listener (optimus), optimus is fucking obsessed with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 1033

The last thing you expected to see after leaving work was a massive red-and-blue truck parked perfectly at the curb, just a few meters from the entrance. You’d recognize that color scheme and vehicle type anywhere — someone had come to visit. You didn’t even try to hide the smile that crept onto your lips.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Your coworker’s voice pulled you out of your brief trance. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, though just moments ago, the two of you had been making small talk.

"Yup."

"You never mentioned him."

Because he’s a damn alien, you almost blurted, but you bit your tongue in time.

"He’s a long-haul truck driver, so he’s rarely in Jasper. Hey, thanks for the recipe, but I’ve gotta go. See you tomorrow!"

After a quick hug, you headed briskly toward the truck. She’d surely grill you for details tomorrow, and you’d need to have your excuses ready, but that was a problem for later. You had far better things to do now.

You opened the passenger door to avoid drawing attention to an empty driver seat and climbed inside. The familiar interior immediately put you at ease, and when the owner of the truck spoke, butterflies that had been dormant in your stomach suddenly came to life. You’d known him for years, yet his voice alone still made you feel like a giddy teenager. The perfect man, as it turned out, was actually an extraterrestrial being.

"Greetings, my dearest."

"Hi, love. To what do I owe this visit?"

Optimus started the engine and took the route toward the base. You knew it by heart, having traveled it countless times with Bumblebee or Bulkhead when you needed an escort. Yet, despite being your partner, Optimus rarely had time for dates. You didn’t hold it against him; you fully understood the duties that came with being a leader. But there were moments, many intimate moments when Optimus wished he could spend more time with you. He wanted to be there for you through every good and bad moment, but he couldn’t, and it tore at his spark.

"Front lines have been quiet for now. I wanted to take the opportunity to see you."

You reached out and caressed the panel in front of you. You didn’t miss the momentary, louder hum of the engine. Adorable.

Out of habit, you started recounting all the work and life events that had happened during your time apart. You summarized the movies that had intrigued you, bored you, or changed your brain chemistry. You talked about books and poetry, focusing mostly on those he probably would enjoy as well. Optimus then offered his thoughts, sharing his perspective and making a mental list of works to study when he has the time, so he could discuss them with you in depth later. Maybe, if he got lucky, you’d agree to analyze them together, curled up against his neck.

After catching up on the past few weeks, you naturally transitioned to today’s events, animatedly describing how a certain Cameron had gotten on your nerves.

"I asked him a few times to fix my work computer because, you know, it’s his job, but no! Every time, he came up with some stupid excuse just to avoid—"

"Optimus," Ratchet’s voice broke in over the radio, interrupting your rant. "I hate to disturb your rendezvous, but your presence would be helpful at the base. No rush, though."

Oh, right. For a moment, you’d forgotten about your partner’s responsibilities, bombarding him with stories about work that didn’t even begin to compare with Optimus’s adventures. A pang of guilt hit you. The enthusiasm drained away, replaced by a sudden self-resentment. Instantly, the story that had been the highlight of your day shrank to the size of an atom, meaning absolutely nothing in the grander scale of beings you shared a relationship with. It wasn’t the first time these thoughts had interrupted your fun, but you’d never voiced them out loud, burying them deep within. Too bad they always found their way back to the surface.

You hoped Optimus hadn’t noticed your sudden change in body language, but deep down, you knew he had. He always did. Always perceptive and caring.

Trying to mask your discomfort, you gave a small smile.

"Hi, Ratchet!" you greeted.

The medic grumbled something under his breath.

"I am on my way to the base," Optimus reported, and the connection cut off.

"[Your Name]," he began, his tone changing. From the usual military formality, it softened into a gentle warmth. He’d seen right through you, as always. "Is everything alright?"

You didn’t want to perform tough. Not today, not in such a raw and tender moment.

"No. I don’t think so? It’s just… in your life, everything is so grand and significant; there’s always some action. My workday is interesting if a bird lands on the windowsill by my desk. Sometimes, I feel like my stories bore you because, let’s be honest, they’re boring. My job is boring."

"I understand. I am sorry you feel that way. It was never my intention to belittle you."

As always, he put all the blame on himself. You wished you could hug him, to take away at least a fraction of the guilt he carried every day on his shoulders.

"I know," you sighed. "You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for getting all worked up."

"There is no need to apologize. I am grateful that you opened up to me. Personally, I do not think your life is uninteresting. It is yours and yours alone; no one else in the world experiences it in quite the same way. To me, your stories are unique, as they differ so drastically from the realities of my life. I wish you could think of them the same way—to be proud of who you are and what you represent."

"You always give me something to think about before bed," you laughed. "Thank you, love. I’ll try to work on myself."

"There are still a few Earth minutes before we reach the base," he informed you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to finish the story about Cameron?"

[searchingforserendipity25]

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

[zorosdimples]

UNDER HIS THUMB ꒰ uraume x reader x sukuna ꒱

minors and blank/ageless blogs do not interact—i will block you. cw: suggestive content. nonconsensual nudity. dubious touching. brief descriptions of cannibalism and violence. suicide mention. reader is referred to as “bride” and “wife.” reader has breasts. wc: 1053. notes: uraume ily—please ditch shitkuna for me <3 (based on this idea)

A fire blazes in the yawning hearth, bathing your bedchamber in a warm titian. The shadows of flames leap and dance across the cragged stone walls—a solar flare—a cosmic spectacle. Logs and branches resembling human bones sputter and spark, crackling in your ears. You shift in your seat. 

The diaphanous veil remains pinned to your crown as Uraume’s fingers move deftly through your locks, the sweeping gossamer that brushes your ankles now pooling on the floor. They unravel the intricate updo they crafted for the ceremony, your hair a glowing halo in the firelight, head bowed in gentle subservience. The pins that bite at your scalp are crusted in blood; the sharp pain has long-since softened into a dull throb.

“I hate him,” you announce. 

(It’s how you cope with your precarious situation: burying your fears beneath carefully woven layers of disdain.) 

Barren aside from a bed, a wardrobe, and an armchair, your threadbare accommodations are as cozy as a dungeon. No torch, tapestry, or looking glass adorns the walls. Your companion’s expression is hidden as they continue their work atop your head.

Uraume chastises you after a few beats, affectation frigid as ice. “You shouldn’t speak of your husband in such a manner.” 

You snort. This one-sided union will only further scar the ugly face of matrimony; looking upon your captor with respect or affection is as likely as you kissing the cheek of your slain mother a final time. “My ‘husband’ for all of ten minutes.”

“And still your husband, nonetheless.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you snap. 

Uraume pushes you to your feet and fluffs the veil with a hum. They circle you, appraising your body—the flimsy, silken robe that ripples across your curves hides nothing from their piercing stare—then, for what must be the fifth time, they adjust the knot that holds the garment together. When their eyes meet yours, you find yourself falling for the ruse, plucking fresh buds from a field of fuchsia.

How you wish their gaze held more than cool indifference.

Ever perceptive, they reach out to gingerly tuck a wayward strand behind your ear; if you close your eyes and still your heaving chest, you can pretend that it’s an intimate gesture—the touch of a lover. “Rarely do we have a say in our own fates,” Uraume muses. 

Fidgeting with your fingers, you quell the urge to embrace your attendant. (It’s a disgraceful thought for a newlywed. But you can’t spool in the words that unfurl from your lips, the edges raw, frayed with longing.)

“I would have taken my life if it hadn’t been for you, Uraume. I can’t stand him.” 

“Master Sukuna would never allow you to harm yourself.” 

“Tch—that vile brute cares little for my well being.” Hatred flares within your chest, your once-blooming heart now withered with rot. Tears of anguish blur your vision and make each syllable tremble. “If he didn’t want to harm me, he wouldn’t have murdered and feasted on my family.” 

A smile tucks itself in the corners of Uraume’s lips like a secret, though you miss it—misty-eyed and waist-deep in a deluge of painful memories. “You seem to forget that I prepared their flesh at my lord’s behest.” 

“I can’t fault you for being trapped under his thumb; you’re kinder than you give yourself credit for, anyhow.” 

They chuckle darkly. “And what leads you to believe that?” 

It doesn’t occur to you until this moment that you’ve edged closer to Uraume. If you leaned forward, you would smell the frost on their porcelain skin, taste the mint on their breath. Despite yourself, you reach out, cupping their cheek. 

“You’ve been my devoted caretaker since I arrived, patient and helpful at every turn. Your presence is the only constant here—my sole comfort.”

“Oh? Is my blushing bride ready to consummate our unholy union?” A rumbling voice cracks the tense air open like a bone, marrow seeping out, juices staining the tender earth. 

Your neck snaps to the doorway. Your monster of a husband nearly blots out the frame with his inhuman physique, clothed in nothing but a simple pair of black trousers, both sets of arms crossed. Disgust pinches your brow and purses your lips; you sneer. 

“With you? Never.”

Amused by your vehemence, the King of Curses approaches you, both mouths curled into wolfish grins. Uraume bows as Sukuna invades your space, two clawed hands wrapping around your waist, the other two cradling your skull. He demands your attention, irises a wine-dark sea of skeletons and ichor. A cursed siren urges you to plunge into its depths. End your suffering.

“Uraume—has my wife been inappropriate with you in my absence?” 

Without hesitation, they answer: “Yes, my lord.” 

Several sets of eyes—one belonging to Uraume, the others to Sukuna—gorge on your discomfort. You bristle under their scrutiny, and fruitlessly attempt to rip yourself from your husband’s grasp, nails scratching angry lines across his tattooed forearms. 

He clicks his tongue. “My naughty little bride.”  

