#not sure I got to finish the other half though

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“You’re awfully cheerful.” The villain leaned back on the hero’s couch and cocked their head. There was only a hint of a smirk but the hero didn’t need more than that to determine their nemesis’ mood.

It was all about the subtle movements.

A twitching eyebrow. A look at their own shoes. A breath taken in a little too quickly.

The hero knew the villain - knew every little detail about their behaviour, knew what they were feeling. Feelings were one thing, facts on the other hand…the hero didn’t know what their nemesis was planning, nor what their next move was. They could tell when the villain was angry, disappointed, amused. But why…?

Nevertheless, the hero smiled and lounged in their armchair, making themselves as comfortable as possible in their own home.

“I’m trying this new thing…having a positive mindset and all. You know, not taking everything so serious.”

“Someone blew up your car today,” the villain pointed out. They stared at the bottle of wine the hero had opened an hour ago. Half finished. “You must be quite upset.”

“I’m kind of grateful, actually.”

“Grateful?” The villain raised a brow and the hero tilted their head. It must have looked rather confident. Cocky, almost. Whether it was the little bit of alcohol or the situation in general - the hero did feel a bit cocky.

“Yeah, I mean. I’m glad I wasn’t in the car when it exploded. That’s a reason to celebrate.”

“Someone knows you’re involved with me,” the villain said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” the hero answered.

“Evidence suggests it, though.”

The hero whistled, impressed. Their eyes widened and something inside them wanted this to be their fault.

“What else is the evidence suggesting, Detective?” The hero let their eyebrows wiggle and took a sip of the wine. They liked to think that not only the villain was changing the hero but that the hero was also influencing their nemesis.

Detective. The villain was definitely smart enough to be one and, Lord, the hero would have loved to see that brilliant mind work on cases with them.

The hero smiled to themselves. Fantasising about the villain being their partner wasn’t new. But it was entertaining. Over and over again.

“That you’re not careful enough.”

“Hm?”

“You got into a fight again. Your knuckles are bruised. Someone blew up your car today. And all you do is sit here and drink,” the villain said. A twitching eyebrow. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” The hero’s eyes narrowed. “Scared your favourite hero will end up dead?”

The villain’s face didn’t change and at first, they didn’t say anything.

So, the hero observed them carefully.

Their relationship was at a point that suggested they were either hooking up or just really good friends. For the neighbours, it was normal to let the villain in. And for the hero, it was normal to visit the villain in their lair.

Quite risky. Quite rewarding, too.

Exchanging information was crucial to the both of them.

Additionally, the hero kind of liked them.

“I would get you a bodyguard but as of right now, I can’t guarantee that whoever wanted to kill you today isn’t one of my men.” A look at the ground and the hero had to frown. “I’ll take care of that, obviously.”

“You want to hire a bodyguard? For me?” the hero asked. They chuckled into their wineglass.

“No, I won’t hire anyone. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

“Huh?!” The hero’s grip around the glass tightened.

“You’re irreplaceable as informant and in case you die, all your secrets which means all my secrets are very likely to see the light of day. The files on your computer won’t stay hidden forever. I’d like to avoid that.”

“I think I can take care of myself.” The hero looked at the wine. Did that mean the villain wanted to move into this apartment?

The hero blushed softly.

More reasons for the neighbours to gossip about a possible relationship. Jeez.

“I don’t think so,” the villain said. “I haven’t threatened you in weeks, so don’t make me do it. I won’t debate this. I need you alive and I don’t trust anyone enough to do this job right now. I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t get a say in this?” the hero asked. They laughed at the absurdity.

“No.” The villain’s voice was stern now.

“Hm.” Slowly, the hero finished the glass and set it down on the little table between them and the villain. “Maybe it’ll be fun to watch you follow me around like a dog.”

A blush.

“Call it whatever you want.”

And that’s how the both of them became roommates.

[monstersflashlight]

hi can i ask for chubby m reader with gymrat orc and minotaur roomates. where they just came back from the gym about to take a shower together not realizing their chubby roomate was already in there and they get reallh horny after seeing him naked in the shower and fuck him together pls🥰

Sweaty

Orc x minotaur x male!reader || sharing is caring, shower sex, lowkey dirty talk

You were singing in the shower when your music was turned off rudely. “Ey!” You screamed, wiping your eyes and turning around in time to see the two pieces of meat that you called roommates. They were staring at you with open eyes and gaping mouths, and a smirk slowly spreading through their features.

It had been hell to share an apartment with two big monster himbos that knew no decency and spent most of their time half naked around you. Especially when they turned physical and started to make out with each other just because. You guessed they didn’t care if the human in the house watched, they paid you no attention at all. (Or so you thought).

You weren’t even sure they were a thing, but every time they were bored they started making out in the couch, driving you insane. You had to run out of your shared spaces more than on because they were on the edge of starting striping each other in front of you, not caring that you were there. You had to run to your room with a hot face and an aching hard on. You masturbated hearing them sigh and moan against each other more than once, much to your own embarrassment. But who could blame you? They were hot as hell and didn’t let you forget it.

And now they were staring at your naked body under the spray and smirking like you were their next meal. Fuck. You didn’t know fear erections were a thing, but right now you didn’t know what to feel when your dick started getting hard in front of you as you tried to cover. They weren’t trying to hide anything, though. Their smirks grew bigger and bigger, the green orc taking off his clothes in a rush of clothes as the minotaur struggled to get the sweaty shirt over his horns.

“Wha-?” You didn’t get to finish that thought before the orc was pressing against your back, completely naked and with an impressive hard dick pressing against your fat ass. He covered your neck with his hand as he caressed your chest with the other hand.

“Fuck, you two look so good together,” the minotaur whined as you felt him slip past you, pressing his front to your front, his very big erection pressing against your stomach. He accidentally touched the shower head with his horns, and the three of you got a spray to the face, making you choke as they giggled.

What the fuck was happening?

Between the sweat and the soap on your body you were slippery against their bodies. The rocking of two big monsters made you the filling of the best sandwich in existence, and when you whined, they cooed at you.

The orc started talking before you could verbalize your confusion. “You like that, little human? You like the feel of monster cocks against your slutty body?” You couldn’t answer, your brain too foggy because of their traveling hands. “You know we’ve been watching you, little human… We heard you jerking off as we made out. It was so hot.” Your embarrassment was making your brain even more foggy, all the blood rushing between your cheeks and your hard dick, rubbing against a slippery minotaur thigh. “We’ve been waiting for you to say something, but you haven’t… And then we come home after the gym and find you here, washing your lush body and moving your fat ass in beat to the song… Do you know what that did to me? To us?” They press their dicks against your soft body at the same time, making you groan like a bitch in heat.

“Don’t torture him, darling, he’s more than enjoying himself,” the minotaur said as he grabbed your cock and started pumping.

You whined, a green finger finding our mouth and making you suck on the digit as they groped and caressed your body along the warm water. It was intoxicating, arousing to the point of insanity, and you were so hard. You were so close and they barely touched you.

The orc pulled his finger away, his big hand traveling down until it found your puckered hole, and didn’t let you catch your breath before he was pressing inside, making you groan and plead, the minotaur’s hand against your dick making it difficult for you to focus. They were monster-handling you in tandem and it was almost too much for your poor human brain.

“Please,” you whispered, making them chuckle.

“What do you say, darling? Should we give our little human what he deserves?” You nodded vehemently as the orc behind you laughed loudly, the movement of his body making you press harder against the minotaur.

“Sure thing, let’s give him what he deserves,” the edge of his tone made you shiver in anticipation. You weren’t sure what was happening, but you weren’t about to question two big monsters about to make your fantasies come true.

