#that would be a goddamn nightmare to explain

[thetrekkiehasthephonebox]

I have been in for-profit health insurance hell for months now and I feel like all the progress I'd made in not feeling ashamed has been fucking erased because I keep having to explain to strangers with no medical training what is wrong with my mind and body over and over and over again

[unreliablesnake]

Is it too soon? (Simon Riley x f!reader)

Summary: Simon meets you at a cemetery by accident, but by the time you go on your first date, he already knows this will be something serious.

Length: 3.9k words

Note: Simon falls fast and falls hard. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Simon couldn’t believe that it had already been a year since he lost his family. The nightmares were still there to remind him of that period of his life each night, but somehow he got almost used to having them. Being on mission after mission probably helped him get over the pain quite fast, but returning home was always a hard moment. It always brought back the bad memories that then poisoned his mind for the next few days.

Today he came to the cemetery to leave a few fresh flowers at the graves, hoping it could make him come to terms with how things turned out this year. It was only the first anniversary, but he was already three months late because of the mission he’d been on. Shit happens, he knew that, but it still hurt to know he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

“Excuse me,” he heard a thin voice from somewhere behind him. When he turned around with a cocked eyebrow, his eyes landed on you, this sad-looking but otherwise gorgeous young woman. He gulped, but didn’t say anything, only waited for you to say what you wanted. “You dropped your earbuds when you tried to put them in your pocket.”

He looked down at your extended hand that held his earbuds just as you said. “Thanks,” was all he managed to say.

Hesitantly, but he eventually reached out to take them from you, and he could’ve sworn there was a spark when his fingers touched your soft skin. It was bad, he shouldn’t pick up a woman in a goddamn cemetery, but he couldn’t let you go. Something told him you were special, that there could be something between the two of you. So he cleared his throat as he shoved the earbuds into his pockets–this time double checking to make sure they were safe–and let his eyes lock with yours for the first time since you had spoken to him.

“Are you on your way out or have you just arrived?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I’m on my way out. I guess you’ve just arrived,” you said with a small smile, earning a surprised look from the soldier. “The flowers. I’m sure you didn’t come here to steal them.”

Simon looked down at the small bouquet in his hands. “You’re correct. I know it probably sounds creepy in a place like this, but would you walk with me to the graves I’m here to visit?” he asked you.

Like a curious puppy, you tilted your head to the side as you watched him. He felt like running away without a word, hiding somewhere while you left the premises. But in the end you flashed a delicate smile at him and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you began to walk, and the silence that fell between the two of you was strangely comfortable. Just having you around calmed him down. Even when he stopped in front of his family’s grave, you just stood there next to him and waited patiently for him to be the first one to speak up. As he put the flowers on the headstone, he wondered what to say. He asked you to join him, but he didn’t think this far ahead.

When he looked over at you, he noticed that you were reading the text on the headstone. “My entire family is here. They died a bit over a year ago,” he explained without you asking anything.

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “Accident?”

What was he supposed to say? The truth? That would just scare you away. But he didn’t want to begin whatever this could be with a lie, so he decided to tell you some of what happened. “No, they were murdered,” he said quietly.

This clearly piqued your interest, but you decided not to intrude his privacy. Simon felt his emotions slowly take over, and the tears began to gather in his eyes as he remembered the day of his brother’s wedding. You probably noticed, because soon you reached out to take his hand in yours, fingers curling around his in the most gentle way.

After a good three minutes of silence, he took a deep breath, then turned to you with a weak smile. “Thanks for being here with me.”

The two of you left the cemetery in another round of comfortable silence, but only when you stepped outside to the street did the cloud over his brain lift. He hadn’t even asked for your name, and you joined him without knowing his. He could be a serial killer for all you knew, yet you agreed to be by his side without a question.

Simon drew circles on your hand with his thumb while he watched you with an intrigued look on his face. How could a cute girl like you be so trusting in this world? He wondered how many people had taken advantage of your naivety before, but he sure wasn’t about to be one of them.

“I’m Simon, by the way,” he finally introduced himself.

You flashed a smile at him before telling him your name. A cute girl with an equally cute name. He couldn’t hide the grin that wanted to creep on his face, and for the first time in months he felt like going on a date with someone. With you, to be specific. He looked down at your hand that was still holding his, wondering why you hadn’t let go of it yet. There was something about you that he just couldn’t describe, no matter how hard he tried to find the right words in his mind. Special didn’t cut it. It wasn’t a good enough word to describe what he felt.

In the end it was him who pulled away his hand to take his phone from his pocket, only to unlock the screen and tap on the add a new contact icon before handing it to you. “Can I get your number?”

This was a long shot, he knew it. You probably just took pity on him, so you weren’t truly interested in him. But then you took the device and typed in the details. Once you were done, you started a call to yourself and gave the phone back to him. “Now you know it’s my real number,” you said with an adorable chuckle. “Do you want to drink a cup of coffee or something?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, if you’re free.”

All of his plans for today had been sitting on the couch and watching some TV, maybe calling Price to see if he needed any help so he wouldn’t be alone at home. Being in the company of another human being might help him forget about his late family members, and the fact this other human was a woman like you was just the cherry on top.

So he agreed, and the two of you got in his car and drove to a café you suggested. What quickly became obvious was the lack of flirting from your part, which made him wonder if you even considered this whole thing a date. It made him sad, actually; the possibility of him misreading the situation was mortifying. How could he be so out of practice?

After an agonizing two hours that passed with a pleasant but definitely not flirtatious conversation, the two of you said goodbye and he finally headed home. He should have cooked something for himself, but in the end he decided to order from a nearby restaurant instead and watch some dumb romcom to turn off his brain for a while.

The next day passed slowly with chores around the apartment and some grocery shopping, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He expected it to be Price, telling him it was time for another mission, or Johnny, who would send him some meme without context. But when he glanced at the screen, he saw it was you who messaged him.

You: Feeling better today?

A smile crept on Simon’s lips as he read the short text. Even if it wouldn’t be a romantic relationship, he might have just gained a new friend.

Simon: Yeah, thanks. What about you?

You: I’m good. Enjoying my week off. Do you have plans for tonight? We could hang out.

He had to stop and think about the answer. If neither of you worked that day, you could have met in the afternoon. But you wanted to meet in the evening. His delusional side told him you just asked him out, but his rational side reminded him that you had sent absolutely no signals that would prove you were interested in him in this sense.

You: Sorry if I seem a little pushy.

Simon: No, it’s not that, I just took a quick call.

A lie. Great start.

You: So how about tonight then?

Simon: Maybe we could watch a movie?

You: Sounds good to me.

Simon: Pick a movie and tell me where to meet. Or I can pick you up at home.

You: Okay :)

God, how he wished it was a date. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on one. And you were so good to him, he was sure you would be a great girlfriend. Hell, you were a great wife material. But he fantasized about something he might never get, so it was only good for torturing his heart.

Once he got home, he went straight to his closet to figure out what to wear. He didn’t want to be too formal, but he didn’t want to be too casual either. He had to find the middle ground, something that would grab your attention, but wouldn’t scream ‘I’m desperate, please, look at me’ either.

After half an hour he gave up and called Johnny. “Hey, so I need advice, and I know for a fact you go on quite a few dates when you’re not on a mission,” he said into the phone.

The sergeant sounded a little offended when he let out a dry laugh. “You make me sound like I was a manwhore. But I’ll overlook that for now. What do you need help with?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to wear when I’m meeting a woman but it’s not a date?” he asked.

“But you wish it was a date,” was all the younger man said, probably having a wide grin on his face.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. That was on him. He brought this on himself when he called his only proper friend. “That’s beside the point, Johnny,” he replied.

But he wasn’t about to let go of this topic. “No, no, no, it matters. You see, if you dress right, if you act right, you might be able to turn this into a real date.”

“I’m listening,” the lieutenant said with a sigh.

He could imagine the sergeant sitting down and leaning back with his free hand resting on the back of his neck as he took his time to enjoy the chance to teach his superior something new, something he could tease him with on their next mission. But it was a risk he was willing to take, after all he needed all the help he could get. He didn’t really know why, but he truly wanted you to change your mind and see him as a possible boyfriend. It was pathetic, that one he knew, but this was the truth. You’ve been on his mind ever since you said goodbye the day before, and he didn’t even want to forget about you.

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny began, keeping his voice down as if he was telling him a secret. And maybe this was a real secret, the trick he used to get the girls he was chasing, and Simon became a member of a possibly very tiny circle that knew about this. He was honestly grateful for the advice, and even made a mental note to go easy on him the next time they met.

With all the information he had gathered from Johnny, Simon could barely sleep that night. All he could think about was possibly fucking up things with you, that maybe he shouldn’t follow this plan, but then he realized that he didn’t have better ideas. His brain froze from the mere thought of talking to you again, as if he was back in high school when he was too traumatized by his family issues to think he was good enough for someone.

The next day he often had his phone in his hand, ready to open the messaging app and send you a text to cancel. Other times he just wanted to ask you how you were, if you were still willing to meet him tonight. His head was a mess, and he was honestly grateful that he wasn’t on a mission right now. He couldn’t focus, he wasn’t sure about anything, and if he was in a situation where his life was on the line, he would definitely be dead by now.

“Get it together, dammit,” he mumbled to himself as he collected his keys and opened the front door in the evening as he was leaving.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and before he glanced at the screen, he expected it to be a supportive or teasing text from Johnny. It could be either of those, he never knew with him. But his heart stopped for a second when he saw it was from you. You probably wanted to cancel at the last minute.

You: I might be a few minutes late. But I’ll be there before the movie begins, I promise!!!

So you were coming. He wrote a simple okay, afraid to write more than that. He didn’t want to sound desperate, even though he was truly desperate at the moment. He could only hope Johnny’s plan would work and he could turn this into a date, because there was nothing he wanted more than giving you a goodbye kiss. He wasn’t even dreaming about expecting more from the night. A kiss would be a start. A good start.

It took him half an hour to get there, arriving ten minutes early despite you warning him that you’d be late. But he wanted to be there just in case. That, and he never knew how bad the traffic would be. He was looking at his phone while he waited for you, wondering if he should text someone just to pass the time. Maybe ask Price if they were supposed to return soon, just so he would know how to plan with you. If there was anything to plan. He hadn’t known that yet.

In the end you were only fifteen minutes late, which was much less than the at least half an hour he had in mind for some reason. You were wearing a gorgeous navy blue dress under your coat, and he was seriously thinking about pulling you into a hug to warm you up a bit. Why did you dress like that when it was so chilly outside? Maybe you wanted to impress him. But if you wanted to impress him, then this could just as well be a date.

You stopped in front of him with a wide smile, your hands folded behind your back as you looked up at him. It was real torture that he couldn’t act on his instinct and pull you close to him, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before gently pressing your face into his chest. It was so damn pathetic that after only meeting you once for a good half an hour or hour, he was already this lost in his feelings for you. He didn’t even know what you were like in real life. All he had were a bunch of social media posts that he may or may not have checked after getting home last afternoon.

“I’m sorry you had to wait,” you said before suddenly hugging him, wrapping your arms around his body.

Before his brain could catch up, he put his hands on your back and rested his chin on top of your head. You didn’t seem to mind, and to his surprise, you even mumbled something into his chest. He wanted to know what you said, but he didn’t want to end this moment. Who knew how this night would end, maybe this was his last chance to be this close to you.

“We should buy the tickets,” you told him when you leaned back to look up at him.

“Or we could stay like this,” Simon suggested with a lazy smile.

With a quiet chuckle you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his chin. “Too bad I really want to see that movie,” you noted before stepping away from him.

The sudden lack of contact made him sad, but you immediately took his hand which quickly made things right. To make sure you wouldn’t let go, he laced his fingers with yours and let you pull him after you. Wherever you went, he would surely follow, he knew that much by now. He didn’t even try to hide the smile he had on his face; that big, stupid, and happy smile which was a clear sign that he was falling in love with you at record speed.

As the night progressed, he realized that he had been stressing over nothing. You were clearly interested in him as a possible boyfriend, otherwise you would have spent the rest of the evening clinging to him like that. During the whole movie you had your head resting on his shoulder, fingers intertwined and resting on your thigh, and when you went to grab a drink in a nearby bar, your eyes were always on him as you sat at a table in the corner. You had those big, beautiful eyes he couldn’t get bored of, and being with you felt like a privilege.

There was something about you that made him wonder why you let him so close this fast. Even in the cemetery you joined him without a word, then initiated tonight’s meeting before he could gather the courage to suggest it. This could be dangerous, he could have been a bad guy, but lucky for you, he wasn’t as scary as he looked in his private life. You made him soft without even trying, and you made his mind wander far away, escaping reality as long as he could look at you and touch you.

“My dad would be disappointed in me, you know,” you suddenly said, earning a questioning hum from him. You flashed a smile at him before taking the straw between your lips so you could take a sip of your drink before answering. “He always warned me about tough guys like you. Said I should be careful, that I should stay away for my own safety.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed at this. “He thought a guy like that would hurt you? Did something like this happen in the past?”

You were quick to shake your head and put up a hand. “God, no, it’s just… He always assumed they would hurt me emotionally. You know, they would cheat on me or turn out to be narcissistic assholes,” you explained with a laugh before reaching out to take his hand. “But he would like you. Actually, you would be the first guy I would confidently introduce to my parents without worrying about their reaction.”

“So you’re thinking this far ahead, huh?” he asked teasingly. You sank lower in your chair with your bottom lip between your teeth, but didn’t say a word. “Don’t worry, I’m already planning our wedding.” Your eyes widened upon hearing this, so he let out a laugh and raised your hand to his lips. “Just kidding. But I really like you. That one’s true.”

“I like you too.” Your gaze turned to your watch and you let out a sad sigh when you noticed the time. “I should get going. I have to wake up early tomorrow if I don’t wanna be late from work,” you told him with an apologetic smile.

He nodded, but he was sure you could see his disappointment. “Can I take you home? I wouldn’t want you to go alone.”

“I’d love that.”

The two of you left the bar hand in hand, and Simon didn’t miss the moments when you looked up at him with that adorable smile of yours. As it turned out, you didn’t live that far away from each other. Once he found a free spot a little further away from the building you lived in, he parked his car and offered to walk you to the door.

Just to be sure you got home safe. His hope to get a goodnight kiss had nothing to do with this.

He couldn’t hold back the short laugh that erupted from him for no reason. What was so funny? The fact he oh-so-desperately wanted to taste your lips? Whatever it was, he knew you were the root of the problem. If he wasn’t here with you, he wouldn’t be laughing at stupid things like some idiot.

“What is it?” you asked with a curious smile.

But he only shook his head. “Nothing.”

You came to a sudden halt and pointed at the building next to you, telling him that was your stop. “But seriously, what’s so funny? I want to laugh too,” you said with a pout.

Were you even aware of the effect you had on him? He highly doubted that. So he put his fears aside and leaned down to kiss you, his hand simultaneously moving to the back of your neck. You didn’t resist, in fact you deepened the kiss, even playfully biting in his lip while you tried to devour him.

Simon knew he had to stop this before you would do something you would regret later. This was only your first date, you were in no rush to get to the bedroom, no matter how badly his body craved yours.

“You said you had to wake up early tomorrow,” he said when he pulled away to your disappointment. “Go to sleep, gorgeous.”

You flashed a sad smile at him, but you nodded. “Goodnight, Simon,” you said quietly.

He flashed a supportive smile at you as he gently grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “Sleep tight. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Once he got home, Simon took a look at his phone. He could only roll his eyes when he saw several messages from not only Johnny, but Kyle and Price as well. The rumor mill was working at full speed that day apparently. But then his eyes noticed one that wasn’t like the others.

You: Is it stupid that I think I’m already falling in love with you after our first date?

A smile appeared on Simon’s face when he read these words. You were a little drunk, so this must be drunk honesty.

Simon: I feel the same way. If it’s stupid, then we’re both idiots.

You: I love you.

You: Or is it too soon?

You: Oh, gosh, it’s too soon.

You: I’m sorry.

Simon: Hey, calm down, it’s okay. I love you too.

Simon: Now go to sleep.

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "insomnia" ⎯୧ (lcy)

+*:🍓:*﹤descrip. : you help anton after a rough, sleepless week

+*:💗:*﹤content : sub!anton x fem!reader/dom!reader (i think), smut, roommates/friends to lovers

+*:🫐:*﹤warnings : 18+, so mdni 🤞(there are some really bad words in here), unprotected sex bc i forgot to add any </3 (please use protection), edging, wet dreams, overstim kinda, palming over clothes, blowjob, light nipple touching, petname babyboy, anton calls reader noona, vaginal penetration, female anatomy for reader, clit rubbing

+*:🧺:*﹤word count: 5.0K

+*:🤎:*﹤author's note : pls lmk if i missed any tags i should add! this is my first ff so it's lacking, but i tried my best to fix up any obvious plotholes!! i'm a year older than anton so i just made y/n older as well <3 this story switches povs bc im unprofessional, lastly this was cross-posted on ao3!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Anton can't sleep. 

He tosses and turns just to wake up two hours later, hot, sweaty, and heaving. He writes it off as having nightmares, but that doesn’t explain the hard-ons he always has. He considers getting one off to help him relax, and that works for the first two nights. Then, in the days that follow, it's like no matter how long he goes at it, getting himself all whiny and desperate, he can't cum. That realization only makes it harder to stay asleep, lucky if he dozes off for forty minutes. 

It's so aggravating. During lecture, he can barely keep his eyes open, but when his head hits the pillow, it's like he can't shut his mind up. 