Bile burns your throat at the mock-endearment, bitterness coating your tongue. For as resolved as you’ve been, you shake with rage, the hulking beast before you stoking the embers of your wrath. He smiles something sharp and wicked before releasing you. You stumble backwards, limp as a ragdoll. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna commands. 

There’s an unspoken agreement between master and servant. When Uraume steps forward and swiftly unties your robes, you shriek, the fabric slipping open to expose your nude form. They proceed to rip the garment from your body; it falls to the floor in wispy shreds. 

Attempting to preserve your dignity, you scramble to wrap an arm around your chest and press a palm between your legs. “This hardly seems proper,” you pant. 

Sukuna snickers as he sits at the foot of your bed, spreading his legs. “How else is a ‘vile brute’ supposed to learn the intricacies of his little wife’s body if not through careful examination?” 

As much as you want to spew poison at him, you gasp when Uraume’s chilly lips graze the arch of your neck, their delicate hands slipping up to caress the swell of your breasts. Unable to stifle the moan that warbles past your lips, you make the sinister decision to revel in this pleasure—no matter how short-lived, underhanded, or wrong it may be.

[miyukisu]

All Over Me .ᐟ

❤︎ | Amidst the cruelty of the world, he's your therapy ╰ feat. toji fushiguro x afab! reader

tags - based on Therapy by Khalid, friends with benefits, angst, p*rn with plot, yearning, toxic-ish relationship, both of them have self-destructive habits, drinking, drunk sex, non-jjk au but Toji remains an assassin, soft dom! Toji, sweet & passionate sex, shower sex, creampies, overstimulation, happy ending, mentions of blood and injuries but not from the sex, second chances, praise, p in v

minors do not interact

They say that time heals all wounds. But you've ceased to believe that. The gaping emptiness in your heart has never seemed to fix itself no matter how long you waited.

But there were rare moments when it felt fine—when your heart felt full enough that it could burst. Temporary fix was what it was. But it was better than nothing at all. You found solace in the one person that you shouldn't. But again, it was better than nothing at all.

You watched as he got up and sat by the edge of the bed, preparing to leave. As much as you loved his broad back and the way his muscles rippled every time he moved, you hated to see it like this—as a sign of his impending departure.

"You're leaving?" you ask as if this wasn’t a regular occurrence. But you still ask the same question each time and he answers every time. It's the same thing no matter what; Toji fucks you real good and leaves right after.

He picks up the black shirt that was discarded to the side before the two of you got frisky. Toji easily slid it back on his hulking frame. And maybe it’s because you were fucking with no strings attached that you oddly felt aroused and sad at the same time. The way he dressed up to leave was effortlessly hot—in fact, anything that Toji Fushiguro did, you found it hot. But that never changed the fact that he always would leave you high and dry.

A soft and almost disappointed sigh left his scarred lips. “Yeah. I gotta go,” he replies flatly.

Every inch he takes farther from you—a part of your heart hollows. And recently, you’ve been feeling as if there was a piece of your heart that never felt filled up like it used to. There was always something missing.

It’s not like you didn’t know what it was. You did know and that part is what scared you the most… because you were sure you have fallen in love with Toji Fushiguro. The missing piece that you were secretly craving for was his love—pure, unadulterated love. The same love both of you agreed to never fall into.

But here you were.

Usually when he said he was leaving, that was the end of it. No more words were to be exchanged. But tonight was different.

“I’m not coming back after this,” he adds. He was as straightforward as one can be, yet the thought couldn’t fully sink in to you. No, you didn’t want it to sink in. It had to be fake or you swear you’d die.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Any logical argument flew right out the window the moment he said he’d never return. “What? What do you mean! Toji? But we were… we were doing okay? Right?” you asked rather desperately. “Right?”

“Do you love me?”

The question was heavy—too fucking heavy for you to handle. But you figured what would happen next lies in how you choose to answer his question. You knew the right answer—the one that would make him stay.

But by God; you cannot find it in yourself to lie to him and especially to yourself. You loved him. That was the fact of the matter, regardless of how hard you try to deny it.

However, soon as you uttered the word "yes" —Toji Fushiguro was out the door and out of your life.

────────────

Toji thought he had made the right decision. All of a sudden, Shiu was dumping so much work on him that he had to work until the late hours of the evening. He wouldn't really have time to visit you anyway. So it all worked out in the end.

But those were thoughts he conjured up to comfort himself. He didn't really believe that he had gone down the right path with you.

Or maybe it was some kind of withdrawal? Perhaps the sex was too fucking good that now he wasn't getting it—he was starting to feel miserable. It was the same as the time he quit drinking or the time he quit gambling.

Then, he wondered when he let go of those things.

"Ah... it was because of her," he thought to himself. He inadvertently became a better person because of the woman he claimed he only slept with.

Toji felt awful for making you feel like it was your fault everything fell apart—when in fact he was the one who fell hard. He was the one who was afraid that his feelings would fuck everything up.

Both of you break rules. Both of you were very very miserable people. And maybe that's why you two go so well together.

────────────

Toji knew he was fucked in the head. He had to be. After all, he did kill people for a living. But also because he was currently walking up to your apartment at 2 in the morning covered in his own blood.

He didn't care if anyone saw him or if you figure out his line of work. All he knew in his head—no, his heart—that he wanted to see you.

The feeling that he had been seeking out for weeks finally filled him to his very bones now that he stood in front of you. He was sure that you'd be asleep, but you answered your door way too fast. Behind you, he can see the glass of whiskey you had been nursing before he came over. It broke his heart a bit that you returned to drinking most likely because of him.

You weren't sure what to feel. On one hand, the man you dreamt of every night of coming back did come back—knocking at your door, asking for forgiveness. But on another, he was fucking covered in blood.

"W-what happened to you?"

"I kill people for a living," he says, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore. "It's mine. Don't worry," he adds, referring to the blood that had dried and painted his body—as if that makes things any better.

Rather than be scared like every other person would be, all your brain did was justify him. The real world was cruel; people like him had to exist. People just live too much of a comfortable life that jobs like these scare them before considering the nuances. Maybe he killed bad people specifically. That was okay, right?

It had to be. You wanted nothing more than to have him again. Every fiber of your body told you so.

Maybe you were fucked in the head too.

────────────

Did it make you a bad person for feeling so good in his arms? With his lips on yours and his hands groping very part of you that he could? Probably. But you could care less.

The warm water of the shower trickled down your entangled bodies. Not much of cleaning was done when the both of you were too busy making out and making up for lost time. Truth be told, it was crazy how both of you just made your way here without much words exchanged.

It was like you just knew—his sins had to be washed away and you had to be in each other's presence again.

"I can't take it anymore," he whispered in your ear. Toji grabbed the flesh of your thigh, lifting your leg up and hooking it around his waist. His aching cock teased your dripping entrance.

Oh, how he missed this feeling.

There was a sense of desperation and need with the way he sunk himself into you so quickly. He sheathed everything right away without a second thought. After not feeling his cock for a few weeks, the abrupt stretch was painfully good.

He had to go faster. He lifted your other leg up, now hooking both around his waist so you hovered in the air. Toji held you up easily by the ass—big calloused hands gripping on your smooth silky skin.

He fucked into you without a care in the world. If anything, all that mattered in the moment was for him to chase that high that he missed. Every hard thrust he gave you earned a new scratch on his back from your nails.

Toji was relentless with how he pounded his cock into your weeping pussy—that all you could do was to hold on to him for dear life. A string of moans and curses left your lips and they went straight to his ears, urging him to go even faster.

You were louder than usual since you were a bit tipsy from the whiskey, but more so because he was fucking you so good. You hoped that the sound of the running water would mask a bit of your noises.

It was like your cunt had memorized the shape, the curve, and every vein of his dick. You were made for each other, more ways than one.

"Fuckkk," he groaned. "You missed this, baby? 'Cuz I sure fucking did."

A breathless moan came out of you rather than a coherent answer. It hasn't even been 15 minutes and you were already out of it. "Hah... yes. Missed this. Missed you."

Toji felt a bit ridiculous how his balls tightened and his cock twitched at your sweet words. It only confirmed his feelings. What he was feeling right now wasn't merely lust, but also love. To show you his sincerity, he made sure to shoot his load deep within you—right where you can feel it.

────────────

He was feeling more generous than usual today. And by that he meant he needs to fill you up even more. Though it was hardly an excuse for him just wanting to wrap his dick with the warmth of your pussy.

The fact that both of you were still wet from the shower became an afterthought as he carried you to bed. It was going to get drenched anyway. Besides, he was starting to feel confined in the small shower space. He had a primal need to bend you over backwards, to fuck you senseless in every way that he possibly could.

"Don't hafta move for me, alright? Lemme take care of you hm?" he gently whispered in your ear. He let you be a pillow princess for the night as a way to atone for his mistake. His pretty lady was about to get nothing else but unsullied pleasure.

He softly bit into your neck before sliding his cock right back where it belonged. Toji felt strange that louder groans were leaving his lips, hence the need to bite your neck, your shoulders, and especially your chest.

His pace never slowed as his lips roamed your upper half. He left marks all over because he thought it would make him feel better—to see the proof that you were all his. He rolled your sensitive nipple between the pads of his fingers, wanting to push you further.

"Keep making those sounds. Fuck. I won't last long if you're like this."

Without warning, he slid out momentarily to flip you over. Your cheek was now pressed against the damp sheet of your bed while he held up your ass in the air. He meant it when he said you didn't have to move at all.

He gripped your waist so tightly that you were sure it would leave marks, but that wouldn't be the first time it happened.

He easily slid his cock right back in, rearing to thrust mindlessly into you again. But before that, he leaned down and pressed gentle kisses on your nape—all the way down to your back. Once he was satisfied, he began to snap his hips against you.

