#we need real life smooches!

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I love Yai so much.

He's so protective & loyal. I really want to know who he was in the past life, because they implied all the friends are connected! Has he always been Tharn's loyal friend?

Also Phaya hitting Tharn was such a dick move. But it does seem like his anger might be beyond normal - I forget who theorized that Chalothon might have had some sort of supernatural effect on him? But it seems very plausible. It's an effective way to keep them apart.

Damn, I just love the way they stage shots in this show.

Ha, I knew it! They never show someone that much in the background unless it's for setup.

Also I love that when Tharn said his name, Phaya popped his head around to look at him all "wtf?".

Ok, I know he's a killer, but also - hot damn.

Gotta say, as much as I don't love cops as protagonists these days, I like that the show is calling out that cops can easily be criminals, and the justice system is fucked.

Whoa...possession?

Ok, so now I'm wondering if he was killing because something out there fed his anger to the extreme...kinda like what happened to Phaya, but over a longer time.

Omg! The look of horror! This is sooooo Chalothon y'all!!!

The feeeeeels.

I am weak.

Ugh. This guy is annoying me.

Keep questioning the system boys!

So the cop/hero stuff is blech, but I do find the parallel they're setting up here interesting.

Tharn, baby? Did you forget about all the people saying you've done wrong in your past life?

Lol, not Phaya prepping to make a move!

Either a whole lot of lights appeared out of nowhere or this is another fantasy sequence.

GODDAMMIT.

Look, I do appreciate we're getting some nice spicy moments to tide us over until they hook up in real life, but also - we need some real life smooches!!!

Ha, Tharn is a realist. I always think the same thing with wound-blowing scenes!

Gonna have to bring your fantasies to life some other way Phaya!

Oh damn!

Love what Heng is doing with his jaw, it's so suggestive of a snake about to unhinge.

Check the bingo card, obligatory sponge bath!

Lol, Phaya's "is this really happening or is this another horny daydream?" face.

Sibling relationships are so relatable, no matter what culture you're from.

OH DAMN!!

I still have no idea what's happening here, but I love it all the same.

[floral-hex]

blegh

[cupidkenji]

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises. 

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint. 

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?” 

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.” 

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up. 

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?” 

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new. 

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick. 

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

– 

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you. 

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up. 

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision. 

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

– 

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him. 

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day. 

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up. 

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it. 

“I can watch him.” 

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you. 

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day. 

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.” 

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless. 

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from. 

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back. 

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.” 

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless. 

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between  friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

– 

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it. 

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks. 

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in. 

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine. 

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal. 

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you. 

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.” 

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure. 

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?” 

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.” 

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself.  You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road. 

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much. 

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm. 

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

[lackadaisycats]

I’m getting really curious on the whole seemingly complex situation that is Mitzi’s romantic relationships.

Cause like, we got Zib, we got Atlas, AND we got Wick!

As far as I’m understanding Zib and Mitzi was like a situationship?? Or maybe just an unofficial relationship from teens to early twenties?? Like they have history together!

But then Atlas comes in and Mitzi kinda leaves Zib for him? Like did she just lose feelings for Zib all together and now only sees him as a friend in the current timeline?

WHATS THE LOVE STORY THERE??

Was there a messy breakup type ordeal??

Then theres Wick! Who I’m unsure if Mitzi does or doesn’t have genuine feelings for!

Cause like, her husbands been dead for a year? And now she’s smooching around with Wick? I can’t tell if this is simply a tactic Mitzi’s using to keep Wick wrapped around her finger or not.

Not that she’s doing it out of malicious intent! It’s clear she feels guilty when she had to use Wick. All things will go into deeper shit if she doesn’t have Wick around! So maybe she’s playing his heart to keep him around because she is extremely dependent on him money wise?? Or does she have actual feelings too??

Girlie has three (or more) men smitten by her! But does she feel the same way in return? I’m pretty confident she did at least have real genuine feelings for Zib in the past! But did she actually love Atlas or was it a marriage of convenience? Or Wick! Is it only a tactic to keep him around as long as possible or has she also had some feelings for him that she’s now partially showing cause her husbands been dead for a year!

Her love life looks so complex! I feel like she needs a drink with how many men seem to be into her at the same time!

sorry for the slight rant and multiple questions 😭

It is indeed messy and complicated, but I can't think of many romantic relationships that don't have some chaos woven in. Even taking account of meaningful, non-romantic relationships in my own lifetime with friends or family, "It's complicated" is an apt descriptor. She and Zib had a past, yes. There were definitely feelings involved, but the structure of the relationship was uncommitted and wishy-washy. Then some things happened that caught Zib by surprise. For indicators as to how Mitzi felt about Atlas, well, take into consideration that she still speaks to his portrait. You can maybe find some clues about the nature of their relationship in things that Zib and Mordecai say in Volume 2 of the comic. As for Wick, I hope it's clear there's at least some mutual attraction there. Mitzi's got her priorities, though, and Wick is actively trying to sort out exactly what his feelings are and where he draws a line in the course of the comic. Really, details are meant to unfold gradually in the story to paint a fuller picture of the past. Things you surmise about it and conclusions you draw (even if they don't ultimately line up with canon) are likely to be far more interesting than whatever dry explanations I could provide here, though.

[breathinlove]

gf!ellie headcanons

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is your girlfriend, modern au.

cw: ig ellie grabs boobs?? sfw tho. basic fluff, ellie is just silly, puppy love again, mention of dealer!ellie, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not proofread (it's never proofread tbh!).

gf!ellie who pokes your inner cheek with her tongue when you kiss or blows in your mouth "elliuhhhh" ands she's definitely gonna chuckle like "heheh"... she's SOOO SILLY.

gf!ellie who doesn't ever just invite you over, she has to make an excuse, something about how you do her hair better or how she needs skin care.

gf!ellie who doesn't have any stream apps like netflix or prime, she's a piracy master from practice (getting several viruses on joel's old computer).

gf!ellie who watches and listens to anything you like because she loves you but you can see it in her pained face that she's bored, but she'll sit through it and lie "it's cool, babe".

gf!ellie who sends the most unfunny (hilarious) reels, you can hear her wheezing while she's in the bathroom.

gf!ellie who, still talking about her bathroom texts, lets you know like fr "the hardest shit of my life istg that was a rock?" and you will laugh and buy her plums to help your constipated baby.

gf!ellie who has the most fun with you, sleeping at ellies is just like having a girls night sleepover.

gf!ellie who will skin care with you and watch youtube (shes a youtube kid)

"pooks can we watch this streamer now?" she points at the screen, while you untangle her stupid hair. "careful yeah?" she hisses when you catch a knot and you kiss her scalp "yes im sorry my love". and she'll look back at you to give you the sweetest cutest smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

gf!ellie who is a weed dealer but is also a homebody. so goes to them parties just to deal "just business babe" like she's going to the office or sum.

gf!ellie with whom everyone knew you were dating before you two even admited you had crushed on eachother. she'd protest to your friends "no... like, we're real good friends" as she blushed and you giggled 'yeah's.

gf!ellie who has cold ass hands and they're always inside your shirt when you're cuddling

"babeeeee let me warm up" trying to shove her feet inside your pants??? when the laughter dies, her hand that's up your shirt WILL find your tits.

gf!ellie who takes pictures of you when you're asleep, not to tease you or anything, she just thinks you're cute.

gf!ellie who only drives when she absolutely has to... but she's always there to drive you anywhere you need.

gf!ellie who goes "aww you're so preeeetty" out of nowhere and gives you a smooch on your face.

a/n: i need a gf yall, send applications please ❤️

[sailorrhansol]

ok ok requesting a treat for all of us, honestly

sleep demon seungcheol. extra sprinkling of nasty if possible. i want you to out-zaddy you know who.

>:) ok smooch smooch have fun!!!! I LOVE HALIWEEEEEN

❀ Pairing: Incubus!Choi Seungcheol x afab reader

❀ Summary: You can’t seem to sleep, but the strange man in the bar that you can’t visiting promises he can help. 

❀ Word Count: 6,239

❀ Genre: Supernatural

❀ Type: Smut, PWP

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Mentions of insomnia including side effects like exhaustion, dysfunction, derealization, feeling out of it/in weird headspaces, time is not supposed to feel linear in this and it’s supposed to feel kind of liminal-space in places, reader is often confused/thoughts are a little scattered and feels out of it because of proximity to an entity, there are creepy vibes in this, Seungcheol doesn’t always appear the same/mentions of feeling like in danger or on edge around him instinctually, explicit language, sexually explicit content including unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, a lot of spit and cum, nipple play, reference to subspace or an adjacent, choking, oral (f. and m. receiving) multiple orgasms, biting and scratching, I wouldn’t categorize this as explicit dom/sub dynamics but there are power dynamics in some places, mean Seungcheol in spots, like very light humiliation if you squint in one section, overall just…. Weird ass vibes and reccouring scenes/reader not remembering things. 

❀ A/N: Hi Jolene Wolene Folene - thank you for requesting this thing that we totally didn’t talk about before I started Haliween and definitely maybe sort of giving me the outlet to write this weird little liminal space demon that I love doing so dearly. Pls enjoy spooky ooky kooky Cheol and his weird little obsession with reader :) 

❀ A/N 2: This fic is a part of my Haliween writing event that I’m hosting September - October. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

Nothing feels real. Your eyes burn as you stare at the computer screen, the letters and the buttons on your email becoming blurry as they swim out of focus. The dull sounds of your office feel as though they’re several rooms over, faint hums heard through walls of plaster. 

Pushing away from the desk, you head to the break room, in desperate need of coffee. You know drinking caffeine this late in the afternoon will only further exacerbate your insomnia, and yet you need it if you’re going to get through the next three hours at work.