Tonight, he gives up around 1 AM after going in and out of sleep for an entire hour. He's restless but exhausted, and his mood is shot when you walk in the apartment. You had a long shift, so you can’t wait to snuggle in bed and watch a couple of comfort movies. You stop by the kitchen on your way to your room, unable to ignore your roommate's quiet grumbles. 

“Anton?” You call out, but his back is turned toward you, and he's still mumbling to himself, fiddling with a container.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” You ask, placing an arm on his shoulder and gently turning him toward you. 

“m fine, can't get this stupid box open.” He mumbles grumpily. In his hands, a box of hot cocoa packets is bent out of shape. You look at him in question (how did he bend the box like that? They aren't hard to open), but your attention is instead drawn to his features.

To put it short, he looks terrible. His eyes are puffy and red like he's been crying, his hair is tangled like he hasn't brushed it in days, and his oversized shirt is hanging off his shoulder, wrinkled and stretched out like he’s been pulling at it.

“Do you need help?” You reach for the box, but he moves out of your way, tucking the box to himself protectively as he continues struggling with it.

Anton knows he looks stupid, struggling to open this goddamn box, but ever since his problem of not getting off started, he hasn't been able to look you in the eyes. Every time you guys make eye contact, he feels ashamed.

What’s frustrating is that he doesn’t know why. You're beautiful, and he can't lie and say he's not attracted to you, but he's never thought about you in a sexual way, because he’s put in great effort to not do so.

So why is it hard to be around you all of a sudden? He can’t help but feel sad about the circumstances, as he was enjoying the friendship you two had been building for the past three months.

“I got it.” He mutters again, tone sharp and stern. You watch him for a couple seconds and conclude that he doesn't in fact have it.

“Are you sure, Toni? I can-”

“I said I've got it.” He snaps, voices suddenly raised and face scrunched up in annoyance. You slightly flinch at his outburst, a wave of your own irritation washing over you. 

“Excuse me?” You ask, offended by his tone. His face falls and he turns away from you again. Seconds later, his shoulders begin to shake with his sobs. 

He wishes you would leave him alone, because having your eyes on him makes him feel things he can’t explain. He just wants to have some hot cocoa, get off, then go the fuck to sleep. 

“Oh, Toni.” You coo, mood softening as you begin rubbing his back. “What's the matter?”

You and Anton aren’t extremely close, and not by lack of trying. You’re so attracted to him, but love being his friend and don’t want to mess it up by asking him out. Despite that, you've never seen him in this state before. His usually cheerful, even charismatic personality is completely gone, turned into something snappy and miserable. 

“I'm so tired.” He says, his voice shaky and so quiet you almost don’t hear him. The palms of his hands come to rub his eyes aggressively. “Can't sleep, no matter what I do.”

You wonder how long he had to be in this state to be acting like this, feeling a bit guilty that you hadn't noticed the signs earlier. You think for a second about how to help. 

“I was going to go watch some movies in bed.” You offer after a few moments of silence. “Do you want to join me? It might be nice to have some company for a little bit.” 

He lowers his hands from his eyes and thinks about your offer. You guys have huddled in bed for movies before, so it isn’t a wild suggestion, and your bed is always so warm, multiple blankets and plushies adding extra cushion. He turns around, ignoring the heavy feeling he gets from looking at you.

“Here, I'll even make this for you.” You gently remove the box from his hands, ripping its cardboard flap and opening it with ease. He looks at you in surprise for a second, then nods. 

“Okay, why don't you go get settled and I'll be there in a minute?” 

He pads softly to your room, shoulders slumped and feet dragging.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Anton is buried underneath your duvet and blankets, only his eyes up to his forehead visible when you walk into your bedroom. 

“Comfy, are we?” You ask with a light chuckle, reaching out to hand him his cocoa. He sits up in bed and takes the mug. After changing into pajamas in the bathroom, you settle into your own space and pull up a selection of movies on your phone. 

“How's The Cat Returns?” You ask, watching as he downs the drink and snuggles back into the sheets. 

“Fine.” He mumbles, eyes droopy. You feel bad for him again, hoping he'll be able to get some sleep tonight.

You get through that and a third of Coraline when you hear Anton huff loudly. You glance down to see that he's snuggled up by your chest, eyes shut and breath even. He’s never slept in your bed before, but you don’t want to wake him up from some much needed rest. You take a moment to appreciate his beauty. In the glow from your bedside lamp, you can see his rosy cheeks and furrowed eyebrows, and your heart swells with fondness. Maybe this will make you guys even closer. You smile in triumph and continue the movie. 

Ten minutes later, you hear it. You ignore it the first time, but it happens again soon after. Anton lets out a faint whimper. For a second, you think he's talking to you, but he doesn't respond when you call out his name. Instead, he full-on moans. 

“N-noona.” He mumbles. The blankets have fallen from his chest and pooled around his pelvis, and you see his hips twitch slightly. “Please…”

Was he…having a wet dream?

Surely not, you tell yourself. The circumstances of this happening are quite unlikely. 

“Y/N…need you.” He whines quietly, and your eyes jump to the size of saucers. 

He was having a wet dream about you?!

Your cheeks heat up, feeling flattered but scandalized. He doesn't say anything else, but his breath picks up rapidly, becoming more choked off as it progresses. Seconds later, he jerks awake, gasping and panting, his fingers tangled into the blankets. You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to slow down his breath. Then, he opens them again and looks up from your chest. 

“Oh, Noona, did I wake you? I'm sorry.” He asks, voice thick and words slurred.

You ignore the way hearing him call you that now makes you hot all over, arousal manifesting in your panties. He sits up with messy hair and puffy cheeks. Is he just going to pretend like he wasn't dreaming about you? 

“What?” You scoff, a smile tugging at your lips. You can't help but laugh at how weird this situation was.

“Sorry for disturbing you, I'll head back to my room now.” You watch in disbelief as he sluggishly stands up from the bed and not-so subtly covers his boner with his large shirt.

The truth is, Anton can't wait to get out of your vicinity. Your scent is stuck to his clothes, and he doesn't know why he likes it so much. That shameful feeling is back, and he wants it off his skin.

“Wait, Anton.” You call out, dropping your phone on the sheets and just barely catching his wrist.

Shit. He turns back to you, eyes falling to your mouth, and he could've sworn you were almost…smirking?

“Did you get to sleep?” You ask, but your eyes lack genuine curiosity.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did.” He answers awkwardly, looking everywhere but your eyes. He’s so cute, and his nervousness makes you feel empowered.

“What did you dream about?” 

“What?” He looks at you finally with a look of confusion.

“Dreams? Did you have any?” You slowly lead him to sit back down. He follows easily, pulled back onto your soft, comfortable blankets.

“Uhm, no, not that I remember.” 

“You can't remember what you dreamt about?” You ask, incredulous. He looks away for a second, thinking, then turns back to you and shakes his head. 

“I think I've been having nightmares a lot recently. I keep waking up on the verge of a panic attack.” He explains. You hum in contemplation. You can’t help but wonder if any more of these “nightmares” have actually been wet dreams, and if so, how many of them have been about you. 

Slowly, your hand trailed along his thigh, and you delight in the sound of his breath hitching. His body is tense, eyes looking at you in question. “But that's alright, I guess I don't w-want to if they were that scary.” He stutters as your hand trails higher and higher. You’re giving him a sultry look, and he wonders if this is going where he thinks it’s going, and is surprised to realize maybe he wants it to go there, despite it being so sudden.

“That's interesting, because I think I know what you dreamt about, and why you can't get to sleep.” You say, circling your finger around a spot right on his hip. They twitch under your touch, and you almost coo again watching him try to restrain himself. 

You’re not sure where you suddenly got the nerve to act like this, but you say to hell with it. You’ve been harboring a crush on him ever since you became his roommate, and he obviously shares the same desire, if his subconscious is anything to go off of. His shy demeanor only makes you more confident. You move on from his hip and slide a hand up his loose shirt.

Anton’s almost relieved by your statement—he wants almost nothing more than to have a full night's rest—but he finds it hard to focus on your words as your nails lightly scrape his skin. His eyelids flutter prettily.

“When was the last time you came?” You ask abruptly, causing Anton’s eyes to snap open.

“I’m sorry?”

“You likely can't go to sleep because you're so tense. When you do, you can't stay asleep because you keep having wet dreams about me that eventually wake you back up.” You’re not sure if the last part is true, but that’s your working theory. You watch as he struggles to comprehend your statement as you graze a couple of fingers over his nipple, voice catching in a gasp. 

“What are you talking about? I'm not even having inappropriate thoughts about you.” He defends, because he tries so hard to not have inappropriate thoughts about you. He doesn’t want to be a pervert and take advantage of the friendship you guys have, so he pushes away any sexual thoughts that creep up in his mind. Sometimes it’s so hard, but he values your company so much, and doesn’t want to upset you.

“Oh, yeah? So when you moaned, ‘Y/N noona, I need you’ in your sleep, you weren't having inappropriate thoughts about me?” You ask, over-exaggerating the way he moaned. His eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of you tugging on his nipple, then you trail your hand back down to lightly trace his bulge. His hips lift towards your hand, and you pull it away. 

Even in his aroused, half-asleep mind, your words make sense. Why he feels shame looking at you, why he’s always rock solid when he wakes up. It’s not a far fetch to think he’s been having sexual dreams, nor is it to wonder if those dreams are about you, since you’re the only person he’s been attracted to lately. 

You wrap your hand around his member through his pants, snatching him out of his thoughts. 

“F-fuck.” He gasps quietly, surprised at your actions. “What are you doing?”

“Did you think you could get off on the thought of me and I wouldn't take up the opportunity to finally fuck you?” 

Questions swim around in his head. Have you been wanting to have sex with him? You’ve been thinking about him inappropriately this whole time? The mere idea of you finding him attractive gets him even more hot and bothered, but he has no time to dwell on these thoughts once you start palming him roughly through his sweatpants.

“Oh, g-god.” He whimpers out after a few minutes, hips finally bucking into your touch. “Please, ‘m close.” His breath quickens again, uneven and harsh like it was in his sleep. His cheeks are dusted with baby pink, embarrassed about how close he’s gotten so quick, but he can’t help it. You’re so beautiful and you’re touching him and he’s realizing maybe his feelings are bigger than he previously thought. 

“You're gonna cum from humping my hand?” You ask, unimpressed. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Your words make him feel like he’s being boiled alive. Part of him can’t believe this is happening, but he’s so desperate to please you. Anton gasps, pushing his hips back onto the blankets to get away from the stimulation.

“Please, stop. Wanna last.” He begs. He’s so cute, all weak and compliant, and you want to tease him more, see how long he holds out, but you can tell how much he wants to last, so you relent. He mumbles weak “thank you”s as he comes from the edge, and once his breathing returns to normal, you straddle him. He opens his eyes and looks at you in question, audibly gulping when he sees your dark, hungry gaze. He starts a sentence, but you cut him off as you grind your cunt against his member. 

“God, Y/N.” He groans, throwing his head back into the pillows. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask, giggling meanly. You keep the movement up, building a rhythm while watching him struggle to string words together.

“I can’t– ahh– can’t believe t-this is happening.” He manages, interrupted by a particularly rough grind. For a second, his head catches on the opening of your cunt, and even through two layers of clothing, the feeling has him reeling.

“Hm.” You sigh into the feeling and accept the fact that you were gonna have to throw these underwear away. “Why’s that?”

“You’re so pretty a-and nice and– Fuck, fuck, need you, please.” He whimpers out, echoing the words he spoke while asleep. You take in the sight of him, and he just looks so beautiful, brown hair fanning out beneath him. His lips are red from him biting them, and you can’t resist the temptation to lean down and kiss him. He tastes a little like the cocoa he had earlier.

It starts out slow, Anton taking a couple of seconds to comprehend the situation, overcome his shock, and actually kiss you back. Then it becomes more of him panting against your mouth, hips jerking erratically under your weight.

You still don’t want him to finish just yet, so you lift off of him and ignore the displeased whine he lets out. You pull his sweatpants off slowly while lightly scratching the skin of his thighs, reveling in the sharp gasp he takes. He’s so responsive, so fun to play with.

“Oh,” You whisper, shocked to realize he’s not wearing underwear. “So what’s this? Were you expecting to come in here and get your dick wet?” You ask in disbelief, eyeing his cock. It’s about average, but thick, and just thinking about having that in you has your pussy throbbing. You’re just teasing, but your words break Anton into a cold sweat. 

“N-no! No– these are m-my pajamas.” He explains desperately, words clipping off into a whine as you lift his hard cock with two fingers then let it flop back down. You can’t help but be mesmerized by it. It was a deep shade of pink, almost red, and a white bead of precum was forming at the tip. You unconsciously lick your lips at the sight. You professionally move on from the fact that Anton doesn’t sleep with underwear on in favor of running your tongue across the slit of Anton’s dick.

He let out a choked sound and his hips jerk violently, but you’re able to back up before his penis collides with your nose. 

“Toni, if you want me to touch you here, you have to be still.” You warn, one hand coming to rest on his hip.

“Sorry, sorry, I can do that. I can-” His rambling is cut off by you taking his entire head into your mouth. “Shit, shit, I– ‘m.” His hands come to tangle into your hair, but you pull off of his dick and place his arms back by his side. You don’t say anything, but you’re sure he gets the command.

“Gonna cum already, baby boy?” You ask teasingly, rubbing his wrists gently. His breath hitches at the pet name, and you make a mental note to revisit that later.

“No,” he mumbles defensively. Your eyebrow lifts in suspicion, but you take his word for it.

“If you get close, let me know, okay?” You hold eye contact while saying it, and he responds with a nod. “No, baby. Answer with your words. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll let you know, promise.” He says, nodding quickly, so desperate to get your mouth back on his dick. You’re not sure how much you believe him, but you oblige, slowly taking his member into your mouth inch by inch. Since he’s on the shorter side, it doesn’t take long for you to bottom out, his tip barely even reaching the back of your throat, but he’s hot and heavy on your tongue.

You wait and adjust for a second then begin a pace. Under you, Anton doesn’t say anything, the only communication being his gasps and grunts. You can tell he’s close by the way his hips stutter, desperate to buck up into the wet heat, but still, he doesn’t say anything. You pull off his dick to instead suck at the head, tongue sliding across and dipping into the slit. Almost immediately, Anton verbally explodes.

“Stop! Stop, please– too much, ahh–” He rambles, stuttering around portions of a sentence. He’s so embarrassed, but it’s not his fault you’re playing his body like a fiddle. 

You love the sound of him begging, so you keep up the ministrations a bit longer until his whines are so loud that he’s practically screaming, squirming on your blankets. You pull off again and rub up and down his thighs slowly. He gasps and pants as he comes down, so tense, and his cock is even more red, twitching as a steady stream of precum leaks out of the tip. It’s so vulgar that it almost drives you insane, and you’re starting to think you’re gonna lose it if you don’t sit on his cock in the next few minutes, but you push through it.

“Aw, that looks like it hurts. Want me to help you, or should I just leave you like this?” You ask, rubbing lightly at the head. In Anton’s sleep-deprived, sexually frustrated mind, he can’t see how much you want him, how you’re just as desperate as he is, and thinks you’re serious.

“No, please, please, don’t leave me, it hurts so bad.” His hips jump lightly, drawing your attention to his member in an effort to prove his point. “I can’t–can’t get off alone, need you.” He can’t even fathom the thought of you leaving him like this, tender and submissive and so, so hard. 

You can’t help but coo at that. You slip your pajamas and underwear, as well as his shirt, off, then straddle him again. You grind your cunt against his member again, this time without the barrier of clothing. Before he can beg, you crash your lips into his, swallowing any small sounds that try to escape. 

You kiss him until your lips hurt, making up for all the time you spent silently pining after him, not knowing he wanted you just as bad. When you pull away, he’s struggling to catch his breath and looking at you like you hung the stars. 

“You’re s-so stunning, I c-can’t believe you l-like me.” He mumbles through stuttered breaths. His hands lay awkwardly by his sides, and you lift them up to rest on your hips. His thumbs rub circles into them shyly, which causes your heart to swell up.

“How could I not like you, sweet boy? You’re so handsome and smart, so caring.” You run your hand through his tangled hair, gently undoing a couple of knots as you remember the traits and quirks that made you like him from the beginning. He practically melts into your touch and praise, but you’re not done with him just yet. You raise your hips and lean into his ear.

“You’ve been such a good boy, do you want me to fuck you now?” You barely get the question out before he’s nodding again, all eager at the idea of finally feeling your walls against his cock. 

Anton watches with slow, bated breath as you line your opening up with his length, but then you actually take it in, bottoming out with no hesitation, and his eyes roll into his head. He screams, but the sound is muffled due to his teeth trapping his bottom lip. You sigh in pleasure while letting yourself adjust to the feeling, then study his features as you clench around his dick.

His eyebrows furrow, and he lets out another high-pitched keen, and you’re mesmerized by his beauty. Anton’s grip on your hips tightens as you lift up and slide back down, but you feel a bit annoyed that his eyes remain closed. 

“Look at me, Toni.” You request, hands resting on his chest to support your weight. His eyes barely open, fluttering like it’s a struggle, and you can't help but think again that he’s just so cute. You want to destroy him.

“Good job.” You praise and graze his nipples with your fingers. His hips jerk at the sensation, pushing himself deeper into you, and you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily as a wave of pleasure washes over you. You breathe through it in an attempt to hold on to some sanity. On the next inhale, you pick up the pace, sliding his length in and out of you rapidly. 

“Oh, oh god- fuck, th-that’s so good, you’re so good.” Anton rambles, his voice strained and high-pitched in a way you’ve never heard before. You’re instantly obsessed with the sound and make a tsk-ing noise when he bites his bottom lip. You lift your hand off of his chest and squish his cheeks. His bottom lip juts out in a forced pout.