Toji was able to go faster now that you were on the bed. It left you a drooling and moaning mess. He let go of your hips, deciding to plant one hand on the mattress beside your head while the other slithered down to play with your neglected clit.

Toji was a man of many talents, but he was certainly the best at fucking your pussy and toying with your clit at the same time. You don't think any other man could fuck you as good as he does. And you might be right.

For some reason, he too was feeling extra sensitive. Maybe those lonely nights he spent fisting his cock to the memories of you two just weren't enough to satisfy him completely. He wanted this. He needed this.

He leaned down, almost crushing you with his weight as he wrapped his thick arms around your waist. He wanted to feel all of your warmth and inhale your scent while he pounded into you.

"Toji... so good. You fuck me so good."

"Yeah? You think so?" Another groan leaves him. "Pussy takes me in so well... makes me think we're made for each other hm?"

Hearing him say that made your pussy clamp down on him. And you know he felt it with the way he squeezed you even more with his arms. He was totally overwhelming you, but you weren't one to complain.

A small smile crossed his lips once he felt your sweet pussy flutter around him. He missed this feeling too.

"You gonna cum for me now? C'mon let it all out. You deserve it."

And you did while screaming his name. You came so violently that your vision went white and blurry for a moment. Tears rolled down your eyes, overjoyed with the intense orgasm, but more so because of his sweet words.

He hasn't said it yet, but you knew that you felt the same way for each other.

Though he wasn't done yet. He was far from done.

You were still reeling from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you when he peeled your body off of the bed. Toji kept his arms wrapped snugly around your body as made both of you kneel upright on the mattress.

One hand held you by the waist while the other roughly cupped one breast. Now that you've came more than once, he was free to chase his own climax.

He kept fucking into you—wanting nothing else but to cum buckets into your pussy. He couldn't help but bite into your shoulder again, trying to suppress the embarrassing sounds he threatened to spill out.

Your ass was starting to hurt from all the skin slapping against each other and your cunt was overstimulated as ever. He was breaking you, but you loved every second of it.

"I'm so close, ma... Tell me that you love me. Tell me," he commanded.

"I love you... so so much. I love you, Toji."

Shit. He wasn't strong enough to resist that. Ropes of cum filled your cunt. Toji held you down on his dick as if you were going to escape from him. He rode out his high, letting his cock twitch inside you until nothing was left of him.

────────────

Once you realized that you had passed out, a sinking feeling filled your chest. You were scared to be met in an empty and dirtied bed—alone like before.

But you were surprised to feel clean and dry sheets against your skin. But most of all, you were happy to see him beside you, asleep and with the most relaxed expression you've seen on him.

You could sleep soundly again knowing that he would stay for good this time.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note hmm, I guess I'm kinda happy with this. I hope I did him justice

[abibliophobiaa]

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

-

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along. 

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

-

-

[crescenthistory]

you are my favourite silence

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Jessica's lecture and the eventual nightmare-catalysed-reunion, from Paul's tortured, yearning perspective. Based on "in the silence, there is an us".

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, angst, hurt/comfort, references to nightmares, intense yearning, descriptions of anxiety and panic, feeling like the world is demanding too much of you, being super in love but not able to say it out loud, cuddling, lady jessica being a c*ckblock/heartbreaker

***

In the face of change, of being pushed into the final phase of growing up, Paul wanted to cling to you like a lifeline. To the gentle rhythm that once existed between him and you, the one he felt becoming more and more unbalanced as the world around dumped expectations on you both. He almost had not noticed it happening at first. You had grown up beside him, a constant presence, and yet now, each time he glanced your way, he was increasingly aware of what could be taken from him. He was only just beginning to grasp how much he cared for you, and the idea that you might feel like you did not belong here, or worse, being shown you do not, made something twist deep inside him.

Sitting beside you in the library, Paul could hear his mother’s words – sharp and pointed, even as he believed they were meant to guide. His whole body felt tense, not because of Jessica’s talk of duty, or the future he would soon shoulder, but because of you. Because he knew what her gaze did to you, how it picked at the part of you that never felt enough. When Jessica moved on to discuss personal relationships, the weight of her underlying meaning came pressing down, and Paul could barely keep his attention on her. His eyes flicked toward you, searching for any sign that her words were cutting too deep. Even when scolded himself, all he could think about is how it would affect you.

He hated this. Hated the way his mother’s eyes would linger on you, as though you were being measured and found wanting. It wasn’t true, but he knew you felt it. He could see it in the way you lowered your head, trying to hide from the sharpness of her tone. His jaw clenched. You were not some distraction, you were his best friend, and that should count for something. You were the reason he could breathe when it all felt either too small or too big.

When the speech was finally over and Jessica left them alone, Paul let out a breath, half-realising he did not listen to a word she said towards the end. The silence between the two of you felt heavy, thicker than it should have been. You should have been able to laugh it off together, snicker at his mother’s dramatics, but he knew you would not do that anymore. He risked a glance at you. His heart sinking at the way you avoided looking back. 

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, unsure how else to cut through the tension. When you didn’t respond, he moved closer, needing to bridge the growing distance. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother –”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in sharply, and Paul flinched. The tone in your voice was one you rarely ever used on him, only in your worst moments. He knew what it meant. You were pulling away, not just from the conversation, but from him. He could feel it. He wanted to stop it, wanted to reach out and pull you back to where you belonged, beside him. “Maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

No.

Paul’s chest tightened as you began to move, began to slip from his grasp. Before he could even think, his hands moved on their own, gently but firmly gripping yours, desperate to ground you. “No,” he said aloud, his voice more forceful than he intended. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t have the words. Not really. Not for what he was trying to say. All he needed was for you to understand, to know how important you were to him, but no words were worthy in the moment. His mother could never see it the way he did, she was too caught up in her visions for his future to realise when the only future he cared about was right in front of his nose. She didn’t understand how all the qualities that could make him a good duke were the ones you brought out of him.

He could see your brows twitch in the way they do when you are holding back tears. “But your mother thinks –”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a brief moment, Paul felt a surge of panic. He blinked, startled by his own admission that he had not realised rang so true for him, but he didn’t let go of your hands. His grip tightened slightly, and he looked at you, willing you to understand all he could not say. “I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he continued, trying to keep his voice level. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

She doesn’t know you’re the lifeboat. 

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he confessed, his voice raw. He was laying it all out, unsure if he was saying the right things or making things worse, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was pleading a case. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

He saw the way your eyes briefly squeezed shut, the blush still remaining in your cheeks, the slightly quivering curve of your mouth, all that internal struggle on your beautiful face. It tore him apart. You wanted to argue, he could see that, but something held you back. Paul wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He felt you giving up instead of giving in, as you softly said, “We just need to be more careful.”

Careful. That word grated against his every instinct. Paul didn’t want careful. He wanted you, the way you had always been – close, inseparable. 

But then you said, “We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s heart sank, his body sagging slightly as he was giving up, too. Not on you, on himself, on his situation. He rubbed at his face, trying to shake the helplessness threatening to take over. You were right, but it felt painfully wrong.

“But we’re not acting like kids,” he muttered, trying to keep you from slipping too far away. 

“Aren’t we?” you whispered, your voice filled with something that sounded like heartbreak. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul didn’t have a response. Not immediately, too caught up with the ache in his chest as his disturbance turned existential. Why must sharing a close connection with someone, being tethered by someone, be a thing of only childhood? He felt he needed it more and more the older he got. Yet, he knew better than anyone all he had to do and all he had to be, and that it was time to step up to the challenge. But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose this, lose you, at least this part of you it felt he had always possessed. The idea that things had to change, that you couldn’t be the way you had always been – it was unbearable.

“Nothing has changed though,” he finally said, aiming for conviction. “Not between us.”

Deep down, Paul knew you were right. Everything had changed, just not in the way you were currently discussing, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was not ready to face it. 

When you stood up to leave, the panic flared again in his chest. He wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to pull you back down beside him. Show you why you had to stay. He did anything but, he could only watch as you walked away, leaving him behind with the oppressive atmosphere of the library. His finger tips lingered on your seat as he clung to your promise: I will see you tomorrow. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline made of plastic.

Paul stared at the spot where you left, the weight of the future settling heavily on his shoulders. 

The following weeks, Paul did everything in his power to bury the gnawing unease that twisted inside him. He cherry-picked from his continuing lectures from his mother, trying to keep only the positives and leave out all the doom everyone seemed to hand him these days. The tension that hung between you only worsened in the silence of the castle’s long nights. You had always shared a restlessness after dark, a sort of curse that made sleep seem impossible unless you were together. But after his mother’s warnings about appearances and responsibilities, Paul felt obligated to put distance between you, to keep his emotions in check. At least for as long as you claimed that was what you wanted, too.

God, he hated it.

At first, he tried to do everything right, tried to focus more on his studies, his duties, his pretenses. He could not afford to slip up, not when he was being watched so closely, not when he was meant to prove himself a future Duke. But the more he tried to be the person he was expected to be, the more he felt himself, Paul, not the future duke of House Atreides, unraveling. 

Every moment spent apart from you gnawed at him, like a thread slowly being pulled loose from the fabric of his mind. His concentration splintered; during meetings, his eyes trailed to the door, wondering if you would ever walk in, during training, his movements felt sluggish, his mind always wandering to whether you were okay, whether you missed him too.

The longer you kept your distance, the harder it became to focus on anything but you and the looming elephant that was your friendship.

He soaked up every interaction you had like a parched man trying to survive in the desert. Even something as simple as sitting beside you during meals or brushing past you in the hallways felt like a lifeline. He clung to those moments, storing them away like precious memories, replaying them in his mind when he found himself alone. He knew you still saw each other a relatively normal amount, the amount usual friends dedicate to each other – but it was far from enough.

