#either that or the drink would make you see a therapist

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

I’M HERE TO HELP

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary - Your emotional instabilities and impulsive behaviours slowly kills all of your relationships. So you check yourself in for therapy with a doctor who uses unorthodox methods to fix you.

Warnings - BPD, mental illnesses, emotional and physical insecurities, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, dubcon, dark, angst, p in v, oral both receiving, m! masterbation, daddy issues, toxic relationships, illegal methods, toxic reader.

Word count - A WHOPPING 8.9K

Notes - Heavily inspired by my own personal struggles with BPD. Very long, completely packed with angst and dark themes. A slight AU were Jonathan is your average therapist and not at Arkham. I don't really write longer pics so I'd really appreciative your thoughts. No fear toxin was used in the making.

Borderline Personality Disorder. 

There were no medications to cure you of this mental illness. The only treatments were exercises, meditation and talk therapy. 

Everyday, you experienced a series of insecurities, issues and habits that all stemmed from your childhood. A traumatic relationship with your father had left you to grow up to be yanked between emotionally codependent and unavailable. Your life was full of mood swings and feeling disconnected from who you were. All of your relationships were either short term or on and off. One minute you’d love them and the next you’d despise them. You had no control on how you felt about others. Their images were constantly changing like a series of short ads on the television. 

Everyone was black or white, they were either good or bad for your existence. It left your social interactions to be quite unstable and chaotic. Because you liked to push people away frequently to see how badly they cared for you. It was based on your skepticality and distrust in their words. But could you blame them for leaving with how often you’d self-sabotage your happiness? 

This whirlpool of intense emotions, thoughts and behaviors left you lost in your own mind. One day, you wished you never woke up and the next you'd be high on life. There was no stability in your life, you lived on impulses which you would quickly regret and those actions would replay in your mind for hours. 

You liked to binge drink, take drugs and partake in reckless sex. The thrill of living on the edge was the only feeling you wanted to feel for years. But when you accidentally formed a relationship with a mutual friend named Peter, you got too attached. It freaked you out and well, you acted impulsively and cheated on him. It painted your bad persona clearly to your friends. You were in desperate need of help. 

Your therapist, Doctor Jonathan Crane, was here to help. 

Sensitive, timid, hesitant. Those were your clear characteristics Doctor Crane saw within the first few minutes of meeting you, he jotted them in his notepad as soon as he could. Your initial shyness was cute, you were cute. Even underneath the oversized hoodie you chose to wear that day, which you immediately regretted when you saw him. 

Doctor Crane preferred the mind over the body. Human’s physicality has barriers. Its capability could only be reached so far. However, the mind could be explored to great depths. Every dot of matter in the brain could create a chain reaction in your physical actions. The mind truly ruled over the body. 

Your story was interesting to him, fascinating even. It was gripping for Doctor Crane to find out what made you who you were. How much of an impact your childhood had altered you, broken you. A tiny part of him felt sympathy for you and a large part felt empathy. You were a pretty face begging to be discovered, to be fixed. But he wasn’t even sure yet if he wanted to fix you, he liked the way you were torn. 

He wrote your list of fears on a separate page. 

Abandonment

Commitment

Vulnerability

Judgment

Rejection

Emotional Intimacy

You were no virgin, but emotional intimacy frightened you immensely. The idea of another knowing you completely felt too overwhelming. You had many promising suitors, but your standards seemed to be as high as a tower. So you’d partake in casual sex and sabotage any chance you had at finding true love. Contradictory, it left you feeling empty and alone. But the thought of being held by another, letting your emotions take toll over your body made you feel sick in your stomach. 

The emptiness inside of you begged you to do something, so you bit the bullet and decided to get help. Here you were now, sitting across from your therapist, awkwardly looking at the ground as his eyes lingered over your body. 

Today, you wore a plaid beige skirt that rested just above the knee, which didn’t fail to perfectly hug your soft thighs. The black blouse you wore was perfectly in between modest and sexy. Not to mention your polished mary jane shoes accompanied with the white socks made you look like a fucking naughty school girl begging to be bent over. 

At least, these were all a part of Doctor Crane’s observations. 

Today’s session was different however, he picked up on your behavior immediately when you kept your head low as he warmly welcomed you inside. Your honeyed voice lacked desire, you looked exhausted, broken perhaps?  

“How are you feeling today? You look quite… Taciturn…” Doctor Crane pointed out as he looked your appearance up and down. He leant back in his seat and straightened his shirt. His slender index finger pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

A weak smile spread across your lips momentarily, he wanted to know how you were. No, stop thinking that way… Your mood was like a sheet strung up to a clothesline in the wind. Constantly switching up on you, blinding you on what was right and wrong. 

You had been seeing Doctor Crane for months now. A friend of a friend recommended him and his bio did not fail to describe his level of expertise. In fact you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to get a slot in with him. The therapy started off well, great even. It was worth the pot of anxiety that stewed in your stomach before you built up the courage to get out of your car. 

However, he was wickedly gorgeous. It was like he was made with poison and the more you admired his charm the more it destroyed you emotionally and mentally. Doctors were only meant to be attractive in soap operas or pornos. Real therapists were supposed to be old and borderline creepy. However, Doctor Crane almost looked too young to have his doctorate and a record of accolades that hung from his wall. His beauty was immensely intimidating, his high levels of confidence was a reflection of how little you had in yourself. 

Your psychiatrist certainly had a way with words. It was almost as if he knew you better than you did. The zone was free from any spec of judgment and you fell completely open to him over a short few sessions. Before every session, you found yourself pairing the best outfit you could to try to catch his attention. Apply your makeup as seductively yet modestly as you could. You trusted him completely without realizing. That’s when he knew the real treatment could begin. 

-

The exercises came into play by your sixth session together. That session, your therapist presented a new floor length mirror he had brought. It was odd, but you admired the piece nevertheless. When your session was half way through, he instructed you to stand.  

“Now, I believe you’re ready for some physical exercises” he smiled innocently to you. 

It was simple, stand in the mirror and look at yourself. At first, it was funny, but quickly the discomfort grew as the silence sank in the room. Then you were staring at yourself with pure disgust. Your arms gradually wrapped around your waist as you blinked more frequently, your body swayed gently. 

“What do you see?” He asked eventually, still sitting on his seat, notepad and pen in hand. 

“Myself” you mumbled as you tugged your skirt down as much as you could. 

“Could you be a bit more descriptive?” He cocked an eyebrow towards you, a drip of humor on his tongue.

Shortly after, you came clean on what was on your mind. “I look filthy. It’s disgusting” you admitted shamefully, looking down to the floor. 

“And why do you feel disgusted?” your therapist inquired as he wrote down his observations. 

“Because, look at me… I’m hideous” you answered, your cheeks feeling flustered. 

You weren’t asking for compliments, your honesty was raw emotions. Sometimes you’d look at yourself and see a complete stranger and you’d wonder how people could ever talk to you, let alone want you. You blinked back your tears and stood on wobbly feet. His words were falling deaf on your ears again, you were too focused on your thoughts. He sighed and placed his notepad down on the table. 

“Look at how insecure you still are…” Doctor Crane cooed in a slightly demeaning way as he stood up from his seat and gradually stood behind you. 

There was silence for a long time. The both of you looked at each other through the mirror, almost as if you were both daring each other to make the next move. 

“Do you see someone lovable?” He asked, his face slowly inching closer to your ear. 

“No” you replied, emotionless. 

“Why not?” He furrowed his eyebrows, his body almost pressing up against yours. 

“Because I don’t deserve it” you answered. 

You felt dull again, the emptiness had ripped a hole in your body yet again. Doctor Crane analyzed your stern, lifeless expression. It could happen so easily, your switch up. It was enthralling with how many triggers you had, you were a tennis ball being whacked from one emotion to the other. 

“You’re too harsh on yourself… Far too harsh” your therapist tutted his light scold at you. One of his hands rests on your shoulder to comfort you. 

“What do you see?” You asked him, raising your chin up in an act of hope. 

“Don’t look away from the mirror” was his answer in an emotionless yet stern tone. 

A swift look of confusion planted on your expression. But regardless you obeyed his simple order and remained silent as you stared at him through the mirror. 

His hand slipped from your shoulder to across your chest in an anticipating speed, his pressed fingers spread apart at the same pace. Even though his hand was running across your upper torso, your heart was thudding in your chest so powerfully that he could feel it pump that far away. His hand stopped on your opposing shoulder and gently tugged you back to his chest. 

“What are you doing?” You croaked out, your throat dry and tight as you looked at the two of you. It was almost as if you were in a headlock, but it was gentle.  

“An exercise. I’m helping you get comfortable with yourself” he answered confidently, his cold face pressed against your heated one. 

Your body was as stiff as a board. He sighed to himself when his free hand ran down your body. 

“Relax… For once, let go of the thoughts and focus on your physicality” he ordered softly, almost sounding like a beg instead. His tone was soothing, almost hypnotic. 

So your mind obeyed him immediately. You body fell back into his like your bones had snapped into jelly, he was practically a crutch at this point, you’d fall to the ground if he let go of you. His hands gently caressed your hip, it felt soothing, comforting, secure. 

“Wanna know what I see?” He murmured. 

You murmured back and nodded your head. There was this mixture of fear and thrill painted across your expression. Both of you could see how badly you wanted to know, but how frightening the process was. Yet it was clear with how much it aroused you by how your cheeks darkened. 

“I see a pretty girl, who needs to be looked after. Taken care of. Someone who only wants to be held by another” he answered honestly. 

Your eyes swelled up with tears at his simplicity. When your breathing got rougher as the thoughts swarmed in your mind like a thunderstorm he whispered soothing tones by your ear. Both of you were still staring into the mirror. 

“Look at how smooth your skin is. Your face is faultless. And these curves… They are so sexy, is that an improper word to use?” Jonathan grinned at you, a slight chuckle at his deviant comment, both hands now planted on your hips.

His crotch was pressed against your rear, but he wasn’t erect. Honestly, you weren’t sure if it was reassuring or if it made you more insecure. His lips rested against your ear as you steadied your breathing. 

“Why are you saying this?” You gasped lightly. 

“I told you, it’s an exercise” he answered with a shrug of the shoulders. 

-

That was the day you learnt that Doctor Jonathan Crane was far from your traditional psychiatrist. He tested the modern norms and values of therapy. He used distinctive methods to assist with your progression. Methods that were best kept behind closed doors for both of your reputations. At first you were reluctant to a lot of them, stiff in the bones at the ideas of it. But he persuaded you otherwise, all you had to do was trust him, because it was for your benefit. 

So, you turned your head to the uneasiness of his treatment and trusted him. At the end of every session, you’d end up in a physical or emotional exercise. Some exercises were far more concerning than others. 

Which now, had led you to be so whipped by him, so mesmerized by. A common thread in people with BPD was for them to have a person that they depend on emotionally, for comfort and validation. They called it a favorite person. 

You grew very attached to your psychiatrist who eagerly wanted to help you and you rued at it every night. It wasn’t the type of love you craved it to be, it was obsessive. The both of you knew it. You’d think about him constantly, smile as you recall your past encounters together. Then you’d find yourself crying over the fact that you could never have him. You didn’t love him, you loved the person your mind had created him to be, yet you did love him. Your mind felt like a thunderstorm of confusion with him. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t let go of him.

You liked the routine you had with him. The security you felt when his arms were around your body eased all of your anxieties. Even though it was always only momentarily. You knew what he asked of you wasn’t right, especially when you’d count the times that he had purposely made you cry, but you did it anyway. Because he wanted you, even though it was only for the moment. 

Doctor Crane clicked his fingers to snap you back to reality. You blinked heavily and looked up to him. It was intimidating with how stern his expression was right now. You already knew that he was trying to piece you together like a puzzle. 

“Yeah, I’m alright” you replied to your psychiatrist. Typical for your response to be vague, you sounded tired, he jotted that down.  

But your smile wasn’t real. It was obvious by the way you were fiddling with the end of your skirt, something was irritating you. He noticed this habit from your first session together.

Doctor Crane was not stupid, but apparently you were dumb enough to think he was. The game was already in motion and you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to cut him off. Being sick was off the table, you would have canceled if you were, actually, you probably wouldn’t have given your condition. 

Regardless, he knew what moves were up your sleeves. The same cards you played on everyone. You wanted him to see you this way. Another desperate cry out for attention, for reassurance, as per usual. Mentally you had to be begging for him to drop to his knees for you. You were self sabotaging again. But it was the first time you had ever tried to do it with him. 

Last week, Doctor Crane canceled your appointment an hour before it should have commenced. A family emergency. Like he had anyone important enough for that. It was just a little experiment of his, to see how truly attached he already knew you were. 

It must have driven you insane. He wished he got to see how much you cried, or how out of touch you were for days. Because despite him constantly claiming otherwise, you thought he was wrapped around your finger by this point and it saddened you to remember how restricted your relationship was with him. His theory looked to be revealingly correct.

“Something’s on your mind… Did you want to tell me?” He asked, tilting his head towards you like you were a dog begging for attention. 

Oh how you hated the way his attitude could switch up on you. One minute he was loving, the next he was neglectful. Little did you realize, he was acting how you’d act to everyone else. 

“Yeah” you murmured with a gentle nod. 

He nodded for you to continue on. When you didn’t continue on, by your voice being stuck in your throat, his left eyebrow cocked. “I want this to be our last session together” you spat out your confession, gulping down your fear as you finally made eye contact with you.

You wanted to read his initial reaction, but the man’s face was carved by stone. It only overfilled your stomach with dreading anxiety and made your heart pound in your chest heavier.  

“Oh really? But I enjoyed our sessions” Doctor Crane pouted to you, he closed his notepad and placed it on the coffee table. 

His legs were crossed in a slutty manner as he tilted his head to you. You laughed nervously, he was always toying with you now, you couldn’t let your emotions persuade you otherwise. 

“So did I” you replied quietly, you face cringing at your response straight after, your thighs pressed together. Now with that, you caught his perfect blue eyes linger down to your thighs, only for a quick second. It could have been missed if you blinked at the wrong time. 

“So, what’s the reason?” He questioned. His fingers continued to tap on his knee as he watched you nervously bat your eyes around. 

“Because I’m going to work it out with Jaime” you spat out before you could think. 

-

Jaime was this guy you started seeing during your sessions with Doctor Crane. He was a coworker of yours and the tension had slowly been brewing over time. With your therapist’s help, you felt like you should try to open yourself to others besides him. So you did, you went on continuous dates. Yet you were too scared to tell Doctor Crane, this gut feeling told you he wouldn’t like it. 

When you were confident enough to share the information in your next session, you did not expect to walk out of the clinic with a flipped opinion on Jaime. Doctor Crane pointed out the facts. You liked the idea of him. He was promising, he looked at you in awe and not in desire. He cared about your future together. Jaime was the type of guy you’d take home to meet your parents. He was financially responsible, family oriented, involved in the community and took care of you. 

So Jaime ticked all of the appropriate factors, but Doctor Crane questioned what you really liked about Jaime. It left you lost for words, what previously you felt you could write an essay about, your mind fell blank. 

He followed this up on your fear of being sexual with him still. 

“You’re not into him. Four dates and still nothing? You’re just trying to fill the loneliness inside of you” He sighed, sounding disappointed in your actions. 

“No… No…” You defended pathetically. 

Your mind was racing at this point and there was no emergency stop lever. Hands rubbing together in an anxious manner as you blinked hard. 

“Fine, let’s do an exercise then” he clapped his hands together dramatically. 

You looked at him confused as he moved over to the lounge sofa. His hand gestured for you to follow, hesitantly you did and sat next to him. Through a stiff posture, you looked over to him as he casually leant back into the cushioning, his hands caressing his thighs. 

It came out before you could properly process it. A part of you thought it was a joke and then the next thought it was a hallucination. You stared down in a transfix, your throat clogged and mouth dry. 

“Pretty… Isn’t it?” He hummed as he stroked his huge size, his gaze panning up to you. A sly smirk was planted under his dark eyes. 

As your logic broke out, you whimpered and went to stand up but his hand latched onto your thigh quicker. 

“Relax, I don’t want you to touch me. I just want you to watch me” he clarified, as if it made this any better. “Don’t take your eyes off of me, okay?” He mumbled his demand as his eyes moved back down to his length. 

He was larger than most. A vein that poked out of his sensitive skin, which looked to be a couple of centimeters long. Typically, he was cleanly shaved as his hand wrapped around his firm member. All you could do was stare, in desire, in disgust, in disorder, in awe. 

You therapist looked back up to you, he pictured you dropping to your knees, humping your soaked cunt on his polished shoe as you begged him to fuck you, to make you orgasm. Fantasied you screaming his name out as he buried himself deep inside of you. 

He had to bite onto his lower lip to hold back his groans. As your thighs pressed together, you felt your core tingle, the vibrations grew bigger around your sensitive area. Both of your eyes shot up to each other simultaneously.

“You like this? Watching me stroke myself” he murmured, a wicked grin on his face as he observed your wide eyes. 

“Y-yeah” you shuddered, your head nodding in agreement. This massive urge inside of you fought to wrap your hands around his size, but you felt too intimidated to do it. 

“Dirty girl” he moaned lightly as he picked up his speed. 

As his climax almost reached its peak and his cock twitched, he swiftly let go of his member and maneuvered you onto your back. You gasped out in a mixture of shock, fear and pleasure as he roughly pulled up your top and aimed his length at your stomach. 

After a couple of vicious strokes, Doctor Crane snarled as his white ropes sprayed across your soft flesh. Your eyes darted up to his blue eyes and down to his throbbing member repetitively, your body stiff underneath him. He hummed in a low tone as his strokes came to a halt. 

He tilted his head at the pretty sight and breathed out. Your eyes connected once more and he chuckled to you.  

“See, how could you be into him? You just watched me masterbate and let me finish on you” he spoke in a nonchalant tone. 

-

He was calling your bluff, but the fact that you had the audacity to bring up his name angered him. Made him feel a wave of jealousy even. Nevertheless, he would still be up for the challenge. He snorted to you, his eyes studying your facial expressions. There was nothing you could do but awkwardly rub your chin and look away from your therapist. 

“You’re a horrible liar” he pointed out with a sly look. All you could do was lower your head in shame. “I thought I was helping you” he hummed, head tilted to the side as he waited for you to look back over to him. 

“I don't want to see you anymore” you divulged with a grunt, growing frustrated with his investigations. 

“Why not?” 

“I just don’t want to” you spoke slowly, every word had your jaw clenching. 

“This hasn’t got something to do with our last session together, does it?” He asked, a cynical smile growing on his lips. 

All you could do was shake your head. He was getting under your skin, he was meant to be a therapist for crying out loud. Why was he being so mean to you? Why did this have to mean so much to him? 

The matter in question was your last session together. 

-

You walked into the room highly overstimulated, unfocused, irritated with your burden of a reality. The past few nights you had been crying endlessly. The thought of him was constantly on your mind. He was an enigma, the impossible puzzle in stores that no one even bothered to attempt. Every move you made with him had you stepping back twice as far. Thinking of him made you so overwhelmed, because you didn’t know what he wanted from you. It was some twisted game in his mind and you were too naive in the beginning to think it was something else. 

He touched you, held you, caressed you, whispered sweet words into your ear, kissed you. Your therapist had explored almost every inch of your skin. His hips had rocked in sync with yours. You’ve seen him in completely vulnerable positions. Yet there was nothing that kept you together except for you booking in another appointment. 

He continued to remind you that he didn’t want you at the end of every session without saying as he walked you out the door. A constant reminder that these were only exercises. You were exhausted and ready to raise the flag. 

There was something real hidden underneath all of this. A twisted sensation that connected you both as one. It was a gut feeling, and you’d be damned if you tried to wait the sensation out of your body. At this point, it was all or nothing. 