“None of that, baby boy. I wanna hear you.”

“-t’s embarrassing.” He mumbles weakly, which tapers off into another moan as you sink down fully and roll your hips. You throw your head back, feeling his thick size touch you in places you’ve never reached. You pick up a rhythm of sliding him in and out of you a couple of times then bottoming out and rolling your hips.

“Damn, Anton. You f-feel amazing.” You moan, stuttering when his hips buck into your own. You look back at him and his eyes are still open, and he’s giving you that look again, the one that makes you want to shy away under all of that adoration. Before you can, he throws his head back, baring his pretty, flushed neck as another high-pitched noise rips its way out of his throat. 

“F-fuck, -m so-sorry, can’t look– gonna cum, I’m–” 

You still on his lap and ignore the frustrated noise he lets out. Next to his ear, you whisper, “Not yet, Toni. Don’t you want to make me feel good too?”

He nods dumbly, unaware of how good he’s already making you feel. His eyes are empty and glossed over as you guide his hand to your clit. He rubs it experimentally, and your pleased sigh has him speeding up a bit, pressing a little harder to hear more of those sounds from you. 

His entire body is tense and burning hot, so close to the release he’s been chasing for a week, and watching your beautiful body react to his touch only makes it worse. He wants to get you there first, but when you roll your hips down again, he doesn’t think he can do it.

“P-please don’t move, please, please.” He begs, words slurring and eyes shining with desperation. He’s so deeply submitted to you that it’s almost unbearable, and you have the sudden need to please him, make him cum so hard he forgets his name, then kiss him to sleep. You support your weight with your shaky arms and lift your hips up.

“Fuck me, baby. Don’t you wanna cum?” You ask, putting on your sweetest voice for him. 

“Fuck yeah, yes, need it.” Anton grunts out. He wraps your arms around his neck and grips your hips tightly before roughly thrusting into your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck, Toni–” You gasp out with your face burried in his neck. His desperation shows through his lack of rhythm, his strokes uneven and harsh. He’s hitting your sweet spot so aggressively it feels like you might lose your mind, then his hand comes to rub your clit again, the grip on your waist strong enough to hold you up with one hand. 

“Oh, god. Cum, please cum, I-I can’t hold it.” He begs, words interlaced with keens and gasps. Despite your previous permission, he’s still so desperate to please you, even with wet cheeks and eyebrows furrowed in agony. The sight, the feeling of him pounding into your sweet spot, and the harsh, uneven rubbing on your clit sends you into overdrive. You cum so hard your hearing almost goes out, but you can faintly make out his muffled screams, and you feel him cream in you, hot fluids spilling back over his cock as he works himself through it. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Eventually, the air stills, and for the first time in hours, Anton’s tense body fully relaxes, his bones melding into your pillows. You lift off of him to let him fully catch his breath, and slip into the bathroom. His eyes are closed when you return, and flutter open when he feels something warm and wet touch his skin. 

You’re clean now, having wiped yourself down in the bathroom, and he’s silent as you clean him up as well. His blinks are slow like his eyelids are heavy, and you’re overwhelmed with the desire to leave kisses all over his puffy cheeks. 

You put discarded clothing as well as any dirty blankets in your laundry basket, then climb under the duvet with him. He’s warm and cozy when you pull him to lay on your chest again.

It’s silent for a few minutes, but you know he’s not asleep, because his breath is irregular.

“...Noona?” He calls out so quietly you’re surprised you hear it, alert to make sure he’s got everything he needs, so you hum in response. 

“Did you mean it? That you think I’m…handsome, and stuff?” He mumbles. His voice is so soft and sweet that you just wanna eat him up, but you don’t wanna disturb his comfort. 

“I meant every word, Anton. I’ve adored you since we met.” You confess while running your fingers through his fluffy, tangled hair. 

Moments of silence pass.

“I think I’ve been denying my crush on you for the past four weeks.” He whispers again, almost uncertain. His words have your heartbeat picking up, the idea of him reciprocating your romantic feelings makes you so happy you could jump on the bed, because you don’t know how you would’ve gone back to being just friends after tonight.

Similar thoughts run through Anton’s mind. He can’t believe he didn’t see his feelings for you sooner. It feels like after a full week, he’s finally able to relax into his skin again. You’re so comforting, and remembering how you took care of him gives him butterflies. Curiously, he looks up at you, and your eyes are staring back at him, as soft and sparkly as they’ve always been. He can’t believe how deep his feelings for you actually run. 

Your lips curl into a big smile, then you're suddenly cupping his cheeks and pressing warm, wet kisses all over his face.

“So cute. You’re so, so cute. I can’t resist any longer.” You say through smooches. He grunts in feigned annoyance, pretending that his heart isn’t threatening to jump out of his chest. You lay him back down, but he still has one question on his mind.

“Noona, w-will you…be my girlfriend?” His uncertain tone is back, despite everything.

“I better be.” You say lightly, half-joking. You continue running your fingers through his hair, and Anton’s eyelids become so heavy that he can’t keep them open despite wanting to stay here in this moment with you. 

You want to be sure before you drift off yourself, so you wait for a few more minutes, and then his breath evens out, and Anton falls asleep.

[teecupangel]

@thedragonqueen1998's reply to this post

That new tag actually is an idea/AU i've thought of lately. XD Where Desmond gives birth to Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton before being kidnapped. I've personally had him just suddenly become pregnant, no sex needed to lean more into the "Desmond is the Chosen One". XD Plus, we need more Dadmond tbh.

Virgin Birth.

Desmond had never even heard about it until he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

This is, according to Wikipedia, different from Immaculate Conception.

Desmond would like to reiterate that he was not the second coming of Virgin Mary.

… as far as he knew.

Not only that, he had been a virgin before he gave birth, having enough trust issues to fill a goddamn dam at the moment.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how sex feels like.

It was more that he was still scared that his father or someone his father sent would come find him and take him away from this freedom.

He can’t go back.

He would never go back.

Especially now that he had three sons to think of.

They were born on December 21, 2005.

At least, that was what Desmond believed.

The morning of December 21, his stomach started hurting so badly he couldn’t leave his bed. The pain ebbed and flowed from paralyzing pain to almost unnoticeable, giving Desmond a chance to text that he wouldn’t make it to his shift because of ‘stomachaches’.

His boss assumed he had diarrhea and told him to stop eating weird cheap shit.

Desmond was pretty sure that wasn’t it but it wasn’t like he could go to a clinic and get this check out.

Clinics meant asking questions about who he was and his history.

Clinics left tracks that William Miles can find.

Desmond knew how the game is played.

And fuck that. Desmond wasn’t going to give up his goddamn freedom because of a stomachache.

It will come to pass.

Like every pain Desmond ever felt.

So he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling, timing his breathing to the ebb and flow of the pain.

By midday…

Desmond fell asleep.

He didn’t know if the breathing helped him fall asleep or if he had passed out from the exhaustion and pain.

When he woke up, the sun had started to set and…

The pain was gone.

His bed was a lost cause, covered in blood, but Desmond’s attention was focused on the three small forms lying on the bed between his legs.

His sons.

Three bloodied (and, Desmond was being honest, wrinkly newly born ugly) babies who were all staring at him as they make cooing sounds.

That was the day Desmond became a father.

And also the day he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

They were… low maintenance boys, Desmond supposed.

They only shout when they needed to get Desmond’s attention and they weren’t fussy over their drinks. They seemed a bit disgruntled every time Desmond had to change their diapers but they didn’t cry.

They rarely cry.

They only truly cry at times when they were asleep and Desmond believed that they would have nightmares during those times.

His boss was strangely alright with Desmond suddenly appearing with three babies, only looking at him with a frown as he told him that this should be his wake up call to use condoms.

Even his coworkers believed that the one day that Desmond said he was out because of ‘stomachache’ had been code for him freaking out because an ex had left him with three sons as a big fuck you or something.

The most support Desmond got from them though was letting the babies stay in the office.

He had to buy the collapsible playpen though but it was fine.

It gave him an excuse to get more shifts just to pay for his and his sons’ living expenses.

One of his coworkers asked why he didn’t just give them up for adoption. It was clear that he wasn’t ready for it.

And Desmond couldn’t explain it.

He wanted them.

They might have been a surprise but… they were his.

And…

Whenever he felt tired or felt like everything was becoming too much… just feeling them in his arms was enough.

It was enough.

.

.

Miles’ kids were strange boys.

They didn’t make any messes and they were polite… most of the time, anyway.

He knew it was bad to let Miles use his office to keep the kids. Hell, this bar was not a good place for kids and Miles should really just get a babysitter but he didn’t mind.

Miles was homeschooling them… in a way.

It wasn’t his place to give parenting advice anyway so he stayed out of whatever Miles planned for his kids. As long as they don’t hinder business, they could stay.

Altaïr was always on that second hand battered laptop that always made loud fan noises when it was turned on. They mostly kept it on because of it.

At first, he thought Altaïr was just playing in his laptop but… he was studying. Every tab he could see was either educational or… well… Wikipedia pages. Even the YouTube account Desmond shared with his sons were filled with educational videos, mostly something connected to history or engineering or technology.

Desmond liked to say that Altaïr was a genius and had been saving up to buy him a better laptop for the past year now.

Ezio, on the other hand, was more of a people’s person. He liked to talk to Desmond’s coworker before the start of their shift and he was a charming little bugger. Charming enough that many of Desmond’s coworkers started to give them food and juice boxes, saying they made too much or their parents or grandparents gave them too much food and there’s no more space in their fridge…

He was pretty sure that was Ezio’s plan from the very beginning. Build up a network of helpful adults.

Then there was Connor.

He had a different name that Desmond and his brothers use but it was hard to pronounce so he just let everyone else call him Connor.

He followed his father or one of his brothers most of the time, quiet by their side.

Observing.

He was the one who helped out the most, always following Desmond and helping him whenever they were doing their final clean up before closing for the day.

When he was with Ezio, he was always earnest with his questions, taking everything the adults tell him seriously.

When he was with Altaïr, he would lean close and read with him quietly. They would share the earbuds that they had with tape on the right wire because the casing had broken apart and watch videos quietly.

They were… nice kids.

Desmond was a good father dealt with a bad hand.

He supposed…

Buying Desmond a cheap laptop would be cheaper than raising his pay this Christmas.

Would save him more money in the long run, that’s for sure.

[newkatzkafe2023]

You know that scene where Monkey King sniffs one of the elixirs and he turns back into a baby monkey?

What if that were to happen again with a female Y/N but this time, it takes longer for him to turn back to normal? So while your waiting for that to happen, your basically being a mother figure feeding him, playing with him, cuddling him, and just keeping an eye on him to makes sure he doesn’t get himself hurt. I do also see him trying to pick up Stick but it’s too heavy for him so you would have to take Stick away from him for the time being. And when you go to take a nap and baby monkey is nuzzling his face in your chest cuddling you(I also imagined you falling asleep like that and your just combing your fingers through his hair and back), THATS when he turns back to normal and he’s just laying there with his face still in your chest cuddling you trying to process everything.

Too goddamn cute!!!😩💖💖💖

BABIES 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

(Lmk Wukong) This is what happens when you don't clean up you crap now. Sun Wukong is a baby again. He spilled an old elixir that he forgot he had. Now he's a baby monkey, a surprisingly quiet baby monkey. He's May be quiet but he is certainly curious And because of that nature he gets lost very easily and you have to go and find him. But it's kind of okay because he makes up for it with a loving nature. When he's back to begin an adult He's super embarrassed about the whole situation when you explain it to him. And your relationship change the bit because of how motherly you were to him. On the brightside You have black mail in the form of baby pictures😈.

(NR Wukong) Man you thought he was a handful as an adult. Now look at him he's a bigger troublemaker as a baby well at least he's cute. He spilled an Elixir and now He's back to being a kid. But he's kind of a sweetheart and has retain some intelligence. He likes to pull pranks and loves to get cuddles and makes you laugh all the time. He does silly performances for you so you would laugh more But you always make sure it's nothing dangerous. When he's an adult He makes you promise not to tell anybody about what happened. Which you agree for his sake What about the baby pictures you took???🤔🤔🤔 Oh well What he doesn't know won't hurt him😏😏😈😈

(HIB Wukong) your really beginning to think that he was always grouchy because look at his face. He was a grouchy baby and picky when it comes to food. If something is not made of certain way he'll accept , he's not gonna eat at all. And sometimes you feel like he's Judging your whole entire existence. But other then that He seems to be more emotionally intelligent at this stage as he quick to conform you, pigsy, or the kids. When he's an adult he avoids the topic until you ask him if he were to want more children which causes him to pass out all over again.

(MKR Wukong) (Oh man I don't know if yall remember that one spongebob episode with the rotten patty in the cage😬) Well This is the best way to describe baby Wukong. He is Mean, Feral and Unpredictable and a absolute nightmare with the monk and The pilgrims. He growls and Bites and Fights and Spit There is no figuring out how to Tame him. Interesting enough the only one he listened to is you. If he gets angry or cause trouble , you come and calm him down and lightly scold , but explain his transgression. So he trust you And looks for your approval. Downside is He is the jealous type and doesn't like other people being around you. Luckily when he becomes an adult The only thing you have to worry about is his Mood swings.

(Netflix Wukong) OH LORD HE' SO CUTE!!!! But man, is he clingy. Now he was messing around and spilling something magical and weird. He's a handful, and quite Destructive that's for sure, but he usually uses his Cuteness and innocence to wiggle his way out of a punishment. You still scold and Reprimand him but he never did anything serious our very bad So you never did more than that. When he Gets back to normal He begs and plead you not to tell anybody about what happened. Which is fine and all But how do you tell him, that after everything you want to have Cubs???😥🤔🤫

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG👼

[just-j-really]

Unsoulmates, part three!

[Part One] [Part Two]

It becomes a tradition, after that. Morpheus and Hob will meet, at a cafe or a pub or completely by chance (their friend groups, it turns out, are bizarrely interconnected), and Morpheus will ask Hob if he's found his soulmate yet, and Hob will say no.

Their first few meetings, Hob makes a genuine effort to try and explain. To talk about the people he never would have met, the love he'd have missed out on, (the life he'd have missed out on), had he just sat around waiting for his soulmate to find him. About how freeing it is to get to know someone outside of those horrible soulmate-matching dates where you shake twenty people's hands in a row and move on when nothing happens.

Morpheus seems entirely baffled by it. Not just Hob's approach, but the rest, too, soulmate-matching organizations and the goddamn nightmare that is dating apps and that brief moment of panic when the other person tries to grab your arm on the first date. Hob is almost as curious about Morpheus' experience of soulmates as Morpheus is about his, but Morpheus shies away from even the blandest questions about his relationship status, so Hob is left to wonder- if Morpheus met his soulmate young, like Will did, so he's never lived with the pressure to find the One. If he believes that Destiny will bring his soulmate to him when it's time, and it's not his place to go looking. If he's cautious, gets to know a person on their own terms before touching them and finding out if they're a Match.

Hob would think that last one were the answer- Morpheus holds himself apart from other people, avoiding physical contact at all costs- were it not for the deliberate brush of Morpheus' fingers against his palm the night they'd met. At first he's terribly aware of where that mark would be, but it's easy enough to let the crush he'd been nursing fade to the background. Morpheus' interest in him is so clearly just academic curiosity, it'd be silly to dwell on it.

And even though the novelty of being listened to, if not fully understood, eventually wears off, Morpheus' curiosity is still heartwarming, and Hob, as a person, is not given to running out of things to talk about. And Morpheus proves shockingly eager to listen to him ramble about playing Hades and argue with him about what qualifies a good adaptation of a book.

It's nice. Settling. To be around him, in a way Hob doesn't know he's ever felt with anyone else.

Their fifth meeting, Hob spends the entire time gushing about Audrey, Audrey whose sister had introduced her to Hob because neither of them are terribly anxious to find their soulmate, Audrey who throws herself into helping Hob find the earbuds he lost at her house with the same fervor she applies to med school exams, Audrey whose laugh might be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard...

The look of- disgust? despair? anger? On Morpheus' face when Hob finishes that little tangent would almost be funny if it weren't so insulting.

Their meetings peter off after that. Not intentionally. But Hob will admit that his every waking thought becomes- slightly consumed, by Audrey, from the moment she looks at him sideways to make a terrible pun about roses. And even after Hob's found room in his head for other things, Morpheus is impossibly busy with some project he's working on with Will.

And suddenly it's been almost four months and they've barely spoken and Hob's rushing into a fancy bakery three minutes before they close, when he notices a familiar black coat at the back of the line. He takes a moment to straighten his jacket- this place is fancy fancy, polished in a way that makes him feel too poor to afford the oxygen inside the building- before he sneaks into line behind Morpheus.

Morpheus glances back at him and freezes, as though he'd planned to commit Bakery Robbery and Hob is now a witness.

"Hey," Hob says, grinning a bit too widely, in the vague hope that he can make them both forget the past months of awkwardness if he's just cheerful enough. "How's the playwriting going?"

Morpheus stares at him for a short eternity, then says, "Frustrating." It's the end of the sentence, but not the conversation. Hob knows he remembers that distinction.

He waits a moment, in case there's more that Morpheus wants to say. The line shuffles slowly forward- Hob really shouldn't have come here right after work, there are six people in line in front of Morpheus and only one incredibly stressed employee behind the counter.

"How is. Audrey?" Morpheus asks, uncertainly, just when Hob is beginning to think he should say something else.

