#or maybe I need a therapist it’s a toss up

[medicinemane]

The world is set on prescriptivism and... it doesn't jive with me

[velaryqns]

Could you do a House fanfic where after failing at treating a patient, House takes his stress and anger out on the reader? She then considers quitting being a doctor. House is confronted by Dr. Cuddy and his team, causing him to go comfort and apologize to the girl.

Uncontrolled Anger

Gregory House x Female Reader (I took it romantically for fun)

Universe: House MD

Summary: Maybe you should have known better than to question House about his feelings.

Warnings: Patient death, mentions of addictions, angst

You sat silently, your eyes on the dead body in front of you. You had watched as the team fought to help the man, all for it to fail after multiple misdiagnoses and wrong solutions. You, being a doctor, knew what they were going through. You’d gone through it a few times with your patients.

Sighing, you rest a hand on Taub’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. He returned it, then watched you go as you made your way out of the room and eventually wandered to House’s office. When you reached the glass door with his name on it, you stood silently for a moment with your arms crossed. He had one hand in a fist by the side of his head and the other filling out paperwork.

You brought your hand down to the handle, allowing yourself into his office. You took a few paces, then turned your attention to the big yellow chair by his bookshelf. You lowered yourself into the chair, watching him silently for a moment.

“How are you?” You asked gently, not wanting to annoy him while he was in the middle of scribbling on the sheet.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he muttered, still keeping his gaze away from you.

“You could at least say that you’re okay,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as you shook it. You knew he handled emotions horribly, in ways that often required you to intervene, “Greg—“

He slammed the pen down and looked at you. And you could see why he had been avoiding your gaze to begin with, “You’re not a therapist. In fact, you’re presently the reason I could end up needing one. I just want some peace and quiet because excuse me for not being Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What —“ You cut yourself off, truly hurt by his words. His blue eyes held no remorse for what he said, and you quickly stood and left the room. You bumped into Chase, but ignored him entirely as you made your way down the hall with the intention of going to the elevator.

As you stood silently in the elevator, waiting to go down to the main floor to leave for the evening, you processed why you continued to try and support the man that. You stared at the metal doors, jaw clenched as you finalized your decision.

You didn’t want to work in the same building as someone like Greg House. Cuddy wouldn’t fire him, he’s too good.

Once you reached the main floor, you went to the clinic, seeing if there was any help you could offer and breathing a sigh of relief when you were able to step in. You dove into working throughout the clinic, waiting patiently to be able to talk to Cuddy about what was going on.

You filed patients in and out of the room you were using, only stopping for nurses to clean and sterilize everything between each patient. However, your consistent flow was ruined by Foreman's sudden intrusion into the room. You stared at him.

"Do you need something? Because I would like to treat my patients," you informed him.

"Just checking on you," he shrugged, tucking his hands in his pants pocket and leaning against the door, further preventing you from leaving the room, let alone treating your patients.

"I am fine," you muttered, tossing a file on the counter and crossing your arms. You leaned against the counter, "I am tired of him behaving like a child; I never thought I'd consider leaving my position because Cuddy refuses to fire House."

"I can talk to her for you,"

"Not worth it," you shook your head, "Now can you please go?"

Foreman was reluctant for a moment, but then nodded his head and walked out of the room. Your next patient came in, and you returned to your job.

Little did you know, Foreman was taking matters into his own hands despite your protests. The team liked you, there was no denying it, so of course he turned to Cuddy because of what you'd said. It was hard to believe, especially when you typically had a strong relationship with House, even when he was being childish.

House was in his office when Cuddy went search for him, her hands on her hips. He stared blankly upon her arrival, a frown on his face as he waited for what she had to say.

"You're going to make her quit,"

"Her?" House asked, shaking his head and shrugging as he waited for an elaboration. He looked toward the office door to see the team staring at him with disapproving looks, which caused him to sigh and roll his eyes, "Y/n's choices are not my fault."

“You’re pathetic,” Cuddy muttered. House shrugged. To him, there was no point in denying it. Cuddy clenched her jaw, “I thought you liked her!”

“She’s ear grating, like you,” Lisa frowned and House shrugged once more.

“I can’t lose another good doctor because of your antics, House,”

She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving House to his own thoughts.

It was early in the evening, you’d showered and done some dishes, when there was a knock on your door. You were less than enthusiastic to open it, especially after peering through the hole to see House on the other side. He leaned on his cane lazily, a bag of what was clearly takeout food in his other hand as he looked down at you.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing food,” he held the back up to emphasize his point.

You rolled your eyes and moved to slam the door in his face, but it made contact with his cane instead. House let himself in, limping toward your couch and plopping on it. The smell of the Chinese takeout hit your nose, making your mouth water as you pushed the door shut the rest of the way and turned to face the man on your couch.

“What do you want?” You repeated, less than enthused and lacking the emotion you usually had when speaking to House.

“Not a lot of hospitals would be willing to take you,” he spoke matter of factly. He dug into the brown paper bag, pulling out bulls of food and beginning to eat out of his own, “Foreman struggled to get a new job when he had to leave—“

“Foreman was accused of malpractice, and caught,” you reminded House.

“Malpractice is a common occurrence in this hospital, you think any other Dean would hire someone who’s worked with me? You’re poorly mistaken, Dollface,”

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat, shaking your head and storming into the kitchen, “You know that?”

“I just call em like I see em,”

“If you don’t have anything genuine to say, then leave,”

There was silence, and then you heard your couch creak as he got up. Good, he got the point. That was what you thought until you heard his cane moving across the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You turned to see Greg House standing over you, and you gulped.

“What do you expect me to do here?” He questioned.

“Oh I don’t know, apologize?” You countered, side stepping him to grab a glass from a cupboard, “I was helping you. Making sure you were okay and not going to do something stupid after losing a patient — but apparently that wasn’t good enough, hm?”

“Y/n—“

“No, all I wanted to do was help you,” you faced him, “everybody in that damned hospital does what they can to help you, and this is how you repay us? That’s real shitty, House.”

House. Unlike everyone else, you rarely used his last name when talking to him. When speaking of him, sure, when in professional settings, almost always. But never in the privacy of you two or amongst friends. That’s when he realized the reality of what he’d caused.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he spoke, taking a step toward you. He leaned his cane on the counter and placed his hands on your waist. You didn’t move your arms from your sides, merely looking into his blue eyes to see if he was being genuine.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Accept the apology before I’m forced to take it back,”

And there it was.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you muttered, moving your hands to rest on his biceps. House squeezed your waist, knowing that he got what he wanted. You rose to your tip-toes, your lips just barely touching his before you pulled away, “Now come on: that take-out is calling my name.”

[oceantornadoo]

IDK! HEAR ME OUT THO!!!

Simon, staging the break in and what not so he could push you back into his arms??? INSANE!

Delicious story. Thank you for the food! <3

so originally when i made that last fic (which unexpectedly blew up tysm everyone) i added in the creepy elements almost on accident?? but this and another reply has me thinking...

tw: slight humiliation (but you'll like it)=

simon riley wasn't a bad man. he also wasn't a bad husband. at least that's what he told himself.

when you had presented him with those divorce papers a bit ago (13 months and 4 days, but who was counting), he thought it was a bluff. a joke. he had gone too far in your last argument, and that was your reaction. when he told you he'd go to therapy, you stared at him with a look he'd only see on men in the battlefield. dead all the way through, a walking husk. so he signed them and went to therapy anyways.

the whole time, this whole 13-month break, where you had been 'building a new life' or whatever, he had been planning. internalizing the commentary his therapist would make, and then spitting it back out to you while you moved out of his place. every time you seemed to forget one extra box, and who's to say if he hid a couple in his room? he had a plan.

over time, simon really seemed to have learned so much from therapy. so much about communication. he had become open and welcoming, far from that man who would respond to your complaints with hard stares and a lack of words. so maybe you met for coffee a couple of times and that's how he knew about the cafe by your new place. maybe that's how he tailed you one night after a date, just to make sure this new guy didn't try anything (and not to figure out your unit number). whatever he did, he played a dangerous game by letting you have this illusion of freedom while balancing his presence in your life, just enough to make you want more. after weeks and week of stagnant progress, he needed one extra push. something small, not even a shove.

and if he happened to mention your unit number to a bunch of shady guys that hung out in the alley by your building? happened to brag about your pretty pussy and sweet-smelling panties? maybe mention your habit of not locking the window when you left for work? who's to say. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and now here you were, back in his arms where you belonged. a little frightened but comforted in the knowledge that he could protect you. the ghost wasn't shed when he took his mask off, but you didn't need to know that.

--

your body was so used to being in simon's arms you didn't even realize you had been grinding on him for the past ten minutes. his boxers you wore were sticky with arousal as you grinded against his clothed cock in the dark. even in your dream, it was simon underneath you, no one else. "si." you panted, a near-whisper that only a military man could have heard. "dove?" he adjusted your sleeping positions, tossing the covers to give you more room to maneuver against him.

"i know i said that thing about the line not being crossed." he gave you a low chuckle. silly little girl. you had finally realized how much you needed him and he was going to milk you for all you were worth. "and?" you stopped. shit. he needed to seem more responsive. he moved you from his thigh to his boner using one arm, the other one snaking its way under your shirt to stroke your back. you moaned as he massaged the tension from the day's earlier events away, giving you sweet relief. the sweetness of the massage made a hard contrast to the friction in your core as he rubbed you against his hardened cock.

"spit it out, baby." he growled. "can you-fuck." his hand had moved to the back of your neck now, holding it in a tight grip. his hand was so large he could feel the pulse points on either side of your jaw, heart racing. finally. "can you get me off? just this once?" he snorted, moving you up and down against him faster, dragging your sensitive clit over and over. "what's the magic word?" he flipped you both around, pressing his body weight on top of you.

simon turned the light on, wanting to see how needy you were. you were panting, shirt sticky with sweat as your chest moved up and down with exertion. he hiked up your shirt and took off your boxers, exposing your sticky cunt to the cool air. he took a sniff of the fabric, noting your small gasp as if you didn't know how obsessed he was with you already. "magic word." your mouth dropped. guess you weren't getting off that easily. "please, simon." he clucked his tongue at that. "ghost?" he left out a short laugh, arms reaching out to tug his shirt off of you. your nipples were so hard, aching to be pinched and sucked just how you liked them. "not ghost." he reached over to his nightstand, pulling something out of the drawer. he fumbled with his hand for a second, then held yours up to the light as he slipped something on it.

"husband." the words left your mouth in a whoosh, eyes transfixed on your wedding ring that was on your hand. the one you had flung at him after he complained about the divorce papers, the one you said you'd rather die than wear again. and here it was, right back on your finger, sparkling in the lamplight.

simon captured your mouth in a rough kiss, entering you with his ring and middle finger at the same time. "so willing for your husband, hm? all puffy and wet. look at your cunt, darling." you both looked down at your pussy at the same time. it was squelching, your vibrator sessions not holding a candle to what your ex husband could do to you. you were almost embarrassed by how desperate your pussy looked, clit enlarged from its earlier friction. his fingers worked in and out of you, wedding ring covered in slick. you watched as he pressed his thumb to your clit in small circles, a tightening sensation in your lower belly rising to the surface. "simon, si-fuck" he gave your pussy a small slap, pulling his fingers out as you addressed him incorrectly. "husband, please." he entered you again roughly, drawing a low moan from you. he captured your nipple in his mouth, teething it just enough to make you hurt. punishment.