“Act on it” he told you with an approving nod. 

You had just opened up to him with your scenario. Which he instantly knew was based around him despite you being highly vague. He read your expressions and body language clearly. You were overwhelmed, emotional, depressed, anxious and aroused. 

“What?” You frowned at him, a mixture of confusion and hope. 

“Act on your impulses” he clarified, straightening himself in his seat. There was a pause as you tried to read his expression, questioning if he was implying what you truly wanted to do. “Do it” he encouraged, flashing you a toothy grin. 

His legs spreaded on the chair, his hand tapping gently on his thigh, you could see it from where you were seated, the bulge in his trousers. Hesitantly you stood from your seat, he nodded to reassure you. Through a wobbly stance, you gradually approached your therapist, your heart pounded and thoughts raced like hotrods. 

As you stood before him, he admired the fear painted on you. You gulped down your thoughts and closed your eyes as you straddled him, his hands crept up to your hips as you took his short dark locks of hair in your hands. 

This was different from last time, you held the reins right now. Too afraid to look at him this closely, you leant down and kissed him. He welcomed your tongue into his mouth as his hands slid up and down your lower back, sending sensational shocks amongst your nerves. 

You moaned into his mouth and gently tugged at his roots. His hands wrapped around your back and he rocked his hips up and down slowly. When you finally opened your eyes again, he was looking right into you, as if he was studying every single thing you were doing. It discouraged you and you separated your lips and gulped, your hand wiped around your mouth. 

“Don’t be afraid… I’m right here, I’ll look after you” he promised you gently. 

You weakly smiled at him and found yourself slowly slipping down off of him. As you landed on your knees, your hands ran up and down his thin thighs. He sighed quietly as he watched you undo his leather belt. He helped you by raising his hips so you could tug down at pants, his cock flopped out onto his stomach. 

You’ve never touched it before and it sent vibrations up your core. It felt suspenseful, the quick look you gave before you wrapped your hands around him. He moved forward on the seat and you gave him a couple of lazy pumps. Slowly, your lips pressed against his tip and he groaned in approval. 

You closed your eyes as his length slipped into your mouth. Quickly, his hands gently held onto your cheeks. 

“No no… Don’t look away from me, I want to see those pretty eyes of yours” he ordered kindly, a sweet smile on his mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open and your mouth smiled around his length. As you hummed around his size, it sent vibrations down his sensitive member. At a slow pace, your mouth bobbed up and down, taking in a little more than the last time. His hands looped into your loose, soft hair as he encouraged you to go a little bit faster. Doctor Crane liked it when you thrummed around him, how you’d hollow your cheeks and the way you batted your eyes up to him. 

“Oh, such a good girl… You’re doing a fantastic job” he praised in a mixed tone of condescending and admiration which made your thighs press together.  He carefully lifted his body up from the chair and his trousers started to slip to his ankles. His legs stood apart as he guided your head. Your hands ran up the back of his thighs and rested just below his glutes.

One hand slipped out of your hair so he could untighten his tie enough so he could pull it off. His hands slowly pulled your mouth off of him, you made a pop sound and for a second he thought he was going to finish right there and then. Even though you were breathing heavily, you were smiling so gleefully at him, he couldn’t help but to look at you in awe momentarily. 

“Here… Wear this, it’ll make you look even prettier” he requested as he slipped and tightened his red tie around your gorgeous neck. 

His hand wrapped from the tip of the tie and gently tugged your mouth back towards his throbbing, wet member. Eagerly, you took him back into your mouth completely. Your fingernails tickled at his hamstrings as you found a smooth rhythm to bob at. 

“You’re so good at this… Can I go a bit rougher?” He gasped out. 

He didn’t even give you a moment to respond. He tugged the tie harshly towards him repetitively as his tip would hit the back of your throat. Your nails dug into his flesh as you squint your eyes shut, tears naturally swelled up. 

“No, I told you to look at me” he ordered more firmly this time, his free head patting your cheek to get your attention. 

You obeyed, but blunk repetitively to try to wash away your tears. He was groaning out gently, he didn’t expect you to look so beautiful this way. It felt almost native to him to have you here in this state. 

His size was twitching frequently in your mouth, he could feel how close he was. As his mouth fell open in pleasure, you couldn’t help but to smile again despite the painful speed you were going at. Because you were pleasing him, he was happy. 

“Can I finish in your mouth darling?” He asked in a gasp. 

Immediately you moaned around his shaft and even though Doctor Crane didn’t know what you were trying to spit out, he took it as a yes. When he felt his climax tip over, he pulled your face to his lower region, your nose pressed against his lower abdomen as he held you still there. His seed shot straight down your throat, only a couple of ropes got caught on your tongue. 

His blue eyes rolled back and he moaned out loudly. As his hand around the tie instinctively pulled as far as he could and his other hand slipped back into your hair and caressed your scalp. When his eyes fluttered back to reality and his post orgasm state settled in, he still held you around him, wanting it to last one more longer. 

Gradually, the tie slipped out of his hand and he tugged you off of him. Your body slumped down as you breathed out hard and swallowed the remainder of his semen. You took off the tie and rubbed the friction burn around your neck and soreness that pulsed on your mouth. 

However, when you looked back up to him, your smile quickly faded. 

“And that’s time…” He spoke emotionlessly, his eyes glued onto his watch. 

He had already tucked himself back into his trousers. Whilst you sat on your knees looking like a sweating mess. When he held his hand out, you mistook it for a kind gesture of helping you up. But he only wanted his tie back. As he tied it back around his neck, you sat frozen on knees, head laying low. 

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sweetheart, come on. I have another appointment” he sighed, his voice sounding distant. 

When you looked up, he was by the door, his hips leant to the left with his hands resting above them. You blinked away your tears and stood up on wobbly feet. Quickly you grabbed your belongings and sniffled as you approached him. 

As you went to open the door, his hand rested on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but to look up to him with a sliver of hope. 

“That was good progress today, I’ll see you next week” he nodded to you, his expression emotionless. 

He opened the door for you before you could even try to utter a word. As you walked out and turned around to see him one more time, he shut the door before you could. 

When he canceled on you the week after, reality hit you like a train traveling at high speed. He was using you, you were only a playtoy and it was a matter of time until he grew bored of you. The irony was how your therapist was destroying you instead of fixing you.  

You drove recklessly the whole time, wishing that you would just end up in a fatal crash. He told you to stay away from recreational drugs and alcohol early on. But that weekend you went out and impulsively took more than you should have. You ended up grinding with strangers, closing your eyes and picturing him and then you’d drink more to try to forget about him, even though it was just for the night. 

You don’t know how you got home the next morning, better yet how you didn’t have a single scratch on your body. It felt a sign that you needed to let him go. That he was the toxic venom in your life and loving him would kill you. 

He was the two end balls on Newton's cradle, his behavior to you was constantly switching. The way he kissed you, held you, caressed you. It all meant nothing. Especially when it came to comparison of how he’d shout at you, belittle you, scream even on occasions. Some sessions you’d end up having a complete meltdown in his arms and he’d apologize for taking the exercise too intensely. 

Everything he was doing to you was illegal. This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t proper treatment. He was only making your condition worse. He was taking advantage of you and you had been stupid enough to allow it for so long. It was time to take off the rose tinted glasses. 

-

Doctor Crane was correct yet again. You were not back in contact with Jaime. You only needed an excuse to get out of this cobweb of painful emotions and it was the best idea you had. His blue eyes were shooting daggers at you as he waited for your answer. 

“You could have canceled over the phone but you’re here… Why?” He frowned towards you, moving forward in his seat to get a view. 

You clicked your tongue and blinked back your tears. Your body was running high on adrenaline, it was hard for you to process anything that was happening around you. Doctor Crane could see how overstimulated you were, how hard this must have been for you. 

Your head remained low as you began to speak. “I will-”

“Look at me when you’re talking” he resisted his snarl through his demand as he cut you off. 

As you clicked your tongue again, your head shot up in anger. He couldn’t help but to grin, you’ve never looked at him with such fury. The fire inside of you made the blood run to his cock. 

A thousand words stormed through your brain. Everything that you wanted to scream at him banged against the walls, desperately trying to break out. It was hard to know what you wanted to say first. But then a thought of reflection sparked and within a click, your angered expression disappeared. Your torso relaxed as you blinked at him. His dark eyebrows furrowed to you as you calmed your breathing. 

“Goodbye Doctor Crane” you exhaled, a soft satisfied smile on your lips. 

For once, you could read his expression enough, he was taken aback. His eyes widened, only slightly, but nevertheless they widened. As his mouth slowly opened and head tilted, as his mind raced to spit something out, you stood up from your seat and turned to the door, gulping down all of your nerves. 

For a moment, he couldn’t help but to admire you walking away, the way your hips would swing. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was proud of you, for finally standing up for yourself. But he knew one thing, you were going to walk out that door and never return. 

Doctor Crane would be damned if he allowed you to leave him, especially on your own terms. A quick flash of fear mixed with excitement washed over his face and he acted impulsively for once. A sudden rush of desperation and desire compelled his thoughts. He jumped from his chair like a predator in pursuit of its prey. 

Before you could reach for the knob, you’re forced up against the door, not softly yet not too roughly to leave a mark. You gasp out as his hands run over your body animalistically. Doctor Crane’s mouth pressed to your jaw as his arms tangled around your body. 

“Doctor-” you whimpered and he couldn’t help but to moan out your name. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked quietly by your ear, his words hissing like a viper. 

Tears begin to shed again from your sore eyes. Why couldn’t he just let you leave and move on. 

“Stop…” you chortled, shaking your head at the thought of staying in this any longer. 

“Let’s talk about this” he pleaded in a humorous tone as he tried to guide you back to the middle of the room. 

But you stood firmly, your hand could just hold onto the doorknob. When you shook your head again he grunted and kissed your neck. 

“I don’t want to” you shivered, you wanted to sound confident but your emotions were failing you.

Doctor Crane kissed your neck repeatedly to try to convince you otherwise. It only made you whine and struggle against him. His lips pressed to your ear as his head nuzzled against yours, your knees couldn’t help but to buckle. 

“I thought you liked me…” 

“I can’t do this” you bit back your moan as you felt his erection hump against your ass. 

Naturally, your back began to arch as you pushed your head back against his. Whilst being under this seductive trance, he pulled you back towards his chair and fell back onto it. You sat on his lap, you back pressed against his front and his tongue rolled over your earlobe. 

“You’re so overstimulated right now… I can feel it running through your skin. You can’t even see how badly you’re acting. I bet you can hardly process what I’m saying” he grinned as his hands ran up and down your body, too greedy to stick to one spot. 

“No! Let go of me please! I want to leave!” You cried out, his fingers swiftly swam into your mouth to silence you. 

“Darling… Darling, you’re not okay. I need to help you. I legally can’t let you leave in this state, for your safety and others” he disclosed, a mischief look on his face. 

As his free hand snaked up to your tits as the other continued to pump his fingers into and out of your mouth. Your body squirmed on his, but you didn’t try to jump off of him, your body felt tired and aroused. 

“Fuuuck, you wore such a slutty outfit today. You must have really wanted to get my attention” he snickered as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and you gasped out. 

“Doctor please… Please let me go. I-I” you stuttered as your eyes remained shut. 

“Stop thinking… Let your impulses take over” he spoke calmly. 

“No I can’t!” you argued, shaking your head at the thought of submitting to him again. 

You hated yourself. Because for days you were so determined on ridding him out of your mind. Finally letting go of his abuse. You were going to fix the part that he purposely broke in you. But here you were again, back on his lap. 

He sighed out and kissed your heated cheek again. 

“Look at how emotional you are. My poor insecure girl, I bet you’re all built up down there” he exhaled deeply as his wet fingers traveled down under your skirt and your body froze. 

“No… Stop, you’re upsetting me” you sobbed as his hand danced around your panties. 

He breathed out, his hand slid down to your thigh as he pressed his forehead to your hair. Silence filled the room as he hummed quietly, you sniffled a couple of times. 

“I know… If it changes anything, I’m sorry” he admitted, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

A beat. 

“Really?” You asked in a hopeful tone, your head turned back to him. 

Doctor Crane’s expression was completely emotionless except for his eyes as he slowly nodded. They were wide and glistening. Slowly, your body shifted back around to face him and his hands rested on your lower back. 

“Yes, I fail to remember how subconscious you can be” he explained, his fingertips playing with the end of your skirt. You felt skeptical, but he looked so innocent with his eyes raw with emotion, how could you not forgive that. “Let me make it up to you” he whispered as he leant in to kiss you. 

You allowed it, your arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed you passionately. You whimpered, your body shivering as his hands ran up your thighs to your ass. 

“I don’t want to do another exercise” you gasped as you broke the kiss. 

“This isn’t an exercise” he said sternly, his hands squeezing your rear. 

“What is it?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Something far more memorable” he shrugged his shoulders gently as his fingers unbutton your blouse. “Now, let’s get you out of this pretty outfit” he instructed. As you pulled your shirt off, his fingers trailed over the perfect blue bra you wore. “So arresting” he admired, his top teeth grazing over his lower lip. 

He kindly ordered you to stand up as he unclasped your bra. His blue eyes lingered on your bare torso as he dropped to his knees to unbuckle your shoes. After he assisted you to take off your socks, he slowly pulled down your skirt and panties as one to the floor. 

He breathed out as he looked up to take in your perfectly imperfect figure. Your existence was like a piece of kintsukuroi, you turned to be more beautiful after being broken. 

He had never seen you naked before. Never seen anything besides the beauty of your stomach or thighs. Your body shivered and subconsciously you pulled your arms to your chest and your thighs crossed over as you watched his dark eyes, dripping with lust scan over you. After you did that, his eyes snapped up to yours and he tutted to you 

“No, no… Never hide yourself from me, ever” he commanded firmly as his arms reached up and repositioned yours back to your sides.

You whimpered but nodded regardlessly as his hands met in between your thighs and pushed them apart. He admired your cleanly shaved region and his hot breath fanned you momentarily before his cold lips pressed to your gushing folds. 

“Tastes so delightful” he complimented before kissing you there again. 

You held back your moan, it got stuck in your throat and he looked up to you. Purely wanting to see your reaction as he flicked his tongue over your clit. You mumbled out, your hands instinctively gripped into his hair for support. As his hands caressed your glutes, you couldn’t help but to feel a similitude to your last encounter together. His tongue lapped at your entrance, zigzagged up and down your folds as your eyes began to roll back. Naturally your hips rocked and fingertips massaged his scalp as he began to kiss your cunt in a sloppy manner. 

“Such a cute pussy” he commented in a lustful tone before his tongue shot inside of you. 

You cried out as you roughly tugged at his roots. His slippery tongue was darting in and out of you. The vibrations were sparking up your nerves as you couldn’t try to hide your moans any longer. Your toes were curling on the floorboards, breathing unsteady as your eyes blinked heavily. 

“I-I need… I need to” you stammered out, lost for words as your sight began to blur.

“Need to finish? You’ll ask nicely then” he demanded with a grin as he looked back up to you. 

You cried out in frustration as you heaved. “Please… Can I come” you whimpered softly. 

Usually, he’d prefer to tease a bit longer. But you looked so sweet, he couldn’t find a reason to say no. 

“Come on then, let me taste your sweet orgasm” he encouraged before his tongue attacked your bundle of nerves again. 

Shortly after, you screamed out, your back arched, head snapped back, toes tried to dig into the floor as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It was music to his ears, as he greedily ate you out completely. You were whimpering words as he licked your cunt clean, your eyes forced shut from pleasure. 

Doctor Crane slowly stood up and rubbed his bulge, smiling at your post orgasm state. It wasn’t until you felt the cool sensation of the desk on your rear when you relaxed how far in the room you had moved. Your back fell onto the wood as you breathed out, his pants open enough for his throbbing cock to hang out and be stroked in his hand. 

“You go so mindless when you climax, it’s quite fascinating” he pointed out as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. 

You smelt of jasmine and rose, the perfect mixture of sweet floral and seductive muskiness which made his nostrils flare. Whilst he smelt of a perfect blend of rose petals, musk, precious woods and floral citrus which made Jonathan feel like he was the aftermath of a rain shower to you. 

You gulped as he pressed his tip to your recovering core. “Do you like me?” You blurted out as a wave of doubt crashed over you. 

“I fuck all of my patients” he chuckled lightly which made your face drop. “That was a joke” he sighed as he pressed the back of his hand to your heated cheek. “You certainly have my attention” he admitted with a soft smile as he lined his cock to your entrance.  

He wasn’t even sure if he was capable of those emotions, at least in a traditional sense. He knew that he loved every bit you hated of yourself, addicted even. There was this primal urge to take care of you, to look after you felt like a captivity he desired to be in. 

He liked how much you subconsciously feared him, which always resulted in you wanting to please him, to get some form of reassurance, of love. It was nice, knowing that someone was addicted to him like he was a drug. The feeling of being loved was comforting, in his own taboo way. 

As he roughly thrusted himself instead of you, your hands fell back and you knocked something off the desk. Your head snapped back to see what but his hand turned your face back to his serious expression. 

“How many times do I have to tell you. Keep your eyes on me” he warned as he continued to fuck you.

“But-” you opposed as you leant back more and gripped onto the edge of the desk. 

“Don’t worry about it” he grunted with his hips pistoning into you. 

You nodded eagerly with your mouth wide open. 

It was as if your eyes could speak the way he looked at you. The inquisitiveness in him always wanted to know what you were thinking. But at the same time, he merely liked to look into your pretty eyes. It almost gave him comfort that he was finally truly seen by another. 

You were alluring to him. Apparently made from the same toxin he was, because he was an addict for you. He was obsessed with discovering every single atom of you. It felt like his life mission to know everything there was to know about you. Yes, he took it too far with you on many occasions. But he just needed to uncover your triggers. He needed to know what to protect you from and how to keep you attached to him. 

His arms straightened besides your shoulders. “That’s my good fucking girl” he praised as his cock twitched inside of you. 

By the force he was going at, it was hurting you, but regardless, you felt your cunt drip immensely. His mouth hung open as his blue eyes fluttered lightly. 

“What do you call me?”

“Huh?” 

Doctor Crane repeated his words sternly after every thrust. You blinked and stammered for a moment, his cock distracting you from the correct answer. 

“Daddy?” You guessed unsurely. 

“No… Your father left you. But not me, I’m right here sweetheart. Call me by my name, because that’s what lovers do, isn’t it?” Jonathan smirked as his pace picked up, his own eyes began to roll back. 

You whimpered and called him by his name. In return, he moaned back your name and called you a good girl before kissing you. Through swollen eyes, you panted underneath him, his mouth pressed to your jaw. 

“You can be so mean to me” you whined pathetically as you struggled to keep your eyes on him. 

“I know” he replied blankly. 

“Why?” 

“It’s all a part of your treatment” he sighed, silencing you with his lips before you could ask any further questions. 

When your lips eventually separated, his hips were still thrusting into you viciously. Your region felt full and another orgasm was trying to latch onto your sensitive nerves. One arm shot up to latch around his neck, holding his face closer to yours as you stared deeply into his eyes. 

“I love you” you admitted in a trance of lust, comfort and pure raw emotion.

“I already knew that” Jonathan groaned back to you. 

You were dreaming if you believed you’d be able to get a confession out of him. If anything, you should be grateful enough to get this much out of him. But Jonathan couldn’t deny his attraction, his fixation towards you. 

You were in his dreams quite frequently. Jonathan saw you at home, being a perfect housewife and an exceptional lover for him. He had thought of going back to teaching at the university instead, that way you’d be able to make him breakfast, pack his lunch and have dinner ready for him by the time he returned home. His salary would be enough to protect you both financially, so you’d be able to quit your job and focus your life purely on him. Just as your condition compelled you to. This way, he’d be able to look after you always, and you'd be able to look after him. 