You’ve hit the point in your endless nights of no sleep where everything feels off, like you’re experiencing things in the third person. You’re there but you don’t feel like it, navigating your day knowing that it’s you doing and saying things at work without really registering that you’re doing or saying those things. 

Coffee hisses from the machine into your cup. You stare at it, vision going unfocused again as the smell wafts up to you. Time passes. You stand and stare. 

Someone walks into the room, bringing you back to reality as you look over your shoulder and see your coworker come in to fill up their water bottle. They raise their brows at you as though to ask if you’re okay, and you grin, gesturing to the coffee like that’s some sort of answer.

Really, you’re not okay. You have ventured past the threshold of tired into something else entirely. Something that is lesser than, something base and nearly inhuman. 

Derealization. It’s a word your doctor had used when you described what it was like for you after so many nights without sleep, the disconnected feeling to the world around you. Even as you walk to your desk, it doesn’t feel real. You logically know that it is, that you exist in a specific time and space.

And yet… you remain buoyed in that space, totally untethered from everything around you. Floating. Lost. 

Back at your desk, the words on the computer screen blur again. Come into focus. You type and email. The keyboard makes sounds, but you don’t really register them. 

At some point, the day ends. 

-

A bright neon sign burns against the darkness of the alleyway. You blink rapidly, holding your hand in front of your eyes to block out some of the light. Looking around, you don’t see anyone else. The sound of the city is muted and far away, but you smell the burning of fuel and the smell of stagnant water under a dripping window air conditioning unit. 

You don’t remember walking here. You lower your hand as your eyes adjust to the burning pink above the door. Looking down at your clothes, you’re at least relieved to discover you put on jeans and a t-shirt before going out on an adventure out on the town.

Police sirens wail in the distance. You pull your phone out of your back pocket, thankful you brought it. 

“Fuck,” you swear, flashing the time. It’s 3:33 in the morning and you know immediately you’ve sleepwalked your way to this strange, unfamiliar alleyway. 

It’s a vicious circle: go days without sleep feeling like you’re a step away from death, or take just enough sleep medication to knock you out but make you sleepwalk. 

Shoving your phone in your pocket, you look back up at the neon sign, reading it for the first time. Hush. A shiver goes down your spine at the name, eyes flicking to the blue crescent moon attached to the pink cursive. 

There’s a magnetism about the sign. Your eyes dropdown to the door under it, a nondescript metal entrance to what you think is a bar. There’s nothing to indicate that it is a bar, just a gut feeling. Your gut feeling is also whispering at you to go inside, to open the door and step into the cool space of Hush. 

Licking your lips, you take one hesitant step forward. The tingling in your spine increases and you feel static in the air. Heart racing, you take another step. Then another. Before you realize it, you’re at the door with your hand on the knob, cool to the touch.

With a deep breath, you pull the door open and step inside. 

It’s even darker inside than the alleyway. Gentle piano music plays somewhere in the room and you swivel left and right, trying to gain your bearings as your eyes adjust. When they do, you see a very small room with a single piano in the corner, two booths, a bar at the back, and three stools pulled up to its counter.

A single person sits at the bar. You hesitate in the entrance, drinking in the stranger. It appears to be a man in a dark purple suit, his broad shoulders hunched over where he leans against the wooden bar top. You can’t make out much else beyond the wide shape of his shoulders and narrow taper of his waist, but you can see the crimson hair that glows like flame underneath the dull, flickering light above his head.

“You gonna stand there all night?” His voice is soft, a gentle pur. He turns his head to the side, his profile shadowed. “I don’t bite.” You hear the smirk in his voice when he tacks on, “Not often, anyway.” 

Carefully, you approach the bar. There doesn’t appear to be a bartender of any sort or anyone else in the bar, for that matter. You realize that there’s piano music but no pianist, but decide not to focus on it as you enter the man’s line of focus. 

When he looks at you, the world stops. It’s like stepping into a bubble, everything else ceasing to exist. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end and you feel your pulse hammer in your throat as you stare at him, unable to take your eyes off him.

He’s beautiful but it’s not that. His eyes are dark, but there is something more there. Something swimming in the depth of the darkness that you cannot place, something ancient and curious and awake. You feel pinned under his gaze, eyes darting to drink in the rest of his features: soft, pouty lips the color of berries, sharp jawline, thick, angular brows. 

Stunning. Dangerous. Alluring. 

“Hi,” he says, mouth stretching into a grin. His teeth aren’t sharp, but you have the distinct feeling that they should be. “You’re a pretty thing.” 

“Um, hi.”

“Can’t sleep?” 

“How can you tell?”

His grin spreads, wicked and cutting. “I have a feeling about those things.” His dark eyes drop to the seat next to him. “Have a seat. Maybe I can help.”

Tentatively, you sit down next to him. “You can help me sleep?” 

“What if I said I can?” 

Sitting next to him is oppressive. His presence weighs down on you, a physical entity that you can’t see. Static buzzes in your mind and your thoughts feel a little sticky, like just being close to him disrupts your frequency. 

He smells like jasmine, immediately soothing. You feel your eyes grow heavy as you blink a few times, settling on the stool as you angle yourself toward him. 

You’d misjudged his size when you walked in. He’d seemed broad when you first walked in, but you don’t think you fully understood the width of him. The weight of him. Or maybe it just feels that way when you look at him, your perception of him flickering like a bad TV signal. 

“Tell me about your sleep problems.”

You shrug. “They’re like any other sleep problems.”

“Not all sleep problems are the same, Pretty.” 

“I suppose that’s true. I don’t really know what causes them. I just… can’t fall asleep and then I start getting worried I won’t sleep, so it makes it worse. I want to sleep so bad but it’s like… wanting to sleep only makes it avoid me more.”

“Mmm. Sleep is a fickle thing, isn’t it?” 

“My doctors give me meds but the normal dose doesn’t work and the stronger dose… makes me walk around.” 

He pouts. “You poor, sweet thing.” 

Something about his sympathy makes you flush. You sulk, looking down at the countertop as you pick absently at the peeling varnish on the wood. “I know,” you murmur. “I just want to be normal.” 

“I can help. If you want it.” 

You glance at him. His eyes are dancing dangerously. Half of you screams yes while the other screams run. You’re only vaguely aware that you’re in a bar alone with a strange man who knows you’re sleep deprived. No one would help you if you screamed. You don’t know where you would run.

His dark eyes seem to read your thoughts and he laughs, shaking his head as he turns to pick up his drink from the bar. “I’m not that sort of creature.”

“How would you help me sleep?”

“Are you accepting my help?”

His question hangs in the air between the two of you. The piano music has stopped, but you don’t remember when it did. Overhead, the light still flickers. On. Off. On. Off. Onoffonoffonoff-

“You’re under no obligation to accept.” His voice is kind. Warm. Soft like your blankets, cozy like your bed. “You’re always free to make your own decision.” 

“I want help,” you agree slowly. “I really do.”

His red mouth curves into a smile and again, you’re struck by the thought that his teeth should be sharp. “Good. I’ll help you, Pretty.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“You can call me Seungcheol.” You give him your name and he tilts his head, drinking you in. “I know.” 

“How are you going to help me sleep?”

Seungcheol finishes his drink. You watch him swallow thickly, suddenly fascinated with the way his throat bobs as he does. The smell of jasmine is overwhelming as he leans in, stopping an inch away from you.

The static increases. You feel your blood buzz pleasantly. 

“Close your eyes for me,” Seungcheol murmurs, looking at you through silky lashes. “I promise everything will be okay.” 

For a moment, you stare at him, the air charged. He doesn’t hurry you along, content to study your face with that same uncanny darkness swimming in his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath, you do what Seungcheol says, and you close your eyes. 

-

Sunlight wakes you up. You roll over in your bed, squinting up at the window. Your blackout curtains are open, letting the morning beam in on where you’re tangled in your comforter and sheets. 

Sighing heavily, you close your eyes again, content to lay in the warm sun. Just as you start to drift to sleep again, you recall a pair of dark eyes and fiery hair. You jolt upright, heart hammering as you remember the exchange. 

Snatching your phone from your nightstand, you open your walking app to look at where the hell you went last night, but there’s nothing there. Frowning, you pull the sheets off your body. You’re in pajamas and fuzzy socks that you don’t remember putting on. 

Hauling yourself out of bed, you lean halfway into the laundry basket to claw through your clothing. None of the things you wore last night are there, so you go to your closet to wrench the doors open and search. 

The shirt from last night and the exact pair of jeans are hanging, completely unworn. Your frown deepens as your confusion rises. Turning away from the closet, you open your phone again and try to get any sort of sense of where you went last night, but there’s no text threads. No signs you used public transportation. Nothing in any of your tracking apps that indicate you left at all. 

“Was it a fucking dream?” you mutter to yourself, perplexed. 

Sitting down on your bed, you try to look up Hush on the internet. You can find nothing in your city that indicates a bar or establishment like the one you discovered Seungcheol in. You even try social media to look him up - Reddit, neighborhood pages, anything to try and find the stranger from last night.

It seems Hush and Seungcheol don’t exist.

And yet… you don’t remember going to sleep last night after he agreed to help you. And you feel rested today. 

Puzzled and a little freaked out, you give up your search. A dream is a dream, and you’re content that you finally feel a little less exhausted and a little more awake. You’ll take the win, getting up to start your day with a little bit of pep in your step. 

By midday, you’ve mostly forgotten about the bar and the man in it, only remembering those dark eyes and that red hair. 