"please please please i'm right ther-" he pressed hard against your clit and sent you careening off the edge into your orgasm, back bowing off the bed. simon gave you small love bites as you recovered, hand still working your cunt to draw out your orgasm.

finally, he removed his fingers and drew back from you, forcing eye contact. he put both in his mouth, moaning at the taste of your arousal mixed with the metal from the wedding band. your jaw was still open, looking at him like you had never seen him before. like the sheep's skin had finally been removed, and now only the wolf remained.

"let's get you to bed, wife."

[ddejavvu]

Omg! I saw that fic you wrote based on friends tv series and i love it! Its so freaking cute!! Reading that fic remind me of another scene of friends tv series if you dont mind writing it?

Where chandler is having a bath and everyone just comes in at one point and start having conversations in the bathroom.

Maybe reader is like the therapist of the group and everyone wants her opinion on smtg and while reader is taking a bath, one by one just starting to enter and start having conversations with her and the rest until one of marauders (reader’s bf) start shooing everyone out so reader could have a peaceful bath?

i changed this a teeny bit, i'm sorry! but i've never seen friends so i think that's okay

--

"Y/N," Sirius is the first to interrupt your warm bath with James, meant to soothe his sore muscles after Quidditch practice, and lull you to sleep against his chest. Thankfully, James has poured a liberal amount of strawberry bubble bath into the water, so there's foam up to your necks.

"What's'a matter, Pads?" James answers for you while you try clearing the almost-sleep from your brain, but the man scoffs at him.

"Prongs, no offence, but I need help with makeup. And you're the last person in this castle I'd come to for that."

Before James can make an affronted retort, you pipe up, smoothing a soothing hand on James's thigh beneath the bubbles, "What do you need, Sirius?"

"Black or blue liner?" He shows off his outfit, then the two eyeliner pens in his hand.

"Black," You decide with a wrinkled nose, "Blue doesn't match your earrings."

"Thanks," Sirius grins, tossing the blue pen onto the counter and leaving with the black one, "Oh-! Sorry, Rem, go ahead."

Just when you'd been about to settle back against James's chest, Remus steps in, clearly having run into Sirius on the way out. James groans, but Remus incurs less of his wrath than Sirius often does, the price of becoming siblings as well as brothers.

"I left The Nightingale on your bed," Remus informs you, "Can I take Falling Leaves?"

"The smaller one," You nod, "Not the special edition. Sorry, Rem, I know you're careful, but I can't afford a chocolate stain on it."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but he'll respect your wishes. After all, he's careful in lending out special editions of his books, too.

"Thanks, Y/N!"

"Remus," James calls at the retreating form of his friend, "Do me a favor: close the door behind you!"

Remus does so, and James hooks an arm around your waist beneath the suds. It's warm and slightly pruned, and you sink into it gladly, reclining once more against his bare chest.

"Now that that's over," He gripes, his hand travelling below your waist, fingers hooking into the pudge of your thighs, "We could..."

"Don't even think about it," You pinch his thigh, just above the dome of his kneecap, ignoring his yelp in response, "This bath is to fix your sore muscles, not make new ones."

"I'm fine," James insists, burrowing his nose into the nape of your neck where fine droplets of water cling to your wispy hairs, "Please, darling, I swear I can-"

"Y/N?" Lily calls, the sweet tone of her voice matching the strawberry scent heavy in the air, "I know you're bathing, I'm sorry, but it'll only take a moment."

James holds his breath, but you use yours to call, "Come in, Lily," And he releases his in a scoff, fingers finally abandoning your thigh.

"I was just wondering if I could borrow your green sweater," Lily hums, politely avoiding any eye contact with James's muscled shoulders as he drapes his arms over the sides of the bathtub.

"G'head, babe," You smile sweetly at her, "You going to Hogsmeade?"

"The whole dorm is," She nods excitedly, "You wanna join?"

You consider it despite James's hand plunging back into the water and latching tight to your hip. Finally you decide, "No, but I might end up joining you if James can't learn to keep his hands to himself."

"Hey!" He tears his hand away from you once more, spilling water over the side of the tub when he finds purchase against the edge, "If you keep letting people barge in here, we won't be able to do anything anyways."

"Excellent point," You nod thoughtfully, and James's exasperated groan brings a smile to Lily's face that she shares giddily with you, "Lily, if you happen to see Professor McGonagall on your way over, send her in."

[zepskies]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

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[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[afyrian]

physical therapist! iwaizumi | headcanons

masterlist

- super kind when you first start - soft spoken and gentle hands type of beat - genuinely best physical therapist you’ve ever had for your sports injuries - understanding of when something is too much for you - ‘let’s do something else today, okay? no need to push yourself to more injuries’ [iwaizumi] - makes you scream internally - he’s just doing his job but damn it’s attractive - like the way his hands steady you - and maybe at some point you become more comfortable with each other - connecting outside of physical therapy - towards the beginning, though, you just whine about your crush to yachi - eager to return to therapy - he even makes up games for you to play - they could just be a treasure hunt to help with leg pain - or bean bag toss to help with your wrist - iwaizumi engages you like no one else - ‘if you ever move or i have to get a new p.t., i’ll mourn the loss of you’ [you] - ‘it’s not like i’ll be dead- you could just text me’ [iwaizumi] - waits until he becomes the olympic team’s trainer to ask you out - fearing an odd power imbalance - although he does help with home exercises - and the thigh touches are a little more intentional.. 

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything V (König x Reader)

The 5th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Like the characters? 

Sunshine Masterlist  || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: Ya’ll are in for a treat with this series. I just figured out the plot like 10 minutes ago hahaha

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension 

Warning: Graphic Language 

You glared at the woman before you, fury simmering beneath your skin. You felt like you were on fire, you felt like you could commit heinous crimes- you knew that you could kill them.

“I understand that you may feel like this isn’t needed,” the stupid fuck soothed. “But therapy is a proven solution. I can help get you back up and running.” 

Therapy. 

Your fingers dug into the armrests.

“They told me this was training.” You were chewing on the words, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Deep down you’d known that this was coming, you’d declined ‘help’ after the initial incident but now there was no hiding the darkness that plagued your mind. Everyone had seen it. 

Everyone.

“This is training,” the doctor smiled. “Training of the mind.” 

You visibly cringed. They’d made sure to give you the most disarming person they could find. Kind eyes, an easy smile and a relaxed posture. They looked vulnerable. If the doctor was the most fragile in the room, then it would encourage you to step out and spill your trauma with tears and snot bubbles. Not you. 

You sneered, leaning forward to rest your arms on your knees. “Being chosen to be my therapist is a shit go, Doc.” 

“Actually,” the corner of their lips curled upward. “This’ll piss you off more but I’m doing a friend a favour.” 

You blinked, surprise snatching the next crude words from your tongue. The doctor leaned back into their chair, clicking the pen a couple of times as if emphasising a point. As you stared at them, they stared back, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren’t as vulnerable as they seemed. 

“Laswell?” You queried. 

The therapist snorted softly. “Price.” 

Your spine straightened, a deep sense of anger twisting violently within your chest. 

Price. 

“Ooh,” the doctor tutted softly, leaning forward in their seat. “Didn’t like that one, did you?” 

You sneered at them, your eyes narrowed and your walls higher than ever. What did they know about what you liked and disliked? What did they know of your relationship with Price? 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you had it your way, you wouldn’t talk at all,” the doctor frowned. 

“Then take the fucking hint.” 

Their gaze trailed over your body, taking in the way you leaned away from the conversation. You were an open book and no matter how aggressive the mask you wore was- you were readable. With a huff, the therapist tossed their notebook over their shoulder lazily. It clattered onto the bench behind them, scattering the miscellaneous items in its path. 

“Alright, Birdy. Let’s go off the record then,” they gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “You’re shitty with Price.” 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about him-” 

“You feel like he’s betrayed you.” 

You blinked, fingers trembling even though they were curled into fists. The overarching thought that had been plaguing you for weeks was picked apart by some random fucking doctor. The words were out, you weren’t the one that had said them but they were in the air anyway. It felt good to hear them aloud rather than the screaming thought over and over in the recesses of your mind. 

“Yes.” The confirmation was bitter on your tongue. You waited for the doctor to shut you down, you waited for them to monologue about how your feelings were childish and unprofessional. They were providing you this service as a favour to the Captain, you could only assume that they were friends. 

Instead, the therapist simply nodded. “I would too, Birdy.” 

You loosed a breath that you hadn’t realised you were holding. 

“What was your name again, Doc?” You rasped, eyes narrowing. They shifted in their seat, taken off guard by the sudden change in subject but willing to share nonetheless. 

The doctor shot you a smile- genuine this time.  

“They call me Saint.” 

____

While you didn’t appreciate being ambushed with it, therapy hadn’t been as bad as you’d imagined. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in an attempt to release some tension as you walked.

Every day, you were required to present to the doctors office for a psych appointment. 

Every day, Saint had picked your thoughts apart bit by bit. 

Although you hadn’t intended to talk, you realized quickly that Saint didn’t just look disarming- they were disarming. There was no judgement as you spoke, not when you told them about your murderous nightmares and not when you told them that you’d wanted to beat down the new sniper. 

They only nodded, explaining that it- surprisingly- was natural to feel like that after what you’d experienced. 

You felt validated. 

Less like a liability and more like a recovering victim. 

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt as you laid eyes on the kitchen, the light spilling from the open doorway and out into the hall. You raised a brow at the sight, knowing that only one person would really be awake at this time of night. 

Ghost. 

The flutter in your chest caught you off guard, the thought of seeing Simon had you excited. It’d been a while since you’d both last spoken, a hand on the shoulder as he muttered a “see you soon,” and a “be safe.” All that, right before he boarded a plane with Sunshine in tow. 

“Yeah,” the newest sniper had winked at you with a curved smile. “See you real soon, gorgeous.” 

You hated them, you were sure of it. They were nauseatingly glib, each word rolling off their silver tongue with all the ease but no truth. You couldn’t believe anything they said, you’d be stupid if you did. 

As you approached the kitchen slowly, you heard hushed voices. They were arguing- aggressive and quickly spoken. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sunshine snapped, their words breathless. “For the rest of our time here, this is how you want it to be?” 

From what you’d seen, the new sniper had a reputation for being self-posessed and controlled. They wanted to watch you unravel beneath their sentences, but in order for them to do that they’d have to be unphased by whatever’s thrown at them. 

Right now, there was no sign of that person. 

“What “I want it to be” is you doing your fucking job and me doing mine." The hostility in Simon's tone had you taken aback. You’d never heard him so aggressive towards a teammate and for a split moment, you felt bad for Sunshine. 

“It was!” The sniper shouted, their exhaustion and frustration painstakingly clear. 

“You were reckless.” 

“I was saving you!” 

“I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost finally snapped. The sound of something clattering followed by Sunshine’s sharp breath had you tense. “I don’t need anything from you.” 

There was a soft touch against your shoulder and your heart stuttered in your chest. Fear electrified your body as you spun around. A hand pressed down firmly against your lips, suffocating the scream rising from your throat. 

König’s eyes were narrowed, his head ducked so that he could meet your gaze head on. The look he gave you was accusatory and shame quickly flooded your cheeks. Your fingers came to rest shakily against his wrist, pushing weakly against his hold. 

