Summary: When you are left unconscious in the hospital after a mission, Rick must come to terms with his feelings before it is too late.
Word Count: 667
TW: Unconscious Reader, Hospital, Love Confession
Rick hesitated just outside your hospital room, part of him still too scared to go in. Through the window, he could see the bandages wrapped around a large percentage of your body and all the wires connecting you to various machines. At least they had taken you off the ventilator, but he couldn’t allow himself to feel relieved about this small improvement. He hadn’t seen any of your doctors or nurses today, so he hadn’t been updated on your progress. But after two days in a coma, he guessed there wasn’t much to update him on.
He cautiously took one step into the room. Then another. He kept going one halting step at a time until he reached the chair placed next to your bed. Sinking down into it, he stared at your peaceful face for a few minutes.
Finally, he reached out a gently grasped one of your hands. “Hey, darlin’….How ya doing? Stupid question, I guess. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner, but it’s just…hard…seeing you like this. And I don’t even know if you can hear me.”
He began slowly running his thumb across your knuckles, mindful of the tubes and wires attached to your hand. “You saved everyone you know. Because of your distraction, I was able to get the rest of the team out. You’re a hero, and I think I might even be able to convince Waller to knock extra time off your sentence for this. But you have to get better, you have to wake up.” But you didn’t stir.
Suddenly, Rick felt a wave of anger surge through his body. He jumped to his feet and began pacing around the room, rubbing a hand furiously across the back of his neck. “God, you are so stubborn! Why couldn’t you listen to me just once! You could have been killed and it would have been my fault! I was supposed to protect you! I was supposed to be the one who took one for the team, not you. Never you.” But just as quickly as the anger had overtaken him, it vanished leaving only a dull ache in its place. Standing at the foot of your bed, he hung his head as he whispered, “Please, darlin’, just wake up. I can’t lose you. I….I love you.”
“………Do you really mean that?”
Rick’s head shot up at the rasping sound of your voice. Through a mask of pain and tiredness, your eyes twinkled brightly at him, a smile dancing on your lips.
He stumbled back from the bed in shock. “What the hell? But-I thought you..”
“I woke up a few hours ago. I was actually a little disappointed you weren’t here when I opened my eyes, but better late than never.” You chuckled hoarsely, but then your face grew more serious. “Did you really mean it? Do you– do you love me?”
Rick looked at the floor, jaw clenched and hands tightening into fists. As glad as he was you were awake, he had never planned on telling you how he felt. After June, he didn’t know if he could handle the rejection.
However, you just reached over and took his hand. “Because I love you. I have since the day you saved me from those guards, when you taught me how to protect myself. And that’s why I did what I did. You’ve saved me so many times, and I just thought this time I would repay the favor. Protect the man I love.”
“I appreciate it darlin’ but don’t ever do that again. But I did mean what I said. I can’t lose you and…. I love you.” He gently placed a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.
You beamed at him but then shook your head with a small chuckle. “I’m so happy to hear you say those words……. Except, this now means I owe Harley $50. Turns out you should never bet against a former psychiatrist about someone’s feelings toward you.”
a/n - "And with that the 2022 season comes to an end" ♡
Alright kiddos, I gave @flufftober a shot! This one will be my last fic this year. Have my favorite fluffy trope: idiots in love.
prompt - a sweet treat
fluff - 1000 words - warnings: argus!agent reader. gn!reader. mutual pining. food mention. pre-the suicide squad 2021. admittedly the author's size kink might be showing in this one a little bit what who said that
It’s been an entire season of missed chances, and Rick Flag is officially sick of it.
Between his time away on missions and your time away from base, it’s as if the universe is trying to keep him away but not this time.
When he hears word that you’re coming in today, he doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t want to risk a prison-wide lockdown or an emergency leave getting in the way.
Today’s the last week of the year— the last week you bake anything for the office— and Rick will be damned if you close up shop before he gets the chance to try something, anything you’ve made for all those morons who don’t even like you as much as he does.
He’s sick of hearing Harcourt and Economos' damn bragging.
Your cookies, your cupcakes, your oh-so-amazing fruit tarts with, quote: “The sweetest berries we’ve ever tried”.
Harcourt. Rick impatiently hits the open button to the elevator several times before it even stops. Harcourt doesn’t even like sweets. Somewhere in his gut Rick knows she’s just doing it to irk him. Knows that you’re his favorite comms operative and more.
The doors open with a soft chime as Rick steps out into the hallway.
He pauses before knocking. The smell of cinnamon and other spices he can’t name waft through the door of your small, Belle Reve issued living quarters— and suddenly Rick fucking Flag is nervous.
Did he really just leave Harcourt mid-sentence and march all the way across the facility to come see you?
Rick swallows thickly and blinks like he’s just realized where he is.
Quickly running his fingers through his sandy hair, Rick clears his throat and knocks before he steps away from the door.