During it all you kept up your facade too well for Paul’s state. It was like you practiced it all when you could not sleep at night, you were polite, composed, like nothing had changed between you. Paul knew you better, of course. He could see through it, see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The bags forming under your eyes, the strain on your smiles, the flickering of your gaze when met by any member of the Atreides family now. You were just as affected by this distance as he was, but you were better at hiding it from everyone but him. It only made him want to reach out more, to break through that wall, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

Paul sat beside you at the long wooden table in the dining hall, trying to act as though nothing had changed. The usual hum of formalities and business between his tutors, his mother, and the few remaining nobles blurred into a background buzz. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the tension sitting between you and him. He tried to tell himself the change was not that large, out of all the seats in the room, you were still sat together. 

He sneaked a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting perfectly still, your posture as composed and graceful as you had been trained to be, eyes downcast as you picked at the meal in front of you. On the surface, you looked calm, indifferent even, but Paul could see it so easily. The way your fingers gripped your knife a little too tight, the way your shoulders tensed as if trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. It’s not the same.

Despite his appetite having long since vanished, Paul tried to take a bite of his food. Beside him, you sipped your water, eyes flicking up just once to meet his before darting away again. The briefest connection, but it hit him like a shockwave. He was desperate for more of you, the real you, not this version that was carefully packaged to meet the standards of the room.

A thought ran through his head and before he could compose himself, Paul’s foot nudged yours lightly under the table. A small, almost childlike gesture. His heart raced, wondering if you would acknowledge it, if you would look at him like you used to. When you glanced his way, a flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, a sign that you were still there, but it withered away fast.

You straightened in your seat, breaking eye contact, your attention turning back to your plate. A clear signal that you couldn’t do this, not here. Not now.

Paul’s stomach twisted, and he gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles white against the silver. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There had been no distance between you before. You used to laugh together, share inside jokes over dinners like this. You used to sneak glances that said everything without needing words. Now, there was just this unbearable restraint. The longer it stretched on, the more suffocating it became.

He wanted so desperately to just be your best friend again, like when you were younger, when things were simple. When sharing a bed was not plagued by conventions or the expectations of his mother. Back then, it had been about adventure and laughter. Now it was about survival for poor Paul, it was all he needed to secure him. He wanted you to know how much he cared, how much he needed you. 

He remained silent.

When night fell, it became unbearable. Alone in his room, Paul felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibilities, the expectations, the growing distance between the two of you. Sleep evaded him. Each night felt longer than the last, and the silence of the castle, once comforting, now felt suffocating. 

He thought of you constantly. 

He wondered if you were having nightmares, the way you always did when there were no storms to distract you. You never reacted well to the stillness of nights like this, and Paul knew it. He knew you too well. 

Should I go to her? 

The thought flickered in his mind more than once, the worry gnawing at him more than usual, but something held him back. His mother’s words still lingered in the air between you, but more importantly your words. You asked for space, even if the reasons felt as tragic to him as they did. He could not risk making things worse, could not risk losing you completely by overstepping. Nevertheless, the longer he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the more unbearable the thought of doing nothing became.

The hours drifted on, whisking away into the night air streaming in through his cracked open window. He had zeroed in on the sound in hopes it could form a lullaby, but to no avail. In the silence of his room, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Before he could finish thinking, he was up and out of bed, hand on the door. He was fully expecting to open the door and be met with a wall of nothingness, forced to face how truly delerious he was becoming, but the possibility of any other outcome made him throw the door open without hesitation. 

His pounding heart all but lit up as he saw you standing in the doorway, almost hidden in the darkness. Surprise was etched onto your features and your hand was half-raised, presumably to knock on the door. A relieved smile made it onto your lips, and Paul briefly wondered whether you were aware, or if it was instinct. He breathed your name as a silent thank you to whatever forces brought you back to his doorstep.

In the half-shadows, you looked haunted, and he immediately stepped to the side to make room for you to step back into his world. He had been waiting for you. Hoping, somehow, that you would come to him, that you still needed him the way he needed you. 

You slipped inside quietly, and Paul closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you away from everything – his mother, the expectations, the fear that had been building between you for weeks. His chest tightened as he watched you, taking in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes flicked to his like you weren’t sure if you should be here.

Paul had never been more certain of anything. He needed you here. 

As if your muscle memory controlled your actions, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed hot on your heels, not willing to let you get too far away from him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. You both knew what this was. 

As he watched you climb into his bed, Paul felt something settle in his chest, something that had been fraying ever since the distance had started growing between you. He slid in beside you, immediately wrapping his arm as tightly around your waist as viable and pulling you close.

The quiet of his room that had just felt so suffocating now felt like a refuge. You were his anchor, his constant. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside didn’t feel so heavy. 

He heard your breathing slow as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. Without any real thought behind the action, he buried his nose in your hair and breathed you in, feeling every part of his body that was touching yours. He could feel the tremors in your body start to fade, and with them, the knot of worry that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside him began to loosen.

“Are you okay?” Paul whispered, his voice soft, almost afraid of shattering the moment.

You nodded against him, but Paul could feel the weakness in the movement, could feel the words you did not say. In response he held you tighter, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach his own ears. He had not realized how much he needed to say it until the words were out. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, guilt wracking his mind while trying to somehow silence yours. His hand began to trace up and down your bare arm, needing to feel the warmth of your skin to remind himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I wanted to come sooner.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but his heart ached at the truth in your words. You had wanted to come sooner, but something had kept you back. The same thing that had kept him pacing his room, wondering if he should break the unspoken rules and go to you. Although he had always known, being told that the distance was killing you too felt oddly good.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you now felt different, like the quiet after a storm, when the air is charged but peaceful. Paul’s hand drifted up to gently stroke your hair, the motion instinctual, as his other hand held your waist. It was one of the most intimate embraces you had had, and it felt so right, to the point where he did not even question it. He wanted to offer you more than comfort, more than just a place to escape your nightmares. He wanted to give you the world, guaranteed safety. Not just a reprieve or a shelter, but a true home, a good life. But the words weren’t there yet. He didn’t know how to say the way he cared for you, that it was more than just… caring. That you were the only person who had ever made him feel like everything might be okay.

Instead, he whispered, “I’ll always be here. I swear it.” It was close enough for now.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim candlelight, burning low. For a moment, Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He saw everything in that look – your fear, your doubt, your hope. Your care. He craved to kiss you, to close the distance that still felt like it hung between you. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head, a tender, quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. You simply held each other, the world outside disappearing as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep. Paul finally felt safe.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Always Us

(Always having to use a Takeshi gif cause they're ain't enough Rick ones)

Rick Flag X Reader

You and Rick have been best friends through so much but will an undercover mission change everything?

Warnings: normal suicide squad level of violence, cursing, NSFW happenings

It was a rare occasion that the suicide squad was called in to answer to anyone other than Waller on a mission. She was a greedy bitch and hated sharing her toys and loved everyone knowing that the squad was her attack dogs and hers only. The only exception was when she wanted to look good, make bigger connections so here you and Rick stood in a room filled with FBI agents, DEA agents and numerous other agencies from other countries and every single one of them had their eyes on the two of you.

There was a big time smuggler by the name of Ezekiel Morrison. Drugs, people...didn't matter. He was in the business for them. No one had managed to get close enough so far. Everyone who'd gotten close had ended up dead. That was where the idea to use the squad had come into the play, have a task that seems like a suicide mission? Who better to use? Besides the moment they mentioned that the last "shipment" of his that had been intercepted had been teenaged girls you and Rick hadn't hesitated to say you were in.

You listened as the agent in charge went over the floor plan for Morrison's club where the meet would go down. The working plan was Rick would go in as a buyer and Floyd as his business partner, you and Harley unfortunately had to play arm candy. All you had to really do was get close enough to the asshole long enough that the handy little device laying in the center of the table could clone his phone.

That would give you access to every account, password, location of his warehouses and holding units. "Lucky for us, he has a type" Waller spoke from her spot to your right and you raised an eyebrow "Underaged girls?" she shook her head "He sells them but doesn't touch that product. No he has a particular taste" the way her eyes were trailing over you made a pit form in the base of your stomach. She'd looked at Rick and June the same way when she'd figured out that the two of them had developed feelings for each other. You'd wanted to kill her for the pain that had caused Rick when he and June split even if that was years ago now.

"Let me guess..my hair color, body type and build?" she smiled brightly which was beyond creepy considering "and smart to boot, look at that" She opened a folder and laid out a stack of photos on the table. Every woman could've been your sister or at the very least a cousin given the similarities in looks. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you realized there were three photos of each woman. One was a driver's license or I.D. of some sort, one was a photo of them with Morrison and the last was a crime scene photo of their deaths.

"Rick is the lead agent on this but you're running point on getting his phone cloned. The device will be planted on you. It's up to you to get it done" you could feel so many eyes in the room on you and became acutely aware of how few women were in the room. You couldn't back down for a magnitude of reasons. One set of eyes in particular drew your gaze to them, the hazel hue of your best friend from where he stood with his arms crossed, listening to Waller and from the way the crease between his eyebrows was deepening, not liking a single word she was saying.

He started to open his mouth, no doubt to protest but you gave a subtle shake of your head. If he said something..Waller wouldn't let it go unpunished, not to mention there was no other agent here that matched the description of his type and you hated the idea of some rookie getting plucked to get sent into the lion's den and this benefited Floyd, Harley and the usual suspects of the squad along with you and Rick if it went well not to mention the potential victims you were saving.