-

Heat creeps up your spine. You nuzzle against the warmth behind you, the smell of jasmine coaxing you deeper into the embrace. You feel the vibration of laughter against your back, your nerves tingling as you feel feather-light fingers brush up your thighs. 

“Tired?” 

Immediately you know it’s Seungcheol’s deep voice, that same velvet purr whispered right in your ear. You shake your head no, suddenly not wanting to sleep at all. You press into him further, feeling the way his arms tighten around you as he chuckles, mouth pressing chastely against the spot under your ear. 

“Liar,” he teases. 

You pout. It might be true, but he could have the decency to pretend it’s not. You open your eyes and look up at him. His hair is like spilled blood in the dark of your room. The curtains are closed, blocking out all light from the moon and street, but your salt lamp still burns in the corner. 

Seungcheol looks like the devil in the low, orange light. He’s in a black t-shirt, which is somehow more deadly than the fine cut suit. Your stomach flutters and you squeeze your thighs shut when you realize his hands are brushing up and down your thighs, touch slow. 

“Thought you were a dream,” you mumble, words a little thick. “Thought you weren’t real.”

“Dreams can’t be real?” That makes you frown and he laughs, jostling you against his chest. His hands squeeze your thighs and you let out a breathy sound as he nudges you with his nose. “You don’t know anything about dreams, Pretty. Can I show you?” 

More than anything you want him to show you. Suddenly your desire for him outweighs any sort of sleepiness, your nerves sparking and coming to life as you nod helplessly against his chest, trying to lean as close as possible. 

“Needy,” he chides. He presses a wet kiss to your jawline and you preen, your head falling back against his shoulder. “I’ll go easy so you remember this time, alright?” 

“Cheol.” 

The nickname sounds familiar. Intimate. Like you’ve said it before - something tells you that you have said it before. You don’t remember where or when, but it’s with familiarity that you moan the nickname again as he nips at your neck, one hand drifting between your legs to pry them open. 

He murmurs praise against your ear when your legs drift apart, spreading to accommodate his seeking touch. You’re wearing shorts but it feels entirely too hot under the blankets pooled around your waist. You kick at them and whine, managing to get them down to your knees before he huffs and presses forward, temporarily bending you in half to toss them. 

When he settles back against your headboard, you follow him, turning your head to press your mouth to the corner of his. His lips twitch in a smirk, shifting to catch your mouth fully with his. 

Seungcheol kisses you like he knows how you like to be kissed - devouring, consuming, hungry. His tongue brushes against yours as he drinks you in as his hand presses between your leagues, applying pressure to your clothed cunt.

You whine into the kiss and he grins against your mouth. A line of spit connects your lips when you pull away panting, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. His fingers circle your clit gently and your hips buck in his hold against the stimulation. 

“Not enough,” you whisper. You grip his wrist with one hand, the other gripping the sheets to bunch them in your fist. “Cheol, please.”

“Hush,” he scolds, biting your jaw. His free hand comes up to your neck, gripping you under your jaw to angle your mouth back to his. “Kiss me.” 

You melt in Seungcheol’s grip. His tongue tastes sweet, his grip on you making you dizzy. Your thighs squeeze around his wrist as he works you up, his touch teasing and not enough through layers of fabric. 

He knows it’s not enough, content to string you along until you’re writhing against him, back shifting against his chest as you squirm. His kisses drift from your mouth to your jaw, open-mouthed and spit-slicked as his tongue darts out to taste your skin while he goes. 

Seungheol’s grip on your chin slides down toward the base of your neck, his fingers pressed tight against your pulse. You can feel your heartbeat slamming in his grasp as he bends your head away from him, lips attaching to the softness of your throat. 

His name escapes your lips in a whisper. He hums a pleased sound, tongue dragging up your neck to your ear where he nibbles. “So good for me,” he whispers. “I’ll reward you.” 

You follow with an urgent nod, pleased when his hand slides down the waistband of your shorts and underwear. When his fingers brush against the flushed, sticky folds of your cunt, you keen loudly, unable to keep it together.

“So needy.” You can’t tell if it’s an insult or not the way he growls the word against your ear, grip on your throat tightening. “Need my help that bad, huh?” 

“Yes, god.”

“I am not god,” he grinds out, voice dark. For a second, the illusion shatters and you glance up at him. His eyes are endless, an ancient thing looking back at you. You freeze in his hold, a prey caught in a trap. Then he softens, pressing a kiss to your brow. “Tell me what you need, Pretty.” 

“Hands. Need your hands.” 

A bolt of pleasure goes through you when Seungcheol’s middle finger circles your clit. Your nails dig into his wrist, leaving little crescent moons behind. His ministrations are leisurely, giving you what you want but not as fast as you want it. 

That’s Seungcheol’s game. He’ll give you what you want, only when he feels like it. You feel a sense of deja vu, realizing that you’ve been here before. Snatches of memories flash through your mind. They pass through your grip like sand, none of them firm enough to grab onto. 

“Missed you,” you mumble. “Can’t sleep without you.”

“Ah, there it is.” 

Seungcheol is pleased with your recollection. You can tell when he relents his teasing touches, fingers drifting down to press a single digit into your heat. Your stomach flips when he does, relief sweeping through you as he shallowly fucks you with a single finger.

It’s not enough but it’s better. You shiver in his hold, going a little slack in his arms, hips twitching. He’s content to have you like this, working your cunt slowly, watching your reactions as your breathing catches and restarts. 

“Feel good?” 

“So good.” You can barely get the reply out, words faint. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Pretty.” 

His kiss is soft against your cheekbone, at odds with the grip he still has on your throat. You feel his hand like a comforting weight, loving the feel of it resting against your pulse. He doesn’t squeeze or choke you, content just to hold you against him. 

Seungcheol pulls his fingers out, the wet squelch obscene. “Take this shit off for me,” he tells you, pulling at your shorts. 

His heavy hand rests on your collarbone as your hands shoot to your shorts. Hooking your thumbs in them, you shimmy down, lifting your hips with his help to kick them down your thighs and legs to the floor. 

Cool air hits your heat as you settle against his chest again. He nestles against your neck, fingers resuming the task of peeling you apart as he sinks his pointer and ring finger into you. You clench around him, loving the stretch and the feeling of his fingers pressing against your g-spot as he slowly strokes you, breath hot against your ear. 

Being unable to remember your previous encounter with him feels cruel. Seungcheol knows exactly how to work you toward your high. The slick sound of his fingers between your legs accompanied with his lips pressed against your neck drives you insane. 

Unable to keep still, your hips come up off the bed to meet his hand. The hand not fucking you to insanity slides under your shirt. Heat trails his touch. He traces the curve of your breast and your breath stutters, catching in your throat. His nails scrape against sensitive skin, moving higher until he drags his touch over your nipple. 

The heel of Seungcheol’s hand presses firmly into your clit. You mewl, thrashing against him, closer and closer to your peak. His strokes turn harsh, finger-fucking you at a brutal pace while his other hand tweaks your nipple, the pleasure-sting making you quake. 

“Come on,” he urges, voice deep. Sharp teeth scrape against your throat. “Come for me, Pretty.” 

Everything turns to static as you clench around his fingers. You squeeze so tight he can barely continue stroking you through your peak. There’s a high-pitched ring in your ears as you pant through it, vaguely aware that Seungcheol is muttering something against your ear that you don’t understand. 

As your orgasm fades, so do you. The world becomes soft at the edges. You feel Seungcheol’s heartbeat against your back and smell jasmine, but you slowly drift away from him, barely able to catch his growl of remember me next time before you’re gone. 

-

Cold granite countertop digs into your knees. You barely register the pain, one hand pressed flat to the counter, the other reaching behind you to tangle in Seungcheol’s hair. Your hot breath skates across the surface, the cool stone not enough to combat the heat of your skin. 

Seungcheol’s face is pressed as far as he can go into your cunt, the flat of his tongue dragging from top to bottom. You’re nearly catatonic, eyes rolling behind your eyelids as he fucks you with his tongue. 

He grunts when your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close as he sucks harshly at you. He’s loud as he eats you out, his hunger something more demonic and fiendish than you’re used to. You don’t care, pressing back into him as he mouths at you. 

His hands firmly pry you open, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. You can feel the bruising way he holds you, uncaring as he works you toward another high, so desperate for it that you’re begging. 

Begging for what, you don’t know. None of the words that fall from your mouth really make sense. You’re a rambling disaster under the mastery of his mouth, and as you tiptoe the line of your high, it feels like you’ll never unscramble your thoughts again.

You come again, feeling the way you flood his mouth. He doesn’t care, growling low in his throat as his mouth becomes more insistent, fingers pressing into you even harder. Something takes over him in that moment, his grip on you so fierce that you think you might break.

But you don’t. You never do. 

-

“Pretty,” Seungcheol murmurs, cocking his head to the side. Your mouth aches where it’s stretched harshly around his cock, spit leaking from the side of your lips. His thumb brushes across the spilled fluid, grinning as he leisurely pops it into his mouth and sucks. “Such a pretty thing, mouth full of cock.”

You hum around him eagerly, shifting back and forth on your knees. He’s got you on the floor of your bedroom in front of your bed, hands linked obediently behind your back while he stands in front of you. His stomach ripples as he flexes his hips forward, driving himself deeper into your mouth.

Your throat seizes around him again and you feel yourself gag. He pouts and pulls back, letting you gasp for breath. Your mouth is a mess of saliva and cum, wet and sore and battered. You don’t care, looking up at him with watery eyes and sticky lips.

“So important to me,” he whispers, nodding as though to assure you. Your stomach flips and you shuffle toward him eagerly, mouth open. “So perfect for me.” 