The finger inside of you turned into two, and you felt a squirt of something against your crack, making you shiver at the coldness. The orc shushed you, his tusks against your pulse point as he opened you up rapidly. His fingers were so big, easily double the size of yours, and in no time you were begging him to fuck you. They laughed, teasing your nipples, your soft belly, your dick… The combination of sensations was making you see stars and they weren’t even inside of you yet.

“I call dibs!” The minotaur said, making the orc grumble behind you and say: “No way, I stretched him, I’m gonna cum in his fat ass first, he’s been driving me insane.” They bickered a bit more, but you were far beyond their voices, your body almost at the edge.

That’s why you weren’t expecting the big dick that pressed against your asshole and took your breath away. He pushed in slowly, and the minotaur claimed your mouth in a punishing kiss. He distracted you as the biggest dick you ever had bottomed inside of you, letting you accommodate for a total of two seconds before setting a frantic pace that had you trusting them to not let you fall, your knees already giving out on you.

“Come on, little human, come for us,” the orc whispered against your ear as the minotaur swallowed your groans.

It was like he hit a button and your body stopped responding, pleasure so high and so intense your vision blacked out for a second before you were screaming his name and rocking back into his hard dick. He grunted and thrust one more time before you felt his release painting your insides.

But they weren’t done. They turned your body around and your used hole was being filled again. A chorus of “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” coming from behind you as the orc chuckled and kissed your face tenderly. His pace was slower, but somehow it felt more intense and deep. His thrusts were controlled and before you could even comprehend what your body was doing, you were coming without even getting hard, a dry orgasm hitting your body and making you see stars. You felt his release inside of you not two seconds later, his sweet words against your neck as he came down from it.

Your body gave out and they grabbed you, laughing at each other as they cleaned you and themselves, kissing every part of your body accessible to them as you floated in a cloud of post orgasm bliss.

“I think we broke him,” the orc joked as the minotaur carried you out of the shower.

Yeah, he was probably right.

[celestie0]

hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 16: The Bracelets

Thanks again for keeping this story alive!!! Chapter 15 was posted a few moments ago, so make sure you read that first! Please leave comments on the story and art ❤️

26 Days until competition

“What do you mean you don't want to spend time with me?” Azriel questioned playfully. Socked feet propped up on the coffee table, Azriel stretched his body as he held his phone, content to watch Elain who had been frantically running around her kitchen for thirty minutes. 

On the other end of the video call, Elain snickered as she put the finishing touches on the cooled down cake. It was a simple red velvet cake covered in thick cream cheese frosting. 

“That is not what I said at all,” She chuckled, smoothing out the icing with a butter knife. “Nesta is having a girls’ night. I figured it would be good if I went for a little while.”

Azriel's heart squeezed in his chest. The meeting with Miryam and Drakon had been one of his best ideas. It’d only been a few days since then, but there was no trace of the doubts that had previously plagued her brain. She’d needed a reminder of what skating was all about. A reminder that she was strong and capable, and could give herself permission to be entertained. To open her heart and let love, any kind of love, burrow its way in. 

They’d spent a good two and a half hours at the Snowspell rink, jumping between showing the married couple their ice dance routine, and carefully learning intricate lifts only allowed in the pairs skating program. Miryam talked Elain’s ear off, sharing early stories of her and Drakon’s relationship while Drakon relentlessly teased Azriel any chance he got about the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. After they’d left the rink, Elain’s joy could be felt across Prythian. Azriel had dreamed of Elain’s lips on his cheek that same night. 

“I didn't realize you were so hellbent on seeing me anyway,” Elain taunted, licking the frosting from the knife when she’d finished. There was something so erotic about this sweet, soft woman licking what could double as a deadly weapon. 

“Spending time with you is the best part of my week,” Azriel answered truthfully, adjusting so that one arm was underneath his head. “There's nothing better.” 

“Not even hockey?” She asked quietly, doe eyes wide in surprise as she gingerly sprinkled pink hearts onto the cake. He’d gotten lost in those eyes on more than one occasion. He’d also caught those pretty brown eyes looking at him in a way she never had before. Almost as if he’d finally become something more to her than just a skating partner. More than just a friend. His cheeks warmed at the possibility. 

Azriel spoke softly, “No, not even that.” And it wasn’t a lie. Everything else dulled in comparison to spending whatever little time he could with her. 

“And what will you do while I am occupied tonight?” Either a genuine question, or a way to squash the palpable tension that could be felt even across a video call.

“Maybe I'll throw my own guys’ night,” He suggested, though a night alone was tempting. 

“Whatever you do, do not corrupt my nephew,” She said, pointing the knife at the camera. 

“I wouldn’t dream of stealing Cassian’s job.” A moment passed before he said more solemnly, “Promise me you’ll call if you need me for anything.” 

Elain’s face flushed. She wondered if her cheeks would always heat or her heart would always glow when he showed just how much he cared about her. “I promise.” 

Elain stood outside Nesta's door with the cake cradled between her hands. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the wind, matching the sprinkles on the sweet treat. Laughter erupted from behind the door, and Elain decided she couldn’t flee now even if she wanted to. A very tipsy Nesta had spotted her through the window and ran to fling open the door, enveloping Elain in a warm embrace. With a laugh, Elain gently scolded her older sister for almost crushing the cake. 

The inside of Nesta’s home smelled like cinnamon, embers from the fireplace, and three different types of alcohol. On the couch, Feyre lounged with a glass of red wine as dark as the accent pillows. Two girls sat on the floor, a brunette and a redhead, with a giant unopened box between them. 

“Am I late?” Elain asked sheepishly, nodding her hellos. She turned to Nesta. “You said to come over at eight. How are you already tipsy?” 

“No comment,” Nesta slurred, patting Elain’s cheeks. She must have had a few drinks before anyone arrived. “And you’re right on time. Elain, meet Emerie and Gwyn. Emerie teaches mixed martial arts here in the Night Region, and Gwyn owns a vocal studio in Summer.” 

All three girls flashed bright grins between each other. Elain placed the cake down on the kitchen table and said softly, “I baked a cake. I hope everyone likes red velvet.” 

Everyone did, in fact, enjoy red velvet cake. The treat was gone within the hour, along with most of Feyre’s delicately crafted charcuterie board. Gwyn’s exotic fruit tray had also been a hit, and the drinks were flowing and constantly being refilled. Bottles of wine, liquor, and even sparkling ciders were quickly becoming empty. 

Elain, to her sisters’ shock, had indulged in perhaps one too many drinks as well. She’d burst open from her shell, nodding along to Gwyn’s stories and laughing loudly at Emerie’s drunk antics. Feyre’s eyes glittered as she and Elain drunkenly swayed to music, and Nesta’s cackle could be heard all the way in Day region at Elain’s attempts at filthy jokes. 

“What’s in the box?” Elain motioned toward Gwyn, who eagerly unsnapped the locks and turned it around for everyone to get a better look. Elain’s hazy eyes took a moment to focus. 

“One of my vocal kiddos brought me this bracelet kit for Solstice last year,” She beamed, fiddling with the bracelet strings before passing them around. “I haven’t found time to make any yet, so I figured tonight would be perfect. Silly, harmless fun. There’s enough for me to make bracelets for all my students and for you all too, if you’d like.” 

Elain accepted her string, rubbing it between her fingers. In all her twenty six years, she’d never experienced something as simple as making a beaded bracelet with friends. Lighthearted, easy fun had never been a choice. 

And now it was.

So she grabbed another string, scooped a pile of beads and charms from the box, and permitted herself to create a memory that in years time, she’d hold dear to her heart. 

The last bottle of wine had just been cracked open as the doorbell shrieked. Emerie, closest to the door, opened it and blinked. 

“We heard there was a party.” 