Hob's fairly certain the smile on his face is answer enough to that question. "She's great. It's been. Great," he says, conscious of the fact that no matter how much he wants to wax poetic, Morpheus probably doesn't want to hear it. "She's actually- I'm going to meet her parents, this weekend," he adds, and once he's said the words aloud, it's hard not to bounce in place with sheer giddiness- he's going to meet her family! As her boyfriend! "That's why I'm here, actually. I wanted to bring something nice but the last time I tried to bake I set my kitchen on fire, so..." He shrugs, and nods at the counter.

"You really are in love with her," Morpheus says. That look is back on his face, that intense, almost visceral shade of pity. If anything it's stronger than the last time Hob saw it.

Hob, frankly, would prefer disgust. Or confusion, or scorn. I know what I'm getting myself into, he wants to say. I thought you understood that part, at least.

"Of course I am," he says instead, and the words only sound a little hollow. "Soulmates are stupid."

Another eternity passes. Morpheus makes a tiny move toward Hob, and for a brief, foolish moment Hob thinks he's going to kiss him on the forehead, as though he were a brother-in-arms dying on the battlefield.

"Then. Enjoy your dinner," Morpheus says, and turns back around.

And that's the end of the conversation.

The line keeps shuffling forward. Morpheus stares into the middle distance like a statue of some folkloric king. The woman in front of him shoots Hob several pointedly disgusted looks, and Hob- broods. Turns the question over and over again in his mind- Why is it so hard to understand that she doesn't need to be my soulmate? She's already perfect. I love her.

He doesn't ask. He doesn't get an answer.

And three weeks later, Audrey bumps into her soulmate at a concert, and he realizes she hadn't understood, either.

[nepthys-merenset]

I got this idea for Dmitry and Lane's first kiss in my head, and basically couldn't rest until I got it out of my head. Sooo...here you go--my first fanfiction in literal years. Enjoy my delulu dreams!

Title: "A Search for Understanding"

Pairing: Lane x Dmitry [Heaven's Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 1,595

Rating: T

Taglist: @rc-catalog

TW: Mild blood, mutual roughness.

“Sit.”

His keen blue eyes tracked her every movement as his voice, cold as ice, shattered the silence in the room. She closed the door gently, as if she could appease him by treating his office with care, and crossed the room, sinking into the chair in front of his desk. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, surveying her silently. Waiting.

Unconsciously, her eyes swept over the desk. Spartan in its cleanliness, it showed that Dmitry—the General, she corrected herself, she had no right to familiarity with him—truly was a military man through and through. Three manila file folders, a letter opener, and a lamp were the only items on its surface.

Her gaze lingered on the letter opener.

Just in case.

***** 

Dmitry had been a military man all his life, long before hellfire rained from the sky and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walked the earth. The structure made sense to him—added order to his life. As the cataclysms worsened, military discipline and protocol went from rule of law to suggestion to mere relics of the past, but vestiges of the chain of command remained. He clung to the remnants, the last bits of his old life, even as his squad dwindled.

Some deserted, deciding to spend their remaining days with their families. Others were killed. Still more simply vanished, lost to the frozen wasteland.

The files of three such soldiers, their careers tersely summarized in manila folders, lay on his desk. One, he would unseal and finally label “killed in action” when he finished with Lane. Two others were still labeled “missing in action,” a hopeful gesture that he found increasingly inappropriate with every passing day.

He leveled his gaze at Lane. Things had made sense until that goddamn angel had pulled her from the Rift and forced him to save her life. No matter what new nightmare the apocalypse brought, no matter what thinly veiled resentment the immortals showed him on a daily basis, the chain of command between him and the human members of the squad made sense.

He was responsible for Anna, Greg, Lester, Nick, Noah, and the rest of the squad, and he trusted without question that they would obey him. That they respected him as a leader and wouldn’t turn on him.

But you—I can't trust you.

Lane unsettled him. Confused him. He found himself studying her often, trying to find meaning in her fleeting expressions and subtle glances. Sometimes, he could have sworn he saw a glint of red in her eyes, but he forced that thought down whenever it came to him. That was impossible, and besides—he couldn’t possibly be watching her closely enough to notice a thing like that.

Clearing his throat to attract her attention, he flicked the file on top of the pile open and roughly turned it in her direction. “Noah’s file. Years of immaculate service.”

A quick glance—brown, he noticed—before she looked down at the file. His gaze wandered to her lips, following their minute movements as she read.

Stop it.

“No issues worth documenting with any other squad members. And you claim he suddenly attacked you and Boris Romanov with a knife.”

More silence. She only frowned and shook her head slightly, as if to say, I already told you everything.

He cracked, slamming his open palm down over the file. “Explain yourself! What happened in that room?”

She looked at him fleetingly, before her gaze turned left, towards the letter opener—

My gun. She went for my gun the last time—

A quick rustle of fabric as she moved, and he exploded into motion, reaching for her.

*****  

One push.

One push, and she would have the letter opener and her freedom. She launched herself upwards, out of the chair and onto the desk. One knee landed on the desk, the other foot planted firmly on the floor as she grasped wildly for the letter opener.

Her hand closed over it and she brought it to his neck just as his hands closed, viselike, over her wrists. She froze, her hand trembling as the vein below the letter opener pulsed with life.

One push and the life of the man who had saved hers would end.

Indecision paralyzed her. She would be free, but she would be alone. Without the one man who had managed to read her like a book and given her a place in this new world, however begrudgingly.

The blade shook, drawing blood. Her eyes strayed downward.

Red, she noticed. Not like mine.

Unwilling to either continue or relax her grip, she raised her eyes, meeting his cold blue stare. His hands loosened on her wrists but didn’t fall. There would be bruises tomorrow. Of that much, she was sure.

“You could do it,” he murmured, barely moving his lips. His life was in her hands, just as the key to unlocking her past could be in his. “But where would you go from there?”

Anywhere. Or nowhere.

She couldn’t say why she dropped the letter opener, or if it was even a conscious decision. Maybe it was a decision spurred by her longing for connection. Maybe it was the ephemeral memory of the night he’d helped her with her work. Or maybe it was her lost humanity, locked deep below layers of confusion and apathy. But regardless of reason, the blade slipped from her fingers, clattering to the desk with a lingering sense of finality.

Something had changed between them.

They moved as one, both filled with longing—one to understand why she couldn’t take that final step towards freedom, the other to understand why she was the one thing that disrupted the painstakingly maintained order of his life.

He stood, locking his arms underneath her as she raised her other leg, kneeling on the desk. Kicking his chair aside, he turned, pushing her roughly against the window as they thought, unaware, in sync—

I need to understand you.

Her hands tightened around his neck, bringing more blood—red—to the surface. As his life flowed over her fingers, their eyes met—brown and blue. Keen, both searching, both beginning to find what they sought. Answers.

There was nowhere else to go. The room was filled with a sense of inevitability as their lips crashed together in a demanding kiss. She gasped, a tiny little noise, as warmth flowed through her. Her fingers, sticky with his blood, tingled as she locked her hands behind his neck and forgot herself in his embrace.

Is this what it was like before? Before the Rift?

She felt like she was closer to understanding what she had lost—what she may have experienced before those three years had vanished from her life. In his arms, she felt the closest to alive than she had since Cain had pulled her from the Rift. Like a person who actually mattered to someone.

He grunted, adjusting his grip as her back rubbed against the cool glass behind her and her legs wrapped around his waist. He bit her lip sharply. Blood trickled down her chin as she gasped again, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling once, twice. First experimentally, then with force. All the while, their searching lips moved against each other.

A deep, appreciative sound rumbled through the General as he turned again, thrusting her back onto the desk without care. Blood dripped onto the covers of his missing soldiers’ files, marring his perfectly kept records. He didn’t care. He needed to understand her, and he knew he was getting closer.

One arm swept out, clearing the desk, and the lamp flew to the side and shattered against the wall. Consciousness returned along with the crash, loud and abrupt.

With a groan that felt like acknowledgement of the madness that had gripped them, Dmitry pulled back. Lane fought for breath, touching the blood on her chin. Both stared at the broken lamp, its shards glinting reproachfully in the dying sunlight.

What have you done?

He was still the man whose orders she may have to defy one day, the man she may have to betray eventually, to unlock the mysteries of her past.

She was still the woman who may have caused the disappearance of two of his soldiers.

And he was still her superior officer, a man with no order in his life except for the chain of command. His only remaining oath as a soldier.

She hardly dared to move, but she still slid from the desk, and they stepped away from each other. Her hand over her mouth, his hand on his neck. Breathing hard, eyes cautiously trained on each other. Their connection was undeniable, unavoidable, but the distance seemed insurmountable.

He deliberately looked away from her and said flatly, “we’ll discuss this later.” In a vain attempt to convince her that he meant her squadmate’s disappearance, he gestured at Noah’s file, askew on the floor, before dismissing her. “Go back to the estate.” 

She didn’t believe him—she knew he wasn’t thinking about Noah right now—but she grasped at his words like a drowning woman would at a life preserver. She wasn’t ready to explore what had happened, either. But even as she agreed, doubt swirled in her mind. Was he her barrier, or her key?

“Yes, General.”

As she left the room, she glanced behind her. Dmitry dropped heavily into his chair, his head falling into his hands. Light reflected off of the bloody letter opener, still lying just out of his reach, and the door closed behind her.

They would have to continue searching for answers later.

[foster-ya]

bg3 romance woes

just got the scene with talking to Gale under the night sky in act 2 (beautiful scenery btw) and GOD. HOW in the HELLS am I supposed to romance anyone BUT him now??!

On the other hand, I want to romance Astarion and as much as I CAN NOT for the life of me find it easy to reject Gale, hurting Astarion in any way, shape or form would immediately reduce me to a pathetic puddle of tears.

WHY can I not romance both of them UGGHHH this is torture.

not to mention the fact that I have the hots for like EVERY romancable AND unromancable npc in this GODDAMN game.

like Lae’zel (she’s so endearing for some reason what the hell??), KARLACH oh my GOD (Shadowheart knows what’s up, I NEED her to carry me and OMG she calls herself Mama K I CAN’T), Wyll ugggghh (he’s underrated and I WON’T stand for it) Shadowheart (fuck, god’s favorite emo princess I love her so muchhhh). That motherfucker HALSIN (what a HUNK of an elf they had NO RIGHT making him so glorious) even Minthara who I finally got in Act 2 now.

and when it comes to the UNROMANCABLE people. Don't even get me STARTED. Raphael you god damn majestic asshole. Haarlep (I’d feed him, that’s all I’ll say about the matter), Alfira (the REAL reason why I’ll never do a Durge playthrough, I CAN NOT ever lay a finger on her). Larkrissa (I love her and Alfira plus them TOGETHER so fucking much), ROLAN (stupid prickly wizard), Dammon (he’s just SO everything, don’t make me explain, I’ll go on and on for hours)

this game is a bisexual NIGHTMARE and on one hand I LIVE for it, on the other, I’d like to sue

[riality-check]

The first time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s just trying to make his brain quiet.

It’s so loud, all the time, and between his memories and vivid nightmares of the Upside Down, he misses silence more than anything. Music isn’t enough to drown it out, no matter how much he cranks up his stereo or his amp. People work fine. As long as he’s talking to or listening to someone, it’s fine. The whole party has been a big help. Dustin, Wayne, and especially Steve help the most.

But they’re not always there. They grow up, move away, and have their own lives. And even though Steve is his boyfriend, and they live together, it’s unrealistic to always expect him to be there, too.

He’s got his own shit going on. He doesn’t need Eddie’s on top of that. Eddie ignores the fact that he will always help Steve.

So, because music doesn’t work and people aren’t there, alcohol is a wonderful thing.

Eddie usually tracks his drinks. He does. But it’s the anniversary of the whole shitshow, and the nightmares are worse and he had a fucking flashback this morning because of the lights. He hasn’t had those for months.

He just needs some goddamn quiet.

He remembers throwing up on the kitchen floor, too sick to make it to the bathroom.

And then he wakes up in a hospital bed, feeling like death reheated.

(He knows, intimately, what that feels like.)

Steve is crying beside him, and Eddie just thinks back to his ten year old self, the little stringbean kid who had to make the call and tried to clean up the vomit before the EMTs got there, and he swears to himself, Never again.

The second time Eddie needs an ambulance, he just got carried away.

It’s too easy, with the clubs he plays in. It’s too easy to lose track of the drinks audience members offer him. It’s even easier to do a line because what the hell, it’s just one.

It’s easy because he and Steve have been fighting. A lot. Steve started drinking more than usual, and Eddie’s been trying to get him to stop. Steve says he’s hypocritical, that Eddie didn’t take rehab seriously because he still keeps beer in the house.

He didn’t think he needed to quit completely; he just needed to get it under control.

He’s aware of the fact that he’s been out of control all night. He’s crossed to hell and back, but he takes another shot.

Steve stayed home because he was sick. Eddie stumbles inside and can’t even close the front door before he’s on the ground.

He hates that he knows what charcoal tastes like now.

The third time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s scared shitless.

Steve keeps talking about family. About having kids. Eddie looks at the chip on the kitchen counter and can’t help but think, How old would the kid be before I had to explain that to them?

Every answer he comes up with is too young.

Eddie is scared shitless because he knows, he knows that he’ll be just like his parents. He knows that he’ll end up a deadbeat, a drag on both Steve and that kid, and he won’t do that to them.

He thinks about being six years old and being left alone for days at a time. After the first time, he always made sure the cereal was in a spot where he could reach it.

He thinks about being eight years old and cooking for his parents, not the other way around. He had to use a step stool to reach the stove.

He thinks about being ten years old and calling the ambulance because his mama was on the ground again, and this time his pa was out, too.

Eddie will not do that to this kid, and he won’t do it to Steve.

He thinks about an article he read a few months ago. Some new study came out, saying that addiction is genetic.

Figures that’s the part of them I carry with me, he thinks right before his mind slips into nothing.

He wakes up in the hospital again. He’s starting to wish he wouldn’t wake up at all.

The fourth time Eddie needs an ambulance is the first time he’s alone.

After the third time, Steve and him fought like hell. They almost lost each other, and that’s when Eddie realizes he would rather die than have that happen.

He took rehab seriously, and Steve joined AA, too, despite not being as bad. Eddie doesn’t play in clubs anymore. There’s no alcohol in the house, hasn’t been for years. He cut off all contact with his old dealers.

He misses it.

He doesn’t miss the high, not really. Not when he can have something better by being with his family. Not when he gets the same rush from listening to his favorite albums or turning his amp up to max. Not when he’s with Steve because everything is better when he’s with Steve.

Eddie misses the low because he’s still hurting. Bad days still happen and they’re a bitch to deal with. He still can’t sleep right, after all these years, and he still doesn’t always believe that he deserves a life this good.

He’s hurting, and nobody notices because he looks fine. He’s healthy.

He’s healthy, and that’s the problem, because Eddie misses being sick.

So he crashes, and he crashes hard, and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking when he finally goes out.

He wakes up in the hospital alone.

Alone.

No sign of Steve.

And that’s when Eddie realizes he fucked up the last good thing in his life.

His voice is shredded, but he asks the nurse where he is. She says she’ll call and find out.

Maybe he went to get food. Maybe he went home to sleep. Maybe-

She comes back in and tells him that Steve says he’s glad Eddie is okay, but that he’s not coming back.

Eddie doesn’t bother going back to their apartment before he goes to rehab.

He takes it seriously again. He knows the goddamn script by heart, knows what to do and what not to do, what to say to get out.

It’s the fastest he’s ever gone through the program.

He goes back to their apartment. It looks like Steve never lived there in the first place.

Eddie cleans it up. Calls a few people. Calls Dustin, who lets him know that Steve is alive but doesn’t say anything else.

It’s quiet. Eddie just barely keeps himself from going to the liquor store.

Instead, he gets a fish.

It’s a stupid looking fish. A goldfish that isn’t supposed to last long, maybe a few months. He names it Bagagoth and buys it a tank and makes sure to feed it regularly. If he takes care of himself, he doesn’t kill the fish.

Bagagoth lasts two years before he dies of natural causes. It’s sad, but Eddie doesn’t take it personally. By that time, he’s got a hognose snake named Lancelot and a cat named Ozzie depending on him, too.

If he dies of an overdose, they’ll eat his face. Eddie wants an open casket funeral.

He doesn’t play in bars anymore. He puts down the electric guitar and all its dim-lit, drug addled memories.

He picks up the acoustic and starts playing the music he grew up with. Stuff he heard on the radio as a kid, songs he learned for Wayne when he was first starting out.

Eddie told himself that he wouldn’t play any more hick shit once he learned electric. Hick shit brings him a comfort like no other.

He expands it to some pop, some softer rock. He starts writing his own stuff, much tamer stuff. He stays solo. He plays in cafes in the middle of the afternoon.

It’s boring as shit. It’s better than the headache of a hangover or the bill that comes after a hospital stay.

He actually goes to meetings. He makes new friends and hangs out in parks and at people’s apartments and at comic book shops. He joins a new D&D group as a player, not as a Dungeon Master. His character is a chaotic half-elf bard running from his past.

He makes enough to actually afford a therapist. She’s nice, about his age. She’s got experience with addicts and children of neglect. It takes Eddie a year’s worth of sessions to realize that he is not his parents, and a few more for him to realize that he still deserves good things even after all his fuck ups.

Eddie calls Wayne every Friday night, when two years ago he’d be at a bar. He keeps in touch with the kids and the rest of the party. Dustin tells him Steve got accepted into some master’s program in Chicago, and Eddie tries not to let that hurt so much.

He’s become a regular at a coffee shop a few blocks away. They’ve got an open mic, and while it’s not a paying gig, it gives him the opportunity to play new stuff instead of the acoustic Journey covers a lot of other places want from him.

The best thing about recovering from addiction is that it gave him a lot of new song material.

