#is a six meeting therapy session

[ghostjelliess]

The What Color is Your Parachute mentality for finding a job gets particularly interesting when you learn that in Korean, parachute (낙하산, nak-ha-san) refers to the connections of people who flew in from the top (i.e. nepotism).

[neverendingford]

.

[marxo-fm]

Sessions

Part One. Part ii

Summary: You’re König’s therapist, and he is utterly and dangerously obsessed with you. He will do anything and everything to make you his.

Warnings: Adult themes and language, plot with smut, smut smut smut, thigh riding (omg this is crazy) stalkerish!König, toxic!König, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, König is filthy…FILTHY, praising.

Words: 4.2K

A/N: I’ve played COD before but just a little so I have no clue about it all (LMAO) but anyways my fyp is invaded with König and Ghost, not complaining, so I decided to write a little something. I heard he’s unstable (?) and there’s a bunch of fics where he has a therapist so I was like…lemme write something like this. I will give credits to writers who’ve inspired me once I find their accounts because I lost them smh. So don’t thank me for this, thank them. Also thanks to Brittany Broski, my rightful leader, for talking about König on the Broski Report Podcast. Made me want to write him some more tbh. ALSO THE GIF??? So scary in the hottest way.

It’s been awhile since König’s last therapy session with you, and it’s been driving him crazier by the minute. He realized now, just how much he wants you, how much he desperately needs you.

——

Weeks turned into days, then hours, minutes, and then seconds. Every tick of the clock had König going mental. The thought of not spending those seconds with you drove him mad and drove him with such urgency to have you by him. To be inside of you, at that.

Fists clenched then unclenched, König couldn't stand it any longer. Desperation ran in his veins like a predator watching their prey. He wanted nothing else but to see what you were up to, and visiting your home, was just the solution to his thoughts and needs.

(…)

It's been a few weeks since your appointment with König, and you're growing concerned. You look at the empty chair in your office, that's been sitting lonely for quite a few weeks. He hasn't called or informed you on why he's been absent, and you're sure he never will

In all honesty, you have no clue why you're so upset about it. Upset about a client who's been absent for weeks too much to count. Maybe it's because you can't help him anymore, well—not anymore, he's still your client. But the mere fact that he's not there to tell you about his problems and stories, or how his day was, bothered you.

Sure, he has things to do. So much more important than meeting up with your therapist right? Surely not, you want to help König to the best of your ability—but he made it so difficult.

You get a phone call that snaps you out of your haze, you pick it up. Only to hear a client of yours on the phone bringing their appointment up, which is today. "Yes! Today at six, correct." You assured, sitting down promptly on your office chair. You're glad you have clients today, something that'll keep you busy.

(…)

König is sitting outside in his car in the rain. The pattering of the rain took over his rather obsessive thoughts. Not only was he in the car alone, but he was right outside your home.

He peeks through your window, seeing only a dim light through the blinds of your house. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, chuckling to himself about how insane this all is. Going all out for your therapist? Never would he have thought to be doing such thing, but he can't help his desires.

He sighs, he gets the urge to exit his car and step foot inside your house and it made him feel dizzy. The thought of just stepping foot inside your property and seeing the items, the furniture—and so forth—that belonged to you. Something you've chosen out and purchased for yourself, with love. Now that, drove him on edge.

He finally exits his car, slamming it shut behind him. The rain drops hit his huge frame and he takes bigger steps to the front of your house. Eager to see the place you call home. The place you eat, sleep, and breathe in. It's all insane, he thought, but he's König. Insanity doesn't faze him.

"Fucking hell, the fuck am I doing?" He chuckled to himself as he somehow manipulated his way into your house. His wet boots are off and placed on the rug that says, "welcome" which is funny in this situation.

He looks around the well kept home, the dimly lit kitchen and living room, as well as the deliciously scented candle that's lit in the living room. Smells like you, coconut and bliss. He takes it in, like the maniac he is.

There was nothing really intriguing to the eye in your home, it's simple and basic, but still very homey. You had your favorite comics on the tv table and the tv was obviously shut off, books were stacked against the bookshelf and a few magazines were on the tables. You love to read, guess that's new information for König to keep to himself.

His big frame hovers over your iPad, without hesitation, he opened it. There wasn't a passcode, just a simple press of the home button and he was in, it wasn't like you had anything to hide and König found amusement in that. König chuckled, there was simply nothing on the iPad besides dates on your calendars that showed you have appointments throughout the month.

"Busy little one, aren't you, Mein Schatz?" He breathed through his mask, though he took it off for the time being, there was no reason to hide himself through a mask when home alone.

He misses you, and it's getting more painful not having you there with him, in your home. He's wondering what you're up to now, and how much time he has left before that lock of your front door turns.

It's a bad idea, he's already seen everything he wanted to see, and now it's time to leave.

Quickly, he puts his wet boots back on and turns the door knob slowly. He looks back at your place and then smiles, this surely won't be the last time he's inside. And he'll make sure it'll be the both of you inside the home at the same time.

(…)

"Anything else you'd like to share, Ghost?" You question Ghost, his eyes telling you so much he hasn't said yet, and you doubt he'll tell you more. You wish he'd say more though, but you're actually proud of today’s session. He shared more than the other sessions, that's always a huge milestone.

"No." He said sternly, his British accent thick and his voice gravely. "Okay great. I'll see you next week then?" He cleared his throat and walks to the door, "busy."

"So when are you able to?" You wonder, "I'll call when I can." He opens the door from your office and leaves. You sigh, at least you tried to the best of your abilities. You close your notebook shut, putting the notebook back into your drawer as you finally set the pen down after.

So, where we're you again? Ah, it's time to go home. Finally.

Well—not just yet. As you're getting your things ready to leave, you hear your office phone ring. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who's calling this late, all sessions are...closed.

"Hello?" You question, hearing heavy breathing over the phone—you shudder. "Schatz, it's me." The German accent rolled off the man's tongue over the phone, your heart dropped in response. König.

"K-König?" You stuttered, in disbelief at the sudden call. "Mhm, I'm calling to apologize for not coming to our sessions but if I'm being honest...I want to have a session soon this week." He explained over the phone, your brows scrunched.

You're free this week, no sessions left, well one session now. It surprised you that König chose to call you so late over an appointment, but it didn't bother you, just—stunned you. "Of course, when would you like-" König interrupts you suddenly, "tomorrow." He breathed, his voice lower than usual. Laced with huskiness and exhaustion, and need.

Tomorrow? You can't turn that down, because you know that if you do, he won't come to another session for a long time—you feared. You clear your voice over the line, heart beating faster by the second and you're not sure as to why. Must be the sudden urge to come to a session, or maybe because he wants it soon. It's not like you're busy tomorrow or anything, but the mere fact that you'll see König after God knows how long made you nervous.

Something must be wrong, you're sure of it.

"Sure! Tomorrow at two, promise me you'll be there?" He never breaks promises, not with you he doesn't. He agrees over the phone, and the date is officially set. Grabbing your pen you just placed down, you take your König's personal journal and write the date down for tomorrow.

(…)

He was trying to stay composed but it's getting hard. His desires have become more stronger by the minute, and he wanted nothing more than to have you by him.

He ended the call, smirking under the mask after finally hearing your soft voice over the phone. You invaded his mind like a virus he's unable to get rid of, but in all honesty he doesn't want to get rid of it. He would stare at pictures of you all day, and the thought that bothers him the most—the one that boils his blood—is knowing that you have sessions with other men that's not him. Most of them he despises, the other ones he's not really worried about, since well—they're his friends.

It's almost sickening how much he wants you, how much he deeply needs you. Now, König sits on his bed. Mask off and so is his shirt. Revealing nothing but his well crafted muscles and his mind going hundreds of miles per hour of just you.

And to fix that "issue" he takes his rough right hand and puts it underneath his sweats, and then under the hem of his boxers. Finally, he grabs his thick cock tightly and leans his head back. Nothing but images of you holding his dick for him instead, and that just about does it for him. Quickly, he starts to slowly stroke up and down, groans fill the silent room. His strong hand grips the sheets of his bed, the delicate fabric became victim to his touch.

The rings in his ear became louder as he swiped his thumb over his tip that was already leaking, everything around König became a blur as he thought of you continuously. He's never been this obsessed with someone until he met you. He gripped onto his dick harder and his body starts to burn with flames too powerful to put out—and his heart beats quicker.

He's closer to his high than ever, throwing his head back due to the aching pleasure that consumed him. His eyes look at the ceiling, all that hunts his mind is you. You hunt him every second of his day, even when it's König hunting for you. His insides began tightening, the way his cock began to throb in his hand and how his precum brushes against his calloused fingers when his hands move to his sensitive area.

He lets out a final grunt as he looks at the mess he made in his lap, wishing you were there to clean it all up. His orgasm hit him harder than ever, and his breath is shaky. Stunned at how good you made him feel, it wasn't him that made himself feel good, no—it was you. All of it.

He tensed at first, letting rope after rope of his come dirty his abs and sheets. "Look at what you fucking do to me, Liebe." He whispered, beads of sweat roll off his forehead.

(…)

The next day passed, the day König booked his session to see you. Of course he wanted to talk to you about what's going on, but he mostly made the appointment to see you. It's been a long long time. He puts on his uniform and mask, getting all ready for his missions and well—seeing you.

——

You hear a knock. A knock so familiar and it wasn't just like any other knocks from your clients. König had a habit of knocking exactly four times, and it's a habit he has with you. You shout, "welcome in!" as you take your notebook and pen out. You put your glasses on and present yourself professionally.

König's huge frame stands before you, and you gasped. It's been so long since you've last seen him, you’re now practically strangers. "König! You're here." You proclaimed, welcoming him with a simple hand motion to the chair. "Hello, Mein Schatz." He greets, his voice husky. He looks at you through his eyes, investigating the way you sit professionally and have everything well kept and neat. It almost bothered him, in a good way.

You broke the tension with a question, “anything new?” He continued taking a good look at you, hungrily. It doesn’t show through his mask, but his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

You cleared your throat, waiting for König’s response. “I don’t like the new addition to the missions.” He said sternly, his fists clench and you could tell that bothered him to the extreme. “Why is that? Do you perhaps think they’re weak and unnecessary?” You queried.

He shifts in his spot, “Ja, I don’t like unnecessary addictions. I find it a nuisance.”

“Is it because you prefer having the men you’re familiar with more.. than the new men looking to work the same missions as you?” He prompts his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to the conversation. He is clearly interested in answering. “Yes. Exactly. We don’t need anymore men, we have quite enough of them.” His German accent is thicker, deeper. Cutting through like knife to butter. Your pen wrote down his answers as well as your thoughts in the notebook.

He watched you like a hawk, looking at you closely while you do your job. “Is there anything else, König?” You wonder, his dull eyes sparkled when he hears you say his name. “Hm,” he voiced, “you.”

Your brows furrow at his answer, you cross your legs and place your pen down. Unsure of what he means, and well of course, the therapist you are, you think maybe he has something he needs to say about you. “Did I do something wrong?” You stammered, unable to look him in his piercing gaze.

He chuckled, and you think maybe you embarrassed yourself with such question. “No, Mein Schatz, I need you.” He put forth. Your stomach drops at his answer, crimson red swipes across your cheek and you feel as though you’re going to pass out.

Never in a million years would you have thought to hear König admitting to the fact that he needs you. It stunned you in all honesty.

“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, Ich werde verrückt.” He points his index finger to his head, “what does that mean?” You question. The part where he spoke in German, you wonder what he means.

He stood up, and you scooted your chair back in response. “It means I’m going crazy, Liebe, you drive me crazy.” König voiced.

You mistook his answer, mistook it thinking that you made him crazy in the worst way possible. “I-I’m sorry, we can gladly stop our sessio-“ he interrupts you, and it’s not the first time.

“Ts ts, I don’t want to. I meant,” he paused, then began, “you drive me crazy with need.” He explained.

You never knew you made him feel that way, and you look around the office just thinking about how unprofessional this all is. “König, when would you like your next session?” You dismissed what he said earlier, you just need to recollect yourself. Your feelings, thoughts and emotions. He just looks at you, quietly.

You walk to the door, and he walks behind you. Each step he took was heavy—and loud, sending shudders throughout your body. He stood behind you, the heat radiating from his body and on to yours.

His right arm reaches out for the doorknob and your heart dropped into a million pieces. God, he knew how to make anyone nervous.

He opens the door for you, and he finds himself out first, but before he does, he says something. “Next week, Friday.” He states, and then walks out of your office.

You take deep breaths, like you’ve been choked and you’ve lost all oxygen. You’ve realized now, just how much König’s little actions made you feel hundreds of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

(…)

König steps foot inside your office. It’s Friday, and what happened the last session felt like it happened yesterday. His mind is all you, it’s all its ever been. Now he will use this opportunity to his dismay. “Hello, König.” You greet professionally, seated on your black chair.

König takes a careful look at you, he misses you immensely although it’s been a week. He noticed your outfit. Your tight black skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, and your white button up accentuating your breasts. He could open your legs wide right then and there and devour you like he hasn’t eaten in days, he’s drooling at the thought.

You turn to speak, and his entire attention shifts to your plump lips. And of course, König’s mind is filled with dirty thoughts. Too lewd to think out loud.

“Is there anything in particular that you would like to discuss today?” Your soft voice made his ears ring, and he couldn’t help the bulge forming in his pants. König wanted to admit that you’ve been on his mind, but he held himself back and contained it. “I’ve just been stressed.” He admits, and it’s true. All the mission stuff had him drained by the second.

“Oh? And why is that?” You questioned, he manspreads on your couch in the office, using the space to sit comfortably. His long legs and big thighs were spread apart, making it a perfect seat for you to sit on, is what he’s thinking. You gulp at the sight in front of you, and he takes his time with his answer.

“I don’t know, honestly. There’s just something new everyday.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

You get up from your seat and prompt yourself next to him. His knees touching yours, and your actions shocked König—just a tad. That’s a lie, it shocked him, a lot.

He wanted to fulfill his fantasies right there, he had you in his sight and reach, but again—containing himself. “Talk to me, König.” You comfort, rubbing small circles on his hand. The action caused him to flinch, but he doesn’t say anything—yet.

After a few seconds, he answers, “I got into a fight with a lieutenant. I’d rather save that for another session.” Groaned König. “Okay, if that makes you comfortable.” You drawl, “how about coming to three sessions in a row? When would you like your next appointment?” You made sure to ask if there was anything else, but to your surprise—there wasn’t.

“Today.” He states sternly, you’re confused. “It’s already today, König?” You trailed off, dissociating at his answer. “I know, Liebe, I want our session to begin today.”

“But we’ve already finished our session for today.” You argued, all that König had contained was finally let out. He grabs his hand and wraps it around your throat, his actions made you let out a loud gasp, and with that—König lifts his mask up and kisses you.

You instinctively kiss him back, aware of how unprofessional this all is, but oddly enough—you didn’t really care.

König groans against your hot mouth, sending vibrations down your entire body. König felt like he was in a dream, finally kissing you didn’t feel real, you tasted too good to be real. He finally has you in his reach, and in his mouth. Your scent overtook his senses, and it drove him right over the edge. He could fall off and die happily, knowing he’s finally tasted you.

You deepen the kiss, and he bit your bottom lip in return, alerting you to open your mouth wider and let him in. He wants to devour you whole and you just let it happen. His tongue finds yours, and there you both are, kissing each other so roughly. His grip on your neck tightens just a little, not too hard, still allowing you to breathe. Though the kiss had you suffocating already.

More, more, more. Is what König says to himself in his mind, but you let go of the kiss. String of saliva leaves his mouth as you let go. Oxygen had left your body entirely, and you’re there gasping for air. You wouldn’t be surprised to see if your lips had been bruised from the rough and deep kiss. You’ve never been kissed like that before, or ever.

The both of you pant, you can’t believe what just happened. You’ve fully realized what he meant earlier, insisting he has another session. This is the session, and you don’t think it’s going to end soon. “Come here.” He ordered, patting his thigh. Your eyes dart to his big thighs, thighs that could crush you if he wanted to.

You did as he said, sitting right down on his right leg, in your point of view—to your left. He holds your waist tightly, balancing you so you don’t fall. Though you’re already holding onto his broad shoulders for support. “Why do you have me like this?” You question, flustered. König loves to see it, to see you flustered even though you never tried to admit it. He had that power.

“Liebe, do you know just how much I crave you? How much I’ve wanted to see you like this…?” he began, “you’re going to do as I say, right?” He asked lowly. You nod, heat rushing throughout your entire body from his needy words. You never knew how much he needed you, and it actually hit you. König, out of all people.

Secretly, you loved that. His desperation made you admire him, it must’ve been so difficult to contain such desires and feelings. Unaware of what he’ll say or do next, you wait. Patiently.