You knew with Rick, Harley and Floyd at your back you'd be safe enough. "Then let's get on with it ma'am" You spoke, meeting her eyes with a smile that was nowhere near friendly. She nodded then turned to face the room "Colonel Flag and his second in command will get this done. They're the best there is" you cut your eyes at Rick and knew he was thinking the same thing you were just from the look you shared. Normally she talked about the two of you like you were well trained junkyard dogs at best. He tilted his head with the barest hint of a smile before turning his attention back to the room.

The plan would be set for when and where along with personas for everyone being laid in place then all that would be left would be to play the part and rip the asshole to shreds. You knew Harley would enjoy the undercover part, Floyd was a smooth talker and Rick was trained for this shit. You could handle your part. The facts at hand left you no choice but to handle it.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Rick asked as he sat down next to you where you were currently curled up on his couch going over the files on Morrison again. The two of you along with Harley and Floyd would be flying out bright and early to meet up with the other agents working this joint op. That meant you'd spent the better part of the day with Harley and Floyd going over their personas. You cut your eyes up at him and you knew from the way his smile dropped you'd unintentionally glared at him "I'm not doubting your abilities sweetheart. I know you can handle this but Waller is waving you around like bait on a fucking hook. I goddamn hate it, I hated this guy before seeing those photos. After that? It's gonna take a lot for me to be civil"

You grabbed over your heart playfully "Oh Rick I didn't know you cared!" and fell over against his shoulder with a laugh. He shook his head and wrapped an arm around your shoulders "Bullshit on you not knowing I cared. You're my best friend, have been since before any of this shit ever fell into our laps" you laughed again "But damn isn't life so much more interesting than when you were just a grunt and me training to be a medic?"

He shook his head and reached for the file still in your hand before tossing it onto his coffee table "Enough of this asshole. Let's finish this movie we've been watching for the last two weeks so we can get some sleep" You had a habit of staying at each other's place the night before missions, especially ones like this. That was why Rick had picked out your couch and you his. Had to make sure your beds were comfortable.You turned to lean into the pile of pillows you had on the arm rest of the couch and Rick watched you with a raised eyebrow "What are you doing you fuckin gremlin?"

You shrugged "Getting comfortable. I always fall asleep before you and end up getting tossed around like a sack of potatoes so you can go to bed but.." you put your feet in his lap and tossed a blanket over your legs and his lap before continuing "this way maybe I don't end up feeling like a ragdoll when you want to go to bed you fuckin giant" he shrugged "Ain't my fault you're short. You never let that stop you on a mission. Hell you and Harley get twice the kill count of most of the guys" you winked at him "Never underestimate feminine rage"

This was the definition of your relationship with Rick. The two of you had met way back when and had hit it off, he needed chaos and you needed grounding and that's what you bought to each other. You met in the middle most days and when you did argue it normally never lasted long because you needed each other too much to stay mad. He was the one person you always counted on to be in your corner. You trusted him with your life and he trusted you with his.

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

When you'd started seeing GQ it had been a little bit of a blow up. Something along the lines of "You can't seriously date one of my men!" but when Waller had launched the idea of the squad and drew your card for their combat medic he couldn't say too much considering you were both then "his men" he'd just given his blessing when he met June. The speed at which he'd fallen for her had made your head spin but if that was what made him happy you'd been happy for him but Midway city had blown a hole in your life in more than one way.

After losing GQ and the squad becoming a concrete thing you threw yourself into work while Rick threw himself into the relationship with June. There was one thing while you were with GQ you'd never done and that was ignore Rick. Hell you'd had more than one relationship implode due to the six foot two man sitting next to you, because you refused to lose him. He'd been there for you during some of the worst years of your life. Unfortunately it had seemed he hadn't felt the same.

For weeks the only time you'd seen or spoke to Rick was over briefings. You hadn't pushed. He'd said he loved June. You'd seen it in how hard he fought for her so you concentrated on training the squad, on training yourself more,traveled with Katana a while, even going back and forth between D.C. and Louisiana on errands for Waller. Anything to not sit still.

The startling realization that your feelings had somehow sank so much deeper than you'd ever intended snuck up on you. You'd been in D.C. when he texted you asking where you were. A part of you wanted to ignore it but it was Rick. Your heart could only take so much distance from him. Waller was making you want to smash your head against a wall, Katana was depressing at best most times and the squad...well Croc was the best behaved currently. When you'd told him you were in D.C. He'd asked when you'd be back in Louisiana so you'd told him and he asked if the two of you could have a movie night "like old times"

You hadn't meant to be snarky but before you thought about it you'd typed out "Are you sure June would be cool with you coming to my place?" "No but we're not together anymore" your heart broke for him in that moment. No matter how you'd felt about June or the entire situation you hated knowing Rick was hurting. You texted back to tell him you'd see him when you got home.

That night when he'd come over it was like any other night in a lot of ways but he'd been quiet until you pushed. "Rick, not that I'm not happy to see you outside of Belle Reeve or D.C. but you haven't said anything outside of hey and asking how I've been. Are you ok?" you'd turned on your couch to face him, drawing a leg up underneath you. He stared down at his hands as he spoke "I've been a really shitty best friend to you. I don't think you loved G not yet anyways but I know you cared about him and goddamn deadshot comforted you more than I did. Midway City was hard as hell and I left you high and fuckin dry after it. You've been running errands for Waller, been traveling with Katana and training the squad" "So just a recap of the last few months?" you teased before he raised his eyes and you saw the actual pain there "Oh Rick, I'm kidding"

You moved to pull him into a hug and he wrapped his larger frame around you, burying his face in your shoulder. "I know June isn't used to any of the crazy shit we are. She was possessed by an ancient meta.Thats huge and hard as hell! I was just trying to help so you had more time to help her adjust" "I fuckin left you" it was muffled but you caught his words. You had to put most of your strength into it to push him back to look him in the face as you said "I'm a big girl Rick. I can handle a few weeks. You don't have to put your life on hold to still be my best friend"

You couldn't stand seeing him in any pain, especially mental. You couldn't even attempt to fix that. He raised a hand and brushed your hair back "It's always been us" you felt your heart flip at his words but knew he meant it platonically which was fine, you loved Rick in every way there was to love a man. The recent distance from him had forced you to realize that. You covered his hand with yours "Nothing will change that Rick. You loved June. It's normal to bury yourself in a new relationship, especially when your girl has trauma like she did. Now what happened"

He ducked his eyes before laughing lightly "She wanted me to quit the army, get a job in North Carolina where she's from" your heart crumbled at the idea of losing him but if that's what made him happy "Do you love the army or her more?" he shrugged "Doesn't matter because she also told me I had to cut ties with you. That was the deal breaker. You're my best friend. I'm not losing you"

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

You were drawn back to the present by Rick's hand squeezing your ankle lightly. When you flicked your eyes to him he smirked "Dozing off on me already?" you grinned "Maybe? Tomorrow is a whole new type of fucked up, even for us" he nodded then lifted your legs long enough to stand up before gently placing them back on the couch "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when my alarm goes off then we'll head to meet transport"

You watched him walk across the floor to his bedroom, he was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else but you couldn't exactly say anything considering you were wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of his boxers because you'd forgotten to pack something to sleep in from your apartment. The ink on his biceps drew your eyes when he turned to look back at you and grinned when he saw you were already looking at him "We'll get it done like we always do. Those photos just threw me off a little" you laughed lightly "They didn't look like you" he nodded "True. Goodnight Y/N" "Night Rick"

The bedroom door closed so you rolled over to face the back of the couch and hoped sleep would come soon.

You were glad you never got roped into undercover work,wrangling a team of maniacs from Belle Reeve was easy compared to this. Wardrobe had been insane to say the least. The guys had the easy part, nice tailored suits and a shave for Floyd and they were good to go. You and Harley on the other hand, the two of you had to go through literal hair and makeup. After that you'd tried on several different outfits, damn near growling at a few of the choices because the vest you normally wore on missions would've covered more. You'd even been forced to wear a different style of bra and panties than you'd packed.

Eventually the choice was made with Harley deciding on a spaghetti strap dress that was gold with a plunging neckline and heels that hurt your feet just from looking at them. Your dress for the evening was black with sleeves that skimmed your arms, hiding the scar on your shoulder from a bullet a few years back. Where the sleeves should've cut down on the sexy factor the neckline made up for it considering it dipped down to mid sternum and hugged your body in all the right places. Harley, bless her for feeding into your comfort zone as much as possible, found a pair of knee high, heeled boots that went along with the dress beautifully.

You did a little spin for her and the two agents that had been helping the two of you get prepared. "Ya look delicious babe. No way is he not taking the bait" Agent O'Rourke who was probably a year or two older than you gave you a smile before leaning down to your left boot. You were about to question what she was doing until you felt a sheath slip into your boot and hook into the side of it. When she straightened up she winked at you before saying "It's a ceramic blade, even if they wand you it won't go off" An understanding look passed between the two of you before you nodded slowly "Thank you"

She tapped the com in her ear, listening to one of the other agents before looking back to you and Harley "Let's get you two mic'd up then we'll go meet the men of your team. A driver will take you to Morrison's club for the meet"

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

You followed Harley and Agent O'Rourke out into the hall. Rick and Floyd were just waiting for the two of you. Your nerves were through the roof but that was normal for a mission, right? Besides, you'd feel better once Rick was at your side. You always did.

You were trying to not pick at your outfit, you stopped short when you heard the unmistakable sound of Floyd whistle. You cut your eyes up to see him and Rick standing with a few agents. He gave you and Harley both an appreciative once over before raising an eyebrow "You two out here looking like full course meals and I don't get a single damn taste...really gonna do me like that?"