“I’m so fucking addicted to you. You’re my favorite little obsession” he confessed with a wicked smile. 

The type of look that made your stomach turn, realizing how big of a hole you had dug yourself, you may just never be able to climb back out of it. As a natural instinct urged you to get up and make a run for it, Jonathan forced you completely onto your back. 

You grunt out from the pain as he pressed himself completely inside of your pulsing walls. Jonathan’s tongue ran down your face. 

“You know BPD is incurable? You’re always going to need someone to look after you” he implied as his movements turned slow and painful as your cunt clenched around his size. 

“You scare me so much” you admitted through a wobbly lower lip. 

“Darling… That’s the whole point of it all” he replied calmly. 

“But don’t stress, I’ll always be here to help you” Jonathan assured your insecurities. 

[rainbowroadonsteroids]

so we know in the owl house there's regular and hard apple blood

and in keeping up a-fear-ances lilith and king were eating ice cream that made them drunk (courtesy of the night market)

so what would happen if you blended the ice cream together with hard apple blood? would it make a blended drink that'd make you see the titans?

[bunniesanddeer]

Hi,

Just recently found your stories! I love how you write Alastor! I have a request and I apologize if its long.

Reader arrives at the hotel and unbeknownst to everyone they can see people’s pasts, mainly their earthly lives, once they touch them. Which usually isn’t a problem until she meets Alastor. They see his past as well as the fact that his soul is owned by a mysterious entity.

As time goes by, Alastor and reader form something of a friendship and he can sense reader is powerful and repeatedly tries to get them into a soul deal. One evening while at the bar, he’s trying to make a deal when reader, somewhat drunk, states “no power I have can help you with your deal.”

One of those “oh shit” moments and reader runs only to get caught by a very agitated Alastor. They explain how they know and don’t know who the deal is with etc trying to calm him down. He realizes they have known this whole time and not spoken of it so he feels he can trust them.

Sorry sorry sorry this longer then it sounded in my head!

Hi! Sorry this took so long! So much has happened, and yet so little. In the middle of trying to buy a home, and my full-time job has been kicking my butt. Sorry if this is OOC, or anything like that. I have been having a hard time writing at all!

Everything

Pairing: Alastor X Reader

Warnings: Mild horror.

Word Count: 2,093

Maybe it was the psychology degree. Maybe it was that strange empathy that had been instilled into you as a survival response. Either way, you don’t know what caused it; when you ended up in Hell, because of course you did, you found out you had a strange ability, one that startled you. At a single touch, the entirety of someone’s life was made known to you; all their secrets, their thoughts, and even their afterlife. Their lives were heavy burdens, and so you settled on wearing gloves. You could minimize the damage to your psyche, and to your soul, if you avoided it entirely. No one would find out, if there was no risk of you using it.

Time was hard to measure in Hell, and so you couldn’t tell how long it took you to find a comfortable, enough, routine in Hell. You wore soft gloves, and only took them off when alone, or when they got soiled. You had a job, and you were living a boring rerun of your life on Earth. That was until you saw the advertisement for the “Hazbin Hotel”, looking for employees. You recalled the Princess, Charlie, making a fool of herself on the news only a few months prior. She was endearing, and the reminder and call for employees drew your attention. Without thinking too hard on it, your decision had been unconsciously made. You were going to apply. 

The main lobby was large, and had family portraits of the royal family hung on the wall. There was a bar and couches on the far side of the room. There was no one but the bartender in the room. The grumpy cat at the bar drew your eyes, and so you made your way to him. 

“Ah, hello?” You called to him, trying not to startle him. 

Sharp pupils lazily flickered towards you, and the cat-man let out a grunt. 

“I’m here to maybe, apply for a position here,” you continued. You extended a hand and introduced yourself. “I was a therapist, and although it has been some time-”

“I don’t care. You’ll be talkin’ to Charlie,” the bartender interrupted, taking a swig of his drink. “She probably already knows you’re here.”

Sure enough, a white blur was bounding down the steps, exuberance filling every part of  her form. “Oh hello! Hello! My name is Charlie,” she said, grabbing at one of your hands and shaking your whole body with her handshake. “You said you were a therapist?”

Now that she had settled into being mostly still, you could make out her features better. She had blonde hair, loosely tied, and cherub cheeks. Her large eyes were filled with such wild hope, that you feared ever needing to tell her ‘no’. This was the Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar. 

“Uh, yes, I was!” You try to match her tone, and notice other people filling into the lobby. “I specialized in correctional counselor. I worked with those in the prison system, trying to help them avoid recidivism. Along with programs in the prison, we helped them acclimate back to civilian life, and keep their records clean! I also worked with some after they left.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Oh wow! That would be PERFECT.” You watch her smile grow, and she turns to the woman that was now standing next to her. “You hear that, Vaggie? This is great, right?”

Although you were hesitant, this felt like the right move. So with a little forced pep to your step, you accepted the offer she made only minutes later, and joined the Hazbin Hotel team. That was before you realized Alastor was there. 

Months into your stay was the first time you accidentally touched anyone. You had been in your room, organizing some of your things, when Alastor barged in, yelling about some Angel Dust annoying him. The two of you had a weird friendship going. He would poke and prod you, and you would laugh it off and speak your mind about what you thought was ‘wrong’ about him — all in good fun, of course. Because of your general comfort with each other, he liked to barge into your personal space more and more often, and it had led to a few close calls. Now, though, was far too close. You weren't wearing gloves, and he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“My dear, you simply must tell Angel Dust that his attempts at wooing are preposterous!” Alastor flipped you around so you were facing him. “He has no musical talent at all, I’m sure! How would it ever work?”

You scrunched up your face, and stared up at him. His bright red pupils widened as you laughed. “Al, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, what fooey!” Alastor grabbed at your hand before you could pull it away, and it happened. Everything. All the terrible words and looks in his childhood. His mother’s soft smile, and her softer hands cupping his face as tears rolled down his cheeks. Angry voices telling him to leave. The cool feeling of metal under his hands. Warm liquid pooling beneath his feet. The chains wrapped around his throat. The abject hate he felt. The way every single choice he made had to be done precisely. The spark of joy he had to smother around people he loosely defined as friends. The control he desired like smoke in his hands. And then it was gone, and Alastor was giving you an odd look. 

“Are you alright, dear?” His head cocked, and the static that constantly coated his words quieted down. His thumb rubbed across your bare skin once, before he pulled his hand away from you, letting it clasp around his microphone. 

“Uh, yeah. Zoned out there, for a moment. No worries,” you said, trying to discourage his well-known prodding. You couldn’t handle it, right now. You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t get much sleep, last night, I’m sorry.”

When he finally let it go, and went back to his ranting, your mind slowed down. Now that it had happened, it was only a matter of time before something slipped. Would you die, because of what you knew? Would his master order him to slaughter you, or would he do it happily himself? Or would he use you, thinking that your power could save him, when the inevitable confrontation occurred?

You could only worry and wonder. There was nothing you could do to change it now. And so you kept your mouth shut, and waited.

The inexorable fate that awaited you, came weeks later, when the staff had settled in together to drink. Angel Dust was working, Sir Pentious had squirreled himself away in his room, and Charlie and Vaggie were out having ‘date-night’. The group, including Alastor, were several drinks in. 

Husk poured Alastor another drink, rolling his eyes at the Radio Demon’s antics. Alastor was telling a wild tale, and it had you and Niffty cackling, although it seemed she had heard it before.

“And just as he turns back to yell at me, he slips, and falls! Splat! Straight onto the concrete!” Alastor lets out a raving cackle. Niffty giggles, her drink splashing a bit as her whole body shakes. You wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, and try to calm your breathing.

“That is so fucked up, Al. Why?” You wheeze. “Why do you do this?”

“Because-” and he hiccups, which sets you off into more giggling. “Because life is a tragedy, and tragedy is hilarious.” He sets his drink down, and slots himself onto your seat, squishing you as he does. “As you know, my dear, I take quite a liking to anything that makes me laugh.”

He’s incredibly drunk, there is no way he isn’t, because he fucking taps your nose with one red claw, and mutters “Boop”, under his breath. You shake your head, feeling like you’ve drank more than you had. Your eyes feel the tiniest bit fuzzy and you laugh at the strangeness of it. 

“Are you alright, Al?” You ask, scooting over just a little, trying to get him off of your hip. “You seem out of it.”

Husk grunts, “He’s always like that with whiskey and rye. Should’a seen him a couple years ago-” His voice cuts off, and you look over to see the death glare Alastor is giving him. It settles when the bartender stays quiet with an eye roll. “Oh, whatever.”

Alastor hums, and then returns to looking at you. “You know, my dear, I could really help you out, down here, if we were to make a deal! Imagine setting up your own little clinic, and helping all the wayward souls down here!” He giggles again, and his smile widens. “Or you could manipulate them all to do your bidding with your strange mind medicine!” 

You shake your head. “C’mon Al, you know I’m not interested in that.”

Alastor shakes his head, his ears flopping back a little. “Then not that! There is plenty I could give you, for just one, little deal!”

Without thinking, you mutter, “I have no power that can help you with your deal, Al.” 

Your heart stops in your chest, and you stare at Alastor as his entire demeanor changes. His eyes are wide, and his pupils are tiny pinpricks of light in his dark sclera. His hand grips at the arm of the couch, and you know you’ve fucked up. Before he can say anything, you dart up, and out of the lounge. 

With the sudden surge of adrenaline, you feel nearly sober. Your feet pound at the floor as you dash down the hall, and up the stairs as quickly as you can manage. You slide around a corner, and sprint down a hallway before you hear the static. 

The normal white noise has been replaced with a thick static, heavy with screams, and the hall is getting dark. It feels as if the torches on the wall are being snuffed out, even though you can see them still softly glowing in the dark. Your heart pounds, and your breath catches as you hear Alastor’s music playing at a distance. He’s not nearly far enough behind. Is there anywhere in the hotel you could even hide?

It doesn’t matter, because he’s right behind you in only seconds. His form has grown enormous, and he takes up the entirety of the hallway. One large hand stabilizes him by pressing against the wall, and the other wraps around your torso, fingers wrapping around your form easily. He squeezes you, just enough to let you know how much power he has over you, and he brings you level to his face.

“How do you know?” His voice is rough, and deep, and the static and screams re making your head hurt. When you don’t immediately answer, he squeezes just a little, and shakes you. “HOW DO YOU KNOW?” 

You let out a rough sob. “I can just tell. If I-” your voice cuts out as you cough from the previous exertion. “If I touch someone, I know just about everything about them, from their mortal life, to here in Hell.” Tears roll down your face, and you heave. “I tried to avoid touching you! It’s why I wear gloves! But you caught me off guard a few weeks ago!”

Alastor’s gaze doesn’t waver, but his expression does, just a little. You keep talking.

“I didn’t tell anyone, and I wouldn’t! That goes so far against my morals. You know that. Haha. Patient confidentiality.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have prevented it, and I wish I could help you now that I know, but I can’t!”

Your form is set on the ground, and you want to curl up, so badly, but you don’t. Instead, you open your eyes, and see Alastor, at his normal size, adjusting himself. 

“Yes, well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done.” He flicks his eyes to you. “If you say anything, ever, I’ll gut you, do you understand?”

You merely nod, and he nods in return. He takes a breath, and then offers you a hand, and you take it. 

He gives you a sly smile, as you are wiping your face off with his handkerchief. “I’ll get a deal out of you, yet, my dear!” And he says nothing more, as the two of you make your way back downstairs. 

You hope, with everything you are, that he doesn’t.

Thank you for reading! My taglist is pinned on my page. I will try to have the two other requests I'm working on out soon! Sorry for the wait. Having a chronic illness, a job, and house huntng is hard, haha!

Taglist: @wen01203 @alastorssimp @girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastorssimp @wen01203 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 6

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Summary: Will you always have to wake up in the middle of the night just to get to know Jake? Marc and Steven notice your yearning to see Jake again.

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, complicated relationship stuff, cursing, angst, sex but the language is not overly explicit and nothing gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

One of the delicious advantages of being with Marc was that he liked to bury his angst, longing and inadequacies inside your body. Perhaps fucking through his feelings wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was better than drinking, and cheaper than therapy.

That's not to say Marc didn't see a therapist - he did, pretty regularly. But being inside you felt so much better than unearthing the shit from his childhood.

That's where you found yourself now, face down on the mattress, Marc's strong chest pressed to your back. Your sweat-soaked bodies writhed in tormented bliss as he thrust in and out of you - hard and almost frustratingly slow.

His thick fingers pushed their way through yours, intertwining, pressing your hands high above your head as he twisted his body deeper into yours.

You were helpless beneath him. And you loved it.

Marc was able to control so few things about his existence. The use of your body was one thing you happily and trustingly put completely in his control.

You and Marc did make soup together for dinner, but no matzah balls were harmed in the making of the soup. It was hearty enough for Marc, but also vegan for Steven. You made a mental note ask Jake what kind of food he liked.

"I don't think Jake's a vegan," Marc spoke up, reading your mind. "I think he's the reason my sandwiches are gone half the fuckin' time."

Marc and his sandwiches. He had sworn up and down, on more than one occasion, that either you or Steven had eaten his damn roast beef sandwiches. You always denied it, preferring turkey to beef. And Steven always fired back with, "Y'know I don't eat that shite, mate."

"Oh my god, I think you just solved a mystery," you marveled. The Mystery of the Roast Beef Sandwich and its thief.

Yeah, Marc wondered what else Jake was prone to stealing. Clothes? Money? You?

Then again, Marc couldn't really say anything about money at the moment. He didn't have a job, unless he counted the occasional times he fronted during Steven's university library shift. You were the breadwinner, at least for the time being, lovingly supporting Steven in getting a degree to actually match up to his intellect.

But sharing you? Was it even sharing if it was the same body? And was it even his business if you wanted to be with Jake? He had no fucking clue. All he knew was that you were about to be his spouse. Steven's too, really. But you barely knew Jake. How could you marry someone you didn't know?

"I can hear you thinking," you teased, slathering some fresh-baked bread with butter. "Wanna talk about it? Cause I don't think I can go anymore rounds today - between you and Steven." Meaning Marc wouldn't be able to bury his worries inside you until your body got a damn break.

"Do you mean between me and Steven and Jake?" Marc pointedly asked.

You dropped the butter knife. "W-what?" You squawked. "I haven't slept with Jake."

"But...you want to." Easing beside you, Marc leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Do you?"

You reallly should have spouted off a quick 'no'. But you hesitated.

"Shit," he groaned. "I shoulda known."

"I didn't say anything!" You protested, a little too innocently.

"Exactly," Marc huffed. "You didn't deny it."

"You kind of put me on the spot," you defended, retrieving the knife and returning to your task, furiously coating a slice of bread with five times too much butter. "Besides, Jake drives me crazy. If he climbs in the damn window again, I think I might shove him right back out."

"Ah, hell, it's worse than I thought," Marc grumbled, folding his toned arms over his chest in a distinct, defiant pout.

"How is it worse?" You scoffed. "And...what is worse?"

"You... him... shit," he sighed. "He got to you."

"He didn't," you protested. "Nothing happened. N-not really..." your voice trailed off as Marc's eyes flashed with possessiveness.

"Not really? I thought you said he didn't touch you. What the hell..." He paused, glancing at his reflection in the microwave.

"Is that Steven?" You interrupted, barging in to what you usually respected as private conversation between the boys. "What is he saying?"

Fixing his eyes back on you, Marc smirked triumphantly. "He's saying you look 'a bit flustered,' which would make sense, since you wore those black satin pj's and set your alarm just to see 'that mysterious bloke'."

"Steven, you are such a traitor!" You whined. "You guys are ganging up on me! I just wanted to talk to him."

"Mm-hmm," Marc hummed, caging you in against the counter with one arm on either side of your body. "So that's all you did - talk? In black satin? In the middle of the night?"

Narrowing your eyes, you called his bluff. "You guys are really obsessed with those pj's. Maybe you would have preferred I only wore your t-shirt? Or, I could have slept the way I sleep with you half the time - in nothing."

"Sure, mm-hmm," Marc playfully nodded down at you, mockingly agreeing with every word out of your mouth.

"Besides," you added, giving his chest a playful shove, "who knows how many times Jake has come home and found me like that - then slept beside me anyway?"

Marc went dead silent.

"I'm gonna kill him," he decided, waiting just a beat before scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, spinning you around the kitchen playfully. "First him..." you squealed as he tickled your side, feeling a mixture of giddiness and dizziness as he manhandled you, "then you. And then him again."

"Marc, put me down, put me down!" you giggled delightedly, banging your fists on his back.

After a few more twirls, and howls of laughter from you, he conceded, steadying you back against the counter. The two of you were smiling, breathless... his strong arms caged you in again as he wet his lips with his tongue.

Ducking down, he pressed his body into yours, breathing hotly against your open mouth.

"Promise me something..." he murmured, sucking on your bottom lip and swiping his tongue inside your mouth. He pulled back just a little, teasing you.

"What?" you impatiently demanded, chasing after his lips.

Sliding one hand around the back of your neck, he crushed his lips to yours, giving you what you really wanted. Gripping your jaw, he slid his tongue over yours, licking hotly as you groaned in satisfaction. You could never get tired of kissing this man.

"Promise me," he finally whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. "Promise you'll tell me if something does happen - with Jake, I mean."

Easing back, he stared down into your eyes - his own warm, brown gaze pleading. "I know you don't have to. It-it's not my business, really, but..."

Sighing reluctantly, he poured his heart out to you. He knew he was safe with you - safe to show you what he really felt inside. "It's not like Steven," he admitted. "I don't know Jake. I just...I don't want anything to happen to you."

Nodding quickly, you reached up to caress his face. "Marc, of course. You're going to be my husband - of course I would tell you that."

"Really?" His eyes sparkled with relief and love.

"Yes, really," you sweetly whispered. "And I know there's no part of you that could ever hurt me."

After all that fuss with Steven and Marc, and the damn black satin pajamas, you actually thought you might see Jake again soon - particularly since he had finally introduced himself to his alters.

You thought wrong.

Jake went back to being Jake, not interacting with you or Marc or Steven, and the three of you were none the wiser about how he spent his time.

You couldn't wreck your entire sleep schedule just to look for him every night. He clearly had no intention of interacting with you during waking hours. You tried very hard not to take it personally. After all, you barely knew one another. But Steven and Marc could tell you thought of him...worried after him.

"I think you should wait up for him one night, love," Steven suggested one evening as you sat cuddled on the couch, reading together. London was being London again. The heavens had opened, dumping cold, wet rain for hours, and creating the perfect, candlelit night in for you and Steven.

Glancing over at your fiancé, so adorable in his oversized jumper, your eyebrows knit together questioningly. "You mean, set my alarm? 'Ambush' him again?"

Reaching up to pull his reading glasses off his nose, Steven shrugged. "Don't think it's much of an ambush, really. Just lovely you wanting to talk, is all. No harm in that."

Smiling warmly, you reached for his hand. "I don't think he sees me quite the way you do, my love."

"Not very bright then, is he? Running 'round at all hours for the old bird, missing the chance to come home to a wonder like you."

"Steven," you gasped, grinning at him. "Talking like that is going to bring an end to our night of reading very quickly."

"Fine by me, darling," he chuckled, tossing his book aside without even bothering to mark the page - something Steven never did. "Because I'm not the dimwitted bloke ignoring what's right in front of me." Scooting closer, he pulled you into his arms. "His loss is my gain, I'd say. Have you all the more to m'self."

So it was decided.

You would wait up for Jake (or wake up -whichever) to see if he wanted to interact with you, and ask how he was doing. It was possible, and in your mind, likely, that he didn't want to be a part of your life. But you wanted to hear it from his own mouth, especially since he slept beside you - in your bed, in your home.