“Ride me, Mein Schatz.” Your mouth gaped open at his words, his fingers dug deep into your skirt, so deep you’re afraid it’ll leave a bruise. “K-König, what?” In disbelief, you stay still. You’ve never done anything of the sort, for fucks sake, you’re a virgin. König doesn’t know that—yet. Though you plan on telling him. And you plan on telling him now.

“I’ve never done this before, I’m a virgin, König.” You murmured lowly, but still loud enough for him to hear. “Oh, meine Prinzessin,” he looks at you like some prized treasure you are. His prized treasure that he wanted to display for the world to see. “Do you want to do this?” He consented, you look at him with eyelids so heavy.

You’re more than sure you want to do this with him, virginity isn’t a game, and you knew that. He knew that too. But you want to give it to König and you’ve already confirmed it before saying anything.

“I…I do.” You cup his face, hidden back underneath his mask. “I can’t go on if you’re not sure, liebe, tell me—do you want to do this?” He repeats his question, and you want to shout at his face the word yes, but you remain calm. “I really do, König. Show me the real you.”

“Want me to show you?” His accent is stronger laced with hunger, pulling you closer to him. He got the affirmation he needed, and you nod in assurance. He grabs your hips at once, and slowly moves them back and forth. Your brows furrow at the feeling of your soaked panties grinding against his rough combat pants. The new feeling had you addicted and König loves to see you fall apart little by little.

His cock ached and pressed harder against his pants as your hands grip onto his broad shoulder, tighter. The friction from his pants and your grinding made you let out a moan you didn’t know you were capable of making. A moan König could only hear in his head, except it became reality, and König was trapped in a haze. He saw the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your lips pout as he helped you ride it out.

“So beautiful.” He huffs, pulling you back and forth even faster. You could feel your stomach twist into knots, alerting you that your orgasm is near, but riding against his thigh wasn’t enough. You needed more. “K-König…please.” You whimpered out, he tilts his head, getting the hint.

“Please what? Mein Schatz?” It felt like he was teasing you, but maybe he just needs to know what you’re saying please for. “Touch me.” You demand, desperately needing his rough and big fingers to touch you. “Ohhh darling, you don’t have to ask me twice.” He does just as you asked, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb on your clothed cunt. He smiled under his mask at how wet you are.

The bundle of nerves formed tightly, forming at the very pit of your stomach. Flames ran through your veins and your body burned with lust. You found it difficult to hold his gaze as your orgasm is nearing. “You’re too good to me, liebe, you’re doing so good.” He praised, his eyes focused on your motions and he could just come at the sight of that. “K-König! I’m going to-“ he interrupts you, grabbing your hips with both of his hands and moves you back and forth impossibly faster.

“Come, schön, be a good fucking girl for me and let it out. I know you can do it.” He grunts, talking you through it. His praising and words of encouragement did just enough for you to reach your high. It felt like fireworks were exploding in your stomach, and your legs shook. It was all too much to bare, and you still rode it out.

“Attagirl, wasn’t so hard now was it, meine Liebe?” He appeals, holding your waist still as you tried to regain every last bit of dignity left with each inhale and exhale. “You think we’re done yet? Oh love, we’re just getting started.”

——

NOTE: This is just part 1 peeps, I honestly thought it was getting a bit too long (imo) so I thought—hey—why not turn this into a mini series? Hehe. Stay tuned for part 2, coming very soon. Also, if you’d like to be in my tag list, it’d be my pleasure. Just let me know in the comments. (Btw, English is definitely not my first language…so if there are any grammatical errors and mistakes, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.)

:)

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Johnny has a good day.

Tw: ableism; implied sexual assault

#

That night you dream about fucking the two neighbors in 5C.

It’s good sex, too. You can tell by the sweat slicking your skin and the ache in your thighs. You are naked on the big one’s lap, his huge hands on your hips while he bounces you on his cock. Behind you, the shorter one loops his one arm around your waist and grinds his cock against your bare arse. 

“Did Jesus send ye?” his voice rasps against the sensitive side of your neck. You tilt your head to give him more room to suck and kiss and bite. Then, as his hand slips down to tease where you need a soft touch the most: “Are you gonna finish me off?” 

The one beneath you cums, a flood of warmth deep within your aching cunt. His groans have you teetering on the edge of your cut of the pleasure. You lean down to kiss him, but before your mouths can meet, hands grip your hips and lift you free—his cock slides out with a wet rush of fluids, leaving you feeling cracked open and empty.  

Your boyfriend passes you on to his friends who are waiting for their turn with you, and then it is no longer a dream, but a memory. 

#

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are for physical therapy. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for cognitive rehabilitation. Both of these are paid for by the British government and accomplished in the ‘comfort’ of Johnny’s own home. Like that’s supposed to help; he’s going to have to sweat (literally) and bleed (probably figuratively), but as long as it’s on his own carpet, that’s quite all right. Johnny isn’t sure which he hates more, the physical or cognitive rehab. Both hurt, just in different places; one hurts the stump of his arm, the muscles of his shoulders and neck, his fake knee. The other hurts his pride, leaves him tired and second guessing his broken mind. 

The other scares him. It’s one thing to lose his arm—one terrible, traumatizing thing. But the idea that he’s going (or gone) simple is too much to take.

The cognitive rehabilitation therapist’s name is Anna. She wears horn-rimmed glasses and sloppy buns that Johnny fantasizes about gripping in his fist and throttling her with during their less productive sessions. 

By sessions, he means they play games together. Simon sits on the sofa in the living room pretending not to watch. He thinks he’s so fucking clever, turning his pages even, but Johnny knows. Simon’s gaze is a tangible thing, as physical as a touch, like a finger running up the back of his neck. There’s no hiding from it. You don’t get a name like Ghost without raising the hairs on some people’s arms with just your eyes. 

“It’s your turn, Johnny.” 

“I fuckin’ know it. Sorry—sorry.” 

Anna puts up a hand to stall his sorries. She is younger than he is; shouldn’t she be older? Wouldn’t that make this less painful? “Take your time.” 

It’s a simple matching game. There are less than a dozen tiles left on the board, and Johnny has seen most of them two or three times by now. He keeps forgetting their placements, even though he is burdened with the memory of having chosen them. 

His shaking fingers reach for a tile…a red car. Sweat breaks out on his brow. He’s seen this fucking Red Car no less than six times. His fingers hover over the board, moving from one tile to the next. Here? Or here? If he sees the Rose again, he’ll lose his head; he knows it. He can feel his blood pressure rising like the mercury in a thermometer, up up and away, blackness eating at the edge of his vision.  

Finally, with absolutely no idea where the other red car is, he picks a tile at random. 

Red Car. 

Johnny shouts out in triumph, holding up the tile for Simon to see. Even Anna—eternally unimpressed Anna—gives him a smile, infected by his joy. 

“Good job—now do it again.” 

Groaning, he picks up another tile. 

Rose. 

#

“Come lay down with me,” he says to Ghost after taking two of the green, oval pills that are the only things which take the edge off his pain. They make him so fucking tired, though—perhaps that’s their secret; if they can’t take the pain away, they’ll at least help him sleep through it. 

“Alright,” says Simon, putting his book down. He doesn’t bother marking his place; they both know he wasn’t reading it.  

The two of them slip into the bedroom. It isn’t much: a bed against the southern wall, the doors leading out onto the balcony—blinds pulled shut to keep out any hopeful rays of sunshine, a desk piled high with medical bills that the government will front. 

Johnny is pretty good about getting his shirt off with just one arm. He reaches up and back, gripping the collar, and tugs it off over his head in a smooth, fluid motion. He’s thinner after his three-month stint first in the hospital and then in inpatient rehabilitation, but he still looks good. 

He hates the stump where his arm used to be, but today he doesn’t even care. It’s a good day, a purely tolerable day. He presses himself against Simon and kisses him, the first true-kiss he can remember giving him since the accident, though his memory is not what it used to be. Simon’s hands—large and warm and strong—settle on his waist pulling him closer. It’s desperate and messy, too much teeth and tongue, neither of them quite settling into the old easy dance they used to be capable of; likely because they aren’t the same people anymore. 

“Fuck, I want you,” Johnny pants against Simon’s feral mouth.

“You can’t,” Simon grits out, dragging Johnny’s hardened cock against his own. 

“Like hell I can’t!” Though…already his knee throbs, a deep ache punctuated by glass-like shards of sharpness when he bends it. He could take it—but it would hurt. But fuck, what doesn’t hurt these days? “I need you, Ghost.” 

Simon grips him by the hair which has grown out too long and badly needs trimmed. He tugs back til Johnny’s neck pops uncomfortably. “You’ll take what I give you,” Simon says, sounding on the verge of madness, at least as desperate as Johnny feels. 

“‘n what? I can’t beg for more?” 

“Oh, you can beg,” says Simon darkly. 

He pins Johnny against the sliding doors of the balcony, rustling the blinds around his body. Knees bent to bring them to just the right height, he fists both their cocks in one large hand, his face buried in Johnny’s neck, muffling groans against his skin.

“Yes,” Johnny gasps, his nails digging into Simon’s back. “Yes, jus’ like that—fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—“

Simon keeps jerking off his spent cock well after Johnny cums, even after he begins whining and pulling back, shoulders thudding against the glass doors behind him. Ghost makes Johnny fuck his fist through the sensitivity until he cums too, both their seed slickening his hand and turning the sound of his handjob filthy-wet. 

“Thank you,” Johnny sighs, blissed out. He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his stump or his knee or his head or anywhere. Maybe it’s the pills, but maybe it’s Ghost. Maybe it’s the relief of knowing they haven’t fucked up their relationship beyond all repair, that they’re still capable of loving one another like this. “I needed that. 

Simon feeds two fingers soaked in cum past Johnny’s full lips, relishing the way his hot mouth sucks the digits clean. He admits: “So did I.” 

He cleans them both up and they curl up on the bed together for Johnny’s afternoon nap—the doctors say all the sleep he needs is good for his brain. 

Simon doesn’t intend to fall asleep. But he does. 

And when he wakes, Johnny is not there beside him. 

#

You’re just thinking how cold it is out on the balcony, wondering if it is worth it to risk going back inside for a sweater, when the balcony doors from 5C open and out steps the man you almost hit with your car. He looks likely to be cold as well, wearing only a t-shirt and loose pants, his feet bare against the concrete. 

A cigarette is tucked in the corner of his mouth, unlit. He gapes at you, and it falls to the balcony floor. Glancing behind himself into the darkness of his apartment, he shuts the door with careful tenderness before bending down with a wince to pick up his cigarette. 

 The sleeve of his missing arm dangles innocuously. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.” 

“Sorry,” you say on instinct. It’s ingrained in you; a lifetime’s worth of apologies. “I can go in and give you some privacy.” 

“World’s big enough for two,” Johnny says coolly. There are chairs out here, but he doesn’t sit. Instead he leans against the doors with his good side and pretends to look out. It’s a lovely view of the parking lot. You do the same, except you can see the spot from here where you almost hit him with your car, and it makes your stomach turn. Speaking of: “Sorry about all that in the parking lot. My temper got the best o’ me.” 

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you admit. ��I was distracted. I can’t say it enough, I’m so—so sorry.” 

“Water under the bridge,” he says. He holds out the only hand he has left. “Johnny MacTavish.” 

You hold out your own left hand, shaking via air from the distance between your balconies. When you give him your name, he mutters it under his breath two, three, four times. 

“I’m going to forget that,” he warns you at length with a sad little laugh, fiddling with the unlit cigarette still in his hand. “It’s not you, it’s me.” 

“It’s alright,” you forgive. “It’s pretty forgettable.” 

Johnny frowns, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and working his hand into his pocket. His accent is so sweet to listen to, syrupy and dropping the consonants off of his words as he assures you: “Didn’t say that, did I, lass? Don’t get twisted.” 

Mollified and embarrassed in equal measure at his simple admonishment, you duck your head. 

“Got a broken brain,” he says in explanation, reaching up to tap the cigarette against the scars at his temple. “Forgot one of my own sisters’ names on the phone last week and she wept like a bairn. In my defense, I have several of them.” 

“I forget people’s names and I don’t have a head injury,” you say. 

Johnny snorts softly, the sound carried away by the wind.

He withdraws a lighter, one of the cheap disposable ones you can buy beside the registers at gas stations. His hand shakes as he tries to spin the sparkwheel once, twice, thrice, but no dice. Johnny takes a deep, slow breath, like a little boy trying not to lose his temper. He tries again, the familiar noise of steel rasping on steel, but no spark. 

You wait, patiently, eyes turned out toward the parking lot as he begins muttering curses beneath his breath. Anxiety itches beneath your skin. His building anger is a tangible thing in the air like heat thrown off by a lit flame or the smell of burnt rubber, tires squealing in the parking lot as you slam on the breaks. A man’s anger is familiar to you. It predicts pain. Your skin flashes hot and then cold, and you are just about to make a polite escape inside when: 

“Can you catch?” he asks, sending your gaze swerving to him from the parking lot.

“Can I—? Fuck!” you throw your hands up just in time, scrambling for the lighter even though he only tosses it underhanded like an easy pitch for a tee-baller. It slips from one of your sweaty hands to the other like a slapstick comedy routine, but it doesn’t clatter to the concrete nor does it fall off the balcony altogether. Holding it in your hand, you light it easily to make sure it works, missing the hungry, bitter expression that comes over his face when you do. “How? I can’t reach you from here.” 

“We can meet in the middle.” 

You can’t. Even with him outstretching from his side of the balcony and you from your own, there is a good half a meter of distance between you both. You can’t help but remember the other man’s words—I just want one fucking cigarette without worrying about him taking a swan dive off the balcony. 

“Be careful,” you admonish when Johnny slips a little, his ribs digging into the iron-wrought railing. He doesn’t have good balance, you realize. Does losing an arm fuck something like that up? The answer you don’t know: it fucks up everything. Taking a deep breath, you glance over the rail and take note of how high you are from the ground. High enough for a healthy splat should you fall…

“Forget it,” he says morosely, his brows low. He is the picture of dejection, a kicked dog. “Doctors say ‘m not supposed to smoke anymore anyway.” 

“Don’t they say that to everyone? Just—hang on.” Tucking the lighter into your pocket, you throw one leg over the railing. 

“What are yeh—you-uuu fucking nutter,” he laughs as you test the stability of the railing. It doesn’t shift or creak at all under your weight. Heart in your throat, you lift your other leg over, feet lodged in the narrow space between the railing and the concrete floor. Gripping the rail with a tight fist, you let your weight lean into the space between your balconies, reaching into your pocket to remove the lighter and flick it to life. 

Johnny looks like he could laugh or cry or both, stretching out his shaking arm so you can light the cigarette and then quickly bringing it to his mouth to suck it to life. 

“Yer crazy,” he says breathlessly, words tinted with smoke as he watches you scramble back over the railing and to safety. 

The sliding doors open. For a moment, you mistake the sound for being closer than it is—for being your boyfriend finally noticing how long you’ve been gone and coming to find you. He’s going to find you out here with Johnny and the same arguments will be born all over again—arguments about your disloyalty.

But it’s Johnny’s doors which slide open. The taller man comes out, the circles under his eyes standing out darkly  against his pale skin in the late afternoon light. At the sight of Johnny, an expression of raw, poignant relief comes over his face. 

Johnny drops the cigarette over the ledge of the balcony, face sheepish. 

“Was just meeting our bonnie neighbor,” says Johnny, slipping his arm around the other man’s waist. If there was any doubt left of what they were to each other, it disappears: seeing them together, you can see the magnetism that draws them together. They act like plants which turn toward the sunlight, except they are the sunlight. The bitterness inside you rises up in the back of your throat. “Grateful to be doing it without a car in between us. This is Simon.” 

“Nice to meet you,” says Simon. 

“You too,” you offer, like perfect strangers. 

You don’t find the lighter still in the pocket of your pants until later, when it is past midnight as you are collecting your clothes from the floor, aching between your legs and raw-eyed from crying. You flick the sparkwheel, watching the flame come alive. Glancing behind you, you make sure your boyfriend is fast asleep before creeping to your dresser drawers, opening the one with your socks, and shoving the lighter towards the back as far as you can. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

CW: incel-like behavior

WIBTA if I brought up a topic from our group chat to my therapist?

Important background: this story does not take place in the US and everyone (except my therapist) is autistic. Names are fake in case anyone from the story uses tumblr for some reason. English is not my first language.

Six years ago, my therapist convinced me to join a therapy group organised by her. The idea behind the group is to help autistic people like myself get better at social interactions, managing our emotions, things like that. It’s been quite fun, and I enjoy the monthly sessions.

My therapist encourages us to talk to each other and meet up in between and/or after sessions, so we have a group chat for that. In that group chat, we essentially talk about whatever we want without the fear of being judged. Last couple of days we had, let’s say, an unfortunate conversation.