Elain watched Nesta’s head whip toward the front door, mouth falling open as Cassian stomped into the house, followed closely by Rhys and…

“Azriel,” Elain breathed, not as quiet as she thought. His gaze found hers immediately, shooting a wink in her direction. 

She didn’t know where to look first. 

The short sleeve black shirt that seemed to suffocate his arms.

The gray sweatpants that hung loosely off his hips. 

The backward black cap. 

The molten hazel eyes. 

The smirk that always sent her heart into overdrive. 

She didn’t know where to look first, so she just…looked. 

And if he gave her shit about it, or tried to joke about her ogling him, she’d blame it on the three and a half glasses of wine she’d consumed. 

Elain stood, blocking out Rhys and Feyre’s conversation about Nyx’s bedtime routine with their sitter named Madja, and completely ignoring Cassian’s lame attempts at flirting with Nesta (who only seemed to be enjoying said attempts due to the large amount of vodka in her system). 

She walked right over to Azriel, whose grin was blinding. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What have you been up to, beautiful? You look like you’ve been having a good time.” 

Elain offered a lazy smile of her own, extending her hand and wiggling her fingers as the other was clenched behind her back. “Follow me.” She led him to the back porch, sticking out her tongue at Cassian’s wolf whistle (which earned him a smack on the chest from Nesta), before shutting the door for privacy. 

“I got you something,” Elain said, shaking her head at the mistake. Giggles erupted from her throat. “Well, technically, I made you something.” In a movement so swift she almost lost her balance, she presented her clenched fist toward him, revealing a pair of bracelets. She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I know you have my necklace, but now we have matching good luck charms, too.” 

Azriel blinked. 

Elain bit her lip, stained cherry red from the wine. “Is it stupid? We don’t have to wear them. They’re probably not good anyway since I’m a bit tipsy and couldn’t really see the colors of the beads but–.”

“Put it on me.” 

The rambling paused. “What?” 

He presented his wrist, saying thickly, “Put it on me.” 

A relieved breath escaped her lips as she secured the pink bracelet around his wrist. It took her five tries to finally knot the string, playfully pouting when Azriel teased her about watching her alcohol intake. The middle beads made up her name, and the blue bracelet she had him tie around her own wrist featured his name, too. A claiming of the sort. 

“Miryam told me that she and Drakon used to wear a matching set of rings on the day of their competition to bring them luck,” Elain hiccupped, covering her mouth when another set of drunken giggles left her mouth. Azriel leaned against the back of a chair on the porch, arms crossed and eyes mesmerized by the current state of his partner. “Cresseida and Varian have matching warm-up jackets, and I know Kallias and Viviane have each other’s initials tattooed on the inside of their wrists. They kiss the tattoos before they skate. I wanted us to have something, too. Even if it’s just a silly beaded bracelet made after one too many glasses of merlot.” 

Elain felt herself being pulled into Azriel’s chest. She sank into him, nuzzling her face into the fabric of his shirt. He held her to him, fingers running through her honey-gold strands. 

“I hope you know I’m never taking this off,” Azriel said, lips brushing against her hair. She smelled faintly of jasmine, honey, and the wine she’d consumed. Familiar and intoxicating. 

Elain, arms still wrapped tightly around Azriel’s torso, tilted her head back to say, “That’s the point.” 

They were content to embrace each other in the dark of the night. At least, Azriel truly was. But it was Elain who pulled away first, just enough so there was a sliver of space between their bodies. Azriel folded his arms over his chest, face easy as he watched Elain look him over unabashedly. 

“Checking me out?” He teased, lips quirking. 

He expected her to flush like she always did. And of course she did. But the rose color that blossomed high on her cheeks was accompanied by a sultry voice. “And if I am?” 

She stepped forward again, and Azriel audibly swallowed as her fingernail traced the dark ink along his bicep. Her movements were slow, exploratory, and hell he could do nothing but stand there and let her touch him. 

Her fingers grazed the tattoos on his neck next. Azriel bit his lip to stifle a groan before murmuring, “Then that makes two of us.” 

Indeed, because he was growing less subtle whenever his eyes lingered on her body over the last few days. The urge to touch her, taste her, had been far more consuming now than in the beginning of their partnership. 

But he wouldn’t touch her, nor would he taste her. 

Not yet. 

Not in this state. 

“Az?” She whispered into the night, index finger tracing the sharpness of his jaw, the outline of his lips. His pants visibly tightened, and he prayed to whatever entity existed that she didn’t look down, lest she be uncomfortable. 

“Mm?” 

“What’s it like?” She asked softly, thumbing the plushness of his bottom lip. Her eyes focused on his mouth, savoring the warmth of his breath, before saying, “To be kissed?” 

Every piece of Azriel froze. 

His thoughts and his bones and his blood and his breathing and his heart. Time was suspended as he let the question sink in.

“I’ve never been kissed before,” Elain went on, eyes a shade of deep brown. Azriel couldn’t, wouldn’t, tear his own gaze away from her. Not while she was looking at him as if she might ravish him wholly. “And I’ve never kissed anyone myself but I…” She swallowed then, the only outward show of nerves. “I think I’d like to kiss you one day.” 

Azriel’s heart leaped. He didn’t care that her words were a bit slurred and thick from the wine. Didn’t care that she was revealing a piece of herself while she wasn’t sober. Despite the alcohol in her veins, he knew her words were truthful. “I think I’d like to kiss you, too.” 

One moment, Elain’s eyes were roving over his face, his body, and her hands were tracing and gently gripping any sliver of exposed skin. The next second, her lips quivered and eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “But I can’t.” 

Azriel’s face fell, and he gripped her wrist in his hand, their bracelets glinting in the moonlight as he cradled her hand against his cheek. “Why not?” He asked in a broken rasp. 

Elain pulled away, although every instinct in her body told her not to. He looked visibly in pain, as if her words had sliced through his chest. “There’s too many reasons why we can’t do this. As much as I want to, we just…can’t.” 

He would get no more information out of her, he knew. So he accepted her answer with a curt nod of his head and released her wrist. He already missed the feeling of her skin. 

“I have a pretty good idea what some of those reasons are,” Azriel said. “But let me just say one thing.” And because he was a greedy bastard, he stepped forward and placed either of his hands on the sides of her neck, thumbs stroking her skin. Beneath her neck, he could feel the rapid thrum of her pulse. “If any of your reservations are because of…me…I need you to know I would never force you, never pressure you, to do anything. If anything ever happens between us, it will be on your terms, when you are ready.” 

Elain’s eyes flashed, Azriel’s face the depiction of wary. Full of conviction, she said, “None of those reasons are because of you, Azriel. Please never think that. I trust you with my body as much as I trust you with my life.” 

Azriel groaned, forehead bumping against hers. “Fuck, Elain. Tell me you understand I’d take care of you. Tell me you know that.” 

She nodded sheepishly. 

“No,” Instinctually, he gripped her chin between his fingers, never hard enough to cause pain. Only to keep her there with him just a bit longer. “Tell me.” 

She stood straighter, chest brushing against his own. Elain gauged the raw emotion in his eyes and said, “I know you would take care of me. In every way possible if I allowed you to.”

Azriel dipped his chin once, kissing her nose before breathing, “Good.” And because his mouth was just a hair's breadth away from her lips, and because the temptation to claim her was so strong, he pulled away and offered, “How about I take you home, yeah? You look like you’re going to pass out any minute.” 

Elain chuckled after stifling a well timed yawn. In her tipsy haze, she whispered, “Only if you promise to carry me to my bed if I fall asleep in the car.” 

And yes, Elain had fallen asleep within minutes of strapping her seatbelt. It took Azriel a moment to fish out her apartment key from her purse, but once he found it, he carefully maneuvered Elain out of his car, cradling her to his chest as he expertly unlocked the door. 

