#I had to keep them all to stuff mostly from this chapter because I have a lot to say about every chapter

[beababoobies]

ME AGAIN!!! WITH A SAL X READER REQUEST (again) THIS TIME AIDJSJDH. a porn one at that !!!!

i need sal so bad its an actual problem

just like. imagine reader n the gang r havin a little sleepover. and reader is just so inconsolably turned on for some reason (maybe sal had his hand on their thigh when they watched a movie or smthin), so when everyone is asleep they asks sal to help them out :,,,) (his fingers r just so long n pretty,, they cant help but want them lol)

mayb he has to keep them quiet somehow, mayb covers their mouth/puts his fingers in their mouth to muffle them

hes so shy and nervous and awkward but he’s having the time of his life, watching the reader’s reactions. mayb he cant help but get himself off too, too enraptured by the way reader struggles to gasp and whine against his fingers

GOD DAMN.

would love if u wrote this mootie 🫶🏼🫶🏼 no pressure ofc ofc ofc !! (fem bodied reader pls if u dont mind <3!)

(i might write this too, i love my mind sometimes 🙏)

hey mootie!! Im giving you the fast pass because all the jjk stuff you repost got me into the series and I’m loving it, also cus you’re AMAZING! All characters are aged 20+ because this is based in chapter five of course, please do enjoy! :) (and for everyone waiting for their Hazbin requests to be filled - IT IS COMING! I am a busy woman.) 

Needy - Sal Fisher X Fem!Reader

words : 2k, warnings : SPICAYYYY!!, creampie, fingering, slightly public, needy!sal AND needy!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys, c’mon), hold the moan trope

The entire gang had been having more sleepovers ever since Sal and Todd had found the new house. Larry was moving in so it was just the normal next step, and you loved coming over so much. More specifically to spend time with your boyfriend, but also just to feel like old times again. Even Ash came from the city every once and a while, and this was one of those days.

Since it was Larry’s last day living in the Apartments, you had all agreed to made the most out of that small basement apartment you had spent so much of your awkward teen years in. You had been doing all the same shit you used to all day - smoking in the treehouse, playing card games for hours. 

You and Sal huddled up around his old gamebuddy, playing the games Larry had kept long forgotten in the corners of his room, Larry and Ash painting on a shared canvas, chatting about life while Larry’s old metal mixtapes blasted in the background, and Todd and Neil cuddled up on the beanbag in the corner, occasionally joining in their conversation, but mostly just cuddled up and enjoying each others company. All of this was wonderful, nostalgic - even healing. 

That was all up until Sal quietly suggested you all watched an old horror movie, and you were all huddled together in the dark, you with Sal leaning on your shoulder on your right, and Ash on your left, giggling and nudging you like old times. Larry laid out casually on the floor in front of you all because of how shit his eyes were from years of refusing glasses. Which should’ve been fine.

In fact - it was fine. Until Sal decided it would be a wonderful idea to put his hand on your thigh. Your bare thigh, just below where your miniskirt started. And even that - even that, you could’ve survived with some unwanted heat in your panties. But no, the blue fucker jumped at one of the scenes, hand sliding up the inside of your thigh to accidentally drag your skirt up, his hand knocking against your warm core - hand rubbing up against your clothed clit as he pulled his hand away, and all you could do was pull your hand away from where it was sweetly brushing through Ashley’s hair like you used to do, straight to your face to hide the unbelievably needy whine you would’ve let out.

“you okay?” Ashley whispers softly, looking over to you and you just nod quickly, watching her go back to watching the movie before shooting Sal a venomous glance, which he avoids nervously, already feeling your stare of death shoot through the side of his head. You pierced your lips together, putting one leg over the other and squeezing your thighs firmly shut, Sal’s hand now comfortably resting much, much lower on your thigh. Practically on your calve, as he preferred not to die tonight. 

But that’s when it started, the unwanted slick already gently collecting in your panties, your mind running through all the things you wanted to do to him - what you wanted him to do to you. God, your mind was like a dog in heat. You couldn’t even bear to focus on the movie, sitting there, cautiously eyeing up your dead silent boyfriend. His shirt ridden up his stomach just oh-so-slightly from the way he was slouched back, soft happy trail of blue peeking out from under his shirt. God, what you would do to pull those stupid red torn up jeans down - not even fully - and ride him until he was shooting blanks and sobbing under you. 