Despite your general apprehension, you decided to be your most normal self and sleep (or in this case, stay awake) in one of Marc's white undershirts - they were so soft and smelled so deliciously like him. Steven's fuzzy goldfish socks found their way to your freezing feet.

You took a long nap and drank a huge cup of coffee (made perfectly by Marc) before bed. You were determined to stay up and see how Jake typically began his nighttime routine. He always ninja'd around like some sort of Father Christmas - waiting til everyone was completely asleep before darting in and out of the flat.

It would be your luck that Jake probably wouldn't even front tonight, and your caffeinated body would stare at your sleeping fiancé for the next several hours.

At first, it was difficult to resist cuddling up with your sleepy Steven. He did manage to adorably whine that he needed you, but you quickly reminded him that this was his idea.

"Just miss you 's all," he murmured, drifting off to dreamland.

You got bored very quickly. Steven had recommended a podcast called, 'Welcome to Staying Awake.' Finding some headphones, you tried it out, following the directions it suggested - reading, solving a puzzle, and so forth.

You were just starting to doze in the comfy chair in the bedroom's corner when your fiancé stirred...only to roll over and fall back asleep.

"Ugh..." you huffed, pushing off your chair to head to the kitchen. After a quick splash of water to the face and a long drink of water, you stumbled back to your bedroom...

...where you saw Steven? pulling a pair of tailored black trousers up his legs - his cozy pj's nowhere in sight. Fastening his pants, he turned around - shirtless - nodding once to acknowledge you.

"Jake?" You tentatively greeted, breaking the late-night silence.

"Hola, mi amor," Jake's rich, deep voice greeted you smoothly - his chocolate eyes flickering down to your bare legs. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Jake," you exhaled shakily, easing toward him slowly. "You didn't wake me up. I was waiting for you."

Warmth bloomed in his chest, but he simply reached for his white dress shirt, quickly easing his arms into the sleeves and fastening the buttons.

"Where...do you keep your clothes?" you cautiously asked, inching closer.

Nodding to the closet, he remained quiet, knotting his tie and sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. Khonshu had awakened him. Time to get to work.

"Where are you going?" you questioned after a few quiet moments watching him getting dressed.

Finishing the lacing of his shoes, he stood, reaching for his leather jacket. Realizing your question was not rhetorical, he granted you a slight smirk. "You know where."

"Can I come with you?" You blurted, already flustered. How did he manage to do this to you?

Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head, tutting a bit condescendingly. "You're not serious."

"I am," you insisted, scurrying over to the drawer to find some joggers for your bare legs. Of course, in this state, compared to Jake, you would be way underdressed. He looked head-to-toe incredible.

The faster you moved, trying to get dressed in enough presentable clothing to go out into the frigid rain, the slower Jake moved. But each action was nonchalant, as if he barely noticed your effort.

Why was he so damn infuriating? Then again, those were the exact words he'd said about you...

Pulling a leather glove over his long fingers, one dark eyebrow shot up inquisitively.

"Almost ready," you huffed, feeling like a child asking to go to work with a parent.

Realizing you were serious, Jake yanked on the second glove, giving his knuckles a crack. "Mi corazón..." he warned, pulling his flat cap over the lustrous curls on his head, and wondering what had gotten into you. You couldn't possibly think he would let you anywhere near his night life.

You were dressed now, in a weird mixture of your clothes and Marc's, but your goldfish-clad feet still poked adorably out of your joggers. Glancing all around the room, your eyes frantically searched for the nearest pair of shoes.

Approaching you confidently, Jake reached for your elbow, bringing you to a standstill. "I have to go. You should sleep."

Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you huffed. "I told you I don't respond well to orders."

Rubbing his gloved hand over the stubble on his chin, he nodded, "Goodnight," and turned to walk out of the bedroom.

"No, I'm coming with you, Jake, wait--"

"No, mi corazón. No." He whirled around, his gaze burning into yours.

"Why not?" you shot back, your hands landing on your hips. "You're going to work, right? I need to talk to you. And I want to see what you do."

He scoffed. "No. You don't."

"Stop telling me no," you snapped, realizing this whole stay-up-and-talk-to-Jake thing was already an unprecedented disaster. You simply could not keep your cool around this man.

"Ah, I see - I can't tell you what to do, but you can give me orders." Stalking back over to the night table, he reached for Marc and Steven's phone.

"I-I'm not giving you orders...I just- why can't I come with you?" You were desperate. You realized, at that moment, that alll this was not a good look on you. What happened to cool, calm and collected you? What happened to the you who respected the hell out of Marc and Steven's autonomy and choices?

You went so far as not even trying to dictate to Marc whether or not he should drink. It was his choice, always - it had to come from him. So why couldn't you do the same with Jake? You knew the drill - people were going to do what they decided to do. Arguing the point was only arguing with reality itself.

Sure, you could explain your fears or needs, and Jake could take that information into account. But ultimately, every person in the world always chose what they were going to choose - period, the end.

"I'm not taking you out there. You know it's not safe," he explained with infuriating calmness. "I'm not exactly working a normal job here."

"You mean...you mean Moon Knight. Like...saving people. Like you did with me that night."

His eyes flashed - you couldn't decipher if it was anger or surprise. "Marc told you."

"Yes," you answered softly, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. You had to calm down and stop sounding so desperate. "I just don't understand why you can follow me - why you can watch over me and save me, but you won't just talk to me." Your lip trembled as you started to realize he just may not ever want to be in your life.

"I thought you said that I was your family," you whispered, moving close to peer up into his eyes. "But you haven't talked to me in a week. I've been worried...I've been thinking about you."

Wetting his lips, Jake swallowed hard and shifted from one foot to the other - the first inkling that you were having any effect on him whatsoever. His dark eyes flickered down to yours. "I told you I can take care of myself," he gruffly responded, his resolve beginning to crack. "So stop worrying about me."

"Stop telling me what to do," you fired back, refusing to shrink away. "You're driving me crazy. If you don't want to talk to me, or know me - if you want to sneak in and out of here every night and never see me again, then just say so."

Your chest heaved with emotion. "I won't like it and I won't ever stop worrying about you, or wanting to know you, but --"

You didn't get to finish because Jake roughly pulled you into his arms and crushed his mouth to yours.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face 

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

[back2bluesidex]

Incognito - JHS (WDBHG Drabble)

A Where Do Broken Hearts Go Drabble

Pairing: Hoseok X Fem!Reader X Jungkook

Wordcount: 1k+

Summary: Hoseok is curious about the guy who left you behind. So, he goes incognito.

Warnings: drinking!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: This takes place after chapter 4 and before chapter 5

Try as he might - Hoseok can’t think of anything else other than your lips, which he was about to kiss. 

He doesn’t know what had possessed him earlier tonight but he really regrets it. He had been trying hard not to look at you for the better part of the day. But he failed 

As if he hasn’t sold himself as a creep by continuously ogling his daughter’s therapist, that he had to lean down and almost kiss you. 

Thank god Sua woke up and stopped him, otherwise things might have changed from the next session and he doesn’t want that. Not only Sua but also he have been forming a genuine relationship with someone for the first time in all these years, he doesn’t wanna fuck things up now. Even though you seemed ready for him to take you over.

He pours a good amount of Hibiki in his fancy diamond cut glass. Looking at the liquid he sighs, he thinks to himself of the countless identical nights that he has been spending locking himself up in his study after putting Sua to sleep. 

He could have called Mina tonight. She is always ready and one call away. But somehow Hoseok feels greatly turned off by the idea. 

He almost had a taste of you, he almost put his mouth on yours and lord, he can still somehow smell your sweet subtle vanilla scent in the air. How the fuck he can think of anyone else when you were ready to jump in his arms just an an hour ago? 

He groans at the thought. 

What is this feeling of confusion? Why does he want you but is grateful that things didn’t escalate? 

The whiskey burns at the back of his throat but does nothing to take away the troubled thoughts he has been having. 

Then something ticks in his mind. 

“Jungkoo-?” he murmurs to himself. You didn’t say the full name but this jungkoo person has to be the ex boyfriend that supposedly fell out of love with you. 

And suddenly Hoseok is curious. He wants to see the face of this idiot who let you go. He wants to see the person who broke you and whom you still probably love. Whom you probably thought of while he was about to kiss you. 

He takes a big gulp from the glass and walks towards his desk. Settling down in the huge chair he opens his laptop, taps on the browser and goes into incognito mode. Typing a specific address and agreeing on using the site on guest mode, he filters out the search criteria. 

Location: Seoul,  Gender: Male,  Age: he thinks hard about it. You don’t seem like the type to go for very older or very younger guys. Given the fact that you are still under 30, he selects the age bar from 20 to 35.  Name: Jungko

Enter. 

There are 5 results that pop up: 

Jeon Jung Kook 

Shin Jung Kook 

Kim Jeong Gguk 

Kim Jeong Guen 

Lee Jung Min 

It’s good that your ex-boyfriend has a distinct name, it makes it easy to find him. The website showed him the most relevant results, so there are 5. But he knows which two he has to work with. 

So, he clicks on the first profile: 

Name: Jeon Jung Kook

Age: 28 

Occupation: Modeling 

Address: Unknown 

Email ID: Unknown 

Website: www.goldenstudios.kr  

Hoseok frowns at that. He has been using this people finder tool for the better part of his career but this ‘website’ section is added only on special cases. Either this jungkook guy is a bigshot or a celebrity. And he doubts if you settle for those types. 

But he clicks on the link regardless. 

His breath hitches upon seeing Jungkook’s face. He is the Calvin Klein model, whose face is in every possible billboard? 

Jesus. Is he really Y/N’s ex? He thinks to himself as he scrolls down the page. 

He can be wrong as well. There is another guy with the same name, so yeah. And he doesn’t really think you would have the mind to put up with a celebrity for three years. 

But something keeps him from exiting the page. He clicks on the instagram icon that is added at the end of Jungkook's bio. 

When the instagram opens, the first thing he tries is to look for your face but he finds none. Then he clicks on a random post and starts scrolling. 

Hoseok stumbles upon a post from a month ago. In the picture a pretty lady is hugging Jungkook tightly. As Jungkook lovingly wraps up her waist with one of his hands, laying his head on the top of her head. There are no captions but a ton of congratulations in the comments. 

So, this guy is already committed. 

Hoseok thinks of the likeliness of this guy being your ex. You said he broke up with you but didn’t mention when. Given the fact that your wounds are still fresh, it might haven’t been that long. And this guy just got into a relationship a month ago. So, he can very well be the Jungkook you were talking about. 

However, still, you dating a celebrity doesn’t sit right with Hoseok. So he decides to exit instagram and investigate the other guy. 

Before exiting, though, he decides to tap on the profile picture to view the recent stories. 

There is a picture of Jungkook, with another strikingly beautiful guy inside a condo. The caption says “happy birthday @j.m” with a tagged location. 

And.. it is the same location Hoseok picked you up from today. You also mentioned visiting a friend just before the session. 

Hoseok’s eyes narrow at the screen as he takes a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“So you left Y/N for the girl in the photo, huh?” He talks to the screen as if Jungkook can hear him. 

“What an idiot you are, Jeon Jungkook.” Hoseok takes a swig from his glass making a silent promise of making you forget your ex.  

Taglist 1:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo @definetlythinkimanalien @lovelgirl22 @agrika

Taglist 2:-

@llallaaa @mikrokookiex @parkinglot-nights @hiqhkey @diamonddia-mond @00frenchfries00 @koalasandcuddles @superchamchi88 @ttanniett @coralmusicblaze @multiasf @kookscumrag @sumzysworld @knjjjk @xtrataerrestrial @survivalistghost @kelsyx33 @aann95 @btsffreader92 @jjk174 @dragonflygurl4 @xwniazx

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to a meta post that was not supposed to exist, but I fucking love answering questions, so here we are.

i got an ask (the answer contains a tl;dr) about why I think Crowley has unstable relationship patterns, and the following will be a detailed look at why this is the case, how Aziraphale plays into it, and what it ultimately means for the two of them.

This won't be as unhinged as my usual analyses, so consider this a special edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner - now hinged.

As always, please remember that this is my personal interpretation—not a generalization—and that genuine questions are welcome, either here on the post or in my inbox!

Everything I will say is based on research I have done, books & studies, and many, many conversations with my therapist (and at points my psychiatrist too); just so you know I'm not making shit up as I go.

Now, in the context of trauma-related/based disorders, what exactly does it mean to have unstable relationship patterns, and how does it apply to Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship?

Canonically, heaven does not care about what Aziraphale is doing and they are not keeping an eye on him. We know this both from references in the script and their dialogue and what we see throughout the show as a whole. That "fear" of being found out should he openly commit to Crowley is, for the most part, self-fabricated.

Yes, hell would potentially punish him (that potentially is another long post), but that is not something Aziraphale gets to take and use against Crowley, and the fact that does it anyway to 'prove' that he is not behaving incorrectly is a big issue.

What that leaves them with is a very common and well-known relationship pattern that requires a lot of self-awareness, control, and work to break it.

Aziraphale and Crowley get closer, spend more time together, their relationship grows and the intimacy increases, resulting in their behaviour changing to reflect that. They go on more romantic-coded dates (e.g. 1827, whatever the fuck 1941 was), eat together more frequently, drink together and feel comfortable enough to get drunk drunk while in each other's company—which always carries the inherent risk of doing something 'forbidden' while their impulse control is lowered.

I think the second episode of season one is actually a great example for all of this. When they drive to Tadfield, there's a mutually respectful conversation, they tease each other, they bicker like an old married couple, and don't fall into blaming the other for the situation they're in. At the manor, they are openly flirting from the start, laughing about the paintball guns and blowing kisses to miracle away stains, and the wall slam scene honestly speaks for itself.

I wrote a detailed analysis of it right here, which contains the conclusion that the entire interaction was intentional and orchestrated by the two of them.

They are doing great, they're comfortable, intimate—both physically and emotionally—and their sides are already on their asses about the apocalypse, so why not commit to the relationship?

Because Aziraphale gets scared, scared of intimacy, scared of what it would mean for his life, scared of what it would force him to confront (his faith, mostly, which is another gigantic topic), scared of the changes it would bring to their relationship, scared of breaking out of the pattern they have been moving in since the very beginning.

So he pushes, hard. He insults and denies and hurts Crowley to get as far away from all of that as possible. Push & pull, no matter when, no matter why, it's always the same.

At this point you might be thinking Alex, this is all on Aziraphale, how is this also Crowley's unstable relationship pattern? The answer to that question can be roughly summarized in one sentence:

He does not punish or discourage Aziraphale's behaviour.

There are NEVER lasting—if any—negative consequences for Aziraphale when he forces them into the push/pull dynamic, when he insults him, denies their relationship, calls him evil, you name it. No matter what Aziraphale does, Crowley always forgives and forgets and comes back to him, essentially resetting their loop. That way there cannot be any progress because they're not moving a single inch in either direction that isn't carefully organized and controlled by Aziraphale.

Why does Crowley not confront him? Because he is scared too.

Now, THIS is the part where I explain why I said Crowley has unstable relationship patterns. It is important to understand that Aziraphale's kind of instability is only one possible manifestation, and that they are—broadly speaking—on opposite ends of the spectrum, which not only makes them incredibly compatible, but also makes them worse.

Crowley is terrified of losing Aziraphale permanently and being on his own. God rejected him, heaven rejected him, hell rejected him—his life as been one traumatic incident after the other with a strong focus on abandonment and neglect, especially from people he cared about.

He says himself that Aziraphale is his only friend, he doesn't have anyone or anything else. The bookshop is Aziraphale's anchor, but Crowley has nothing except the Bentley and whatever Aziraphale allows him to partake in. Hell can take his job, his flat, punish and torture him as they please, and make his life, well, hell.

With the Bentley only appearing in the early 20th century, for 99% of his life he had nothing except for Aziraphale, his best friend, the person he loves.

So what does he do? He clings, he circles him and tries to push his orbit just a tiny bit closer whenever there's a gap he can use, trying to solidify their relationship. Terrified of being abandoned again, he swallows and ignores everything and anything negative.

The final fifteen are the FIRST TIME that Aziraphale asked him for something and he said no without changing his mind later—and it was literally the worst case scenario, the one boundary he has that he is not willing to cross for him, literally the barest minimum.

Every other time he relented, gave in, apologized for something that wasn't his fault, have Aziraphale everything he wanted from Hamlet over shooting a gun at his face to giving him the Bentley. Crowley's primary objective is to do whatever it takes to avoid being abandoned, so whenever Aziraphale DOES push back and abandons him/says that he will, he panics. He panics even more when there is an outside source threatening Aziraphale's presence in his life.

Look at how frantic he is when he finds Aziraphale after the bandstand, trying to say whatever it takes to get him to come with him. He does the apology dance, gives in when it comes to Gabriel, and never reacts to Aziraphale in a way that would prompt him to re-think the choices he is making, let alone stop doing the push/pull.

His identity revolves around Aziraphale, his only relationship is with Aziraphale, he allows him to shape him to his liking as far as he can take and then some, he needs him to be happy, to enjoy himself, to live a life worth living—and Aziraphale needs him to be and do all of those things so he can keep up his behaviour.

They are dangerously co-dependent and just spiral deeper and deeper until they hit rock bottom and are forced to separate.

Look, I have BPD on top of everything else, I have been in a relationship with this exact pattern in Crowley's role, and it is fucking horrible. Absolutely unbearable. My ex-partner was like Aziraphale, pulling and pushing and pulling and pushing but on a daily basis, every few hours. No amount of talking or begging could get them to not behave in a way that would hurt me, and I was so emotionally tied to them and terrified of being alone that just like Crowley, I relented every. single. time. A year and a half and they never, not ONCE, apologized for anything. Ever. Not for hurting me, not for being an asshole, nothing.

The only way I got out was with a lot of therapy, support, and so much emotional work I was having several panic attacks a day because I was so fucking exhausted. Crowley and Aziraphale separating was the best thing that ever happened to their relationship.

Now, Aziraphale is facing negative consequences for his behaviour and is forced to examine himself and deal with all those fears causing him to behave the way he does. Crowley on the other hand is now forced to learn how to exist without Aziraphale to orbit around—he needs to develop an identity that exists outside of Aziraphale, so he can have boundaries and stick to them.

[walpu]

I found a really interesting premise that I think you would execute perfectly. The IPC has established a "mental and emotional health department" basically therapists to help with the stressed out or traumatised IPC worker and it's a mandatory thing to have one visit with them. The reader works in this department and when Topaz, Aventurine and Ratio (separately) went in, all probably thinking it's pointless. Reader proceed to read them like a book to the mineut details of their issues. How would they react? Would they come back for another visit?

thank you so much for your trust, it was actually very interesting to write 🥹

being their therapist

characters - Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Topaz

notes - gn!reader, no romantic undertones, mostly character study

Dr. Ratio

I feel like he would be a bit taken aback at first.

He didn't expect you to go further than a few generic questions about how the latest missions have affected him and suddenly you're asking about his feelings regarding the IPC recurring him.

"Weren't you disappointed? Didn't you feel like your cooperation with the IPC symbolizes you drifting further away from joining The Genius Society? How do you view The Genius Society in general?"

It's a bit too personal for his liking but he has to admit that you are truly an expert in your field.

I can see him rather harshly asking why are you stepping out of the line with your questions since it's hardly concerns the topic of the therapy session. Not because he's too troubled by you seeing through him but simply because of the professional ethics.

When you elaborate that it's the IPC's request to make a full psychological portrait of their workers he just sighs.

His answers are short, he doesn't elaborate much. Sometimes he simply says that the topic you mentioned doesn't affect his mental state in a way that can prevent him from doing his job and leaves it at that.