Even without the promise, he still would have carried her to bed anyway. The thought of changing her into something more comfortable infiltrated his mind, but he decided against it. He wasn't sure how she would feel in the morning if she knew he had seen her, if only for a brief moment, in a vulnerable state. 

So he laid her on the bed, peeling off her shoes before securing her under the puffy, white comforter blanket. After some rummaging in her bathroom cabinets, he found a pack of makeup remover wipes, and gingerly scrubbed her face. Even with all of the jostling, she remained fast asleep and as peaceful as a dove. 

Azriel knew he should’ve left right then, but he perched himself on the side of her bed and gently stroked her now makeup free cheek. He knew what this feeling meant inside his chest. The feeling he wanted to let erupt, but one he had to keep contained until she felt the same way. 

“You have my heart, Elain Archeron,” He whispered into the silent night, kissing her cheek before he stood from the bed. “I hope one day you let me into yours.” 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[sword-fighting-hermit]

Star-crossed [love]rs

“Apart, the lovers could neither live nor die, for it was life and death together”.

For @mortiscausa‘s March to Camelot.

[keeps-ache]

well, you can see it!

[her-canine-teeth]

sugar water by flower face

[orcelito]

Despite all odds, I have arrived home safely👍

Turns out that the earlier goop was the better goop. The adderall goop. The adderall has worn off now though. So I am. Very incredibly out of it.

But I am home. And I will take my quick shower. And then I will climb into bed.

I do need to eat. But... later...

[sysig]

The uh

The first play session went rather well

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[kimstills]

crazy

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: after one heated and spontaneous night together, aaron can’t seem to get his pretty subordinate (or her pussy) out of his head.

content warnings: smut, 18+, minors do not interact!, pussy!whipped hotch, age gaps, dirty talk, rough unprotected office sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving in the past), choking, hair pulling, ass slapping, groping, some angst if u squint, love confessions and some asshole behavior, hotch is a munch and masturbates in his office.

word count: 6.5k (yea…)

a/n: this may seem a lil out of character for hotch? we all know he’s a professional thru and thru but the point is this is that he’s pussy whipped! also lots of flashbacks in italics whoopsies <3

Aaron was sure he was going crazy.

Or maybe he already was, and he was just starting to feel the effects of his craziness.

Aaron Hotchner, usually poised in a way that unwillingly intimidated others and made them back away from him, was unraveling in a way he had never done so before.

Having a one-night stand with his subordinate, the same subordinate he had been harboring painfully arising feelings for literal years, often led to such a reaction.

He could still recount every single detail from that night, from the moment the tension between you both began building itself up to the moment it actually snapped. It was as if he had everything engraved in his mind; the views he never thought he'd get to see to the things he never thought he would get to feel etched into his brain.

It had all been a blur that night, and a part of Aaron still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you reciprocated his attraction towards you, letting him, not only touch you but also fuck you.

You two had stayed up late in your shared hotel room only to talk, really. After you and the rest of the team had wrapped up a somewhat good case, you only wanted to rant to one another. Aaron knew that you weren’t a ‘whiskey girl,’ or whatever it was that you said, but he had offered you a drink either way.

Neither one of you had even gotten tipsy, so he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. But the connection had always been there, though, one thing finally leading to another and all the unsaid words and stolen glances between you both began to surface.

It was as if everything you both silently felt for another was starting to seep through and everything that hindered you from telling each other no longer mattered.

It had felt so hot, from the way you held him close with your legs wrapped around his waist to the messy yet passionate kisses you shared, your bodies connected beneath.

It was everything Aaron envisioned it to be. But, as magical and heated as it was, he was the one to have ended things before they even had a chance at starting.

The morning after, as soon as you had both untangled your bodies from one another and got dressed to get back home to Quantico, he had done the stupidest thing imaginable.

“We shouldn’t do this again.”

You froze in your spot, half-way through tugging your pants up your legs. You blink at him from where he stood on the other side of the bed, already dressed, “This?”

“Yes.” Aaron says, voice awfully neutral.

You frown, jutting out your bottom lip that same way you did when you were thinking, “May I ask why?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’m your boss,” he gives you a pointed look, as if he had to remind you after fucking you dumb, “and you’re my subordinate. This goes against several workplace regulations and if anyone were to find out we could both lose our jobs.”

You’re quiet for several moments after that, and Aaron uses the silence to his advantage to prepare for any arguments you could be thinking of to use against him. He can’t seem to read you, though, your expression pensive as you stare at the floor.

Then you shrug. “Okay.” You say, simple and nonchalant.

Aaron watches as you continue finishing getting ready and he doesn’t know if he should ask if you were actually okay with it.

He decides that it’s for the best, not getting any pushback or having to argue on why he’s just subconsciously pushing you away after having one of the best nights of his life.

“Okay.” He repeats, giving you a small nod, even though you weren’t looking at him. With one last glance to your surprisingly calm figure, he finishes collecting the rest of his things and heads out of the room.

Even after the team had checked out of their hotel and settled onto the jet, you didn’t spare him a second glance. You hadn’t necessarily moved to ignoring him or silently lashing out, but it was as if everything went back to normal, with no mentions or glances back to that night.

That should be what was driving him crazy; the way he didn’t know if you were only calm because you were planning on going to the higher-ups, to HR, about what had happened. If you were secretly planning on putting him on blast out of anger or betrayal or telling him that he had coerced you to sleep with him and threatened you in case you didn’t.

No. What was driving him crazy was that he couldn’t get you out of his head, even after he broke things off.

Everything was engraved into his mind, from the sight of you on your knees, mouth full of his cock while you stared up at him with tear-pricked eyelashes and basked in his praises. Or the way your nails dug into his skin as he thrusted into you and the way you felt around him, all while he took pleasure in the sweet sounds he emitted from you every second.

He was going mad, and the already established feelings he had for you weren’t helping, either.

Aaron stared at you from inside his office, studied your features from afar whilst you sat on your desk. Your face was set in a neutral expression, flickering your attention from your computer screens to the physical files in front of you, but all he could see was the same face and person morphed into the one that had been withering in pleasure underneath him.

“Hotch…” you whine, a hand wrapped around his bicep as he dipped a finger inside your glistening pussy.

He watched as your back arched off the bed, throwing your head back against the pillows at the feeling of his thick digit inside you, “What, sweetheart?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue easily. “What do you need? Hm?”

Your hips stuttered as he inserted another finger, thrusting them in and out you, “Y-You. I want you. Inside me.” You peered at him through your fluttering lashes, your mascara smudged underneath your eyes from the tears that had slipped out while you were sucking his cock.

“Yeah?” His voice is filled with amusement and bewilderment, one part of him indulging in seeing you this way—all disheveled and needy for him—while the other was still stunned at the whole thing. “Want my cock inside you after you just had it in your mouth?”

You nod meekly at his words, a sweet pout adorning your flushed lips.

Despite the heat and tension that suffocated the room, Aaron’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. The way you were asking for him ever so bashfully after just giving him the best head of his life tugged at his heartstrings and made his cock twitch.

“Please,” you whisper, bucking your hips upwards. A stuttered gasp emits from your lips when you feel the tip of his dick prod at your sopping entrance, “Aaron…”

Aaron lets out a low, throaty groan at the sound of his first name mumbled in desperation, and he thinks back to all the times he’s thought about you like this. How many times he’s dreamed of having you underneath him, encaged by his broad figure and whining for him.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he says promisingly. He lifts himself to his full height on his knees, lining himself up with your entrance and holding onto the meat of your thigh. Another groan utters from the back of his throat, mixed in with your gasps and puffs of breath as he begins to sink inside you.