He sings about darkness, and fear, and pushes and pulls. But he always follows it with light and love and the hope of being battered but not broken.

That’s what he is. He’s got scars that never quite faded, but that chip is still on his counter, and there’s still breath in his fucked up lungs.

He’s almost at the end of his set when he spots Steve in the crowd.

Steve, dressed in a cozy looking blue sweater. Steve, with round frame glasses. Steve, with the tiniest streak of gray in his hair. Steve, whose eyes are alert and shining. Steve, who looks as handsome as ever.

Steve, who’s staring right back at him.

He stammers out an intro to his last song before he just plays, letting the music take over. He sings the first song he wrote after that last rehab stint, when he came home to an empty apartment and instead of cleaning up right away, grabbed his notebook.

It’s the only one he’s ever written that never changed from the first draft.

Steve comes up to him, after, and tells him he doesn’t hate him. Eddie says he doesn’t hate himself anymore. It’s mostly true.

They got their asses in gear. It sticks, this time.

Eddie moves into the apartment Steve has. He takes Lancelot and Ozzie, who are both confused and pleased about their new surroundings. He decorates it with posters and enough plants to constitute a garden because while a lot of things have changed, Steve’s lack of design skills haven’t.

They have a kid. The moment Eddie has her in his arms, he realizes that she will alway be his top priority. Always.

And he knows Steve thinks the same way.

They don’t drink; they dance in the kitchen. They still fight; they have a rule about not going to bed angry.

They love each other, and it sticks this time because they’re not young and self-destructive and plain fucking stupid anymore.

They’ve got years and pain behind them, and they’ve got a lot more years and a lot more love ahead.

(Click here to read Steve’s POV by my wonderful enabler, @hexmionegranger )

[lillysdreaminnn]

Labyrinth.

Labyrinth; chapter II

Word count; 1.9k

Summary; one time Ivy noticed something was wrong with Aaron and one time Aaron noticed something was wrong with Ivy - or alternatively; the case and how Ivy almost solved it.

Warnings; JJ being a little shit because I love her, Hotch being hot (what's new?), nightmare but no description of it, discussion of puncture wounds and maybe a little bit of gore, I think that's all

The team was on the jet, talking about the case and whatnot, but Ivy's eyes were on Hotch. As someone who had suffered kind of the same problem, she knew how his ears must've hurt quite a bit.

 "They have parachutes on board, right?" Rossi asked, looking between the team. "They should, it's standard in all federal transport." Spencer said with a confused look on his face, but Ivy caught on Rossi's drift.

 "Maybe we should give one to the elephant of the room, get him out of here?"

 Ivy's gaze turned to the man across from her, seeing as he was in obvious pain. "That be the elephant with the dead mans DNA." Derek muttered, looking up from his files and back at Rossi.

 "Obviously someone planted the semen on the victim." Hotch commented, taking a break from rubbing his forehead.

 "In the victim." Ivy corrected, making Hotch look at her with a soft sigh leaving his lips. "That's one theory." Spencer said, taking everyones attention to himself, "There's another theory?" JJ questioned, voicing everyones thoughts once again.

 "Think of someone who shared the exact same DNA as an other person."

 "Reid, you're not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin, are you?"

 "No, I'm not." As Spencer continued to explain his theory about the unsub, Ivy was looking at Hotch, noticing how he closed his eyes tightly and groaned subtly.

 Jesus.

"Hotch, you have been cleared to fly haven't you?" Ivy asked after a few beats of silence, making Hotch look at her, knowing she was fully aware of his situation with the bombing.

 He just sighed and leaned back on his seat, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as a sigh mixed with a pained groan left his lips.

 Jesus Christ.

 With a sympathetic smile, and a sigh because of the scene in front of her, Ivy leaned back on her seat as well, looking down at the file she had on her legs.

 Hotch assigned where everyone would go and Ivy was paired with Rossi for the morgue, "My favourite." Ivy said sarcastically, "Tell me about it." Rossi agreed, making her chuckle. The rest of the short flight, they talked about past experiences and funny stories, JJ and Ivy sharing stories one about the other.

 "Oh my God... Bella remember when y-" Ivy cut her cousins sentence short, by shaking her head; she knew what JJ was going to say since she loved that story.

 "Don't call me that and no I don't."

 "What did she do?" A very curious, and grinning, Emily asked making JJ jump with excitement.

 "JJ no."

 But what JJ heard was "JJ yes" so she told the story Ivy dreaded to hear. "When Ivy was like... five? Three? Four? Or more? I don't know, she was very young anyways." Ivy snorted a laugh at her cousins confusion, hiding her face in her hands.

 "She was in daycare, waiting for her mom to come pick her up, right? And she was hiding under the Goddamn slides just waiting, lurking, when a woman with the same pants as her mom came in, looking for her daughter. Ivy, thinking that it was her mom, ran over to the poor woman, clinging onto her leg for dear life."

 The BAU laughed, while Ivy was hiding her face in her hands, embarrassement written all over her face.

 Hotch couldn't help smiling at her embarrassement as well, finding it kind of sweet how JJ and Ivy always had a nice bond. "My mother still makes fun of me for that." Ivy muttered, laughing softly at herself.

 The rest of the flight passed by like a flash and soon Rossi and Ivy were at the morgue, looking at poor Delilah Grenan.

"What about the puncture wounds?" Ivy asked the doctor as he walked back inside the morgue. The doctor briefly sighed before answering the young agents question, "My best guess is a small screwdriver."

 "Just like the prior murders, he's a stickler for the details." Rossi said, looking through pictures of the old victims, along with Ivy.

 Ivy took a longer look at the pictures and then back at the victim right in front of her. Something seemed... familiar, about the placement of the puncture wounds but she couldn't pinpoint what. "Their groupings on the prior victims were always different in number and arrangement." Ivy commented, showing Rossi what she meant.

 The older agent looked at the pictures and then at Ivy, nodding subtly, as if telling her she did a good job. "Three wounds on this one. Five, twenty four... He was all over the map." Rossi commented, as the doctor shifted in his place, making Ivy look up at him.

 "I also found traces of paper on the wounds." The doctor said. Ivy shot a quick look at Rossi, before looking back at the doctor and then down at the pictures.

 "Paper? Like Tissue?"

 "Like... Notebook paper."

 Ivy's eyes went wide for a second. Notebook paper? "Well that's new." She commented, mainly to herself, biting her bottom lip in concentration.

 "Unique copycat." Rossi added to Ivy's comment, sighing a little. Ivy was still trying to figure out what stood so familiar to her, but she couldn't and it was eating her alive. Being a profiler, Rossi noticed even when she tried to hide it.

 "Ivy, what is it?" Rossi asked the young agent quietly. "Hm?" Ivy hummed as she turned to look at Rossi, shaking her head a little.

 "I don't know... It just seems familiar." She sighed, rubbing her eyes a little.

Very few hours later, it was dark out, and Ivy along with Hotch and Rossi were at the cemetery, digging up the body of Cortland Bryce Ryan. Ivy was too busy thinking about what the puncture wounds reminded her of, when she noticed Hotch walking away with his head in his hands, groaning.

 She looked at Rossi, who motioned for her to go, so she did. "Hotch?" Ivy called out to him, running over to the man, trying to find his gaze to see if he was okay. Her boss just waved her off as if nothing was happening, when in reality he felt as if he was dying.

 "Hotch, can I do anything?" Ivy asked, keeping her tone calm and not loud, as she didn't want to cause him more pain.

 "No, no. I'm okay." He said mid-groan, making Ivy's stomach fill with a fluttery feeling.

 Ivy no.

"Are you sure, Hotch? Let me drive you back to the station; I'm sure Rossi will be just fine." Ivy offered, but Hotch still declined, "Thank you, Monroe, but I'm okay." He sighed heavily, looking at her.

 "Okay." Ivy nodded, sighing softly as well.

 After the - not so - shocking news that Cortland's body was missing, Hotch decided it was time to head to the hotel, as it was getting late. Everyone went to their rooms and settled in, prepping for sleep or whatever they'd be up to.

 Ivy took a quick shower to freshen up and went to bed, wanting her mind to be clear for the following day and the rest of the case.

 An excruciating dream later, Ivy shot up from her bed as sobs rippled through her. Seeing as it was only two in the morning, she decided to head out for a little to clear her mind. She put on a jacket over her torso and exited her room silently, not wanting to wake up the man in the room next door.

 But she did.

She walked outside and just sat on one of the hotel's benches, staring at the night sky, while trying to calm down. A short two minutes later, someone sat next to her.

 "Can't sleep, Monroe?"

 Ivy turned her head and came face to face with Hotch, who was in a short sleeve shirt and sweatpants.

 Holy mother of God.

 "Yeah, kind of. Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry." Ivy quickly apologised, thinking she had woken up her boss; who just waved her off, as if saying no. "You didn't, don't worry about it." Hotch sighed, moving around a little, before sitting in a manspread.

 Ivy inhaled sharply and looked away from him, back at the night sky, just as Hotch turned to look at her. He noticed how short her breathing was and how her cheeks shined with what seemed to be dried tears.

 "What's bothering you, Monroe?"

 "Nothing."

 "Don't lie, Ivy; you've been crying."

 Ivy's head snapped towards Hotch as he called her by her first name for the first time. Two days in and he was already making her feel things.

 "It was nothing, I promise. Just a nightmare." Ivy said with a soft smile accompanied by a soft sigh. Hotch studied her features as she didn't dare to look at him. He noticed how her eyes were brown but had a green tint to them as well, how her lips formed a slight pout and how she breathed deeply.

 Aaron no.

 "Ivy, I've been a profiler for a while. I can tell something is wrong. I won't push you to tell me, but just know that you can." Hotch reassured her, flashing her a smile that he only seemed to have when she was around.

 Ivy finally looked at him and smiled as well, "I promise it was nothing; just a stupid nightmare about the case." She quickly made up a lie - that Hotch saw right through - but he decided not to push her further.

 The two agents sat on that bench for another hour, not talking; just looking at the sky in comfortable silence, each one thinking about their own problems. Until Ivy spoke up. "Did you know that the brightest star is Sirius A and the biggest constellation is Hydra?" Ivy asked Hotch, not really expecting an answer - if she wanted to be honest.

  "I actually didn't. That's pretty great." Hotch said with a hint of amazement in his tone. "Yeah, see right there?" Ivy pointed to random stars in the sky, smiling to herself.

 Her eyes shine brighter than a stupid constellation.

 But Hotch looked either way.

 "Mhm. What about it?" Hotch muttered as he got closer to Ivy, in order to see where she was pointing. "That's part of Hydra." She said with a sweet smile, turnign her head to face Hotch. "What else do you know about constellations?" He asked, genuinely curious in the girls interests and knowledge about stars.

 Ivy started rambling about stars and planets and whatnot, until she finally stopped.

 "Oh... My God." She muttered to herself, looking up at the sky. "I got it!" She said rather loudly, before shooting up and running to her room as Hotch was left confused.

 He quickly got up and followed Ivy to her room, standing next to her as she pulled out the pictures that Rossi had given her of the puncture wounds.

 "Look! That's a contellation!" Ivy said, her tone full of excitement.

 "Holy mother of God, you're right." Hotch mumbled, turning his head to look at Ivy, a small smile on his face once again. "Great job, Monroe. That'll be useful for the rest of the case. But for now; get some sleep." He said in a soft tone, as if giving her advice.

 After saying their goodnights, Ivy was walking to her bed, when the door reopened and Hotch popped his head in the room.

 "Close the window. Cold atmospheres tend to make nightmares more vivid and frequent. Goodnight, Monroe."

 Ivy was left smiling like a fool to herself.

 The man who was supposed to be scowling and mean and whatnot, was nothing but sweet to her these past forty eight hours that she had known him for. She found herself thinking about him during the entire night.

 So Ivy ended up dreaming about him.

 And Hotch ended up dreaming about her.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Incarnadine - E.M

Warnings ® angst, fluff, SMUT, you suck him off<3 Established relationship, mentions of injury, scars, Eddie has nightmares and is still recovering from the Upside Down, lots of reassurance and praise, he's needy but he will never admit it, this story involves wounded Eddie, you show him how beautiful he really is, no matter what <3 good boy! Eddie

Today marks five months exactly. Chatter still moves around town like an echo of an old friend. People are still nervous when they're in crowded spaces, even more nervous when they're alone in their homes, big and ostentatious or small and quaint. They still talk about him like he's a monster, like he's not a victim.

It's excruciating. And maybe you're selfish for saying that, but knowing what you know, it's hard to hear anything negative come out of any snooty or high strung suburban residents mouth's.

The only saving grace is being able to be with him. Everyday, give or take. But this week he will be under your care entirely. After what happened to Chrissy Cunningham, and what happened after, which is regarded as 'the incident', the town of Hawkins did nothing to cover Eddie's medical bills. Despite the fact that he and your friends became faces of a bullshit cover story - to save everyone else's asses.

Wayne has been doing doubles for the past four months and twenty nine days, but his boss has given him an out of town gig that pays twice as much, and goddamn it he will make everything right again. That's his words, not yours. Wayne has taken it hard, understandably so.

You had to explain to him, and your boyfriend alike, that you love Eddie. Dearly, without judgement, with an open heart and mind. Eddie isn't a pass off, and you making sure he's alright is second nature, not obligatory in any definition of the word.

Eddie hates this feeling, admittedly. Like he's a burden, like he's got to be watched after and like everyone has to redirect their lives for him of all people. You'd kill him if he ever said that out loud. The only thing that makes it even remotely worth it, is that you're the one here by his side every day. And not just at the hospital anymore, but here, in his home.

Now, you're gonna be a permanent resident for the foreseeable future and he can't hide his excitement despite the physical pain he's in.

"Eddie, Eds, baby -" Your scolding falls on deaf ears and turns into a full blown giggle before you're able to establish any actual authority. The brunette is too worried about kissing your face like an overly excited golden retriever, elated that you're finally here. "you're not healed."

You keep your eyes from staring at the mauve and plum colored scar that decorates the side of his neck.

He groans petulantly, nipping your earlobe. His chest and back and sides are still on fire after all this time. It doesn't really go away, it just simmers down like someone has stopped on the flames. He's gotten used to it, but not enough to push it. Not enough to forego your advice and pounce you like he normally would.

"l probably won't ever be healed, what harms' a little lovin'?" He toys with the strands of your hair that are unruly, smiling down at you like he hasn't been through the literal pits of hell and back. It'll never not amaze you, his resilience. He doesn't even notice it in the creases of his smile lines or the shake of his hands.

"We have plenty of time for lovin', Munson. Just not right away. I haven't even gotten a good look at your pretty face."

His blush burns across his nose, cheeks, and brow bone. You reach up to cup his jaw, to stroke his skin. He leans into the touch like he hasn't felt your warmth in eons, sighing through his nostrils. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and opens them when you lean in to kiss his chin.

"I really...I'm glad you're here. You don't have to -"

You flick his nose.

"Shut up, I love you, dummy. Don't you know that I practically begged Wayne to let me tend to sweet little Eddie? Hmm?" You've grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair, swinging it above his head like puppy dog ears. He chortles, scrunching his face.

"and by the way, you're right. I don't have to do anything. I want to." His cheeks are squishy and moldable between your palms, lips pouty and too kissable to bear.

He believes you. He believes it in the way you peck his mouth over and over again, little strings of your shared saliva in the middle. He believes it in the way you allow him to wrap his arms around your middle and pull you close to his still healing body. In the way you trust him enough to let him grab your hands and place them on his waist.

You tense, and then relax when he pulls away with sparkles in his eyes.

"Just didn't want anyone else to be here playin' doctor with me, did ya sweetheart?"

The nights always start the same. Eddie gets up halfway between the movie that's on, wincing and giving you an apologetic smile. Cold showers help when they burn, which seems to happen mostly at night. You're still new this, to the interdimensional eldritch horror situation - but you know enough about it through Dustin Henderson's graphic retellings to know that it is having some residual effects.

As far as when they will go away, if they go away, everyone is still in the dark about it. No one has had such awful injuries from being in the Upside Down, and survived.

Doctor Owens is only sure about a few things. It won't spread. And it won't kill him. However, the pain will stay as long as the scars do.

Eddie is still apprehensive about letting you see them. The one on his neck is the only one that's visible. Instead of waltzing out of the bathroom with just a towel around his lithe hips, he returns fully dressed, wet hair drenching the tops of his broad shoulders. It's like this for almost an entire week.

And you're not angry, you're not hurt. You're just worried. Worried about the tossing and turning in his sleep, the fearful whimpers that sometimes escape him during the midnight hours. He sometimes even clings to you so hard in his half consciousness, that you wake up with fingerprint shaped bruises.

Tonight is no different.

His hair is still damp against his pillow case, he wriggles and writhes and mutters words you can't quite interpret. Your back is facing his, warm and solid. You feel him twitch and whine, and it tears you from the half conscious state you're in.

You roll over, carefully placing your arm around the expanse of his hip, resting your nose against the nape of his neck. This usually calms him down, sometimes he even sleeps through the whole night if you hold him like this.

"Burns..." His voice is small, almost silent. Your body reacts instantly, removing itself from his proximity so you can sit up and give him a once over. He rolls over onto his back, and a tear slips from the corner of his half opened eyes.

Your heart cracks in half, and all of your love for him spills into your body, lighting you up like a bonfire.

"What can I do? Please, tell me what to do." The lump in your throat is obtuse. He reaches out, grabbing at your arm like he's offended you left him. He blinks a few times, licks his lips, and you know he's awake now.

"Ice pack - there's an ice pack in the freezer." He sounds reluctant, like the idea of you doing anything for him when he's like this, hurts. It should be the other way around. He thinks to himself. He's in too much pain to put up a fight about it.