You laughed, feeling the nerves fade a bit. Leave it up to your squad to cut jokes before undertaking something like this. "Easy deadshot, Harley is your girl for the night" Rick warned and for just a second you could've sworn he sounded jealous but he was probably just feeding into the personas set out. You turned your eyes towards him, trying and failing to not let your eyes linger on just how perfectly that suit hugged his shoulders. You felt a blush warm your face when he gave you a once over, his eyes following the neckline of your dress before he swallowed thickly and muttered "I fuckin hate Waller" you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you.

He held a hand out so you took it and he pulled you into his side "Ready to do this Allison?" That was the name of your persona, the long term girlfriend to Rick's persona Jonathan Kenzie. When Waller had told you that you wouldn't just be playing arm candy but someone Rick's persona was actually supposed to be committed to you'd nearly flipped the damn table on her but it was too late to back out. "Ready as ever Jon" You replied, brushing a stray piece of hair back from his forehead.

Floyd's persona was Anthony Colton, Jon's business partner. Harley was Alexia Long, Anthony's most recent fling. You turned your attention from Rick to Harley and held your hand out "C'mon Alexia" She smiled and grabbed your hand. Rick held your gaze as he addressed the room "We get in, we get what we need then we get the hell out. Everyone goes home in one piece after we tear this mother fucker's entire enterprise down around him" Floyd slapped Rick on the shoulder and laughed "I'll be damned! You finally learned how to give a fuckin pep talk"

The heat from the club hit you the moment you stepped inside, whether it was from the heat of the lights or the amount of bodies shoved into the small space you weren't sure. You swallowed hard, without thinking your hand shot out for Rick's. He laced his fingers into yours and gently rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. You felt the tension in your shoulders loosen at the touch. You could handle this. You'd handled a lot worse than one psycho.

Rick led your small group through the club, avoiding the overcrowded dance floor and heading for the V.I.P. section where a booth was reserved. Morrison had told "Jon" he wanted to meet in public to get a feel for each other before moving the meeting to his office. You knew the play was probably to get surveillance photos of all of you and run them to ensure you were who you said you were but considering the agencies behind you on this you were confident on that end.

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

Rick's hand never left yours, even as he took a seat at the booth before pulling you down into his lap. Floyd sat across from Rick, pulling Harley down into his lap as well. The four of you were supposed to look like couples so you had to play the part because you knew from the moment you stepped into the club Morrison already had eyes on you. Harley and Floyd had no issue with falling right into flirting and even suggestively touching each other. To anyone else it looked like they were completely oblivious but you knew if you asked, Floyd could tell you what color the third person to the right of the Dj booth's shirt was and Harley could probably psychoanalyze someone from their body language where she sat with her face in the bend of Floyd's neck whispering something to him.

Rick's hand slid up into the hair at the base of your neck,nails lightly scraping your scalp and it took every ounce of self control you had to not let a soft moan escape you at the feelings that small touch evoked.He pulled you back against his chest, careful of how short your dress was before pressing his mouth to the shell of your ear and speaking barely above a whisper so the coms wouldn't pick it up "Sweetheart you've got to loosen up and act like you want me. We're supposed to have been together for eight years" You couldn't even attempt to hide the shiver that ran down your spine and he chuckled lightly. Nothing on earth would have prepared you though for Rick to gently graze his teeth across your neck right over the pulse point. "Oh fuck" you gasped, feeling heat roll through you as he shifted under you "Atta girl"

What the fuck was he doing? More importantly how the fuck was he making you fall apart with so little actions? Damn you were in the middle of a mission and those nerves you were feeling just moments before were long forgotten, replaced by the feeling of Rick's lips on your skin as he kissed the spot right behind your ear that made your legs tremble. You felt your body react to his touch even more and had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from leaning into him even further.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him and he gave you the slightest of smiles before mouthing the word "Relax" about the time the feeling of eyes on you grew stronger and you had to fight the urge to not clock the bodyguard standing about four feet from where all of you sat. There were a few more posted around the club and if you were right from their formation it meant Morrison's office was behind the stage, near the very back of the building but at least it was on the base floor. You didn't feel like going out of a window wearing those boots.

You sucked in a breath of air, smoke and an abundance of different colognes and perfumes assaulted your senses but it still managed to ground you. Rick was playing a part. He was a trained soldier. This was nothing more than another mission, a different type of firefight.

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

You cut your eyes over at Harley and Floyd as Floyd struck up a conversation with Rick about their "Most recent trades" Harley was comfortably wrapped around Floyd, her eyes lazily flickering around the club. When her gaze met yours they shifted to Rick then back to you before she raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"How long is the damn background on us gonna take?" You spoke low enough only they could hear you and O'Rourke's voice in your ear nearly made you jump off Rick's lap when she responded "Few more minutes. He's gone through Floyd and Harley. He's currently working on you and Rick"

A bodyguard near the stage looked toward your group so Rick slipped an arm around your waist, effectively locking you in place against him as his fingers trailed down your side "Always so damn impatient Allie. Enjoy a night out" Floyd waved a waitress down and ordered drinks when Rick gave him a nod.

"That one has always been a live wire Jon" Floyd spoke with a look towards Rick that felt a lot more loaded than it should've been. You shook your head and let a laugh fall from your lips "Easy Anthony. I've known you for how long now? I could tell Alexia some stories"

Harley perked up at the chance to play her part and honest to God giggled "Oh please do!" She looked past you to Rick "If I can manage to get you out of Jon's grasp I may have to drag you onto the dance floor with me so we get a little one on one time"

Rick looked up at you from where he was propped back against the seat with an arm up like he owned the entire place "Allie, you wanna go dance baby?" You looked towards Harley then pulled your bottom lip between your teeth for a second before nodding "Yeah" he smiled and leaned up to place a kiss on your neck, right along your jawline before saying "Go have fun baby. Just stay where I can see if any asshole tries to put his hands on you is all I ask"

That was Rick reminding you and Harley to stay where him and Floyd could back you up if need be. You nodded and placed a kiss on his neck, feeling his pulse under your lips and felt a little thrill at how much faster it was than normal "I promise love"

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

Rick and Floyd watched you and Harley head to the dance floor. Rick's eyes never leave you even as the music started and Harley eased you into dancing, a broad grin on her face.

"She has you wrapped around her little finger doesn't she?" Floyd asked him and Rick was thrown off for a second because he wasn't sure if it was Floyd asking him or Anthony asking Jon or Floyd using the excuse of Anthony to be nosy and not get his head knocked off.

Rick turned his eyes back to you and couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face when you winked at him. That reaction was all Rick, no Jon required. "More than she knows" he answered without thinking and Floyd chuckled lightly.

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

You were enjoying yourself actually. Harley was her usual wildness but you were used to it and her mood helped yours. The two of you had probably danced for two songs when you felt someone touch your back.

You knew Rick's touch well enough to know it wasn't him. You turned around to be face to face with Ezekiel Morrison. "Showtime" O'Rourke spoke over the coms and you could feel Rick's gaze even before you cut your eyes over at him and Floyd.

You'd seen Rick ecstatic, horrified, downright depressed and if someone had asked you before that moment you would've said you'd seen him angry but the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your spine of an entirely different kind and you knew for a fact he'd never hurt you. He looked enraged at the fact that Morrison had touched you even if that was the plan. You gave him a small smile, hoping that would calm him before turning your attention to the man in front of you.

"Excuse me?" You asked, making your voice sound as innocent as possible. Ezekiel would've been a decent looking man had you not known what he'd done. He was about an inch or two shorter than Rick, nice build and light brown hair with straight, extremely white teeth. "I'm sorry to interrupt you and your friend but I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't ask for a dance"

You forced a bashful laugh "Oh my. Well um I'm here with my boyfriend" you pointed towards Rick who had to school his features when Morrison smiled even broader "You're Mr Kenzie's significant other? My my he does have fine taste indeed. I'm sure he wouldn't mind one dance"

Yeah, you'd need four showers after this. You looked from him over to Rick, making sure to pull the whole doe eye act before nodding "You're right. One dance won't hurt"

Harley smiled "I'm gonna head over to Anthony" Morrison didn't take his eyes off you to acknowledge her. Yeah he was basically a serial killer on top of everything else and Waller had laid you on a silver platter.

You took Morrison's hand and allowed him to pull you back out onto the dance floor, focusing your mind on how Rick's touch had felt, on the teenaged girls this mother fucker trafficked, on anything but how oily his hand felt and how his eyes were glued to the flesh your dress showed "So miss..." "Allison..Allison Gore" he nodded "Allison. How did you meet Jon?"

You fed him the backstory that had been laid into place, all the while listening to O'Rourke's voice encouraging you to keep him talking. He nodded as if he was enthralled but you knew he hadn't heard a single word you said.

You felt his hand that had been on your lower back begin to slip lower as the two of you danced. You knew this was a possibility and could handle it gracefully or would've had you not heard "Goddammit Flag" over the coms right before you felt that familiar touch pulling you back against that toned chest you'd know anywhere "Mr Morrison! I see you've met my Allie"

Ezekiel winked at you "I did indeed. She's extraordinary" "stay within two feet of him Y/N. We just need three more minutes" you leaned up from Rick's embrace to lay a hand on Morrison's arm "This club is wonderful but I understand Jon and Anthony as here on business. Let's move this somewhere more private"

Morrison nodded "Mr Kenzie do you want to grab your partner and his girl. I'll gladly escort Ms Gore" you looked up into Rick's eyes and the look made your heart flip. "Jon, go get Tony and Alexia" he nodded stiffly then leaned down close to you. To anyone else, including Morrison it would look like he was kissing your neck but he whispered into your ear "If you say stop. This shit stops. Nothing matters more than you"

When he pulled back you knew your eyes were wide but you recovered fast enough "Love you too babe" then turned to Morrison and took his offered arm "Lead the way"

You swallowed hard and heard O'Rourke's voice "Two more minutes" as Morrion led you towards a darkened hallway at the far back of the club. You shifted your foot to feel the sheath in it as a comfort as you heard Rick growl across the com "Hurry the fuck up"

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

Ezekiel was purposely invading your space, leaning in too close. You could smell his God awful cologne and the cigars he smoked. Rick, Floyd and Harley had yet to make it to the office but you imagined that was on purpose.