He doesn't trust the IPC much since he knows better than giving a powerful organization information about his weaknesses. He does feel a certain level of respect towards you and your professionalism though.

Doesn't feel targeted or overly vulnerable even if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to hear his insecurities being acknowledged.

Wouldn't show up again. Mostly because of his distrust to the IPC tho.

Aventurine

Oof.

Both of you will need a drink after that.

There's just so much to unpack really.

If you try to ask him about how he feels almost dying at each mission, he downplays it.

If you ask about his childhood trauma, he shrugs it off.

I don't know how many people saw his interview for anan but everytime he's asked about something personal he brings up how he's actually lucky and hiw he should be grateful. So you get tve spirit.

Doesn't matter what your question is, his answer is the same. He survived, he was loved by his family, all his suffering led him to this, so of course he's grateful what are you taking about ha ha!

Look at his voicelines too, praising the IPC and all that. He gives you this generic answers and hopes you'll buy it.

Well you don't but you also can't force him to answer more honestly.

He himself would be deeply troubled by you reading him like that. He feels weak, defenseless. Like all he has done to protect his inner self was for nothing since you can see through him like that.

0/10 experience he won't show up ever again. Nothing personal against you, he just can't do it. Plus he doesn't trust the ipc either so.

Topaz

Honestly the most normal one.

She will at least try to be honest since she trusts the IPC (maybe a bit too much, which is also a coping mechanism and not the healthiest one, but you can't really call her out on this since you're working for the ipc and, let's be honest, they would not respect their workers' privacy, they WOULD force you to give them their personal information if needed and you don't want to make it worse for Topaz)

She may be a bit taken aback at first but it honestly feels good to talk about her struggles and inner conflicts. And I'm sure she has a lot of those since she's actually trying to do good things, still believing that the IPC can bring positive changes.

Will probably share her experience in Belobog with you.

Will use your meetings as an opportunity to sort out her feelings about her missions.

Has a lot of respect for you personally and actually tries to do some soul-searching to make your meetings more productive.

The only one out if the three of them who would come back

[icyg4l]

Pick-A-Poet: How Can You Heal Your Ancestral Trauma?

Paid Readings

Hello people, thank you for your patience. In honor of Black History Month, I am dedicating a series to Black American icons. This post is dedicated to Black American poets. Below, there will be a quote that was chosen from one of their poems to go along with the reading. The deck that will be used in this series is the Hoodoo Tarot deck. Without further ado, please pick the poet that stands out to you.

***Disclaimer: Some topics may be triggering to whomever is viewing.

Left-to-Right (1-3): Maya Angelou, Countee Cullen, Reneé Watson.

“Love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls” - Maya Angelou, Touched by an Angel.

Cards Used: Three of Coins, Dr. Buzzard, Dem Bones (RX), Mother of Baskets, Ten of Coins, Strength.

Pile One: For those of you that resonated with the quote from Maya Angelou, I have a question for you. You do know that you don’t have to be anyone’s ride or die, right? You are loyal to a fault. But it’s literally within your bloodline to be that way. There could be someone in your family who was scapegoated, falsely accused of a crime or could have went to jail for something that was easily avoidable. I heard, “Make it right. Do what’s best for you.” You could be in the process of making a life changing decision right now but the air is foggy. It’s okay to be selfish, if it means you’ll be led down the right path. You don’t need to follow what everyone else is doing. Your ancestors want you to know that you don’t need to be so hard on yourself either. Compassionate TLC is what you need to give yourself. I keep seeing images of quick weave hairstyles in my head & my head got itchy while I was doing this reading. I think you need to take a break from these & let your scalp breathe. Let yourself breathe in general. For those of you that are darker skinned, there is a female ancestor (grandmother or aunt) that wants you to know it’s okay to experiment with your personal style. I’m channeling Doechii’s energy. You don’t seem to be conventional, they respect it. So don’t be scared to look different. People will always have something to say but your beauty is admired by all.

“Death cut the strings that gave me life, and handed me to sorrow” - Countee Cullen, Saturday’s Child.

Cards Used: Black Herman, Ace of Knives, Nine of Knives, Eight of Coins, Aunt Caroline, Daughter of Knives, Three of Knives, Six of Baskets.

Pile Two: You do know that you don’t have much to worry about, right? Throughout American history, we have seen the documented struggles of Black Americans. With each generation, the next would have one less thing to worry about. Your ancestors want to tell you that you are more privileged than you think you are. You tend to worry about things that are out of your control. I feel that a lot of you could have dealt with unexpected death a lot in the past couple of years, specifically dealing with the lungs/heart. Your ancestors could have a history of heart disease/lung disease. This could have been a family member that you drifted apart from & you feel guilty for it. But there’s nothing that you can do to change the past, my love! What you can do is take care of your physical body. Join the gym. Drink lemon water. Eat when you feel like it & don’t label any foods are ‘good’ or ‘bad’. I heard someone coughing; you should avoid smoking cigarettes & weed as well or really any substance intake. Eat bananas too! You can only control what goes on with I also feel that some of your ancestors could have been hypochondriacs, had OCD or suffered from religious delusions. I would considering talking to a therapist if you feel that you’re headed down that path. Make decisions that are beneficial to your freedom but remember to count your blessings.

“Our bodies, a mosaic of languages forgotten, of freedom songs and moaned prayers” - Black Girls Rising, Reneé Watson.

Cards Used: Big Mama, Miss Ida, Ace of Sticks, Mother of Sticks, Six of Knives and Three of Sticks.

Pile Three: You’ve been saying you’re going to move out of the city you’re in for too long. Get out and stop talking about your plans to relocate. Your ancestors don’t think that there is anything there for you anymore. Your family could have lived in this city for decades but it’s changed so much that you don’t even recognize it anymore. Some of you could be from the East Coast, specifically Philly or Baltimore. You need to get out before you talk yourself into circles again. Some of y’all could be in school about to finish up a degree; keep going. A grandmother spirit is so so so proud of you. Before you relocate, take some days off to visit so that you can see what this new city is like. Many of your ancestors were not able to make plans and go through with them because of unfortunate life situations. Teen/unexpected pregnancy, severe mental illness and/or murder could have been factors that prevented them from following their dreams. If teen pregnancy runs in the family, you should acknowledge this as a fear of yours so that you can make smart decisions in regard to sex rather than making costly choices. Also, practice safe sex with a partner that is equally as conscious as you. Your ancestors want you to know that you can accomplish anything you put your mind to. You have bright ideas and you should share them with the world. Be confident in your spotlight. You deserve to take up space.

[stardewsnail]

Can you write head cannons of how the bachelors would react when jealous? Perhaps they heard their farmer was giving gifts to other bachelors. Can be NSFW. K love you byeee

This is a bit inconsistent because of how familiar I am with them/how interesting I thought their reactions would be–some of these are head canons and some of them are drabbles. Somewhere along the way I realized I switched from they/them pronouns to she/her so I guess this is about a fem farmer now lol–hope you enjoy! 

Bachelors get jealous 

MINORS DNI; cw: sexual activity, jealousy, sad boi hours

Shane 

- very different if he’s with the farmer or not bc I feel like he’s used to being envious of others 

- When he sees the farmer bringing Elliot a bottle of wine or Sam a cactus fruit he feels like he has no valid reason to be jealous. He’s just embarrassed and ashamed of his own feelings.  

- Like, obviously the pretty, successful, kind farmer isn’t going to be interested in him? He’s working at the Joja mart and drinking away his money—he’s barely keeping it together and he comes with a kid. Not exactly the biggest catch

- After the cliffs he had come to terms with his crush and is just sort of leaving it because he cannot imagine her reciprocating his growing feelings. That’s fine, he loves having her in his life regardless. He doesn’t have the expectation that they’ll ever return his feelings and that’s okay. He gets a therapist and focuses on getting better for himself and the others in his life

But if they’re together it’s different

- He retreats into himself and has a bit of a mental spiral (ranging from “it was bound to happen eventually” to “oh god our chickens are going to come from a broken home”) 

- Fortunately he has a therapist to work through things with so he’s able to actually express himself to the farmer in a healthy way and receive the emotional validation that the farmer does in fact love them and their chickens will grow up with parents who love each other 

- He’ll pull her onto his lap or against his chest and if the vibe is right the cuddling might turn into a make out session which might get handsy—Shane is extra needy after all this, lingering through the motions. After sex he stays inside her for a minute, just sharing breath and being as close as possible

- Shane alternates being big and little spoon don’t @ me 

I feel like Shane having a therapist pulls a lot of the “drama” out of him being jealous because he’s so focused on developing healthier coping strategies so him talking about his feelings directly is a big step!

...

Sebastian 

Pre relationship

“Motherfucker-!” Sebastian snarled, watching his avatar die yet again. In his headset Sam groaned, quickly meeting a similar fate. Abigail, now left alone, didn’t fare much better. 

“Okay, it’s 4, I’m calling…” A yawn cut through Sam’s words, “….it.” 

Sebastian winced, glancing at the clock, “Damn—yeah. Night, guys.” It was stupid late. He was going to regret this tomorrow. No, actually, he was already regretting it. Now he was just pissed at the game and at—he shoved that thought down, feeling heat rise to his face. He dropped heavily onto the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. His head hurt. 

And he really didn’t want to deal with the bolt of anger that shocked him when he saw Alex throw his arm around the farmer. Her face was lit up with laughter as they shared some joke—the jock had only touched her for a moment and sure, it might not actually mean anything—but he was jealous. And even a solid nine hours of league had done nothing to subdue the feeling that boiled in his chest. It wasn’t even like the farmer didn’t talk to him either—and while she brought everyone little gifts, he’d had the thought that maybe his were special. A foolish, hopeful thought. Alex was outgoing, athletic, and only still lived at home to care for his grandparents. Sebastian was a twenty-four year old college dropout living in his mom’s basement filling his time with gaming. God, he really was a loser. Fortunately he was unconscious before he really had to deal with that. 

… 

Knock, knock, knock

Sebastian groaned, burrowing farther under his pillow. His mom always woke him up when she made breakfast even if he wasn’t actually required to get up. Maybe later he could ask her what she knew about the farmer. He was pretty sure she was still working on upgrading their coop anyway. It wouldn’t be an odd question. He rolled over, trying to relax back down into sleep. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the second knock sounded. If he ignored it, chances are his mom would leave him be. But then she knocked again, a little harder this time. He swore under his breath as he hauled himself out of bed, not bothering to hit the lights before throwing open the door with more force than strictly necessary. 

The farmer’s hand was still raised to knock and she froze, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. 

Sebastian’s entire brain blue-screened. It crashed. It attempted to restart. It failed. It tried again but all that came up was how he must look—an old band t-shirt, unbrushed hair, stubbled chin, frog-print boxers—holy shit he wasn’t even wearing pants.  

“Good morning!” She said, cheeks pink. It certainly wasn’t morning, that much he knew.  Sebastian wished the floor would swallow him right then and there. “Sam said you guys were up late playing games so I brought you this,” she held up the coffee in her other hand, “Robin said I was fine to come down, I didn’t think you’d be asleep, sorry—“ 

“I needed to get up anyway,” he said, a bit too fast. He ran his hand over his hair, trying to judge its state and was quickly dismayed. Fuck, she was pretty. Great impression Sebastian. Great job. 

“Thank you,” he added, finally accepting the warm paper cup. 

“I started growing coffee beans a while ago,” she continued, fidgeting and definitely noticing his lack of pants, “This is the first of it. Let me know how it is, I’m still experimenting with roasting.”

“Oh wow,” he took a sip realizing not only was the coffee delightful, she’d also added cream and just a touch of sugar–exactly how he took it, “This is really good. Thank you.” 

She lit up, “Oh good! I was hoping you’d like it.” She was hoping he’d like it? Him specifically? The caffeine hadn’t hit him yet, but the taste of coffee still got his brain moving. He noticed the fishing pole sticking out of her pack.

“Are you headed to the lake?” he asked, before he could really think it through.

“Yeah–I wanted to do some fishing,” she rocked on her feet, “I’ll let you get back to it–”

Shit, that hadn’t been his intent.

“D’you want company?” he cut her off, flushing when she just looked up at him with a smile.

“That would be really nice–you can tell me about your game. It sounded fun but I didn’t quite understand when Sam was talking about it.” 

“Great,” he said, “I’ll uh…meet you out there?” He still wasn’t wearing pants.

 Dating 

Sebastian trusted his girlfriend. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that seeing her smile and shyly give Elliot a bottle of her mead had shaken the dust off his old companion, jealousy, and now he didn’t know what to do with the itch in his skin.

He’d spent the day working on his bike, music blasting, a scowl etched on his face. At some point Demetrius had come out to say something, but a glance at Sebastian’s face had him simply turning tail back to the house. 

It was better he got it all out of his system before he met up with the farmer at the saloon. 

Some time and a hot shower later he was entering the saloon, wondering if she had beat him there–and she had. 

And Elliot was there, fawning over the farmer who had a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as the writer told some dramatic story, talking with animated hands. 

He was across the bar in a second, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. The lazy grin he gave Elliot was more a challenge than anything–he didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from–Elliot didn’t seem like the type to pull something but there was a primal need to mark his territory. The farmer was his.  

She flashed him a grin, her hand coming to rest in his back pocket, and finished what she was saying. 

“Hey, babe,” she said, pushing to her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “I got here early–want to get in some practice before Sam and Abby show up?”

“Need a warm up?” he teased, “Think that will help you beat me?”

“One of these days,” she bumped his hip with her own, “I’m gonna win. Talk to you later, Elliot!” she added. Elliot said something in response before slinking back to where Leah was sitting, watching as if this was her very own reality TV show.

...

Harvey

Harvey wasn’t jealous. The farmer was just a friend–she was kind and generous and liked giving gifts! Most mornings she popped by the clinic to bring him a coffee and chat for a few minutes between appointments. 

It was only natural for her to prefer someone less devoted to their work, younger and more aligned with the pop culture she was familiar with. Sam was a ray of sunshine, and seeing him light up when the farmer had offered him a cactus fruit had sent a spike of something that was not jealousy through his chest. 

He spends all his free time for the next few days pouring over his model planes, completing two kits in record time. Between that and the kids in town catching something nasty and viral, he hadn’t even seen her in a week. Which was fine. 

He hadn’t anticipated her to be waiting right outside the door of the clinic, swinging it open as soon as the lock turned. If he had been any slower, she probably would have hit him with it. Her eyes were piercing as she held out the coffee, a small frown on her face.

“Have you been avoiding me?” her words were blunt and heat rose to his face, hands raised as if that would be enough to convince her of his words. 

“No–no, I just–well–” he swallowed, looking anywhere but her face, “You just seemed busy and like you were spending time with Sam and–” She was giving him this small smile that had his stomach turn to jelly, and now he didn’t know what to do with his hands. She held out the coffee. 

“Want to meet up at the saloon later?”

“Yes!” His reply might have been a bit eager,  but he didn’t care because her face simply lit up. 

“Great, it’s a date.” and then she turned out the door, going on her merry way before he could even process her words. 

...

Alex

- to be honest before they’re dating I think he would just AGGRESSIVELY do push ups where the farmer could see 

- or he’ll make a comment about how hot Haley is looking to the farmer

- Either way he tells Haley about “how well he handled it” and she is so, so tired. 

Alex doesn’t care that the farmer went all the way into the mines to find that special rock for Sebastian. It wasn’t even Sebastian’s birthday or anything, she was just nice and he was not bothered. 

He wasn’t bothered when he was doing push-ups.

He wasn’t bothered when he was squating. 

He wasn’t even bothered while doing his deadlifts. 

And while he showered, he totally wasn’t thinking about how she looked so pleased when she showed him the gem, mentioning that it was Sebastian’s favorite.

Now they were sitting on her bed, watching some movie that he couldn’t quite parse over his churning thoughts. He’d been inching closer and closer without realizing, and now he shifted to rest his head in her lap watching her instead of the movie. 

Immediately her hands found their way to stroke through his hair. She smoothed his brow, and he realized he’d been frowning. 

“What’s up?” she asked, ever perceptive. 

“Nothing,” he replied reflexively, and she paused the movie, waiting for him to continue.

“You…like me, right?” His voice was quiet, and if it wasn’t her he would be too embarrassed to ask such a vulnerable question. 

“I love you, actually.” She said it so casually he took a second to process the confession. Her smile was soft. 

Never one for words over actions, he sat up, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

...

Sam 

- I feel like Sam would try to cover any jealousy with a smile and positive attitude but something about the farmer “doting” on Alex and making him baked salmon really bothered him 

- He asks Shane for advice because that’s his work dad/adult and Shane just looks up at the security camera like it’s the office but does try to give advice because he’s fond of the kid 

- His advice is literally just for Sam to make a move because so help him god if he has to head about the farmers eyes one more time 

...

Elliot 

- He’s in denial that he’s jealous 

- I feel like Elliot’s solution to every emotional problem is writing

- He would probably end up projecting it onto his characters writing a scene where somebody is jealous (because he’s not jealous nope. He’s not jealous at all) 

- He’s a little moodier, a little more sardonic and eventually the farmer asks what’s bugging him–he assures her that it’s just difficulty with his novel

- He doesn’t say he’s jealous nope

- He's just gonna go full Gomez Addams and make love to them in a bit of a frenzy—I’m talking a trail of clothes, fucking her right on his desk.

- He’s leaving hickies, the farmer is being claimed 

- The farmer is being RAVISHED 

- He probably won’t bring it up bc he does trust the farmer completely and knows it’s his own anxiety and the farmer more than reassured him on the reg and he can trust that

...

I’m hiding my dumbass notes waaaaaaay down here

I wrote this while zoinked and made up a whole ass bachelor named Mike and sat there for a good min wondering why I could remember anything about Mike, who the FUCK is Mike????

Am I writing Elliot ravishing the farmer on the desk? Yes, but this reply was getting a little long so it’s coming later

I’ve been a little slow on requests lately, but my spouse is going to be out of town for the next month so I should have a lot more time to working on these :) it brings me such joy every time I get that lil notification, thanks y’all <3

[misguidedasgardian]

I need to (10)

... Calm down

MASTERLIST

Summary: Emotions are running high

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: cursing, modern au, underage drinking in some countries, fluff, young adults hornyness, sexual tension. Reader and Cregan... hear things... Might miss some warnings 

Wordcount: 2.9 k

Notes: Very mild chapter, I included a classic trope for this one jeje, i’m committed with the romcom/telenovela type jeje

Sceptics would say that there is no such thing as a friendship between a man and a woman

That the mere beginning of said “friendly” relationship was built in a mutual interest for one another, a carnal interest, and as such, there was no thing as a friendship

And right now…

In your “friendship” with Cregan

You had to agree

He couldn’t stop looking at you, as you were both in photography class

He had agreed to give you space, he had, and you had said you wanted to be just friends, but the thing is, you didn't want just to be friends

You liked him

Aemond had left the state, you knew as much, and he hasn't posted your nude pictures, so, you figured you were safe, for now

This was your home now and even though he had tried to… taint it, he was not going to be able to, you were not going to let him.

You were home, nobody could hurt you here 

You even got an emergency visit to the school’s therapist, and then another the following week, and then another, you were in a good track, it's been only a week and yet, you felt better

The definitive and messy breakup.