A knock on his office door forces Aaron to snap out of his train of thought. He looks down at himself, registering the painfully hard boner he was now sporting. Quickly, he scooted further into his desk so that the tent in his pants wouldn’t be visible by whoever was knocking on his door. Clearing his throat, he lets out a somewhat proper ‘come in.’

In walks Garcia, and Aaron doesn’t know if he should be thankful or mortified it was her out of all people.

“Sir?” She asks politely, files in hand and head tilted in an ever so Penelope manner. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

Right. It was barely nine in the morning and Aaron was already sporting a growing tent in his suit pants.

He nods, doing his best to feign being busy, “I’ll be there in five, Garcia.”

He wants to think he comes out as somewhat normal, but panic surges through him briefly when her expression turns into a curious one.

“Are you alright, sir?” She takes a step forward and Aaron has to hold himself back from screaming for her to stay where she is. “You look red and pale at the same time.”

He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively yet good-naturedly, “I’m fine. Jack is coming down with something and I think I might be, too.”

Great. Now he was using his innocent son as a scapegoat for his own horniness and bad decisions. Some father he was.

Garcia nods, looking convinced enough before bidding him a nod shuffling out of his office and closing the door behind her.

Aaron lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. His boner had softened the slightest bit, and he was conflicted in trying to make it go down completely or taking care of it right here and now. But the thought of having to face his team after fucking himself into his fist mortified him. Of seeing you, right after fucking himself into his fist to the thought of you after leaving you hanging coldly.

He opted out of it, though it took more than five minutes to settle himself before heading over to the conference room. Once again, he tried to play it as casual as possible while he walked to his seat with everyone staring expectantly at him, including you.

“Let’s get started.”

The team’s briefings went on as so, everyone presenting their perspective cases and discoveries within them. It was a bit easier to lose focus of what he was thinking earlier when the gory crime scenes showed up on the TV screen each time someone went up, but all focus was lost when it was your turn.

You stood from your seat, taking the control from Penelope’s hands and talking everyone through the case you were currently focusing on.

Aaron held his fist up to his face as he tried to focus on the details of the case instead of you and your entire being. Your hair whipped out and into your face each time you looked from the screen and back to the team. The top part of your dress twisted with each turn and motion you made, the bottom part of it creasing along with it. Was it a new dress?

Didn’t matter. It didn’t compare to the pajama shorts he had slowly, almost tauntingly, pulled down your legs before–

“...makes me think he’s keeping them in a secluded space. He obviously likes the control and the pleasure of having his victims’ screams and cries for help to himself, so I’ve advised police to search condemned and empty areas far away from the city and even on the outskirts of the town.” You finished with a nod and once again Aaron was snapped away from his unholy thoughts.

While everyone else added their own commentary and advice, Aaron realized he had been the only to have not said anything during your presentation, too preoccupied with you once more.

“Adding in the possibility of him keeping them outside of the main town the victims have been found in was a smart move,” He quickly added, trying his best to comment on what he had paid attention to. His breath hitched when you turned to look at him. “Law enforcement might have missed that and can collaborate with police from the next town over. Good job.”

You smiled softly and nodded in appreciation, “Thank you.”

Fuck. How were you so nonchalant about this? Aaron’s mind wandered back to the probability of you getting back at him by going to Strauss about your rendezvous. It was only early morning Monday, the first day back in the office after said events, so it wasn’t a surprise he hadn’t heard anything from her. Yet.

He nodded back in response, though, casting his gaze downwards and collecting his things, “Great. I expect everyone’s reports to be on my desk by tonight, please.”

Everyone stood from their seats, shuffling out of the room with mumbled conversations. Aaron held back, taking his time in looking through his files and stacking them together while you did the same, leaving the two of you alone once everyone else had gone.

He wanted to say something, gather the courage to ask you something. Anything, just to make sure you were alright. If the two of you were still right, in spite of everything.

Only when you finished collecting things did he bring himself to open his mouth, a soft utterance of your name to get your attention.

You stopped in your tracks, a good couple feet away from him and the door. You stared at him, waiting for him to speak with a neutral expression on your face.

Not one of annoyance or irritation. Just expectant.

God, you really were driving him crazy.

You raised a brow when he didn’t say anything, “…Yes?”

He clears his throat again before asking, “Is everything okay?”

You blink and tilt your head, dumbfounded, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Aaron grips at his files, guilt consuming him all over again. “With us,” he clarifies, swallowing harshly. “Is everything okay with us?”

You blink a couple more times, eyes wandering to the side as if you’re trying to catch onto what he’s implying.

It makes his heart churn.

“Oh.” You finally say, meeting his gaze. “Yes. We both agreed, no? To what you said.”

Aaron can’t decipher if the smile you give him is genuine or jeering, and he can’t tell if what you say last is clarifying as his answer or if it’s something underlyingly petty.

Either way it’s something. You’ve given him something and he’ll take it.

He nods finally, “Yes, we did.”

You shrug, smiling a bit wider this time, “All good then.”

He gives another curt nod, stepping to the side so you could exit the room. He moves to follow behind you, but he gets a whiff of your perfume as soon as you brush past him. The scent makes him halt and he has to hold onto one of the back posts of a chair to stabilize himself.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the remnants that linger behind you for a moment.

He truly was going crazy.

The rest of the day goes by the same and hardly any work gets done on Aaron’s end. He’d scribble whatever he needed to write down or fill out then get distracted by the void of you.

It was getting impossible for him to keep working with the relentless problem that was his ongoing boner. He was tucked into his desk all the way yet it hurt whenever he leaned forward or backwards while moving around. Oftentimes he tried to give himself some sort of relief by running a hand over himself, but it didn’t help much, and the dirty thoughts about you certainly didn’t either.

The sounds that filled the room were lewd, your gags and moans from below mixed in with Aaron’s grunts and words of encouragement echoing off the hotel room’s walls. His large hand was entangled in your hair, pushing your head forward to take more of him, as if your jaw wasn’t aching enough already.

Though there wasn’t a way for him to tell, really. You gave no sign or indication that you wanted him to stop, your tongue swiping at the head of his cock each time he dipped your head even more. Saliva pooled from your tongue and leaked from your mouth, dripping into the carpeted floor and entailing a trail from your lips to your chin.

Aaron’s head was thrown back in utter pleasure and astonishment, bewildered that you’d ever be doing this to him. He didn’t want to finish before you, but it was taking everything him to not give in and fuck your face the way he truly desired.

He’d never received head this good, nor had he received it much recently. His legs were spread with you settled in between them contently. “That’s it sweetheart,” he mumbled, brushing fallen strands of hair out of your face lovingly. “Taking me so good, such a good girl.”

His praises only edged you on even further, bobbing your head up and down a couple more times before pulling off of him with a slick ‘pop!’ You rest your head on his thigh in an attempt to catch your breath, a shaky, stuttered sigh heaving from your chest as your hand comes up to continue the rest of your work.

Aaron has to run a hand over his face to try and keep his composure, his nails digging into the skin of his palm albeit their short length. He throws his head back against his chair, a grunt threatening to emit from his throat as he coercively runs his hand over his boner.

At least he wishes he can say it’s coercively, really it’s just a tainted image of you he’s embedded in his own dirty mind.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to give in and reach inside his pants, sparing another careful glance to his now locked office door before springing his painfully hard cock free. A low, pleased grunt spills from his pursed lips as he wraps his hand around himself. He gives his length a good tug, bucking his hips up instantaneously, the same way he did when you first wrapped your mouth around him.

Still, as cautiously and quietly as possible, he begins to stroke at his length, a hand covering his mouth as he continues to dart his eyes from below himself to his door–as if anyone would walk in at any second and catch him jerking himself off in his own government-issued office.