Instead of using words, you stick your tongue out, eager. Seungcheol grins and the room darkens. There is a buzz in the back of your mind that you can’t place, ignoring the feeling in favor of watching him slowly slide back in, letting your tongue scrape the bottom of his shaft.

Seungcheol sighs, tilting his head back as he sets a slow pace, using your mouth as he pleases. He’s beautiful like this, all tan skin, heaving chest, sweat sliding down his neck, red hair damp. His eyes are closed but his mouth is open, cherry lips parted sweetly to show his sharp little fangs as he pants. 

So pretty, you think. Even with teeth sharper than they should be.  

-

You’re standing in front of a bar named Hush. The pink neon burns bright against the gritty night, hurting your eyes. Turning around in a circle, you notice there’s no one else in the alleyway. There’s a certain charge to the air, a hum that you can’t place, but grows stronger when you turn to face the bar again. 

A single door sits under the sign, closed and waiting to be opened. Chewing your bottom lip, you stride toward the door, unsure what’s waiting for you on the other side. 

With a hard yank, you pull the door open and step into the darkness of the room beyond. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the single, flickering light over the bar, but once they do, you see it’s a tiny room. A single piano sits in the corner near two booths, and there’s only one bar top in the back, a few stools in front of it. 

A single man sits at the bar but he’s facing you, leaning back on his elbows as he drinks you in. He’s in a purple suit that would look ridiculous on anyone else, and his red hair is bright enough to light the night like a flame. 

He cocks his head to the side, a wicked smirk on his lips. “Hi,” he greets. “Can’t sleep?”

“How can you tell?” 

“I’m familiar with these things.” 

He looks like a devil. You can’t place your finger on what exactly about his face makes you think so. His eyes are dark as the depths of the ocean and when he smiles, you swear his teeth are sharp. “Need some help?” 

You do need help sleeping. The doctors can’t help you. Therapy doesn’t help you. Something tells you maybe this stranger can help you. 

“Please.”

“It would be my pleasure, Pretty.” 

-

“Seungcheol,” you gasp, hand flying to his wrist to grip him. “Fuck, holy shit.” 

Fuck is absolutely right. His hand tightens around your throat, placed just right to make it harder for you to breathe. Your thoughts swim as he fucks into you, his sweaty chest sliding against your back as his strokes grow harsher. 

Your knees slide on the bed under the strength of his thrusts. He growls at you to keep up and you whimper, flexing your thighs to remain upright as he drives his cock into you at a pace that sends you hurtling toward your peak. 

“So fucking difficult,” he grunts in your ear. His teeth nip your ear lobe and you whine, intoxicated by the smell of jasmine and the tightening knot in your stomach. “You’re always so difficult.” 

You don’t know what he means by that, but you don’t think it’s the first time you’ve heard something like that from him. Your thoughts turn to liquid you come around him though, feeling the way you grip his cock like a vice, seizing in his hold.

Everything turns to nothing. You can’t hear, see or feel anything but static. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.

And then you're gasping for air, lungs burning as you gulp it down. Falling forward, you crash into the sheets and into complete darkness. 

-

“Why do you come and go so often?” 

Seungcheol lifts his head from the bed to turn and look at you. He’s still naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, crimson hair clinging to his forehead. He’s on his stomach laying opposite of you, his head by your feet. 

Something sparks in his eyes at your question, his heavy brows pulling together, cherry lips downturning. “I only come as often as you let me.” 

“What do you mean?”

His face twitches in what you think might be annoyance. “You have a complicated relationship with me.” 

“We have a relationship?” 

He snorts and turns away from you, resting his chin on his arms as he settles back down, closing his eyes. He reminds you of a cat - a particularly dangerous cat, you think. “I suppose. Most people couldn’t say they have a relationship with me, and yet I keep letting you invite me back.”

“Invite you?” 

“Hush. Stop asking questions.” 

“But I don’t… understand.” 

“Good,” he quips. “Because every time you do, you send me away only to invite me back in.” 

-

“Come on,” Seungcheol teases. “You wanted it, so do the work.” 

Your thighs ache. A pitiful sound leaves you as you nod, putting your hands on Seungcheol’s shoulders as you lift your hips, legs shaking. You’re exhausted and burned out, but the ache you need filled as you slowly slide up his cock drives you to keep going. 

Dropping back down in his lap, you feel sparks. Your movements are slow. Seungcheol’s hands are tucked behind his head where he leans back on your pillows, fathomless eyes watching you as you ride him, a little uncoordinated and weak from the exertion he’s put you through all evening.

“Cheol, my thighs,” you protest, instead trying to grind into him. He raises a brow and you pout. “Please.”

“No. Come on, Pretty, you can do it. You can fuck yourself on my cock and make yourself come. Come on.” 

“Cheol.”

“No. Do it yourself.” 

Gritting your teeth, you let your annoyance fuel you. Anger burns right alongside pleasure as you find the strength to do exactly as he tells you. Leveraging your hold on his shoulders, you continue to spear yourself on him at a steady pace and slowly, your anger is replaced with bliss.

Seungcheol feels incredible. He’s hard to take, stretching you to the max and at this position, he’s so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You keep going, nails biting into his skin and drawing blood but you don’t care. 

Fire burns in his eyes as he watches you. You stare right back, seething at the way he’s making you do it yourself, a little bit of humiliation stinging the edges of your pride. You can tell he thrives on this, satisfied that what you want outweighs any sort of desire to be stubborn.

Somehow, he always wins like this. Always manages to get you to do what he wants. He’s sneaky like that, knowing just what button to press to get you where he wants you. 

Sometimes you feel like you’re a puppet whose strings are connected to his fingertips. 

Either way, you manage to drive yourself to an orgasm, shuddering around him as you seat yourself fully in his lap, throbbing around him. He lets out a long groan, eyes fluttering shut as he struggles to keep his composure.

Leaning back against his knees, you catch your breath. He’s still painfully hard inside of you, and when his eyes open, you see his hunger isn’t sated. Your heart lips when he surges forward, fast as an adder. His mouth crashes into yours hungrily and you let him have you, eager at the flutter in your stomach as he shifts, altering the angle. 

“I’m not done,” he mutters, kisses turning into sharp bites. “So hush while I take what’s mine.” 

-

Something wakes you up from sleep. It’s too dark in your room to see, but your heart is hammering and your hands are quivering. Leaning toward your nightstand, you search for your phone. All you feel is cool wood, no device anywhere.

The dark is oppressive. You don’t remember your room being this dark, the blackout curtains serving as a good device to keep out the city and streetlights, but never so much that you feel swallowed whole. Lost. Devoured.

A tingle buzzes at the back of your neck. You freeze in bed, looking into the never ending darkness. Silence roars in your ears, the outside world completely removed. You can’t even hear your own pulse or breath, the quiet so heavy that panic starts to rise in your throat.

You can’t see but you know you’re not alone - can feel the solid press of something else in the room. 

Too afraid to make noise, you resume the search for your phone, fingers moving slowly across the top of your night stand. You can’t find it. 

Something presses into the mattress at the end of your bed. You feel the dip under its weight but can’t hear the creek of springs. You give up the search for your phone, snatching your hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

It’s a dream, you tell yourself. It’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s- 

The thing in your room moves closer. A scream works its way up your throat where it gets stuck, lodged and unmoving. You squeeze your eyes shut harder, fireworks of color exploding behind your eyelids as you do. 

“I know you’re awake, Pretty.” The voice is so low you can barely make out the words. They scrape against you like claws. “You can’t keep doing this,” it says, almost a sigh in its voice. “You know what this is. What I am.” 

“Go away,” you whisper, voice weak. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t do this again.” 

“Go away, Seungcheol.” 

There’s a low growl that you can feel as it vibrates the air. “As you wish.”

-

The neon sign above the door says Hush. It burns bright and pink against the night sky. You look around, unsure how you got here. Sighing, you pull out your phone to check the time. It’s 3:33 in the morning, which means you’re probably a victim of your sleep walking again. 

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you look up at the sign again. There’s a little blue moon to accompany the pink cursive neon, and though you don’t think you’ve ever seen this bar before, there's a magnetism about it that draws you in. 

Curious, you walk up to the door and go in. The lights are dim and you have trouble seeing at first, but you can make out that there’s a piano in the corner, two booths and a small bar with some stools. A man sits at the bar, his back turned to you. 

“We’re closed,” he grumbles without turning to look at you. You frown, cocking your head as you drink him in. 

The purple suit he wears is an odd choice. His hair is the color of blood, slicked back and a surprisingly nice contrast to the bright color of his suit. A single light flickers above him, painting him in a gold hue.

“What is this place?” you ask, ignoring the fact that it’s closed. 

He doesn’t answer for a second. You think he’s going to ignore you, but finally he says, “Do you have trouble sleeping?” 

You’re surprised by the question. “Yes, actually.” 

“I can help.” 

“Really?” You step further into the bar, watching as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. He is painfully pretty, the kind of beauty that reminds you of old paintings of Lucifer. “How?” 

“Are you accepting my help?” 

Without hesitation you answer, “Yes.” 

His cherry red lips twitch and he shakes his head. Picking up his drink, he polishes it off before standing to turn you fully. The weight of his presence presses down on you like an invisible blanket, weighing you down.

“Of course you do.” He strides toward you and though your instincts tell you to run, something else tells you to stay. He looks down at you with a pair of eyes that threaten to swallow you whole if you let them. His lashes are silky and long, a delicate balance to his heavy gaze. “You always need me, right, Pretty?” 

You nod, a word - a name - buzzing on your tongue as he looms over you. “Please,” you whisper, thoughts a little cottony, a little dizzy. “Seungcheol.”

He grins, revealing sharp teeth. “Hush,” he murmurs. “You’re mine.” 