One of the members (Peter, 20sM) went on a rant about a girl who rejected him in favor of some ugly guy (we never got to see pictures of said guy) and that he felt “betrayed” and began believing he won’t “find any woman who will love him”. Some of us consoled him, saying that it sucks but he should focus on other things he enjoys to cope/move on. Another member (John, 19M), however, gave him “advice” which sounded a lot like incel talking points – how most women are selfish and superficial, how he’d need to be tougher/more selective to find “one of the good ones”, things like that.

There are 4 girls in the group chat including me, and none of us said anything regarding that (we sort of pretended that didn’t happen). Neither did the 8 other guys. Personally for me, I didn’t feel safe doing so because I’ve had a bad experience with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I decided to just not talk about it and block both Peter and John. I don’t know how the other girls felt about that conversation because they didn’t talk about it with me.

I’m thinking about bringing this topic up the next time I have solo therapy (after this post is up, at least). I’m worried I won’t be well received for two reasons:

1) My therapist has explicitly said she doesn’t care about what we do in the group chat and we should solve problems ourselves.

2) Other members will find out about this and accuse me of leaking information and generally being hostile towards me.

WIBTA if I brought up this conversation to my therapist anyway?

[paradiseprincesss]

forever boy | jonathan crane

umm i lowkey did not want to post this because i feel like it's not eating but i hope u guys like thissssss :')

summary: you and jonathan are close friends — he was your brothers best friend so it was bound to happen, after all. however, all you want is to be more than just friends. one night, after a particularly bad date, you drunkenly call jonathan asking him to come pick you up — and you accidentally confess your feelings while you're at it too.

warnings: unspecified age gap (reader is early 20's, jonathan is early 30's), sort of friends to lovers, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), general sexual content ahead lol, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

"i don't think i've ever seen you stay with a guy for more than six months." jonathan pointed out teasingly as the two of you sat on his couch alone in his apartment, watching some random horror movie you chose to put on.

"very funny, jonathan." you say sarcastically, reaching over to grab the remote so you could pause the movie. "that doesn't make me feel any better, just so you know."

"you said you broke up with him because you don't care about him." jonathan shrugged. "psychologically speaking, have you ever considered that you may have an avoidant—"

"oh please," you scoffed, "do not turn this into one of your therapy sessions. psychoanalyze me all you want, but i guarantee you'll be dissappointed."

"i feel like you have a phobia of commitment." he says, sighing as he looked at you through his glasses.

"no, it's not that. it's just — nobody ever kept my attention." you explain, causing jonathan to raise a brow. "they just don't know how to make me...happy."

"i see," he said softly, "have you ever considered that, i don't know, maybe your going for the wrong type of guys?"

"what do you know about love? you're married to your job." you scoff, causing jonathan to chuckle softly.

"fair point," he nods, "but i do happen to study human psychology and behavioural patterns for a living."

recently, you had been spending a lot of time with your brothers best friend — doctor jonathan crane. he'd known jonathan for a good few years, the two of them got along well as they'd met at a conference for medical students when both of them were still in gotham's medical schooling program.

your brother was ten years older than you, meaning that you were currently still in university but your brother had built up a successful career for himself by now. of course, jonathan was just as, if not, more successful, with his name plastered in every article and paper in gotham about the remarkable work he was doing at arkham asylum.

you'd met jonathan while you were still in high school, but you only started to get close with him during your first year of university. one evening, you'd gotten a little too drunk at a frat party with your friends, and ended up calling your brother to come pick you up in your drunken state.

unfortunately, he had informed you that he was just swamped at work — but he would get his best friend, jonathan, to do him a favour and pick you up since he only lived about ten minutes away from the area you were partying at.

when he picked you up, all you could focus on was how handsome he was — why hadn't you noticed this before? not to mention his intoxicatingly blue eyes; how could someone have eyes that blue?!

after that — the two of you had become quite close. suddenly, you were tagging along if your brother and jonathan had plans, and you were also hanging out with jonathan when your brother wasn't around as well.

something just clicked when you two were together, despite him being nearly a decade older than you. the two of you would frequently make plans to meet up, whether that was to get food together or watch movies snuggled up on the couch of his apartment.

just as friends though, of course — he was your brothers best friend. plus, you were sure that jonathan would never see you in that way.

and since you'd been friends for a minute, he knew just what you liked; what made you smile. he'd even see boys come and go, he knew what made you cry. though he'd never say it aloud — he wanted to be the one to treat you right.

"what time is it?" you asked.

jonathan checked his watch, "quarter to seven." he replied, making you groan as you got up from his couch. "where are you going?"

"home," you sighed, "i have a date tonight — nate's picking me up at nine."

"you just broke up with your boyfriend two weeks ago, and you have a date already?" he asked with surprise, and you rolled your eyes as he got up with you.

"yes, so what? i told you that two month relationship meant nothing to me anyway." you shrugged, and jonathan looked at you with concern as he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen counter. "spare me the judgement please, jonathan."

jonathan always drove you — even though you had your own license and car, he insisted. "i'm not judging you, i just don't want you to get hurt." he said with a sigh, and for a moment, he almost sounded disappointed.

"i wont." you assured him as the two of you drove back to your home. since you were still in university, you lived at home with your parents, and it had become a routine. he'd pick you up, and sometimes you'd even stay overnight at his place — as if friends do that.

"okay, well," he said with a sigh, parking on your driveway, "just promise me you'll call me if you need anything."

"i will. i know you're working an overnight shift so i can just call my brother—"

"just call me, i'll answer." he said softly.

when jonathan told you that, you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart start to beat rapidly. you smile and nod, waving goodbye as he drove off, leaving you at home again. as you rushed upstairs to start getting ready for your date — a feeling of overwhelming dread consumed you.

you were always defensive and deflective anytime anyone asked about your commitment issues. you knew the root cause: it was jonathan. the reason nobody could ever keep your attention was because you were already too focused on someone else �� your brothers best friend.

you went on date after date, dated guy after guy, only to break their hearts months (and sometimes even just weeks) later. you were a professional at delivering the whole "it's not you, it's me" speech. you were sure that at some point, someone would help you get over jonathan.

but nobody ever did.

however, that all changed after your date with some guy named nate from your class had gone poorly. he was very clearly into you, however you on the other hand, were not into him at all. your mind was doing that thing again.

you know, the thing where your thoughts were consumed with jonathan and jonathan only — thoughts of what he was doing right now. how was work going for him? your mind was spinning as you daydreamed what it would be like to be the one he'd come home to every night, after a hard day.

"did you hear what i asked?" nate's voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up at him as you mindlessly swished the clear liquor in your martini glass.

"oh, m'sorry — no." you say in a bored manner, making no attempt to conceal your disinterest.

"whatever," nate sighed, clearly frustrated with your lack of interest for the last hour over drinks, "enjoy your night, i guess."

he places a fifty on the bar top, grabbing his phone and wallet before heading out of the bar you were in. you made no attempt to stop him, and instead, you order another martini for yourself as you let the liquor stir inside of you.

tonight, you felt like you'd hit a dead end. when were you going to learn that this would never work? when would you come to terms with the fact that another guy wouldn't fill the jonathan shaped void in your heart?

reaching into your purse, you grab your phone and put it up to your ear as you heard the dial tone.

"hello?" jonathan's voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"jonathan, hey," you said softly, "i'm sorry for calling, i know you're busy at work right now—"

"do you need me to come pick you up?" he asked, interjecting you and your tipsy apology.

"i-i can call my brother, it's fine. i don't even know why i called—" you said, suddenly feeling very choked up.

jonathan's tone went from casual to concerned in a matter of seconds as he heard you sniffling from the other end of the line. "are you okay? where are you? i'm leaving right now."

maybe it was the gin or maybe it was the harboured feelings you'd been denying for the last year — perhaps both — but all you wanted to do was drunkenly cry and confess the way you felt for him.

screw being just friends, right?

after telling jonathan the address, you let the liquor do the talking. "jonathan?" you asked, to which he hummed over the line, "i just — i have feelings for you."

as you let out your slightly drunken confession, you hang up the phone before he had a chance to respond, throwing back the rest of your martini as you made your way outside. the weather in gotham tonight was miserable, rain pouring down heavily as the night sky was glum.

this was not your best moment — but when jonathan heard your little confession, his cold heart melted a little. even if it took a little liquid courage to get there, then so be it — he'd finally got conformation that you felt the same.

you weren't sure how long you were stood outside in the parking lot of the bar, letting the rain pour down on you dramatically, but you started to shiver. of course you did — you were in heels and a dress, and now, you were soaked from head to toe.

suddenly, you heard your name being called out and you looked to your left to see a familiar car parked, with a familiar man in a suit and glasses rushing over to you. "what are you doing out here? it's pouring." jonathan said with concern, taking his suit jacket off and immediately placing it around you. "come on, i'll take you back to my place — i took the night off of work."

"why?" you ask suddenly, making jonathan raise a brow.

"what do you mean why? just — get in the car, it's pouring." he asked with confusion, but you continued to argue.

"how long are you going to keep pretending were just friends?" you choke back a sob, and he looks at you with concern once more. "friends don't — fuck, friends don't do what we do!"

"how drunk are you?"

"i'm not even that drunk!" you exasperate, "i just wanted an excuse to call you!"

"of course i don't think of you as a friend!" he exclaimed, "but you're out with a new guy every month!"

"because i was scared of telling you how i felt. i only ever wanted you!" you exclaimed back, tears streaming down your face as you were both intoxicated and vulnerable.

as soon as he noticed your tears, he stepped closer to you in the pouring rain, letting it soak you both. his hand suddenly reached up to cup your face gently, "why on earth wouldn't you just tell me?"

"you're my brothers best friend. and were friends, i just figured—"

"what if i don't want to be just friends?" he asked as you blinked your tears away. "haven't you noticed the way i look at you whenever you're around? the way i would drop anything to be there for you, no questions asked?"

everything was happening so fast, from your drunk confession to letting out a year of pent-up emotions — but it didn't matter anymore. you'd fallen for him and now, it was clear that he had fallen for you too.

"then fuck being just friends." you whispered.

within seconds, his lips came crashing down on yours as the gotham rain poured down on the both of you in the parking lot. alcohol was coursing through your veins, but now, so was adrenaline. you weren't sure how it all happened — but in the midst of a big, blurry mess, you ended up in jonthan's bed sharing sloppy, hungry kisses together.

his touch was gentle — loving — and you melted into it. carefully, he slipped your soaking dress off, and you tried not to cower under his gaze. those blue eyes of his had such an effect on you, and he smiled softly as he tried to ease your nerves.

"we don't have to do this — just tell me to stop and we can." he whispered lovingly, gently playing with your hair. "i don't want you to feel pressured since you've been drinking."

"i want to do this jonathan," you insisted, feeling a cocktail of emotions bubbling all at once, "i just really care about you. about us — i don't want to...screw things up between you and me."

"i know," he whispered, "but i promise, nothing will change between us—"

"i've had feelings for you for a long time." you said suddenly. "if we do this, i need to know you're serious."

he hummed softly in acknowledgement and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "ever since last year, when we started to hangout alone. just us..." he trailed off, admiring every detail of your pretty face. "i couldn't stop myself from falling for you."

"god, jonathan. you're such a sappy romantic deep down." you teased lightly, making him smile. "and all this time i thought you were in love with your job."

"well that," he said softly, "but i fell in love with you too."

your breath got caught in your throat as the words fell from his lips. not to mention your heart started to race about a million miles a minute. all this time you'd been harbouring your feelings for jonathan — he'd felt the same.

"i-i fell in love with you too," you confess, rambling on innocently, "s-sorry, i feel like i'm making things so awkward—"

he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands now resting on your hips as his thumbs started to rub soothing circles onto your skin. "relax, sweetheart," he whispered, "just lay back for me. let me show you how much i love you."

slowly, he started to pepper kisses down your stomach and thighs, making you squirm a little under his feather light touch. his hands came to paw at the waistband of your underwear, and if you weren't red in the face before — you definitely were now.

"are you comfortable?" jonathan asked softly, his icy blue eyes piercing through yours as he looked up at you from between your thighs. "is this okay?"

the sight was driving you to the brink of insanity, and with a desperate nod, you look down at him nervously. "y-yeah, just a little nervous." you admitted with honesty.

"have you ever...?" he raised a brow, his breathing slightly ragged.

"y-yeah, no i have before," you say as your heart raced, "i-it's just — it's you."

"what does that mean?"

"you...make me nervous." you say with pink cheeks, nervously giggling as his fingers toyed with the lace of your panties.

"like i said before," his voice dropped several octaves as he slid your underwear down your legs, "let me ease your nerves, darling."

you barely had a chance to react before his hands were gripping at your thighs, and his tongue was licking a fat stripe up your soaked cunt. your head fell back onto the pillows as every pent up anxious thought suddenly left your body, the only thing coming out of your mouth being breathless moans.

as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, he ate you out like his life depended on it — the man was gifted with the knowledge of anatomy, after all. he knew a few things.

his tongue continued to lick all around your dripping folds, lapping up your arousal as you fell apart from his touch. as he took your clit into his mouth, you let out a strangled moan. you could feel him smirk against your cunt when you moaned — which turned you on more if that was even possible.

"j-jonathan," you moaned feverishly, "i-i'm so close—"

"yeah, are you?" he asked with a muffled voice, face still buried in your cunt, "come on, darling, let me taste all of you."

as he worked his skillful tongue in your hole, your back arched and his name started to fall from your lips over and over again like a chant. you swore you started to see stars from the way he was eating you out, devouring your body as if you were something to be cherished. to be worshipped.

as you came on his tongue, jonathan lapped up every last drop of you, sparing no mercy as he continued to lick every part of your pussy even after you'd came.

"s'too much," you whined, "but i need you inside of me, jon."

he finally pulled away from your puffy, needy little hole, wiping his lips and chin with his suit sleeve. he tossed his suit jacket onto the floor in a rush, and you were holding back moans as you watched him undress.

it felt like an eternity (forty-five whole seconds), but he got undressed as he positioned himself between your spread legs. how's that supposed to fit?! you thought to yourself, watching in awe as his thick cock leaked pre cum from the tip.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." he teased, causing you to scoff.

"shut up, i didn't think you'd be...so b-big." you managed to choke out, cheeks burning.

"so, what i'm hearing is that you've thought about us having sex before."

"oh my god, shut — mmph!" as you were about to dish out something back, he pushed his throbbing cock into your cunt without warning, catching you off guard as he split you in two.

"you were saying?" he cooed mockingly, moving his hips gently as you adjusted to his size.

"mm, fuuuck—" you moaned, unable to comprehend his teasing as he fucked you deliciously with his fat cock.

"awe, how cute," he cooed, "you're already cockdrunk. what a needy little thing you are, hm?"

he suddenly took hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he fucked you faster, deeper — harder. you let out a strangled, choked moan as his cock hit all the right places inside of you, rubbing against that spongy spot as he fucked you closer and closer to your release.

jonathan groaned through gritted teeth, trying not to lose his sanity as he felt your warm, wet, hole clench around his cock. "fuck, you're so tight — perfect fucking pussy."

"a-ah, you feel, fuuck — so good, jonathan. right there—!"

"right there, darling?" he asked, emphasizing his words by snapping his hips into you harsher each time, "you like it when i fuck you like this? when i turn you into a desperate little whore, is that it?"

"yes, f-fuck y-yes!" you whine breathlessly, your mind going blank.

"i bet you love getting your pussy stretched like this, don't you?" he cooed with faux sympathy, "you love getting ruined by me."

"m-mhm!" you agree mindlessly, barely able to focus on his words with the way he was brutally pounding your cunt. "l-love you, jon."

"oh fuck— look at you pretty girl. so ruined and so fucking eager to please me." he growled lowly, watching you fall apart underneath him as you took his cock deeper. "god, i love you too — and i love watching you turn into nothing but a little fucktoy for me."

his degrading words didn't match with the saccharine tone that managed to slip through his voice. but you were too fucked out and ruined to put two and two together.

"come on my cock, darling." he commanded softly, feeling your cunt fluttering around his cock. "come for me."

his words pushed you over the edge, and within seconds, you were babbling incoherently again as he fucked you senseless. you couldn't process your thoughts — your brain short circuiting as your release washed over you.

the sight of you getting fucked dumb by him was enough to make jonathan come on the spot, and as you came all over his cock, he was filling your cunt with his warm seed. he let out a low, gravelly moan as he painted your walls white with his cum, and you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to keep him close.

after the both of you caught your breath in the now oddly quiet bedroom in his apartment, he let out a breath as he winced, pulling out of you.

"so does this mean were just friends?" he joked, pulling you into his arms as you scoffed. "kidding — you're forever mine now, darling. don't you ever forget it."

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh

[bruhnze]

Can you write something about Lucy dealing with adhd, or somthing with Ona too

Eres incorregible - Lucy Bronze x Ona Battle

summary: fictional story about Lucy Bronze and having adhd, this is written because multiple people had the request of such a fic.

wordcount: 2554, a little one🥺

warnings: none

Eres incorregible

Lucy Bronze had always thrived on a fast-paced, high-energy lifestyle.

