#please just scroll past and ignore me

[eyeball-freak]

Here’s how I would write Jason Todd if I had my own continuity

-Make him and Dick closer in age (like a two year age difference, maybe Dick is 15 when he decides to lead his own team and Jason becomes the new Robin at 13)

-Give him most of the lore and backstory of TNBA’s Tim Drake (Who was really Jason Todd just with Tim’s name because Jason was unpopular at that time)-This includes the brainwashing and torture he went through to become joker jr

-After this traumatic experience he would willingly give up the mantle as Robin and lay low for a long time

-Time skip maybe about a year, something triggers him to put on the cape and mask again, but not the cape or mask of Robin. Perhaps all that culmination of trauma

-Have him officially become the Red X (no redhood in this continuity because I never liked that idea)-Give him a similar dynamic in teen titans in regards to his relationship with Dick, except he isn’t actively malicious, he’d be a neutral force and slowly shift into more anti hero status

-Have him ALMOST kill someone, I’m not sure if he’d kill Joker in this continuity for of his extreme trauma would make him repress his emotions like guilt and empathy to an extreme degree to the point that he doesn’t feel anything at the thought of killing someone, except perhaps a sense of justice. However, in someway he would be brought back to his senses and would be reminded that he doesn’t need to kill in order for there to be justice

-I want him to have actual closure with Batman, I hate how their relationship is in canon. They should disagree on a few things sure. But they should still care for each other at the end of the day.

-Overall have him be a generally morally good character but also have been be willing to do more morally dubious things (not killing as we’ve established). Have him have a rivalry with Dick but also have them be able to team up for the greater good and work together, they are brothers after all. I’d like to imagine in the future when he’s older he’d take a liking to Damien and eventually Terry McGinnius (yes I would incorporate Batman beyond into my continuity it’s my writing lol-)

[justsomecorvid]

I was out on a walk and I saw a bus and I kind of wondered if I should just step in front of it. Like obv I didn't but I wanted to because everything hurts right now and things are hard and I have another new cut now because it's a good distraction. Everthing I've known to be true kind of just fell apart not more than two weeks ago and maybe it's affecting me more than I want to admit because I can't just turn off my emotions right now. I lost a pair of glasses for a costume and proceeded to genuinely panic and go out to the woods (comfort place) and just. Cry for like an hour. I kind of wonder if I could just get a really sharp stick and put it somewhere vital. It would take people at least a few days to notice I wasnt there because who would care anyways? Well I mean my partner might care and maybe my parents but maybe they won't because I think (partner especially) should just find someone who isn't like me and isn't dealing with things so the new person could actually be stable enough to provide good support because like im not good at that and I can get kind of aggressive sometimes and I don't want them to worry about anything when they're already worrying about so much and should be worrying about themselves. Anyways yeah. Uh. I think I kind of want to sleep forever.

[lolottes-pad]

if i think hard enough then perhaps i can manifest my comfort character and get him to Kill my mother

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[transgenderprototype]

This site is all about mental health/illness positivity unless it's ocd.

[gloomyluvr]

NEEDY

in which rafe just wants to nap

fem!reader x rafe cameron

fluff

warnings!: bit of sarah shade. cameron siblings getting along (iktr 🙂‍↕️), reader is from the cut and kind of a pogue idk,

a/n: hiii ! first rafe fic ever and first fic since 2023 (oops...) to my spiderverse readers i will write when they give us content and when the fandom is alive. hope this fic is good and people like it. it's not the best but i'm working on other fics so give me a chance please 😣. this ones pretty short. pls let me know if you enjoyed this or if there are any spelling errors. requests are open !

masterlist

summer in the outer banks was nothing short of fun. spending most days at the beach taking in the warm sun, relaxing and cooling down in the cold water, all while hanging out with the people you love most. but fuck, did it get so hot sometimes. unbearably hot. it wasn’t enough to cool down in the water, the intense sun on skin overpowering the coolness of the ocean. it was worse at the chateau, or anywhere on the cut. only a lucky few could afford the luxury of air conditioning. fortunately, you had a super awesome hot rich boyfriend with a mansion with air conditioning that ran 24/7. 

you laid in bed with the youngest cameron sibling, helping her with online shopping for the upcoming school year. having been with rafe for just a couple months, you had become close with his sisters. you saw sarah at the chateau with john b more than you had ever really seen her at tannyhill. therefore, when you spent time at the mansion, you typically spent time with wheezie when you got bored with rafe. 

“wait, that one’s cute,” you pointed to a crop top on wheezie’s laptop which rested on her knees.

“i think i already have that one though.” she looked around her room to see if the top was among the clothes on the floor before giving up and continued scrolling through the catalogue, “i feel like these clothes are too revealing.”

“cmon wheeze! this is nothing, you just gotta get out of your shell. it’s just clothes, try something new and i don’t know, maybe you’ll like it.” you tried convincing the younger girl. over the past few months you had become like an older sister to her, as sarah spent more time with john b and the other pogues.

“my dad would never let me buy these,” she turned her head to look at you. 

“just put it on rafe’s card,” you whispered, “i won’t tell.” you stuck your pinky out and wheezie quickly wrapped her pinky around yours, giggling. 

as wheezie finalized her cart a familiar voice began to call out for you, “babeee! babeee where are you!”

wheezie rolled her eyes, “speak of the devil,” she muttered. 

“summon him and he shall come,” you smiled at her which she returned, “i’m in wheezie’s room!” you called back. on queue, you heard obnoxiously loud stomps coming up the stairs. “he is so dramatic and for what?”

rafe stood in the doorway looking at you and his younger sister, “why’d you steal my girlfriend, wheeze?” 

 it was your turn to roll your eyes, “she didn’t steal me, dipshit. you were too busy ignoring me for topper and kelce and your stupid game so i came up here where i am truly loved.” you sighed, wrapping yourself around wheezie who stuck her tongue out at her older brother. in return, rafe picked up one of the shirts laying on the floor and chucked it at wheezie. 

“douchebag!” she yelled.

“cmon y/n, i wanna go take a nap.” 

“but i’m so comfy here!” you whined cuddling wheezie tighter. 

rafe walked over to your side and quickly got on the bed, spooning you and throwing one of his long legs over your body, reaching wheezie. rafe wasn’t an affectionate brother by any means, but when he was with you he definitely softened up with everyone around you guys. 

wheezie kicked her brother’s calf, “ew get your nasty dogs away from me!” but rafe didn’t budge.

“what’re you guys doing?” he mumbled looking at the laptop screen. 

“y/n’s helping me shop for school.” 

“why? you have enough clothes. you don’t need none of those crop tops. no boyfriends till you’re 30.” rafe stated as he viewed the clothes on the screen.

you gently smacked the leg that was on top of your own, “don’t be rude! wheezie’s not little anymore.”

 “hm, whatever.” he grumbled, nuzzling his face against your neck, eyes shut as he fully enveloped you leaving no space between your bodies. his hands found yours, wasting no time to intertwine your fingers. 

“get off me, fatty!” you feigned disgust, as if you weren’t enjoying every second of rafe’s neediness to cuddle.

rafe grumbled, “only if you come take a nap with me in my room.” 

“fineeee, get up then,” you reached behind to gently smack his butt and he quickly got up, no effort to hide his big smile, “sorry wheeze, duty calls.” you sighed, getting up following rafe as he walked to wheezie’s door.

before walking out he turned back to wheezie and stuck his tongue out as she had done earlier. with no hesitation, wheezie returned the gesture as you smacked rafe’s head and shoved him out the door. 

[navybrat817]

Feeling in a mood today. Would you consider some angst with Bucky? You can ignore!

I feel like angst isn't my forte, nonnie, but I'll try?

Stood Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you out on a date and doesn't show.

Word Count: Almost 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, sadness, insecurities, embarrassment

A/N: This may get a Part 2. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You chose a simple black dress for your first date with Bucky. It wasn't too dressy or over the top, but still nice enough that you hoped it caught his attention. If the sight of you could put a soft smile on his face and warmth in his stunning blue eyes you'd consider it a win. Maybe he'd even tell you how beautiful you looked.

But your date was supposed to start almost an hour ago, and he still hadn't arrived.

You perked up when you looked toward the door, only to feel disappointed yet again when it wasn't Bucky who walked in. Checking your phone, you scrolled back through the messages. You had texted him earlier in the week to be on the safe side and he confirmed all of the needed date information; date, time, restaurant. You arrived at the right place at the right time on the right date. It was all you looked forward to this week.