-

TAG LIST

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[queenimmadolla]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

(eddie munson x reader)

Summary: . . . In which you show Eddie's forehead some much deserved love.

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

“Alright─”

  “Baby, I—“

  “What a way─”

  Eddie broke off again, soft airy laughter escaping him as your kisses rained over his face in a frenzy.

  You had him trapped (he was a willing participant) underneath you, thighs spread on either side of his waist as you bent over at yours, to deliver smooch after smooch to every inch of his skin from his cheeks, raised from how hard he was cheesing, to his jaw—soft save for the barest hints of stubble, his nose and the sides of it, his cupid’s bow, and his mouth (but that’s a given).

  It wasn’t often you attacked him with affection and confined him to his bed, normally that was reserved for wednesdays and weekends, but when you’d walked back into his room after using the bathroom and saw him flipping through a Heavy Metal magazine, sporting a black tank top and some sweats, you’d decided plastering that beautiful face of his in kisses was more important than whatever mind boggling scene was being depicted on those glossy pages.

  The approach had been a little aggressive, magazine pulled from his hands and tossed across the room as you settled in place. From the sparkle in his eyes, you could tell he had no qualms with it.

  You pulled back, sitting up as you admired the flush in Eddie’s cheeks, skin slightly shiny due to his body’s sudden rise in temperature.

  His breathing was a little labored despite the innocence of the occurrence, and he spoke after heaving a sigh, “Cover all of your bases?”

  Your eyes scanned over his face, and while you weren’t wearing lipstick—meaning there was no obvious trail—you knew exactly what spots your lips had touched. Just about everywhere. Almost.

  “Not yet.”

  You reached a palm down to cover his eyes and Eddie squawked in surprise.

  “Uhm, okay… we playing a game now or─”

  “Shhh.”

  “I’m just—“

  “SHHH. Just let me do what I need to do.”

  Eddie held his palms up in defeat, knuckles stroking over his bedsheets.

  Your hand slowly trailed up, moving away from his eyes and lifting the brown curtain of bangs to reveal more skin.

  And more skin.

  And more, until you reached his hairline.

  Jackpot.

  “Eddie, do you know what having a big forehead means?” You asked, thumb stroking over the skin you rarely saw exposed.

  His brows below furrowed, more so in amusement than offense, “That the moment is over because you killed it?”

  “No.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

  “That you’re insulting me by saying I have a big head?” Eddie tried again, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried to fight a smirk.

  “Big foreheads don’t always equal a big head. Try again.”

  “Mmm,” he hummed, one eye squeezing shut as he pretended to mull it over, “I’ve got a big brain.”

  “No,” you started, laughing again when he let out an overtly affronted gasp before you continued, “It means I have more space to work with.”

  You dove down once more, pressing a multitude of kisses along his forehead. There was no planned pattern, you just pecked and smooched wherever you could, over and over again, heart filling with love for him as his boisterous laughter boomed through the trailer.

  His hands moved from their place on the bed to rest on your hips, basking and glowing under your attention. 

  Eddie still couldn’t believe you were real, that you cared for him enough to spend the majority of your free time with him, let alone be so clear and apparent with your feelings for him. 

  He was so very content with life. It had fucked him over for more than half of his times around the sun, but Eddie would go through it all over again if it meant he’d find himself in this exact position every time.

  Eddie Munson was lovesick. 

  It was all over his face, swirling in those warm brown eyes as you pulled away to admire your work. You moved your palm away, though his bangs didn’t resettle over his forehead, they remained sticking up and in disarray. 

  You leaned down once more, this time bracketing his head in with your forearms, nose nudging against his, breath ghosting over his lips. Then you were brushing yours against his—just barely, only enough to have his neck working to chase the taste of you before you whispered into the charged sliver of space, “You do have a big head, though.”

  “Oh, that’s it—you’re done.”

  Eddie flipped you over, your back hitting the mattress as you let out a shriek mingled with surprised laughter.

  He hovered over you, chuckling along as he waited for you to calm yourself. Once you did, you sank back into the mattress and reached a hand up to stroke up his jaw, towards his forehead so you could move his bangs out of the way, adoration clouding your eyes.

  “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  When you looked at Eddie like that? He believed it.

[pastry0w0rlord]

OK REAL TALK.

Why is Trailblazer so horrible to Sampo?

The only good interaction I remember so far is having the option to take his bribe at the museum event.

OK. Listen. I know. Sampo is extremely shady and has given Trailblazer some trouble here and there in the past.

But Sampo has also saved our ass very majorly which Trailblazer acknowledges in the latest trash event.

Also the ways Sampo wronged or tricked Trailblazer is nowhere near in the same magnitude as say, Firefly or Aventurine etc. (Not a shade, I love them. Also by magnitude I do not mean moral intentions, I mean how life threatening the situation ended up being.)

I am not saying Trailblazer should throw themselves in Sampo's arms and give him a smooch. I get that Trailblazer is cautious around fools but holy shit this guy has helped you overthrow Belobog's government, be a little more filtered at least. My issue is with the options the game gives me. You can choose your attitude towards each stellaron hunter (they have bounties and crimes way worse than Sampo's lil in comparison scam circle) and Aventurine. IDK about Jade or Topaz but I am pretty sure they are there too. I am not clumping Aventurine into this since he is also a victim but the IPC has done leagues worse than anyone we have seen in the game so far. Yet the game gives you the option to be nice.

But no, as soon as Sampo is in front of you, these are your options:

A) Tolerate him.

B) Be awful to him.

C) Be horrible to him.

You do not even get option A sometimes:

Either Sampo is gonna end up doing something horrible for sure and the writing team has no idea how to write

or

Trailblazer needs to get humbled FAST because they are a hypocrite.

I dont know why I can choose my attitude towards every character but Sampo. You can't have your cake and eat it too.

By the way I am not making this post because I am biased, I own a lot of morally grey characters in star rail and only Sampo getting this treatment severely bugs me.

Let me know if there are any other characters that are victims of this. I've only noticed the blue porcupine so far.

[naamahdarling]

Two days ago and I was comfortable enough that this was the right choice that I was able to make the call to have Smooch put to sleep. I am sure now. I wish I weren't. It hurts to see him like this. The vet is out or I would move it forward. We could do the emergency vet but I literally do not think I could do it without our vet and my favorite nurse. That feels selfish but when she answered the phone yesterday the comfort was... astonishing.

I'm trying to prepare. I've been waiting for this for a long time, which is why it's bearable at all. I have entertainment, I have an art project to memorialize him ready to go for whenever I feel like it. I have plans to make a couple of keepsakes. But there's going to be a hole in my life so much bigger than his frail little body. It's the end of part of me. He has been there in my future for so long, thinking about not having him there is like vertigo, or a reverse haunting of some kind. It's a Wrongness, part of the world about to be unmade. He is genuinely part of my identity. I'm all these things that I consider core parts of me -- queer, funny, creative, curious, a little clever, loving, an artist, a survivor, my friends' friend, my blood sister's sister, my chosen sister's sibling, my father's daughter, my boyfriend's partner...and I'm Dried Pickle Man's person.

Here at home IRL and online, and everywhere I go, to almost anyone I speak to at all, I have been his human for 13 years and 27 days.

And that isn't enough apparently, because Sid, too, is slipping away. I...I don't know that we can save him, either. His digestive issues are keeping him from eating, we can't stop the flare, a feeding tube won't fix it, meds aren't helping him. He's losing weight very fast. Vet is at a loss. I usually have a pretty good idea of what to do next or what needs to happen. I have nothing for him. The specialist might know. How the hell do we keep affording it?

And Raleigh. Oh god. Raleigh. If we can't afford the surgery or if it fails. What do we do?

What if we lose all three?

What if my boyfriend loses BOTH his boys? Raleigh alone is going to devastate him. Not just sad, like ordinary grief, I mean I have never ever in my life seen an animal love a human this much.

He's already struggling with his depression and ADHD. He will suffer and there is nothing I can do to stop this all from happening. I can't dig into a hidden well of trying harder, I can't outsmart it. I can't comfort him by saying that it is hard but possible to influence this. I hate seeing him in pain.

And I'm scared for me. I am afraid it will just ruin him and I will lose him too, until and unless he can recover. And I already spend so much time alone. Even my art is...gone. Too painful. Writing isn't really possible, either. My body barely feels like mine these days. I have so fucking little to hang on to. My cats are one of the last things I have of myself. One of the only good things I have in my day to day life.

It's all an absolutely terrifying cascade. Unlike a lot of situations where I'm scared of the future, this isn't me afraid of unlikely scenarios that are several crises away. This is very real. And I'm usually not scared for my boyfriend like this.

It won't kill us. You can come back from something like this, probably, I know people survive much worse and I'm bombarded with reminders of that a dozen times a day. But it can take such a long time to come back, and...sometimes you just...Come Back Wrong.

I'm not often genuinely completely helpless. I am helpless now.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Heat is Rising

Sorry this late, blah blah real life actual job blah blah.

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

June 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 8 of 12 - Why is it so good?! It’s unfair. Cause I know pain must be incoming. Also... Yak moved to the "rao" pronoun for his confession! SO ADORABLE!!!!! Can you see me kicking my feet and squealing with joy on this side of the screen? Well I am. 

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - I think I'm finding this show a lot funnier than the show is trying to be. The pose in the doorway. The sparkle pants. The creaking of the leather. It’s all hilarious. The foot massage. So silly. Simultaniously, full of thirst. Yay! I like thirst. Not entirely sure why he’s dicking him around and not dicking him out but hey the tension is fun. Also the shot staging is very good. Very yaoi. Lin going to have so much power in this relationship once he starts trying on seduction for size. All just to say, it’s good and I’m enjoying it.