As a professional footballer, her life was a whirlwind of training sessions, matches and constant travel. She had enough new incentives every day to keep her from being bored, her job was perfect for her. Like how she got the opportunity to live in France for two years.

But when the COVID-19 pandemic struck, the world suddenly stopped and so did Lucy’s rhythm. Without the daily demands that usually kept her grounded, Lucy found herself struggling with an unsettling stillness.

In the early days of lockdown, Lucy’s restlessness took over. With no challenging workouts or team meetings to attend, she threw herself into home projects with the same intensity she brought to the pitch. She redid the entire house interior, tackled every little task she had put off while living in Lyon, and when that was done she even repainted the outdoor fence. But once everything in and around the house was in perfect order, Lucy found herself with too much time on her hands and too little to do.

With no more home improvements to make, her energy turned inward. She obsessively watched her football matches, replaying them over and over again. She studied the games, analyzing every move, every strategy, until the matches blurred together.

Desperation for new challenges led her to learn to breakdance, following how tutorials on how to stand on her head and do the worm, skills she even convinced her girlfriend at the time, Keira, to learn with her. The two of them spent hours mastering these ridiculous feats, laughing until their sides hurt, but the laughter wasn’t enough to fill the void.

Lucy tried to keep herself occupied with online campaigns and challenges, including the Nike Living Room Challenge. She worked out in the garden for hours on end, sometimes pushing herself through five-hour sessions just to stave off the boredom.

Despite all this, the days felt endless. Her usual six hours of sleep dwindled to four or five, the quiet nights stretching out. The days getting more and more repettative.

The constant boredom began to take its toll. Little irritations flared up between her and Keira. The tension simmered under the surface, small arguments breaking out over nothing, the kind of friction that only arises when two people are confined together with no escape.

During one of her weekly online meetings with her psychologist, Lucy was asked a question that she hadn’t expected: “Have you ever thought about whether you might have adhd?”.

The suggestion caught Lucy a little off guard. She had always been a bundle of energy, but she had never considered that there might be a reason behind it. The psychologist referred her to a psychiatrist, who conducted a thorough evaluation. After a few sessions, some alone, some with her parents or with Keira, the diagnosis was confirmed.

Initially, the diagnosis didn’t change much for Lucy. She didn’t feel different, but with tips and tricks the specialist offered her to manage her energy and focus, she actually delt a lot better with all of the access energy she had and got less stuck in her head.

Lucy and Keira even attended some therapy sessions together, learning how to navigate their relationship now that they had a better understanding of that side of Lucy.

Without her usual outlet of intense physical exercise, Lucy took up some new hobbies like cooking, baking, painting and even building LEGO sets. These activities helped, providing her with some sense of structure and accomplishment throughout the days.

When life began to return to normal, Lucy noticed how much daily exercise had been essential for clearing her head. With her regular training back in place, she found it easier to focus on other responsibilities, like answering emails and managing her personal life. The physical exertion also improved the quality of her sleep, and for a while, everything seemed to be falling into place.

..

However, years later, the challenges resurfaced when Lucy underwent knee surgery. Now playing for FC Barcelona in Spain, she hadn't really thought back on the quarantine period for a while, until it all started to feel a little familiar again.

Forced to take a break from football, Lucy found herself once again trapped between the walls of her home, an apartment without a garden this time, unable to channel her energy into the sport she loved.

Her girlfriend, noticed the change immediately. She and Ona had ofcourse spoken about the fact that she had adhd, but she had explained that she managed really good because she had sports as an outlet for her energy.

Ona observed Lucy climbing the walls, more restless than ever, biting her nails until they were raw. The living room had become a makeshift football dome, with Lucy watching game after game, analyzing the performances of herself and other great defenders. She even started studying the stories of up-and-coming male footballers, determined to use this downtime to improve her own game, even with her dodgy knees.

But the obsession took its toll. Lucy started skipping entire nights of sleep, her mind too wired to rest. She spent every waking hour thinking about football, neglecting everything else.

When she and Ona had dinner, Ona couldn’t help but notice that while Lucy was still physically present, her mind was elsewhere, consumed by her own thoughts. Ona didn’t mind picking up the slack around the house, doing all the choirs as Lucy was recovering, but she couldn’t ignore the growing distance between them.

One evening, Ona finally voiced her concerns. “Lucy, have you thought about talking to a professional? I’m worried about you.”

Lucy was taken aback by the suggestion, but Ona’s sincerity struck a chord. Realizing the strain her behavior was putting on their relationship, Lucy scheduled an appointment with her psychologist, who advised her to talk to the psychiatrist again. During their session, the psychiatrist suggested trying medication to help manage her adhd, explaining her behavoir was coming from the fact she wasn’t physically challenged anymore.

Lucy was hesitant. She didn’t want to take anything that might be considered a performance-enhancing drug, like Ritalin or Adderall, which could be seen as a form of doping. After discussing her options, Lucy was prescribed Atomoxetine, a non-stimulant medication.

At first, the change was remarkable.

Lucy began helping with household chores again, her day-night schedule normalized and she was more engaged in conversations with Ona. She even started going out with friends again and attending training sessions to watch and connect with the team again. It seemed like things were finally looking up.

But as the weeks went by, Ona noticed some troubling things. Like that Lucy had stopped eating breakfast, brushing it off by saying she just didn’t feel hungry in the mornings anymore. Ona felt like her once vibrant spark seemed to dim and while she no longer bit her nails, Ona missed the little sign that Lucy was feeling stressed or excited, even though she always told Lucy to stop it. Lucy had become a shadow of her former self - calm and composed, but emotionally distant.

Their physical relationship also suffered. It had been a while since they had been intimate and while Ona didn’t want to push Lucy, she couldn’t ignore the growing gap between them.

Even when Lucy had been recovering from her knee surgery, she had found ways to make their relationship work. But now, Lucy seemed uninterested, as if the medication had dulled not just her restlessness but her passion as well.

One night, as they lay in bed, Ona decided to confront the issue.

“Are you happy?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucy, already half-asleep, blinked in confusion. “Hm? I don’t know, yes… why?”

“You just seem a little distant,” Ona replied, turning on the bedside lamp to see Lucy’s face.

Lucy sighed, pulling Ona closer as if to shield herself from the truth.

“I don’t really feel like myself,” she admitted after a long pause. “But everything is going so much better now. I’m functioning better. Isn’t that what matters?”.

Ona sat up, her expression full of concern. “For who, Lucy? For me? Because I’d rather have you back - the real you - even if it means things aren’t perfect all the time.”

Lucy’s heart ached at Ona’s words. “I’ve been a bad girlfriend,” she said softly. “But I’m trying to do better. I can do the chores now, I’m not obsessing over football as much… I’m trying.”

“But you’re not you, Lucy,” Ona said gently. “Your emotions are dulled. I miss the happy Lucy who danced while making breakfast, the silly Lucy who made me laugh every day and kissed me. I’d rather have that Lucy back, even if it means you’re a little more chaotic.”

A tear rolled down Lucy’s cheek. “Have I not been kissing you?” she asked, her voice tinged with sorrow. “I love you, Ona. I don’t want to lose you.”

Ona leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Lucy’s cheek. “You’re not losing me, I know you love me. And I love you too—every part of you, even the messy bits. Maybe it’s time to talk to the specialist again, see if there’s another way. I don’t care if you’re a little crazy sometimes. I just want you to be happy.”

Lucy nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. “I’ll talk to her again. Maybe a lower dose, or… something’’.

“We’ll figure it out together, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone,” Ona reassured her, holding Lucy close, ‘’if it were up to me we ask her if you can stop taking the meds’’.

In the following weeks, Lucy worked closely with her psychiatrist to adjust her medication. She got a schedule she followed to gradually reduce the dose so that she will have the most chance to not get any symptoms from quitting.

She started dancing in the kitchen again, even if her knee wasn’t fully recovered. She found joy in the little things, cooking breakfast with or for Ona, walking their dogs Coco and Narla, and yes, even obsessing over football. But now, there was a healthy balance. She still had her intense focus, but it was tempered by the love and support of the people around her. Mostly Ona. And now, even though she’d stopped taking the medication, she seemed to be in a better headspace then before, she talked a lot with Ona, giving her a insight into all the things she found difficult, so that they could tackle them together.

Ona was really sweet and caring, she knew it was hard for Lucy to not be able to practice the thing she loved the most in the hole world and tried to be as much of a supporting factor to her girlfriend as possible.

..

One night Ona came back home, Lucy had been at the hospital today, a final check for her knee, if it was cleared Lucy could start training with the team again on Monday. She hoped Lucy had gotten good news, she had texted her about how it had been, but she hadn’t gotten a reply even though the appointment had been in the morning. A little hesitant she opened the door, afraid Lucy might’ve had bad news.

She was met with the sight of a house way cleaner than she knew she had left it. She heared soft music playing in the kitchen.

‘’Luce?’’ she kicked her shoes off and dropped her bags.

Ona stepped in to the appartment and a lovely smell of dinner that was being prepared entered her nose. She walked to the kitchen and saw Lucy stirring up some vegetables.

She smiled as she observed her for a few minutes, a happy Lucy was the best Lucy, she always loved the English defender, but on moments like these she felt her heart beating a little faster. The casually swaying her hips, the humming with the music and the fact that Lucy had been so sweet to clean the house and prepare dinner, it was perfect.

Ona walked to Lucy and wrapped herself around the taller woman from behind, her unanounced touch made Lucy jump slightly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Hey, baby, you’re home,” Lucy said, her voice tender.

‘’Mhm’’ Ona hummed against the muscular shoulders, ‘’you are my home’’.

Lucy put the fire a little lower and took Ona’s hands to give her a little space to turn around, ‘’hello’’ Lucy smiled, with a loving gaze she leaned in, her lips meeting Ona’s in a gentle, affectionate kiss.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes, soft and lingering, a silent promise of comfort and togetherness. The tender pressure of their lips was complemented by the gentle brush of Lucy’s fingers against Ona’s cheek, a subtle yet profound gesture of the love and care they shared. For a moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace and the sweetness of their kiss, which reassured them both that things were good between them.

Lucy felt a renewed sense of determination. No matter what challenges laid ahead, she knew she would face them with Ona by her side. After all, she was Lucia Tough Bronze, unstoppable both on and off the field.

With a playful glint in her eyes, Lucy pulled back slightly, looking at Ona with a mischievous smile. “Did you know I’ve won everything in life?” she asked.

Ona, catching the sparkle in Lucy’s gaze, tilted her head with a knowing smile. She had seen this look before, the blend of Lucy’s playful charm and genuine affection. “Oh? what makes you say that?” she chuckled, ready for another of Lucy’s cheesy lines.

Lucy’s smile widened as she took Ona’s hands in hers, holding them gently. “Because I have you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity and emotion. “Honestly, I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. With you by my side, everything just feels perfect.”

Ona’s smile deepened, touched by Lucy’s words. “I love you too Lucy.”

Lucy’s expression softened as she gently cupped Ona’s face in her hands and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “No, I mean it. You’re perfect,” she said quietly. “I love that you’ve been so patient with me, that you see and care about the real me.”

Ona leaned in and kissed the taller woman gently. “Ofcourse, speaking of caring about you, I assume things went well with the doctor?”.

Lucy’s expression clouded for a moment. “I texted you, right? Everything went well,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m back to training with the team again.”

Ona raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Actually, no, you didn’t text me. But I’m glad to hear it was good news,” she said, giving Lucy another affectionate kiss. “I almost started missing your silly distractions.”

“Hey!” Lucy protested playfully. “They’re not silly, they make people laugh.” She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. “I swear I sent you a message.”

After a few moments, she chuckled. “Oh, I sent it to my mom instead. Oops.”

Ona shook her head with an amused smile and gently took Lucy's arms, pulling her into an embrace. She nestled her head against Lucy’s shoulder, savoring the closeness. ‘’ets incorregible’’ she chuckled.

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: mention of an emotional affair

Word Count: 3143 words

a/n: the chapter I have been waiting for. :') it is time. I look forward to your reactions and feedback! It'll definitely help me work on my writing for these types of scenes in the future! :D Enjoyyy! <3

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Chapter 7

When you thought about it, you had a lot of feelings going on at the moment. Your emotional state felt like a merry-go-round that was never-ending. There were times when you didn’t know what to think when it came to your situation with the boys. This was one of those times.

All your life you had learnt that the bond between mates was sacred and predestined. You were taught that it was something that couldn’t be explained with logic, it was a connection so heavenly and divine, you were tied to one another for forever and more. To a point, you believed that there was indeed a revered and sanctified essence to the bond you and your mates created. But was it really unbreakable? 

When you sought therapy from Chan’s friend Ryunjin, she didn’t give you a complete doom and gloom outlook on things. She reassured that there could be a possibility of reconciliation but, not everything was necessarily foreordained. 

“Is it even worth it to continue? I feel like it’s all been a lie.” you dispassionately asked.

“In a perfect world, there would be no mistakes. So then, it might be fair to walk away in that case. But realistically, we are all prone to committing errors, and if we were to always leave and continue searching for perfection, we’ll always be searching and never satisfied.”

“I don’t know if I could trust them.”

“That’s fair, you don’t need to immediately off the bat, you should first talk to them and take it from there. I‘ll be honest, you know deep down the right answer, it’s up to you to decide what is best for you.”

Yes, fate allowed you to meet the boys.

Yes, fate brought you all together as each other’s mates.

Yes, fate played a significant role in your relationship when you thought about it.

But fate also played a harsh game with you, as some would say. You were thrust into an emotional upheaval and everything you ever knew and were told about love and relationships was far from the truth. So yes, you believed a relationship was sacred and you believed people were meant to come into your life and cross paths for a reason. But it did not mean they would necessarily always be a part of the journey.

Ultimately, you still loved the boys. And deep down, the thought of just walking away felt unacceptable given that there was still a lot that you wished to communicate, discuss and get off your chest. Once you had gotten past the anger that simmered inside of you like a boiling pot, you felt more reassured that you could have a civil discussion with a firm and determined but also calm resolve.

It surprised you just how much anger there was contained in you. As you continued your sessions and Ryunjin continued asking questions and poked you for answers, it all erupted like a volcano. 

And it felt really good to let it all out.

However, you didn't expect things to happen so soon. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren't really sure when the right time would present itself, so you decided to leave it up to fate. If anything, your belief had been further strengthened given the last few months. Life may have been harsh, but it resolidified the courage and strength that you didn’t realize you had in you.

Minho had informed you that your bond to the boys would remain passive as if it was in a deep slumber until you chose to communicate with them. With no communication in the past six months, they could not sense where you were but rather feel your lingering presence somewhere. 

At the window, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho all stood with glassy eyes as they peered inside. Only Hongjoong wore an unreadable expression.

Your mind wandered to your past. 

Kim Hongjoong was the reserved but charming boy in your primary school who you befriended as it was just the two of you who sat at a table alone, everyone else in their own little groups. He looked at you occasionally and you thought he was weird. It wasn’t until during lunch when you heard some of your classmates snickering about you behind your back, he passed you a cookie, sat next to rather than opposite you, and told you he liked your hair which was in a pretty French braid. He then attempted to engage in a conversation about which games you liked to play and things you liked to do. Though a bit apprehensive, you became comfortable with him after a while and from then on, the two of you were two peas in a pod.

As you got older, it wasn’t necessarily a romantic bond. Being the two introverts that you were, both of you spent time fairly often together and hardly with anyone else. You were best friends and wherever one of you was, the other was sure to be there or nearby. When both of you attended high school, Hongjoong was the center of attention for most girls. They would gift him lavish presents on his birthday and any holidays that came by, hoping that he would return their feelings. He didn’t but you found it amusing how well liked he was. 

“They don’t know how annoying you really are.” You joked.

He would respond by playfully pulling your ear and ruffling your hair. Hongjoong never told you this, but as much as he liked to mess with you, he also liked to take care of you. When you would question if your hair looked good, he would gently fix it and tell you how beautiful you looked. He would wait for you outside your classroom when your classes were separate and treat you to delicious snacks and treats from time to time. He couldn’t explain it at the time, you were special to him although you weren’t bonded, and it irked him when someone would try to woo you off your feet.

Like the time you received a rose from a classmate for your birthday, Hongjoong was not amused. He latched onto you and followed you everywhere you went, and then brood at the person trying to sweet talk you.

Then on your 16th birthday, you both bonded and realized you were each other’s better half. It all made sense now in your minds and Hongjoong adored you more than anything.

The next two years were just the two of you, filled with fondness, devotion and tenderness.

Snapping back to the present, you were frozen in your spot. There they were, and excluding Mingi, it had been six months since you last saw them. They all still looked the same as far as you could tell in contrast to yourself, who now sported blonde highlights and layered hair complimented with a small nose ring on the right side of your nose. 