His brows pulled into a frown. 

“Are you asking me to just let you fucking die?” Sunshine rasped, their seething voice reminding you of where you were. König’s eyes drifted from yours to over your shoulder aimlessly as he listened to their conversation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ghost drawled. You could hear him struggling for control, the way he drew each breath like it was painful. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The sniper exclaimed. “If it was Birdy instead of me today you wouldn’t have an issue with it-” 

“But you’re not Birdy,” Ghost snapped, “are you?” 

Silence flooded the space between you all. 

You felt ashamed of yourself. You were somewhere you shouldn’t have been, you were listening to a conversation that you were never intended to hear. This was something personal, the hatred and electricity between Sunshine and Ghost forbidden for your understanding. 

König must have come to the same conclusion. The man shot you a hard stare, his hands falling from your lips to grip your shoulders. He guided you backward quietly, trying to provide an escape that wouldn’t alert them to your presence. 

“No, Sir,” Sunshine’s voice was faint now as you pulled away from the two. “I’m not Birdy.” 

You knew then that something had changed. It was in their voice, it was in the air, it was in the venom of their words- it was a suffocating emotion that you knew too well. 

They were hurt. 

But, hurt breeds bitterness and there was nothing but hatred in Sunshine’s final words. 

I’m not Birdy. 

König sucked in a breath and you knew that he’d heard it as well. When he finally managed to pull you both through the doors of your dormitory unscathed, he let you go. There was no gentleness in his expression this time when he appraised you. 

“What were you thinking?” He growled, running rough fingers through his hair. “That was wrong.” 

“I know,” you whispered, shaken. 

“You shouldn’t have been there,” König continued with a large step away from your quivering body. He was riled up and his anger stimulated your own. Who was he to lecture you? 

“You shouldn’t have been there either,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

König shot you a stern look. “I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t find you eavesdropping, naseweis.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. While you weren’t falling apart at the sight of him anymore, it didn’t mean that you wanted to be around him. You still wanted nothing to do with König, no interaction, no contact- nothing.

“I don’t need you, of all people, lecturing me on being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” you threw over your shoulder as you walked. There was a huff from the man behind you, then the fall of his footsteps following in suit. 

“Doesn’t the incident make me an expert on that?” König questioned from beside you, keeping pace as though it were a leisurely stroll. You glared up at him, forcing the growing rage clawing at your chest to stay caged. 

“You think it’s funny?” You hissed. “Am I a fucking joke to you?” 

“Of course not!” König’s voice hardened. You both rounded the corner towards your room, it felt like the quicker you moved the easier it was for him to keep up. Another infuriating feature that the Austrian possessed, you’d add it to the already mile-long list. 

“Then why can’t you just leave me alone?” You spun on your heel, facing the beast head on. “It’s like you’re everywhere, König. I can’t escape you, I enter a room and you’re there. I turn a corner, you’re there. I go to sleep and there you fucking are.” 

König raised a brow, leaning his shoulder against the frame beside him. “I’m not stalking you, Birdy. If that’s what you’re trying to imply.” 

“Is that why you’re standing in my bedroom doorway?”

The man’s spine straightened as he took up his own weight, emerald gaze pinning you to your place. It was as though he were surprised, as though he was just now realising that he had been following you. Your chest was heaving as you glared up at him. You wanted him to deny it, to tell you that you were imagining it all- you wanted to be angry. 

“You’re a worrying person,” König finally said. The words almost sounded like an admission, although of what you were unsure. You jaw tightened as you retreated another step back into the safety of your room. 

“No,” you corrected, “you’re a worrying person.” 

König sighed, letting the silence fall in between you for a beat. There was conflict across his expression before finally his eyes narrowed. He stepped into the room. 

Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“Do you think I want to hurt you?” 

There it was. 

It was the question that plagued you as you lay in bed every night, staring at your bedroom door. Or lack thereof, you should say. There was nothing on the hinges, not since König had kicked it down. 

He’d thought you were in danger. You lay before him, unconscious and dreaming. He could have done anything, he could have finished the job. 

But he didn’t. 

König’s head tilted as he observed you, watching you struggle for an answer. His fingers lightly brushed against your forearm and you froze, eyes wide as you stared up at him. He was so tall, dominating every space he entered. He was a giant amongst men, a god. 

“Do you think I want to hurt you, Birdy?” König said again. He didn’t lean down, didn’t drop down to your height this time. He wanted your answer, he wanted you to look at him and take him as he was- he wanted the truth. 

“No,” you whispered. 

The truth. 

Your body trembled as though the room had dropped to subzero temperatures but your skin was on fire. Heat bloomed across your chest, racing the length of your spine, neck and cheeks.

König’s eyes softened and he swayed backward lazily, as though he were drunk fighting for his balance. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. He didn’t ask why you were still afraid, he knew that was an unfair question. He never expected you to be comfortable with his presence. 

But the shift between you both was tangible. 

“Am I right?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, desperate and vulnerable. An offering, an olive branch an extension of trust. 

 Something washed over the man before you, something you’d never seen before. His gaze was ferocious, jade fire burning beneath those lashes as it scorched your skin. Determination tightened his jaw and his thumb brushed across the skin of your arm like a promise. 

An unspoken response. 

Yes. 

Your breath left your chest as you took another step away, suffocating in his presence. König inhaled heavily, his hands falling back to rest at his sides. 

“I still-” You began, twisting your fingers anxiously. 

“I know.” 

You still hadn’t forgiven him. 

There was a long way to go, but now the path had changed. Rather than there being a straight road, shrouded in hatred, there was a fork. A split in the path that required a decision, one that you weren’t quite ready to make yet. 

König cleared his throat, softening his stance with conscious effort. It was as if he remembered that he was meant to be disarming. Watching the huge man try to shrink himself for your comfort was surreal, nothing like what you’d imagined when you’d first laid eyes on him after your recovery. 

Ghost had never made himself smaller for you when you came out of hospital. He was slower, gentler, as though dealing with a frightened animal- but he never pretended to be something that he was not. 

“Do you think they heard us?” You changed the topic as your mind fell back to Ghost and Sunshine. “How would we explain that?” 

König blinked, clearly glad for the break in intensity. He shifted backward, moving to make his escape as your interaction came to a close. For once, he was the one running from you.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he muttered, an ironic smile playing at his lips. “They won’t have a hard time believing that given our history.” 

 The man offered you a nod, fingers tapping against the door with finality- his own farewell. You were glad that he hadn’t said ‘goodnight’, that he hadn’t bothered with niceties. You were not friends. Not allies. 

You weren’t sure what you were. 

When he disappeared around the door, his footsteps retreating down the hall, you finally let yourself relax. Jitters skittered across your body, the remnants of electricity from your confrontation buzzing beneath your skin. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The words struck a chord of discomfort within you. 

They followed you through your night routine, plaguing you in the shower, lingering as you made a cup of tea, whispering sickness as you laid in bed. They made you nauseous, they made you dizzy, they were disconcerting. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The whole accident had been such a tragic coincidence, a monumental mistake. Almost impossible in an environment where communication is key, everything working in perfect tandem to ensure your demise. 

Throughout the length of your military career, you’d always been taught to never take anything as chance. If a bush rustled beside you, there was a possibility that it was an animal- but also that it could be an enemy. If there was a light beneath a door, it could have been left on or there was someone waiting for you on the other side. You were taught not to trust coincidence. 

The failure of comms, the false intel of a sniper on a roof, the unexpected of KorTac, the largest soldier of their team being sent to find you- all of it was a perfectly timed but tragic coincidence. 

You tossed in your bed, trying to drown the thoughts from your crumbling mind. It seems you didn’t need a nightmare tonight to bring on terror. Your resolve began to slip, the sudden sense of dread gripping you by the throat. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

You wanted to rake the thoughts from your brain with your bare fingers. You wanted to rip out the connection you’d made and go to sleep in bliss ignorance.

Wrong place, wrong time. 

The way König had brought it up, the way he’d said it, maybe he was feeling it too. Maybe you weren’t as insane as you felt. Maybe your thoughts weren’t as unreliable as they seemed. You clenched your jaw, nails digging into the skin of your palm hoping that the pain would pull you back from the edge you teetered on. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

Wrong for both you and König … but, as you lay staring at your missing door, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe it was all just right for somebody else.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 10, Uneasy - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, Jade Carthage (sorry), petty behavior.

Word Count: 368

Previously On...: The Lion, the Witch, and the Audacity of this Bitch... Bucky had the balls to answers a call from Jade, abruptly ending sex with you to do so. You contemplated getting back into your old self-harm habits, but decided against it. You and Bucky argued, and it seemed like you really got through to him when you asked him to think of how he'd want you and Steve to interact every time he found himself in a situation with Jade. I'd say it seemed to work, but this is only Chapter 10 out of 28 :(

A/N: As promised, due to my lack of any updates yesterday, here's your second update for today! It's short, I know, but at least you didn't have to wait an entire day to just get < 370 words! :D

I love you! (no question mark) Also, when reviewing it to post, I noticed there was no swearing, and I thought 'can't have that! gotta reputation to maintain!' So I added a 'fucking' at the end, just to keep things on brand.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23

While Bucky took his shower, you threw on one of his Henleys and made your way to the communal kitchen to grab some snacks for your film. To your disdain, Jade was already there, pouring herself a glass of juice.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked with a smirk as she put the juice back in the fridge. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but you and Jamie were just arguing so loudly.” 

“We’re fine,” you said. You grabbed a couple of bags of chips, some Twizzlers, chocolate, and some drinks. “But thank you so much for your apparent concern.”

“Didn’t sound fine to me,” she beamed. “You forget, I have super soldier hearing. Maybe you should consider getting a new therapist, since the one you’re seeing now clearly isn’t helping. I’m heading back to my room, but don’t feel the need to keep the fighting down on my account, ‘kay? It’s better than Netflix!” With a wink, she turned and walked out the door, juice in hand.

In your anger, you were gripping one of the bags of chips so tightly, it popped open in your hand. Coming to a quick and, probably stupid decision, you grabbed your snacks and raced back to your room.

Bucky was just coming out of the bathroom, with only a towel around his waist, when you burst through the door, tossing the snacks and drinks onto your nightstand.

“Ready for the movie now, doll?” he asked, toweling off his damp hair.

“Changed my mind,” you said as you started taking off your clothes. “Sex is back on the table.”

Bucky grinned at you, but his face quickly fell. “Are you sure, sweets? What changed all of a sudden?”

You pulled the towel from around his waist, licking your lips as his cock sprung free, already growing hard in front of you. “Just something I heard,” you told him before pouncing on him. “I’m gonna need you to make me scream, Barnes.”

“It’ll be my pleasure, doll,” he said before hoisting you up and kissing you.

You knew you were being petty, and it was not a great quality, but you didn’t care: you were going to make sure Jade Carthage heard every. single. filthy. fucking. thing.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Therapist

Rosie Rosenthal X Therapist! Reader

Summary: Rosie needs to stop controlling everything; maybe his therapist can help...