My Stand-In (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - you know I'm enjoying it a lot, so a surprise to see a Star Hunter beat it out? It's just MosBank are SERVING classic BL and I am a sucker for that kinda smut. Back to Stand-In...

It’s sad and a little complicated and interesting. And I’m still enjoying it very much. But this episode was mostly a rehash of information we already had been given, it was slow. Although since the acting is so good in this particular show, I didn’t mind it as much as I might have in a pulp piece, for example. 

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - I’m very much enjoying this. Not quite as much as I initially enjoyed the JBL version. But I’m liking a lot. There’s something particularly high school teen YA angst about this IP. Even more so than something like Make it Right or Love Sick. It’s just the cringe reactions and the constant embarrassments and the roller coaster of emotions that each character goes through in every scene. I forgot how exhausting it is to be a teen.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 12 of 16 - We Are Cute continues to be very cute indeed. Honestly Phum doesn’t need to flirt with Peem, Peem is already in love. The learning about each other is fun, but the fact that Phum still constantly communicates via kissing is great. I love that we have a couple whose love language is smooches. TanFang endgame is my favorite, I fucking LOVE them. But... NO SINGING. Worst fake band ever? Place docked in BL standing this week for that alone.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - It's fine I guess? Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - It’s ridiculous and they're very cute and I kind of don’t know what’s going on. But the young one getting his first dildo and skipping with excitement was utterly adorable. And it is the first rep we’ve got for such a thing in this genre. So good on you little pulp!

Only Boo! (Sun YT) ep 11 of 12 - Everything felt a little rushed and oddly paced in this episode. Not entirely sure why K came back to him. Anyway, I hope it’s all explained in the finale.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 10fin - I’ve made no secret about the fact that I haven’t been wild about this show.

Here’s a few things I enjoyed about the final episode: Uke initiated the sex scene!! Lots of tenderness. Long takes plus the absence of (and then very gentle introduction of) music. Unexpectedly high heat. Condom rep! The gayest bedroom layout ever. What I didn’t like: The absolute pinnacle of frustration for P'ABL on the other side of the screen wanting to grab the leads and shake them until their teeth rattled and scream "FOR THE LOVE, just TALK to each other!"  Oh but they are so cute and SO POLITE when the finally do reconcile! 

In conclusion:

A BL about the making of a BL where the famous one has a crush on the obscure one. It’s already been done.  Recently. By Japan. I would be tempted to say "better" but I didn’t like the first version either. At least this was less stalkery? Look, this show was fine. Just, in a word: cool, unengaging, and frustrating. OK that was 3 words. But they’re apt. A lackluster offering with a great ending. How to rate that? I despaired but ended up on 7/10 - do better Japan, I know you can.

Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) - it got its part 2, thank the BL gods, rounding this one into an 8 ep series. Still short (those eps barely scrape 10 min at most) but a solid little offering.

Charming reunion romance full of class + coming out struggles and great chemistry all of which was let down by a curtailed length. Had it just been given some legs, it could have grown wings and taken flight, but in the end it is simply too short. Still enjoyable and certainly worth your time. Cause ya don't need much of it. 8/10 RECOMMENDED

It's airing but...

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT?) - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Can't find it.

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - I've put the search on hold for a bit and y'all can let me know if it's worth tracking down.

In case you missed it

I mean you were under a rock on Tues Jan 18th Thailand's senate passed the Marriage Equality Bill. As of typing this, the King still has to sign it into law, but he's unlikely to veto. So it's a matter of time before everything is official. Thailand follows Nepal (2024) and Taiwan (2019). Both of those were judicial, Thailand's is legislative.

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru 2 AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo Tabetai 2 Haime! (Japan movie) - Continued the (frankly) lackadaisical story from part 1 and was meant to drop yesterday. We thought maybe Gaga, but nothing so far.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Last of the June Releases

6/26 The Rebound (Thai Weds Gaga) - MeenPing are back in their 3rd BL together, a basketball based romance (Meen was a national basketball player, so yay for that). I like this pair better than most (I still do miss Meen with Est but Est has a fantastic looking new BL coming from GMMTV so yeah...) Anyway I'm up for a sports romance starring a man who, yah know, actually played that sport so... I'm game (pun intended).

6/26 I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) 10 eps - A new series adaptation of beloved yaoi I Hear the Sunspot (first adaptation was feature film Silhouette of Your Voice 2017).

6/30 The Trainee (Thailand Sun YouTube) 12 eps- office romance between a boss/employee featuring OffGun. Taking over Boo's spot for GMMTV.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Lip touch! So sexy. So rare from Korea. Blue Boys.

I do love a meta call out moment.

Tiny idiots (affectionate)

Love their kisses. Such a great side couple.

All Wandee.

(Last week)

QUICK NOTE: I'm flying international back next weekend and the damn thing is gonna take like 72 hours or whatever insanity. Needless to say, I may not get to this round-up for ages. So don't panic, I'm not dead just sleeping.

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hal, i can't say how happy i am to see you hit such a big number, i've been following you since the beggining and it's so amazing to see this community grow, i love how everyone that interacts is so kind and overall amazing, you deserve that and much more, and i hope things in your personal life keep getting better!! ❤

For the event, i would like to request, if possible, a small drabble of Keegan with a daughter, it can be anything, really! I'm a single mom expecting a baby, and i just need to see a strong military man caring for a child, all your other parent fics just hit the hard in the feelings, so i wanted to see my favorite in this prompt too!

—Hold Her Close

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

He holds her carefully as she sits on the back of his neck, hands firm on her legs as they dangle around his shoulders with their tiny little shoes. The child was giggling, no more than seven, as her hands tangled in the black locks of Keegan’s hair and pulled without any real strength; her eyes stared at all the sights to be seen. 

It was early at Fort Santa Monica, so early the mist was still in the air and the chill caused the protective father to suit his daughter into a jacket that puffed around her frame. She’d been crying last night, and rather than ask her to try and fall asleep again, he’d gone on his morning run with some company. It didn’t bother him, of course. 

She was yours and his daughter—she could never bother him for as long as he lived. 

“Having fun up there?” He grunts out, blue eyes shifting up as the child giggles out a small ‘yep,’ and returns to gazing around with glittering eyes. She was so tiny, he thought to himself. So easy to pick up and infect those little eyes with wonder. Everything down to the way the dew looked in the grass was a foreign world to her—mixed with magic and innocence he never wanted to see gone. 

“Which way, Sunshine?” Keegan asks, blinking forward at the split in the sidewalk; left or right?

“That way,” her pudgy hand points, and booted feet obey without question. Left it was. 

The soldier hums and puffs out a breath of condensation into the air, t-shirt and running shorts swaying around him. 

“If you get cold,” he utters, “you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay!” Keegan pushes down a smile, blue eyes so soft you could mistake it for dyed room-temperature butter. While he wouldn’t get the workout he had intended in the brightening sun of the morning, with the sound of waves lapping in the air and the scent of his sweat dripping off his nostrils, he’d still enjoy this. 

“Can we get hot cocoa?” A hand slaps his forehead and he chuffs a laugh, flinching slightly at the tiny connection of skin. 

“Careful, Kid,” the soldier mutters but nods as his daughter's giggles make his chest swell. Damn him, he was done for the moment he’d seen her in the NICU. “Yeah, fine, we can get some hot cocoa. You know something though?”

His daughter's face is above his as he leans his neck back, looking up into her bright face. She blinks, smiling wide.

“What?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a kiss first, Sweetheart.” 

“Ew!” She laughs, and Keegan holds her body still as it moves all around in her childish delight, legs kicking out as the man laughs under his breath. 

“C’mon,” he huffs, “nothing for your Old Man? I’m hurt. You give Riley kisses on the nose all the time.”

She’s still laughing, holding onto his head. Keegan decides there’s never been a more perfect sound. Without another word, a little smooch is pressed into his hairline, an overdramatic ‘mwah’ sounding off with a raise of hands upwards. 

He beams, eyes crinkling and lips pulled back with a wide smile as he shakes his head in amusement. Moving his face forward, the normally stoic soldier sighs and continues on, his daughter on his shoulders and his heart full. 

[vidavalor]

Canapes. A Good Omens Sex Meta Thing.

A little short burst of meta about wordplay, shelter, smooches and tiny dinners.

This is inspired by @noneorother, who correctly pointed out that I should have included in the (Non-Frozen) Peas meta more about the rest of the wordplay happening in Aziraphale's line of French to Crowley. So, let's talk about that other French word that is hidden in in plain sight (well, sound) in Aziraphale's sentence and how it's a bit, well... vavoom-y.

In this meta, we're mainly going to look a little bit at their love of messing about with homophones. For those who haven't been in a language class in a minute or for whom languages are not your thing--don't worry, I have you covered. :) Homophones are two (or, occasionally, more) words that sound exactly the same when you pronounce them but which have different spellings and different meanings. An Ineffable Husbands-y example in English would be "pair" and "pear." One word means two people or objects grouped together and the other refers to a kind of fruit but when you speak, the words sound identical.

When you are reading, you can easily tell which word is meant by how it is spelled but if you are just listening to a person speaking, you would need to rely on the context clues provided by the other words in the person's sentence to figure out which version of "pair"/"pear" the person was using. The context becomes key to understanding the meaning-- which we also know of to be true in general with Ineffable Husbands Speak, right?

The last word in Aziraphale's sentence in French to Crowley in S2 is a homophone in French, which is absolutely the point of what Aziraphale was going for, in that it's a way to say both words at once.