That is how it went on for the rest of the movie. That is exactly how it went on when you all decided the sleeping plan. That is where your mind still was when you and Sal decided to take the pullout couch, Todd and Neil in Lisa’s old room, and Larry sleeping on his bed with Ashley on a cot on his floor. With the thinnest fucking walls known to man kind. You should know - you grew up with the same ones. 

Sal yawned as he laid next to you, mask placed softly on the table right beside the couch, as well as his glass eye floating in a cup, looking at you nervously as he pulled the covers up over himself too, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him from behind, expecting you to be asleep by now - you were a heavy sleeper, he was an insomniac. It worked out like that. Until he heard a soft, half-whine of a whisper come from you. 

“S-sal..” you mumbled softly, pressing yourself back against him, causing him to let out a soft whine of his own, hand around your waist flinching ever so softly. “P-please baby, need you so bad..” you mumbled out softly, turning around to face him, seeing the needy tears in your eyes had him melting as well, piercing his lips together as he grips softly at your side.

“N-no, you know how thin these walls are - I’m sorry about earlier, but..” he says nervously as he watches you whine and writhe softly, pressing yourself up against him, one hand on his chest. That’s when you decide to make the move, grabbing his hand and moving to in-between your legs so he can feel how absolutely soaked through your panties are, causing him to experimentally run his fingers over them, biting down on his scarred lip so hard he’s concerned it might bleed. You can’t help a choked whine and a buck of your hips against his hand at that, looking up at him with those needy eyes. Fuck. 

He doesn’t say a word as he puts two shaky fingers to your lips, and you wrap your mouth around them without question, twirling your tongue around them and sucking on them like your life depended on it, all while he shakily pulled you panties to the side, prodding his fingers at your soaked hole, a quiet ‘fuck.’ Escaping his mouth when he slides one in with ease, feeling the vibrations around his fingers as you whine. “G-gotta be quiet, please - we h have to be quiet..” he mumbles out messily as he feels his cock throb to life in his sleep shorts, smearing precum across his thigh when he feels your cunt clench needily around his fingers.

He lets out a sigh of relief when you quickly nod at him, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts to curl his long fingers inside of you, the obscene squealing noise making him whimper softly, hips accidentally bucking softly against your thigh as his cock tries to find some sort of friction - daydreaming about how easily he could slip inside you right now with how wet you are - how you would feel around his cock, velvety walks clenching around him and providing him that oh so delicious friction he was searching for. 

His thumb moves to gently circle your clit as you start to find a slow grinding rhythm against his hand, practically riding his fingers as he finds that delicious spongy spot on your walls and pushes his fingers up against it, causing your cunt to give another urgent and needy clench, more slick falling into his palm, making a mess as he tries his best not to whine himself.

The slippery sounds of friction, the feeling of your thigh twitching pressed up right against his own throbbing problem, or the way his fingertips are pressing up against the entrance to your throat, the way his other fingertips are pressed up against your velvety walls. It’s driving him beyond insane, to the point he’s thinking he might cum in his sleep shorts if it continues this way. And he didn’t bring an extra pair - and it would just be a waste if he didn’t cum inside of you - not while you were practically begging for it.  

“B-baby.” He whines out, catching your attention for a second, tears of pleasure falling softly down your face as your hips still, whining against his hand from the way you stopped while being so close - it was beyond downright embarrassing how quickly you were about to cum, and you were honestly glad he stopped you. “C-can i please put it in? J-just the tip, please baby, ‘s so sensitive. Need you so bad.” He whines quietly and softly, pressing his hard on against your thigh to back up his own statement, whining softly again. “Just wann’ cum inside you, please…” he whispers, watching you nod eagerly.

Pulling his fingers out of you with an obscenely wet pop, pulling your soaked panties to the side and he lets out an erotic sigh pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he pulled his shorts down, cock slapping to attention against his abdomen, precum beading from the sensitive tip as he shakily pulled your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and gently rubbing it against your entrance, and you could hear how wet you were when he moved his tip to part your drenched lips and drag through them, whining into the crook of your neck as you grabbed his shoulders, brain fuzzy with the way his hot tip felt rubbing against your clit, sticky with your own slick. 