You bound out of bed, around his long legs and over the clutter on his floor until you're booking it towards the dark kitchen. Slinging open the freezer, you search for a quick minute until you see the blue ouch sitting atop a miscellaneous selection of frozen meat and vegetables.

A Hershey's bar in the door calls for your attention, but you save that thought for a later time.

"Got it," you breathe out, returning to the quiet room. Eddie is sitting up, panting, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His bottom lip quivers and you feel like you're breaking in half. You sit across from him, moving his hair out from in front of his face. "baby, let me see."

He stalls for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He has to prepare himself for the worst, for you being so terrified of how he looks now that you may run. He isn't the same, his body isn't the same as the one you touched before. He takes a deep breath.

"I gotta...gotta get this off." He gestures to his shirt, arms stiff from the searing pain coursing through his nerves. You move slowly, gently. You grasp the hem of his shirt, Black Sabbath, and carefully lift the material past his abdomen. A strained whine leaves his lips when it's almost over his head, when he has to lift his hands in the air so you can pull it off.

The moonlight is beautiful. A pale iridescent light that serves as a reminder, I'm here you're safe, I'm bathing lovers in my essence. It's the only thing that illuminates his body, the still healing skin. They're pink and purple and form ridges and valleys across his belly, sides, chest. It takes your breath away, the thought of those things doing this to him. You gasp when a tear cascades down your bottom lip.

Wiping it away fervently, you realize you've been staring. Eddie is so still you have to look up at him just to make sure he's still here.

Big brown eyes stare back at you, glossy. He looks crestfallen, like hes waiting for the worst. Waiting for you to scream, look disgusted, call him a monster. His bottom lip is wobbling again, and you are careful to avoid the injuries when you reach over and smash your lips into his.

It takes him a moment to realize that you're kissing him. Not just kissing him, you're fucking consuming him. Now he's the one breathless, clenching fist-fulls of his bed sheets while you hold his fevering face in your soft palms. Your noses are scrunched together, neither of you can breathe, and you hold it for just a moment longer so that you can taste his tongue before you're pulling away.

"Holy fuck." He pants. For some odd reason, the pain has lessened.

"Lay back, tell me which one hurts the most okay?" You say it like you his pupils aren't blown out, like his breathing isn't eerily steady. You say it like he isn't blush and kiss bitten. He listens, leaning back. How the fuck have you made him speechless?

You crawl beside him, sitting on your heels and pretend not to be disheveled. His hand has found purchase on your hip, rubbing circles against the skin that's exposed from your shirt rising up.

"The one in the middle...s'the worst." He watches you with intensity, every move, every breath. You hover over the healed wound with the blue ice pack. His belly tenses.

You're light with your hands. So gentle, all he feels is relief instead of discomfort or pain. The doctors had been rough, probably had something to do with their own biases. But you. You're a fucking angel, your touch is heavenly and all consuming. He's melting into the mattress, sighing in relief as the coolness graces his skin.

You feel your heart piecing back together, looking over to see his eyes half lidded, his tears dry. He keeps a steady pace with his thumb against your hip.

"Better? Worse? Talk to me." Your voice isn't scolding. It isn't judgmental. It's curious. He smiles like he's drunk, staring up at you. He's never looked more beautiful.

"Better, much better." There's a mischievous lilt in his tone. You quirk your eyebrow, giggling.

"What is it, Munson? You look like the cat who got the cream. Or however that goes," you trace the blue veins that branch outwards at the corner of his inner elbow. "it's cute, but I feel like I should be worried."

"I thought you'd think I was horrendous. A real freak show." He tries to sound like he's half joking, widens his eyes comically and snarls his lip sardonically - but you cock your head, confused.

Eddie thought you wouldn't love him anymore.

"Are you fucking insane?" It's the harshest you've sounded all night, and he can't help but to chuckle. It hurts his ribs, but the giggles bellow from him like smoke.

"Eddie, you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I don't say that to blow sunshine up your ass, I say it because I mean it," you stroke his face, and he seems bewildered. "you're so pretty it hurts. You always will be, to me. How could I? Why would I-?"

You sound like you're on the verge of tears again, and his bones feel heavy, stomach churning. He sits up, disregarding the burn, and places his warm palms against the sides of your neck. You look at him like he's just said something inhumane.

"Baby, hey," he presses his forehead to yours. "I love you, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, his curls tickle your face. "You don't have to be sorry Eddie, of course not. Just...I love you so fucking much."

He wants to cry again, but he doesn't. He mouths the side of your cheeks. Your eyelids. The tip of your nose. "I love you too sweetheart," he pecks your mouth. "more...more than I'll ever really be able to say." And again. And again.

You probably shouldn't be as slick between your legs as you are right now. But you can't bring yourself to feel guilty about it. Not when he's kissing you like this, the way he knows you like, in a way that you haven't felt for three entire months because of the state his body has been in.

His hair billows through your fingers, and you absentmindedly pull him closer to your mouth by the roots. He groans in your mouth, a sound that reverberates through your throat, downwards behind your ribs. It flurries through your body like a memory that's so close you can taste it; feel it.

You pull back hastily, wired from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. He looks so goddamn pretty, so messy and raw. You stroke his plump bottom lip with your thumb. He resists the urge to suck it into his mouth. He doesn't know if you're ready for that type of thing yet.

"I wanna suck you off, Eddie."

Well fuck.

He looks as incredulous as you expect, eyes practically bugging out of his head. His cheeks puff outwards when he lets a breath out.

"Really? You're serious?" He knows the answer. You're looking at him like he's the reason for your starvation.

"I want to...I want to make you feel good Eds," his cock was already growing, now it's practically bursting at the seams. You grab his big hands, bringing rough knuckles to the surface of your lips. "wanna make you cum. Will you let me? Do you want that?"

He feels a little dizzy. He honestly didn't know when you two would ever be able to do anything like this again. Hell, he couldn't fathom you liking his appearance anymore, let alone asking to suck his dick with the lilt of a beg in your voice.

"Jesus Christ, yeah baby 'course I want it. Y-you're sure you want this- ohh, ohh sweetheart."

You've already brought your palm to his pants, stroking the twitching appendage underneath. He's so touch deprived he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for throwing his head back, gripping at the sheets once again for dear life.

You don't want to wait. You're set a fire on the inside, between your legs aches to be filled but you're too focused on making him feel good to really want anything done about it. Him. That's what matters right now. The desperate groan that escapes him, the vein bulging at his jugular.

"Lay back baby." You kiss his throat, and he does as you ask.

You're careful when you kiss his chest. You move around the scars, teetering around the perimeters. He's stuck between wanting to close his eyes, and wanting to watch every move you make. You're careful, delicate like he's the most important thing in the world.

As you kiss the trail of hair underneath his belly button, across alabaster hip-bones, you pull his bottoms off all the while.

From your position, it nudges against your chin when it's out of the confines of his pajamas, dribbling with precum, sticky all the way down the shaft. You coo, kissing the tops of his thighs. Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. He's never felt this vulnerable, this fucking horny. His balls are about to burst.

"Eddie...you're so hard. Baby, mm, my boy." You grip the very base, starting your mouths ascent from there. He whimpers into the cool air of his bedroom, holding on by a very thin veil of consciousness. Your elbows rest between his thighs, belly atop his mattress. You close your eyes and hum when you get to the swollen, ruby tip.

"Oh god - please," he doesn't know what he's begging for. For your mouth, your being, your soul. His fingers grasp your face as your tongue gathers the pre arousal that's made such a mess of him. You have to hold his shaft steady so that the twitching doesn't move him away from your lips. "feels so fucking good, you've no idea."

The praise is getting to your head. You feel wetness leaking from your hole, dripping into your underwear. You pull his cock forward slightly, angling it so that you can take him in your mouth.

His whole body clenches when you slide it in.

He's moaning obscenities into the wind, writhing like he's too overwhelmed to think. He is. It's been so long. Too long, since he felt you like this. Since he felt your mouth. You're feeling the same sentiment as you begin to stroke what you can't fit, from the thatch of brunette hair to the glossy head. The salty aftertaste of his pre-cum keeps you satiated.

It's intoxicating, being able to make him feel like this. Feeling him fill your mouth and throat up like this. Just knowing the sounds he's making are not only for you but because of you - that's enough to have you on the verge of an indescribably neediness yourself.

"Taste' so good Eds, missed this."

It's barely coherent, but he knows your voice too well - knows your sweet talk too well. The most excruciating part is that you mean it, you say it with so much truth he feels it in every part of his body.

You suck him off like you've missed it as much as he has. Because you have. You're not shy, not ashamed. The sounds are lewd and sticky and wet, it's driving him fucking mad. He reaches down to grasp one of.your hands that are around his cock, replacing it with the intertwinement of his fingers.

You take him further, till the head of his cock touches your uvula, and you gag. Eddie groans like he's in pain, but you know he isn't. He's thrusting up into your mouth, chasing all of your warmth, all of your spit even though most of it has leaked from your mouth and coated his balls and inner thighs.

"Ohhhh shit, m'gonna cum baby I can feel it," he looks down, fucked completely out by this point. You're a fucking goddess, messy hair and a wet mouth and fluttering lashes. "don't stop, p-please."

You wouldn't dream of it, not when he's so close. Not when you can feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching, convulsing. Not when he sounds so pretty, so unbelievably yours.

You moan around him, elated by the fact that you're able to please him like this, and Eddie is a goner.

"Cu-cumming!" He's barely able to breathe it out.

He shoved his face into the pillow beside him, biting down on the fabric. The sound that rips through him is animalistic, and you have to use a good bit of your strength to keep his thighs parted as he spurts his seed into your mouth, down your throat.

You don't let up until you've swallowed every drop, every remnant of his arousal. His chest is rising and falling with such a rapid pace, you're almost worried you've hurt him.

But then he's looking down at you, with your mouth releasing from his semi softening cock. He's got glossy eyes again, blotches of red on his neck and chest and face. His hair is sticking to him like saran wrap and this big, dopey smile is etched across his face. His tongue darts out to lick the perspiration from his upper lip.

He doesn't have to ask for you to start moving towards him. When you're in close enough proximity, where he can actually manage to move a limb, he's grabbing your face and pressing your lips to his like a man starved.

Your giggle echoes his own.

"When I'm mobile again," he suckles your tongue, tasting himself.

"I'm showing you no mercy, sweetheart"

[vendetta-if]

Okay... Every. Single. Time. I see the hickey ask on an IF blog I follow, I feel the NEED to post this follow up:

What if very shortly after that, the ROs catch / hear the MC asking someone (or even if the MC asks THEM, depending on the context) if they have something to soothe mild allergic reactions to mosquito bites, because they got one on their neck.

So basically, how would they react when faced to the reveal it wasn't a hickey at all but a dumb mosquito bite!

Here goes out to all of you hickey anons and non-anons 🤭❤️ Also, the link to the infamous hickey ask is here for those who haven’t read it!

Ash

“Wait, wait, Ash!” They hear MC calls out to them and they stop in place. Oh, how they just want to bolt away from this nightmare, but maybe this is also a chance to just face it head-on.

“Ash, what’s wrong?” MC asks as Ash turns around to face them. Ash doesn’t really know what kind of face they’re wearing right now.

“Who was it, MC?” They ask, voice hoarse.

“Who, what?” MC asks in genuine confusion, which just irritates Ash even more.

“The one—The one who gave you… those marks!” They gesture at MC’s neck.

MC’s eyes widen. “What?! No! Nobody gave me these marks. These are goddamn mosquito bites,” MC explains as they scratch their neck. “I swear once I get my hands on those bastards…” They mutter under their breath.

Ash just stands there dumbfounded. “M—Mosquitoes?” Those are not… They glance down and just notice MC is holding a can of bug spray. Oh… Oh no… How could you think the worst of MC, Ash?

“Yeah, pesky bastards. Don’t tell me you didn’t have any in your room last night?” MC says, scanning Ash up and down for a second before concluding, “Oh, you didn’t, don’t you?”

“N—No,” Ash replies truthfully.

“Motherfuckers probably thought your blood is too hot to drink or something,” MC mumbles irritatedly. “Well, I’m gonna spray the whole penthouse now, if you don’t mind.” MC raises the can in their hand like a weapon.

“Uh… Yeah, please do that,” Ash says stupidly. “And, uh… Just forgot what I said earlier…” A surge of relief washes through their whole body, but it soon gets tainted by embarrassment.

“Aww, were you jealous?” MC smirks teasingly.

“Uh—Um…” Ash stammers. “I—I gotta go! See you later, MC!” They splutter in panic before bolting away for real this time.

Oh my God, MC is not gonna let them live this down, won’t they…

Rin

Rin decides not to embarrass themself further and chooses to just ignore MC, pretending not to see or notice them entering the room. They’re not going to lower themself to ask MC about the marks.

Honestly, they’d rather MC leave them alone for now. But of course, the opposite of what they want always happen. They groan inwardly as they see MC walking over to where they’re standing from the corner of their eye.

They steel themself for an unwanted conversation. They’re good at that.

“Hey, Rin,” MC greets them and they just grunt softly in reply. MC doesn’t even notice their curt reply, seemingly distracted by something else.

Oh, I bet their mind is still filled by whatever happened last night…

“Uh, this might be a weird question,” MC begins sheepishly as Rin just keeps staring at them unamusedly. “But, do you know any kind of salve or medicine that can help with these mosquito bites?” They ask, scratching at the marks on their neck.

Rin blinks. There’s no way that excuse would work on them. “Really?” They reply skeptically as they gesture at MC’s neck. “You’re bitten by mosquitoes in your penthouse?”

“I know right? I don’t even know how they managed to get in considering my penthouse is like… at the top floor of a skyscraper,” MC agrees, missing the point Rin is insinuating. “Probably through the elevator or the air vent or something. Anyway, Uncle Luka said he’ll personally get a professional pest extermination service to deal with that.”

Well, Rin did catch their father talking with Luka on the phone about choices of professional pest extermination services available in the city. For some reason, Luka asked their dad as if he knows anything more about it than Luka does. Maybe MC is telling the truth and it’s their paranoia and distrust running rampant once again…

Rin uncrosses their arms—when did they even cross them in the first place? “Uh… Tiger balm works wonder for bug bites,” Rin advises.

“Tiger balm, huh?” MC repeats. “Alright, I’ll just go get it at the nearest drug store. Be right back,” they say before swiftly making their way to the elevator.

Meanwhile Rin is left standing there, still processing what has just happened in the span of a few minutes.

Santana

“Hey, Santana!” MC greets them as they walk over to where Santana is standing.

Santana is already cringing inside at the potential awkwardness of the conversation. They’ll still try their best to try talk normally with MC, but it’s kinda hard with the hickeys still heavy in their mind.

“Um… Hi, MC,” they greet back cordially.

“So, how was your night? Had enough sleep?” MC asks them.

“Well, like usual,” they answer distractedly. “How about you? Seems like you had a wild night…” They gesture at the general direction of MC’s neck.

Oh my God, Santana! What the heck are you doing? Asking about the thing you wanted to avoid talking in the first place?! You idiot!

“Oh, you won’t believe this,” MC begins enthusiastically. “So, I was sleeping pretty soundly for like half the night, before my neck started to feel really itchy. I kept getting dragged out of sleep as I scratched at it. Woke up the next morning, and lo and behold, I just got frickin bitten by the most vicious mosquitoes of Elysium City,” they complain, tilting their head a bit to show them of the “hickeys” which turn out to be mosquito bites.

“Huh?” Santana remarks intelligently as they stare at the marks. Okay, now that they can see them better and closer, they do seem like bug bites instead of hickeys.

“I know right?” MC agrees, with… what? Santana is not sure because their mind is blank right now. “Don’t ask me how the mosquitoes managed to break into my penthouse, which, mind you, is located at the top of a skyscraper.”

“That… That is indeed weird,” Santana replies, chuckling in a mix of amusement and relief. It seems like their fear is unfounded after all.

MC continues their rant about the pesky mosquitoes and their plan on eradicating them from their penthouse. Santana just smiles softly as they listen to every word.

Skylar

Skylar quickly makes their way to MC before anyone else manage to make a conversation with them. MC stops in their track as they notice Skylar approaching.

“Hey, MC!” Skylar greets in faux-cheeriness.

“Oh, hey, Skylar,” MC greets back. “What’s up?”

“Well, I should be the one asking you that,” Skylar says, the grin on their face feels very strained but they hope it won’t show and that it still looks charming on the surface. “Who’s the lucky person?” They ask straight to the point, gesturing at the general area of MC’s neck.

“Certainly not me,” MC groans as they rub at their neck. “Just had one of the worst nights of the month.”

“Oh?” Skylar prompts, hopefulness crammed into that one single sound.

Inside, they’re gleeful though. It seems like whoever MC was sleeping with last night must’ve sucked balls—no possible pun intended. Well, this is their time to shine! Skylar would be more than happy to show MC how it’s really done!

“Yeah! I kept waking up at the middle of the night because these annoying mosquito bites were so damn itchy!” MC complains, scratching at their neck again.

Skylar nods before stopping. Wait, what? Mosquito bites? “What?” They ask, dumbfounded. The marks… they’re not…

MC doesn’t seem to notice Skylar’s confusion as they continue ranting, “I don’t even know how they managed to get in! My penthouse is located at the top of a fricking skyscraper!”

A sense of relief floods through Skylar, and their strained grin has shifted into a mischievous one. “Well, I know of a remedy to help with the bites.”

“Wait, really?” MC looks at them curiously. “What’s that?”