You thought Bucky was looking forward to it as well since his last message was, “Can't wait to see you, doll.”

The sergeant looked almost nervous when he asked you to grab dinner with him. You were pretty sure he ran a hand through his hair three times before he got the question out. But the way his eyes lit up when you said yes, it was a look you’d never forget.

“It’s a date,” he had smiled, your heart fluttering. “Maybe we can go dancing after? Or we can dance in one of our apartments? Or we can play it by ear.”

“I’ll wear my best dancing shoes.”

You were trying to stay optimistic that he would show, but the knots in your stomach tightened when you realized he still hadn't replied to your follow up messages since you got to the restaurant. Did he have to take a last minute mission and couldn't let you know? Was he just running late? Or did he simply change his mind about the date?

“Where are you, Bucky?” you whispered, praying he wasn't hurt or worse.

The server cautiously approached your table once you set your phone down. “Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you forcefully smiled, gesturing to the untouched glass of wine in front of you. “I’m still… waiting,” you added, your voice cracking on the last word.

A look of pity crossed the server’s face. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt other eyes on you, too. You didn't want their sympathy or anything else for that matter. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

You managed a nod and nothing more, your eyes burning as you blankly stared at the menu. It didn't make sense. Bucky wasn't the kind of man to stand someone up. He wouldn't leave you in the middle of a restaurant by yourself without a good reason. Right?

Your hands shook when it went past the hour mark and you typed one more message to Bucky. “I’m still at the restaurant and worried since you aren't here. I hope you're okay.”

It took another fifteen minutes for it to finally sink in that Bucky wasn't coming. As much as you didn't want it to, it hurt. So much. Luck wasn't on your side when it came to relationships, but you thought this would be different because, well, Bucky was different. You should've known better though. You should've known him asking you on a date was too good to be true.

The server made eye contact with you across the room and quickly made her way over when you took out your wallet. “Oh, that glass is on the house. Unless there's anything else I can get for you?”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” The gesture brought tears to your eyes, and you wished you could bury yourself in the ground then and there. “I don't need anything else, but I still owe you a tip for taking up the table for over an hour,” you said, leaving some cash on the table and giving her one last smile as you stood up on shaky legs. “Have a good night.”

“Ouch. Stood up. Been there before.”

“Oh, shit. I think she’s crying.”

“Poor thing. She was sitting down before we got here.”

The whispers from the patrons were practically screams in your ears as you left, and you had to steady yourself once you got outside. The cool air did nothing to soothe you, and wiping your cheeks didn't stop the tears from falling. Humiliation aside, your heart ached. Putting yourself out there wasn't easy, but this sort of rejection hurt more than a firm “no”.

Worry seeped in because you didn't want to believe Bucky would do this on purpose. What went wrong? Why didn't he show up? There had to be a reasonable explanation.

You dialed his number, your heart stopping when his voicemail popped up after a few seconds. “Hey, this is Bucky. Leave me a message.”

You cleared your throat to speak. “Hey. It’s me. I waited for you… at the restaurant, but I guess… I guess you just couldn't make it, so I'm heading home.” You paused to sniffle and prayed he wouldn't catch it if he listened. “Can you just… let me know you're okay? Please, Bucky?” you asked, hanging up before you could say more.

The little optimism you had left faded completely when you checked your messages one last time. The messages had gone from delivered to read. He got them and didn't respond. Not one single word. He just… ignored you.

Maybe everything was fine with him after all and he realized you weren't good enough to go on a date with.

Choking on a small sob, you tucked your phone away. You didn't bother with a cab. The walk could help clear your head. You didn't care if the distance would ruin your shoes. It wasn't like you had anyone to dance with tonight or any other night.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered to yourself, curling in on yourself as you walked. It hurt, but you’d be fine. You'd suck it up, put a smile on your face, and convince everyone that all was well because that was the way it had to be.

But how would you face Bucky come Monday? You still cared about him, but how would you be able to look him in the eye and hide the hurt you felt from being left all alone in that restaurant? How would you move forward together if he didn't want you?

No, not together. There was no togetherness at the moment since Bucky stood you up. He clearly didn't want you. Maybe he never did and he only asked you out as a fluke or some obligation so people would stop trying to set him up.

You wiped at your cheeks again. The unknown was going to keep your mind racing until he told you why he didn't show. He owed you some sort of explanation.

But tonight, you'd walk home alone with a heavy heart and hoped that whatever Bucky was doing that he was okay.

I need a happy ending for them immediately. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hazelira]

cravings & regrets

It was the middle of the night when you shook Heeseung awake.

"Hee," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grunted, shifting in bed. "What is it, baby?"

You hesitated briefly before softly pleading, "I want ice cream."

Heeseung groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "Baby, it’s…" He unquestioningly reached for his phone on the nightstand, squinting at the time. "Three in the morning."

"And?"

His lips pressed together. He was exhausted. He’d spent all day working, running errands, making sure you were comfortable. He just wanted one night of uninterrupted sleep. "Can’t it wait until morning?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

You exhaled sharply, sitting up in bed. "Forget it," you muttered, pushing the blankets off.

Heeseung turned his head, watching you retreat to the living room. He wanted to call you back, apologize, and tell you he’d go—but his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion.

Minutes later, Heeseung woke up to an empty bed.

His arms instinctively reached for you, but all he felt were cold sheets.

A frown tugged at his lips. Maybe you were in the washroom?

But then he heard movement from the living room.

Curious—and slightly uneasy—Heeseung pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stepped out of the bedroom.

His heart dropped at the sight before him.

You were sitting on the couch, struggling to put on your shoes. Your fingers fumbled with the laces, trembling slightly, frustration etched into every movement. Your lips were pressed together, a quiet exhale leaving them as your free hand cradled your belly.

"Please, baby, stop kicking, I know you're hungry." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Just let Mommy go get our ice cream."

Heeseung’s stomach twisted with guilt.

You were really about to go.

Alone.

At three in the morning.

Because he hadn’t listened.

"Baby."

Your hands stilled. Slowly, you turned your head, eyes meeting his.

"Heeseung, go back to bed."

He ignored your words, closing the distance between you and kneeling in front of you. His hands found yours, gently prying them away from your laces. "You were really about to go by yourself?"

You looked away. "I didn’t want to bother you anymore."

A sharp pang hit his chest.

Heeseung sighed, bringing your hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "You never bother me," he murmured.

"You were tired," you said, voice small.

"I should’ve gotten up anyway," he admitted. "You asked me for one thing, and I—" He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I’m sorry."

A beat of silence passed before you finally exhaled. "I just really wanted it, Hee."

"I know, baby," he whispered. "I’ll go get it now."

You blinked. "But—"

"No ‘buts.’ You’re not going anywhere." Heeseung gently took your jacket and shoes, returning them to the door hanger and shoe rack before returning them to you. He guided you to sit comfortably on the couch, ensuring a blanket was draped over you. "Just rest, okay? I’ll be back soon."

"…Three tubs?"

Heeseung chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Three tubs or all of them. Any flavours you want, baby."

And as he stepped out into the cold night, he made a silent promise.

No matter how tired he was, he always got up for you.

The cold night air stung Heeseung’s skin as he stepped out of the apartment complex, hoodie barely enough to shield him from the late-night chill. He exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started toward the nearest convenience store.

He should have gone the first time you asked.

That thought gnawed at him the entire walk there. The image of you struggling to put on your shoes, whispering to the baby inside you, still played in his head like a bad dream.

You didn’t want to bother him anymore.

It made him feel like the worst husband in the world.

By the time he reached the store, Heeseung was already pulling out his phone, scrolling through your texts in search of past cravings. He knew you liked vanilla, but you swore by chocolate some days. Then there was the weird strawberry and caramel combination you’d been obsessed with last month.

"Hey, man, you good?"

The cashier, a tired-looking guy around his age, raised an eyebrow as Heeseung stood frozen in the ice cream aisle, staring at the tubs like they held the answers to life itself.

"My wife’s pregnant," Heeseung explained, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I need to fix it."

The cashier let out a knowing chuckle. "Ah, cravings. Been there, man. Just get one of each."

Heeseung blinked, then nodded quickly. "Right. One of each."

Moments later, he walked out of the store with a bag full of ice cream tubs—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, and even cookies and cream, just in case. It was excessive, sure, but after tonight? He’d rather be safe than sorry.

When Heeseung returned home, the living room was quiet.

You were curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled up to your chin, eyes closed. Your breathing was steady, but your brows were still slightly furrowed, like you hadn’t fully relaxed even in your sleep.