Warning: +18/ sub!Rosie/ softdom!reader/ riding/ oral sex (f and m)/ forbidden relationship/ mention of death/ swearing/ praise/ use of Y/n/ fingering/

Word count: 3.0k

Her official job title was military surgeon, but since the soldiers needed someone to talk to, Y/n became their confident and gave them advice, she heard a lot of things every day, but today, her newest patient was Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal. A few weeks ago, he was the only plane back from a mission, he saw everyone go down, word on the base was that he was closing to everyone, he didn’t talk about it with anyone, he shut down and acted like nothing happened. As she got ready to see him, she looked at his file, and she looked at his pictures, he was good looking, but she had to stay professional. She saw man like him all the time, not wanting to show any emotions, acting tough but if she said the right things, she could crack this wall he built up.

When he knocked at her door, he was kind of nervous, he didn’t like to talk about what was happening in the air, not with his colleagues and certainly not with a random person. Y/n opened the door, looking at the pilot in front of her, she told him to come inside as she closed the door behind him. ‘’Major Rosenthal, pleasure to meet you, I’m Dr. Mitchell’’ she introduced herself as she sat on a couch in front of him. ‘’Please, call me Rosie’’ he said, sitting down. ‘’Rosie how are you feeling?’’ she shyly smiled, she saw men all the time, but Rosie was really handsome. She had to supress the thoughts she had, they weren’t professional. ‘’Don’t take it personally, Doc, but I don’t know what I’m doing here’’ he started, anger could be heard in his voice. ‘’I understand your frustration, Rosie, but you did fly the mission with the most casualties’’ she delicately commented.

It had been 45 minutes since the session started and Rosie was impatient, he shouldn’t be here and as beautiful as Dr. Mitchell was, he wanted to get out of her office. ‘’Can I ask you one last question, Rosie?’’ she asked, looking at him. He bobbed his head, slowly, before taking a deep breath. ‘’Do you like being in control?’’ she simply asked. He didn’t understand the question. ‘’In control of what?’’ he spat, frustrated. ‘’Things in your life, the time you get up, what you eat, where you go and in control in aspect of your life, like friendships or sexual intercourse’’ she coughed at the end of her sentence. Her cheeks were becoming red and the air in the room felt heavy. ‘’Yeah, I like to control my own life, and sometimes, uh, yes, I’m, uh in control in the- the- bedroom, why do you ask?’’ he stuttered. He tried to not show how nervous he was. ‘’Because that’s why you’re angry of being here, not having control. I’m going to free you from this session’’ he walked towards the door. ‘’Major, we see each other in a week, during this time, can you try to do something that needs you to not be in control.’’ She blurts out. ‘’Like what?’’ he asks, because nothing comes in his mind. ‘’Ask a friend to set up your alarm, let someone organize something, and if you find a woman, let her be in charge’’ she blushed, again. ‘’Of the date or something.’’ She babbled, trying to not sound like she was encouraging him to have sex with someone. ‘’I’ll try, Doc’’ he said before leaving the room.

She couldn’t sleep, too many sinful thoughts were in her mind. It wasn’t professional to think about a patient that way. What was she thinking, suggesting him to have sex and not being in control?! That night, she tossed and turned, thinking about Major Rosenthal in an incriminating way, good news was, she had one week before seeing him again. Bad news was, she had one week before seeing him again.

He really fucking tried, he let his friend set his alarm, he almost did everything she asked him to, but he didn’t see how it helped him. Plus, he had wet dreams about her all week. He kept thinking about having sex with her, how she would moan his name, how her innocent gaze would be when she sucked him off. He was nervous before his appointment. He didn’t know how his body was going to react when he sees her. Nonetheless, he entered her office, smelling her perfume as he pushed the doors. There she was, wearing a white blouse with a beige skirt. When she turned to face him, he thought he was going to faint, since when did she wore glasses? They were transparent, but still it gave her this innocent look that drove him mad.

‘’Major, how have you been?’’ she smiles as she looks at him. He plays with his fingers a little bit, before sitting down in front of her. ‘’Frustrated, Doc, I’ve tried to give up control, but it’s hard’’ he said. That and the fact that he kept thinking about having sex with her didn’t help. ‘’And what did you try to do?’’ she bit her lips as she wrote what he was saying. The air was hot in the room, Rosie was practically boiling alive. ‘’Everything, except things that involved a woman’’ he admitted. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek to supress a grin on her face. She looked at his lips, God she wanted to kiss him right now. She cleared her throat as she pushed her thoughts far away, at least she tried. ‘’And how did it go?’’ she asked. ‘’Like shit, I don’t understand how this is going to help me getting back in the plane’’ he confesses. ‘’Rosie, the urge you feel, of getting back in the plane. That’s because you feel guilty of being alive. You don’t understand why them and not you.’’ She blurts out. ‘’Can I sit next to you’’ he asks, before getting up. Y/n nods and bites her lips again. He was listening to her psychoanalysis of him, watching her face, seeing how she blushed her she caught him looking at her. ‘’But maybe I’m wrong’’ she whispered, looking at him. ‘’Do you have problems with proximity?’’ she asks him. She watches as he shakes his head. ‘’So, you don’t think that everyone around you is going to die?’’ she clarifies. ‘’Why all these questions, Doc?’’ his voice was low, making her shiver.

‘’I’m just trying to understand your mind’’ she breaths out. He noticed how her breathing got quicker and her pupils were dilated. ‘’I just think we would have a clearer idea of what’s rushing you back if you opened up to me’’ she stated, avoiding eye contact, he was so damn beautiful, Y/n thought that if their eyes met, she was going to be as red as a tomato. The tension in the air was dangerously close to burst. He moved his leg ‘accidentally’ touching hers, he watched as she hissed, but she wasn’t scared, she was in the same state as him; desperate. ‘’You’re right, Doc, I feel guilty for being alive, so I try to control everything around me, but this week as been torture. I kept thinking about you’’ he admitted, he wanted to see if she was bold enough to flirt back. Y/n blushed even harder as she took her glasses off, putting them on the side table. She looked at Rosie. ‘’What were you thinking about’’ she tried to stay professional, but it was hanging by a thread. She moved her leg so their leg would touch. He looked at their legs and looked back up to her. ‘’Testing your theory with you, Doc’’ he admitted. Y/n blinked multiple times before biting her lips, again. ‘’Really?’’ she flirted, still not daring to look at him in the eyes. ‘’Dead serious, you’re all I’ve been thinking about all week’’ he leans closer to her face, he could hear her heart beating really fast. ‘’And what are you going to do about it?’’ she breathed out as her eyes trailed all over his body. He smirked; she was flirting back. ‘’I can think of a few things, but again, I’m not good at letting someone else be in control’’ he teased. ‘’I can teach you how’’ she said, against his lips. They took one last look at the other before breaking the rules and kissing each other.

He made clear that he was going to be the dominant one, but Y/n had to remind him. ‘’I’m in control, remember Rosie’’ she grins as she kisses his neck. ‘’Then show me -ah- show me how to let go’’ he breathed out. She smiled as she pushed herself on top of him, as she began to grind her hips, his hands found their way on her thighs. ‘’Let me take care of you, Rosie’’ she whispered in his ears. Y/n felt his erection on her covered core, she wanted him so much. They were both breathing heavily, he watched her breast move as she breathed. He began unbuttoning her blouse, she looked at his fingers with a smirk on her face. She kept moving her hips to a slow, sensual pace, it drove him crazy, he needed her to do something else. His knuckles were turning white, he was gripping the couch too tightly. ‘’Use your words, Major. You want me to do something, you ask’’ she breathed out, kissing his neck. He threw her blouse on the ground and kissed her collarbones. ‘’Please, Doc, ah, please do something’’ he whimpered. Y/n grins before sliding off his lap to kneel in front of him.

‘’You touch me, and I stop, got it?’’ she looked at him in the eyes. His chest was rising with pleasure, how he wanted to take control. He quickly nodded before unbuckling his belt. He let the woman take his pants and boxer off. She was surprised by his length, he was big. She licked her lips before pressing small kisses on the top. Y/n could see Rosie struggling to keep his hands to himself. He threw his head back and his pulse quickened. Y/n kept kissing the top on his length, then she brought one hand at the base of his cock and started to slowly, stoke it. She saw goosebumps on his thighs. ‘’Words, Major’’ she reminded him. ‘’I need you to suck me off, please, Doc, plea’’ his word got lost in throat when she fully took him in her mouth. He moaned in surprise, causing the woman to giggle, sending vibration on his cock. He couldn’t help it, one of his hands went in her hair, she moved her head back, taking his length out of her mouth, making Rosie whimper. ‘’No hands’’ she smirked.

Rosie wanted to say fuck those rules so bad, but he thought that she was so hot, taking control and taking care of him like that. So, he took his hand off and she resumed what she was doing. She never could’ve guessed how vocal Rosie was, whimpers, breathy moans, small growls and shaky breath, that man wasn’t afraid of making sure she knew she pleasured him. Y/n felt his length throb in her mouth, she looked up and it was a sight for sore eyes. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing his abs, his head was thrown back and his Adam apple kept bobbing. Then, when she felt him getting close, she stopped everything. ‘’No’’ he whined. Y/n smiled and got up in front of him, stripping from her skirt. ‘’I didn’t even touch you’’ he tried to plead his case. ‘’I need to come, please, Doc, let me come’’ he begged. He looked so good like this, begging and submissive. His cheeks were red, he looked sweaty but in a hot way. ‘’You want to come, Major’’ she teased in a sensual voice. He nodded, swallowing hard. ‘’Please’’ he whispered. She got rid of her panties, he wanted to touch her so bad, so he swallowed his pride and decided to fully give her control. ‘’Can I touch you, Y/n?’’ her name rolled off his tongue like a prayer. She looked at him, smiling as she sat on the couch in front of him, she spread her legs and looked at him. He got off the couch and crawled to her, he was like a starved man. She had to stay strong, because the look he gave her as he crawled to her was enough for her to throw every ounce of feminism out the window. His eyes were dark, his mouth slightly opened, and his curls were messy. When he reached her, he trailed his hands on her bare thighs, before pulling her closer to him by the back of her thighs. She yelped, surprised by his move. ‘’Can I, please, eat you out?’’ he pleaded, looking at her in the eyes. ‘’Yes, Major’’ she breathed out. He sunk between her thighs and pressed small kisses to her inner thigh before kissing her exposed flesh.

His mouth felt so good, his mustache was adding something else, it was itching, but it felt so good. She threw her head back as her hands found his curls. He thought about playing with the same rules as hers, but she was in control. He was humming around her clit, sending vibrations that drove her mad. One of Rosie’s hands snuck up to play with her breast. She put one of her hands on top of his, she squeezed it to show him how he made her feel. Y/n arched her back as she moaned his name. But Rosie’s other hand pressed down on her stomach, adding pressure. ‘’Oh shit, Rosie, I’m close’’ she breathed out. He hummed to show her that he heard her, then decided to stop playing with her breast, he inserted one finger inside of her. ‘’Holy fuck, you’re soaking wet. Is that because you like to be in control? Uh, you like to be in charge’’ He grins, she felt hot around his finger. ‘’Yeah, right there’’ she breathed out. He looked at her, she looked like a goddess, her hair messy, her skin glowing with the coat of sweat, he could’ve come just with this sight. As he added another finger, he felt her clench around him. ‘’That’s right, come for me, pretty girl’’ he praised her. That was enough to send her over the edge, she arched her back as she was sent into pure extasy.