He bit down hard on your shoulder as his tip popped past the tight ring of muscles of your entrance, desperately rutting against you, trying not to whine or let slip how good it felt to be inside you - the way your hot, heady slick insides felt like they were trying to pull him in deeper. His hand cupped your mouth quickly, stopping you from making a sound as he gently pushed himself further inside you, feeling you grip tightly at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he broke his promise, pushing his cock inside of you, inch by desperate inch, trying not to slam his entire cock into you at once - which was unbelievably hard, considering how wet you were, and how desperate he was - his tip prodded at your cervix, making you jerk forward, groaning against the palm of his hand.

He rutted into you desperately, not daring to thrust properly, letting everyone else hear how wet and desperate you were, or even worse, how even needier he was for you, the head of his cock bumping against your sweet spot, the only sound in the air being the quiet sounds of your muffled whines, and the quiet rustling of sheets as he ground into you, abdomen rubbing against your clit as he did so, bringing you to the edge so much faster than you ever expected, cunt clenching around him, the sign that you were about to cum. He just nodded into the nape of your neck, hips refusing to stop. 

“m-me too, fuck, me too, me too ‘m gonna cum, ‘s too tight, ‘s so warm.” He half whines, half whispers right into your neck as he detaches his teeth from your shoulder for a second, before hurriedly latching them back onto your neck as you feel his cock violently twitch inside you, whining desperately into his hand as you felt yourself start to cum, cunt clenching around him desperately, slick flooding from you and creating an obscene squelching between you two as you spasmed and arched under him. 

He groaned into your neck as he quickly pulled his face from your neck, smashing his lips desperately against yours, muffling his own groans as he pushes himself as deep into you as he can go, cumming hot ropes into you as he stills, thighs twitching as he pulls his mouth from you, both of you panting and catching your breaths, feeling the warm liquid pool out of you and spill onto Sal’s abdomen as he lets out a small and raspy chuckle, still catching his breath.

 “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” 

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 3

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: a couple weeks go by and you’ve been hanging out with evan daily. you’re starting to let your guard down when a guy in one of your classes approaches and asks for help in class. evan sees this, and can’t help the jealousy that builds inside of him.

word count: 2.8k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: this chapter got away from me, this was so fun to write and i really love how it turned out! from this chapter on there’s a lot of them running into each other on campus which i know is unrealistic but just ignore it! enjoy<3

warnings: lack of experience!reader, slowburn?? slight enemies to lovers???, jealous!buck, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You hang out with Evan everyday for the next two weeks in the library, trying to get the assignment mostly done before either of your classes pile up too much. Each time you spend time with him, you can’t help but open up a little bit more. You can’t help it; he’s just so easy to talk to. You almost begin to think of him as a friend.

This isn’t lost on him either. He’s noticed how your attitude is slowly beginning to slip, and the way you give him that sweet little smile when he says something funny. It makes his insides turn in a way he hasn’t felt before, and everytime he sees your eyes crinkle paired with hearing your soft laugh, he’s sure he’d do just about anything to experience it again.

You’re sitting in the library yet again, at the same table that you sat at the first time you hung out with him. It’s become your unofficial meeting table, as the first person who arrives, mostly Evan, always saves it for the other.

You both have your laptops open, but your assignment is long forgotten. He’s in the middle of telling you a story of when his parents forced him to sign up for baseball at 8 years old, even after he had begged to be put in football instead. He tells you how he refused to participate, and his coach had to call his parents to pick him up in the middle of practice because not only was he refusing to play, he was also sitting in the middle of the field so no one else could play either. You’re laughing softly at his words, your brows raised in disbelief, when you feel a presence beside you. You notice Evan’s eyes trail up as he stops talking, and a frown makes its way onto his face. You turn in your seat and look up at the person beside you, smiling when you realize it’s a guy from your English class. Elijah, you think.

“Hey. Were you in class on Monday?” Elijah asks you as he stands a little too close for Evan’s liking. Elijah’s smile widens when he sees you nod, and continues. “Awesome. Could I get your notes? I have no idea what Professor Curran is talking about most of the time.” he tells you, pulling out the chair on the other side of you and sitting down, his body angled at you.

“Yeah, he can be a little hard to follow along with, but I’ve had him a few times, so I’ve learned to keep up with him most of the time.” you say, chuckling softly. You turn to your laptop and pull up your notes for that class as Evan rolls his eyes, very clearly annoyed that this guy is taking all your attention away from him. You don’t even notice, your focus now completely on helping Elijah out.