You invited them in, joined two tables with their assistance and brought out eight cups of peppermint and chamomile tea. You sat at the head of the table with four boys each on either side. No one attempted to break the lingering silence.

Until Seonghwa did.

"Your hair looks very pretty." He complimented in a sweet soft voice.

"T-thank you." You slightly bowed, touching your hair. It caught you off guard, they seemed to be so calm and that puzzled you.

"Mingi told us about you being here,"  Yunho stated, "We felt your bond after a long time."

"Mhm," You nodded in response, "When I got cornered, I initiated it to alert Mingi."

"Who were they?" San asked.

"Humans turned into rogues actually. My friend Changbin did some research, just like what we heard back home, some of the rogues managed to escape here and turned anyone who offered their loyalty and liked to wreck havoc."

You heard slight snarls emitting from some of the boys. Given everything that happened with the rogues, each of them was ready to tear any of them apart if given the chance.

"We're so glad you're okay. When Mingi told us what you've been doing, we felt comforted to know you were somewhere safe." Jongho declared.

Hongjoong scoffed. 

There it was. If there was anyone out of eight of them who wouldn't hesitate to hide his annoyance and anger, it would be Hongjoong. 

"Are we done with the small talk and pretending like we aren't mad?" He announced.

"Hongjoong." Seonghwa warned.

"No, I will not keep quiet," he seethed, turning to you with pure, fiery anger in his eyes, "Tell me Y/N, was it fun? Frolicking around and pretending like you didn't have any mates waiting for you."

"Hongjoong!" Wooyoung yelled.

But Hongjoong ignored everyone and continued, "We were worried sick, we were broken, we needed you and here you are living your life without any regret."

"It's not like that Hongjoong." You started.

"That's enough Hongjoong!” Mingi exclaimed.

"No, it's not enough, don't you remember the pain you were feeling Mingi? The aching feeling and sleepless nights. We were all miserable, and not just us, the young ones at the daycare were pining for her too but she didn't even care."

"You don't know..."

"Don't know what? Tell me what I don't know Y/N. Because it seems my mother was right about you."

That one statement paused everything. For a moment, you reeled yourself at Hongjoong's words. Kim Hongjoong was the first one you met, the first one you bonded to and the first one you kissed and shared most intimate moments with in the beginning before meeting the others. It was just you and him before meeting Mingi and now, he sat across from you saying the one thing you hoped you would never hear him say.

"Maybe my mom was right."

Mrs Kim hated you and you never knew why. But those sessions with Ryunjin revealed something.

“She hates you because you have what she couldn’t.”

It didn't take long for you to see red. The anger you once thought you had come to terms with erupted again and in your subconscious you slowly put the pieces together. Hongjoong's mother was the reason for the majority of your insecurities and while the boys did carry their own faults in neglecting you, she was the cause that made you spiral further. She was the one pushing Lila and she was the one who would make comments about the boys not liking a whining Luna, and the "fact" that a Luna is supposed to not be a nuisance to her mates. All because, in her eyes and mind, she saw you as an embodiment of what she could never have again.

And just like that, you snapped.

"You're a real piece of work Kim Hongjoong," you snarled viciously. 

Hongjoong's eyes snapped in surprise along with everyone else’s by your tone. No Luna as far as it was known would use that kind of tone with her mate. And the fact that you did was extremely shocking to them.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me," you bit back ferociously, "You have the guts to sit there and accuse me so shamelessly as if you are a saint who never messes up or makes a mistake." 

Hongjoong didn't respond, he glared at you trying to assert dominance but failed.

"You're talking about the pain you felt, okay fine, I won't dispute your feelings. But what about how I felt? What about my sleepless nights and my aching heart. Does none of that matter? You’re completely disregarding my feelings? I was falling apart Hongjoong! I was crushed and at my wits end and you know more than anything how hard I tried to get your mother's approval, only for you to sit there and tell me she was right? Was she really? Because I sacrificed a lot more than you did Kim Hongjoong and you know that. What do you not know Hongjoong? You know everything and you know exactly what you did." You barked.

"Wait..." Yeosang interrupted, "Y/N what do you mean?"

You narrowed your gaze at Hongjoong who looked everywhere but at you, poking his cheek with his tongue. Tears streamed down your face uncontrollably and you felt your resolve breaking apart slowly but you held your ground.

"Do you remember what you told me Hongjoong? I should dress up more like Lila. Kind of funny how you were so into how she dressed and what she wore. I knew you two had a similar interest in fashion, so I tried to write it off, but then the way you hugged her, the way you were so into what she was doing, your "harmless" messages…you knew exactly what you were doing."

"What are you trying to say—"

"YOU WERE HAVING AN EMOTIONAL AFFAIR!” You shrieked. “You were emotionally cheating on me Hongjoong and you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew my insecurities but you didn't care, you expected me to keep quiet and still be there for you because "I'm your mate" and I was supposed to listen to you and obey. You were using me Hongjoong exactly like what your mother did to your father."

The breaking of this revelation sent everyone in a spiral. They hadn't realized till all the pieces clicked together. That's why Hongjoong had Lila around so much, that's why he would keep suggesting they all should stay out late and do things. He was trying to cover his tracks because not only was he emotionally cheating on you but also on them. But it would have only been clear when you found out.

Hongjoong's mother did the same thing to his father after Hongjoong was born. It was during the sealing of the realms and his father, being clan leader, was away majority of time as a witness to the sealing. Mrs Kim found solace in another clan member until Mr Kim found out and denounced his bond with her. They continued to live together for the sake of their children as having separated parents was frowned upon and subjected the child to unfair treatment, but Hongjoong’s father built up a lot of resentment for years to come and never considered rekindling the connection. He wanted nothing to do with her romantically. 

As such, Mrs Kim didn't like the way you were living such an idyllic life — you had a blissful relationship that she would never have again. 

And she rathered Lila because she was the daughter of the clan member, the one who was exiled from the pack, her former love affair, and who joined another pack on the other side of town. No, she wasn’t Mrs Kim's child, Mrs Kim just simply preferred her over you. 

Your voice broke the boys out from their dazes.

"I loved you Kim Hongjoong and I still do. Gosh, I still care so much about you even though I shouldn’t and I still want to make it work because I know, I know you aren't a horrible person, at least I thought you weren’t. But now I'm wondering if I really know you at all."

And that's all it took for Hongjoong's facade to break. He thought you wouldn’t find out. He knew what he was doing was wrong but his infatuation got the best of him. Truly, it started off as any ordinary friendship. Lila was kind and nice and that was that. But there were times when she would subtly flirt with him. At first, he paid no heed and rejected her affections. But after a while, when work and meetings became a bit overbearing and his mother would annoy him with the same old tell-tale of you not being good enough for him despite his reprimands that you meant everything to him, he allowed some reciprocation now and again but without any physical attachment. He thought that wouldn’t define it as him cheating…

But it did and he knew it. So he would rope in the other boys to go to lunches or dinners. They were friendly with Lila too so it wouldn’t come off as too odd, in contrast to if it was just the two of them. Hongjoong was aware that the boys did not really care for Lila like they did for you, and it would take a bit of coaxing to get them to join. Heck, even he didn’t care for her like that but it was such a spur of the moment, he couldn’t help it. He had a feeling some of the boys were questioning him before you disappeared but after your disappearance, they had all hit a wall and it was never revealed.

“I hate you.” You seethed.

Those three words broke Hongjoong from his daze. You, his best friend, first love, his first in many things, hated him and it was all his fault. He wronged you and continued to do so because he was trying to run away from the fact that his actions were damning and inexcusable. In his mind, still communicating with Lila would mean he hadn’t really done anything wrong. It was a twisted and poor attempt of trying to absolve himself from taking accountability. He could feel Mingi and Seonghwa’s fiery gazes and he was too terrified to look up to see the others.

You got up and stormed out of the café. The others just stared blankly in shock and despair from what they just heard. Hongjoong didn’t deny it and it felt like a ton of bricks hitting them all at once.

As you rushed out, Chan, Jisung, Minho and Jeongin passed by. They came to check on you but when you brushed past without acknowledging them and Chan saw your mates through the window, he immediately asked Minho to go after you. Jisung turned all around to figure out what just happened, but when he saw your mates on the other side of the window, he was not pleased. Chan felt Jisung's shift in aura. It was much darker than Jisung’s usually fun and joyful temperament and character. While Jisung may not be very good at fighting, he was very good at magic and spells, and at using strategy and wit over bod. And when someone hurts a person close to him, well, it doesn't usually end very well. 

“Since when does Jisung float?” Jeongin asked.

Jisung began levitating with a menacing glare piercing through the window. Good things the streets were clear for the night.

“Oh dear,” Chan muttered, “This isn’t good.”

Jisung left the two behind, stormed into the café and scowled at the eight men. 

"So,” he retorted with one hand in the air and a dark and purple cloud engulfing the room, “Which one of you is Hongjoong now, hm?"

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[2hoothoots]

(photographer voice) "okay, now let's do one where canon events play out slightly differently and everyone ends up in a significantly worse place because of it"

here's an au of an au because i have issues watched the genghis khan music video one too many times. lore dump + crops/bonus art below

Due to an unfortunate combination of chance factors, Razputin Aquato arrives at Whispering Rock one day late.

He finds the camp a ghost town. The campers are stumbling around, brainless; the counsellors, nowhere to be found. Ford doesn��t know what to make of this kid showing up out of nowhere – but he’s got promise, and with Sasha and Milla out of action, he’s their best hope. He gives Raz a crash course in what he needs to know, and sends him out across the lake.

Raz pulls through, against all odds. But he never gets the starstruck meeting with his heroes Sasha and Milla that he’d been hoping for; never gets to bond with Lili, or any of the other campers. It’s a harrowing and lonely experience for him, but one that ties a burning knot of resolve in his chest. If he works hard, he can be a Psychonaut just like he dreamed. He can save people.

When the alert comes through from Headquarters that Grand Head Zanotto has been captured, Sasha and Milla scramble the jet with Lili on board. They don’t bring Raz along – Ford’s account of his accomplishments is impressive, but without seeing him in action themselves, neither agent is convinced to bring him along on the mission. Sasha invites him to next year’s session of the camp – after all, he clearly has promise, and the Psychonauts are always interested in nurturing young minds.

Raz returns to camp next year with something to prove. He throws himself into his studies with a single-minded dedication, sparing little time to interact with any of the other campers. This time, he’ll show them. He’ll show them all.

Sasha, Milla and Lili are unable to locate Truman in the Rhombus of Ruin. It ultimately takes a week to locate the Grand Head, following an anonymous tip-off (later found to have been planted by Nick). It takes six months for the ruse to be uncovered. Ultimately, Nick is unsuccessful in finding any clues to Maligula’s whereabouts. Lucrecia will pass a few years later, surrounded by a family that has no idea who she really is. Ford never remembers the truth, and when Razputin is fourteen, he takes the secret to his grave.

Truman’s brain spends almost seven months in a box, under poor conditions with insufficient oxygen. When it’s finally returned to his body, he’s not the same man he used to be. He quietly steps down as Grand Head of the organisation, and spends years of his retirement in intensive therapy.

Lili is heartbroken. Her faith in the Psychonauts is shattered. She never returns to Whispering Rock again. Over the years, she becomes more and more withdrawn; isolated from her peers, estranged from her mother, and struggling with her relationship with a father who on bad days can’t even remember her name. The bitterness grows day by day, blooming within her chest.

She’s sixteen the first time she's forced to turn her powers against another person. Even in his current state, her father has enemies – old foes the Psychonauts can’t (or won’t) protect him from. There’s a raid on her house, late at night. It’s only by chance that she’s still awake. She breaks two of the assailants’ bodies, and when she twists her hand, the plants in her father's greenhouse writhe under her command and rip the third one to pieces. It’s the last time that house ever feels like a home to her. She cuts ties with the Psychonauts entirely, and never looks back; the next time they hear of her, it's under a completely different name.

Dogen Boole never returns to Whispering Rock either. He’s thoroughly traumatized by the events at camp, and his parents refuse to send him back the following year. With nobody to help him learn to control or harness his powers, his episodes steadily become worse as he gets older. Although reluctant, his family is eventually forced to reach out to the Psychonauts to help. Compton is still a nervous recluse, and nobody else in the organisation is quite sure how to handle Dogen’s powers. He spends his teenage years in and out of psychoisolation, and is subjected to more and more intense experimentation in the name of “treatment”. Nothing works. In the end, all he has to show for it are the scars.

His helmet is the only thing he can rely on to stop him mulching the cranium of anyone in a fifty-foot radius. There’s no place for him in “normal” society. Just like Lili, he’s driven to become a villain by a combination of circumstances, trauma, and a bitter feeling of hurt and betrayal towards the Psychonauts.

Raz enters the intern program at thirteen, and quickly graduates to the rank of Junior Agent. The Psychonauts he finds waiting for him is undergoing a marked transition from the organization it used to be. Upon Ford’s passing, the only member of the old guard still around is Otto. Hollis is a Grand Head forced to prioritize efficiency in order to keep the Psychonauts afloat after numerous losses and funding cuts.

Raz enters a passionate, determined boy, remarkably talented but who struggles to connect with his peers. When he gets his promotion at eighteen, he’s the most decorated junior agent the organization has ever seen. At twenty-six, he’s in the prime of his career, honed by years of training into an efficient, meticulous, ruthless Psychonaut.

He’s the perfect agent. As far as he’s concerned, that’s all he needs to be.

under-the-cut bonus, here's some tighter crops on the art, and also a couple extra bits and pieces:

dogen's helmet seals up like a pillbug most of the time, to stop his powers from leaking out when he gets stressed. i couldn't find a way to work it into the art while still making clear that Hey It's Ya Boy, but i think it's a neat visual. the extra pic of lili was gonna be a mugshot - at first i was planning to composit her art into, like, a dossier/file, but i couldn't make it work in the end

[aziraphales-library]

Hi team! I was wondering if you might have some recommendations for Aziraphale-centric fics? Not really looking for whump, or fics where his feelings for Crowley are his sole focus (though I'd still enjoy it if were a significant part of the story), but moreso fics that look at Aziraphale holistically. First fic that comes to mind as an example is "Angel-Centered Therapy Through A Multicultural Lens: An Integrative Approach" by Nnm. Thanks!

Hello! Here are some Aziraphale-centric fics for you...

Could you breathe with me? by Euny_Sloane (T)

Aziraphale goes to counseling/therapy with an unnamed therapist and spends some time exploring his feelings related to love, loss, and family. Note that this is an imagined counseling session, and so may bring up uncomfortable feelings, regardless of how many tags I place, especially if you have the unfortunately common experience of feeling unloved by your family, or unworthy of love. Nothing graphic happens except a reference to Pompeii, though.

In a Perfect World, I would Hold your Hand and Kiss your Cheek by boredom (T)

A chance encounter with a young man leads Aziraphale on the path of healing and discovery. Maybe now he can finally admit to what he wants, without guilt and without fear. Maybe now he and Crowley can finally move forward, together.

Human Labels, and Angelic Discovery by Hemlock_Holmes (G)

Aziraphale discovers autism, and goes on a one-angel mission to learn everything he can about it. This is a purely self-indulgent fic about discovering yourself after many years, because I am so tired of reading books (not fanfic!) where the word autism is skirted around and treated like taboo, even when everyone knows that's what the author means. Just say it people! Also because nothing gives me greater joy than watching Aziraphale stim.

something wretched about this by IvyOnTheHolodeck (T)

You might wonder why Aziraphale can't seem to enjoy his retirement in peace. You could ascribe his distress to the series of terrifying thoughts that haunt his days, or the only book he wishes he'd never read, or even the wound that still hurts after six thousand years. Really, though, you should blame the fact he's never learned to talk about his feelings.

The Other Arrangement: or, How the Angel Got so Hungry by burnttongueontea (T)

‘It’s just… funny. Don’t you think it would be funny, if it turned out we’d had it the wrong way round all these years? If I ate all the time, and you hardly ever?’ Crowley discovers that Aziraphale has been strictly and obsessively limiting his food intake for millennia, due to fear of punishment from Heaven if he gets caught eating too regularly. The angel’s confident facade comes apart at the seams after they move to the South Downs, as he struggles to cope with new-found freedom while still keeping his past a secret. With the future of their relationship soon hanging in the balance, Crowley must find a way to convince Aziraphale that he is a safe pair of hands to collapse into – and that they can rebuild things from the ground up.

My Favorite Ghost by cassieoh_draws, DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process. When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one. A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

And the one you mentioned...