It took her a few minutes to recover, but when she did, she slid down the couch, to reach Rosie. He was seated against the other couch; she got on top of him. His arms were laid on the couch, he looked so ridable. ‘’Ready, Major?’’ she asked against his lips. ‘’Please, ride me’’ he sighed. Y/n positioned herself on top of him, their lips were touching, but they weren’t kissing. She sunk down on him, they both breathed out, shakily as Y/n took the time to adjust to him. ‘’Fuck’’ he moaned. He kissed her neck, to distract her from the uncomfortable stretching. When she felt ready, she began rocking her hips. ‘’Can I touch you?’’ he moaned. ‘’Yes’’ she whimpered. He places his hands on her hips, to try and guide her to a faster pace, but she denied him. She shook her head as she slowed down the rhythm. ‘’Nah, I’m still in control’’ she smirked. He pushed his tongue on his cheek as he caressed her hips. The smell of sex in the room was intoxicating. She began to rock her hips faster, because it was torture for her too. She arched her back as she kissed him sloppily. The pleasure was too much, she bit down his bottom lip, not too hard, but hard enough to send shivers down his spine. He decided that he wanted more intimacy, so he put his hands on her back and came closer to her body, he was hugging her, but the proximity allowed his pelvic bone to touch her clit and add stimulation. She put her hands in his back, scratching him in the process. The pace was fast, raw, sensual, almost animalistic. They both needed a release. ‘’I’m close, please let me come’’ he moaned in her ear. ‘’Please, please, please’’ he kept begging. Y/n’s brain started to form a sentence. ‘’Come with me, at the same time’’ she ordered. Since he was close, he decided to drop one of his hands and stimulate her clit with his fingers. Right now, she couldn’t care less about him asking permission to finger her, she was close, and he was helping her get there.

Rosie felt Y/n clench around his dick, her thighs started to shake from all this stimulation, he sucked on her neck. ‘’I’m gonna cum, c’mon pretty boy, cum with me!’’ she whined. ‘’You’re doing so good’’ she praised him. It was enough to trigger both their climax, they were a moaning mess as their body shook from pleasure. Y/n could feel his hot release throbbing inside of her and slipping on her inner thigh. They were both out of breath and glistening with sweat.

It took a minute for the both of them to come down from Nirvana. ‘’That was’’ he started, out of words to describe what just happened. ‘’See, letting someone else in charge can be fun’’ she chucked. He rolled his eyes as be playfully hit her ass. She yelped in surprise but smiled. Y/n got up first, even though she didn’t trust her legs, she got her panties back on as she sat on the couch. Rosie got up too, putting his boxers back on and sitting next to her. ‘’Thank you, Y/n, for everything’’ he said, kissing the top of her head. She smiled at the small display of affection. ‘’It was my pleasure.’’ She teased. They both laugh and look at each other. ‘’Do you think you could move my next appointment to earlier in the week?’’ he asked, making her laugh. ‘’Why?’’ she asked. ‘’Because I’m a hard learner and I’ll have to give you control again.’’

[brucewaynehater101]

Saw the ask about rogues and civilians thinking Red Robin died while he's off on BruceQuest AND discovering he spent years undercover as a sex worker and thus band together to makes entire sections of the city impossible for other Bats to enter

Fuck, how does this affect Red Hood? From Jason's own personal thoughts on Tim and (how much does he learn?) to his reputation

Yeah when Tim's hero reputation is irreparably FUCKED before he does things himself and goes off on BruceQuest, all hell is breaking loose and now a good chunk of Gotham's people and rogues are . . .

As far as they know right after the kid got Smear Campaigned he fucking DIED

Wtf would they even do after that?

Dick-as-Batman is gonna have it horrifically, how are civilians and rogues gonna treat Damian as Robin? Will they try and kidnap Dami to try and save him from Jane Doe's fate?

What does any major character think of this? Individually or collectively?

How does this affect their relationships with each other? Oh God, Alfred; what about him?

During BruceQuest do rogues and civilians alike try to reach out to the third Robin's associates to see if they need help themselves like Cassie

Joker???? What about him and if this is a timeline where Tim was earlier Joker Junior'd? What will he think when news comes out what will he do?

Does Harley decide, after Red Robin returns and it's revealed the kid is alive and well, to go "Joker is objectively 100% awful but he was up to something" and adopt Tim as her own kid of sorts, but without Joker sharing custody and doing it with her owm friends instead like Ivy?

My brains melting, go crazy go stupid

Alright!!! Let's try to answer the questions ^^

For Jason/Red Hood, it depends on how much RH is associated with the Bats. Before the BruceQuest, it might not be well-known that he's allies with the Bats (especially because he's shot at or tried to beat him up). Depending on how public his aggression towards Robin (now RR) was, this might endear him to the areas that are closed off. As far as emotionally, there Jason had to resort to crime and desperate measures just to eat. Dealer's choice on whether he had to resort to selling himself or not. Regardless, I bet Jason throws up repeatedly in horror and distraught after finding out that Tim has been doing that during his time as Robin (not sure when Tim would have started, but at least as young as 15). There's a bit you can explore there with angst and shit (especially since Jason attacked Tim at the age of 15).

I think that maybe Gothamites would believe that Robin has lost his marbles in grief. However, that makes perfect sense due to everything he's been through (as far as what's publicly known of him being a child therapist, Robin, and losing Batman). Despite them thinking it's possible he did lose himself, at least he wasn't putting people in the hospital like Batman did. I think they would be more upset that RR wasn't supported and how hypocritical everyone was.

It's a toss-up on how they would treat Damian. It probably varies between despising the child for taking over R3's place, wanting to protect him, and being indifferent to Batman throwing another child into the line of fire.

Alfred is debatable. How cruel it is to Alfred and how the old man reacts depends entirely on how he acted to Tim during his years of Robin, whether the 16th birthday incident happened, and whether he intervened when Damian said harsh comments to Tim. That would change Alfred's reaction to being either "fuck it's all my fault" or "what more could I have done so this didn't happen?"

Maybe a rogue or two tries to reach out to RR's non-Gothamite associates. I'm curious how Anarky reacts to all of this.

Adding JJ to this AU would be so fucking cruel to Tim, but I'm down for that. That would give him parent issues with 3 sets of parents, but Harley is just a complicated mess of emotions and shit. I think she would take on more of an aunt role to Tim due to the whole JJ incident. There could be some angst there with Tim calling her Aunt Harley

[allurilove]

Celebrating the fourth of July with Henry and yandere husband. Also happy 4th of julyyyyy 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

I'm celebrating by eating a lot of hotdogs! I haven't had them in so long, and I sort of forgot how good they could be.

Your husband grunted as you handed him the aluminum pan, heavy with copious amounts of tiny hamburger sliders you made for the neighborhood party. You made sure that you looked nice and that Henry was presentable too. Your husband wasn't the celebrating type, and he was confused when you handed him a shirt with an American flag printed on the front. He shook his head, refusing to even touch or wear it. It just felt wrong to be overly patriotic like that.

Your husband still wanted to "blend" into the crowd, so he opted to slick his hair back and wear a hat backward, a dark blue t-shirt with a fun graphic on the breast pocket, jean cargo shorts, and his black Sambas. From afar, he looked like a college student—in better words, he looked like the typical frat boy. You were surprised he even had clothes like that.

You held Henry's hand as you walked to your neighbor's backyard. You pushed the gate open for your husband and guided him to the table where the food was. "Now that looks good..." You took a banana pudding cup for you and your son. Your husband huffed and finally put down the heavy tray. He took off the top and tossed it into the trash. He looked around to see the other people who decided to show up, and he gulped as he saw his number one rival... the Skylar family.

Fuck, were they the perfect family.

They could model for Gap or Old Navy with how amazing they looked together. Like the good man he was, your husband approached Lucas Skylar. Lucas was sort of an odd man (your husband thought), and he was a sex therapist who mainly worked with those horrible reality TV couples. You know the ones: people who came onto a show for clout and fame, really only looking to win money and cheat into having an easy life. The ones who pair up with other people who matched their physical aesthetics. It was sort of genius, and your husband slowly started to wish he was in that profession.

"Lucas! It's so great to see you." Your husband opened his arms and pulled him into a "bro" hug. Lucas equally threw himself into the hug. Of course, he was an amazing greeter.

"How are you and your wife? I can see that you guys got down and dirty, huh?" Lucas smirked and nudged your husband. You were about six months pregnant with another child—a girl, as you two had found out. "If you two ever get into a rut, you know where to find me."

Your husband would rather die. This wasn't the first time Lucas Skylar offered his services, and your husband was starting to form an idea in his head that Lucas just wanted to fuck you. I mean, he stares at you way too often. His green eyes would linger on your form, even if he was standing by his wife. Maybe your husband should take up the offer and start boasting about how you two had this amazing sexual chemistry.

"Yeah. Thanks." Your husband laughed humorlessly and slapped Lucas's shoulder a bit too roughly, brushing past him. The pissed-off man went straight for the beers. He spent the rest of the night sulking in the corner, nursing his drink, and watching Henry run around the backyard with lit sparklers in his hands.

"Hey." The man cleared his throat and pushed his body off the fence, his expression softening as you came up to him. You handed him some food and he accepted it gratefully.

"Let me guess..."

"You don't even have to." Your husband groaned and his shoulders tensed up. He rolled his eyes and looked right back down at you. "That prick wants to meddle into our sex life again."

"Why don't you tell him that it's great and he needs to back off?" You shrugged nonchalantly and your husband sighed.

"I... I didn't want to embarrass you like that. Plus, I don't want to create any bad blood between us and them. We still have to live near them after all." Your husbands expression soured. He crushed the empty beer can before making a shot into the trash bag. He then took your hands into his and he pulled you into his embrace.

...

Your husband wanted to make it up to you for pouting all day, and he took the family out to a secluded and open area. He opened the trunk of the car, and he pulled out a box of fireworks. After he was done scolding Henry for not listening to his little safety seminar, he finally lit one and took a step back. The firework shot up into the sky and burst into red and blue colors.

He subtly reached for his phone and took a picture of you and Henry both looking at the sky. Your husband would talk to thousands of guys like Lucas Skylar if this was the end result. His heart warmed at the sight of his two, and soon to be three, favorite people holding hands.

[lollytea]

Therapy

(Wrote this in five hours without stopping. Nothing fancy. Maybe sloppy and unpolished. Bon appetite???)

"Leave it alone, Darius," Hunter snarled, slamming down his chisel and wooden shape on the desk as he whirled around to face him.

"I'm doing a load anyway!" Retorted Darius, one hand gripping the laundry basket against the hip and the other holding a graphic tee with the solar system printed on it. "You know it bothers me to walk in here and see dirty clothes tossed all over the floor."

"I can do my own laundry!"

Hunter internally winced at his tone the second it burst out of him.

He sounded like the cranky, whiny child that he had once been, always gnashing nonvenomous teeth in an effort to be taken seriously.

Being treated as a child was one of his most explosive buttons. And the worst part was that if pushed, he always acted up in a way that proved them right.

He reeled himself in, filling his lungs to steady his wrung nerves before turning back to his work.

There was a pause.

"I know you are," said Darius, his voice softer than it had been a moment prior. "But considering you've been letting it pile up for the last few days, I figure I'd lend you a hand."

"I don't need a hand." Hunter took furious chunks out of his hunk of wood. "I'm gonna do it myself. I'm just....busy. Right now."