Because of Crowley translating the French back to Aziraphale with the whole "you don't have an aunt, she doesn't have a gardener, and he doesn't have a... pen", we assume that what Aziraphale said was this: "Oui est la plume de la jardiniere de ma tante?", which we would then translate on one level as meaning "where is the pen of my aunt's gardener?" As we looked at in the first meta I wrote about this line, while this is one way to translate this sentence, Aziraphale built the sentence as a riff on "la plume de ma tante", a French phrase that is used to describe sentences taught while learning a new language that you would never actually say in real life-- which is the context that Crowley used in translating it back, even if as he heard the innuendo, as he knows of the cliche and also no one is ever going to ask where the pen of their aunt's gardener is. Ever lol. We talked in that other meta about how the sentence can also translate where "plume", which means feather in one of its meanings in French, and "jardiniere", which was appropriated to English from French to mean a garden box/flower box, can both be sexually euphemistic-- especially as "la jardiniere" also has meaning with regards to French cooking and food. The key bit to this meta here, though, and to the homophones is the last part of the sentence-- "ma tante"-- and what else it sounds like in French.

We talked about how "la tante" can mean aunt, as Crowley replied, but that it can also mean "queen" and, when taken with the other words in the sentence being euphemistic in a feminine way, the sentence as a whole can be taken as Aziraphale requesting some overdue quality time with Lady Crowley, whom he referred to as "my queen" in French. All of this still holds but what will add to it is that a homophone for "la tante"/"ma tante" in French is "la tente"/"ma tente". Even though these two words are spelled differently, they are pronounced exactly the same way... but "la tente" does not mean "aunt" or "queen"... it means "tent."

So, there's a homophone in French that Aziraphale uses when speaking with Crowley in S2 that translates his word as both "my queen" and "my tent" at the same time because the words are pronounced the same way. This, in true Ineffable Husbands form, manages to be both pretty amusingly dirty and pretty romantic at once. This homophone is very, very clever on Aziraphale's part because while the sentence is referring to Crowley in a feminine way and is Aziraphale expressing that it's been too long since he had himself some red velvet, the homophony causes the other word in play at the same time as "queen" to be "tent", which also euphemistic for an erection. So we have two different words that look almost alike and sound exactly the same when spoken and Aziraphale said one word-- made one sound-- and it represented two words at once, at the same time; one that corresponded to a more feminine-leaning concept of gender (and is also just a French word for queer) and the other that corresponded to a more masculine-leaning concept. But they sound the same and it's all one sound and you can't really tell the difference between the words. How perfectly Crowley. :)

But, as you all know, a tent also is...

...a kind of canopy.

The French word for "canopy", if you're referring to a covering of land, like a tree canopy, is "canopee" and Aziraphale actually speaks French well and would know that but it wouldn't fit the sentence full of innuendo he was building. The sentence builds to the homophone.

As a result, even though Crowley translated what Aziraphale said as "ma tante"-- which isn't incorrect-- and he pretended it meant "my aunt" when he knew it meant "my queen", he also heard the homophone in there that brought forth in the hidden word in the sentence-- "ma tente"-- so he also heard "my tent"/"my shelter" in there and because Crowley plays with homophones and similar word-related things (paronyms, etc.) in Ineffable Husbands Speak just as much as Aziraphale does, he heard what Aziraphale was doing and so really made the jump then hearing Aziraphale use homophones and so mean both two different words that sound alike and say both "my queen" and "my tent" at the same time.

So, they're burying canopies all over the place in S2. Crowley's canopy dialogue in pub scene is him recounting his and Aziraphale's first kiss and Aziraphale flirtily references it back to him in French later on. We aren't quite done yet, though. Recall that I said above that the French word for "canopy" is "canopee." It's pronounced "kan-oh-PAY" and, just like with "la tante"/"la tente", it has a word that is awfully close to it in French and that would be one we also use in English-- "canape."

Canapes are appetizers or, as Gabriel charmingly called them, "tiny dinners." They can be satisfying all on their own or as a starter before a main course. A vol-au-vent is a type of canape. While no one uses the word "canape" during The Meeting Ball, that is what they are all eating. It's there implicit in the words that are actually being said, like how "ma tente" might translate literally as "my tent" but has the context of "canopy" to Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley's word for what was covering them when they took shelter from the rain and first kissed is a "canopy" and it likely was a literal one, in the sense that it was probably a covering of trees and the word for "canopy" in French sounds just like a kind of food.

So, a "canopy" in French is a "canopee", pronounced virtually identically to "canape", which is an appetizer of a small bite of sometimes-toasted bread or a cracker topped with with any number of creative food options to make a delicious, tiny, delightful dinner in its own right or a preview of the food to come.

A canape (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). A kiss.

"Have a canape, my canopy" is basically what this amounts to:

We are going to leave it here and not at Crowley tossing the tray and going for the door and how that foreshadowed the ending of S2 here lol. Well, actually, here... to end on a happy note...

...just that shot of Aziraphale holding a tray of food kisses while looking at Crowley's lips, nothing to see here, no possible vavoom flashback in sight for S3 at all... :)

[im-the-reader-of-which-you-speak]

Oral Fixation

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Summary: You want a kiss. Doesn't matter how, doesn't matter who. Lucky for you, your best friend is there to help.

Word count: ~600

Notes: Fluff. Friends to Friends-That-Kiss. Reader is implied to not smoke. Eddie calls the reader "Princess" and "Sugar." Unaddressed fire hazards.

Your eyes focus on the swirls of smoke hanging above Eddie's bed, drifting from his mouth. A frustrated groan erupts from deep within your chest.

"What's eating you?" Eddie spins towards the source of the noise, eager to irritate you further.

"I want a kiss."

"Alright then," he grins. He makes a show out of puckering his lips and making kissy noises as leans down towards you.

"Eddie no!" Quickly dodging, you push him off. He yanks you back down to him, you two collapse into a mess of giggles.

"Oh am I not good enough for a kiss?"

"Nope. Not as long as you keep smoking these things." You flick the blunt out of his hand. You're freed from his grip as he scrambles to retrieve it from his bedsheets.

"Oh c'mon, you don't love my herbal aroma? Prude." Blunt safely back between his soft lips, he inhales. You make an exaggerated wretch and he rolls his eyes "So who do you want a kiss from then?"

"I dunno. My lips are just like... hungry. I just want it to stop so I can get on with my day and think about something productive."

"An oral fixation." He laughs at you before taking another hit of his blunt, finishing it off and throwing the roach somewhere to be forgotten. "So your waiting for your prince to come and save you? Mr. Right with pearly white teeth and minty fresh breath?"

"God Eds, it's not like I want a relationship right now. I just want a kiss. I guess I don't care who."

"Well I got two lips right here, sugar. Ripe for the taking if any princess who wants them."

At this point you were considering it. Your lips are screaming for attention. That's all you could think about. Burning up inside for any mouth-to-mouth contact. Just a quick little kiss could save you. Just quick eensy weensy little smooch. And what's a peck or two between friends? It's not like you're having sex.

"Hmm" you hum. He had gotten up to change the music. He's in his own world now, biting his lips as he chooses the next record to play. It would just be... scratching an itch. He scratches your back, and you'll scratch his when the time comes. That's what friends do, they help each other.

"Maybe I'll have to take you up on that offer" You announce as he drops the needle. You can hear Pour Some Sugar on Me is what he decided on. "Oh?"

And it'd be quick. Over in an instant. As if you two have never done anything at all.

"Yeah. I need it real bad. Worried it'll kill me if I go one more second without my lips mashed against the closest man."

"Well we can't have that, can we?" He comes to sit right next to you, thigh to thigh. Getting right in your face. You can smell the Mary Jane on his breath. He's looking you right in the eyes, holding an almost... hungry stare. The tingle that was once focused solely on your lips has suddenly engulfed your whole body.

"You serious?" Eddie mutters. Your response is only a tremble.

"Yeah"

In the blink of an eye you two were attached at the lip. It's real, it's too real. But your head is in the clouds, everything is so hazy it still feels like a dream. What must have been only a few seconds feels like a life time. His arms wrap arounds you, soothing the heat in the rest of your body. Your sense of time comes back to you when his lips leave your's. Your body simmers down as the distance grows between you.

You're not sure. Maybe you'll have to try again, for good measure.

"Did that do the trick?" He asks, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

[inksoakedparchment]

We were too close to the stars

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: fluff

trope: soulmates

word cunt: 1,224

tw: suicide, death, swearing, my english

summary: you’re smiling outside but dying inside. you love him so much, he’s the only reason you stayed. but you can’t handle this anymore…

a/n: bad day, sad oneshot

song: Reflections by The Neighbourhood

masterlist

It’s a tough day for you. Not because of your found family, not because of your boyfriend, it’s just you. Your anxiety and depression. Nobody noticed it, because you’re showing that you’re totally okay. Smiling, laughing and joking around while you’re dying inside. Every day is a challenge. You’re not living, just surviving.

“Doll, what’s the matter?” Bucky goes into your room, he didn’t see you all day, only when he woke up.

“Nothing,” you smile at him softly. “Just tired,” you sigh.

“Are you sure about that?” he lies down next to you and draws you closer to him.

“Yeah,” you bury your face into his chest.

“I love you, Y/N. If something’s bothering you, you can always talk to me,” he gives a smooch in your hair.

“I know. I love you too,” you look up and kiss him gently.

“I have to go on a mission. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Call me if you need me,” he kisses you again but when he wants to pull away, you cup his cheek between your hands and deepen the kiss. It’s a real goodbye kiss. Not an ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’, it’s an ‘I'll see you in another life’ kiss.

“I love you,” he kisses your cheek.