Heeseung’s heart clenched.

Carefully, he set the bag down in the kitchen before reaching you. He crouched beside the couch, brushing a gentle hand over your hair. "Baby," he murmured.

You stirred, letting out a sleepy hum.

"I got your ice cream," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, still groggy. "…You did?"

Heeseung nodded, smiling softly. "Five tubs. Every flavour you like."

A small, sleepy laugh escaped you. "Five?"

"I didn’t wanna risk getting the wrong ones," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to make sure you had what you wanted."

Your gaze softened as you reached up to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Hee."

Heeseung leaned into your touch, exhaling slowly. "I’m sorry for earlier," he murmured. "I should’ve gotten up the first time you asked. You shouldn’t have felt like you had to go alone."

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head. "I was just… frustrated," you admitted quietly. "The cravings are bad, and the baby kicking didn’t help. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty."

Heeseung sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Still. I never want you to feel like you can’t ask me for things. You and our baby come first, always."

Your fingers traced light patterns on his cheek. "You got up in the middle of the night for me."

He huffed a soft laugh. "Of course I did. I’ll do it again if I have to."

You smiled, your eyes filled with warmth now. "You’re the best husband."

Heeseung grinned. "I know."

You rolled your eyes playfully before murmuring, "Can we eat the ice cream now?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing up. "Yeah, baby. Let me get you a spoon."

And as he watched you sit up, eyes lighting up at the sight of the ice cream tubs, Heeseung knew—no matter how exhausted he was, no matter what time it was—he’d do this for you again in a heartbeat.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap as Heeseung set the ice cream tubs in front of you. Your eyes sparkled with satisfaction as you reached for the first tub, quickly scooping a spoonful into a bowl.

"Wait," Heeseung murmured, watching you with an amused smile. "You're mixing all of them?"

You nodded, barely paying him attention as you grabbed another scoop—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, cookies and cream. Each melted slightly into the next, creating a chaotic blend of colours and flavours.

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, shaking his head. "That’s insane."

You glanced up at him with a teasing smirk. "And yet, I’m the one carrying your baby, craving insane things."

He laughed, stretching an arm over the back of the couch as he watched you take the first bite. The second the spoon hit your tongue, you let out a slight, satisfied hum, your body visibly relaxing as the craving was finally happy.

"Is that good?" Heeseung asked, his voice softer now and filled with quiet fondness.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "So good."

Heeseung chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Glad to know my lack of sleep was worth it."

You cracked one eye open, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You already did," he murmured, gaze flickering down to your belly. "By giving me our baby."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the exhaustion, cravings, and frustration from earlier faded into something warm, something safe.

"You wanna try?" you asked, holding the spoon to him.

Heeseung grimaced playfully. "I don’t know if I trust that combination."

You rolled your eyes, scooping another bite and holding it closer. "Come on, Hee. For me?"

He groaned dramatically before leaning in, letting you feed him. The moment the flavours hit his tongue, his face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, no," he muttered after swallowing. "That is not a normal mix."

You giggled, licking the spoon yourself. "More for me, then."

Heeseung just shook his head, smiling as he watched you eat.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. "Hey."

You glanced at him. "Hmm?"

"Promise me next time you want something this bad, you’ll wake me up again," he murmured, reaching for your free hand and lacing his fingers through yours. "Even if I grumble or complain, just wake me up."

Your fingers squeezed his. "I promise."

And with that, Heeseung relaxed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as you continued eating.

Even if he lost sleep every night for the rest of your pregnancy, it would still be worth it—because he’d do anything for you and the little life you were bringing into the world together.

As the minutes ticked by, the ice cream in your bowl slowly melted into a sugary swirl, but you were too full to finish it. You sighed contentedly, setting the spoon down with a soft clink.

"Done?" Heeseung asked, peering at your half-empty bowl.

You nodded, stretching your arms with a sleepy hum. "I think I ate too fast," you admitted, rubbing your belly.

Heeseung chuckled, gently reaching out to place his palm over your bump. "You okay, baby?" he murmured, not just to you but to the tiny life growing inside you.

As if in response, a slight kick nudged against his hand.

His eyes widened slightly before his lips curled into the softest smile. "Still active, huh?"

You giggled. "I think they liked the ice cream."

Heeseung kept his hand there, thumb rubbing slow circles against your stomach. He looked so in awe—like feeling his child move inside you was the most incredible thing in the world.

A lump formed in your throat.

You had moments like this before, but something about how he looked at you now—completely present, entirely yours—made you emotional.

"Hee," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, eyes warm and full of love. "Yeah?"

You swallowed, your free hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "I love you."

His expression softened even more, and without hesitation, he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. It was slow, full of silent apologies and promises, the kind of kiss that made you forget everything else.

"I love you too," he whispered against your lips. "So much."

You smiled, feeling sleepier by the second.

Heeseung noticed. "Come on," he murmured, carefully setting your bowl aside before helping you. "Let’s go to bed."

"But I was comfy here," you whined playfully.

Heeseung rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah? You’re gonna be comfier in bed, baby."

You let him lead you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he guided you back to your shared bedroom. Once you were under the blankets, he climbed beside you, immediately pulling you close.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state.

"Wake me up if you need anything," Heeseung murmured, lips brushing against your forehead.

You hummed sleepily. "Even if it’s for ice cream?"

"Even if it’s for ice cream," he confirmed, his arms tightening around you.

And with that, you drifted off, safe and warm in your husband’s embrace, knowing that no matter what—no matter how exhausted he was—he’d always take care of you.

The following day, Heeseung woke up before you.

It wasn’t intentional—he just happened to stir before the alarm, eyes fluttering open to the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. He first noticed the warmth pressed against him, your body curled into his side, one hand resting over his chest.

A lazy smile tugged at his lips.

You were still asleep, breathing slowly and steadily, and your face was peaceful in the soft morning glow. Heeseung’s heart swelled at the sight, and he carefully shifted to kiss your forehead, not wanting to wake you yet.

Last night’s events played in his mind, and he sighed quietly.

He still felt guilty for not getting up the first time you asked. He hated that you’d been so desperate for something as simple as ice cream that you were willing to go alone in the middle of the night despite how exhausted and uncomfortable you must have been.

Heeseung promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen again.

Careful not to disturb you, he slipped out of bed, padding into the kitchen. The ice cream tubs were still in the freezer, untouched, except for the ones you ate. Heeseung smirked, shaking his head at the ridiculous amount of flavours he had bought.

He could already imagine you teasing him about it later.

Instead of thinking too hard, he started preparing breakfast—something light but comforting. He knew your appetite had been over the place lately, so he settled on making soft scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a small fruit bowl.

As he moved around the kitchen, he kept stealing glances toward the bedroom, listening for any signs of you waking up. He wanted you to sleep as much as possible. You deserved it after last night.

Just as he was about to pour you a glass of water, he heard soft footsteps.

Turning around, he saw you standing in the doorway, hair messy from sleep, eyes still half-lidded. You were wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves covering your hands, making you look even smaller despite your growing belly.

His heart squeezed at the sight.

"Morning, baby," Heeseung greeted, voice gentle.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes before blinking at him. "You left the bed."

He chuckled, setting the glass down before walking over to you. "Just to make breakfast." He reached out, pulling you close so he could press a kiss to your temple. "How’re you feeling?"

You leaned into him, arms looping around his waist. "Better. Still tired."

"Go sit down," he murmured, rubbing your back. "I’ll bring your food."

You didn’t protest, letting him guide you to a chair at the dining table. Heeseung placed the plate in front of you before sitting across from you, watching you take your first bite.

The second you let out a pleased hum, Heeseung felt his shoulders relax.

"Good?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, chewing happily. "You take such good care of me, Hee."

Heeseung’s heart melted at your words. Reaching across the table, he took your free hand in his, squeezing gently.

"Always," he murmured.

And in that quiet morning light, as you shared breakfast together, Heeseung knew it would always be worth it no matter how exhausted or inconvenient.

You sighed happily, the warm breakfast filling you with much-needed comfort. Heeseung sat across from you, his hand still holding yours as if he didn’t want to let go. You knew he felt guilty about last night, even if he hadn’t said it outright.

"Hee," you murmured between bites.

He looked up from his plate. "Yeah?"

You gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You don’t have to feel bad about last night."

His lips parted slightly like he was about to protest, but you beat him to it.

"I get it," you continued. "You were tired. I was just being stubborn." You poked at your eggs with your fork, feeling a little embarrassed now that you were thinking about it with a clearer head. "I should’ve waited until morning instead of trying to go out alone."

Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. "Still," he murmured, eyes filled with guilt, "I don’t like the thought of you struggling alone, even if it’s over something small. You’re carrying our baby, Y/N. I want to be there for you—even when I’m half-asleep and grumpy."

Your chest ached at his sincerity.

"You are here for me," you reassured him. "Always. You came through last night, didn’t you?"

Heeseung let out a soft chuckle. "After being a pain in the ass about it."

You smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. "I love you—even when you’re a pain."

His expression softened, and before you could react, he was out of his chair, crouching beside you. He rested his forehead gently against your belly, hands cradling your sides.

"And I love you," he whispered, speaking to you and the little life inside you. "Both of you."

Your throat tightened, and you were overwhelmed with emotion. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, letting the moment linger.

Then, Heeseung pulled away just enough to look up at you, a teasing glint in his tired eyes.

"…So, no more midnight ice cream runs?"

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. "I mean… I can’t promise that."

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your lap while you giggled, fingers still tangled in his hair.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," he muttered against the fabric of your hoodie.

Despite his complaint, you knew—without a doubt—he’d do it all over again if you asked.

Because Heeseung loved you.

And he would always choose you.

requested by: @leilamaybelyla

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @heavenki @s1rawb3rry @madslove-enhypen @aishigrey @yangjungwonnie @lilmarsh-t @hoseokteardrop @mrsjjongstby @ro-diaries @ijustwannareadstuff20 @leilamaybelyla @celestialen

[wlfchnlv3r]

Life is so good

mute best friend! Hyunjin x best friend! female reader

Synopsis: You and hyunjin, your mute best friend, were on vacation with other friends, what could change your relationship?

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, 🔞🔞!!!, best friends to lovers, foreplay! Enjoy

Note: I’m back, work literally killed me but I’m here and I wish you all a merry Christmas guys!

It’s already 3 am and you are scrolling through your phone in your room, It was peaceful, your own little bubble of isolation. You barely notice the shadow that crossed in front of the window until Hyunjin hopped through, landing in the room with

his usual quiet grace.

You aren’t surprise of his visit and just signs with your hand “no sleep?”.

Hyunjin caught your question for a moment before ignoring it and signing with his hands “What are you doing?” he sits on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“Just scrolling some post on Instagram” you say lifting the bed sheets for him to come near you.

Your friend crawls into the bed next to you. The two of you move on autopilot, shifting closer to one another. He lifts his arm, and you don’t hesitate to snuggle up against him, your head resting against his chest. He pulls the covers over both of you, his other arm wrapping around your waist and holding you tight.

“You seem tired…” your voice is low.

He reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle, yet there’s a slight tension in the way he move, he lets out a soft exhale and signs, “Can’t sleep….”; After a few moments of silent he continues to move his hands “how was your date with that short guy…?”

You choked a laugh and whisper in his ear “boring- we watched some football and then i invented an excuse to return here” you admitted with a soft smile.

Hyunjin watches your lips as you speak, his eyes tracing over the movement of your mouth. The word “boring” seems to placate him a little bit. He brings his hand up, gently cupping your jawline, his thumb rubbing small circles against your skin.

Your friend signed “You didn’t like him”. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, a fact he knew already.

You let your body relax under his touch, closing your eyes and nodding.

He lets out a low, pleased hum at your answer, his hand still cupping your chin, tilting your head back to rest against his chest. For a while, he simply holds you like this, his thumb still tracing soothing patterns against your skin. There’s something possessive in his touch, like he’s reminding himself that you’re here, in his arms, and not with that other guy.

“Hyunjin?” You call out his name before continuing “have you ever been intimate with a girl…?” yes, he was your best friend but a part of you needed an answer to this question.

Hyunjin chest rises and falls against your back as he takes a deep breath, the question seeming to fluster him a little. For a moment, he doesn’t answer, just holds you tighter, like he’s trying to press the words out of himself. Then, almost reluctantly, he signs, “…Yes, once, some time ago”.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your mind was already burning with jealousy.

He pauses for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on a point past your head. Finally, he signs, slowly, the words reluctant to leave him, “It didn’t mean anything.”

He swallows, his hand still tracing circles on your back, a gesture meant to soothe, either himself or you, he wasn’t sure which one.

You just nods slowly trying to process everything.

Hyunjin notices your reaction, or lack thereof. Despite the nonchalant tone of your nods, he can sense the unease, the insecurity hidden beneath your cool exterior. He moves suddenly, rolling you onto your back, so he’s pinning you beneath him. He hovers above you, his body enveloping you, his fingers moving quickly as he signs, “You don’t believe me?”

Your eyes widen and you sign “I didn’t said that, just wondering who this girl is.. i think”

Hyunjin huffs, annoyed that you aren’t accepting his word, but it’s a small victory, seeing you looking up at him like this. He lets out a sigh, his hand coming up to comb through your hair, his gaze fixed on yours.

He signs again, reluctantly, “She was… just a girl. Someone I met at a party. It was a long time ago, and I don’t remember her name anymore.”

“She knew sign language?” You sign immediately.

Your friend shakes his head, his fingers never stopping the soothing motion of playing with your hair. In the dim lighting of the room, his eyes seem almost dark, the pupils dilated. He swallows and signs again, his movements a little rougher this time, almost as if he was frustrated by the whole conversation “Does it matter? She was nobody.”

You were taken aback by his answer, she didn’t know sign language?… “But you were intimate with her- I mean-“ You started talking again but he cut you letting out an exasperated sigh, he lifts one of your hands, pressing it flat against his chest, his heart beating a steady, strong rhythm beneath your palm. Hyunjin signs, his movements sharp and clear, as if he was trying to make his point very clear, “I. Didn’t. Enjoy. It.”

You stared at him with a more relaxed expression.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face, trying to read your expression. Then, his hand slides down, cupping the side of your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip.

Hyunjin signs again, his movements softer this time, almost tender “The only one who matters… is you.”, then again, “Only. You.”

He moves, lowering himself against you, his body caging you beneath him, his hand still holding your face, his thumb running over your bottom lip again.

You shiver, you had to admit that in the last period you started seeing Hyunjin as more than… your usual best friend.

Hyunjin tilts your head back, exposing the column of your throat, his eyes zeroed in on the pulse point that fluttered wildly beneath your skin. His nose grazes your jawline, inhaling the scent that’s so distinctly you, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. His body is all hard planes and taut muscles, press against you from above, pinning you down, the heat radiating off of him almost feverish. He shifts against you, settling his hips between your legs, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces.

“Always you” he signs.

You smile at him, probably the most sincere smile you ever done, everything about this moment is making you want more and more.

Hyunjin watches your smile, his eyes tracing over the curve of your lips. It’s a good reaction, he thinks, although not nearly enough; He signs, “More”, and without warning he pressed his fingers on your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth.

As you gasp your friend takes advantage of it to claim your mouth, his lips devouring yours, his tongue delving in, tasting you, claiming you.

He swallows the sound you made, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you in place as his mouth continues to plunder yours.

You immediately close yours eyes, that’s the more you wanted.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop, his lips moving fiercely against yours, his tongue sweeping over every inch of your mouth. He can feel your body trembling beneath his, the soft sounds you’re making spurring him on, only adding fuel to the fire that’s burning inside him.

He breaks the kiss for a brief moment, just long enough to sign, “You taste like mine.”

You look directly into his eyes and signs “it tastes right to me”

Hyunjin huffs, the corners of his lips curving up in a half-smile at your response. He likes that, you agreeing, confirming his possessiveness over you.

He dips his head, his mouth attaching to the skin below your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, his tongue leaving trails of heat in its wake.

You try not to make loud noises to let your other friends sleep but slowly you moan begin to be louder and louder.

Hyunjin can practically feel the way you’re holding back. He knows you’re trying to be quiet, to not give in too easily, and it only makes him more determined to break you. He continues his assault on your neck and collarbone, his hands slipping under the edge of your shirt, his fingers tracing the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help but whine, the desire burning inside of you at every touch.

His lips curve into a smile against your skin, feeling the way you’re starting to unravel in his hands.

Hyunjin slowly, torturously, moves lower, his mouth trailing a path down your body, until he’s leaving a trail of hickeys down your chest and stomach.

You are so sensitive to him, every kiss and every bite makes you squirm from pleasure.

He nips and kisses at the skin just above your panties, his hands running up and down your thighs, his touches firm but gentle at the same time, almost teasing. Hyunjin can feel the heat of your core so close to his mouth, and it’s taking all his self-control to not give in immediately.