Hunter was "busy" a lot lately, leaving things such as laundry overlooked, as he focused on one obsession after another. Darius referred to his bouts of productivity as "manic episodes."

It was preferable to the other half of the time when he went borderline unresponsive. Those days weren't fun.

He heard a fwump, which was presumably the sound of Darius dropping the shirt back on the floor.

"Ocellena called," He said.

Hunter's rough attempts at whittling went still. "That's...the therapist's name, right?"

"Yes. Your first session is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. 3pm."

"Right. Okay." Hunter intoned. "Thanks."

When he offered nothing else, Darius pushed a bit.

"I know you're scared."

Hunter wanted to hotly declare that he wasn't. But he felt like the blood of a lie would seep through his words. He said nothing.

"But you haven't been doing well, Hunter."

He wanted to argue that he was actually doing awesome. But Darius was a lot better at arguing than he was, so he'd probably just end up looking stupid.

"And I promise that this is a step in the right direction."

"I said I was sorry," Hunter found himself uttering in a quiet, scratchy voice.

There he was again, that whiny difficult child inside of him. And in that moment, he had touched Hunter's throat, letting out one final plea to be forgiven.

He didn't know what he expected to happen.

Maybe deep down, he desperately wanted Darius to soften up and say to him, "Oh Hunter, what am I thinking? I shouldn't send you to therapy. You don't deserve that."

Darius said nothing of the sort.

Instead, he sighed. "You have nothing to apologize for,"

Hunter felt fingerpads gently drill against his temple. "How do I get that through your stubborn skull?"

His insides writhed with empty dread.

So, apologizing was worthless in this case. Noted.

Before Darius left the room, Hunter's hair was affectionately ruffled. He slid his eyes shut and savoured the feeling.

Every day for the last few months, Hunter was handled with such gentleness by the people around him. It had become so frequent that he had come close to taking it for granted.

He once caught himself wondering if maybe one day he'd forget how it felt to be treated.....the other way.

Well, it certainly wouldn't be anytime soon.

Hunter was, quite possibly, one of Bonesborough's most insufferable roommates. The number of times Darius and Eberwolf were awoken at untitanly hours by the sound of him suffocating on his own serrated screams was embarrassing.

The memories still seared raw and achey, nowhere close to scabbing over.

He couldn't forget.

And now, he was about to experience it all over again. But for morally correct reasons this time.

Hunter exhaled, irritated by the way it rattled. He leaned forward and hung his head in his hands.

There was a persistent gnaw of guilt in his abdomen that he was doing his damndest to ignore.

He did not want to go to therapy. But he knew he'd be a coward to admit that.

This was supposed to be a noble thing, right? Atonement. He was supposed to be owning up to his mistakes like an adult. But, being faced with the imminent appointment made him feel more like a spineless child than ever.

"Do you know what therapy is?" Darius had asked a few weeks ago when the topic had first been broached.

His tone made made Hunter bristle. He felt patronized. Nothing made him shrink in humiliation more than being confronted with the fact that he still didn't know a lot of things.

"Of course I do!" He snapped, not bothering to mention that he had only learned of the concept a few days prior when Steve brought it up in conversation.

"It's so chill, dude," He had explained. "It really made me reflect on all the bad stuff I did as a scout, y'know? And now I feel like I can finally move past all that business without the ol' baggage wearin' me down."

"But what is it?" Hunter prodded. "What happens in therapy?"

"Well it's...y'know,"

Hunter frowned, impatient. He did not know.

"It's just you and them. In a room together. Alone. And...you talk. About stuff..." Steve shrugged airily. "It's just that, man."

The last words Steve uttered sounded like they were underwater because Hunter had mentally blipped out after hearing the words 'In a room,' 'Alone' and 'talk'

His blood had frozen over.

Steve's wrist was promptly squeezed by Hunter's jittery fingers. And when the older scout curiously met his eyes, he said solemnly, "Steve. You don't have to go there."

Steve smiled his pleasant, lopsided smile. "I want to, Hunter."

His voice was so soft, so sure of itself, that a heavy weight of devastation unloaded in Hunter's stomach.

"Sure, it's scary at first." Steve continued, giving Hunter's knuckles a comforting rap. "But over time....it helps."

And then, he said the words that Hunter selfishly wished he had never heard.

"I go to therapy, and I think I'm now a better guy than I used to be."

The rest of the interaction had fallen flat because Hunter suddenly felt very disconnected from his body, and Steve could not reel him back.

He remembered the curt businesslike knock on the door of his castle bedroom. He knew it as the sound of guards delivering a message. A slip of paper from the Emperor himself, requesting his presence in the throne room. To talk.

He remembered the soft-spoken echoey order once he entered.

"Close the door,"

Hunter would obey. And then, they were alone.

'In a room'

'Alone'

'Talk'

Hunter knew how to read between the lines.

He felt stupid. Naive. They had told him that the things Belos had done to him were wrong.

They promised him that it was wrong.

But it seemed as though Hunter had severely misunderstood.

The actions themselves were not wrong, but the reasoning.

Hunter did not deserve to be punished for failing to carry out the dirty work of a vile, depraved man.

Every punishment was undeserved by default, on the grounds of it being delivered by Belos.

But Hunter, idiot that he was, had foolishly believed that he was never going to be hurt like that again.

And if he was, he would at least take comfort in the fact that it was wrong.

The realizations were crashing over him in overpowering waves. He felt pathetic for not being able to take it.

I'd like to leave the Emperor's Coven and never set foot in that throne room again

I go to therapy, and I'm now a better guy than I used to be

There were people on the Isles who hurt you and....and it was right...?

You face the consequences of your actions, and you allow them to hurt you in a way that was ethical, and then....you were a better person.

Of course.

Of course that was how it worked.

How could he possibly believe it worked any differently?

It had struck him the moment Steve had said it, that nobody on the Isles deserved therapy more than Hunter.

The actions of the Golden Guard had been unspeakably cruel. All the times he had stood there, turning a blind eye, as his uncle tore open a living creature. All the carnage Hunter had allowed to happen directly in front of him.

It was borderline brainless of him to ever assume that he could escape consequences.

He desperately wanted to be a good person. He would start ripping his own innards out if it meant he could be deemed a good person.

He'd do anything. Really.

Which was why he had decided to steel his nerves and agree to therapy.

He would walk into that room and his legs would not shake.

He would tilt up his chin, close his eyes, and stomach the consequences he had earned.

And then, Titan willing, he'd be one step closer to being good.

And yet...he would rather be dismembered than admit it, but...

Hunter was scared. He was scared to receive his punishment.

After everything he had done to innocent lives, Hunter had the audacity to be scared of the punishment.

He disgusted himself.

_______________________________

With the Emperor's Coven dismantled, the vacant police precinct currently had a plethora of uses.

Most notably, it was a research facility that Darius frequented. The current project was working on a safe sigil extraction procedure. Hunter gave Darius a headache by asking for updates every damn day, despite the latter's insistence that it would probably take years to perfect.

But today, when Hunter visited the building, he and Darius did not turn right towards the lab, but they ventured down an entirely foreign hallway.

Hunter was doing everything in his power to keep his breathing steady.

"Would you like me to sit in the waiting room?" Asked Darius.

"No," Hunter answered.

They continued to cut through the hallway in silence.

"Yes," He corrected himself, so quiet he worried Darius wouldn't hear it.

He did hear it. "Alright. I think we'll pick up some fatty junk from the market for dinner tonight. I don't feel like cooking."

Darius hated fatty junk.

Despite the terror teething his insides, Hunter's lip still quirked upwards, feeling the tiniest surge of warmth.

He loved fatty junk. And Darius knew it.

His therapy session was not the end of the world. Life would continue afterwards, and there would still be little pleasures.

And he would be a better person than he was now.

Once Darius checked him in, Hunter tried not to squirm in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, debating whether he wanted to pick up one of the trashy magazines on the rack.

According to the front cover of one of the tabloids, a star grudgby player had an organ eating scandal. Typical tabloid stuff.

"Hunter?" Called a soft, docile voice that nonetheless made him glad he didn't eat breakfast because he wanted to puke.

Darius tapped his knee to signal him to stand up, which Hunter did. He managed to not cave in.

He crossed the waiting room and pushed the door open, pretending that he wasn't experiencing alarming flashes of hands and eyes and dripping green blades.

He was ready. He was going to be a good person.

"Hello, Hunter~" Singsonged a small pudgy woman, who was in the process of donning an ankle length cardigan. Occellena. "Do you find it chilly in here, by any chance?" She asked.

Taken aback by the question, Hunter dumbly shook his head.

"Guess it's just me, then. It's a curse. Cold blooded n' all."

She had a head of plump indigo tentacles, and her bright amber eyes were magnified by jar-like spectacles.

"Well, let me know if you catch a chill and I'll turn up the heater."

The heater in question was a crystal ball the size of an ottoman with a blazing flame contained in the glass.

Occellena swept across the room to where Hunter stood and put a hand to the door. "Let's just close this and we can get--"

As far as he was aware, he did not do anything. But something made her take pause, and when she glanced his way, he felt himself jot.

"Or would you prefer to keep it open?"

The question initially escaped his comprehension. It seemed out of the realm of his own reality.

Hunter's throat tightened. And when he tried to speak, he failed.

He nodded again.

"Okay!" She said cheerily, like this was the best thing she had heard all day.

Out of the thousands of tangles in Hunter's stomach, one of them spread loose.

It was faint, but he distinctly felt the way that tangle relaxed itself.

"So, we'll leave the door open for now," said Occellena. "And if you decide at any point that you don't want that anymore, you can just pop right up and give it a swing shut."

Defenses still scaling high, Hunter had no idea what to make of this.

"Anyway," She made to walk towards her own chair, politely beckoning him to follow with one of her tentacles. "Shall we sit? I recently got a new couch. I'd really like some feedback on how comfy it is."

_______________________________

Darius would never say it, but his heart was hammering like a jackalope with worry for that ridiculous kid. His legs kept crossing and uncrossing in the waiting room chairs that seemed specifically designed to be uncomfortable.

Darius had bumped into Occellena on a few occasions in the upstairs kitchen. He had spiked his apple blood while she grounded oyster shells into her tea. He had never been one for chit-chat, but she had been nothing but bubbly with him, in spite of his less than enthusiastic responses.

He couldn't determine her skills as a therapist from just a few conversations, but the extensive research he had done to find a qualified candidate had promised that she was highly competent

But was she 'Golden Guard as a client' competent?

Was anyone?

If all else failed, she was sweet. Hunter loved sweet people.

He needed this to go well. If Hunter had a bad therapy experience, it would both stunt his recovery progress and leave him far less willing to try again for the foreseeable future.

Darius resisted the urge to stand up and pace the room, knowing his footsteps would probably disturb Hunter's session.

He noticed that the door remained slightly ajar, which he found peculiar.

Were they not supposed to keep the doors closed? Client confidentiality and all that mumbo jumbo?

Granted, he could not make out the words being said. The pitch of two voices, definitely, but it was all muffled nothingness.

His nerves were barbed during those first few minutes, in which Occellena carried on speaking for several seconds at a time, while Hunter only offered singular sentences as a response.

It was fine, he convinced himself. They were just warming up.

The moments passed, and the session seemed to take a turn in a positive direction.