“Wait, really? Can you explain the Great Exhibition to me? I don’t get it.” Evan can’t help but scoff quietly and roll his eyes at this guy. He doesn’t understand the Great Exhibition? It was a big building of stuff, what’s so hard to understand? His eyes narrow as he notices the way the guy is looking at you, eyes trailing down your body as you look at your laptop screen, starting to explain the Great Exhibition happily. He’s clearly only over here because he thinks you’re attractive, and this doesn’t sit right with Evan.

“Could we maybe do this another time?” he asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice, despite his best efforts to hide the jealousy bubbling inside of him. He has a fake smile plastered on his face as he looks at you. He knows he really can’t do much about this guy, it’s not like you’re his, but he’s still gonna try.

“It’ll only take a second. I’m sure you can sit quietly for a few minutes.” you tease him softly, barely looking at him before your eyes move from your screen to Elijah, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I don’t know about that, princess. You’ve met me, haven’t you?” This earns a small laugh from you as you finally look over at him, giving him a sweet smile.

“Please?” you say, just above a whisper, your eyes silently pleading with him. You really are interested in the Great Exhibition, so you’re happy to take a break on your assignment and talk about it. He huffs, sinking into his chair, mumbling a defeated “fine” as he crosses his arms over his chest. You give him a wide smile before turning back to Elijah, continuing to talk about your class.

Evan sits quietly for a minute or two, shooting daggers at Elijah as he leans closer to you, taking the chance to look down at the cleavage you have peeking out of your top when your eyes are focused on the screen. God, you seem so oblivious to the way he’s looking at you, Evan thinks. It almost makes him sick to his stomach to think about you hanging out with this guy without him here.

It pushes Evan over the edge when you laugh at something stupid Elijah says and lean closer to him instinctively as you do so. Evan sits up straight, eyes narrowing even further at the man before leaning over to you and draping an arm around the back of your chair as he looks at your screen.

“You’re a good teacher, princess. Maybe you can teach me a few things too.” he says softly, a hint of suggestiveness in his voice. You finally look over at him, fighting back a smile as you catch his tone, momentarily forgetting about Elijah. This makes Evan smirk, his eyes glancing at the man as if to say “I win.”

“Are you really that interested in the Great Exhibition?” you tease softly, not believing for a second that he really cares about what you’re saying. Surely he’s just bored.

“Yeah, I love the Great Exhibition. The Crystal Palace, and all that. Fascinating.” he trails off, which makes you laugh softly. He notices the guy smirk as your chest moves when you laugh, and his eyes narrow for a moment before he continues, really wanting to show the man that you’re off limits. Even if you’re technically not his. He leans closer to you again, putting his other arm in front of you on the table, almost as if he’s trapping you between this arm and the one on the back of your chair, marking his territory. You bite the inside of your cheek softly as he moves, breath catching in your throat as you feel the heat radiating off of him.

He sees Elijah’s stare move between him and you for a moment before he clears his throat awkwardly, as if finally understanding that flirting with you so clearly around Evan may not be a good idea, and knowing that he has lost your attention.

“Well, I don’t wanna take up all your time. Maybe we could, uh, hang out after class next week? You could catch me up?” he tells you, which pulls you out of your thoughts of Evan. You let out a shaky breath and turn to Elijah, giving him a nod as you try to slow your racing heart at Evan’s closeness. Evan rolls his eyes at Elijah’s words, leaning back and squaring his shoulders, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he stares at the smaller man.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Or, there’s no lecture in our room before class, so we can just go a little early instead?” you say after a moment, smiling softly.

“I have a class right before ours. Maybe we could walk to the coffee shop off campus together after class instead?” Elijah asks you, licking his lips as his eyes glance down to your chest yet again. This man doesn’t know when to give up, Evan thinks, his mind clouded with jealousy.

“Yeah, that works.” you tell him, bringing your hands together on the table and fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“Awesome. See you then.” he replies smoothly, giving you a smirk as he gets up and walks away. You turn back to Evan after a second, being met with a twisted look on his face and his brows raised.

“What?” you ask, laughing softly at this look on his face. Your face grows hot as you turn to look back at your laptop, thinking about hanging out with Elijah next week.

“What? Is that guy serious?” he asks, annoyance laced in his voice. You turn back to Evan, raising a brow. Why does he seem so upset by this? You’re just helping him catch up on class.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“He doesn’t understand the Great Exhibition? It’s not that hard to understand.” You sigh, shaking your head. He had a point, sure, but why else would he ask you to explain it to him?