“Pull- pull them off” your plea make him laugh a little.

He looks up at you, his eyes darkened in desire, his hands resting on the inside of your thighs, his fingers pressing against the sensitive skin there, parting your legs more.

He signs with one hand, his movements almost rough, “Perfect”.

He lows your panties and pull them aside before lifting your legs on his shoulder to have a better access to you, “So wet for me?” he signs.

You laugh a little at his sarcastic sign feeling his hot breaths against your core.

Hyunjin moans softly when his tongue touches your clit, the sound a deep rumble in his chest, the first time you’ve heard him make any noise that’s not signing. He slides his hands beneath your hips, lifting your hips up, pushing your legs further apart, his mouth moving against your folds savoring the moment.

You are already lost in pleasure, your lips parted and eyes locked into him, the way his tongue makes circular movement over your sensitive clit and penetrates your tiny hole make you shiver so bad.

He can feel how close you are, the way your body is tensing beneath his touch, the sounds you’re making growing more urgent, more desperate. He keeps going, his tongue swirling and swirling, bringing you to the edge and keeping you there, waiting for the moment when you’ll finally fall.

You hold onto to the bed sheets “hyunjin-“

He can feel the way you’re shaking, how hard you’re trying not to come undone just yet, and it only makes him more determined to push you over the edge. He lifts his head for a moment, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick, just long enough to sign to you again, “Cum for me” his fingers press into your hip, holding you in place, his eyes dark with lust, his voice a growled command.

You come undone with a loud moan as he watches you intently, his eyes taking in every reaction, every sound you make. He can see the way your body trembles, the way your eyes slide shut as you fall over the edge, and he swallows a growl of satisfaction, his tongue continuing to lick you, prolonging your orgasm until you’re practically begging for him to stop. He lifts his head, a small smirk on his face, and lifts himself up, his hands running up the length of your body, until he’s hovering over you, his eyes locked on yours.

You blush while catching some air, “come here, please”.

He leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing slightly heavier than normal. He lifts one of his hands, his fingers brushing through your hair, an uncharacteristically gentle gesture from the normally stoic guy. He signs, his fingers moving slowly, “Say it again.”

You smile “I want you here, near me, Hyunjin”.

He huffs, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He pulls back, letting his eyes roam over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your damp hair, the way you’re looking at him with a mixture of need and desire.

He signs, his movements steady and sure, “I’m never gonna let you go”.

You laugh a little “that’s a threat?”.

He signs “a promise”.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere

(comment to be added to the master list🎐)

[gublernatural]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[merrybloomwrites]

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

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

It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment. 

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things. 

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets. 

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself. 

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you. 

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you. 

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says. 

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day. 

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week. 

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh. 

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it. 

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting. 

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you. 

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact. 

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled. 

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it. 

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved. 

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected. 

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day. 

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks. 

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening. 

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds. 

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys. 

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds. 

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you. 

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully. 

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it. 

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family. 

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place. 

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said. 

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details. 

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure. 

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved. 

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad. 

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it. 

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back. 

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness. 

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things. 

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine. 

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest. 

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.  

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say. 

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies. 

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch. 

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful. 

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time. 

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you. 

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home. 

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together. 

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood. 

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it. 

“I need to be held,” you say. 

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile. 

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

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

AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

[dancingdonatello]

2012 boys with a reader who likes hearing them churr? Will purposely do things to make their turtle churr or pull them off to a more private area to cuddle with them and just exist- the fluffy stuff? :3

Bonus points for if the turtles were nervous to make the more turtly noises in case the reader thought they were weird- but in reality we just melt at the cuteness of it and just think our turtle boy is comfortable with us??

Love your writing! Hope your having a lovely timezone :]

2012 tmnt x reader

“Please?” You prodded Leo in the side. He gave you a tense look.

“No.”

“Come on, it’s not as weird as you make it out to be!” You scooted further into his side, looking up at him. “Nobody’s here either. Just you and me. Please? You know you wanna…”

He looked around, flushing darkly. “I don’t know why you like it so much.” You pressed an ear to his plastron, giggling when you could faintly hear the noise. You could more feel it than heat it.

“Cause it means you’re happy or that you like me so much, I don’t know.” You listened to it gradually grow in volume, grinning happily. He slowly started to relax, probably with how you pressed so much weight into him that you forced his shell to the couch cushions. You laid on his plastron, tracing patterns into it as you listened to the stuttering engine noise.

Raph rolled his eyes violently as you dragged him into his room. You stared up at him with expectant eyes and when he looked back at you blankly, you tackled him into his bed.

“Raph, don’t you want to make me happy?” you pouted, nuzzling in under his chin. He laid stiffly below you, gritting his teeth. You giggled as he struggled to stifle it in his chest. “Raphie.”

“Shut up.” He gave up and let the noise start up, staring up at his ceiling as you squeaked happily. How stupid things like the turtle noises he could make made you so happy confused him but whatever.

“Doesn’t it feel better to not hold it in?” That was definitely not how it worked but he stayed silent, besides the churrs.

Donnie rubbed his chin over the top of your head, his churring quiet but constant. You had been on his lap for the past few minutes, lazily scrolling on your phone. All it had taken was you petting over his scales and he started churring. He ignored your smug look and looked away.

You’d always try to embarrass him in front of his brothers by messing around and petting him of all things. All that just to hear him churr because you were convinced it was as cute as a pure from a cat.

He didn’t have the heart to inform you that churring didn’t always mean a turtle was just happy. He didn’t want to make it even more embarrassing for himself or his brothers.

It didn’t take a lot to get Mikey to churr. If you smiled at him, he churred. If you brushed hands, he churred. Even asleep, when you crawled into his bed, he would churr unconsciously at the feeling of you next to him.

Even if he was embarrassed about it, he couldn’t stop it. He could never push it down like his brothers could. He’d run away when it kickstarted up and you’d chase after him with a giddy grin.

He couldn’t talk either when churring. It’s definitely one way to shut him up.

[suiana]

(yandere! foreign exchange student x gn! reader) (thanks for 8k 😍😍)

"can you stop being so annoying?"

"what?"

he stares at you with a raised eyebrow, pouting as he rests his cheek on his palm. with both arms propped up on the table, he reaches out his other arm towards you. obviously you back away in disgust at his affection... and you can't help but notice the way he narrows his eyes at your reaction.

he, as in, your annoying buddy. hiroto yamada, your buddy for the foreign exchange program which you were unwillingly made to participate in.

you knew bad things would happen when you saw the program, yet you were made to participate in it because you had joined the university wellbeing club. curse you and your past impulsive decisions.

honestly, things were fine in the beginning. apart from the fact that you had to socialize with others and waste your breath explaining things in the university... everything was quite alright. he wasn't too extroverted, liked to keep to himself as well...

that was until you started suspecting that he liked you.

you didn't want to believe it. there was no way. like, it's literally the absolute worse thing that could happen that would disrupt your peaceful school life.

so you pretended to not see the obvious signs he threw at you. you treated him like how you used to treat him, aka like a classmate you wouldn't talk to outside of class...

so it wasn't unexpected that he'd get frustrated. in fcat, it was actually a wonder that he managed to go for so long without shouting at you to stop ignoring the signs (he lasted 6 weeks).

eventually he confessed but... you didn't accept. duh. you didn't even like him that way! you didn't even treat him like a close friend so why would you fall or accept his love?

so you rejected him. understandable response.

but he wouldn't take it for an answer.

so he constantly pestered you in hopes that you'd finally give in and say yes. which is what led you to your current situation.

"you know, trying to act like my boyfriend..."

"but I'm just practicing for the future that will happen?"

he raises an eyebrow, seemingly confused as you roll your eyes at his reply. you make no move to explain yourself because you knew that he understood what you meant. he's a smart guy after all. he just likes playing dumb to get on your nerves.

and right now he's doing that.

you honestly wanted to just beat him up but that'll never work out in your favor. so you settle for the next best thing and that's to ignore him. and it always works.

turning around to face away from him, you plug in your ear phones and tune his blabbering out as you attempt to ignore him. it worked for a little bit but he always gets irritated the second you lose interest in him.

"hey pay attention to me..."

he whines softly, tugging on your shirt. you continue to ignore him, humming softly as you scroll on social media. oh this is a nice post-

but the second you move your hand to like it, he yanks the phone out of your grip and hides it in his bag. his face displays an annoyed expression, furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips.

you wanted to smack his face so bad. and you were just about to do that until he speaks in a chilling tone.