The seconds in which the slightly lower pitched voice stretched a little bit longer every time he spoke. Louder too.

At some point, he seemed to take off babbling, presumably having one of those obsession buttons pushed.

Darius could only imagine that Occellena had asked about one of Hunter's many passions. That would certainly work wonders.

He had such terrible control of his own volume when he got too eager, so this was a promising sign.

After that, the conversation took a subdued dip, the silences hanging for longer.

And then, he heard footsteps. He straightened his posture, startled by the session seemingly wrapping up so soon.

But no. It was the door clicking shut.

From then on, total silence. Thirty minutes of just Darius, his trashy tales of organ eating athletes, and the vacant uncertainty of how Hunter's first therapy session was going.

And then it was over.

When Darius saw Hunter emerge from the room with Occellena's hand on his shoulder, his eyes were strikingly rimmed with red.

"So I'll see you next week. Don't worry yourself with telling Jewel, I'll have her put it down in the system. Be sure to take it easy for the rest of the evening, alright?"

Though he looked like every ounce of energy had been sapped out of him, Hunter still pulled up a smile for her, and Darius recognized sincere warmth on that face when he saw it.

"I will. Thanks, Occellena,"

And when he approached Darius, he looked relieved, ashamed, and dazed all at once.

"Hey," He greeted, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Hey," Darius responded, softly incredulous. "Shall we go ruin our skin with your accursed bag of grease now?"

His reddened eyes glinted with light boyish amusement. He nodded.

Hunter did not say much during their quest through the Bonesborough marketplace, and Darius vaguely wondered if he should be concerned.

As much as he complained about the boy being an incurable chatterbox, his silence unnerved him.

Hopefully, the session had used up too much of his blabbering muscles.

It wasn't until they were home and seated on opposite ends of the dining room table that Darius understood.

One of his most strictly enforced household rules was that dinner must be served on an actual plate. No takeout containers allowed on his property.

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the atrocity known as deep-fried eyeballs that were making a greasy mess out of his ornate lilac dishes.

Hunter was rolling the unsavoury little orbs around with his fork.

He seemed relaxed, if distracted, so Darius decided to pop the question, only to fill the silence, if anything.

"Do you want to tell me how it went today? With Occellena?"

Hunter's fork went still, but his eyes never dared to draw away from the fatty dinner in front of him.

When he opened his mouth, his bottom lip wobbled, searching for a voice that he did not seem to possess right now.

"It's alright," said Darius. "What happens in therapy stays in therapy. Isn't that what they say?"

Hunter did not respond to that, not even with a glance or a nod or anything of the sort.

He remained hung up on the struggle of getting his initial words out. The bump of his throat bobbed.

Finally, with a small, feeble voice that cracked around the edges, Hunter said, "I didn't think she was gonna be nice to me..."

The silence that fell was born of complete and utter bewilderment. Darius was so flabbergasted by the statement that he spoke before he fully thought it over.

"Well, that is to be expected from therapy," A touch of laughter rose and fell between the words. "I mean, surely you didn't think she would--?"

Darius cut himself off, his smile dropping as he noticed the visible tremor of Hunter's mouth, which he had forced into a thin line.

"Hunter?"

The boy lifted his head, bright brown eyes already pooling with an open, lost, childlike anguish. Then he blinked and it spilled to his cheekbones. He looked to Darius searchingly, like he wanted to ask something, but he could not utter a sound more.

"Hunter...? What did you think was going to happen...?"

[livwritesstuff]

Question- do Steve and Eddie (mostly Eddie) only do the fun, lighthearted pranks? Does Eddie ever try a “meaner” prank (i.e., “I hit your car with mine,” *waking from a dead sleep* “get up my boyfriend is coming,” ‘not saying I love you before leaving,’ etc.)? How does Steve (yes, he’s a therapist, but there’s still a trauma response because of what he went through) react to it?

I 100% think Eddie pulled some shit earlier in their relationship (like, pre-kids era) that he learned real quick not to repeat for the sake of his relationship with Steve (which he really does value, no matter how many of his behaviors might contradict that).

Like, maybe he once answered a phone call, and when Steve asked who it was (it was Robin), he said, “Oh, no one. Just my other boyfriend.”

(Robin just said, “Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie,” and hung up).

Steve did not appreciate that one at all, obviously.

I also feel like Eddie might have gotten somewhat lax about Hazel’s adoption (because it was their third go of it at that point and they already had her older sisters and they had the same judge as the last two, which made it basically a shoe-in in Eddie’s eyes, so he didn’t really feel like he needed to be all that checked-in), and maybe Will is learning how to use Photoshop for editing at the time, so Eddie sends him a picture of Hazel being tossed up into the air by Eddie and asks him to edit it to look like she’s way higher up than she actually is because, to him, that’s funny, and he thought Steve might find it funny too.

He turned out to be very incorrect. Steve was incredibly upset, and they ended up having a very long argument about it (because, in Steve’s opinion, that photo in the wrong hands meant game over for their adoption case, and he would never forgive Eddie if he did something to screw up the adoption).

As Eddie gets older, he finds the mean pranks less and less funny.

I feel like the only people who really find those meaner pranks funny are young people – kids and very young adults, so Hazel sees that leave without saying I love you trend on TikTok and doesn’t see any issue with it at all, but when she tries to convince Eddie to try it on Steve, he outright refuses.

“Oh c’mon,” Hazel goads, “I bet it’d be funny.”

“Nope,” Eddie replies, because he knows for a fact how that kind of thing cuts deeper for Steve than their kids realize, “Not doing it, Haze. Give it up already.”

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | J. Jungkook (2)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: TBD

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

the mirrors of your practice room were foggy, the heat radiating off of your whole groups bodies as you worked your hardest to perfect all the choreographies to your newest album. you worked especially hard since last week, you took a long time to really think about what happened.

“we both know you’re just as messy,” Jungkook spat at you, you bit back your tears and fought your conscience screaming at you to walk away. this isn’t something you would just walk away from, not with your boosting ego.

“this is why we won’t work out, Jungkook, you’re acting like a bitch. fix yourself, i’ll fix me. i thought you were doing better, but it seems like you’re still the dick you were during all our fucking arguments,” you grabbed your belongings and starting walking away from his frozen figure, his words hitting him like a brick in the face. you came out here with him hoping you could talk to him, make him remember the reason why you weren’t communicating things or in contact, but he just proved to you why you shouldn’t have came.

Jungkook sat back down, right where you sat, thinking over things. anytime he would see you, he felt this rage build up inside of him. the rage coming from nowhere, yet appearing whenever your pretty face shows up in his sight. he hates it. he swore to control his anger, the way he acted when things didn’t go his way, but apparently anger management isn’t enough for him.

it’s not that he hates you, he adores you, he loves you. but sometimes, he feels like he can’t stand you. you act like you have everything in your life sorted out, when you don’t, not without him. it might be toxic of him to think of you that way, but it’s true. you know it’s true, deep inside and past your wall that you’ve built up for no one to see behind your cute personality set for the stage. only he knows the real you, at least he thinks, and he knows you have a shit ton of problems just like him.

Jungkook clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white at the thought of how he spoke to you. you don’t deserve that, but at the same time, he rightfully believes you need someone to put you in your place sometimes. but at the same time, you wish someone would knock some sense into Jungkook and make him grow up, even if he grew up way to fast, he still is childish as ever when it comes to talking about things.

you snapped out of your state of thought as one of your members patted your back, telling you to drink up some water before starting again. you wiped your face with a towel before gulping down half of your bottle, tossing it on the floor, and starting up again. thank god that you have therapy tomorrow, you thought as you stand in position once again, waiting for the music to start up.

“he said that to you?” your therapist questioned, jotting down notes quickly so you can speak more about how you felt during that moment. you felt angry, sad, all of the above. out of all people you thought would understand, Jungkook was the one you felt would. yet, he opens his mouth and speaks mean words towards you like he always did when he was struggling, never able to control what he says. but who were you to talk, you did the same things, but you were for sure better at controlling it.

“i thought we were ready to talk about why we actually broke up, i thought i was to say at the least, he for sure wasn’t,” you sighed, picking at your skin around your fresh pedicured nails out of habit. it breaks your heart, seeing him that way, he only acts like that when he’s in a deep place. you can visualize him going home, and immediately changing into work out clothes, beating on his punching back until the chain gives out, his knuckles bleeding with open wounds.

but then again, who’s ever ready to talk about a long relationship ending? at the time, walking to the park in the freezing cold, you felt ready. you walked high and proud as you were side by side with the man whose heart you constantly break. maybe he did have the right to act that way, but it still hurts coming from him. yeah, you had to figure out your shit, but so did he, so him acting like that felt hypocritical.

“darling, no one is ever ready to talk about why relationships end the way they end,” she starts again, it’s was like she was reading your mind as you sat there quietly in thought, “maybe you should of waited, but know you know for sure that now isn’t the right time to get back together, no matter how much you both want and crave it,”

“we’re like the same person, at least i like to think so. i just want him to understand why i do what i do,” it makes your head hurt thinking about reasons why he couldn’t try to understand you at the least, it was the least he could do along with loving you. he was always so unreasonable with mental health.

“just give him some time to think about what he said and how he can fix things over time, time heals everything,” bullshit.

you felt like a mess, sitting in front of the vanity mirror as you get your hair fixed by your stylist, her sweet smile as your eyes reached hers in the mirror comforted you in the slightest, you just had to get through tonight and then you’ll be able to be alone in your dorm room, in the comfort of your own bed.

“feeling anxious?” your leader lets her head fall on your shoulder, smiling at the glitter in your inner corners and poking your cheek in awe, “you’ll be okay, at least you’re pretty and have curly hair,” her finger twirls the curl resting in the small ponytail in your hair, letting it boing back to place.

once your stylist was done, she spun your chair to face your leader, who bent down to fix the curls in your face, cupping your cheeks once she was done and smiling down at you, “i just wish to be home right now,” you sigh, practically melting into her hold and she squishes your cheeks in response. you wanted to cry, the amount of promotions you had this week drained every last bit of emotion out of you.

“just put a smile on that frowny face of yours, get out there and look as cute as you always do during fansigning, we’re gonna have a party tonight!” you groan in response, she lets go of your face to cross her arms across her chest, noticing your negative response to the idea of partying, “what’s wrong with getting wasted after all these promotions? it’s not like anyone else will be there,”

that was a lie, you sat in a corner of your shared house with group after group showing up and partying, while you just wanted to be in your bed. maybe if you get drunk enough, you can dance with a random and have some fun tonight, you thought while staring at your other members already claiming other males to dance with. the lights flashing making your head hurt, as you stood up to get another glass of your drink.

there was yelling going on around you, but you chose to ignore it and downed half of your cup before heading towards your room, planning on locking your door and drowning all the noise of the party out with music. but your heart and feet stopped when hollers from the front door caught your attention. the person who took feet away from you, you wished to disappear out of his sight. no, it wasn’t Jungkook, right about now you wished it was instead of the monster who stood close in front of you, but far away at the same time

Choi Jaehyun, also known as the dick that cheated on you, also known as the abusive alcoholic you had dated, also known as the reason for the way you were now. one little glance towards his way made you gag, in shock and disbelief that he would dare to even show up here. the first thing he did was grab a beer, like he always did at his house after hitting you like you were the cause of all his problems.

it makes you ache, your heart especially knowing you loved his shit ass self at one point, thinking that he would change if you just covered up all the marks he would leave on you. after that relationship was over, your leader swore at you to never get back into another relationship until you got over him. you were over him, to say the least, but not over the way he made you feel. he made you feel worthless, ungrateful, unworthy, like a weakling.