“Well, not everyone’s as smart as you are.” you say, a hint of teasing in your voice as you give him a small smile, hoping to change the subject. He doesn’t look amused, though.

“I’m serious. He just wants to get you alone. How much do you wanna bet he’s not even busy before your class.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes. You scoff, shaking your head.

“I’m not talking to you about this. Let’s just work on our assignment.” There’s no way what Evan’s saying is true. And you really don’t want to talk to him about going out with another guy if it is. You turn back to your laptop, pulling back up your assignment document, getting ready to add to it.

“Would you go out with him if he asked?” he asks after a moment, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like the way you’re brushing him off. Jealousy builds inside of him as he imagines you going out with anyone other than him. You sigh, shutting your laptop, knowing he won’t drop it. After hanging out with him for two weeks straight, you know how stubborn he is.

“I don’t know, Evan. Why?” you say, defeated, straightening your back as you meet his eyes. You’re not really sure what else to say. It’s so out of the realm of possibility, you think, that you don’t even want to think about it.

“Just curious.” He shrugs slightly, pursing his lips. He knows he can’t do much because you’re not his, and he doesn’t wanna be that guy. But God, he doesn’t want you going out with that douchebag.

You duck your head slightly, trying to meet his eyes as you see his eyes look away, but you feel like he’s shutting down. You sigh softly and turn back to your laptop, opening it yet again to continue working. Is he jealous? You can’t tell. This is so far out of your expertise that you’re really not sure what to do other than ignore it.

You hang out for a few more hours and he seems to lighten up as you joke with him, and he feels himself forgetting about Elijah more and more each time you give him that sweet little smile. You close your laptop once you realize it’s almost time for your class, and he does the same, packing his bag up.

“Can I walk you to class?” he asks as he stands up and puts his bag over his shoulder. You nod, zipping up your bag. He picks up your bag once you're done and you furrow your brows, looking at the bag outstretched in front of him. Your eyes soften as he holds your backpack straps up, waiting for you to put your arms through, and you look down, fighting back a smile as you turn and put your arms through the straps. You feel his fingers touching you as he slides the straps up your arms, shivering softly as you feel his breath hitting your exposed skin. You take a step forward once your bag is in place, clearing your throat as you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him and thank him softly.

You walk side by side out of the library and across campus to your next lecture. As you’re walking, he finally speaks again in a soft voice.

“Would you really go out with him if he asked?” You look down, biting your lip softly, too nervous to look at him.

“I don’t know.” you answer honestly. You know he doesn’t make your stomach flip as much as Evan, but you’re also not sure how Evan feels about you. You don’t know if you’d necessarily turn him down, but if both Evan and Elijah somehow wanted you, you know who the clear winner is.

“I don’t want you to.” he tells you after a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t want to say too much; he doesn’t want to hold you back if you really want to go out with him, but he knows it’ll hurt him too much to see you with him, especially if he knows he could’ve said something and didn’t.

“Why?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper, keeping your eyes straight ahead. You’re too afraid to look. You’re scared he’ll be able to see the feelings you have for him if he looks into your eyes.

“I don’t know. I just don’t trust him. He was looking at you like a piece of meat.” You can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face as he says this. He may not necessarily be jealous, but you can’t help but pretend for a moment. You’re so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t see the look on Evan’s face. If you were to look over at him, you’d see the clear jealousy across his face, and the way his eyes are silently praying that you don’t go out with him as he stares straight ahead of you two.

“Okay.” you whisper after a moment. Once you make it to the building your class is in, he holds the door open for you. You bite you lip as you duck in, thanking him quietly.

“Okay, what?” His voice is full of hope as he watches you walk into the building, trying to keep his eyes off your ass as you pass him.

“I won’t go out with him. If he asks.” you say softly, licking your lips as you turn to look up at him walking through the door. A large smile breaks onto his face for a second, but it’s gone as soon as it appears, trying to act cool. He nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, but there’s still an excited look in his eyes.

“Good.” he finishes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so big before, not that he gives you long to study it. You smile to yourself as you turn back forward, walking the rest of the way to your lecture hall. You’re not exactly sure what this means, but you think he might actually feel the same way about you as you feel about him.

You turn to him once you get to the door, smiling up at him, your face still hot.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, and he nods, smirking down at you as he holds the lecture hall door open for you.