“I love you too,” you smile at him, he gives you a tight hug and leaves. You already told everyone that you love them yesterday. But saying goodbye to your boyfriend, to the love of your life, to your saviour it feels heartbreaking. He’s just seen you for the last time and he doesn’t even know about it.

You grab a piece of paper from your sketchbook and you start writing a letter;

‘My dearest love,

First of all; it’s not your fault. I love you to the moon back, I love you at the deepest level, and I hope you know that. Bucky don’t you dare blame yourself, I’ve never shown what’s going inside my head. You’ve never known how much I’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety for years. You showed me the best side of life but after two years with you, I felt it again. As strong as before. It’s my fault, I haven’t told you but I should have. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me. You should know I’m never gonna stop loving you, you’re my everything. Don’t forget that, okay? You’re the most important person to me, but I can’t do this anymore. I reached my lowest point, I reached the bottom of this shit. You and I were bright, shootin‘ through the sky daily. You’ll be forever in my heart, I’m going to be your guardian angel. I’m going to protect you, I promise.

I love you.’

You put the letter on your bed then you go to the bathroom. You open the faucet and fill the bathtub with cold water. You grab your gilette from the little box which you hid behind the towels, and you sit in the cold water. Your clothes soaking wet and you cut your left wrist. Then your right wrist. You cut both of your arms and the gilette falls out of your hand, it lands on the tiles with a loud snap. You watch the water as your blood paints it red, and the world starts feeling dizzy. And it ends. Your body slumps, the life leaves your body. It’s over. Every memory, every happy memory is flashing in front of your eyes. Most of them are with Bucky…

The next day when the team arrives home, Bucky goes into your room with a smile, he wants to tell you how the mission went. But when he opens the door of your room he furrows his eyebrows. Then he notices the paper on your bed. Bucky starts reading the words on it and his face becomes pale. The letter falls out of his hand, after a few moments he swings your bathroom door open then he sees you. Your lifeless body lying in the bathtub which is full of bloody water. He kneels next to it and touches your cold skin with a shaking hand. Then he bursts out. The tears just run down his cheek, and he bawls in pain. Bucky feels your absence physically. After a few minutes, he gently picks you up and takes you down in his arms. He stops in the living room in front of the whole team with tears on his face. Steve looks up first, his lips part and rushes to Bucky.

“I lost her,” he whispers, staring at your face.

“Bucky,” Steve puts his hand on his shoulder, fighting with his own tears too. It hurts him to see his best friend crying, but your loss hurts him deeper.

The whole team just staring at you in Bucky’s arm. Everyone’s crying. Everyone loved you.

After your funeral, the Avenger’s Compound was silent for weeks. Nobody talked, only when it was necessary. But today Bucky goes to your grave again. Just like he did every day after he watched your coffin get buried.

“I miss you. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve got along but I’ve been sad. So fucking sad. Now I really know what ‘surviving but not living’ means. I guess now I get what you felt for years. I feel like we were too close to the stars. That’s why we got this faith. I want you back, I really want to see you once again. I call you every day just to hear your voice. I watched every video we took of ourselves. I stare at our photos together. I never knew somebody like you. I won’t ever,” he whispers.

At home, he takes off his metal arm, grabs his gun and sits on the edge of his bed. He thinks for a few moments, but he knows that he can’t live without you. The Compound echoes by the gunshot. Steve, Tony and Sam look at each other and in a minute they run up to Bucky’s room. Steve’s heart is breaking again. Tony’s and Sam’s soul darkens even more. Two deaths in two months. Steve lost his best friend and you. Sam lost his two best friends. Tony lost his ‘adopted’ daughter and his friend. The whole team lost two friends.

You stand in front of your grave, noticing the little details when you feel arms on your waist. You quickly turn around and your lips part.

“Bucky?” your eyes become teary.

“I’m here, love. You won’t ever escape from me,” he smiles sadly and hugs you tightly.

“I don’t want to. But you…?” you swallow.

“I did. I couldn’t take it anymore without you. I love you more than myself. And now,” he pulls away and looks at you. “I see my reflection in your eyes. It means more than you know. In your eyes I see a man who’s loved by a perfect woman,” he says softly and kisses you. Tears run down your cheeks as you kiss him back.

“I see myself in you, I see myself in you, baby. I see myself in you, alright?” you lean your forehead to his.

“I sold my soul for you, maybe you should stick with me now,” he whispers.

“I’m stuck by your side. Forever,” you look into his ice-blue eyes.

“Forever,” he kisses your forehead.

tag list: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @nottslvttt

[vladdyissues]

I don't know how you do it, Dude, I'm afraid to say that I'm attracted to pompous pep since I know it's wrong to ship a minor and an adult, People are cruel to death, Nobody knows what I like, I hide among the anonymous messages of the internet, Sometimes I see people like you who have their account free mind, People talk very badly about accounts like you, even putting them in places in the fandom to talk badly about them, Fear runs through me, I want to draw pompous Pep, Maybe I'm not attracted to the sexual, But I really feel like it's wrong and it hurts me

You've been at this for a while, right? Your account is full of pompous Pep (I secretly love your account), How did you manage to have the courage to show yourself?, People look at you badly, say bad things, that you are a sick pedophile and that...How do you achieve this without fear???, are you so brave or god 😭

1️⃣ I'm from old school fandom—pre-Twitter, pre-AO3, pre-Internet-as-we-now-know-it. I've learned to not give a fuck about what stupid, ignorant, uninformed people say on the Internet.

2️⃣ It's not my job to educate or "convert" people who disagree with me. I'm not a missionary. I'm here to have fun, and no one is going to spoil that for me.

3️⃣ I—and you, and anyone else reading this—don't owe anyone on the Internet an explanation, a reason, or any kind of justification for writing stories or drawing pictures of fictional cartoon characters smooching. (It's all so silly, honestly. I have real things to care about, like bills and pets and laundry. I envy people who have nothing to stress about except ink and paint from a 20-year-old Nickelodeon show.)

4️⃣ The media—specifically, the fictional entertainment—we enjoy is not a reflection of our humanity, morality, or an indication of our personal beliefs. If that were true, the police would be arresting authors like Stephen King and George RR Martin for writing about underage sex and incest and gore, as well as anyone who enjoys their works.

You know who does believe that reading something will "pervert" you, or that enjoying "dark things" like murder and violence and age gap ships means you must secretly be committing those things in real life? Fascists. Conservatives. Right-wing nationalist fundamentalist Christian types. People who want to ban queer books from libraries and call anyone who disagrees with them "pedophiles" and "groomers". Remember that the next time you see one of these fandom cops screeching about how so-and-so is a "pedo" because they ship two cartoons. These are people on the wrong side of history. They're anti-intellectual, anti-education, and pro-censorship. Get away from them as fast as you can.

Anon, if it seems like a lot of your friends (or the people you're around) are hating on something you want to enjoy and making you feel unsafe to talk about the things you like, then you need to find better friends. Leave them. Block them. Add their usernames to your content filters so you never have to see their ugly, hateful opinions ever again. You don't need that kind of negativity in your life, especially here on Tumblr, where we're all trying to find things that make us happy and celebrate others' creative works. Life's too short to hang around shitty people 💩

[shakespearean-dream]

last of the big five yall!!!!

happy late fourth of july! remember to keep boycotting, speak out and listen to palestinians, the people of congo, native americans, queer/trans people and women currently being oppressed this independence day because america fucking sucks!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥

here are a couple good places to donate! please remember to do your own research and take care of each other, it’s getting scary out here.

ohhhh nimdok, where to start with you….

i have been dreading doing him because he pisses me off so bad but i actually had some decent fun with him :D. designing him and branching out farther away from his canon self was nice, but im not touching his backstory or personality really, that stays about the same for me in my head.

speaking of whichhh! like benny, i understand how the game makers had a short amount of time to fit an entire character arc of an old man undoing his deeply internalized racism/xenophobia/ableism in a singular short scenario, but unlike benny i actually somehow like his better?? nimdok had a lot more to get over (well not saying being a dickhead murderer isn’t a lot but 😭) and i enjoyed seeing him actually help out the people he would’ve previously turned in. it still feels a little hollow/unrealistic because again, he’s been like this his whole life, but considering how much AM takes him away from the group to (most likely) psychologically torture him for his actions he’s probably had a bit of a revelation.

doing his scenario was unfortunately funny at times because of the strange way we had to go about redeeming him with the golem guy😭giving him a smooch caught me off guard but ykw? i’ll take it for being able to kill mengele like immediately afterward. also speaking of whichhhh…

i would go into more detail about nimdok and mengeles relationship to give it some depth because god i love me some queers, but that is??? a real fucking guy???? a real life monster???? im less than comfortable picturing the fucker in my mind, much less giving him depth with a character who i also don’t like. like why ship ur essentially OC with a REAL LIFE N/AZI??? just another one of the reasons harlan elision creeps me out. (if that just pissed you off google search him s/a-ing 2 people, marrying a 19 year old when he was in his 40s and defending a child r/apist i really don’t feel like arguing with you. the guy was a horrible fucking person and he makes me sick, i just like this franchise.)

i cannot cough up anymore thoughts about this fella pls forgive me; these past couple days have been rough on my 3 brain cells. AM will for sure be next and after that fully rendered/decked out full bodies are in order!! so look out for that:]]]] i may also start posting some art fight things since i was just complaining about the lag a post or so ago☺️ jk ily artfight. team seafoam lets goo

ok i love u guys!!! if u have any requests for me drop a comment or an ask, and thank you so much for the continued support on my art❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ lots of links on this post but one more quick reminder to take a look at my commission page if you’d like!!! yolanda is still in the shop because they cannot figure out what’s wrong with her :(

have a good night friends 🫶