"Tell me miss Gore, are you happy with Mr Kenzie?" You nodded "Very. Jon's a good man to me" the bastard shrugged "Does he treat you like a queen? Because I could give you an empire" he put one hand on your hip and was leaning closer when you finally heard O'Rourke say "It's cloned. Teams are moving into position. When they hit the warehouses and holding units we have the all clear to take down Morrison and any guards. Hold positions. Ten minutes tops"

Where was Rick? You stepped back from Morrison "Where is Jon and Anthony?" You asked and he smirked "I wanted some alone time, ya know. Get to know each other better. They'll be here soon" "Find her now or I'll blow this whole damn op sideways" Rick's voice across the coms hit you square in the chest. He was pissed, worry evident in his tone laced with an underlying fear you'd seen in his eyes when he'd looked too close at those photos. You just hoped O'Rourke knew he meant every damn word.

"Where are they?" You asked and he smiled "Don't worry. I want their business. I'll be gentle" he brushed your hair back and spoke close enough to your neck you could feel his breath "Unless you want me to be rough"

O'Rourke and Rick's voices both drifted into your ear "Nine" "WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?"

Adrenaline flooded your system mixed with a little bit of relief. He hadn't figured out they were undercover, he still thought this was just a buyer who happened to have a girl who matched his fetish. That, you could handle"Yeah, No"

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

You made a move to go around him and he tried to grab for you so you side stepped and slammed your knee into his crotch "No means no" "Fuckin bitch" he growled, hitting the floor. You stood over him and repeated yourself "Now do you want to act like a gentleman or continue to act like a neanderthal?"

He cupped his balls as he glared at you "I'll fucking kill you" "Wrong answer" you smiled, drawing back your foot and kicking him where you'd previously caught him with your knee. Harley's voice finally graced your ear "North end of the club Flag. I'll get the guards' attention. You go get our girl"

O'Rourke's voice followed "Colonel Flag, Harley we just need five minutes" "Better be a fast five minutes" Floyd's voice was clipped, he was pissed.

Morrison was beginning to recover so you backed up, crouching to slip the knife out of your boot because you had no idea what he was doing "You either give me what I want or I'll kill your man, his friend and your little whore friend while you watch"

"Those three can handle themselves," you replied with a shrug. "Three" O'Rourke's voice rang through your ears as Morrion moved to grab you again. You flipped the knife up and drove it into his left arm. You weren't trying to kill him. Not yet anyways.

He roared in pain and called you a few choice words before the door slammed open, barely hanging onto the hinges from the force and there stood Rick, anger rolling off him in waves. Morrison fell back from you "Your whore attacked me Kenzie"

Rick strode into the office and didn't say a word as he closed the space between himself and Morrison with few steps. He wrapped a hand around the other man's throat before looking over at you. You saw a few marks gracing his face that was evidence of a fight of some sort but he didn't look too injured.

Rick looked back at Morrison before snatching your blade free of his arm and putting it at his throat, the tip of the blade digging in enough you saw blood begin to trickle down Morrison's neck. "No, you're just a sorry excuse for a man that likes to put his hands places they don't belong"

The blade drove in further and you heard O'Rourke's voice "We're coming in. I repeat we're coming in. Start taking down who you can" "Rick!" You grabbed his arm and when he looked down at you his eyes trailed over your face "Did he touch you?" You shook your head "No. He tried but no"

He nodded slowly before smashing Morrison's head roughly into the wall. You watched the slimy mother fucker crumple before you heard gunfire break out and you both looked at each other "Got me a gun?" you asked with a hopeful grin.

He lifted the back of his jacket and you smiled when you realized he'd placed one where he'd have no chance of drawing it but it was the perfect position for you. "I knew you loved me" "More than you know" he muttered so low you barely heard him before pulling his own gun. You didn't have time to ask what he meant, the two of you taking one final look at each other before joining the mayhem in the remainder of the club.

Both yours and Harley's dresses had somehow gotten ripped in the fighting. The material wasn't exactly made to hold up to the two of you so the plane ride home consisted of the two of you wearing FBI sweatpants and the guys' suit jackets. You laughed from where you sat across from Floyd and he raised an eyebrow at you "Y/N? You finally flip your shit? I knew hanging out with Flag was gonna get to you"

You looked towards the front of the plane where Rick had been on the line with Waller since all of you had stepped on board "Naw, he's not that bad once you get past that wall he puts up" Floyd shook his head "You two and your puppy eyes are kinda sickening" Harley slapped his shoulder "Shut up! I think it's cute"

You looked from one to the other "What?" They exchanged a glance before Floyd said "Dollface, you nearly melted into a puddle in that man's lap from him doing very little" "Plus he looks at you like you hung the fuckin moon" Harley added. Floyd nodded then shrugged "Not to mention the entire reason they sent everyone in early is because he told em that was their only option if they wanted Morrison alive"

You looked back towards Rick, he had his back turned to you. You could tell from the set of his shoulders he was arguing with Waller. He glanced over his shoulder after a second as if he could feel your gaze and when he did his entire body seemed to relax when he looked at you. You smiled at him and he smiled in return before turning back to whatever Waller was saying "See?" Harley and Floyd spoke in unison.

You shook your head "Get some sleep. You two earned your walking papers with this one, I hope this is the last mission I work with either of you" they both grinned at you "You'll miss us" Floyd teased so you nodded "Yeah but I'll be glad to see you go home to your little girl" then looked at Harley "and you better stay out of trouble" She winked at you "I'll try"

You followed Rick out of Belle Reeve into the parking lot where both your car and his pickup were parked. He'd been silent the ride back and during the group debrief besides when asked a direct question but then Waller had asked to speak to him alone. You'd gone to the warden's office to finish up Harley and Floyd's paperwork while you waited on him. You'd changed into one of his extra shirts he kept in his office so it was a bit more comfortable than the suit jacket considering you were still wearing the boots. Hell you were considering seeing if Rick had any extra shoes stored anywhere even if they'd be too big.

He stopped when you got to your car and dug his truck keys out of his pocket before looking at you "Um..can I come over?" "Movie night?" you asked and he started to nod then stopped "No, not movie night. I want to talk to you but not here when I know every damn thing is gonna run back to that bitch" your eyes widened at his words but you nodded nonetheless "Ok"

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

You stepped out of the shower and heard your front door open. It had to be Rick because outside of him only your brother had a key and he was currently states away. You'd ended up pulling one of his old shirts he'd left at your place out to sleep in and considering how long it was on you, nothing else but panties. He'd seen you in less when you'd been hurt.

You walked out of your bedroom into the living room and he was sitting on the couch with his head back and looked half asleep, from the looks of it he'd showered at his place when he'd grabbed his forgotten overnight bag. He was now wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his shoes were by the front door where he'd kicked them off time he walked in. You smiled when you realized he had locked all three locks behind himself. "Well that was insane" you spoke and his head shot up at your voice, a lazy smile slipping onto his face "Yeah, thats a word for it"

He patted the cushion next to him "C'mere" any time he was tired his accent slipped out so much thicker. You loved it. You walked over and sat down next to him, curling your feet underneath you so you could lean your head over on his shoulder "How pissed was Waller?" he shrugged "You and the team are in the clear. I think a part of her enjoys being right about having something to hold over my head" He slipped his arm around your shoulders as he spoke, head dipping down so he could place a kiss on top of your head "What does she have?" you asked, praying you were right but refusing to say it outloud.

He laughed lightly "You're gonna make me throw every damn card I got on the table, ain't ya?" You leaned up off his shoulder so you could look into his eyes "Yeah. I want to know what's going on in that head of yours. You know it's always been us and always will be but I need to know just what you mean" he leaned forward until his forehead was touching yours and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before saying "She knows I'm in love with my best friend and that I have been for a very long time" you gently cupped his jaw and waited until he slowly opened his eyes. He looked so damn uncertain. Where was that man that had you falling apart in Morrison's club just hours before? Was it that much easier when it was under the facade of a mission?

"Please say something," he nearly begged. you let your hand caress down his jaw, trying to collect your nerve before finally leaning in to let your lips connect to his. The kiss was gentle, hell chaste even but it lit a fire in you as you pulled back to look at him. a smile slipped onto his face "Please do that again" a laugh fell from you "Rick Flag, you had me squirming in the middle of a club! I think you're more than capable of taking control of a situation" "Do you want this? Want me?" he asked, reaching for your hand and placing it over his heart where you could feel it thundering even through his shirt. You rolled the soft material through your fingertips before nodding "For a very long time"

"C'mere" he repeated, pulling you across the couch. You gladly let him pick you up and put you in his lap, slipping your legs down on either side of his hips to be effectively straddling him "First time you've not complained about me picking you up" You shrugged "I like how big you are when I'm the one getting to take advantage of it" he smirked at your words "Darlin, I just ask two things of you" he dipped his head down to let his teeth tease across your pulse like he'd done earlier and you tried to muffle the moan that it caused by biting your lip but he moved one hand up, cupping the side of your head and using his thumb to gently coax your lip out from between your teeth "Tell me if you don't like something and don't try to be quiet baby. Please let me have every little sound I can pull from you because I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure you forget any man that was in your bed before me"

You nodded, unable to form words at the moment but he shook his head "Use your words sweetheart" "I will Rick, please just fuckin touch me" he raised an eyebrow and looked down to where his hands were touching your hips "I am touching you baby" "Rick!" you pratically whined and was rewarded with the rumble of his laughter when you tugged at his shirt. "Ok ok" he teased before pulling his shirt off and tossing it next to him on the couch "That what you wanted?" he asked and you answered him by letting your hands and lips trace the familiar scars that decorated his chest, the muscles shifting under your touch as little groans escaped him.