“Yeah, princess. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says smugly before nodding his head towards the door. “Go to class.” You nod, looking down as you walk under the arm that's holding the door and into the room. Once you’re a safe enough distance from the door you let out a long sigh, laughing softly to yourself.

Okay, maybe you will tell your roommate about him.

After your dreadfully long class, you finally make your way home, still trying to fight the way your stomach is twisting from your encounter with Evan.

You decide on the walk home that you’re going to make cookies. Ever since high school, when you feel any sort of strong emotions, you bake. You need something to put your energy into, and your roommate knows that. So, when she walks into your apartment later and sees you aggressively stirring cookie dough, she drops her bag and walks into the kitchen carefully, eyes glued to your back.

“What’s up?” she asks slowly, trying not to disturb you too much. Usually when you bake, you’re sad, so she’s careful in the way she speaks to you. She lets out a breath as you turn to her with a smile on your face, jumping slightly as your oven beeps, signalling that it’s at 350°.

“Nothing.” you trail off, and you can’t help the way your smile grows as she narrows her eyes, confusion on her face.

“So why are we baking?” she asks, the smile growing on her face as she takes in your expression. She can almost feel the excitement radiating off of you, and she can’t wait to hear what you have to say.

“There may be a, um, guy.” you start, waiting to see her reaction. She’s known you for a long time. She knows your lack of experience when it comes to guys, so she can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips and the wide grin that erupts on her face.

“Who?” she squeals, sitting down at the island stool, holding her head up in her hand as she watches you go back to stirring the cookie dough.

“His name’s Evan.” you start, beginning to explain how you met and how you’ve been hanging out every day for the last two weeks, working on an assignment. She squeals again, and seems to have an endless amount of questions, which you answer happily. It’s nice to finally talk about him, and most of the rest of the night is spent telling her everything about him. God, you’re screwed, you think. You’ve known this guy for two weeks and he has you acting like you’re 15.

next chapter

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of starlight - Part 6

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 7.7k

warning; /

notes; Pretty big chapter again today, i hope that you guys will like it. I'm wondering if you guys would like me to do open request for azriel or other characters of the ACOTAR universe ? bisous bisous and see you tomorrowwwww //>_<//

here is the link for part 5 or part 7

The first light of dawn didn't had yet to touch the sky when you quietly slipped out of bed, the soft creak of the wooden floorboards barely audible in the stillness of the early morning. The house was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the faint, silvery glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. You moved with practiced ease, pulling on your training clothes—a simple but sturdy outfit made for movement and endurance.

Once dressed, you padded softly to Alex’s room, where the young boy was still deeply asleep, sprawled across his bed with one arm hanging off the side. His peaceful expression made you pause for a moment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. But as much as you hated to wake him, you knew it was time to start the day.

Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Alex, it’s time to get up,” you whispered.

A soft growl emanated from under the covers as Alex buried his face deeper into his pillow, clearly not ready to leave the comfort of his bed. “Just five more minutes, Nana,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “You know we can’t be late for training. Come on, up you get.”

With a reluctant groan, Alex slowly peeled himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. His hair was a wild mess, sticking out in all directions, and he blinked blearily at you, still half-asleep. “Why do we have to train so early?” he grumbled, though there was no real bite in his words.

“Because,” you said with a smile, “this is the best time of day. The city’s quiet, the air is fresh, and it’s just us and the forest. You’ll feel better once we’re out there.”

Alex sighed, but he nodded, already moving to get dressed. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Within a few minutes, the two of you were ready, your footsteps silent as you slipped out of the house and into the cool pre-dawn air. The sky above was still mostly dark, with only the faintest hint of light on the horizon where the sun would soon rise. The streets of Velaris were quiet, the city still asleep, and the world felt hushed and peaceful as you made your way towards the forest.

As you approached the gates of Velaris, you spotted the familiar figures of the guards stationed there, keeping watch over the entrance to the city. These were the same guards you saw every morning on your way to the clearing, and over time, you had come to know them well.

“Morning, Y/N! Alex!” one of the guards called out with a friendly wave as you approached. He was a tall, broad-shouldered male with a beard that always seemed to be impeccably groomed, despite the early hour. His name was Rylan, and he had a reputation for being one of the friendliest guards in Velaris.

“Morning, Rylan,” you greeted with a smile. “Quiet night?”