"you can't keep ignoring me. you know that we'll end up with each other. it's inevitable."

he mumbles before caressing your cheek. you shiver, eyes wide as your blood runs cold. shit! unconsensual touch! unconsensual touch!

but as much as you hated his touch, you couldn't move away for you were too frozen in fear. he always had a way of scaring you with his voice. and he loved to abuse it.

"you're really going to make me mad... so please don't keep resisting. it's not humourous or cute."

he mutters quietly before giggling as he lets go of your face. all you do is stare at him, still frozen in place as you gulp and finally look away.

god damn it. you really should've fought harder to get out of the exchange program.

[sinstear]

please keep unfollowing me. you stay silent, you are complicit with what’s happening. i don’t want fake ass friends.

to the ones who would rather ignore it and the ones who just don’t fucking care; you’re pathetic. you’re disgusting, and i wish i didn’t know you.

i feel sick to my stomach. i’m sick to my stomach. disgusted even by the fact you’re blatantly ignoring a genocide. scrolling past videos and posts about the real world where people are dying every minute, and instead you sit there giggling like a complete twat. literal fucking idiots asking me why i’m mad. the question you should be asking yourself is, why are YOU not mad? why are YOU not upset? why are YOU not pissed off? why are YOU sitting there and acting like nothing is happening?

ya’ll for real make me wanna rip my hair out. you have these big platforms, but you don’t even wanna use it? you state you give a shit, but you’re silent the fucking second something happens? spare me that shit. be for real. if you cared, you would be speaking out more. no one has time for your fake ass excuses anymore.

to the ones who are using their platform and using it to spread awareness. i love you. i love you for using your voice. i love you for simply reblogging everything you see. thank you. you all are amazing.

but for the ignorant assholes? fuck off. get away. you’re all complicit, and i don’t care about you.

As usual, Free Palestine 🇵🇸

how you can help Palestine

Palestine masterpost

donate to Palestine

[kitashousewife]

“yes, rintaro?”

“hi-jesus, a warning next time would be nice,”

“you called me,” you huff, picking at the now dried mask on your face in the small reflection of the facetime. “what do you want, rin?”

suna is outside, walking rather quickly as the background is blurred around him. he lets out an airy laugh before looking at the screen.

“i’m drunk;” he smirks, continuing to walk but tripping a little, shaking the camera. you raise your eyebrows at him to continue. he sniffs. “and i’m coming over.”

“is your house broken or something?”

he giggles, then shakes his head. “nah, yours is closer though.”

you sigh and accept defeat. you knew your best friend was in the neighborhood from his social media posts, so it’s no surprise he’s deciding to drop in. it’s late though, well past midnight. you shuffle into your bathroom to rinse off the mask, setting your phone on the counter.

“when will you be here?”

he clears his throat and swallows. “i’m walking up the stairs, so 2 min-fuck-minutes,” he trips up the steps and groans.

“what? okay give me a minute, i’ll be right there,” you wash off your mask quickly and run to the door, realizing too late as you slide on your socked feet that you’re only in a t shirt, suna’s t shirt. you open the door to find a very intoxicated suna, leaning against your with heavy eyes and a smile, which turns to a frown when he sees you.

“hey, that’s mine,” he taps the collar of your shirt before pushing past you, slipping off his shoes and throwing his coat on the floor.

“you reek, rin. god, where were you?”

he smirks. now making himself comfy on the couch despite your protesting glares.

“the club a few blocks away, it was packed and-“ he hiccups. “y-yeah it was just busy. aran was there,”

“don’t fall asleep on my couch,” you tap his leg as you walk past, tidying up a little. he opens his eyes and sits up, slumped into the cushions. “how do you feel?”

suna doesn’t answer. he scrolls on his phone at full volume, completely ignoring you while chuckling at the different videos he comes across.

one of the worst things about your best friend was how stubborn he is normally, but that stubbornness triples when he’s had enough to drink.

you stand in front of him with your arms crossed for a few more seconds before you clear your throat. he finally looks up and waves.

“rin, why don’t you-“

“so yeah, aran was there and-“ he laughs at something on his phone, losing his train of thought.

“how about you take a shower?”

“no,” he pouts again. “why don’t you take a shower?”

you huff. “i’m calling aran to get y-“

“i think i’m going to take a shower,” he grunts, standing up and following you to the bathroom while you grab towels for him. when you finish turning the water, he begins to lift up his shirt.

“uh-uh,” you laugh to yourself and slip out the door, pulling it shut. “you can do that in private. take your time, i’m going to bed.”

“but what if i wanted you to see?”

you stutter. “y-you’re drunk, rin. just shower, please.”

you hear him clamber into the shower soon after and retreat to your bed. as you settle in, suna’s comment continues to nag at you. sure, he jokes around and has his fun with you. but in the many years being his best friend, he’s never made any sort of effort to make a move on you.

you feel dizzy, suddenly picturing suna in a way you had never before. it felt like jumping off the high dive and into water all at once.

“what am i supposed to wear?” a very wet suna waltzes into your room with a towel on his waist, and you wish you could jump into that pool right now. you can’t take your eyes off his torso, eyeing the defined muscle as they flex with every step.

“there’s s-some of your clothes here from last time, they’re clean i just forgot to give them to you,” you jump out of bed and rummage through your closet before handing him his belongings.

“oh cool,” he walks back to the bathroom, bumping into the wall on the way. you slink back to bed without another word.

just as you’re drifting off to sleep, your mattress dips.

“hi,” suna breathes, getting under your covers with you.

“what are you doing?” you hiss, voice a whisper. he stares back at you with an irritated look.

“painting a picture, what does it look like? i’m going to bed,” he huffs, pulling your covers over him and leaving your legs exposed to the cold air.

“rintaro,” you pull the covers back over you and he groans. “i don’t want to hear it! if you’re going to sleep in my bed at least share.”

he remains quiet, making himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. meanwhile, your heart is racing and your mind is fighting between being bothered and pining over your best friend.

“did you use my shampoo?”

“of course i did,” suna’s voice is tired as he finally settles in. “the extra stuff you gave me sucks. and you smell good so thought i’d use it,”

your heart skips a beat. you don’t say anything, though.

your eyes get a little heavy, mind finally relaxing as the heavy sounds of suna’s breathing lull you to sleep.

the next morning you wake up next to your best friend, blinking a few times before you get a good look at him. he’s resting against the pillow, your blanket pulled up to his bare chest while he scrolls on his phone.

“good morning rin,” you mumble, yawning and sitting up. “did you sleep okay? are you feeling today today?”

“slept great,” he mumbles, eyes not leaving his screen. “i feel okay. head hurts,”

you nod, handing him your water bottle and an aspirin from your bedside table which he happily takes.

“thanks for letting me stay here by he way,”

“of course,” you watch as he sits up, blankets falling to his hips and showcasing his muscles once more.

“i feel bad that you had to deal with me,” he looks you in your eyes and for some reason, it feels different from normal. you shrug.

“i don’t mind.”

he smirks and gets comfortable once more, but begins typing on his phone with a giggle.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing,” he smirks at the screen. “i just told aran we slept together, though.

“rintaro!”

[lizzyiii]

just read “his lady love” and i’m completely obsessed with your writing, i definitely need a part 2 for that please 😭😭😭

His Lady Love (2)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.8k words

summary | you return to westeros, to find that the young prince has become a man and his burning infatuation with you has not died out and you reconnect with helaena

tags | no warnings? usual mention of targaryen incest (but let's be real, everyone who reads hotd fanfic has now normalised targcest), and child marriage (my poor bby Helaena), filler

note | oh my god, y'all 😭. idk what I was thinking with that dramatic ass mikaelson reveal. as we all know the reader is never described, but as we all also know the mikaelsons are white af. so I'm making it clear that the reader is NOT mikael's daughter, leaving the reader's description and race unknown, esther was busy getting her freak on and her real father will never be disclosed. because in my mind the reader or y/n is and will always be a curly-haired, brown-skinned baddie....so each to their own. AND I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series cause for the life of me I am unable to make a oneshot without further exploring a story.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Five long years had stretched into nearly two thousand sunrises since Aemond Targaryen last laid eyes upon you. Each passing day weighed heavily on his soul, a slow burn of a thousand bitter memories. Some days, the tempest of his emotions roiled within him, bidding him to hate you—for your departure, for the way you had vanished from court like a wisp of smoke, leaving only echoes and shadows in your wake.