“you think you deserve to be out there in the spotlight, like the bitch you are?” he spat in your face, his hands close to your face making you feel like something was coming towards you.

“baby, please just sit down and listen to me-” another smack hit your cheek, the tingling burned and made you call out in a cry, “jaehyun! please, stop and just have a drink-” you gasped out, the tears burned your eyes but slightly cooled the heat of your cheek.

“drink some more, is that what you fucking what? you want me more drunk so you can run away again?” he grabs your cheek hard, pulling it as he backed you against the cold of the refrigerator. you tried to focus on the loud humming coming from the damn thing, instead of the burning sensation of his hand pinching at the same place he just whacked you, “you’ll never be able to get away from me, not again, baby,”

the tears flowed from your cheeks, his body now facing you as your memory fades away to a new one standing infront of you currently. the look of his face, like he didn’t expect you to be at your own groups party, what a fucking idiot. before he could walk towards you, you grabbed your drink and stormed past him, ignoring the ringing affect his call of your name had to your ears. you told yourself, that where ever he was, you weren’t going to be, never, ever again.

you left the house in nothing but a thin jacket, you walked until your legs gave up on you. once you sat down, not knowing where you were or where your legs were walking you to, you looked up at the dark sky. the lights of the stars twinkling above you, giving you some comfort of the unbearable memories you had. you wished you could just deleted everything, every moment you had that with sick man. but it stays with you, like a parasite eating away at your skin.

you sniffled as you calmed down, whipped out your phone to dial someone, anyone to come get you and to be in the comfort of someone’s arms. you scrolled and scrolled, hoping to see someone’s name that warmed your heart at the sight of it. your eyes scoped around your contacts, hoping for anyone’s name to pop up.

Park Jimin. you quickly dialed his number, knowing he would pick up in a heart beat, like he always did for you.

“are you sure you’ll be okay on the couch? my bed is just as comfortable, even more at that,” he spoke as softly as you remembered, he tucked you into the couch and making sure you were comfortable enough to sleep away your puffy eyes.

“i’ll be okay out here, Jimin, i promise,” Jimin was the only other member, besides Hoseok, who knew about you and Jungkook. he allowed you to come over time to time when ever you and Jungkook would have problems, problems that were always better than what Jaehyun ever put you through. you believe that why you always went back to him, back to the comfort of his aura because he truly loved you. he loved every bit of you, but he couldn’t handle every bit of you.

Jungkook would never, you thought as you rolled over, facing the back of the couch as Jimin accepted the fact you chose the couch over his bed and went upstairs to get some sleep for himself. Jungkook had his angry issues, but he would never show abusive tendencies towards you, no matter how mad he was. he never raised a hand towards your way, he never laid a finger on you. it took you awhile to trust him, but that trust never once left even after you left him multiple times. but, to never bring up the memories that made you feel like a burden, you never once mentioned your past relationship, no matter how many times Jungkook would beg to talk about your exes.

“you should start writing in your journal again, _____” Jimin spoke over his shoulder, his hands working on making your eggs the way you loved them, “i know that helped you at times like this, even if i don’t know what actually happened for you to end up 10 minutes away from my place,”

“it’s better not to talk about it, for my sake,” he nodded in agreement, letting you know he won’t budge any information out of you since he knows the way you looked when he picked you up from the random street you sat at. you always wanted to tell him about your past, what changed you into the mess you are now and why you can’t seem to stay stable at any current time of the year. just because it happened years ago, doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you to talk about it, even if you trusted someone with your life, “you know what? that might be a good idea,” you spoke up after the minute of slience between you both.

you’ll write about everything bothering you, maybe you’ll be able to pick at the pieces broken inside of you to figure out how to handle all of your problems with Jungkook, but mainly yourself. you always need to put yourself first, your therapist would tell you, no matter how badly the other person is struggling, and you stood by that.

you never wanted to leave Jungkook, you never wanted him to feel like he wasn’t good enough for you love. you wanted him to feel like he was on the top of the world with you, to make him feel important and loved the way he should. what he doesn’t know, is that he was the reason you wanted to get better. he always told you, that you deserved everything heading towards you that was good. if the good was getting better and becoming healthy, hell yeah, you deserved that shit like it was a grammy.

so once you got back to the dorms, letting all your members and your worried leader know that you were at a good friends house after the party, you headed to your room with a fresh new notebook, ready to jot down all your feelings and thoughts that you let eat you alive everyday.

to my past, fuck you, sincerely. you deserve nothing, you don’t deserve to take over my life. i will get rid of you, i will get better, i deserve to be happy, i deserve to become a butterfly instead of moth. moths are pretty, but trust, i will be a beautiful monarch.

cheesy, you know that, but it’s true. so true that you continue to write until your hand cramps around your pen. you will get better, it just takes time, but time definitely does not heal everything.

a/n: i low-key hate writing angst, but here we are! this is a reminder that you are not alone if you’ve ever went through abuse or trauma with abuse, you will always have people out there for you and you have help too. there are hotlines on top of hotlines, please don’t be afraid to speak up about it, no matter what. i love you all, and never feel like you can’t reach out to talk to me, dm me about anything! you are all worthy and beautiful and deserve the best🩷. here are some hotlines: 1, 2, 3

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @joonsproperty @jk97bam @dna-black-and-blue

COMMENT TO BE ON TAGLIST!

[munsonluhvr]

THE DEAL

pairing: drug dealer!eddie munson x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of drugs/dealing, cussing

author's note (!): I don't know if it should be a nsfw part 2 or sfw? Let me know what you guys would want, please!!!!

installments: part 1 | part 2

You cross your arms across your chest while you sit on the picnic bench. Out in the distance, you see the baseball team making their way onto the field that you sit behind, in the wooded shade. School has just been released and you’re waiting for your weekly appointment. 

You huff, bending over to conserve some of your body heat; the weather had suddenly dipped into a solid chill, which is emphasized by the gusts of wind that whip around. “Why does he always have to be late?” you mutter to yourself, annoyed by having to wait. 

Off to your left you hear the cracking of sticks, and you see the figure of a person walking your way. It was Eddie Munson, the person you were waiting for. 

You stand up, arms still crossed. “Jesus Christ, Eddie. You sure know how to make a girl wait.” The wind blows, tossing your hair around you. Your fingertips dig into your arms as a chill drives through you. 

Eddie coos, shaking his head. “Sorry, y/n. Hellfire Club stuff.” Eddie steps over the roots of trees that are pronounced on the ground, and he makes his way towards you. His eyes grazes over your body and you take notice. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” 

“What was I supposed to do? Leave? You’re the one with the lunchbox full of drugs.” You say sitting back on the picnic bench, tucking your legs in to face the other side. Eddie comes around the picnic benches other side and sits down, placing his black, metal lunchbox on the tabletop with a clank. 

Eddie laughs, unlatching the lunchbox. “That’s right, I know you love what I have.” 

You laugh sarcastically, ignoring his slight sexual reference. “I only like your drugs, let’s not get things twisted.” 

Eddie pauses, putting a hand to his heart. “I’m so deeply hurt, y/n. I thought we were heading places.” 

“The only place I’m headed is home with some weed, now show me what you have today.” You say, lifting up to peek inside his lunchbox. You hadn’t smoked in several days, having run out of your stash earlier than anticipated. You were stressed with school, and you just needed to relax. Today was the only day Eddie could meet you to do your weekly exchange. 

“Fine, fine,” Eddie says, plucking a few small, plastic bags from the container. “How much do you want?” 

“An ounce, maybe two?” You say, watching Eddie’s ring-covered fingers fiddle with the bags. 

Eddie looks at you, frowning. “That’s more then you usually get.” 

“Yeah, well I have more stress then I usually have right now.” You say, propping your elbow up on the tabletop. Eddie combines one bag of weed into another, estimating that there was close to two ounces in the small, clear bag. 

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie says, looking at you curiously. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Did you go from drug dealer to therapist? Not a chance. How much?” 

Eddie eyes the bag, lifting it up into yours’s and his eyesight. “How about thirty-five, I added a little discount for all your stress you’re going through.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” you say, leaning forward to slide your hand into your pants pocket. “Some discount, by the way. You took off, like, three dollars.” You pull out the money Eddie requests, splaying out the bills in front of him. 

“I’ll raise it back to nearly forty if you want since my discount means nothing to you. I also gave it to you because you happen to be my favorite customer.” Eddie says, putting his elbow on the tabletop and resting his chin into his palm. 

You roll your eyes again, moving the paper bills towards Eddie. “Oh, I’m sure. I count down the days until I see you again.” You say, taking the plastic bag from Eddie. “Isn’t Chrissy Cunningham one of your clients now? You’ve always liked her.” 

Eddie closes his metal lunch box, locking it swiftly. “Oh, y/n. Chrissy Cunningham has nothing on you.” 

You scoff, tucking the plastic bag into your jacket pocket. You swing your legs over the bench seat, moving to stand up. “Goodbye, Eddie,” you say, tossing a glance at Eddie. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Eddie says, leaping up from his seat to follow you. “I actually had something to ask you.” Eddie slings an arm over your shoulder, bringing your side into him. 

You look over at Eddie, slightly amused by his confidence to get physically close to you. “And what is that, Munson?” You walk side-by-side out of the woods, Eddie’s arm still around your shoulders, and you catch his scent which smells lightly of cologne and cigarette smoke. Your eyes flutter at the scent. 

“I was thinking,” Eddie says with a pause. You hum for him to continue. “-That we should do our little weekly deal at my house next time. Perhaps you could stay longer afterwards, and we could hangout or something.” 

You feel a smirk coming across your mouth. You and Eddie had been somewhat friendly, always taking pleasure in sarcastic, playful banter but by no means were you friends. You had friends in common and had been in the same classes at some points. When you picked up smoking, you were referred to Eddie by your friends and you began to frequently meet Eddie to buy from him. Seldom did you dive deep into conversation with Eddie, you only delved into surface level conversations, the common simple pleasantries. Only recently did Eddie begin to linger a little longer, silently requesting for you to stay in his presence a little longer and share little pieces of information about yourself. 

“Or something?” you say with a laugh. “Are you trying to fuck me, Munson?” 

Eddie lets go of your shoulders, his eyes growing wide and his cheeks growing pink. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie catches himself becoming embarrassingly flustered and tries to regain his composure. “Unless that’s what you want.” 

You playfully shove Eddie with another laugh. “You wish, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs, coming back to stand next to you. “No, really, I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other outside of the few minutes we meet a week. If you’re interested.” 

You hum again, folding the thought over in your head. Eddie seemed like a nice enough person. He’s edgy and interesting, always seeming to have a flock of freshmen that admire him. Sure, there’s rumors about him and what his club get up to but aren’t there rumors about everyone? You decide to see what Eddie Munson is all about. “Sure,” you say. “Next week, same day and time?”

Eddie nods, glancing at you with a smile on his face. “Yeah, I can drive you over to my house if you want.” 

You nod, glancing over at him too. You catch his eyes and for the first time you really look into them; they’re pretty and brown. “Great. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”