He begins to imagine that his fist is you. That you’re sitting in the space between his legs with your hot mouth licking long stripes up his length and that your hand is toying with his balls the same way you did before. It only makes him pump at his fist even faster, the hand that was covering his mouth shooting down to the armrest of his chair, gripping at the cushioned leather as he began to reach his high.

“Fuck, Hotch, fuck!” Your whines are eccentric, head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your legs wrap around Aaron’s waist, pulling him closer to you as he continues to thrust into your sopping pussy.

Aaron groans loudly, silently thanking that his and yours room was placed further down the hall from everyone else’s. His hands rest at the bottom of your thighs, his large hand gripping the flesh for support as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your pussy grips him like a vice and your nails dig into the skin of his biceps from where you hold him.

His sight is focused on you only, the way your tits bounce with each thrust and the way your mouth is curled into a wide ‘o’ from the pleasure you’re receiving.

“So good for me, baby,” he mumbles, hand coming down to grab at your breast, squeezing possessively before leaning down to crash his lips against yours hungrily.

You whine through the kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging while your other hand scratches at his back. A string of saliva connects at your lips when he pulls away, his head dipping down to kiss and suck at your neck while he grabs your hips to better pistol himself inside you.

A moan echoes through the room again and straight to his ear, your back arching into his chest, “Feels so good, Aaron, so good!”

Aaron’s release sputters everywhere messily and he has to bite at his fist to stop himself from groaning loudly. His come spills onto parts of his leg, his desk, and even onto the floor. He leans back into his chair, trying to contain himself and his heaving chest.

He takes a look at the mess he created–the mess you unknowingly entailed from him. Like clockwork, the paranoia and guilt from doing this begins to seep in and he’s quick to snatch a handful of tissues from the box he kept on the corner of his desk to clean himself up. He tucks himself back into his pants then moves to clean at his desk and his floor.

Clearly, he hadn’t known what he was thinking. Not when it came to calling things off between the two of you before they even happened and certainly not now after he realized the spell he was currently in.

The last hour of the work day comes by agonizingly slowly. After his little session, Aaron finds it a little bit easier to get the rest of his work done (key word: a little bit). The rest of the members all begin to spill into his office to hand in their finished paperwork and files, all of them sparing him brief glances of curiosity and concern–the same way Garcia had done earlier–before bidding him goodnight and leaving.

The only one that hasn’t come to hand in anything was you. He knew you were still here, he could see you sitting at your desk from the view through his blinds, scribbling away casually like you had been doing so the whole day. After you had stalled to follow behind the rest of your co-workers, Aaron had gotten up from his desk and pretended to be walking around his office with a file in hand, lifting his head every few minutes to see if you were ever making your way towards him to turn in your work.

He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. If you were secretly being tortured by the recollections of your hook-up, too, or if you truly didn’t care about him basically dumping you after having sex with you and telling you that it could never happen again due to your perspective titles.

With a defeated sigh, he closes the file he was still pretending to read. His eyes instinctively travel back to where your desk was at and his breath immediately catches in his throat when he sees that you aren’t there. He hears the sound of footsteps approaching closer and closer through the staircase that leads up to his office and you walk in soon after.

You freeze in the doorway when you see that he’s already staring at you. Your eyes flicker to a space behind him then back at him before you take a tentative step back and glance at the clock hung on the wall facing his desk, “Uh, is this a bad time?”

“No!” Aaron takes a step forward when you take another one back. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, no, it’s not. I didn’t know you were still here. Everyone else left almost half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” you glance back behind you to the rest of the bullpen before looking back at him. “I was just finishing up the reports you said you wanted done by the end of today.” You jut your chin toward the stack of files you were carrying in one arm.

“Right.” He clears his throat, motioning to the pile of files the rest of the team had stacked on his desk. “You can just leave them there.”

You nod, giving him a small smile.

He watches as you walk over to his desk, taking in your appearance while you double-check that everything was correct. He swallowed harshly, taking in the way your skirt hugged your lower figure perfectly the same way it did during the morning debriefing. Your hair flows ever so slightly and he takes in a good look at your side profile when you tuck a loose strand behind your ears while you continue to flip through the pages of your file.

You’re breathtakingly gorgeous and Aaron doesn’t know if what suddenly makes him start walking up behind you is from what he’s felt since sleeping with you or if it’s everything he’s felt since way before that.

You halt your movements when you feel his presence directly behind you, gasping when you turn and find how close he was standing.

“Hotch–” you gulp, heat blooming through your cheeks albeit feeling confused. “W-What are you doing?”

Aaron takes in your tone and he can tell that you’re not asking in a disgusted, annoyed way, more so in a flustered way. He lifts a hand to brush the hair that frames your face past your face but doesn’t actually move to do it, keeping it there to see if you push him away. But you don’t. So he brushes it away.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” He mumbles, eyes boring into the side of your face as you stare up at him as best as you can from your practically rigid figure.

You scoff, a sound filled with so much humor yet so little at the same time, “You were the one that said this couldn’t happen again.” You twist your head, trying to turn your body around more with the way he had you pressed against the front of his desk.

“That was a mistake,” he whispers. He dips his head so that his mouth is by your ear, watching you shiver from the proximity.

“A mistake?” You repeat, brows raised. You lull your head to the side but you don’t know if you do it to get away from him or to grant him access to your neck.

Aaron takes it as the latter and hovers his lips over your skin, the same spot where he had left splotches of pink and purple last time.

“Yes,” he confirms, “a mistake.”

You want to ask why he said it then, want to press him for answers but you can’t when his hot breath sends shivers down your spine and arms. Your legs go weak when he brings a hand around you to wrap at your middle, big hand splayed across your stomach to pull you in even closer, if possible.

“H-Hotch,” you clear your throat. “We can’t. You said so yourself.” You roll your shoulders back in a weak effort to push him away, but all he does is hold you tighter.

“I was wrong,” he mutters, pressing a feather-light kiss to the very side of your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of your perfume again and letting out a pleased hum from the back of his throat. “I was so wrong.”

You gasp when he flings an arm out in front of you, proceeding to knock over the multiple things from his desk. Files, pens, and other trinkets fly off the hard wood and land on the floor with a loud crash. Aaron spins you around before you can process the whole mess, turning you around so that you were facing him.

“Aaron-!” Your mind is a whirlwind as he grabs at your hips and easily sets you down on the edge of the desk. His lips crash onto yours messily and you hum, satisfied.

The kiss quickly becomes sloppy and hungry, muffled whines as you two practically devour one another. Your hands wrap around his neck while his own roam your body, curious hands searching for the zipper of your dress and bunching up the fabric in the process. You mewl when he finally finds it and slowly tugs it down. You break apart from the kiss in order to help him, scrambling from side to side so that it comes off from under you.

Aaron lets out a groan at the sight of you as he tosses the dress to the side. You’re wearing a matching set: a lacy white bra that cups your breasts gorgeously and a lacy white thong paired with it. It takes everything in him to not come undone right then and there.

Holding your gaze, Aaron sinks to his knees, shrugging off his suit jacket as he kneels before you.

“Aaron…”

He immediately shushes you, discarding the jacket somewhere next to your dress on his office floor. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Instead of obeying, you knock your knees together bashfully, the fat of your thighs pressing against each other.

Aaron’s eyes darken at your shy defiance. “I said spread your legs.” His hands come out to grab behind your knees and you gasp again when he spreads them apart forcefully, large hands holding them in place.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he utters, gaze locked on your soaked panties. His palms slide down your legs, eyes flickering back up at you as he begins to kiss at your calves. Each peck to your skin leaves a wet trail from your earlier kiss and you whine in anticipation as he makes his way up before coming face to face with your pussy. His fingers hook themselves inside the thin fabric and you immediately get the message, lifting your hips once more so he could slide them down your legs

Aaron swiftly shoves the wet material into his pockets, wasting no time before diving straight in and burying his head in between your thighs.