Angel-Centered Therapy Through A Multicultural Lens: An Integrative Approach by Nnm (G)

“I’d love to meet with you,” Davey said, apologetically, when he had been called up by a fellow looking to initiate therapy, “but I’m all booked up for months.” “Are you sure?” The fellow said, through a poor connection that crackled. Davey had been sure. And yet. Right there in his calendar was a blank spot, just a few days away, which he had somehow completely overlooked before. “How about that…I’ve got Wednesday at eleven, if you can make that work.” “What a miracle,” the fellow said, “that would be just the perfect time.”

- Mod D

[callmedaleelah]

i’m gonna love you like it’s the last night

[ suguru geto psychological fiction au series ] - i

author’s note ; angst, mental health issues, heartbreak trope, long written chapter, no mention of (y/n), english is not my first language

[ master-list ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sit in the hospital’s waiting area, legs crossed, fingers nervously tapping the armrest of the chair. The room smells like antiseptic, its harsh, sterile scent settling uncomfortably in your nose. The gentle murmur of people coming and going barely registers; your mind is occupied by the weight of your thoughts.

It’s been six months since you were discharged from the psychiatric hospital, and today’s therapy session was just a routine check-in. But your thoughts have been restless, especially after a particularly sleepless night. The weight of the past still lingers. You’ve made progress, sure, but some wounds take more time to heal than others.

You’re staring blankly at the receptionist's desk when you hear a familiar sound—a low, deep voice that pulls you out of your head. Your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head slightly, just enough to see him from the corner of your eye.

Suguru.

He’s walking down the hallway, flanked by a few others who seem engrossed in conversation with him. Dressed in a tailored suit, he looks striking, his presence commanding the space. His long hair is slicked back, and even from a distance, you can tell that time has been kind to him. Too kind.

The sight of him, so composed, so put together, is like a punch to your chest. Your throat tightens, your hands clamp together as they grow cold, and you force yourself to stare down at your lap. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding in your ears so loudly that it drowns out everything else.

After two years—two long, agonizing years—you never expected to see him again, let alone here, in a place that has become so intricately tied to your pain and healing. You want to disappear. You want him to walk past without seeing you, without knowing how far you’ve fallen since the last time you spoke.

But then, as if defying your silent prayer, you hear the unmistakable sound of his footsteps approaching. The air feels thick, heavy, almost suffocating, as his shoes come into view in front of you.

You freeze.

There’s no escape.

"I didn’t expect to meet you here," Suguru’s voice, calm and steady, cuts through the thick tension. It’s too familiar, yet it feels distant—like a memory you’ve tried so hard to bury. His presence is overwhelming, and before you can process what’s happening, he sits beside you.

Your body tenses, every muscle tightening in a futile attempt to hold yourself together. The room feels too small, the air too thin. You glance at him, briefly, and then back down at your hands, struggling to find something—anything—to say. Your throat feels dry, your palms sweating.

“Probably because you didn’t expect to see me at all,” you finally manage, trying to inject a bit of humor into your words, but your voice is shaky. You’re not sure if the joke lands, but you see the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.

The sight of that smile does something to you—it sends a ripple of old, buried emotions surging to the surface, emotions you’ve spent months trying to suppress. He still has that effect on you. And that terrifies you.

Suguru’s eyes, dark and intense, flicker with a hint of something—surprise, maybe? But he quickly masks it, just like he always does. His calm demeanor never falters. He was always so composed, always in control, and now, sitting next to you, he’s no different. He looks so calm, so unaffected, while you feel like you’re barely keeping it together.

"How are you doing?" he asks gently, his voice soft but probing.

You hesitate. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you think about lying, about brushing off the question with a simple, empty answer. But something in his gaze makes you pause, forces you to confront the truth that’s been gnawing at you for so long.

“You mean how I’m doing recently or how I’m doing after you, you know—” you glance at him, giving him a small, awkward smile. “—left me.”

The words hang between you like a fragile thread, and for a second, you see his composed mask crack. Just a little. His eyes widen, barely noticeable, but it’s there. He wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

He regains his composure quickly, nodding slightly, his calm exterior firmly back in place.

"If you mean how I’m doing recently, I’m fine," you continue, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, I found a new hobby.”

Suguru’s brow arches, a faint look of curiosity crossing his face. "Oh? What is it?"

You let out a dry laugh, more for your own comfort than anything else. “Running. It clears my mind, you know? I only think about managing my breath."

You watch as Suguru chuckles softly at your words, the sound sending a pang through your chest. It’s almost too much—this casual conversation, this normalcy, when everything between you feels so broken.

Then, his voice lowers, and with a slight tilt of his head, he asks the question you were dreading.

"And how were you doing after, you know—i left you?"

For a moment, everything stops. The world narrows down to just you and him, sitting side by side in that cold, sterile hospital waiting room. You blink, trying to process his words, but it feels like they’ve stabbed you in the chest.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to answer. “I don’t really remember much about it,” you say, your voice quieter now. “But long story short, I survived.”

There’s a pause. A long, excruciating pause, where neither of you speaks. Your heart is racing, and your palms are sweating again, but you keep your gaze fixed on your hands, avoiding his eyes at all costs. You can feel the weight of his stare on you, the intensity of it burning into your skin.

Suguru shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers twitching as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. His presence is overwhelming, and every second that passes feels like an eternity.

"And how are you doing, Suguru?" you ask, your voice strained. Saying his name again feels wrong. It feels foreign on your tongue, like something you shouldn’t be saying anymore.

"I’m good," he answers quickly, too quickly. "Been busy with work.”

You nod, but his words hit you harder than you expect. "Good." He’s been good. Meanwhile, you’ve been drowning, barely keeping your head above water, and he’s been fine.

You nod, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the tightness in your chest tells a different story. The words “I’m good” echo in your mind like a cruel reminder of the contrast between his life and yours. You bounce your leg nervously, wishing your name would be called, wishing this awkwardness would end. Every second with him feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, and you’re one wrong word away from falling apart.

“Then I better not hold you up from work,” you mumble, your voice barely audible. You glance down at the floor, avoiding his eyes again, but you can still feel his gaze on you. It’s heavy, lingering, like he’s searching for something in your expression that you can’t afford to give.

Suguru hesitates, as if he’s contemplating whether to stay or leave. His fingers drum lightly on the armrest, a nervous habit you recognize from the past. But finally, he speaks again, his voice low, almost cautious.

“Why are you here?”

You freeze at the question. The truth is something you’ve been avoiding, even with yourself, but there’s no way to dodge it now. You take a deep breath, your fingers gripping the hem of your shirt as you try to summon the courage to speak.

“Therapy,” you say softly, still not looking at him. The word feels raw on your tongue, exposing a vulnerability you’ve tried so hard to hide. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—broken, fragile, not the person you once were.

“Oh,” is all he manages, and the silence that follows is suffocating.

You can feel the shift in him, the weight of his realization settling between you. His calm facade falters for just a second, but it’s enough for you to catch the flash of pain in his eyes. His jaw tightens, and he looks down, as if trying to make sense of it all.

You clear your throat, trying to break the tension, but the lump in your throat remains. “How’s work?” you ask, your voice shaky. Anything to steer the conversation away from your mental health. You’re not ready for that. Not with him.

Suguru’s expression softens, though his eyes are still clouded with concern. “Busy,” he repeats, though it feels more like a reflex than an actual answer. “Our company’s expanding, working with medical institutions. That’s why I’m here.”

“Sounds important,” you say, your voice strained as you force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

He nods, but you can see the discomfort in his posture. He shifts in his seat again, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to. The Suguru you knew was always in control, always calm and collected, but now there’s a tension between you that neither of you can ignore.

“How was university?” he asks, as if searching for a safe topic, a neutral ground where things won’t feel so heavy. “I’m sorry i didn’t come to your graduation last year like i… promised,”

You wince at the question, and for a moment, you don’t answer. It’s not something you want to talk about, not here, not now. But you know you can’t avoid it forever. You force yourself to meet his gaze, and when you do, you see the faintest flicker of worry in his eyes.

“No, it’s okay—I haven’t graduated,” you admit quietly, and his eyes widen in surprise. “I dropped out last year.”

The shock on his face is palpable, and for the first time since he sat down, you see his calm facade crack completely. “What?”

You swallow hard, the words coming out thick, like they’re stuck in your throat. “Last year… was harder than I expected. My cognitive function got… messed up. That’s what the doctors said, after my aunt brought me to the psychiatric hospital.”

Suguru blinks, his expression unreadable as the reality of your situation sinks in. His eyes are glistening now, but he blinks quickly, forcing back the tears that threaten to spill. You’ve never seen him cry—not once in all the years you knew him. But the sight of him fighting his emotions now nearly breaks you.

You force yourself to keep going, though your chest feels tight, like there’s a weight pressing down on you. “I couldn’t… think. I couldn’t focus on anything.” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat as tears well up in your eyes. “I thought… losing you was hard enough. But then I tried to live without you and… it was worse.”

Your voice cracks at the last word, and you quickly wipe away a tear that escapes down your cheek. The silence between you feels unbearable now, the weight of your words settling into the space like a heavy fog.

“I didn’t know there was life after you, Suguru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed. But other nights… I wanted to sleep forever. It was like I couldn’t control anything—my mind, my body. It was all too much.”

You finally meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes breaks something inside you. His calm exterior is gone now, replaced by raw emotion, his eyes wide with guilt and pain. His lips part as if he wants to speak, but no words come out. He’s stunned, frozen, unable to process what you’ve just told him.

Your breath is shaky as you try to pull yourself together, your hands trembling as you wipe away another tear. “I swear… I tried to let you go,” you continue, your voice barely holding together. “I thought if I just stopped thinking about you, I’d be okay. But it wasn’t that simple. It was like… there was no life without you in it.”

Suguru inhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists as he struggles to contain the surge of emotions coursing through him. His chest rises and falls with each shaky breath, his calm, collected facade shattered completely. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, his lips pressed into a tight line as if he’s physically restraining himself from breaking down.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I never… I didn’t realize how much I hurt you.”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. The intensity of the moment is too much, the raw emotion too overwhelming. Your chest feels like it’s been ripped open, exposing every vulnerable part of you that you’ve tried to protect for so long.

You hear Suguru exhale shakily, the sound of his breath unsteady as he tries to compose himself. But when you glance at him again, you see the tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I… didn’t know,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

The apology hangs in the air between you, heavy with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid. And for the first time in a long time, you see Suguru not as the calm, composed man he’s always been, but as someone who’s just as lost as you are.

[dirtyvulture]

I Will Never Have You

??? x Beefy!Fem!Reader

“I Will Always Love You” - Alternate Ending 

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: After the traumatic events of IWALY, you find solace with someone else.

Word count: 4386

AN: I wrote this ages ago, but didn’t have the courage to post it until now. Enjoy? 😬

“So, I heard Kate has a girlfriend now,” Natasha says, coming up behind Yelena who beats furiously at a punching bag.

“Oh, yeah, she does. I didn’t know you wanted any updates about her,” Yelena responds.

“Is it you?”

Yelena stops mid-punch, causing the bag to swing back and crash into her body. She’s nearly knocked off her feet but grabs onto it to steady herself. “What?” She looks at her sister almost offensively. “No.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if you were,” Natasha deflects. 

“It’s not me, Nat.” Yelena slams her fist into the punching bag with so much force Natasha swears she hears her knuckles crack.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha backs off. 

“You’ll see for yourself,” Yelena says. “Kate is bringing her to Stark’s party next week.”

“That’s where I first heard about her,” Natasha replies. “Is it true she’s from California?”

“Something like that.” Yelena doesn’t seem entirely comfortable admitting to more details, meaning that she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Well, good for Kate.” Natasha is genuinely happy to hear that Kate has finally found someone for herself. Natasha knew Clint’s protegee had always been intensely interested in you when she was with you, but hopefully now that you two were broken and you had moved away, Kate’s been able to stop pining, just as Natasha’s had to do.

After the poorest choice of judgment she’s ever experienced in her life, which resulted in Natasha assaulting you and damaging your relationship beyond repair, she has never been the same. She knows she doesn’t deserve better and her actions still haunt her despite the dozens of therapy sessions she’s been to. Fury had you reassigned to a different division at SHIELD and after you moved away, you never made contact with her again. Natasha knew it was best for the two of you to keep your space, but part of her wishes she could see you again, talk to you again, even though she knows she would never be able to have you in the way she had before.

“Well, I guess it’ll be nice to meet her then,” Natasha says.

“Yes, for you and me both,” Yelena agrees.  

***********************************************************************

After a long week, Natasha reunites with Yelena to attend Stark’s party. She had been surprised her invite hadn’t been canceled, especially since she hadn’t seen any of her co-workers in almost six months since Fury removed her from the team. While she had long since adjusted to her new position, nothing could compare to the chemistry and energy of her old team. Sometimes she misses it so much she considers asking him to move her back, but she knows she wouldn’t be accepted back.

They don’t want to work with a rapist. 

Although she hadn’t been convicted for her crime and it was never publicly announced what she did, it seemed that everyone knew that was the reason you and her broke up. She would still stumble across cruel notes slipped into her locker, some threatening to out her and some threatening violent physical harm and occasionally death. There was no point in reporting any of them, since they all spoke the truth. So instead, she kept them all. 

The thrumming environment makes her just as uncomfortable as the familiar faces do. No one dares to talk to Natasha longer than a mandatory “long time, no see,” most of them turning instantly to her sister and engaging in conversation with her instead. Natasha feels the loneliness in her chest deepen. It could not be more apparent that no one wants her here, but as much as she wants to leave, being here is punishment enough for her.

Natasha follows Yelena around like a shadow, literally lurking behind her where she thinks no one will notice. They’re picking at a plate of crab rangoons when suddenly Yelena jabs her elbow into Natasha’s side. Natasha almost chokes on her food when Yelena says, “Kate’s here.”

“Where?”

Yelena points to the bar. Kate is standing there in a flowy purple dress that reminds Natasha of what teenagers wore to prom. Towering next to her is a familiar broad-shouldered figure, wearing a polo shirt in the same shade of purple. When both of them turn towards her and Yelena, Natasha almost faints.

It’s you.

How did you become Kate’s new girlfriend? Why did you say yes to her? A million thoughts swirl in Natasha’s head. You had told her a hundred times that you had no interest in Kate and even viewed her as a younger sister. Then how could this have happened? Did Kate slip something into your drink or hit you on the head? Maybe the trauma Natasha had caused you inadvertently gave you memory loss, and now you couldn’t remember that you didn’t even like–

“Sestra, are you okay?” Yelena interrupts as Natasha turns on her angrily.

“You knew,” she snaps. “You knew Kate was dating Y/N.”

“I was the first person she told,” Yelena admits. “And you know how Kate always felt about Y/N…”

“But it wasn’t returned!” Natasha hisses, although you standing next to Kate with your arm around her waist says otherwise. “How could you let this happen?”

“Let this happen?” Yelena’s eyes blaze with fury. “You’re the one who fucked up the relationship! Not me, not anyone else. And you know Kate would never hurt Y/N the way you did.”

Natasha swallows her anger because she knows Yelena is right. Because despite her faults, Kate would never do what she did to you.

Kate leans against you, her hand squeezing your bicep so hard Natasha is sure her nail marks are going to be imprinted into your skin all night. Marking her territory, Natasha scoffs, although how many times did she do the same to you before? She treated you like a piece of meat, like a possession she had ownership of, never like the human being you actually were. 

But Kate has never looked happier as she pulls you around in tow, although you look just as uninterested in being here as Natasha feels. However, when you make eye contact with Natasha, you freeze and Kate jerks back because she isn’t strong enough to move you on her own. 

Kate looks around frantically until she notices that you’re staring at Natasha, then she tugs you down to her level so she can whisper something in your ear. You shake your head, then nod and Kate kisses your cheek. Natasha wants to dissolve on the spot. Kate readjusts her grip on your arm and leads you over to Natasha and Yelena.

“Hi, Yelena! Hi, Nat,” Kate says first, waving to both of them in turn. “It’s good to see you both again, especially you, Nat. I know it’s been…a while.”

“Yes, hello, Kate.” Natasha notices Yelena move closer to her side, as if her sister is afraid she’ll try strangling Kate. 

“And you both already know Y/N, I think…”

You grin as though it pains you, your teeth clenched as though you’re purposely preventing yourself from saying something. 

“Anyway, we’ll be around if you want to catch up!” Kate says, and Natasha doesn’t miss the way she implies that if she wants to talk to you, she’ll have to talk to Kate too. Kate steers you off in another direction before Natasha can get a chance to say good-bye. Seeing Kate with you now makes Natasha wonder if this is how she felt every time she saw you with Natasha attached to your arm. It’s a sucky feeling. 

Thinking about Kate being with you drives Natasha crazy. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to spend every moment with you. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to call you hers now. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to take you to bed. Natasha remembers when that had been her; she had never been happier in her life. No wonder Kate looked so happy with you. There was just something about you that brightened something in everyone. 