The colossal break up, the atomic break up

But you were calm again, with the certainty that you were not going to see Aemond in the near future

That you were finally free

That you were pursuing your dreams 

With only one look to the therapist you felt like you just survived a catastrophe, but that’s the thing, you survived it, this was the calm after the storm

And the damage wasn’t so bad

Because you are still here, in your college, with your friends… your Cregan friend

Now you had a taste for Dornish coffee with cinnamon

“Oh wow, but look at this picture…!”, admired the professor, you looked up and there it was, your face, for everyone to see, projected on the wall, looking straight at the camera, your lips opened just a bit, a coy look on your eyes, looking over your shoulder, the plastic curtains drew diagonal lines over your face, and Cregan had turn it to a black and white picture

You couldn’t believe was you were seeing

That couldn’t be your face

The texture, the feelings in it, the color, or rather, lack thereof

“...You can see the passion! the connection between photographer and subject, this is… something else…”, yours and Cregan’s eyes connected, “this is the ultimate portrait, an ode to a muse…”

Can he see across the darkened classroom how nervous you were? Did he really…?, No… 

He finally changed the photo, but now there was the one you took of him

“And this one, is the ultimate love poem”, he continued criticising your photo, “so sweet, tender, honest…”

The professor got carried away when he was showing the photo you took of Cregan, he looked back at you, marvelled with a wide smile on his face

You looked down, ashamed, nervous

How the hell were you supposed to be friends with a man you wanted to taste cinnamon coffee from?

. . .

You were walking back to your dorm, Cregan insisting in accompanying you

“How are the classes going?”, he asked softly

“Bananas”, you answered, “the midterms are coming and for many are written exams but for me are models, and huge project sheets”, you said apologetically

“That is a lot of work, the ADA is famous for it”, he said with a smile

“Business administration is no cake either”, you said back

“No it isn’t”, he chuckled, “maybe we can all support each other, do some sort of study night, I have to execute a business plan, and I would like some help too”

“Oh what is it about?”, you asked

“Well, first I have to make the plan for the midterm”, he laughed, “and then execute it in the summer”

“Oh, really? you have to make your own business?”, you asked, amazed

“For starters, yes”

“So cool, have you given it a thought about what you’d like it to be?”

“I’d like to implement a plan on saving a dying business with a bunch of growth opportunity”

“Thats sounds incredible”, you said with a smile, “if it includes a remodel of some sort let me know”

“Totally, we’d make a good team” 

The walk back to the dorms was short, just across the park, and you were starting to get close, you saw a bunch of people gathered by the entrance

“But when will it be fixed?”, you heard

“It's freezing!”, said another. You and Cregan shared concern looks

“We are trying the best we can”

“We can’t sleep in there”

When she saw you approaching, Sara walked towards you with a frown on her face

“What’s going on?”, you asked

“The thousand year old boiler finally exploded!”, she growled

“It didn’t explode!”, you heard someone said

“It’s fucking freezing!”, she continued, “we can’t sleep in there”

“Shit!”, you cursed

“Well girls, grab your things, you are coming with me”, Cregan said simply, you looked at him, alarmed

“Really?”, you asked, “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I'm not going to let you freeze!”, he said with a smirk, “besides, that is what friends do…”, was he teasing you? yes he was

Cregan even walked you up to the room, and in a bag you took the essentials, and in a backpack what you were going to need for tomorrow, Sara did the same thing

It was freezing, the kind of that stuck into your clothes, you could actually see your breath inside those stoney walls

The walk was fun, talking about your next midterms and exams, and as soon as you got home, Jace was there

“DUDE THERE YOU ARE! WHY YOU TOOK SO LONG? DID THEY FINALLY SHOW THE PICTURE? SHE REALIZES THAT YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH SO YOU TWO F-…”, Jace showed up in the corner and got quiet when he saw you standing there

“Hey creeper”, you whispered

“Oh, the girls are here!”, he said with a weird smile, Cregan was petrified

“They are”, he said

“The boiler exploded”, whispered Sara with a teasing smile, “roomie”, she teased

“Great, let’s eat”, he muttered

“I’m gonna, cook us pasta”, you declared, “I trust you have the basics?”

“YOUR FAMOUS PASTA?”, asked Jace, “IT'S MYTHICAL!”

“We haven’t eaten it in a while haven’t we?”, you giggled

“What is this pasta?”, asked Cregan

“Pasta with mystery sauce”, chuckled Jace, is going to be awesome

“You just let me do what I have to do”, you said mysteriously, you dropped your bags near the couch and then you went to the kitchen, is the least you could do for the boys to let you stay

You loved eating pasta and is the only thing you learned to cook when you were little, when sometimes your godmother had meetings or small trips

Jace would come to your house, you had nannies and a maid in the house, so you were with more people, but still, you learned how to cook the basics

You were putting a whole package of pasta in the boiling water when Sara sneaked into the kitchen

“I’m sleeping with Jace”, said Sara 

“What? fuck no!”, you said back

“Yeah, I think I wanna fuck him”, she whispered

“NO!”, you said, “we have to sleep together, like last time”

“I don’t wanna”, she said with a sneaky smile,  “Jace doesn’t dare to make the first move so I’m gonna”, she continued, “I’m gonna fuck him”

“More power to you, but I don’t… Cregan is going to think that is weird”

“Believe me he isn’t”, she said, “Jace is talking to him right now”

“It is weird though”, you continued, “Are you and Jace going to… date?”

“We don’t know yet”, she whispered, “we have been sexting since forever”

“Sara…”

“Do me a solid, I NEED to get laid”, she continued

“Promise me is not a rouse for me and Crehan to get together”

“Look, it is a golden opportunity, but I really, REALLY want to fuck your best friend”

“STOP SAYING FUCK!”, you muttered

“I really want to… Ride Jacaerys until his wheels fall off”, you slapped your forehead

“Promise me you are thinking this through…”, you whispered

“I promise”, she said, and then you smiled wickedly

“Mmmm somebody is getting laid tonight”, you teased

“It’s cool, right?”, she asked, her face changed from one second to another, now she looked concerned, worried.

“What do you mean?”, you asked her back

“He is your best friend”, she said quietly

“Yes! that’s why I want you to get together already!”, you mocked, “if you trust me to get with your brother I trust you to get with mine”, she hugged you and you hugged her back

The boys had gotten a University subsidized apartment, there were a couple of building around campus for this purpose, it was, small but comfortable, in a “butterfly” shape, it had two rooms of the same size, shared bathroom, and a kitchen with an open space to the livingroom and diningroom 

You had talked to Sara about getting one next year, together, you were excited 

“I need to make the sauce”, you giggled

“I’ll leave you to it”, she said excitedly walking out of the kitchen, “boys! set the fucking table!”, she demanded 

Soon you were all sitting on the table, munching on the pasta you had made

Jace moaned dramatically

“FUCK! This is even better than the last time”, he said

“Well, I’ve perfected my recipe”, you teased

“This is hands down the best pasta I’ve ever had”, approved Cregan

The truth is you hadn't made it in a while, Aemond didn’t like it 

“Next year, I’m gonna ask you to make this at least once a week!”, begged Sara, you chuckled

While Jace and Sara where sitting on the couch… very cozy… you just came out of the bathroom and were intercepted by Cregan

“I put your things in my room”, he said softly

“Great”, oh you were nervous

“I can take the couch if you want”

“You don’t have to”, you said softly, “If someone should take the couch is me”

“No possible way”, he said, “besides, this is what friends do”

“Is it?”, you teased

“Yes”, he chuckled

“If this is awkward I can sleep on the couch”, he insisted, “I don’t want you to think we… have… to do something”

“I trust you”, you said quietly, “I know you don’t make assumptions”, 

“What kind of friend would I be if I was trying to get into your pants incessantly?”, he asked quietly, gently. You laughed 

This was awkward

You thought, as you laid on the bed next to Cregan, you had placed a pillow in the middle of your heads, you didn’t trust yourself, you wanted him, you did, and even though you asked him for a friendship right the same day Aemond tried to explode your world… now two weeks later you were not so sure anymore

You wanted him

And it didn’t help that you were hearing… noises… sexual noises from way across the apartment

Jace and Sara’s noises

“I’m gonna…”, he muttered, signaling to the TV

“PLEASE”, you begged. The sounds from the television immediately drowned out the… other sounds, Cregan started changing the channels, looking for something to watch, until he found a good ol’ slasher movie

“Perfect”, he said, looking over at you, you smiled

“These are my comfort movies”, you giggled

“Of course they are”, he chuckled darkly, “alongside Unsolved mysteries”

“I put them to fall asleep sometimes”, you laughed, he laughed wholeheartedly 

You watched the movie for a while in silence, but it was a classic, you had seen a bunch of times, and apparently, Cregan did too, as he started getting bored pretty quickly, moving restlessly on the bed

“Well, if we are friends, we should know things about one another…”, muttered Cregan, looking over the pillow. You giggled, but you wanted to humor him

“Alright, ask away, what would you want to know?”, you asked him

“Well, I already know how you take your coffee, so how about, what’s your favorite color?”

“Really?” you teased

“Answer the question”, he said, smiling widely at you

“Well, it’s purple”, you said, “what’s yours?”

“Mmm very regal, mine’s grey”

“Boring”

“But not like half white half black grey, but… the greenish grey, like the colour of old stones of the Literature department”

“Oh yeah, well, that’s cool I admit it”

“What’s your favourite animal?”, you giggled, but gave him an answer, “oh, cool”

“What’s yours?”, you asked back

“The wolf”

“Uh so cool, and very patriotic”

“Very funny”, he teased back

You turned, accommodating to look at him he did the same, now you were just looking at each other, smiling

“I’m sorry”, you whispered

“Why?”, he asked

“For cancelling our date”, you continued, “I was not ok after my ex boyfriend payed me a visit”

“Wait, he was here?”, he asked, “the one who…”

“Cheated on me with my teacher, yes”, you whispered, “he was here two weeks ago”

“What happened?”

“He wanted me back…”, you confessed

“Do you still have feelings for him?”, is that fear? what you saw in his eyes

“No… but he wanted to blackmail me into getting back together…”

“With what…? What does he have on you?”, he got serious all of a sudden, you laughed

“Relax…”, you giggled, “I didn’t committed any crimes, I just…”, now you were concerned, “Well, we were together forever and… sometimes when we were apart, I missed him, and I was horny, and underage and I… send him pictures”, you said, evading his eyes

“He threatened to… release those pictures?”, he asked, concern washing on his face

“He implied it”, you said after a long sigh 

“That’s a felony, if he does something we can sue his ass”

“Yes, he hasn't though, not yet anyways”, you said, “he said some nasty things, made me realise who he really was, someone I couldn’t possibly be with, but, everything got scrambled back up again, me running away, we didn’t really broke up, but, this time it is for good, we are not getting back together, ever”, you said surely

“Like the great Margaery Tyrell said”, he teased, you giggled at him

“Yeah”, you admit, “but that day, I was fucked up, he said some nasty things… and… I got scared, he managed to get in my head, like he always does”

“And now?”, he asked

“Now that he is away, I've come to think about what he said… I’m out of his spell, I know he said those things, and aren’t true, so now I’m better”, you sentenced 

“You don’t ever have to be scared…” he said gently, “I’m here, Jace, Sara, we are all here for you”

“Thank you”, you whispered

“Next time I see him, I will beat his ass”, he continued, “show him some northern hospitality”

“That is the opposite of Northern hospitality!”, you complained, He laughed

“I know!”, he laughed back, and then he got serious, “remember the girl that interrupted us the other night?”

“Yeah”

“She is my ex”, he told you, and you nodded, you had thought about that possibility, “she went to study to the White Harbor, we are both from here, know each other since we were little, and… we thought we could make it work, distance and all, but… she… started dating someone else and practically ghosted me, for months, broke with me over text”

“I’m so sorry”, you whispered

“I did my mourning too”, he said with a shy smile 

“We are in a good track then”, you laughed

“We are”, he chuckled, you felt his gaze on you, is heated gaze, fuck, you needed him, you wanted him, did he wanted you too?

When your eyes connected, you realised it

Yes he did 

You had placed your hand over the pillow that separated you two, and he did the same, grabbing it softly

“I’ll wait for you”, he whispered

“Thank you”, you said back, “I won't be long”, he smiled widely, his beautiful eyes twinkling. You intertwined your fingers, feeling electric currents flying all over your body

You fell asleep like that, holding hands.

The very next morning, you all woke up pretty early, you needed to get to class

WHen you got out of Cregan’s room, Jace was already making breakfast

“Hey” you said with a warning in your voice, it was weird looking at him after… hearing things

“Good morning”, he said with a wicked grin, “Sara is still asleep”

“It was haunting, jace”, you accused with a traumatised look on your face

“Not my fault you and Cregan didn’t make noises of your own…”, and then he smirked, “or did you?”

“No, we did nothing”, you said back, “because our ears were bleeding”, Jace chuckled, “please, ask Sara for a real date”

“I will”, he said with a smile, “relax”

“I’m relaxed”

“You need to get laid”

“Fuck you”

“Want to have breakfast?”, he asked

“I don’t know, did you wash your hands?”, Jace chuckled

“Yes I did”

“Than yes”, you whispered

“You heard about that party next weekend?”, he asked when Cregan walked back into the kitchen

“Just a party in the frat house”

“We have those?”, you asked

“Well, they call themselves that, they are the guys from the football team”, said Jace

“Why don’t you both live there too?”

“They never take freshmen, and… they are fucking animals”

“Yeah living there is not that fun… partying there though…”, Cregan hissed, “that is indeed evry entertaining”

“Can us girls go?”, you asked

“You are girls, so the answer is yes”, mocked Jace

“Great, so after the second heaviest week of our semester, we party”, you said with a wide smile

taglist ❤️

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm @ttkttt @aleemendoza2425-blog @drwstarkeyy @casualfansoul @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bruher @@toms-cherry-trees @happinessinthebeing 

[haruharuz]

Self Therapy; A Note

I've been pondering about this concept for quite a while now. Therapy itself is a wonderful tool to pick your broken pieces up and gently glue them back together- as if they were never broken at all.

However, not everyone has the resources to truly indulge in such tools. So I mulled over the idea of doing therapy almost at home. While it won't be as effective, as far as my personal experience goes, therapists typically give out homework to their patients.

I want to make it clear that because you're doing this kind of thing at home, it is vital to remain cautious. This is not medical advice, just something to consider.

If you do not have the resources to go to therapy, doing a self therapy session every single week could be beneficial, I think. I'm making a little guide on how exactly I personally am choosing to do this.

(●´∀｀●)

Step One: Choose An App

There are many many free apps specifically geared towards mental health. I've used a few, one of which being "WYSA" which I personally enjoyed. Pick one you think would suit you!

I enjoy these apps primarily because they typically have some free form of help. Like breathing exercises, meditation, etc! You can skip this step if you don't feel comfortable.

Step Two: Find Resources Online

You can easily find a lot of free resources online by looking up "therapy worksheet" "anxiety worksheet" "depression worksheet" etc.

Find a couple that you think would suit you to work on for the first week. The more you find, I recommend stockpiling them into a folder! This way, every new session you can either pre-plan said worksheets or grab a couple quickly.

I also highly recommend looking for journal prompts! Especially shadow work journal prompts that help you release certain emotions. You can do this with pen and a notebook or you can use a laptop/tablet for this! If you don't feel secure, password protect documents or hide your journal in a very safe place.

Step Three: Plan your first Session

Identify what you would like to address/work on during the session. Write it down.

Find the worksheets and exercises you want to do, plan them out. It's easier to go ahead and print/write/type them now and put them in a folder with a clear name. (e.g. ST.session1)

Find a day in the week when you know you will have at least one hour of free time. During this one hour of free time, you will be taking the time to do all of your things ! You can do this before bed, in the middle of the day. Just choose a time you think would be best.

I recommend setting a small goal every 1-2 sessions. Remember, goals should be reasonable, attainable, and measurable. Little steps. (For instance, if you struggle with severe social anxiety like I did, you can make a goal "order a coffee one time", but there's many ways to do this)

You can add more to this if you want! Please remember, you can add a face mask and reading a nice book, or other coping skills/self care to this if you think it might help. I recommend choosing things based off on how much time you have and how effective they are at helping you cope. You can also add them all separately to a "self care" day weekly. Up to you.

Example Setup

I'm sharing my personal set-up and plan with you! Some people need visuals <3

This is my folder set up:

as you can see, I have three folders inside a "self therapy" folder!

inside the "journaling" folder, I have three documents that align with the session outline (pictured next) that is in its respective folder. The first one has a journal prompt, the second two are completely blank and only named. They're just sitting there, waiting and ready!

This is my session outline. It includes what issues I'll be addressing and what exercises I'll be doing. Also, the next goal I'd like to work towards. This includes how I plan to do so. I also put a clear DAY and TIME for this session.

This is the worksheet I'll be doing:

And that's all! I'll be following this tomorrow and drinking some chocolate milk and relaxing :3 not too shabby, huh! Don't forget, if you are ever thinking about hurting yourself: call a hotline.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Innocent

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘Who you are is not where you've been, you're still an innocent.’

Bucky was glad for the serum running through his veins when he entered his fifth day without any sleep. He could still feel the pull of exhaustion, the heaviness of his bones and the way his eyes stung with the effort to keep prying them open when they fell shut for too long but the serum made it slightly more bearable.

He knew his therapist would tell him it was unhealthy, that he had to deal with this, find ways to cope. He knew Sam would say he had to talk about it, say that he didn’t mind sitting with him and just let Bucky talk until he felt better but he knew there was no feeling better.

How could he feel better? He was alive and his dreams haunted him each night, viciously reminding him of each person he killed, each person that died by his hands without him feeling a single shed of remorse.

He knew logically that wasn’t him, the fact he couldn’t sleep, the fact he felt sick to his stomach was proof that he did feel guilty but it didn’t matter. It had happened and he had done it, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t fight back against HYDRA, he should have, he should’ve been stronger, he should have stopped them.

Now they were gone and Bucky was left alone.

Truly alone.

Steve had left and even though Bucky had sent him off with a pat on the shoulder, had given the man the approval he needed before leaving, it had killed Bucky. It was the first time he had been in his right mind for longer than he could remember and he was alone, his only connection to a life long gone had left him behind.

The Soldier was no longer in his head either, not that he was torn up about that loss. Some days it felt strange, the Soldier had taken up so much space in his mind, he had been the one in control for longer than Bucky had ever been and now it was empty, quiet. Some days Bucky found himself just standing in a room, expecting the Soldier to take the lead only to remember he was alone now.

It was just him.

Sam had tried to help him but it was no good. Bucky pushed him away, not ready to deal with the reality of his life, not ready to accept what had happened to him. He agreed to see the therapist because he had to but she was no help either. Bucky left their sessions feeling worse than he ever had most days.

Still right now he knew he had to do something, sitting on the floor in the quiet of his apartment, the only light in the room coming from the street lights outside. He needed to get out, he didn’t care that it was late, it’s not like he had anywhere to be in the morning.

It took a great effort to pull himself from the floor but he somehow managed it, heading into his bedroom to shrug on a fresh pair of clothes, knowing he hadn’t changed for longer than was acceptable. He’d need a shower too at some point but couldn’t stomach the thought of it just yet.

The cold air hit him as soon as he left his apartment and he was glad for it when he felt more alert. He had no destination in mind, just picked a direction and let his feet carry him. There were plenty of bars open at this time and as much as he wanted to drink until he passed out he knew it was a useless wish, the serum running through him would barely let him feel a buzz from the alcohol, let alone make him forget anything.

Eventually he came across a small hole in the wall cafe. The lights were still on, a soft orange glow leaking out onto the streets and it was empty beside one man typing away at his laptop and two teenagers with papers scattered across their shared table.

He didn’t know what it was about the place but Bucky let his feet carry him to the door, pausing to take a steadying breath before opening the door.

The first thing that hit him was the warmth, a sudden change for the chill outside, then there was the smell. The smell of baked goods floating through the air made Bucky’s shoulders lose some of their tenseness as he stepped into the cafe and let the door close behind him softly.

The pair of teenagers didn’t look up at the sound of the bell, nor did the man typing furiously on his laptop. The only person who acknowledged his presence was a woman who stuck her head out of a door behind the counter, letting him know she’d be just a minute.