You ask your unexpected guest to wait a minute before yanking it open. Rick’s eyes widen as much as yours do.
“Oh! Colonel,” You greet with just about as much confusion.
He’s seen you in plenty of different gear, but never an apron and a pair of mittens. You step aside and let Rick into your small space— Nothing much more than a kitchen and a double bed just beyond that.
He opens his mouth to speak when that smell of something absolutely divine hits him even harder than before.
“Something wrong, Flag?”
“No, I—” The colonel takes a large step inside and pauses. You’ve never seen the grown man look so sheepish. “I heard you were bringing something in today and I… well, it’s forward. But I figured, I always miss out. Thought I’d catch you before Waller drags me away.”
The tension in Rick’s shoulders eases as your face lights up. You offer him a small laugh before turning to open the oven.
“Well, you’re just in time.” You say. Rick watches you take a large tray of something out and follows you over to the counter where a towel is waiting.
You set the tray down atop it and Rick gets a good look at some of the biggest cinnamon rolls he’s ever seen.
“You made all that ‘n this little kitchen?”
You shrug shyly. That small smile plays on your lips— the one Rick can't help but stare at. “Had to go into town for some things, but yeah.”
Rick lets you guide his large frame over to the stool which serves as the only sitting place in the entire room. He looks a little funny there— about three times too big for such a small seat. His knee even bends with how long his legs easily reach the ground.
You make quick work of scooping one of the center rolls onto a plate, but it’s the next part that has Rick locked on you with wide hazel eyes again.
Dolloping a large spoonful of cream cheese frosting on top of the roll with precision, you smooth it out with the back until it looks like something out of a cookbook. And then you do it— You swipe a lick of the spoon, just a bit. Your pink tongue darts over your bottom lip to catch a bit of frosting and Rick Flag’s pulse skyrockets like it hasn’t in a long damn time.
You startle when Rick says your name a little too loud.
“Sorry,” He shifts in his seat. Trying again in a calmer tone, he searches for the words carefully. “I might’ve also come up here to, uh, ask you something, now that I think about it.”
You arch a brow.
An unfamiliar wave of hesitation washes over the man. Busying himself with the plate in front of him, he cuts off a piece of the roll with his fork and shoves it into his mouth.
“I was hopin’— Well, I was wonderin’— Christ, this is good.” He chokes out gruffly behind his fist.
Quietly, you place the spoon in your hand into the sink and take your time as Rick chews. When he’s finally through his first bite, you place your elbows on the counter and lean in so close Rick has to inch back. It’s a funny image. Like a fawn spooking a big bear.
“Richard, I’ve made something every week for the past three months in the hopes that at least my baking would catch your attention. And every week, something gets in the way. So I really, really hope your question is ‘Will you go out to dinner with me,’ or else I may just have to tie you up and make dinner for you right here instead.”
He blinks at you wordlessly several times. An eon seems to pass as your little bit of bravado fades. Did you really just hit on your superior? On Colonel Flag? You really just went and did it now, didn't you?
You shrink when he finally leans in to meet you, but where you expect more of that stunned look, you find a spark of heat instead.
“Alright...How about I do you one better and make something for you, huh? How about tonight?”
You arch a brow at him, shocked. “You cook?”
“I grill.” He clarifies with a lopsided smile. “Don’t tell no one, but some of the other boys keep one over by the hangar. For when we get sick’a the mess hall food.”
With that hint of sugar and spice still on his tongue and the look in your eyes as he stands back up to his full height, Rick lets the doubt from earlier roll off him.
‘I’ve made something every week for the past three months…’ For him.
Rick reaches up to grasp your chin between his calloused fingers gently.
“Let me do all the cookin’ for you this time, darling,” A smirk forms when he notices the flush creep up your face. “And if you feel like it, y'can still tie me up after if you want to.”
thank you for my first request baby 💗💗 i’m so sorry it took me so long to finish!
“i’m just saying! think about it!” you giggle, hanging off of the couch in steve’s basement. he’s sitting on the floor in front of you, with confusion plastered on his face. “wha- huh?” he squints, shaking his head. “eddie? and robin… our robin?” he asks, sitting up as he takes another hit.
“yes ‘our’ robin.. and absolutely! on his side, at least. i know she doesn’t have feelings for him, obviously, but.. he very much does for her..” you say with wide eyes. he stares at you with that same blank look. “n-no.. eddie likes you!” he exclaims. you sit up, furrowing your eyebrows.