His tongue swiping at your folds elicits a loud moan from you, your hands shooting out to grab at his head, “Aaron!” You yell out, fingers tangling in his hair to stabilize yourself from the suddenness.

Aaron grunts from below you, the sound sending vibrations up your body and causing you to arch into his touch. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of tasting you that night in the hotel room, too preoccupied with the pleasure he had received from you. But–dare he say–this was better than head, better than anything else he had ever gotten, tasted or even done. He wasn’t even a minute into devouring you and he had already decided that this was the best pussy he had ever had in his whole life.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this pussy.” He lapped at your juices, mouth hot on your dripping cunt. His hands continued to grip at your thighs, large palms still keeping you in place from where you were writhing in pleasure.

“A-Aaron,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his face. “Please, I need you. Need you so bad.”

Your head was thrown back in utter bliss, hips stuttering with each nibble at your clit. Your fingers tugged his face closer despite the longing you had to feel him inside you, caging his head to keep him there.

Aaron couldn’t help but bask in the sounds he was pulling from you. It was as if his mouth had a mind of his own and all it could focus on was licking up every single one of your juices, the taste nearly intoxicating. He flickered his eyes up to you, taking in the way your chest heaved and your breasts pushed against the cups of your bra, practically spilling out.

Without removing his tongue from your pussy, he reaches behind you and easily undoes the hooks.

You let the straps fall from your shoulders and aid him in tossing it somewhere in the room along with your dress. Desperately, you reach for Aaron’s hands and place them on your breasts, groaning when he rolls each already hard and sensitive nipple in between your fingers.

Your legs begin to shake and you’re quick to wrap them around Aaron’s head, the heels of your feet digging into his muscular back. “Mm, fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you toss your head back as the coil in your belly threatens to snap.

“Yeah?” He teases, angling his head so that he could spit onto your cunt, all before diving right back in and swirling it together with your arousal. “You gonna cum on my mouth, honey?”

You nod, feverishly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Go ahead, pretty,” Aaron ushers, voice deep and rough from his non stop nibbling and sucking. “Come on my mouth, sweetheart.”

A certain bite on your clit immediately has you seeing stars and the office is soon filled with your cries of ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you violently. Your body shakes and stutters as you ride out the high on his face, leaning backwards until your back was resting against his desk.

Aaron doesn’t relent even as you begin to come down from your high, enhancing the way your legs shook from where they were wrapped around him.

“No, n-no more, Aaron, p-please,” you begged, keeping your back on the desk while weakly attempting to push him away.

“Just one more, honey. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

You don’t get the chance to answer, back arching off the desk as his fingers prodded at your entrance briefly before he shoved two inside. A high-pitched moan emitted from your swollen lips and your hips rutted against his face once more as he scissored the thick digits inside your gummy walls.

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it,” Aaron’s sultry words only encouraged you further, his face wet with your arousal and the release of your first orgasm. “I’m gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. But first you gotta give me another one.”

His thumb came up alongside his mouth to rub rough circles on your already sensitive, swollen clit and you immediately felt that coil snap once more, mixing in with the first orgasm you hadn’t even properly come down from.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron!” You mumbled dumbly, mouth agape and head hanging back from the desk as you rode out your second high on his face, the heavy wood shaking with every motion.

Aaron’s head was buried even further in between your legs, lips trying to catch every single drop that leaked from your hole, pulling out your fingers and cleaning them with a swirl from his tongue. He delivered a sweet kiss to your folds before standing, his knees cracking in response to being kneeled on the ground for so long.

He leans over, bringing a guiding hand to the back of your neck to get you to sit up, “You good, honey?” Aaron asks, brushing away the stray hands of hair that had stuck to your face. “Still with me?”

You hum, nodding weakly, “Need you, Aaron.”

Aaron chuckles at your fucked-out form, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “I got you, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”

You stand on wobbly legs and do as he says blindly, the need to have him inside you outshining your nearing overstimulation. You feel yourself salivate as the sound of him undoing his belt is heard from behind you and you look back to watch him pull himself out from his boxers.

He hears you gasp when his cock springs out and hits against his stomach, tip an angry red and leaking with precome. He wraps a hand around himself and groans at how painfully hard he was. He quickly lines himself up with your entrance, slapping his length against your dripping folds before easing himself inside little by little.

You whine from in front of him when he bottoms out, the tip of his dick easily hitting your sweet spot the same way it did before in the hotel. This time, though, it feels even better with how wet you already were, his cock glistening when he pulls out before shoving himself back in roughly.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to set a brutal pace, hands on your hips as he begins to pound into you from behind ruthlessly, a stark contrast from the way he had asked you if you were okay.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how crazy you’ve driven me since I first fucked this pretty pussy,” Aaron grunted form behind, fingers digging so hard into your hips he was sure there would be an imprint there. “Had to get myself off in my own office, that’s how crazy you had me going.”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your mouth is wide open, small huffs the only noise you can make while a line of saliva drools from your tongue. It’s only when you feel him wrap your hair in his hand and pull your back flush against his chest that you squeal, the angle pushing his cock further inside you.

“You like that, pretty?” He asks deeply, voice hoarse and gravely as he continues to pound into your pussy, the squelching that comes from beneath scandalous. “Like getting this pussy fucked by me, huh?”

You nod dumbly, too fucked out to properly answer him. A harsh slap against your ass makes you cry out, the sting somewhat snapping you back to reality.

“Answer me,” Aaron commands, tugging at your hair and making your back arch even further against him. “Did I fuck you dumb like last time?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, legs shaking even in your standing position. “I l-love it, Aaron. Feels so g-good.”

He chuckles against your ear, the way you could barely register his questions only making him quicken his pace, “You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Gonna give me one more wrapped around me?”

You nod with as much fervor as possible, “Yes, y-yes, can I, Aaron? Want you to c-cum inside me, please.”

“Yeah? Want me to stuff you full of my cum?” He asks. He doesn’t bother to correct you when you don’t answer, instead snaking his hand to your front and down to your pussy.

The feel of him rubbing circles on your clit is the final push you need before you’re clenching around him, body trembling against him as he continues his assault on your swollen bud.

It doesn’t take long for Aaron to spill his own release inside you, giving you a couple more shallow thrusts as he comes down from his own high.

You whine when you feel him pull out, a string of your mixed releases following suit on the tip of his cock.

“So good, baby,” he praises, wrapping a hand around your neck gently and pressing soothing kisses on your cheek. “Did so good for me.”

You lean your head against his shoulder as he reaches for some tissues to clean you up, “So I guess we’re definitely doing this again?”

Aaron laughs, a pink adorning his cheeks, “Yes. Yes, we are. In fact, I’m telling everyone to work from home tomorrow so I can take you on a proper date. I’m not risking going crazy again.”

You suppress a giggle, “You went crazy? Over my pussy?”

He sighs, “If only you knew.”