Bucky was content to wait, walking towards the counter and looking at the displayed goods, not too filled but there was a good selection especially considering the time. The place was nice too, it reminded him of somewhere he couldn’t quite remember, a memory just out of reach.

The place had a homely feel to it, soft lights instead of harsh white ones lit the space and the place was decorated in pastel colours that complimented each other nicely with bits of greenery littered around the room. For some reason he felt safe here, it could have just been because nobody seemed to recognize him or maybe there was just something about this place.

“Hey,” A voice pulled Bucky from his thoughts and he shook his head slightly before turning his gaze to you. “What can I get for you?”

The first thing Bucky noticed about you was how beautiful you were. You radiated the same kind of warmth the cafe did, smiling at him like he was a friend you’d known for years rather than a complete stranger, like he wasn’t a deadly killer.

He couldn’t tell if you knew him, most people did whether it was because they’d learnt about Bucky Barnes, best friend to Captain America or they’d see the news stories about the Winter Soldier. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pause, didn’t stare at him or gawk, didn’t take a step back. You just smiled at him as you leaned on the counter top waiting for him to reply.

It had been a long time since Bucky had spoken to somebody who didn’t know what he had done, to somebody who’s immediate first reaction upon meeting him wasn’t to run as fast as they could away from him.

“Um, a coffee please.” Bucky forced himself to say, suddenly aware of how croaky and dry his voice was after going days without talking to anybody.

“Sure thing, nothing to eat?” You asked, the smile never leaving your lips as you moved to start making his coffee for him.

Now that you mentioned it he couldn’t exactly remember when the last time he had actually eaten anything was, his stomach aching with hunger as he glanced back towards the treats with a new found appetite.

“Yeah actually, whatever you’d recommend.” Bucky answered and attempted a smile which he knew came out as nothing but a weak twitching of the lips but it was the thought that counted.

“Well in that case you have to try these.” Your smile morphed into a grin and Bucky couldn’t help but stare at you, feeling his anxiety and fear slipping away the longer he did.

When he finally did manage to pry his eyes away from your smile he looked down to see a plate of muffins that made his stomach long for food even more so than it had before. You set the plate down in front of him and he waited for you to turn back to making his coffee before he picked one up and took a bite.

Just as you turned back to hand the man his coffee you watched as his eyes lit up and he looked down at the muffin like it was the best thing he ever held.

“Good right?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, watching as the man’s eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“They’re amazing.” Bucky praised, the smile hadn’t left your face since you walked out of the back room but he still noticed how you brightened up even more at the compliment, thanking him sincerely before excusing yourself to finish up an order for tomorrow, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.

This was better, loathe as he was to admit it, getting out of the apartment was good. It was easier to ignore the reminders of what he had done, sat in the cafe that radiated warmth and goodness. The quiet noise of the two teenagers talking, the rustling of pages and the repetitive taps of the man’s keyboard, the soft music playing from somewhere in the back were all things he could focus on and he felt calmer than he had in weeks.

“Haven’t seen you around here before.” You said as you came back out into the front of the cafe, talking softly to the man so you didn’t disturb the others in the cafe. “You new to the city?”

“Born and raised here.” Bucky offered after a moment of hesitation. “Been away for a while though, decided to take a walk and found this place. It’s nice.”

“Thanks, it’s my family’s business. I took the night shift to help them out, plus I get to help myself to whatever treats are left over from the day so it’s not a bad gig.” You laughed and watched as the man’s lips pulled into a small smile.  

Bucky didn’t know what it was about you. Since Wakanda, since he was back in his own mind alone without the Soldier, he had found it difficult to talk to anyone, whether it was Sam or his therapist, the few times he had tried to talk to a pretty girl had gone terribly.

But there was just something about you that made it a bit easier to find some words, that made him want to try and say something. The fact that this was the longest conversation he had had with somebody in weeks wasn’t lost on him and he was so glad he had found this place.

You kept up a steady stream of conversation, not put out when Bucky seemed to pause for longer than was necessary before he answered in a low voice, rough for not being used. You were curious about the man but he looked like the world was weighing heavily on his shoulders so you stuck to light conversation, keeping it open enough that he could jump in whenever but not pressuring him to speak.

Bucky didn’t know how long he’d stayed in the cafe but eventually his muffin and coffee were gone, as was the man who had been sitting alone in the corner. He felt lighter than he had in a long time and could feel the exhaustion creeping back up on him even after his coffee.

He figured he should try and get some sleep, hoping that a good outing would be enough to ward off the memories.

“It was nice meeting you!” You smiled when Bucky politely excused himself, finding that you genuinely meant the words. Working in the cafe meant you met all sorts of people but none stood out to you quite like he did.

“Nice meeting you too.” Bucky said, finding it was easier to smile back at you before he made his way home, ready to sleep nightmare free for the first time in weeks.

A few weeks passed before Bucky stumbled his way down to your cafe again.

He had been doing good, ever since he had left you that first night he hadn’t had nightmares, not to say that his dreams had been pleasant but they weren’t keeping him awake for days on end.

Now though he was relieving more and more missions every night, seeing the faces of the innocent people he’d murdered to get to his target, seeing how cold and cruel he was capable of being.

When the bell chimed to let you know somebody had come into the cafe you looked up with a smile that faltered when you saw the man from a few weeks ago. His hair was dishevelled, his skin pale with a light sheen of sweat covering it and his eyes looked haunted in a way you had never seen before.

By the time he had made it to the counter and into the seat he had occupied last time he was here you had forced your smile back onto your face, not letting any sympathy shine through. The man didn’t need some stranger feeling sorry for him, so you wouldn’t give him that instead you could offer him a safe place to let his mind switch off for a while.

“Hey again! I was hoping you’d be back, I just made a batch of brownies and I think I’ve got the recipe just right. You wanna try one?” You asked, jumping right into conversation to hopefully pull the man from his thoughts.

Bucky looked over at you with wide, watery eyes, taking a minute to register what you had said before nodding hesitantly, watching as you busied yourself with fetching the brownies from the back and bringing a few out on a plate.

“You want a coffee to go with that?” You asked and watched him nod again. “Great, I’ll get that ready for you. Honestly, I’m glad you came back tonight, this place has been dead for hours. I suppose the kids have finished with their finals though, you remember those two that were here the other week? Yeah they practically live here but during exam season they take up permanent residence on that table.”

Bucky appreciated how you said nothing about the state he was in, glossing past it like it wasn’t even worth mentioning. He focused on your words, so thankful you didn’t seem to be expecting a response, just filling the silence with words he could follow and grab onto, a grounding link to reality.

Bucky let time pass without acknowledging it, focusing solely on you, listening to you as you told stories of growing up in New York, of growing up in the cafe and all the different types of people that stopped by, telling him about your favourite customers and the rudest ones. He was proud when he managed a few small smiles and even one chuckle but he hadn’t been able to find the strength to speak but you didn’t seem to mind, something that made him feel even more relaxed in this place, even more relaxed with you.

Bucky only pulled himself out of the safety of the cafe when he saw the first signs of the sun coming up, knowing you wouldn’t be around much longer anyway and a part of him felt guilty for having you put up with him for so long.

“Thank you.” Bucky managed to croak out as he stood to leave watching as your bright smile turned soft.

“Thank you, lord knows I needed the company tonight.” You told him and Bucky smiled back at you. “You’re always welcome here, you know?”

“Thank you.” Bucky said again, even though the words were whispered you could still hear how grateful he was for you to have said it.

“See you around.” You said softly, watching him go until he disappeared from view.

Bucky was back again two nights later, still not as talkative but he was able to speak this time around. He shared stories of growing up in Brooklyn trying his best not to slip up and reveal that his childhood was a lot further back than you guessed, trying not to let it slip that the childhood best friend he spoke about was Steve Rogers, Captain America.

You listened intently to everything Bucky shared with you, wanting to know anything he was willing to tell you. You couldn’t say what it was about this man who seemed so down on his luck but you wanted to know everything about him.

Eventually Bucky showing up at the cafe became a regular part of your routines, he showed up more nights than not. Some nights he was silent, just needing you to fill the space with whatever came to your mind and other nights he was like a whole different person, so confident and eager to talk and share parts of his life with you.

It had been months since you’d first met him and you knew you were falling for him, you thought you had been since that first day but now you were sure.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Bucky asked suddenly one night causing you to tense for a moment, a frown spreading across your features.

It was a bad night for Bucky, he’d been here a few hours now and not said much. The cafe was empty, silent whilst you contemplated how to answer but eventually just nodded your head.

“Yeah, I knew who you were the first time you showed up here.” You told him honestly, remembering how shocked you’d been to see Bucky Barnes in your cafe but you had hid it well.

“You should have told me to stay the hell away.” Bucky muttered and you felt your features soften into a sad smile.

“I was never scared of you. You’ve been coming here for months, we’ve been alone together for most of that and you’ve never made me feel anything but safe.” You said, watching as he looked at you in shock before shaking his head.

“Safe?” He spat the word like it was poison. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart ached for the man. You had known a bit about the Winter Soldier before meeting Bucky but hadn’t researched it once you had met him, it felt wrong to do it, you figured when the time came the man would share his story with you if he wanted to.

“I don’t know your whole story but I do know it wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t ask for what those people did to you. I know you’re not the monster, they are.” You told him, voice low and firm causing Bucky to look at you with wide eyes, desperately wanting to believe you but unable to.

“But I should have been stronger.” He whispered, a choked out sentence that broke your heart.

“Listen I can’t even begin to imagine what sort of hell you’ve been through but I do know you, this version of you, the one that you should be so proud of because you aren’t what they made you, who you were is not who you are now. You’ve got so much more to look forward to, a whole life to live as happily as you can, a big fuck you to the people who are hopefully gone.” You chuckled slightly, tears filling your eyes as you took Bucky’s hands in yours.

“Thank you.” Bucky croaked out, his own tears welling up in his eyes as he squeezed your hands gently in his. “Thank you.”

“I’m really glad you found this place.” You whispered to him, smiling shakily at him.

Bucky held your gaze, pulling his hands from yours before making his way around the counter that separated you. His flesh hand came up to your cheek, you willingly letting him tilt your head up towards him as he looked down at you with a soft smile, eyes red from where the tears stung at them.

“I’m glad I found you.” He whispered back, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours.

Your eyes fell closed as you pressed forward, closing the space between you and feeling a rush of warmth run through you as your lips connected. The kiss was soft and gentle, neither of you needing to rush it even though it had been building for months. You took your time, savouring the feeling of Bucky’s lips against yours, the taste of cupcakes and coffee on his lips was intoxicating and you knew you were done for, there was no going back after this, you were all in.

When the two of you pulled away you were both silent for a moment, needing the chance to catch your breath. Bucky’s forehead rested back against yours, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he smiled down at you with you smiling softly back up at him.

“I can’t promise I’m any good at this anymore.” Bucky murmured and you laughed softly. “But I really want to try, if you’ll let me.”

“I like you, Bucky. I already know you have bad days, I want to be there for all of them. I don’t care how hard it is, I want to be with you.” You told him honestly, closing the distance between you again to kiss him softly.

Bucky pulled you close, wrapping his metal arm around you to hold you against him, promising himself he’d get this right. You were right, he was alive and HYDRA was dead, all those monsters wouldn’t live to see another day and Bucky had the chance to live the rest of his life happier than they could ever imagine.

He wanted that.

He wanted that with you.

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Thank you so much for reading!💜

[minghaoyoudoin]

Darling - Epilogue

pairing: mafia boss!hyunjin x mafia boss!fem!reader

genre: some residual angst (very little), smut, sooo much fluff

words: 4.3k

warnings: explicit sexual content, bad language, these two are so stinkin' cute and I'm mad about it (even though I wrote them lol)

a/n: I can't believe this series is finally finished! thank you to everyone who has stuck with it, this au will always have a very special place in my heart. I hope y'all enjoy reading, please leave a like and reblog if you do!

part one here!

part two here!

part three here!

part four here!

You stared blankly into the mirror, taking in your appearance. To anyone else, you were certain you looked the same. Your eyes the same shade, your hair the same length, the small scars decorating your body still ever-present. But you could have sworn there was a newfound glow to your skin–a careful hope in your expression that never would have been there before. And, of course, there was the ring now glittering on your left hand.

Despite what anyone said, there was a freedom that came with revenge. An emptiness, too, though you weren’t keen on evaluating that sadness just yet. Even if you wanted to, the man who had just entered the bathroom door behind you chased any thoughts of it from your mind.

A sly smile crept across Hyunjin’s face when he saw you. His eyes roved over your body, drinking in the bikini you wore through the mirror. He strode forward as if he couldn’t quite help himself, his hands ghosting across your skin while you leaned into his bare chest. He, too, was dressed for the beach, his hair already crusted with seawater and wavy around his face.

Fiji looked incredible on him. You had only arrived here a few hours ago and his skin was already flushed with sun, the salty sea air making his lean muscles glisten with sweat. You couldn’t get enough of him.

You leaned further into his chest, allowing your head to rest on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We made it,” you said, your voice no more than a sigh. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, directly over the small scar where Mr. Chae’s blank had once fired.

He turned you in his arms so you faced him. You ran a fingernail over the long vertical scar in the center of his chest, the only physical evidence either of you had of that night. The scar had faded over the past four months, though it was still rosy and puckered compared to the skin around it. Hyunjin insisted it didn’t hurt, but you still found yourself being unconsciously gentle when you touched the area. He was completely healed now, aside from the mental wounds left on both of you.

You would never forgive Jihyo. It didn’t matter that she was gone–she had paid the blood debt she’d earned by murdering your father. Somehow, though, you felt that she had left this earth without atoning for attempting to murder Hyunjin, too. It was an itch you couldn’t quite scratch, but your therapist–one Felix had insisted you get–said the feeling would lessen with time. You weren’t so sure, but it didn’t hurt to hope.

Hyunjin seemed to notice the direction your thoughts had taken, because his gaze softened as he ran his thumb over your jaw. “I’m right here, Wife.”

You smiled despite yourself. “I can see that, Husband.”

“What do you say we blow off going back to the beach?” Hyunjin kneaded your ass in his hands, pulling your hips flush against his. Your skin flamed. “I think the guys will be fine building sand castles without us.”

You pretended to consider, pointedly ignoring the half-hard length you felt poking your lower stomach. That was how it always was, nowadays. Hyunjin had accepted your “no sex” challenge all those months ago, obviously convinced you would break before he did. You hadn’t. Even after the doctor had cleared him for sex, both of you had been too painfully stubborn to crack first. It made for a lot of cold showers and restless nights.

Now, the evening of your wedding day, the challenge had officially come to its end at a draw. Hyunjin had a half-crazed spark in his eye at all times, looking prepared to jump your bones at the drop of a hat. You were a little surprised he hadn’t bent you over the second the officiant declared you husband-and-wife.

At your silence, Hyunjin looked close to vibrating out of his skin. You shook your head coyly. “I want to go back to the beach. Lee Know and Seungmin will kill each other if we’re not there to mediate.” Your husband threw his head back and unabashedly groaned.

“Fine. I live to serve you, Viper Queen.” You swatted Hyunjin’s shoulder and he pretended to look wounded. He palmed himself through his swim shorts, grimacing. “I’m almost convinced you’re trying to finish what Jihyo started.”

“Not funny,” you griped.

Hyunjin threw his arm around you, grinning by way of answering, and led you out of the beach cabana the two of you had rented for your honeymoon. You greedily inhaled the warm air, scented with salt and brine, as you walked towards the water. Your residence was on the beach itself, much to your delight, and the second you stepped outside your toes squished between fine grains of white sand.

Just out of reach of the waves, indeed building sand castles, were Hyunjin’s Family. Your Family, you mentally corrected yourself. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face. Your heart felt full to bursting at the sight of them, the air filled with competitive shouts and screams when one of them sabotaged other castles.

You didn’t mind that Hyunjin’s inner circle had accompanied the two of you on your honeymoon. They were, after all, his personal protection detail, and yours now, too. Then there was the fact that they were your best friends, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of telling them that.

You and Hyunjin weren’t acknowledged as you settled on the sand a few meters away, you between his legs with your back pressed to his front. Jeongin, foregoing stealth altogether, sprinted to Seungmin’s sand castle and kicked a turret over with a screech of joy.

Seungmin’s head whipped in your direction, his eyes wide with rage. “Did you see that?” He leapt to his feet and Jeongin only had a moment to look panicked before he turned and ran. “I am going to KILL YOU!”

Your laughs mixed with Hyunjin’s, low and warm in your ear. It was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard. You settled further into your husband, still not able to quite wrap your head around the word.

You’d made it. Both of you. Not only were you in Fiji, the place you had spoken of as an impossible dream for years, but you were married. No longer enemies, no longer king and queen of rival empires, but the royalty of one. Your fathers, for all their sins and flaws, rested easy in their graves.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hyunjin murmured in your ear. You shivered when his warm breath tickled your scalp, raising goosebumps.

“I’m thinking that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” you said without hesitation. “I’m thinking that our friends are idiots, but I love them.” You tilted your head to the side so your lips ghosted across his. “And I love you.”

He shuddered lightly. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”

“GET A ROOM!”

You jumped but didn’t move away from Hyunjin at Changbin’s abrupt exclamation. You smiled into each other, certainly looking like a pair of lovesick idiots to everyone around you. It didn’t matter.