When your lips moved from his chest up to his neck his head fell back against the couch "Damn sweetheart that feels good" you moved across his neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin there. His hips jutted up against yours when you hit a certain spot and you gasped feeling how hard he was, fuck you'd always figured Rick was well endowed. Boxers and sweatpants didn't hide much but feeling it rubbing against your core with only thin layers of material separating it was an entirely different feeling.

Your lips found that spot again, rolling your hips against his as you sucked a dark mark over it. His grip on your hips tightened as he swore under his breath "That's it darlin. Mark me. Let everyone know I'm yours" you whimpered into his skin at his words. He slipped a hand between your body and you broke away from his skin to gasp when his fingers made the first swipe across your clothed center, the material not offering much of a barrier given that they were soaked.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet honey..that for me?" he teased, pushing your panties to the side and allowing one thick finger to tease past your folds before finally pushing it inside of you, grunting when he felt how your pussy squeezed just one of his fingers "Oh sweetheart" he curled his finger up, finding that spot inside of you that had you gripping his shoulders. "It's ok, I got ya" he kissed the side of your head as he added a second finger. "Fuck..Rick" he used his thumb to work your clit as his lips found your neck attacking the spots that had you shaking in his touch as he worked you towards an orgasm.

You felt that pressure building a half second before that wave crashed over you "Oh god" you moaned, burying your face in his neck as he used his fingers to work you through the orgasm. When your walls stopped tremoring around his fingers, he slowly pulled them out of you. When you lifted your head he winked at you before sucking his fingers into his mouth, humming in contentment at your taste "I need more than a tease of a taste" he spoke before moving you off his lap to lay you back across the couch.His hands went to the shirt you wore, eyes flickering to yours "Can I take this off?" you nodded then remembered he wanted more "Please"

He grinned, slipping the shirt off of you then tossed it "Fuck, look at you" he started at your panty line and left a trail of open mouthed kisses up your body until he got to your breasts. He rolled one nipple into his mouth and your back arched up when he let his teeth just barely graze the sensitive bud. "Fuck, just like that..feels so good" you praised and felt him grin against your flesh.

He moved to the other side giving it the same attention before moving up to catch your lips in a wet kiss that had you both gasping for air when you pulled away. "So damn gorgeous" he praised before moving back down your body leaving wet kisses everywhere he could reach. When he got to the top of your panties he looked up to meet your eyes, the request silent. "Please" you whispered and god the look he gave you in that moment damn near made you come undone "I fucking love you"

He slipped your panties down off your legs and tossed them before tapping your hips "Spread your legs for me beautiful. Let me love ya" you did as he asked and felt the first tentative flick of his tongue which had your eyes rolling back in your head. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair as he dove in like a starved man offered a four course meal. Your hips rocked against his face as he worked you closer and closer to that edge and when he slipped two fingers in to tease at that spot deep inside of you while barely letting his teeth graze against your clit your back arched off the couch and you came with a scream of his name on your lips.

Once you weakly pushed at his head from being oversensitive he started to kiss his way up your body, marking every inch of skin he could with his mouth along the way. When he got to your mouth he pulled you into a passionate kiss, rolling his tongue against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on him. Your hands were locked around his neck, holding him to you "Rick, I want to return the favor, I want to do so much but right now I need you inside me" you begged.

He kissed the tip of your nose before saying "It's ok baby" he leaned up far enough to slip his sweatpants off and kick them away. You felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance and you felt yourself clench even before he started slowly easing in. When a loud gasp ripped from you he froze "Did I hurt you?" you shook your head "You feel so fucking amazing Rick, never been filled up so much"

He leaned his head over against your chest, kissing the few scars you also had before sliding the rest of the way into you until his hips rested against yours "So fuckin warm and tight and fuckin perfect" he groaned as he gave a tentaive thrust and when you responded by hooking your legs around his waist he lifted his head up to look at you "You're gonna be the death of me..but what a way to go"

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

Your fingers dug into Rick's shoulders as his dug into your hips. Both of you desperate to pull each other closer as both of your highs drew near. He moved to kiss you but you could barely get your mouth to meet his from how fuckin amazing he had you feelin which resulted in you gasping into his mouth "So damn close Rick...fuck I love you" his hips faltered slightly at your words before regaining his pace, pushing you both towards as orgasm.

When he moved his fingers down to rub tight circles onto your clit your eyes tried to close but he spoke with his mouth right next to your ear "Open those eyes darlin. I wanna see you come apart" you opened your eyes and his hazel ones were inches from yours. You pulled him into a kiss just as your orgasm washed over you and when your walls clenched down hard around him it pulled him over the edge with you, he groaned loudly as you felt him coat your insides.

"Fuck that was amazing" you cursed and he looked down at you and smirked "Just what I was thinking" before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled out of you,a small gasp left you so he apologized before asking "Wanna get another shower?" you raised an eyebrow "You carryin me Flag? Cause my legs are kinda jello after that" he couldn't have looked more proud of himself if he tried in that moment.

You laid across Rick's chest, one leg throw over his waist as his fingers traced imaginary patterns on your bare thigh "Did you mean what you said or was it an in the moment thing?" he asked and you were confused for a second then realized what he meant and shook your head "Rick, I've been in love with you for longer than I care to admit but I wasn't losing my best friend because of it"

He nodded slowly before using his other hand to tilt your head up to him "You'd never lose me and now you damn sure won't" you felt a blush warm your face. "Rick Flag, I'm yours. You don't have to keep being such a sweet talker" he laughed before shaking his head "Damn right you're mine and I'm yours but I will sweet talk you until the day they put me in the ground darlin" you laughed lightly "Lets get some sleep" he somehow managed to pull you closer before saying "I think I like sleeping in your bed even better than the couch" you grinned up at him "Good, cause tomorrow night we need to break in your place" "Yes ma'am"

@spaghettificationandpretzels

[impala-dreamer]

A Simple Kinda Man

Dean’s a pretty simple man. He likes the things he likes and you can rarely get him to change his mind about it. 

He loves classic rock. Epic guitar solos that pour from the speakers and carry you away. Deep, pulsing, intricate bass lines that rock you to your core. Drums that block everything out. Lyrics that paint a picture so clear you can see it with your eyes closed. He rarely voluntarily listens to any music made after 1984, but will tolerate it if you’re driving - those are the rules, after all. And good luck getting him to admit he wiped away a tear listening to that Taylor Swift song you blasted from your room the other night. It won’t happen. Ever.

Dean loves a home-cooked meal, especially if it ends with pie. He doesn’t hate cake, but he finds the frosting too obtrusively sweet. He likes apple pie because it’s warm and tart with just a hint of sweetness hiding behind the biting cinnamon. He likes a rich, flakey crust that you can only get by using real, full-fat butter. Low-fat and calorie-free are not words he is familiar with and actively avoids when roaming the aisles at the grocery store. If he’s gonna eat, he’s gonna enjoy it, cholesterol be damned. He’d happily take a greasy double bacon cheeseburger over even the fanciest offering at a steakhouse and prefers his fries shoestring and deep-fried-orange, thank you very much. He picks his whiskey based on dollar amount not years aged. He’ll eat pizza cold and right off the floor if he has to. He’s not picky, but he likes what he likes. 

He pretends not to care about looks, but he’s been known to mess with his hair in the mirror for way longer than necessary, and he’s once or twice been caught with whitening strips clogging up his mouth. He prefers comfort over fashion but he damned sure knows how to find a tee that’s just a little too tight in all the right places, a pair of jeans that hugs his ass just so. He’s well aware how that deep burgundy flannel shirt brings out the freckles on his cheek and the green of his irises. He’s no fool. He knows he’s handsome; knows when he grins just so his dimples could ignite a fire in a thousand hearts. 

He loves kids but he tries not to think about it too much. Sure, whenever a stroller passes, he sneaks a peek at the tyke inside and wonders what it would be like if your DNA and his got squished into a little human, but he lets it go. As he tells himself: “Mars ain’t the kinda place to raise a kid”, and neither is the Bunker or the life he leads. 

He finds comfort in small touches- fingers grazing over the backs of knuckles, hugs lingering a moment too long. He falls asleep now to the sound of your breath, the slowing, gentle rise and fall as you run around in dreamland beside him. The warmth you emit under the blankets is enough to sustain him through tomorrow and the next day, and he wonders how he survived all those years sleeping alone. 

He’ll never tell you that, though. 

He loves you deeply but he’ll never say the words. 

He’ll prove it to you in a thousand different ways. In tender kisses and dreamy smiles. In whispered secrets and unwavering trust. He’ll protect you with his last breath. Give up his very soul to make you happy. But don’t ask him to admit it. Don’t force him to say the words out loud. It’s too much for him to handle. He’s battled monsters since he was a child, saved the world more times than he can remember, but the idea that you might not love him back, say the words in return… It’s too much, too terrifying a thought for him to risk. So he’ll tell you in the little ways. The simple ways.

He’s rough but sweet. His hands are big but warm and gentle. He’s a killer. He’s a genius. He’s stubborn. He’s ridiculous. He’s unfunny. He’s adorable. He’s beautiful. He’s kind. He’s miraculous. He’s inspiring. He is a holy unnatural, amazingly flawed, perfectly damaged, horribly broken man.

He’s Dean Winchester. 

And you wouldn’t want him any other way. 

For @deanwinchesterswitch and all the true Dean Girls out there.