But the flames of that hate flickered and faded, giving rise to a deeper yearning, a gaping void where love had once flourished. Even now, after all this time, your spirit held his heart captive, stolen under the very nose of fate when you chose to forsake the realm.

In the wake of your absence, thirteen year old Aemond had become a specter haunting the hallowed halls of the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls in a frantic quest for knowledge of House Mikaelson—a house that seemed to dissolve into the mists of myth with each turn of the page. The histories were silent, and when he turned to his elders, the lords and ladies of the court, their ignorance stung deeper than any sword. Your name was but a whisper lost amongst the louder clamor of dragons and destinies.

Desperation guided his steps toward the Queen’s solar, where his mother resided. He pressed forth, demanding answers of her, yet it was peculiar; though he sought her wisdom and guidance, she seemed to have forgotten the very reason of why she had made you one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her brows knitted with confusion as he spoke your name, her big brown eyes clouded with a nostalgia she could not place.

Yet Aemond could see it in the gentle curve of her lips, in the way her gaze drifted past him, as if searching for a phantom. She missed you, that was clear. Her heart held a chamber of memories crafted from your offered comfort amidst the whispers of court intrigue, from the grace of your presence that had brightened the darker days.

The weight of five relentless years bore heavily upon Aemond Targaryen. Through trials of fire and blood, he had forged himself anew, emerging both mentally and physically formidable. He was now the most skilled swordsman within the keep’s sturdy walls, a warrior of such caliber that even the esteemed Ser Criston Cole would struggle to match his prowess. Secluded in the dim light of solitary training grounds, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes of philosophy and the illustrious history of House Targaryen, dedicated to honing his mind as keenly as his sword.

Yet in this relentless pursuit of strength and mastery, the warmth of his heart had withered, leaving behind only the chill of calculated ambition. His facade, meticulously crafted, rendered him cold and unyielding — a visage so fierce that even the bravest souls flinched at the thought of meeting his gaze directly.

Thus, it was with a jarring dissonance that Aemond entered his sister, Helaena's solar that day. It was a ritual he had come to cherish against the backdrop of his darkening spirit, visiting her and the twins for a fleeting moment of respite. However, as he stepped across the threshold, the air thickened and his breath caught in his throat.

Helaena sat with delicate artistry upon a chaise, embroidering threads of vibrant colors while keeping a watchful eye on her children. But it was not the familiar sight of his sister that seized him. No, there, in the heart of the chamber, stood his mother, Queen Alicent, holding the hands of a woman whose features were obscured from his view. However, even with your back turned, he recognized you and your unmistakable figure.

Alicent’s large, expressive eyes caught his, shimmering with an emotion he had not anticipated. “Aemond,” she uttered softly, the sound piercing through the tension-laden silence.

With the calling of his name, you turned, and the breath in his lungs faltered. The years stretched out like an endless tapestry between the two of you, but as he beheld you standing there after all this time, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Five long years had passed, and in that span, Aemond had transformed. His once-boyish frame had hardened, each line of muscle now finely chiseled, his stature soaring to a height that eclipsed yours. He had shed the skin of youth and emerged a man forged by the fires of ambition and vengeance, yet he could feel a familiar tug at his heart as he stared at you.

But you… you had remained untouched by time’s relentless march. Your face, flawless and luminous, bore no marks of age; not a wrinkle nor blemish dared mar your smooth skin. Your form he remembered was preserved in perfection, your hair framing your figure in the same glorious waves that had enchanted him years ago.

You were the embodiment of memories he cherished, the same as ever.

For a fleeting heartbeat, Aemond dared to believe you were but a haunting mirage conjured by his yearning heart. If not for the watchful eyes of his mother and sister resting upon you, he would have thought himself lost to despair, ensnared by the fantasies of his own making.

An eternity seemed to stretch in the daunting silence that enveloped the two of you, the world around forgotten as each of you engaged in a quiet, yet profound examination. Your eyes sparkled like the night sky in the light of the day, and when you smiled—the same saccharine smile that had once filled his heart with joy during the innocence of his childhood—it left him breathless. “My prince,” you spoke softly, your voice dancing in the air, “how you’ve grown.”

In that moment, something within him shifted—a profound balm against the bitterness he had nurtured like a dark plant within his chest. All the resentment, the stinging remembrance of your abandonment, and the shadows of sadness that once clouded his thoughts dissipated at the mere sight of your smile. His throat was dry as a winter's night, thoughts scattered like ash on the wind, and yet, the corners of his mouth began to lift involuntarily, mirroring the warmth radiating from you.

Mikaelson.

A name that struck terror into the hearts of countless souls. Yet, here, in this strange realm of Westeros, where dragons soared and the icy dread of White Walkers loomed behind the walls, such fear was but a whisper lost to the winds. No, this land, though foreign and fierce, offered you sanctuary—not the kind woven from solace and warmth, but the kind fortified by distance and the absence of your cursed siblings.

Here, there were no vampires lurking in the cloaks of night, nor were there werewolves howling beneath the pale moonlight. Instead, there were dragons, fierce and resplendent, and direwolves, proud and wild. Most crucially, there was no Mikael—a freedom that tasted of hope amidst you heart's turmoil.

True, you thought often on whether you should have brought your siblings along, for Mikael would never find this place. Yet, a heavy foreboding gripped you; you understood all too well that the Mikaelsons (Niklaus) very presence would shatter the fragile peace you sought. Westeros was far from a land of plenty, riddled with poverty and further burdened by the cruel fate of women, yet in its chaos lay distance.

So, you fled, slipping away into the shrouded embrace of night, abandoning the only family you had known—or, more accurately, what was left of it. It was the sixteenth century, a time when hope flickered dimly in the eyes of men and women alike. You had not laid eyes upon Finn since Niklaus, in his relentless wrath, had condemned him to a tormented existence, and staked a dagger in his heart. Kol fared no better; his defiance had earned him Niklaus' ire, leaving him to face the very same fate that had befallen their eldest brother.

Months had slipped by as you braved the tempestuous seas, each wave an echo of your desperation, each gust of wind whispering promises of a new beginning. You had set sail toward the edge of the earth, guided by an insatiable yearning for freedom—until at last, you had discovered Westeros.

You had arrived in Westeros with an unyielding ambition, your ethereal beauty concealing a fierce determination that allowed you to easily compel your way into the court of Queen Alicent Hightower as one of her ladies-in-waiting. The smell of dragonfire and the whispers of civil war clung to the air, a distinct reminder of the foreign heritage of the Targaryens.

The first time you had seen one of the great beasts aloft, its shadow sweeping across the land, leaving you breathless and in awe. Dragons were an embodiment of the Targaryen power, but alongside that power lurked a shocking underbelly of normalized incestuous unions and the festering decay of traditional familial bonds. For a girl raised among the Mikaelsons, who had danced among the vices of immortality, this was both familiar and grotesque.

Your new world was laced with intrigue—rumors skittered through the halls like restless spirits. The whispers spoke of Princess Rhaenyra and the seed of doubt surrounding her claim to the Iron Throne, the barbs of scandal raised even higher by her many alleged bastards. These complexities intrigued you, compelling you to observe from the outside, where the machinations of power were far more amusing than any political play you had encountered in your old life.

Queen Alicent, though esteemed and regal, bore the weight of her flaws almost indiscernibly, like a cloak of gold marred by rust. From what you could tell, the Queen wielded herself like a pawn—her father being Otto Hightower, an unseen puppeteer, tugging at the strings of her choices. Maternal instinct flickered in Alicent like the candle flames that lit the chamber at night; she faltered and stumbled but made an earnest effort to nurture her children as best she could, though in your opinion she had failed miserably with Aegon. And yet, her fund of effort, a raw and poignant endeavor, resonated with you. The Queen was imperfect, yet within that human frailty lay a semblance of motherhood that Esther Mikaelson had failed to give you.

Thus, in your role as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, you discovered a sanctuary of sorts. The court became a twisted labyrinth of alliances and betrayals, yet amidst the swirling intrigue, you found comfort in Alicent’s earnest attempts at kindness towards you.

In the two years you had spent in Westeros, you had found solace in the delicate friendship you created with Princess Helaena—a rare gem among the Targaryens, whose sweet and gentle spirit seemed devoid of the cunning that defined her kin. Helaena's quiet understanding struck a chord deep within you, reminiscent of a time before death had twisted your mind. Once, you too had lived in a world that felt like a dream, until Niklaus tore down the veil of your innocence with his ruthless reality check. He had carved fear into your heart, reminding you of the darkness that lurked within the world.