“I heard kisses can work wonder.” Skylar winks before pursing their lips and making kissy noises. “I’m always available to help, you know. Just give me a call whenever you’re ready.”

Skylar can practically see the blood surging up to MC’s cheeks. “Y—You—” they stammer. “You idiot! T—That’s not real! If you’re not going to help, then I’ll go to buy some real medicine for these bites instead!” MC harrumphs adorably, turning away to walk to the elevator.

Aww, MC is soo cute! It makes Skylar feels warm and gooey inside as they chuckle to themself. “Well, my offer will always be open! Whether you have more bug bites in the future or not!” They call out to MC’s receding back.

MC doesn’t even turn and just flips them the middle finger instead before stepping inside the elevator. Oh, they love MC.

[dragon-kazansky]

Veil of the dreamless

Morpheus x Reader

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Two - Curse of the Dreaming

☆☆☆

The figure steps out of the shadows, and you feel yourself unable to breathe. He is unlike anything you have ever seen before. He is unnatural.

From head to toe, he is covered in feathers. Two large wings sprout from his back. They are large and make him even scarier to look at. His eyes are the most piercing blue, however.

"You dare make demands of me in my own castle?" He growls through his teeth.

"Let my father go."

"Never!"

"Then I'll take his place!"

"No!" Your father yells. He begs and pleads over and over.

"You would take his place?" The creature asks.

"Yes... send him home, and I will stay as your prisoner... Punish me instead." You look him in the eye.

"Foolish mortal. You would take his place for his freedom? You're a lot more stupid than I thought."

"I don't care. Insult me all you like. Just let my father go..."

Your father tries to plead again, but the creature ignores him. He holds up his claw like hand and blows what looks like sand toward your father. You turn and gasp as he vanishes from the cell. You turn to ask where he went, but you find yourself pushed into the cell. It locks behind you.

"You made your choice. Live with it."

The "King of Nightmares" vanishes back into the shadows. The candle nearby distinguishes. You're left with only the dark for company.

You sigh as you sit in the cell. You curl up into a ball and think of your father. You think of Hob.

The Dreaming is real, but it is nothing like you read about. This place... was a nightmare.

Some time passes. You're not sure how much of it, though. The darkness seems to stretch on for ages. You're about to nod off when you hear a sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You slowly rise from where you lay on the ground. You can't see through the dark, but you can hear the tapping and the sound of wings flapping.

"Goddamn it, open." Someone grunts.

"Hello?" You call out.

"Just... just hold on!" He says.

"Who's there?"

The tapping continues, and within moments, light floods the hallway. You blink to adjust to the sudden brightness and then find yourself looking at a woman, who had just lit the candles, and.... a bird?

"Are you alright?" The woman asks.

"Yes..." You stand up. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lucienne. This is Matthew." You look at the bird as she gestures to it.

"The crow?"

"Raven," he corrects.

"You talk?"

"Yeah. Get used to it." He caws.

You look back at Lucienne, who smiles slightly. She can tell by looking at you that you have questions. She reaches over and pulls the lever near by, the gate to the cell opens. Matthew had been trying to pull it himself, but couldn't.

"Come with me."

You cautiously step out of the cell. "Who are you? What are you?"

Lucienne smiles. "I am the librarian. Or was."

You tilt your head as you try and piece everything together.

"Should you be letting me out?"

Lucienne goes silent for a moment before speaking. "Not exactly, but I can not sit by and let you stay in that cell. You leave Lord Morpheus to us."

"Lord Morpheus?"

"The man you met earlier."

"Man?"

Lucienne sighs softly. "I'll explain later."

The librarian leads you up the dark stairs and into a dimly lit hall. Matthew flies over your head and goes on ahead. You continue to follow Lucienne as she leads you through the palace.

There is no sign of that creature you saw earlier. The whole building is eerily quiet.

You are led up a set of stairs and down the Eastern hall. Lucienne brings you to a nicely decorated room. You step inside and look around. A nestly made bed sits up against against wall, and a large wardrobe takes up one corner. There is a large window that has a view over the front of the palace.

"You can stay in here."

You turn and look at Lucienne. "In this room?"

"Yes. It's much more comfortable than sleeping in a cell." She smiles.

"Are you sure this will be okay?"

"You let me worry about Lord Morpheus. You just enjoy the room."

You walk in a little further. "I... I read a book about dreaming. A realm where dreams take place. The description of the palace in the book kind of matches this one, but everything feels so off here. It's all so much darker... emptier."

Lucienne glances down at her shoes before meeting your eyes again. A look of deep-rooted sadness crosses her expression. "The Dreaming was once such a place, yes. That was a long time ago."

"What happened?" You ask softly.

Matthew perches on the end of the bed and looks up at you. "The curse."

"Thr curse? Like... the kind in fairytales?"

"Yes, quite," Lucienne confirms.

"I want to know." You say, sitting down on the bed.

"It was almost a century ago."

"A century?"

"Yes. This is the Dreaming. We, that is, those of us who live here are immortal. Dream was visited by one of his siblings. Unfortunately, things did not end well. Desire decided to get back at Dream in the worst way they could. They made a deal. The result was a curse."

"So he didn't always look like that?" You ask, voice turning soft.

"No. He was human looking. I'd show you a painting if we had any, but he despised looking at himself after the curse." Lucienne explains.

"And I assume there were others here?"

"Yes. Many of us. Thousands. But ad the years went by, more and more of them left. Lord Morpheus became... difficult to deal with. I can't say I blame them for leaving."

"But you stayed. Matthew too."

"Yes. I'm very loyal to our King. I shall stay as long as possible."

"Me too!" Matthew chimes in.

You smile at the pair of them. "At least he's not completely alone."

Lucienne smiles, too. "Lonliness would only make him worse. He needs the company, even if he denies it."

"Isn't there a way to break the curse?" You ask curiously.

"Well..." Lucienne and Matthew glance at each other. "If there is, we're not sure what it is."

You don't pick up that she's lying.

"Oh..."

"I'll leave you to rest. I'll bring you up some dinner later."

You thank her and watch both Lucienne and Matthew leave. You sigh as you close the door behind them and turn back to the room. You decide to rest. There was a lot that had happened today and you needed to gather your thoughts.

Lucienne and Matthew headed down the hall.

"Do you think they're the one?" Matthew asks.

Lucienne sighs quietly. "Quite possibly."

"Are we going to meddle?"

Lucienne smiles. "A little meddling shouldn't hurt."

Matthew caws.

☆☆☆

@littleblackcatinwonderland - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @missdreamofendless -

[shuttershocky]

The reason there's no DMC6 yet is because the only playable character is gonna Lady so they need to figure out her moveset so its perfect. I'm not coping of course not.

This is going to be blasphemy and sacrilege to say (on the same level as "DMC2 isn't unplayable" which I DO NOT ACTUALLY THINK BTW) but I think we're more than ready to get a Devil May Cry game without Dante. From how badly the girls got sidelined in 5 while teasing a Lady and Trish adventure that we never got, they deserve at least a full game.

Shit, make it a whole girl's night. Bring Lucia back and put her in an actually playable game. Expand Lady's moveset and so she's not just Gunslinger-only but DMC3-strength Gunslinger+++, she's called the walking arsenal for god's sake, give her twice the guns Dante has. Trish doesn't have the demon sword Sparda anymore so have Nico fashion up a big sci-fi scythe for her. V's summoner playstyle was undercooked in 5 and deserves a second chance but V himself can't be reused? Well it turns out Patty's a big girl now and she's the descendant of an incredibly powerful demon summoner so... Make her inherit V's playstyle (just replace the demons since they can't be DMC1 enemies anymore) but have actual attack and movement options for the summoner beyond just Royal Fork so Patty can fight and actually style on enemies, while adding more of the summoner-summon interactions that made V actually pretty cool like the ability to walk on Shadow's skewer or ride on Nightmare to force Domination.

And because gamers are going to cry if there's not a single man in the playable cast, Nero's still on Earth, except he now has both robot limbs and devil limbs, which made DMC5 Nero on new game plus play like a goddamn dream. Dante even officially left Nero in charge of Devil May Cry while he's in hell, so just have Nero in the office surrounded by all the girls. Everyone around's gonna think he's a debonair lady's man when he's actually a married guy surrounded by women his very poor uncle owes money to.

Besides, I think there's a lot of fun potential in Nero and Patty meeting each other. Both of them were orphans that eventually had run-ins with Dante, and Patty even posed as Dante's daughter while they traveled, making Patty the closest thing Nero can have to a weird cousin. They're even opposites in attitudes, with Nero being an unrefined gorilla (Nico herself can't explain how Kyrie fell for him) while 8 year old Patty was a pink balloons, flowers, plushies, and sundaes girl that probably stayed just as girly even when she grew into an adult. They would not work well together. Kyrie would love her though.

And fine of course Dante wouldn't actually get skipped over, it's just that being tied to Vergil means he's gotta play by Vergil's rules. This means the inevitable DMC6 Special Edition comes with both Vergil and Dante in a special mini campaign in hell on their mission to prune the underworld's biggest plant with the tiniest possible garden shears, the Yamato and the Devil Sword Dante. Maybe they piss off Mundus with their lawnmowing and that's what causes Mundus to launch an invasion on Earth, causing the events of the main story.

[suckerfordylansstuff]

New Journey (S.H.) Chapter 5 Season 4

Pairing: Steve Harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: Back to Hawkins for spring break. Y/n believed it would just be a quiet time to cherish with her loved ones, but one day in and another mess had already began.

Warnings: cursing

Notes: This chapter is slightly longer than the rest because I realized this season is going to be like... idk 15 chapters by the time I finish, so... yeah. Getting closer to the action so excited for you to see that. Enjoy this chapter and stay safe!💕

Chapter 4 << Masterlist >> Chapter 6

You arrived at Hawkins High quickly, rushing to get inside and find the rest. When you spotted Steve and the kids, you felt relief to see them alive. But that feeling was quickly replaced by dread as Steve was over Max who was lying on the floor.

“It was here. Right here.” the redhead explained to you after she got off the ground and calmed herself down. She was looking forward to a wall in front of you, searching for something that clearly wasn’t there.

“A grandfather clock?” Nancy asked.

“It was so real. And then, when I got closer, suddenly I just… I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a trance or something. Exactly what Eddie said happened to Chrissy.” Dustin’s face was filled with worry, even though he wanted to mask it. Hearing his words made you all imagine the worst about your dear friend.

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Miss Kelley for help. Uh, they both were having headaches, bad headaches that wouldn’t go away. And then… then the nightmares. Trouble sleeping. They’d wake up in a cold sweat. And then they started seeing things. Bad things. From their pasts. And these visions, they just… they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually… everything ended.” Max explained to you and the girls who had missed their part of the plan.

“Vecna’s curse.” Robin stated.

“Chrissy’s headaches started a week ago. Fred’s six days ago. I’ve been having them for five days. I don’t know how long I have.” you immediately opened your mouth to argue but Max shot her hand up, stopping you before moving on “All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than 24 hours after their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock, so… looks like I’m gonna die tomorrow.”

Before any of you could say anything, clanging began echoing through the halls. You tensed up and looked at Steve to see his next move. His eyes fell on you and without hesitation took the responsibility in his shoulders.

“Stay here.” he told all of you before picking up a lamp that was next to him, leaving the room and you behind. You knew that he was never scared to confront anything that came your way, but he also knew that none of you ever listened to him, so it was a matter of time before he heard footsteps following him.

You were right behind him, ready to assist him in any way possible. You focused on the noises, the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer to you. Steve lifted his arms and the lamp, ready to strike when he saw the intruder round the corner you were in. However, a yelp fell from your mouth the moment you saw the face before you was a familiar one. Luckily, Steve’s reflexes were quick so he stopped his movement before he could hit Lucas, who started screaming along with the rest of you.

“It’s me!” the poor boy exclaimed, his voice heavy as he panted.

“Lucas?” Nancy asked out of pure confusion.

“It’s me!”

“Jesus. What’s wrong with you, Sinclair?” Steve yelled at the kid.

“I’m sorry.” Lucas exhaled deeply, trying to find his breath.

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp.” your boyfriend cried out, clearly shaken up over this.

“Lucas, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to find some answers to this whole mess. Why is he here? Did he follow you?

“I’m sorry, guys. Sorry. I was… I was biking for eight miles. Give me a second.” he held up his finger to you, as he took deep breaths in and out “Shit. We’ve got a code red.”

“What?” Steve asked, the lamp now on the floor next to him.

“Dustin.” Lucas walked up to your brother “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone like totally off the rails. They’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is. You’re in terrible danger.” your eyes opened wide at his words.

“All right, yeah, that- that definitely sucks, but we’ve got bigger problems than Jason right now.” Dustin looked over at Max, Lucas quickly following his eyes. You watched as the boy’s face fell and the realization hit him the moment he saw the girl he loved. Something was wrong and it was far bigger than Jason.

After last night’s crazy adventure, you returned back to safety but this time you spent the night at the Wheeler’s basement. It was kind of weird being here without Mike. You kept trying to reach out to the rest in California, but the line was always busy. Dustin blamed Joyce’s new job.

So, since you couldn’t find anyone else to help, you figured it was up to you to solve this mystery. Just like old times you thought.

Nancy and Robin had talked with you early in the morning about what they were planning on doing. You nodded as you listened to the plan “Your only job right now is to inform the rest about what we found. Easy peasy.” and sure, you would have agreed with Nancy’s statement if you weren’t dealing with three boys who share three brain cells.

“Okay, be honest. Uh… You guys understand any of this?”

“No.”

“Pretty straightforward.”

You were showing Steve, Lucas and Dustin, the newspaper article you had found at the library, and your brother, being the group’s, know-it-all decided to showcase his smarts to the rest who clearly weren’t having it, especially your boyfriend. He was pacing back and forth as he read the papers in his hands, while you were sat in the armchair, the kids on the sofa next to you.

“Oh, straightforward, really?” Steve asked Dustin impatiently.

“Well, what’s confusing to you? So far, everyone Vecna has cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor. If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him.” Dustin explained as you sat and listened to their conversation, waiting for a moment to let you explain your findings.

“Yeah, that’s assuming he was cursed, Henderson, which we don’t even know. How can Vecna have existed back in the ‘50s? It doesn’t even make sense.” Steve said, mostly to himself as he scratched his head, trying to make sense of what you told him.

“As far as we know, Eleven didn’t create the Upside Down. She opened a gate to it. The Upside Down has probably been around for thousands of years. Millions. I wouldn’t be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs? Okay, what are we-” Steve was ready to argue with him when Lucas’s voice cut him off.

“Okay, okay, but if a gate didn’t exist in the ‘50s, how did Vecna get through?”

“Oh, and how’s he getting through now?” Steve pointed at Lucas, continuing on the question.

“And why now?”

“And why then? Just pops out in the ‘50s, kills one family, and he’s like, ‘Eh, I’m good’. And poof, he just disappears. Just… gone? Only to return 30 years later and start killing some random teens? No, I don’t buy it. Have you guys thought of anything?” your eyes landed on Steve when you realized he was asking you something, but you were quick to turn down his hopes over an explanation.

“Not anything that you haven’t said right now. I mean, it makes sense that this is connected to the Upside Down, you can’t explain it any other way. But how is it connected? How he came into our world now and then is something we haven’t solved. I just- I don’t know…” you sighed and shrugged your shoulders, accepting defeat.

“See, Henderson, it’s 3 to 1. Straightforward, my ass. You know, honestly, a little humility every now and then, it wouldn’t hurt you.” your eyes followed Steve who moved to sit on the armchair opposite to you, pointing his finger at Dustin.

“Sorry.” he said, but you could tell he didn’t mean it.

Silence filled you for a moment before Dustin’s interest picked up again when his eyes fell on Max “Any idea what she’s writing?” you and the rest followed his eyes and watched the said girl, hunched over the desk in the basement, writing on papers without ever stopping “Did she sleep?”

“I mean… would you?” Lucas asked him.

Just then the door at the top of the stairs opened, revealing Nancy and Robin who had just returned after perfecting the plan you had come up with.

“Okay, so… We have a plan.” Nancy announced, passing to you the 2 folders she had on her hands. After checking out their work, you handed it to the rest of the group.

“Thanks to Nancy’s newspaper minions, we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame.” Robin started explaining enthusiastically. She was leaning on the staircase while Nancy sat on a stool next to her.

“I’m now Ruth.”

“And I’m Rose.” Nancy and Robin told you one by one.

“Ruth?” Steve questioned as he looked over one of the folders.

“Nice GPA.” Dustin started which made Nancy smile.

“Thanks. So, we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics-”

“To which they said no.” Robin cut in, her words making you scoff.

“Can’t imagine why.”

“But we landed a 3 o’clock with the director.” Nancy informed you.

“Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor.” Robin continued the plan.

“And then maybe we can rid Max of this curse.” your friend’s eyes fell on Max’s figure.

“Yeah, about that? We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh… we got some questions.”

“Lots of questions.” Lucas agreed with Steve’s statement, to which Nancy and Robin could only nod their heads to.

“So do we. Hopefully, Victor has the answers.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” Steve said immediately after Nancy stopped talking. Confusion had filled his face as he pointed between the two of you “Uh… Where’s ours?” he held up one of the folder’s, chuckling as if he missed a vital piece of information.

“Steve. We’re not going.” you explained to him as a matter of fact.

And with this simple sentence, chaos erupted. You were now following behind Steve, who was following Nancy to her room to get prepared for the plan, arguing about his place in the group.

“You guys are outta your mind if you think I’m babysitting again.” Steve’s voice was loud as you stepped inside Nancy’s room.

“We need to keep them safe. What don’t you understand about that?” you argued back, your hands on your hips. Nancy was ignoring the situation as she started searching her closet.