And maybe Kate hadn’t had to do anything for you to turn to her. Maybe her carefree, simple nature was what you needed in your life after such a traumatic event. Natasha feels ashamed for thinking that Kate had to pull mind tricks to get you to fall for her. You deserved happiness, and if you found that with Kate, Natasha wouldn’t judge you or her for that.

Because one thing was clear now: there was no chance in the world Natasha was ever going to have you back.

***********************************************************************

“You okay, babe?” Kate says, resting her head on your shoulder. “We can get you a stronger drink if you–” She stops herself, her cheeks reddening as you stare down at the non-alcoholic margarita in your hands. You had given up alcohol since the assault and were surprised that Kate still didn’t remember this, especially after being with you for almost two months now.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” Kate rushes to apologize. “I’ll just get us some water.” Her hand brushes your arm as she turns away, waving down a waiter and turning back to push an icy glass of water in front of you.

“Thanks.” You take a sip, your hand shaking as you bring the glass to your mouth.

“Maybe we should go back to our room upstairs,” Kate suggests. 

“I’m fine,” you insist. Kate keeps rubbing your forearm, which you assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but she’s holding on too hard, almost like she’s afraid that if she lets go of you you’ll walk right back into Natasha’s arms. But that’s an unlikely possibility, even more unlikely than you getting with Kate in the first place.

You’re still not totally sure how it happened, but within the first few months of you being stationed out in California, Kate had texted you. It had started out completely innocent, with her simply checking in to see how you were adjusting, and you were grateful to have someone to talk to. It escalated one week when you admitted to having a really hard time with life and without being prompted, Kate flew over from New York to be with you. She stayed with you longer than she should have, but when she finally went back, you felt you couldn’t be without her. So, you soon moved back to New York and the rest was history. 

But it wasn’t perfect, as no relationship is, and sometimes you’re unsure if you made the right decision to come back to New York exclusively to be with Kate. She was a very nice girl, and since it was no secret how smitten she had been with you the entire time you were Natasha, you’re not surprised at how fast she warmed up to you. You, on the other hand, were facing some very complicated emotions and trauma, and it was difficult to tell if you had genuine feelings for Kate or were just using her as a crutch.

“Did seeing Nat upset you?” Kate asks, taking you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” You hadn’t even said a single word to Natasha. Yelena had warned you both that she would be in attendance tonight, so you had prepared an entire speech of how to confront her, but when you finally saw her again, you choked up. 

“It’s okay if it did,” Kate says, putting her arm around your shoulder now and pressing herself closer to you. “She really should be in jail for what she did to you–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you snap, feeling immediately guilty when you see Kate’s hurt expression. “I…just…maybe later,” you add lamely. 

Your therapist told you that opening up to a new relationship after what happened with Natasha would be difficult. Luckily, Kate had the advantage of knowing you before the assault, and what happened, so you didn’t have to fully relive the trauma and explain to her why you had trust issues or why you were now so guarded in bed. 

You hadn’t expected to do it so soon, and while Kate would’ve eaten you alive the first chance she got, to her credit, she waited until you were ready. The first time you two had sex, you were certain that Kate was going to pass out when she saw you lying shirtless on her bed, and then she asked you to take her in every position you could ever think of until neither of you could move the next day. But as much passion as there was, the whispered “I love yous” and kisses and cuddles felt meaningless and empty. You didn’t know what it would take to get to that level of emotion, and you wonder at all if you’ll find it with Kate.

“Do you want to go back upstairs?” Kate asks again. “Maybe we can do something to clear your mind a little…”

While Kate’s appetite was worse than a burgeoning teenager, she respected your boundaries and never pushed you into doing something you didn’t want to. You found that your libido was significantly lower than it had been before the assault, but once in a while it spiked, which Kate couldn’t be happier for.

And tonight was one of those moments. Seeing Natasha again was not only traumatic but frustrating, and you needed something to get your mind off her.

You grab Kate’s hand suddenly. “Let’s go,” you say, pulling her out of her seat and scooping her up in your strong arms. She squeaks as her feet leave the floor, wrapping her arms around your neck to steady herself. You ignore the burning eyes on your back as you walk out carrying Kate. 

***********************************************************************

You’re utterly impatient waiting for the elevator to take the two of you up to the suites. Every second that passes and you don’t have Kate underneath you makes your skin hot with need. By the time you finally make it to Kate’s room, you throw her onto the bed and take off your shirt and pants. Kate watches you in awe for a moment, like she’s still in disbelief that she gets to have you like this, before struggling with the zipper of her dress behind her neck. 

Once you’re undressed, you climb onto the bed with her and flip her over by her hips, ripping the zipper down so roughly you’re sure you’ve ruined the fabric, but neither of you seem to care. Kate quickly sheds the gown and pushes it off onto the floor, turning back over and looping her arms around your neck to pull you down into a heated kiss. 

When your teeth knock together, you wonder if you’re being too rough with Kate, but she doesn’t let you pull away. Instead, she wraps her legs around your waist, her ankles locking over your lower back. One of your hands finds her breasts in an effort to steady yourself over her, and she moans when your hand closes around the swell of her flesh. 

“Is this okay?” you finally break away from her lips to ask.

“Yes, yes,” Kate gasps. Her hands trace over your back muscles, before finally digging into your shoulder blades to encourage you to arch into her. She tucks her head against your chest and you feel her lips scraping against your collarbone, bruising your skin and marking her claim on you.

“Oh God, Kate,” you say, your center pulsing with need. You feel her hands come around your sides, brushing across your tensed abs.

“I want to ride you,” Kate demands, but quickly changes her tone of voice when she sees you glaring down at her. “I mean, can I…Can I ride you, baby?” 

It’s not a power play thing, you just don’t like Kate being forceful with her requests because it makes you feel like you don’t have a choice. Although you could say “no” at any point and Kate would stop, part of you is still subconsciously fearful that if you do, Kate won’t respect you and take advantage of you like Natasha did. You stopped drinking alcohol to make sure you were always in control of all your faculties, and your time with Kate so far had proved that she was a mindful and respectful partner, but the fear was still there. You wondered if it would ever truly go away or if you would be stuck battling it every single time you were in bed with someone. 

“Hop on, baby,” you tell Kate, switching positions with her and relaxing with your back flat on the bed. Kate throws one leg over your waist, placing her hands on your chest and slowly lowering herself onto your chiseled stomach. Her core is hot and wet and it excites you to see how desperate she is for you. 

“You feel so good,” Kate pants, slowly rocking back and forth. You take hold of her hips to guide her, flexing your abs until you feel like you can’t even take a breath. Kate moans as she bumps across the defined muscles of your stomach. 

“Look at me, Kate,” you grunt as her nails curve into the skin of your chest. You want to see the light in her eyes when she comes undone, hear the moans she releases because she’s used your perfect body to get off. 

Kate loses some of her rhythm as she forces herself to lift her head. Her blue eyes, swirling with lust and desire, lock onto yours, and you buck your hips suddenly, trying to angle your body to stimulate her into an orgasm. Kate grinds down on you, like she’s trying to stay seated on a bucking bull, but the movement is too much for her and she gushes across your stomach. You keep your firm grip on her waist so she doesn’t fall off, lowering your hips back onto the bed as she falls on top of you, panting hard. 

You stroke the back of her head until she calms down, and then Kate sits up with a mischievous look in her eye.

“Can I clean you up?” she asks.

You smirk at her. “Sure, baby. Make sure you get every drop.”

Almost as if your words alone were enough to reinvigorate her, Kate crawls down your body and you spread your legs apart to let her lie between them. She puts a hand on each of your muscular thighs to balance herself and lower her head to lap at the stickiness coating your abs. You moan as her tongue slides across your muscles, collecting up every bit of the mess she made. Your skin shines not with her cum anymore but her saliva and the heat in your stomach rages hotter as you watch her, her head dipping lower and lower until suddenly her mouth finds the heat between your legs and your back arches with a moan.

“Fuck, Kate,” you gasp, moving your hands to the blankets instead so you don’t accidentally pull her hair out. Her tongue pushes into you with some hesitance at first, but as soon as she tastes you, she dives in deeper for more. Her head bobs up and down as she sets a pace that’s a little too quick for your liking and you try to roll your hips to indicate a better rhythm, but Kate is too drunk on your taste, too excited to be in this position, to pay you much attention. And as hot as her mouth is, as flexible as her tongue is, it’s not enough to get you off. 

Kate may not be as experienced as your past partners, but sometimes you feel like she doesn’t even want or care to know what you actually like and what you don’t. While she’s never done anything to make you feel outright uncomfortable, you aren’t always satisfied with her efforts either–although she does try her best, that much is certain. 

Your excitement begins to dwindle as the minutes tick by and you’re no closer to orgasm than when Kate was still on top of you. You’re surprised she hasn’t gotten a jaw cramp yet, and you don’t want her to, so you move your hand onto her head and push her back. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you say, pretending to pant like you’re coming down from an amazing high. Kate sits back on her heels, wiping her lips with a grin. You know you’re just as guilty for not being honest with her, but for some reason, you just don’t have it in you to tell her the truth. This poor girl had waited years to be with you and probably thought she never had a chance in the world. You could give her this moment. There might not be more of them, anyway.

Kate crawls up to you to kiss you sloppily and you shy away, reaching over to the nightstand and twisting your elbow awkwardly to open the top drawer. Your fingers close around the rubber toy you’re looking for and you pull it out with a flourish, watching the way Kate’s eyes darken when she sees what you’re holding. 

“Think you can handle one more?” you ask.

“Anything for you, baby.” She kisses you again and gets off of you so you can sit up and pull the straps over your legs, positioning the toy between them. 

“Lie down,” you tell Kate, maneuvering yourself on top of her again. You can see the glistening wetness of her center and you know you won’t need any more lube, despite how large the toy is. Even in the beginning, you insisted on using a smaller size but Kate didn’t want that, saying that you looked the best with a big one between your legs. You didn’t argue with her on that and fucked her into the mattress until you were so exhausted you fell asleep with the strap still in her. 

You grab onto each of Kate’s ankles and hoist her legs up, holding them in a wide V and tilting her butt up just a few inches off the bed. Scooting forward until the tip of your cock presses against her entrance, you look down at her and ask if she’s ready. 

“Fuck me until I can’t walk,” Kate says, and she knows you’ll keep your side of the deal. 

You thrust your hips forward, gliding into her almost entirely in one smooth motion, and Kate throws her head back and moans shamelessly. You use your grip on her ankles to pull her forward as your hips move, increasing the power of your thrusts and the entire bed shakes with your strength. Kate bounces along the mattress, trying to reach for you, desperate for something solid to hold onto while you fuck her brains out. 

***********************************************************************

“I think I saw them head out earlier,” Natasha says, trying to act like she hadn’t had her eyes on you the whole time.

“So soon?” Yelena says. “Well, I think the only reason they showed up was to see you anyway–”

“I barely spoke to either of them.”

Yelena shrugs. “Did you expect them to hang around? After what you did?”

Sometimes, Natasha wonders whose side her sister is on. Then she remembers how Yelena had been ready to (justifiably) beat her to a pulp after she found out what Natasha had done. 

“Do you want to go now?” Yelena asks, although she senses that Natasha wanted to leave hours ago.

“Yeah, I think I’m done here.”

“Okay.”

Natasha plans on spending the night in her sister’s room, since it’s too far of a drive back to her place in Rochester. She goes up the elevator with Yelena, feeling a wave of sadness fill her as she remembered the thousands of times she had gone up to the suites with you, with her teammates. Those days were long gone. 

“Do you remember where my room is?” Yelena asks. “I have to grab something from the kitchen, so you can meet me there.”

“Sure.” But Natasha does not have the faintest memory of where Yelena’s suite is. She only remembers where yours and hers was. She wonders who’s moved in now and if they know the history of that room. It would probably be better if they didn’t. 

She wanders down the dark hallway, nervous to realize that all the doors look the same. In a moment of panicked judgment, she reaches for a random door handle and pushes it open. 

Just her luck, Natasha doesn’t stumble into Yelena’s empty room. It’s Kate’s.

Kate is lying naked on her bed with you equally naked and between her legs, holding them open at such a wide angle that even Natasha is impressed by her flexibility. Your abs flex as you jog your hips forward, slapping your thighs against Kate’s loudly. Natasha has a fleeting thought of being in Kate’s position before, but it is quickly replaced by shame and embarrassment.

“Uh, shit…” Natasha says, blush creeping up to the tips of her ears. She doesn’t know if either of you even notice her and quickly backs out, her heart pounding. She would never have you like that again, and it hurts her like a knife in her chest to know that she lost you to Kate.

Kate had seen Natasha peek into her room and never thought she would be so happy to be caught in a position like this. When Natasha leaves, Kate begs you to pound into her harder and faster, until you fear you’ll actually rip her in half. You don’t, but you do break the bedframe when it slams into the wall one too many times. Tony will not be happy to hear he has to order another bed for Kate. 

Kate practically screams when she comes undone, tearing at the sheets and pillows with clawed hands. You finally drop her legs, pulling your cock out and falling on top of her, your body slick with sweat as you lay flat against her. Kate rolls you to the side as you wrap your arms around her and she tangles her legs with yours, resting her head on your chest and telling you to hold her tighter. 

No other words are said, but the silence seems to communicate that both of you know this is a dream reaching its end.

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

AN: Oh how the tables have turned...

This was a very different fic for me. I’d love to hear what you think! Especially from those who were anti-Nat endgame with the original. 👀

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[lizzyk137]

Baby's Secret- An Agent Gibbs Fic (Gibbs X Reader)

Description: After keeping your relationship a secret, what will it take for Gibbs to admit your his. Warnings: Mentions of bombings, swearing, hospital, fluff

(Part One) Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Dinner at Gibbs place was great, and it certainly wasn't food you both were devouring.

The next few months kept you busy with new cases, therapy sessions and at-home date with Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't one to leave his house much when he was home from work. He was stubborn, stating he goes out enough at work that he doesn't need to on his days off, and he stays with that statement no matter how much you try to change his mind.

Now you didn't mind staying home with Gibbs. It was relaxing and brought a calm over you that you needed after a stressful job, plus, some of the activities were very entertaining. But you wanted more.

As time went on, and your relationship stayed a secret from the team, due to Gibbs breaking one of his own rules, you were starting to get irritated that it didn't seem like he wanted people to know about you. On cases he always stayed a far enough distance away from you so no one could assume and reserved to checking on you when you were out of work when you got hurt. He also never expressed how he felt about you. He was a man of few words and you could feel that he cared about you when you were alone but you also know that things could be very much different as they were presented to you. And as good as he made you feel, he also equally was hurting you.

"Where are you going?" He asked six months into your relationship. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and it was gorgeous out, so you thought of going out and enjoying it.

"I'm going to the farmers market with Tim." You had answered back as you grabbed your purse and a reusable bag.

"McGee?" You could hear him getting up from his chair.

You turned around to meet his eyes, "Yes McGee, we always go to the farmers market on our days off."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We've been doing it for the last year." You laughed.

"Oh." You walked up to him and gave him a peck on the lips, hoping his scowl would wipe away from his face, but it stayed.

"I'll be back in a few hours. See you!"

You didn't realize that day would leave to you two having to expose the very secret Gibbs had hidden for months.

"Y/N, look at this!" McGee was holding up a poster for an old video game.

"Wow, twenty dollars? I don't know if it's a steal or a rip-off." You laughed as he handed you the framed poster and reached into his wallet for cash. He paid the merchant and grabbed the poster back.

"Defiently a steal for me, the starting price online for this is $100. So where to next, Y/N?"

"There is a cute little stall selling plushies that I was eyeing, if that's okay?" He nodded, and let you lead.

You headed over to the stall when you felt a pair of eyes on you in the crowd. You scanned the area but didn't seem to find anyone out of the ordinary. You reached your stall, and you and Tim were checking out the plushies when you felt the same feeling as before on you.

"Tim, I think someone is watching us." You whispered as you held up a small plush bat.

"Really?"

You showed him the plush bat, "Yeah, while we were walking over here and now. No one seems out of the ordinary. I might just be paranoid. What do you think for Abbie?"

He nodded, and you held the bat in your arms. "I'll keep an eye out." You nodded back to him and grabbed a cute orange kitten plush.

"I think I want this!" You smiled up at him, trying to make the air a bit lighter.

His lips morphed into a smile, "Well then, I guess we better get it. It's on me since you bought me coffee."

"Aw, Tim! That's sweet of you, thanks!" You showed the merchant your items and they tallied them up and you both paid. "Alright, I think it's lunch time!"

Tim stood next to you, looking around. "I feel it too. Lets head to another stall, I don't like this feeling of being watched.

"Sure." You took a step forward when you felt and heard a sudden blast behind you. Warm air hit you, shoving your body forwards as you flew through the air, body tumbling as soon as it touched back down to the ground. Wood flew everywhere around you, as you tried to get up to look at the damage, when you felt another blast from another stall besides you as the world grew black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs was frightened. He hadn't been this frightened in a long time. Two of his teammates were lying unconscious in the hospital from some lunatic setting of a bomb and your condition wasn't the greatest as he watched your heart monitor bounce around irregularly.