“what the hell are you talking about?” you laugh, looking down at him. your faces are now about a foot apart and you notice his hooded eyes flicker down to your lips. “i’m talking about the massive crush he so obviously has on you..” he shrugs, looking back into your eyes. you shake your head and look away as he involuntarily leans forward slightly. “you’re making shit up harrington..” you scoff, brushing it away in disbelief. he rolls his eyes. “wow i didn’t realize you were so oblivious..” he mumbles.
you scoff again. “ok! i’ll bite. how do you know that he likes me so much?” you ask, genuinely curious, but not missing the way steve’s fingers mindlessly trace up and down your leg. “i can just tell by the way he looks at you… and he follows you around like a lost puppy like- all the time..” he explains, watching his own fingers make their ascent now. you lean forward, closer to him.
“that doesn’t mean he likes me..” you say softly. steve’s lidded eyes meet yours and you just stare at each other for a minute. “just believe me.. i can tell.” he shrugs, when he finally breaks your eye contact.
he passes you the blunt again and you take a hit. “well even if he does like me.. doesn’t matter. i like someone else..” you say nonchalantly, trying not to smirk when his eyes snap up to meet yours again. got him.
“wha- oh.” he says softly, his puppy eyes being a dead giveaway of his disappointment. you try to give him a minute to figure it out but his brain is way too cloudy to do so.
“you.. dingus..” you say, smiling and rolling your eyes. he still looks confused. “huh?” he breathes. you move even closer to him. “i like you, steve.” you whisper. his eyes widen as he processes what you had said. then his smile overtakes his face.
before you know it, you’re on top of him on the floor, as he pulls you off of the couch and into him. you try to catch yourself and make sure to place the joint on the table so you don’t accidentally start a fire in the midst of all of it.
he lays on his back and looks up at you with a stoned smile as your legs straddle his waist. “steve- wha-” “i like you too.. god-like so much..” he says softly, running his hands up and down your bare thighs. you giggle and lean down.
holding his face in your hands, you bump his nose with yours and lock eyes with him. “is that so?” you tease, shifting on his lap slightly.
he whimpers. he fucking whimpers.
“y-yes. f’so fucking long..” he admits, glancing down at your lips. you smile and finally close the gap between the two of you. he throws his arms around your waist instantly, pulling you closer to him as he kisses you back.
it’s not long before his tongue is in your mouth, slipping past your lips and passionately exploring every inch of it. you moan softly and move one of your hands into his hair. giving it a quick tug, you draw another moan out of him as he rolls the two of you over so that he’s on top of you.
after making out for what felt like hours, he pulls away slightly to breathe. “you’re so beautiful..” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your eyes. you smile and kiss his cheek a couple of times before kissing his lips again. “so are you, stevie..” you breathe, making him blush as he starts to leave kisses along your jaw.
you shut your eyes and exhale shakily as his lips make their way down your throat. he sucks lightly here and there, making you moan softly.
“fuck.. that feels so good-” you gasp, feeling him smirk against your collarbone. “yeah?” he mumbles, nipping at your neck again.
you wrap your legs around him from underneath him and bite your lip. god, this man is going to be the death of you….
Summary: There’s nothing wrong with a little curiosity right? So what if you just wanted to know what EXACTLY your neighbor was up to every night during the witching hour, that totally isn’t weird.
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Mention of blood, MoonKnight Ep.1 Spoilers (if you squint)
A/N: This is written with little to no prior knowledge about Moon Knight/Marc Spector/Steven Grant other than what was shown in the first episode. I wanted to dabble in writing for him, so this is could definitely expand into something more but as of right now it is just a fun analysis basically.
———————–
You were always that person, ever since you were a little kid, to remind everyone of the full rhyme.
Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
You had a knack for noticing and looking for any and all details when it came to anything you found interesting. Your mind couldn’t put down the puzzle until you knew everything you could about it, preferably to the point of solving said puzzle of course.
Which led you to your fascination with your neighbor.
The consensus on your floor was that he was an odd guy. Not only because he seemingly kept to himself, keeping his head down and only giving passing glances but more so because of the so called sketchy vibes he “gave off”. Everyone else described him as odd, weird, and someone to steer clear off. Many of them had either no interaction with him or ones they would rather forget late in the night.
You would describe him as interesting, but maybe that was because of the oh so watchful eye you had.
The first time you were drawn to him genuinely through your own experience and not through word of mouth from judgey neighbors, you were lucky enough to have the night shift at the diner you worked at. Well not so much a night shift but a graveyard shift, leading you to get home at around four or five am.
It was an odd time to get home, many people on the midnight bus were nurses or tired diner workers like yourself. There were a few people that seemingly were just getting finished with their pub crawls, as when the bus doors opened the stench of their alcohol content leaked off them and tainted the sweet dewy smell of the night you had gotten used to. Leaning your head against the condensated window with a huff, you watch the streetlights wiz by and listen to the steady breathing of those around it. It was a calm night from what you remember, nothing out of the ordinary.
I’ve seen a few of these and I noticed that my favourite one didn’t have Stefan in it so I took it upon myself to make a new (improved if I might add) one😊
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
blakekathryn
prguitarman
pixelskylines
vaporwave