But as you observed Helaena, an overwhelming sorrow enveloped you. The Queen's decree to betroth the princess to Prince Aegon sank like a stone in her gut. Aegon—a broken soul, defined by indulgence and ambition—was a force of chaos that echoed the wickedness of their own familial bond. In many ways, he reminded you of Kol, with his infectious charm and volatile spirit, yet where Kol harbored a flicker of love beneath layers of darkness, Aegon radiated a depravity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart ached at the thought of Helaena being shackled to a boy so unworthy of her light. The specter of Aegon’s reckless nature loomed large, and you feared for the princess's fate. You could see it clearly: with every passing day of their union, Helaena’s spirit would wither under the weight of neglect and cruelty, her gentle soul extinguished in the fires of a loveless bond.

And then there was Prince Aemond, the second youngest son of Alicent's brood—a striking boy marked by a fierce determination to embrace his responsibilities as a prince. You often felt a pang of sympathy when you witnessed the relentless taunts from Aegon and the scornful jeers of his nephews, sorrow swelling in your chest at the knowledge that he was the only Targaryen without a dragon to call his own. And it was hard to ignore the tender glances he cast your way, his violet eyes lingering on you whenever you graced a room.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Aemond standing at your door during the elusive hour of the wolf, his ethereal silver hair, tousled and framing a face streaked with tears, the light of hope dimmed in his now singular violet eye. Fury ignited in your core when he confided the harrowing tale of how Aegon had dragged him to the Street of Silk, that dark sanctuary of vice—your heart shattered for the innocence that had been ripped from him, for the heavy shame that now clung to him, marked by his brother who should have looked out and protected him. By now, Aegon was six-and-ten, he should have gleaned wisdom from his years, yet he chose the path of cruelty instead.

In an effort to soothe the wounded prince, you opened your heart and your arms to him. You conceded to his requests, bathing him with tender care, allowing him the sanctuary of your presence as he lay beside you. Your intentions were pure, untainted by anything but the desire to comfort a boy you had come to deeply care for.

And yet, with a heavy heart, you turned your back on Westeros, your mind haunted by the echoes of family. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, you found yourself yearning for the bonds that had once defined you. The Targaryens, ensnared in their web of resentment and betrayal, made it clear that true loyalty and love were rare treasures. Their familial discord stood in stark contrast to the fierce devotion of your own bloodline. For all the chaos wrought by the Mikaelsons, love remained their unyielding anchor.

Niklaus, with his volatile nature, was both feared and revered by you; yet, beneath that fierce exterior lay a soul tormented by the shadows of his past, perpetually haunted by the specter of abandonment. Finn and Kol, locked in eternal slumber by Niklaus’s cruel whim, lay undisputed in their coffins, yet your brother stood sentinel over them, unwavering and steadfast. The thought of returning to him was chilling; the mere sight of you would surely earn a dagger in your own heart.

You resolved to escape, to steal away before Queen Alicent could impose a husband upon you like a gilded cage. It was meant to be a brief respite, a momentary retreat from your burdens. You had once believed that seamlessly integrating into the intricate tapestry of Westerosi society would be a simple endeavor. Yet, the relentless weight of expectations proved stifling. Each encounter demanded a dance of delicate grace, a façade meticulously curated to meet the desires of those around you, and in turn, it drained your very spirit.

Thus, you sought solace in the sun-drenched lands of Essos, a realm that defied the rigid conventions you had grown weary of. Essos was a land of vibrant colors and broken norms, where the sun shone unabated and the very air seemed to sing of possibility. Gone were the burdens of being gracious and demure, replacing those restraints with the intoxicating freedom to explore the wild tapestry of cultures sprawled before you. In a realm filled with mercenaries and traders, where the scent of spice mingled with the salty sea air, you couldn’t help but feel invigorated.

Shame washed over you like a cold wave, a sharp pang of regret settling in your chest as you sat in Princess Helaena's solar, surrounded by the laughter of her twins, Jahaerys and Jahaera. The children, mere five summers old, served as a vivid reminder of your absence; Helaena had brought them into the world at the tender age of fourteen, while you had been lost in the allure of Essos. Your own selfish pursuits had drawn you away from Westeros, leaving your dear friend to navigate the tides of motherhood without your companionship.

But now, fate had drawn you back to Westeros, though the reason for your return eluded you—perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a desire to witness the Targaryens as they embarked on a path toward their own ruin. Perhaps it was simply the lingering comfort of a maternal embrace that Queen Alicent had once offered you. One thing remained certain: you were back, unchanged yet bound by the curse that clung to the Mikaelsons. You still appeared as you had, forever encased at the tender age of six and ten, the same age at which you had died nearly six centuries ago.

The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys, the young prince, was somber and introspective, casting shy glances your way from beneath the curtain of his silver hair. In contrast, Jaehaera exuded a lively spirit, her laughter as bright as the morning sun. She was a sweet girl, eager for your attention, her small hands clutching her beloved dolls as she beckoned you to join her in playful realms of castles and grand adventures. Every so often, Jaehaerys would join in, indulging his sister’s imagination by taking on the role of a fierce dragon, albeit with a reluctance that made his quiet demeanor all the more endearing.

“I have missed you,” Helaena said softly from her place on the chaise, delicate fingers working through the intricate patterns of her embroidery, her gaze never leaving the fabric.

You met her gaze, a frown momentarily shadowing your features, your heart tightening at the sight of her. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you replied, "As I have missed you, princess. I offer my sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence."

“But you have returned, and that is what matters,” she replied with a tranquil certainty, her expression unwavering.

With a nod, you maintained your tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth struggling to lift fully. “Indeed, I have, and I hope to stay here for as long as fate allows.”

As you resumed your playful moments with the twins — Helaena’s voice broke through the lighthearted chaos as she called your name. “Pray tell, how old were you when you came to court?”

Your lips pursed gently as you recounted, your tone tense but soft, “I was but six and ten years, my dear princess.”

An oblivious smile spread across Helaena's face, illuminating her features. “And yet you appear unchanged, as if untouched by time’s passage. Like a Lepidoptera,” she remarked, her imagination weaving images as vivid as the embroidered fabrics around her.

Your brows knitted in puzzlement. "A what, my princess?"

"A Lepidoptera," she patiently repeated, her eyes shimmering with youthful curiosity. "It is a classification that encompasses butterflies, which remain breathtakingly lovely until the end of their days."

A bittersweet pang echoed within you at her words, for you were destined for a far different fate, cursed to wander the shadows as a creature of the night. Yet, you offered a slight nod, managing a soft, "Thank you, my princess," as you absorbed the weight of her innocent compliment.

“And yet, I cannot claim to have missed you as intensely as Aemond has,” Helaena mused, her gaze distant as you idly threaded your fingers through Jaehaera's shimmering locks of silver.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you mean,” you replied softly, masking your understanding with a facade of innocence.

“I believe you are quite aware,” Helaena said softly, a melodic note in her voice, her smile lingering with a teasing warmth, “Aemond has loved you since he was a mere boy.”

You cast her a sidelong glance before adopting an air of nonchalance. “Love is a weighty term for one so young, Princess. Surely, it was nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”

Helaena shook her head, her needlework a steady rhythm in her hands. “No, I do not believe so.”

Deep down, you didn't believe so either. Ever since your return to the depressive halls of King's Landing, a sensation had accompanied your every step—a watchful gaze lingering upon you. Aemond had worked to keep it hidden, but your heightened senses revealed the quiet intensity of his interest, as vivid as the summer sun.

There had been numerous revelations awaiting you upon your return to the Red Keep—the prideful births of young Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, the scandal of Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon's elopement, and the grim decline of King Viserys's health, shadows stained upon the Iron Throne. Yet, the most haunting transformation was that of Prince Aemond.

Aegon had blossomed into the drunken sleaze you had always anticipated, a replica of the whims that dictated his every choice, but Aemond—oh, how he was the exact opposite of what you had envisioned. The youthful boy, once soft and unassuming, had unfurled into a striking figure, sharpened like the blade of a Targaryen sword, each line of his form etched with the harshness of time and expectation. His stature now towered over you, his presence immense, a tempest contained within the boundaries of a man’s body.

He seemed to carry within him a quiet fury, a storm beneath the surface, and it stirred something deep within you, a memory of that boy who had once been desperate for approval and had hope for a dragon. His boyish softness had been replaced by the resolute presence of a true dragon, a stark reminder of the power and peril that resided within his bloodline.