"Hey, boss." Tony's voice interrupted his thoughts. "McGee just woke up. The doctor is checking him over and once he's done, we can talk to him."

The doctor came out an hour later and let the team know they could go in to see their friend.

"Take your time but what happened, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Everything was normal until we got to our last stall. Y/N said she felt like someone was watching us but she didn't see anyone, and neither did I. I felt it as we were leaving but it was too late." McGee looked worried as he explained what happened to Gibbs. "I didn't see anyone but if I had just suggested we leave right off then she wouldn't here."

"Hey, nothing could have stopped those bombs from going off." Tony said gently, seeing McGee getting worked up as his heart monitor started beeping louder.

"Bombs? There was more than one? I only remember one of them."

Ziva nodded, "There was two. One at the stall you went too and one that was behind it."

They eventually left McGee after calming him down, and headed back into the waiting room.

"Tony, see what Abby has on the bomb. Ziva, figure out what stalls McGee and Y/L/N visit every week this past year."

"Past year? McGee didn't say anything about the past-"

"Just do it, Ziva!" Gibbs barked out.

"On it."

Gibbs circled around back to your room and watched you lying there. "We'll get them for you. I won't stop until I catch those bastards. Wait for me just a little longer."

Gibbs didn't visit the hospital for the next few days as he stayed up going over every little detail they had and trying to discover new leads. You still had yet to wake up, which fueled him even more to find whoever did this to you.

"Gibbs, I found something." Abby said over the phone.

"I'll be down." He said and ended the call. "Abby has a something, let's go."

The elevators chimed and as he and the team stepped off and into Abby's lab. "Whatcha got, Abs?"

"I found something in the security cameras. The shop that Y/N went to every week was this one here," Abby pulled up the shop's logo on the screen, "it's a small business that sells stuffed animals. She had been eyeing this cat for weeks. With my findings on the surveillance and evidence from the bomb, it looked like whoever made the cat used it as a trigger. Once out of the safe zone, it set off both bombs. The second one was delayed due to the stall being moved slightly during set up." She showed a few slides of the stuffed cat, one that looked similar to her cat that had just past away, and then to a video display of how the bombs worked. "I did some more digging, and found that the maker for these stuffed animals come from a company located just out of D.C."

"We spoke with the shop keepers and they said they draw up the designs and then send them out to a group that then goes around to manufacturers." Tony said.

"Tony, Ziva, go to the factory and interview the workers."

"Wait! I can do you one better." Abby said. "I managed to hack into their surveillance cameras, courtesy of McGee, and found exactly who worked on the stuffed cats for our small business. He goes by the name, James Harrington." Abby hit a key on the keyboard pulling up his James' social media. "It looks like Y/N and him had gone out a few times but about six months ago they haven't communicated or gone out."

"Let's bring him in." Gibbs said through a clenched jaw.

Gibbs was pumped for the interrogation and with a bit of yelling and one slam of the desk, James was putty in his hands. Spilling everything from how you rejected him after a few dates, and that you were always around McGee and he was furious that you could be with anyone but him.

"She always was with him. It was disgusting to watch them together every Sunday. I had to teach her boyfriend a lesson." James spat.

Gibbs eyes narrowed at the word boyfriend. "Well lucky for you, her boyfriend gets to ruin your life. Have fun in prison, while I get to continue dating her." He got up and slammed the interrogation room door closed and headed straight to the hospital, ignoring the shocked looks from Ziva and Tony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gibbs pulled your hand closer to him and rested his cheek on it as he clasped it in his. Ever since he got the confession out of James, he had been by your side waiting for you to wake up.

Ziva, Tony and McGee watched from the door way, Gibbs oblivious to the three of them watching which was very much unlike him.

"I can't believe they're dating. How did we miss this?" Ziva whispered.

"What I wanna know is how." McGee answered back.

Tony chuckled, "I bet it was after they went 50 Shades of Grey during that undercover mission."

"Do you think they've been together that long?" Ziva questioned. "That was like half a year ago."

"It explains why Gibbs avoids her during cases."

"But why keep it a secret?" McGee asked.

"Maybe it's because they're happy with just each other." Tony replied, watching Gibbs gently kiss your forehead.

Gibbs watched as you slept peacefully. You looked like an angel, to him you always did, but especially now because you looked so peaceful. You were always peaceful when you slept. He could watch you for hours, running his fingers through your hair as you cuddled into him, your head on his chest.

He closed his eyes, feeling days worth of no sleep catching up to him.

"Jethro?" He thought it was your voice, but how could it be? You've been unconscious for the past week.

"Jethro?" The voice was clearing up and it definitely sounded like you. But it had to be a dream, he thought.

"Jethro!" Your voice was much louder this time, enough that Gibbs' head sprang up off the mattress and his eyes opened to meet yours.

"Y/N?" Gibbs said shakily.

You were sitting up, your hand still in his, with a big smile on your face. "You've been asleep for a few hours, you're quite cute when you're sleeping." You giggled.

Gibbs looked at you in disbelief for a second before he crushed you to his chest, holding you tightly. "Don't you ever leave me like that again." He whispered. "From now on, anywhere you want to go I'll follow. I can't lose you."

You pulled him away and cupped his cheek. "Are you okay with that?"

"This whole thing has made me realized how much I care for you. I'm not letting you walk out that door again, especially when you want me there."

He watched you smile, cupped the back of your head and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

"No more hiding?"

"No more hiding."

Taglist:

@crimeshowjunkie

@slxmw

So sorry this took forever! So many things in my life popped up half way through writing this! The second half of this doesn't do the story line justice. Let me know what you think down below!!

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi, lovely Crepesuzette! Thanks a lot of your inspiring blog, your fics and always helpfull #fic recs! And can I ask any recs for good fics where John in the end understend the shit he did for Paul? All of this HDYS, Melody Maker, Rolling Stone etc, which not only hurted Paul but they ruined his self-esteem and creative reputation, you know. Thanks again! Love you and want you be happy everyday like you do it for me :)

Hello there, thank you for the ask—and for your kind words. Very welcome, esp. since real life has been low grade shit these past few days.

So...your ask make me think of stories where things are not only better than they were in this (clears throat) reality as we know it: there's also a focus on mutual understanding, peace-making, forgiveness. Yes?

These came to my mind...and making this list made me realize I'm really in the mood to re-read some of them! In the 70's:

stuck inside these four walls (@monkberries). Lost Weekend. John and Paul get locked up until they resolve their shit.

i can only speak my mind (@revollver). 70's. Paul reads John's 'secret' diaries that have been leaked to the press, and understands him—and himself—better.

forth and back (@monkberries). 70's—80's. Paul and John talk through songs.

A Toot and a Snore (@glowing-gold). Lost Weekend in LA. That jam session is on the page in real time, as is their slow and hot reconciliation. Will never forget the description of moustache-Paul and his nipples, *fans self*

They Say it's Your Birthday (@ohjohnnysblog). 1979. A personal favorite. Warm, nostalgic phone sex in the spirit of peace and friendship.

Down on the Farm (RosalindBeatrice), 1974. John is exposed to Wings, Paul's family, and Paul's hotness, and realizes it's all meant to lure him back...

You Will, You Will, You Will (@eveepe). John and Paul and Linda take the plunge. Excellent tension...over the phone and in person.

February in New Orleans (@eveepe). 1975. John and May visit Paul and Linda in New Orleans. Resentment is desire's favorite costume. Everyone has a good time, 2/4 have a hard-on (I am sorry).

Adventures in Total Honesty (@merseydreams). 1975. Paul and John meet backstage, and have it out. A+ banter, and so many things I wish Paul had said. Also: sex.

The lights go down (they're back in town) (@backbenttulips). 1977. Paul and John are trapped in an elevator at the Dakota. The power goes out. John comes back to live.

Something Borrowed Something New (@inspiteallthedanger). 1979. The former Beatles meet at Pattie & Eric's wedding. Paul and John face some truths.

six hours in august (@stonedlennon). 1979. A chance meeting in NYC. The love is still there.

I Still Miss Someone/ I Know That I Miss you, but I Don't Know Where I Stand/ Close the Door Lightly When You Go (RosalindBeatrice). 1976-1979. Paul and John become lovers, but their lives have changed. John feels guilty about the past, Paul has a family...Mutual empathy is needed, and accordingly grows. But it doesn't come easy.

1980 and Onwards:

The Birthday Party (@merseydreams). John and Paul meet at Ringo's Birthday Party. Paul has had therapy, and John wears denim shorts. There is only one bed.

Free Man in Paris (@backbenttulips). John and Paul get married in Paris in '61, and get a divorce seven years later. But it's not the end.

Memory Lane (@ohjohnnysblog). Old, married John and Paul leaf through a photo album and reminisce about the past, including past lovers.

and when broken bodies are washed ashore (who am i to ask for more) (wardo_wedidit): John and Paul. Now and Then.

Bermuda (@scurator): John and Paul are grown-ups and know what they want (each other, to start with).

Take A Sad Song and Make it Better (@javelinbk). 1980. John visits Paul in 1980, and they revisit the past, including their love. But their families don't magically disappear. Also by @javelinbk: Our Version of Events (Part 1, Part 2 (in progress)). 1971. Reading fan fiction helps John and Paul realize what's happening, and what's been happening in the past.

Going Nowhere (@inspiteallthedanger). 1980; John survives the shooting and returns to England. I think of this one as 'they talk about it' fic.

Comprehensive Fix-Its:

The Contract (JP). The story of John and Paul, with a happier (though bizarre) ending, and a lot of sex (good).

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) (@fingersfallingupwards). The story of John and Paul à la The Time Traveller's Wife. It takes them a long time—but in the end they do understand and forgive each other.

[boraswan]

hiiii can you write a jungkook x reader where he introduces you to his friends but u have anxiety so u are worried that u made a bad impression and and he reassures you that they loved you <3 thank you <3

thank you sm for the request. hope you like it.

❤️

jungkook x reader

fluff/comfort, reader has anxiety, mention of therapy.

800 words.

You walked up the front door of his friends house, anxiety increasing by the second. But of course, your loving boyfriend has been very patient with you all day. Very sympathetic to your worries about meeting his friends. Not enough, however, to let you stay home.

“Stop dragging your feet, babe.” he said as you sat in his desk chair, hands coming behind you to lazily massage your shoulders. He was right. Yes, you were stalling. But you weren’t about to admit it.

“I’m not, kook. Its just, there’s something wrong with your chair! I have to figure it out before something happens!” you said, feigning innocence.

“Yeah cutie. I totally appreciate you looking out for me. But… it can wait until we get back.” he replied, looking at you knowingly.

“Yeah, I mean technically it could wait but, what if we forget?” you asked, much quieter this time.

“We won’t forget, baby. I’ll put it at the top of the list.” he said, pointing to his head.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing. Everything is gonna be okay. Don’t think about the chair too much, okay?” he said sweetly, rubbing your back up and down. You both knew he wasn’t really talking about the chair.

“Okay, thank you.” you said with a half smile, looking up at him. He knew you were trying. “Gentle encouragement” is what the therapist has called it. Your sweet boyfriend agreed to attend a session with you, listening very intently to everything that was said. You could tell he really cared. But the only downside was now he was too aware. He knew your antics, and wouldn’t let you close in on yourself.

So that led you to where you are right now. Standing outside his friend namjoon’s house. Six random people you had never met before. And your boyfriend talked about them endlessly. They meant so much to him and you were worried that something bad would happen, that they might not like you.

“Your hand is shaking like a leaf babe, relax.” He grabbed your hand into his, sending you a soft smile.

“I’ll be with you the whole time, mkay?” he cocked his head cutely at you, sending a reassuring look your way.

“Mkay.” you said back, mocking his voice.

Jungkook extended his free arm to open the door, and you braced for the worst.

Only a few hours. You can do this.

Your boyfriend led you into the house, slowly making your way through the hall towards the living room, where several voices were heard overlapping each other.

You almost reached the source, when a voice behind you interrupted the tension you felt in your chest.

“Y/N? Jungkook?”

You guys turned around at the call. A tall man was smiling fondly at the two of you.

Jungkook let go of you momentarily to hug the man, who was still smiling at you kindly.

“Did he say y/n?”

“Oh my god I think so.”

Before you knew it, multiple people flooded into the hallway. They all exchanged hugs with your boyfriend. A couple of them even hugged you too. They were all welcoming, but it was so crowded, and the hall was starting to feel smaller, and your shirt was too tight. And-

“Let’s go sit down shall we?” Jungkook smiled at them, hand settling on your lower back. A nice grounding feeling. They all agreed and made their way back to the living room. You guys were the last to walk in, far enough behind for him to discreetly whisper in your ear.

“I’ve got you babe. You’re doing amazing.”

As the night went on, the boys enthusiastically told stories about their youngest member. They didn’t spare him either. It was funny watching him cringe, leaning into you to hide from the embarrassment. This went on for what felt like only few minutes, until jungkook quietly asked if you were ready to go. You confusedly clicked your phone screen on, only to see that 3 hours had passed.

“Oh my god!” you whisper yelled.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late, I’m sorry.” You whisper yelled. Not that the boys would have noticed anyways. They were in their own world arguing about the timeline of a story.

“That’s okay baby, I’m glad you’re having a good time, it’s nice to see you all getting along like this.” he said looking at you fondly, before letting out a yawn.

“Tired?” you asked with a smile.

“Yeahh.” he admitted giggling.

“Alright, let’s tell them bye.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to separate you from your new besties.” he joked.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, we can hang out for longer next time. We can meet up earlier in the day.”

“Next time?” He asked teasingly.

“Next time.” you confirmed.

❤️

[afictionaladventure16]

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Pedro Pascal x Teen/Daughter!Reader ** PLATONIC **

Best Chilean Soccer Player (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

(1.3 k) Summary: Pedro is your little league soccer coach, you both journey from struggling in something you love into becoming the best. (Fluffy)

El Gatito (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

(2 k) Summary: You bring home a kitten which your dad is against, but eventually he warms up to the cat. (fluffy)

Broken Promises (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

(4.5k) summary: When Pedro breaks a promise, you begin to act out which leads to bad decisions and broken bones. (angsty/lil fluff)

Did You Forget (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

(5.2 K) Summary: Ever since the Reader's mother passed away Pedro hasn't paid much attention to her. It isn't until Pedro finds out about the Readers dark side that he realizes what he has done (angsty/Fluff)

Because of You (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Fem!Reader)

(2.3 K) Summary: Pedro is the reader's only support system after her suicide attempt and protects her from her narcissistic mother after a bad family therapy session. (Angst/Fluff)

SERIES

It's the End of the World (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Fem!Reader)

Summary: You had seen The Last of Us and even played the game, but you never imagined it happening in real life, and neither did Pedro. You both meet in unforeseen circumstances and create a pact to help each other get to each other's destinations, but over time a bond is created. Throughout your travels, Pedro slowly realizes that he can't lose another person in life and makes it his mission to protect you.

Pt. 1 (3.1 K)

Pt. 2 (1.5 K)

Taking It All In (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader) ** COMPLETED **

Pt. I (2k)

Summary: Pedro takes his daughter for a hike in Los Angeles, which leads into an emotional conversation. (angst/fluff)

Pt. II (4.3k)

Summary: Months after the hike, Pedro gets in a fight with his daughter, but this fight leads to something bigger as you reveal something big. (Angst/Fluff)

Pt. III (3.9k)

Summary: It was supposed to be a quick trip to the store, but it quickly turned into more than just a trip, leaving Pedro to realize some things. (Angst/Fluff)

Pt. IV (3.4k)

Summary: Your slowly becoming okay with the idea of your mother coming back into your life and maybe even coming to your quinceanera, but will this be permanent or will she leave again? (Angst/Fluff)

Pt. V (6.1K)

Summary: Things take a turn for the worst when you decide to listen to a voice in your heart and get in the car with your mother.

To Build A Home (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Reader)

Pt. I (2.8k)

Summary: Summary: Your mother decides it is time for you to meet her boyfriend of six months, you are defensive at first, but you think you could get used to the idea of having this one around more often.

Pt. II (3.1k)

Summary: Pedro plans out a day for the two of you to bond, but it doesn't turn out the way Pedro and your mother expected it to.

Pt. III (3k)

Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you. You go home in hopes of finding comfort in your mother but you are met with Pedro who tries his best to be there for you in dark times marking the beginning of a movement within you.

Pedro Pascal x Reader

It's the End of the World as We Know It (Pedro Pascal x Latina!Reader)

Summary: After Covid, everyone thought they were safe, they didn't expect a fungal virus to take over the world and create a zombie apocalypse. Now you were fighting to survive on your own until you met Pedro creating a friendship and bond that would be hard to break.

Ch. 1