“I know, but why does it always have to be me?” his body was now facing you, throwing his hands around with exaggeration.

Suddenly Robin came through, which pulled your attention from the arguing “Oh my God, you have a Tom Cruise poster. You have a Tom Cruise poster.” her smile was sly and aimed at Nancy who immediately got flustered.

“That’s old. It’s just. Can you please not touch anything?” you shook your head, removing yourself from that conversation, and returned to the one that mattered to you.

“Steve, what is the problem? Please, just say what you’re thinking for once.” you pleaded him, and after a moment of stuttering he pulled his thoughts together.

“I just- I can’t- I can’t do anything here to actually help. Do you feel like you’re helping?”

“Max is in danger, Steve. There is no way she’s staying here alone without an adult to help her. You don’t think that’s important?” you looked up at him. You knew you sounded like a mother scolding her child, but when he’s acting like a kid not getting his way, your behavior was called for.

“No, of course I do, but I do kind of want to get out into the field just once. You know maybe I can truly help with the asylum director. Maybe, like, turn on my charm.”

“Not the kind of charm we need.” Nancy interrupted you, which made Steve turn his head to her, a frown on his face.

“Ouch.”

“No, I just… I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay? This is a lifelong student of the world, and if we’re gonna win him over, we’re gonna have to convince that him we are too. That like him, we are true academic scholars.”

“Holy shit. There’s a little ballerina in here.” Robin was once again in her own little world, making Steve scoff.

“Academic scholar? She’s giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah.” he said sarcastically making Nancy shrug her shoulders.

“Well, Y/n refused to join so we didn’t really have a choice.”

“You would have gone without me?” Steve whined at you.

“Did you miss the part where I said no?”

Before you could continue disagreeing, Nancy took your attention by holding up a pink dress she had pulled out of her closet “But it doesn’t matter because anyone will look the part with this…” the silence made Robin look up and stop her snooping when she realized the dress was meant for her.

“Oh, please, tell me that you’re joking?”

Steve had never felt more defeated as he sat on the couch, squished between Dustin and Lucas, trying to find something to focus on except for Max who was sitting right opposite of them, still writing.

“I know you guys are staring at me.”

“What? Sorry?”

“You said you needed something?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Yeah.”

You all told her at once, grabbing anything nearby to act as if she didn’t catch you staring at her. You busied yourself with a yo-yo that was lying on the floor.

“How do you think your eyes boring into the back of my head is protecting me from Vecna, I don’t know.” you could see from the corner of your eye that Max was now out of her sacred chair and was walking towards you, but you were still focused on the very tangled yo-yo on your hands “You can look at me now.”

You let out a breath, letting the yo-yo fall from your hands back on the floor and lifting your head to watch her from your seat on the armchair.

“For you. For you. For you. For you, and, um, you.” you frowned when she began handing each of you letters “Oh, and, um, give these to Mike, El, and Will. If you can ever get a hold of them again.” she handed the rest to Lucas. You stole a glance at the guys and began opening the letter when Max’s voice stopped you “Hey what are you doing? No, don’t. That’s not for now. Don’t open it now.”

You lifted your hands up as if you surrendered to her demands when Dustin spoke up, asking the very thing you were all thinking “Don’t. Okay. I’m sorry. What is this?”

“It’s, um… It’s a fail-safe. For after… You know if things don’t work out.” your mouth fell open after hearing her words, your defense, or better denial, walls lifted up.

“What? Max, no.” you shook your head.

“Things are gonna work out.” Lucas tried to reassure her as well, but you quickly realized that this wasn’t what she was looking for.

“No! No, I don’t need you to reassure me right now and tell me it’s all gonna work out, because people have been telling me that my entire life and it’s almost never true. I mean, of course this asshole curses me. Should’ve seen that one coming.”

You teared up at her words, because even if you didn’t want to believe it, even if you knew all of you would do anything in your power to help her and keep her safe, the Upside Down was cruel, never showing mercy. You feared that her words were true and her fate was sealed, but till anything happened you were okay with being in denial. Just for a moment.

Max’s gaze traveled along the basement, finally landing on one of the radios on the table. She grabbed it and turned to ask Dustin a question “If we go to East Hawkins, will this reach Pennhurst?”

“Of course. Yeah.”

“Wait, why are we talking about East Hawkins?” you waited for an answer to come after Steve’s question, but instead of words, Max responded with a look on her face that made you incredibly anxious “No. No. No!”

“Max, we’re not going anywhere.” you stood up, trying to stop the kids from getting ready, but before you knew it you were running after Max who had walked out the basement door and headed straight for Steve’s car.

“Max! Max. Seriously. Seriously, we’re not joking, okay? I’m not driving you anywhere.” Steve’s tone was firm, but Max’s was firmer.

“If you two think I’m going to spend what is likely the last day of my life in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement, then you’re out of your minds. So, either take me where I need to go or you’re gonna have to tie me down, which is technically kidnapping of a minor. And if I live to see another day, Steve, Y/N, I swear to God, I will prosecute.” she failed to open the car door, which made her even more frustrated “Open the door.”

“Uh, no.” Steve was assertive. You, not so much.

“I know a good lawyer.” Max glared at you. She knew you were the easy one to crack, especially when deep down you knew she was right.

“Open the car.” you told Steve, making him whip his head to stare at you.

“Y/n?”

“She scares me.” you explained and nodded towards the car, silently telling him to open it. He looked into your eyes for a second before sighing and doing as he was told.

“Henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach Pennhurst.” you got inside after he unlocked the car and placed yourself in the passenger’s seat “And you’re wondering why I wanted to go on team Pennhurst. If I’m gonna be bossed around, I would prefer it not be kids doing it.” Steve was mumbling under his breath, his words winning a chuckle out of you.

“Drive.” Max demanded.

“Fine!”

The first stop you made was to her and her mom’s trailer. It was easy to get there now since all the cop cars, ambulances, and reporters had disappeared. You waited longer than you would have liked but when you were ready to go search for her, she appeared as if out of thin air, instructing you to start the car without any explanation as to what had happened or where you were now heading.

She just kept giving you the directions as you went along your way. By the time you had realized where she was taking you, you didn’t know if it was the right choice to come here, but if this was what she felt she needed, then it was the correct one.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up just sitting here.”

Just because it was the right choice didn’t mean it was easy for any of you. You couldn’t even imagine how Max was feeling.

“Yeah, me too. It’s been long enough.” Steve agreed with you, already taking off along with you to check on her.

“Please, just give her some time.” Lucas told you, but you wouldn’t listen, worry taking control over your body.

“I have, all right, Sinclair? I’m calling it. She wants to get a lawyer, she can.” Steve answered for the both of you.

As you walked up the mill, you began calling out for her “Max? Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“Time to giddy up, Max, yeah?” you crouched before Max, Steve’s body a little behind you. He stood there waiting for a response from the redhead, but all he got was a gasp and a cry for help coming out of your mouth.

Vecna had Max.

That’s all you could think about. Panic filled you as you and Steve tried to snap her out of the trance he had put her in. Watching Max’s still body and her blank eyes made your insides do flips.

Steve eventually calls out for the kids to come and help. After seeing that shaking your friend’s body is unhelpful, you tell Dustin to go and quickly call Nancy and Robin, to see if they have found anything useful.

It wasn’t long before your brother returned, carrying something in his arms. He let the stuff fall to the ground, in front of Max. It was then that you realized he had brought you Max’s Walkman and some of her music.

“What is this?” Lucas questioned, unable to guess how this would help at all.

“Her song. What’s her favorite song?” Dustin asked him, his voice raised.

“Why? Why?”

“Robin said if- if she listens- It’s too much to explain right now. What’s her favorite song?” Dustin was yelling at this point, making your brain go blank.

“It’s here. It’s right here! I got it!” luckily Lucas found the tape, and passed it to Steve, who put it in her Walkman. You placed the headphones on her head and signaled for Dustin to hit play.

You waited for something to happen but still tried calling out to her. However, when her body began lifting up in the air, you all lost your voices. You stood up, your eyes never leaving her levitating body. You yelled out her name again and again, desperately trying to wake her up.

After feeling like you were screaming for an eternity, Max’s body surrendered to gravity and fell to the ground, quickly coming out of the trance scared and panicked. Lucas took her into his arms to calm her down.

“Hey, Dustin, this is Eddie the Banished. You there? Dustin, can you hear me? Dustin?”

Your eyes fluttered open when a voice interrupted your slumber. You lifted your head up, trying to focus on the voice. You were sleeping uncomfortably on one of the armchairs, while Steve was sleeping even more uncomfortably on the floor next to you, his back supported by the armchair.

It wasn't hard to let sleep take over you after the eventful day you had yesterday, but the sleep felt short, so you were cursing the person who was right now interrupting your one moment of calm.

“Earth to Dustin.” you looked around the room to locate the noise and when you realized it was coming out of the walkie-talkie, you rushed forward to answer Eddie, careful to not knock Steve’s head.

“Yeah, Eddie, it’s Y/n.” your voice was harsh, so you slightly coughed to get it back to normal.

“The other Henderson! Hey. Um, I’m gonna need a food delivery, like, really soon, unless you want me going out into the world.” Eddie told you but you shook your head at his words.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t do that. Stay there, and we’ll come as fast as we can.” you heard a groan from your right and you looked over to see Nancy waking up due to your talking. You gave her a quick smile before focusing back on Eddie’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen, um… can you pick me up a six-pack? I know, it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now, but uh… cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves.”

You opened your mouth to agree with his request, but Nancy spoke up, catching your attention “Hey. Where’s Max?” your head whipped around to look at the couch Max was supposed to be sleeping on, finding it empty.

“Sure, um… I have to go…” you turned the radio off and shook your brother’s body.

“Dustin!” the boy just groaned “Wake up.”

“What?” Dustin asked, his whole body jerking him awake. In the process, his head rolled back and hit the TV making him groan again. You rolled your eyes, Nancy taking the detective role.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?”

“Yep. Yep, yep, yep. Sorry.” Dustin rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to wake up.

“Okay, well- Then where is she?” you questioned.

“She’s right there.” Dustin answered quickly, for a moment thinking you were dumb for not seeing that Max was right there, but his eyes widened when he saw the makeshift bed empty, realizing he had screwed up “A second ago. I swear, I just dozed off for…” he checked his watched and cringed “… an hour.”

“Shit.” you exclaimed and got up to look for Max. Nancy followed behind you. Your first thought was to get out of the basement and search the entire house. Luckily you didn’t have to get more stressed, because when you entered the kitchen you saw that Max was as safe and sound as she could be at the Wheeler’s residence, sitting with Holly at the kitchen table, drawing.

“Morning, girls. Everything okay?” Karen, Nancy’s mom, asked you. She had the sweetest smile on her face. You nodded your head at her question even though it was a lie.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s okay.” Nancy answered her mother. Dustin was now with you after exiting the basement, looking at the breakfast Karen had prepared.

“I think it’s so sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.” the woman told you, but your attention was focused on Max who had just noticed you.

“Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.” you ignored Mr. Wheeler’s snide comment and headed over to the table, sitting opposite Max and next to Nancy.

“Hey.” the girl said after removing the headphones from her ears.

“Hi. You okay?” you asked with a soft voice.

“Just couldn’t sleep. People kept blasting music in my ears for some reason.” you both chuckled a little at her joke “But Holly let me borrow some of her crayons. We’ve been having fun, right, Holly?” the little girl hummed but was clearly not paying a lot of attention to the three of you, focusing on her own toy.

“Is this… what you saw last night?” Nancy pointed at the red drawings filling the wooden table.

“I mean, it’s supposed to be. I thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“Is that?” Nancy couldn’t finish the question, just took the drawing in her hands. You leaned over to take a look, your eyes widening when you realized who she had drawn.

“It was like they were on display or something.” the girl could not shake the memory from her mind, seeing Chrissy and Fred’s bodies like this was unforgettable “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.” Max explained, her eyes almost distant.

“Do you think it was on purpose? Trying to scare you?” you asked her.

“With Billy? Yeah. But when I made it here… I dunno, something was different. He seemed surprised, almost.” you took a glance to your left and saw Dustin sit next to you, his plate filled with pancakes “Like he didn’t want me there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind. He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his? Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin suggested and Holly’s head lifted up, his words catching her attention.

“Freddie Krueger?” the small girl questioned.

“He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers. And he kills you in your dreams.” Dustin told her like it was not a big deal to say something like that to a girl.

“Dustin! Seriously?” Nancy told your brother who, after taking a look at your scolding face, realized that what he had said was wrong.

“Sorry. It’s a movie. It’s not real.” he said to Holly and quickly got back into the matter at hand “Just… think about it. What if you somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world? Like, maybe the answer we’re looking for is…” he took one of the drawings in his hands “…somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing. God, we need Will.”

“Yeah, no shit. But I tried them all this morning and it’s the same usual busy signal.” Max complained.

Dustin placed down the paper he had grabbed and your eyes landed on it while the rest talked. Something about it felt familiar to you, and when you realized how, a gasp fell from your lips.

“Nancy?” the girl hummed at the mention of her name “Doesn’t this look like…” your finger pointed at the sketch. Nancy grabbed the paper when she saw it.

“Is this a window?” she asked Max, who nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Stained glass with roses.” you told Nancy, the gears already turning in her head.

“Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.” Max said.

“Yeah, well, it helps that we’ve seen it before.” Nancy began aligning the papers to make out the image you had in your heads. She took one of the markers from the table and lined out the outlines of the house that had formed from the drawings.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max said in realization.

“Not just any house. It’s Victor Creel’s house.” you looked at them, your words widening their eyes.

You stole a glance at Nancy, before you both got up from your seats.

“Where are you going?” Dustin asked Nancy, his mouth full of pancakes.

“Waking the others.” Nancy answered him.

You made your way back to the basement, your first stop being Steve.

“Get up. Get up. Get up.” you shook his shoulder. A groan left his lips.

“Just five more minutes.” he tried to sway your hand away, but you continued to shake him.

“Now.”

He recognized the seriousness in your voice so he opened his eyes, even if the light hurt them “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“We have a lead, so we need to go. Now!”

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[bonny-kookoo]

What would happen if nightvision!jk found oc having a nightmare? especially since she seems to have a more traumatic past

Jungkook is a light sleeper.

It's normal for his kind- he tends to sleep more often throughout the day, instead of sleeping once in a deep way like you do for example. After all, in the past, his species had to survive out in the open. They didn't build shelter for themselves or live in communities- that came with evolution, a lot later, when his kind started to become more and more intelligent.

But some things still remain- such as his sleeping habits. Because of that, he rarely ever dreams, since he never enters that stage often, and when he does, he doesn't remember it nor are his dreams very clear or vivid. But you? You dream a lot. And he loves watching it, whenever you sleep and he doesn't.

The way your nose twitches, your fingers move, or how you sometimes even mumble incoherent things barely audible. It's extremely interesting and also something that makes him proud- because to have you so comfortable around him that you happily let yourself sleep, full trust in him that he will look over you, is just the biggest compliment you could give him.

But something you also experience, are nightmares.

Yoongi had explained to him that nightmares are negative dreams- bad ones that are filled with past experiences or fears. You don't really talk about what exactly you have nightmares about- but he doesn't really need you to say it, because with the way you behave, it's obvious what you must be going through whenever you're caught in those dreams.

The way your leg kicks out, how your hands seem to try and hold onto nothing, his name that you call out over and over-

and that one goddamn sentence you repeat, over and over again.

I'm not bad. I'm not bad. I'm not bad.

Good behavior had been drilled into you at the facility. You'd been absolutely brainwashed into doing exactly what you'd be told, no matter your own feelings towards those things. You weren't allowed to have opinions, or emotions, or any sense of autonomy. You were just there to act when told to, to think nothing, feel nothing.

And whenever you failed to do that, you'd earn the consequences. Whenever you've been 'bad', they'd lock you out, in a room, no lights, no sounds, no nothing. Water, and a handful of nutrition-feed. Nothing else.

Back then, he had no idea how to snap you out of that behavior. He had been lost in what to do, and in his panic, he remembers his hands on your shoulders, eyes on you, voice as authoritive as he could manage while having to see your panicked and terrified expression.

"You'll listen to me from now on. No one else, only me." He'd ordered you. "If you do what anyone else but me says, you'll be bad. And you don't want to be bad, right?" He'd asked, and you'd shaken your head almost violently, eyes instantly having teared up.

It had taken time to make you learn to own yourself again. To control your life, decide for yourself, gain back the courage to say 'No'.

But even if you've overcome a lot nowadays, that doesn't mean that the past doesn't still haunt you.

But it's fine- because he's been learning too. He's learned how to handle you, how to act around you, how to help you feel safe and protected and most of all valued and loved. So before he wakes you up, he leans over you- hands and knees on each side of your body, before he leans down to kiss your cheek, his basilisks carefully shaking you awake. And when you do, he's quick to hold your panicking body, keep you secured in his hold, offering soft words of reassurance to you.

If you hide now, you'll just have a panic attack. And he hates seeing those.

But these days, you're handling your own nightmares a lot better. You take his offered support, you hold onto him as much as you can, and you don't even cry as much either. Instead, you let him keep you up for a moment, sitting up with you on his lap, asking you random things, steering your mind away from whatever your dream had been about in order to make you forget.

And it works. Not even half an hour later, you're calm again, rubbing your head against his shoulder in an effort to scent him, and get your own smell of fear off.

"Do you wanna go watch the airships later?" He asks softly, and you nod.

"Can we get something sweet, too?" You ask quietly, and he chuckles.

"Of course." He hums, kissing the top of your head, his appendages still keeping you close to him. "Anything you want."