You were here, in Fiji, and for the first time in your life, you believed everything was going to be okay.

~~~

Seungmin, despite Jeongin’s attempt at sabotage, won the sand castle contest. He’d done a victory dive into the ocean, the rest of them following suit, while you cackled and took pictures. You stayed at the beach until dusk, watching the sunset with your Family and eating soggy sandwiches and fresh fruit until you were full to bursting.

The rest of the boys waved goodbye and offered parting hoots and suggestive hand movements when you separated for the night. They were staying in the cabana attached to yours, all seven of them crammed into the three bedroom house for the next two weeks. The only one who didn’t look elated about it was Lee Know.

You released a nervous breath when Hyunjin closed the glass sliding door behind you, blocking out his friends’ antics. You just stared at one another for a long moment, basking in the wonder of the moment.

“Convincing me to marry you wasn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me, was it?” You joked tightly. You had no idea why you were so nervous–it’s not like you hadn’t done this countless times with him before.

Hyunjin smiled, as always seeing your humor for what it was, and jokingly rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes, you’ve caught me. I still hate you and I’m going to kill you while I’m inside you.”

Your mouth dried slightly at his words but you snorted. “You’d have to catch me first.”

Both of you froze. You hadn’t intended to challenge him. You immediately caught your misstep when Hyunjin’s eyes darkened, a slow smile spreading across his face. Your core tightened, both with nerves and excitement as he ran his tongue over his full bottom lip.

“Run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned and bolted, an exhilarated giggle breaking from your chest when you heard Hyunjin’s footfalls pursuing you. You sprinted around the corner into the hall, nearly knocking a painting off the wall with your shoulder. Hyunjin was giggling too, the sound sweeter than any song you’d ever heard.

You catapulted into the bedroom and, though ending up in that location wasn’t completely intentional, Hyunjin snorted knowingly anyway. You scrambled over the massive bed until you were on its opposite side, bracing your hands on the mattress as you and Hyunjin stared at one another. You were both panting and out of breath from the chase, wide smiles of equal intensity gracing both of your faces.

You feinted to the side as if you’d try to run around the foot of the bed, taking advantage of Hyunjin’s lunge to climb across the mattress again. Unfortunately, despite your flawless battle tactic, Hyunjin didn’t fall for it. He caught you around the waist as soon as you were within reach, effortlessly pulling you down with him until you were flat on the covers, his body half-blanketing yours.

He gazed down at you, grinning and as out of breath as you were. Your breaths calmed, though your smile didn’t fade as you gently trailed your fingertips across Hyunjin’s cheekbone. His skin was smooth and warm, a pretty blush staining his cheeks.

By the time he kissed you, your nerves had quieted. You kissed him back at a languid pace, neither of you battling for dominance or fucking the other’s mouth like you usually did. This kiss was sweet and loving, a promise for a thousand more kisses like it over the decades to come. For once, the thought of spending the rest of your life with Hyunjin didn’t terrify you the way it once did.

Your skin heated against his, your peaked nipples scraping against the material of your swimsuit. You whined quietly when Hyunjin palmed your breast, simultaneously rolling his hips against your core. Your fingers dug into his ribcage then drifted down to his hips, urging him to increase the pace.

After nearly six months of celibacy, you thought you would go insane with your need for him. Hyunjin seemed to share the sentiment, because he loosed an unrestrained moan into your mouth when your hand snaked between you to palm his clothed length. He was already fully hard, an observation which sparked smug pleasure in your chest.

“Not going to run away this time?” He teased against your lips. His tone was strained, shaking with his need to feel you squeezing around his cock. If he wasn’t in your mouth or your pussy in the next five minutes his brain was going to melt out of his ears.

You just moaned instead of verbalizing a response, mostly because the sane part of your brain had already clocked out for the evening. You were going mad with need.

You rolled so you straddled him, pleased by the adoring look on his face as he gazed up at you. Your fingers found the tie at the back of your bikini top, taking your sweet time pulling it loose. Hyunjin growled low in his throat, an obvious command to hurry the hell up. You smiled to yourself as your top fell from you, baring your breasts to him. He wasted no time sitting up so he could suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You both groaned in unison, you at the sensation and he at the taste of your skin.

You ground your hips in slow circles on his lap while he doted on your breasts, switching between them when he felt compelled to do so. He thrusted up against your heat, eliciting moans from your chest. You were already cresting dangerously close to your orgasm and he hadn’t truly done anything yet.

You gently pushed him into a lying position by his shoulders and moved down his body, enjoying the way his eyes focused hard on your every movement. His pupils were blown so wide with lust that only a thin sliver of brown remained. You pressed openmouthed kisses to the skin between his navel and waistband, his knees, the inside of his thighs–you left a love bite anywhere your lips made contact.

He lifted his hips off the bed so you could slide his swimsuit down his legs and his hard cock sprang free, his arousal already gathering at the tip in thick beads. Your inner thighs clenched together, slick enough that you doubted he’d need to prep you at all before he fucked you. Just the thought of the stretch made you dizzy. You were somewhat surprised the two of you had made it this long without exploding.

You experimentally swirled the tip of your tongue across his head. Hyunjin’s hips jerked at once and he released a vulgar moan. He looked so pretty with his eyes screwed shut, his face and chest flushed, that you couldn’t help but moan lightly yourself. You wasted no more time before you wrapped your lips around his cock and hollowed your cheeks.

His fingers tangled in your hair, and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to make you go faster or stop you as you bobbed your head on him. Hyunjin moaned senselessly, his balls already spasming in your hand every few seconds. Each sound he made fueled you to go faster, harder, so intent on making him cum that you could think of nothing else. You willed your throat to relax and ignored your gag reflex with a vengeance when his cock slipped in deeper.

Yet, for old times sake, you released him just as his orgasm threatened to break. Hyunjin didn’t seem surprised, but it didn’t stop him from loosing a frustrated groan when your mouth rose off his cock with a lewd pop. You smiled lazily up at him as he glared down at you, his chest heaving. Even if you didn’t know him so well, you would have known he was close by the tremor in his limbs alone.

You pressed a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Color, Mr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin yanked you onto the bed with enough force that you yelped. You were beneath him in less than a second, his body half-blanketing yours. He shoved your bikini bottoms down your legs and split you with two of his fingers, sinking inside you to his knuckles. You clenched around him instantly, so ready for him that you saw stars the second his fingertips brushed against your g-spot.

He let out a shuddering breath into the shell of your ear at the feeling of you around his fingers. “Green, Mrs. Hwang. And you?” He thrusted his hand for emphasis, his thumb pressing gently on your throbbing clit. You captured his mouth with your own in answer. He didn’t reprimand you for not answering verbally–he was too far gone with desire to bother. Hyunjin just moaned into your mouth at your eagerness, his tongue exploring yours with the hunger of a man starved.

His fingers increased their pace, pounding into you hard enough that all you could do was yelp. Your leg hooked over his, your hand clasped hard around the back of his neck for stability. He watched your face through heavy-lidded eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering each time you reacted to his movements.

You were lost in sensations. At some point you stopped kissing him, instead pulling him until his forehead pressed against yours. Your lips still touched as you panted into one another’s mouths, catapulting so quickly towards your orgasm that you could barely open your eyes.

“Gonna cum?” His taunting question was weakened by his breathlessness. He was completely enamored by you, by every change in your expression and sound that came from your pretty lips.

“Yes yes yes, please don’t stop–” you chanted. He obeyed, his hand thrusting into your center at a pace that had your knees shaking. His thumb drew tight circles over your clit, knowing exactly the way you needed without having to tell him. Hyunjin was so focused on your pleasure that he didn’t think to edge you as you had him. Instead, he moaned with you as your high crested over you in a merciless wave.

You clenched hard around his fingers, your arousal coating his hand. He didn’t slow his movements, rather attempting to work you through your orgasm as long as he possibly could. After months without this, without him, your body felt like it was consumed by fireworks. He whispered rough praises into your ear as you came down, his hand at last slowing in time with the fluttering of your walls.

The second you were able to form a coherent thought you crushed your mouth against his. Even after the orgasm he had just gifted you, you were nowhere near done. He made a surprised noise into your mouth as you rolled, stopping when you were straddled across his hips.

He traced a gentle finger across the curve of your breast at the same moment he licked the fingers on his other hand clean of your arousal. He held your gaze until every last drop of you was gone. You shuddered, certain your face was dark with lust by the gleam of anticipation bright in Hyunjin’s eyes.

You ground your hips in hard, slow circles over Hyunjin’s cock. Between his wetness and yours, his length slid easily through your folds. You groaned in unison as you rocked back and forth, his tip barely catching in your entrance on each pass. When at last you couldn’t take it anymore, you lifted so you could fit his head into you.

He gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place above him. “I’m not going to last long,” he admitted shyly, his voice shaky. You offered him a predatory smile, allowing your intentions to shine on your face.

You slammed down onto him before he could say anything else. Hyunjin’s head kicked back into the mattress, releasing a whine that had your walls clenching again. You stilled, your muscles locking from the shock of taking all of his impressive length so quickly. Neither of you could manage to speak, silently attempting to adjust to the fit without cumming too soon.

When you’d reached your limit, you said through clenched teeth, “Color?”

“Just–” Hyunjin gasped, his eyes closed “–give me a moment.” If you so much as breathed wrong he was going to cum. Somehow, over these months, he’d managed to forget how incredible your tight warmth felt around him.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Hyunjin exhaled deeply. “Green, baby. Do your worst.”

Thank god.

You lifted until just the tip of his cock was inside you and slammed back down, the stretch making both of you gasp. It didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated, thankfully, and that realization was the only permission you needed to let go. You rolled your hips on him faster, harder, tight whimpers escaping your throat with every stroke. You trailed your hand over the scar on Hyunjin’s chest, pleased at the goosebumps that rose on his skin from the contact.

Hyunjin couldn’t seem to get a grip on himself. He jerked and moaned beneath you, seeming torn between closing his eyes and watching your breasts bounce above him. He sat up abruptly, his hands holding your ass while his mouth found your nipple. He sucked hard, as if to ground himself to reality, and you tugged harshly at the roots of his hair.

He effortlessly flipped you over without removing himself from you. The pace he began was ruthless, far swifter than the one you had set a moment ago. You raised your knees until they were nearly pressed against your chest, allowing him deeper between your walls. Hyunjin’s head fell into the junction between your neck and shoulder, and you groaned when you felt his teeth lightly clamp down onto your skin.

His hips began to stutter, their rhythm losing their usual grace. You grinned at the ceiling, your nails digging harshly into Hyunjin’s shoulders. “That’s it, baby,” you breathed, your impending orgasm taking your breath away. You chased it with lethal focus, your need to cum shuddering through your entire body. “Cum, pretty boy.”

Hyunjin groaned heavily into your hair, raising chills on your scalp. His body locked and he froze, unable to continue thrusting as his high raged through him. The sensation of his cock pulsing inside you pushed you over the edge. You came together, each twitch and pulse only drawing it out longer. He began to lightly thrust again, using your heat to draw every last drop of cum from him.

You tried and failed to catch your breath, tracing the lean muscles in his back as he gradually relaxed on top of you. Hyunjin’s weight was comfortable, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck.

You winced when he removed his softening cock from you, predictably mourning the sensation of being full the second it was gone. Hyunjin gazed down at you with nothing short of adoration on his beautiful face, his cheeks reddened and hair sex-crazed. You smiled softly, allowing your fingertip to trace the shape of his jaw.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Hyunjin kissed you gently, reverently, as he drew you into a sitting position. “And I you.”

He left the bed to retrieve a warm washcloth and some water. His process of cleaning you up was just as sensual as his foreplay, a fact which had you aching for him again far too soon. You shared the water, giggling like children each time you made eye contact.

Hyunjin sighed contentedly as he curled around you, pulling you snugly against his warm chest. You allowed your eyes to fall closed beneath the weight of him, pleased at your ability to relax in his presence.

“We just had sex in Fiji,” you giggled. It still seemed so surreal to you. What you had thought to be your life’s mission was over, and you had come out the other side unscathed and with a husband, of all things. All that was left in front of you were possibilities.

Hyunjin chuckled in your ear. “And we will again.” He pinched your ass for emphasis, eliciting a small squeak from you.

It seemed impossible that the two of you had survived so much in such a short amount of time. You were sure that there would be more dangers to come, given the sort of life the two of you led, but the thought of them didn’t scare you as they once had. Whatever life threw at you, you no longer had to face it alone.

Hyunjin’s Family had a saying, one that meant the Hwang legacy would survive even after the world turned to ash around them. You were the Viper Queen, one of the last surviving members of your bloodline, and you were fiercely loved by a man who stroked the embers in your soul until they turned to flame.

Yeah. You were going to be just fine.

Hyunjin’s lips ghosted across your temple like his thoughts were in line with yours. You turned your head so you could look at him, all too aware your eyes were glistening. His gaze softened as he returned your small smile.

“I’m very glad you’re not dead,” you said quietly. Hyunjin had said something similar once, after you survived your encounter with Mr. Chae. Only now could you understand the overwhelming relief he must have felt back then when you lived.

“So am I. You’re terrifying when I’m not here to check you.” His tone was teasing, though he certainly wasn’t wrong. You were a force to be reckoned with on your best days.

You laughed. Randomly, you remembered that your bedroom bordered the cabana your friends stayed in next door. Hyunjin followed your gaze to the wall and he grinned.

“Think they heard us?” He joked, pulling your body further into him. You both jumped in surprise at the two firm knocks that sounded on the other side of the wall. There were several long moments of shocked silence.

You both dissolved into giggles. They had most definitely heard. Embarrassment surged through you in a rush, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could only imagine how red Felix’s face was right now.

It didn’t matter. You were happy, and you had earned it. Through heartache and pain and struggle, you had battled your way to this moment. Your giggles finally subsided and you stared at Hyunjin, basking in the way he gazed back at you. He was yours, as you were his, and no one in the world could take that away.

“Until the ashes,” you murmured. Hyunjin looked near-glowing with happiness. He pressed another fierce kiss to your brow.

“Until the ashes, Mrs. Hwang.”

they finally got their happy ending 🥹 thank you again for your support during this series, please leave a like and reblog if you enjoyed reading!

masterlist here :)

© minghaoyoudoin 2022 - all rights reserved. reposts/translations not allowed. I do not assume to know the personal lives of the idol(s) depicted in this fic, this is for entertainment purposes only!

taglist: @midnightchanis, @aerastus, @a-person-with-void, @xhazmania, @coquette-amor, @lenfilms, @cyder-puff, @mongnara-deactivated20220818, I'm sorry to those of you it wouldn't allow me to tag!

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Maybe a task force 141 x reader where they cheat? And like we move on and they regret it?

A/N: This hurt writing lol, cause its so hard to picture any of these men cheating and I've been cheated on so it was interesting writing it. I've also added Alejandro / Rodolfo since I didn't want to repeat myself.

I wrote this at work so I’m sorry if it sucks

Info:

Cheater!Johnny x Reader x Simon

Cheater!Philip Graves x Reader x Alejandro.

Cheater!Gaz x Reader x Price.

-Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish-

A drunken mistake, that’s what it was. Something that never should have happen. He knew he shouldn’t have drank so much, all of his inhibitions always go out the window when he drinks.

He didn’t remember picking the girl up, didn’t remember sleeping with her either. What he did remember was the look of heartbreak on your face, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you screamed and yelled at him.

That happened a year ago and he had hoped you both could see a therapist though when he returned from a mission you things were gone and the diamond ring was on the counter top and then he saw you again, a year later. It was an accident really, he was on a mission in Manchester, some undercover bullshit and he saw you. You looked good, you looked happy.

Much better than he last saw you, but you were standing with a man. Someone's who back was to him, he had wished he never went to investigate, that he could just let things be but he was just to damn curious.

It felt like a punch to the gut seeing you with him, with Ghost. His 'brother', he didn't even know how you to could have met. I mean he did know you moved, maybe you ran into the stoic man but then why him. He didn't even think Ghost liked anyone, that he could even be in a relationship but he could see it. In the man's eyes that he loved you, the faint smile on his face.

Though of course it was obvious that the man loved you when he wasn't even wearing anything to cover his face. Biting his lip he turned to leave, catching Simon's eyes at the last moment. The two shared a look.

'Don't break her heart, don't make the same mistake I did' Johnny pleaded through his gaze.

'I won't.'

Turning his back to you both he felt a pain in his heart hearing your laughter ring throughout the store. While this was something he knew he would never get over he did know that he could be happy for you, you were with someone who was going to treat you right.

+•+

-Philip Graves-

He hadn't meant to cheat on you, you both had gotten into a fight and not thinking on the matter he went out and fucked some random woman. It would have been easy to hide but of course you found out, someone must have let it slip and of course you ended things like any rational human would.

He tried to blow it off, think of it as it didn't matter. You'd come back eventually, but then you didn't.

You didn't answer his calls, you even requested to be transferred to the 141 task force and that's how you met him. That smug jackass, Philip didn't even want to know how you ended up in a relationship with prick and how he found out that you were together was something he wanted bleached from his mind.

Alejandro had you pined to the wall, one of your legs wrapped around his hips as the other was in his hair. Whimpers escaping your lips, he had half a mind to shoot the prick though he'd settle interrupting the intimate moment.

"You two can get off on your own times, we have a mission to do."

Gritting his teeth he stalked off, he was going to take pleasure in killing the bastard and right now he didn't care if it was going to cost you your happiness.

+•+

-Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick-

Never in his life Kyle thought he would be the one to cheat. It made him sick to even think about it but then someone from his past came to see him and one stupid kiss later he had no choice but to tell you.

Gaze did his best to explain that it meant nothing but then of course if it meant nothing then he wouldn’t have kissed her in the first place. You had every right to end things, he had expected you to cry, break down but you did nothing.

It was the silence that broke him, the look of hurt on your face as you turned you back to him. He knew you were hurting, that you were just hiding your emotions so he did he thought anyone would do. He went to his Captain, which turned out to be one of the things he had come to regret.

He did not know when you started your relationship with Price, he didn’t know how but the fact that his Captain was dating his ex, it was hard to figure out his emotions.

“I did not mean for it to happen.” John explained, he didn’t have too, he did not owe the man shit but he still had to tell him.

“I know that sir…just please..you’ll take care of y/n right?”

What kind of question was that, of course John would.He had heard from your siblings that you were happier, you smiled more, you were finally getting that light back in your eyes but he still had to ask, he had to hear him say it.

“Of course I will.”

[septicwriters]

What I think your favorite ego says about you!

Dark: You are one of two things: you are cool, calm, and collective or, batshit wild. Regardless of which, when you snap, YOU SNAP. Whoever pissed you off better pray to the old gods because the new one ain't picking up his phone. You either seem like you have your shit together, or you really do. There is no in-between.

Anti: Relax? Who is she? Who are eccentric from the start. You are quiet at first, making people think you are shy and just have to warm up to them, when in reality, you are biding your time. Watching your surroundings to see how everyone ticks, and then you strike. Violence is not always your attack, you can also deal out verbal attacks as well. Your RBF is on point.

Wilford: You are that person who is cheerful to hide your trauma. Sorry, but we can still see it. You can't hide a body behind a glass wall. You will smile and give homemade treats and remember everyone's birthday, but everyone once in a while, you will say something to cause everyone's concern to go to an 11. High ADHD levels.

Jackie: You are that one person that is motivated beyond belief. You will wear yourself out with over positivity and helping others and then break down in a public restroom. Crying from stress is a call for attention, even in an empty room (false, cry if you need too) can't drink coffee because it sends your hyperness through the roof and gives you a headache.

Damien: You are the mom friend of the group, you either have snack pouches and juice, or a way to reprimand your friends. You are shy around confrontation, but always quick to come up with a solution to a problem. You wouldn't share homework answered, but would help with the homework. You are the designated driver.

Chase: things you cry at: cat videos, cute kid videos, slice of life anime, cute finales of comedies. You have some sort of an addiction. Coffee, alcohol, cleanliness, art, your hobby, collecting hobbies. Something to keep your hand busy is always needed, helps tame the voices. Your therapist friend begs you to go to therapy, but who can afford it? Definitely not you, and besides, you aren't even that serious. Thinking about death is normal, right? Right?!

Celine: you are the wine aunt. Weather that is literal or towards your friends, that is your title and you where it with pride. Might be some sort of witch. You can become serious quickly, you go from go lucky to problem solver 1-100 real fast. You are always available, even if you're not happy about it. You listen to problems and come up with half good answers. Sorry to say, but arson is not always the answer.

Schneep: you are the therapist friend, and you need a therapist. Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Must have perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect ingernal. Coffee is not breakfast, nor is it good to drink at 3 in the afternoon. Eat some real food, please, granola bars are not going to get you through the day.

Actor: in some way, shape, or form, you are a profectionist. People may get upset about the way things must line up, if your drink is one inch higher than expected, everything is ruined. Everything must be perfect, or it's terrible. You either love art, or an artist yourself who hates your art. When someone tells you you are a profectionist, you lash out in anger. Take a nap, might do you good.

JJ: silent but deadly. Words are very rarely exchanged with those outside your friend group. When someone asks you what you are reading, you lift up your book to show the title and continue to read. You made your own lunches at school. If someone crosses you, you will be passive aggressive about it. Dresses formal for every occasion.

Google: you have anger issues, eldest sibling , reliable one? When someone needs advice, you are the first to go to. You regularly go to those warehouses to destroy things. You don't work well with others, prefer to work alone than In a group. Effortlessly get A's on tests.

Marvin: you are either gay, or the gayest straight person. If there's no glitter, you don't want it. You're temper is fiery, but your significant other wouldn't have you any other way. You have enemies, and your friends are worried about that. You have either mental or physical scars and are self conscious about them. Your scars tell your story, don't be embarrassed. You live in the library and write papers that aren't necessary.

Bing: your favorite Ninja turtle was Mikey. Love Bill and Ted. The life of the party, always trying to be the cool guy. You fail at it, but you don't let that slow you down. You once tried to do something reckless, failed, and said that you'll practice until you do it. You succeed. You do anything you put your mind to. Useless facts, no, no one knew that otters hold hands while sleeping to not drift away, but thank you for sharing. Orange crush is your favorite drink.

Tell me how accurate I am!