[sacredglitch]

as a great villan once said; "I can finally leave...Oh-sweetie, I'm coming home"

i too can finally leave and eep until I'm back in the fucking building of feels later

for now, I live in bliss and breathe it so

[stxrslut]

WAITING FOR YOU ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing; rafe x sweetie reader

summary; rafe has been neglecting you recently, putting his work before all, you haven’t had any attention for yourself. you finally reach a breaking point on the night where you prepare everything, make everything perfect, and he doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

content; emotional neglect(?), argument

authors note; decided to rewrite an old blurb. I’m really happy with how it turned out

tonight will be perfect, you’re sure of it. ever since rafe had taken on more responsibilities at work you had been pushed to the sidelines a little, but tonight you can’t wait to be his centre of attention. 

you have everything ready, you’ve made a lovely meal and set it out on a candlelit table with his favourite bottle of wine ready to open. 

you’re dressed up too. a cute little dress on, and underneath some even cuter lingerie. your makeup is done nicely, all waterproof of course, if all goes to plan, you expect to be in floods of blissful tears by the end of the night.

you hear rafe come through the front door just as you add your final touches to the dinner table. you immediately stand up and scurry down the hallway to meet him. 

“good evening rafe,” you beam, ready to see him, though your smile falls a bit when you come into contact with him. 

he’s got an armful of paperwork and he looks run down, like has constantly for weeks now. you push past it though, this night is going to be good for him too, he needs the break. 

“hey sweetheart,” he mumbles absently, immediately making it clear that his mind is on other matters, “look, can you give me like half an hour? just got somethin’ I need to sort out real quick.” he doesn't even wait for an answer, he's already making to climb the stairs towards his office.

you stop him of course, placing a hand on his arm. “wait, I made dinner, it'll go cold.” you feel crestfallen, sure you knew he'd want to work, but right in the door? he didn't even take a moment to look at how nicely dressed up you are.

rafe stops and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose he speaks in mild frustration, “yeah, yeah I'll eat with you okay? but then I do really have to work.” 

you nod, leading him towards the kitchen where the table is set. you pull out a chair, urging him to sit and he does, watching you idly as you walk round and take your own place. “I made your favourite,” you beam. in honesty, making his favourite isn't that much of a feat, he's a very basic eater. but it's the thought that counts. 

it's a quiet meal. rafe doesn't pay that much attention, only giving absent and short answers to the questions you ask. his day was fine. work was fine. his plans are to do work stuff. he's feeling fine. the meal is fine. if he could have bothered to ask, you would have told him that you are not fine with any of those answers. it's like he doesn't care that you did this for him. 

the moment he’s finished he rises, scratching the back of his neck he speaks, “I gotta go.. do some admin.. food was good.” 

“rafe wait…” you stop him from where you still sit at the table. you’ve not even finished your food yet and he’s already leaving. “I thought that we could maybe go upstairs.. spend some time together.” you make it so obvious in your tone as to what you’re suggesting. 

he sighs, “maybe later okay? maybe later.” and just like that he’s walking away, just like he has been doing for weeks on end. 

                               *

later, you are laying on your bed, half asleep, waiting for him.

the candle on the bedside table is almost burned out, it’s ugly now. you are undressed, still putting up with the uncomfortable underwear on your body, just so you can look good when he comes in.

it must be nearly eleven o’clock at night when you finally hear his footsteps coming down the hallway. you quickly do your best to wake yourself up and reassume the position you were laying in before. 

when rafe comes through the door he stops, looking a little stunned, “why aren't you asleep?” he asks bluntly. that certainly wasn't what you were expecting. not even a little bit of praise, not a thirsty look, nothing. 

“are you serious?” you sit up, now you’re frustrated. he’s been pushing you aside for so long, and he can’t even acknowledge what you’re doing for him. 

“what do you mean, am I serious? what the fuck is all this?” he gestures to the room, the lowered lights, the candle, you. 

“it’s for you.” you frown, “I thought you’d want- I thought you would like this. I thought you’d be happy.” 

“baby I didn’t ask you to do any of this.” he says crossly, “I have other things to focus on.. I- I’ve got work! I don’t have time for this.” 

this is your breaking point, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, “you never have time for this. that’s the problem.”

his eyes land on you, “problem? you have a problem? I’m a grown man now, I have responsibilities.. I have to make priorities.”

“well they’re wrong! your priorities are wrong!” you snap, sitting up on the bed to lock eyes with him, “I should be a priority. but— but you’ve just been pushing me away all because of work! we haven’t had sex in weeks and.. and you barely talk to me anymore!” you start to rant, “I’ve put so much effort into making tonight perfect and you haven’t even bothered to thank me! I’m tired, and I want to spend time with you. I miss you rafe!” 

It’s silent for a few seconds before he lets out a weary sigh, “that’s what all this is about huh? I’m neglecting you.” 

you sniffle pitifully, “that’s not what I said.” 

he shakes his head and comes to sit down on the bed with you, “what you meant though,” he looks down at his lap for a moment before patting his leg, “c’mere.” 

you reluctantly crawl into his lap, resting your messy cheek on his covered chest. he starts to speak again, “I’m sorry. I.. I will admit that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you.. okay.. I’ll change that. promise.” 

part of you wants to snap again and say ‘see! how easy was that to admit! why did it take you so fucking long!?” 

you don’t snap though, you don’t have the energy. instead you murmur and go closer to him, “m’sorry for gettin’ mad at you rafe.” 

he shakes his head, “just missed me, I know.” he rubs your back, before pulling you to face him. “hey.. think it would be a bit of a shame for you to have got this dressed up for nothin’ huh?”

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Tribe X Reader

Requests are open!

• You were a camera woman for discovery channel. You loved your job. After all you get to travel world with your crew, see and explore the most interesting wonders, and get paid to shoot all of that in camera. What more can you ask for? Yeah your love life sucked because you were never at a one place for long. But who cares? You have your camera and your passion.

• Your crew has been assigned to shoot a new show by channel which is showing and telling people about the tribal life and community of an x forest. You were excited.

• You shooted and captured all the things about the tribal community. The people were friendly once they warmed up to your team. They showed and told you everything about their community, about forest, their lifestyle through a member of yours who knew their language and translated everything.

• You got to know about many tribal traditions, rituals, festive, their beliefs, their worships, hunting, farming style but what caught your attention was a certain tall, muscular young tribe man.

• He would always be with your crew even if he is not needed. You were shooting a particular episode on the womens in tribe? He was still there silently just observing you all especially you in a way you didn't notice.

• Your crew tried fishing for some fun in break time. And as usual your clumsy self would trip and ruin everything embarassing yourself. He would later leave a basket full of fish for you silently.

• You noticed that he was kinda good looking. Okay not kinda but a lot good looking with his huge built, dark black tribal tattoos covering his tan arms and chest, his sharp bone jewellery giving all Tarzan vibes with his long black hair tied in half bun that many women in community wished to be his mate. Also because he was a excellent hunter.

• You once told someone in community casually that you wished to taste raw natural honey from honeycombs like other tribals but were scared due to honeybees and he heard it. Well next day he gives you a huge piece of honeycomb anonymously ,freshly teared by him even though it caused him serval stinks from honey bee because this was not the season to collect honey but he would do anything for you.

• Their community had a practice where once in a year men would wear their best dresses, jewellery trying to impress womens and get their attention. This was a special episode that you weren't shooting but the other cameraman was doing because you were on the other side of forest with a few crew members shooting some shots of forest for another episode as your time of departure were close and you have to finish your work fast.

• You finished your shots. And walked a bit around the forest a little more to explore while your fellow mates moved back to see the celebration.

• You saw yan tribe sitting all alone under a tree. You felt sad seeing him all alone like this instead of being in the celebration with others. Well might be the women whose attention he is trying to grab chose someone else in competition you thought.

You tried to console him by speaking in your broken fluency in their tribe language which you have learned by staying with them for months. You were scared that you might have said something offensive to him unconsciously due to the language barrier because his expressions didn't change but became serious.

He only looked up at you and held your hand in his and said "MATE". You knew your speaking and listening skills towards his language were below average but you were 101% sure what mate word that he said means. And that scared you to dead because seeing his big strong hand holding your fragile one tightly made it clear that he is not going to let you leave at any cost.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

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