“Quiet as can be,” Rylan replied with a grin. “Though I’m not sure how you two manage to get up this early nearly every day. I’m just glad I’m the one on watch and not the one doing all that training.”

Alex, still rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes, gave Rylan a small wave. “Morning, Rylan. You should join us one day. Nana’s training is tough, but it’s fun.”

Rylan chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave the tough stuff to you young folks. Besides, someone’s got to keep watch while you’re out there.”

Another guard, a younger male named Darian, leaned over with a teasing grin. “Don’t let him fool you, Alex. Rylan here used to be quite the fighter back in his day. He’s just gotten soft with all these night shifts.”

Rylan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Says the one who can barely lift a sword without complaining about his back.”

You laughed, enjoying the banter between the two guards. “Maybe we should all train together sometime. Keep everyone sharp.”

Rylan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll think about it. But for now, you two should get going. The forest awaits.”

You nodded, giving them both a wave as you and Alex continued on your way, the guards’ laughter fading into the background as you left the city behind and entered the forest.

The path through the trees was familiar, one you had walked countless times before. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant call of birds just beginning to wake, and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the earthy scent of the woods, and you felt yourself relax as you breathed it in.

Alex, now fully awake, walked beside you, his earlier grumpiness replaced by the quiet focus that always came with these early morning sessions. “Do you think we’ll see any animals today?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace of the forest.

“Maybe,” you replied with a smile. “The forest is full of life at this time of day. If we’re lucky, we might catch a glimpse of a deer or two.”

The clearing came into view a few minutes later, a peaceful spot nestled deep within the trees. It was a place of quiet solitude, far enough from the city that you could train in peace, but close enough that you could return quickly if needed. The ground was soft and even, covered in a thin layer of grass, and the trees around the perimeter provided a natural barrier, shielding you from prying eyes.

As you stepped into the clearing, the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, casting the forest in a soft, golden glow. The sky above was slowly transitioning from deep blue to shades of pink and orange, and the beauty of the scene was enough to take your breath away.

Alex, standing beside you, let out a small sigh of contentment. “I guess you’re right, Nana. This really is the best time of day.”

You smiled down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I knew you’d come around. Now, let’s get to work. We’ve got a lot to do before the sun fully rises.”

With that, the two of you began your morning routine, the clearing filled with the sounds of training—sharp breaths, the swish of weapons through the air, and the quiet, steady rhythm of feet moving across the ground. The world around you was waking up, but in that moment, it was just you, Alex, and the peaceful solitude of the forest, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

The clearing was bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning as you and Alex moved through your training routine. The air was cool, refreshing, and filled with the scent of damp earth and pine, a perfect setting for the physical exertion that awaited you both. 

You began with the basics, going through a series of warm-up exercises to get the blood flowing and muscles ready. Alex mirrored your movements, his focus sharp and determined despite the early hour. He had come a long way since you first started training him, his small frame now stronger and more agile with each passing day.

Once the warm-up was complete, you moved on to sword training. You handed Alex a wooden practice sword, and together, you began a series of drills, the rhythmic clashing of wood echoing through the clearing.

“Remember to keep your guard up,” you instructed, your voice calm but firm as you parried his strikes. “You’re doing well, but don’t let your focus slip.”

Alex nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted his stance and brought his sword up to block your next move. The two of you moved in a synchronized dance, your swords connecting and separating with precise, practiced movements. After a few more exchanges, you could see that Alex was getting into the rhythm, his confidence growing with each successful block and strike.

“Good,” you said, stepping back to give him space. “Now, let’s try something different.”

You set the wooden swords aside and walked over to a small area of the clearing where you had set up a simple target—a wooden post with a painted bullseye on it. You handed Alex a bow and a quiver of arrows, watching as he adjusted his grip on the bowstring.

“Archery is about precision and control,” you explained, demonstrating the proper stance and how to draw the bow. “You need to find your center, steady your breathing, and focus on the target. Don’t rush the shot; let the arrow fly naturally.”

Alex nodded, following your instructions carefully as he nocked an arrow and pulled back the string. You could see the determination in his eyes, the way he focused entirely on the target in front of him.

“Relax your shoulders a bit,” you advised, moving behind him to gently adjust his stance. “And keep your wrist steady. There you go—now, when you’re ready, release.”

He did as you instructed, and the arrow flew from the bow with a satisfying twang, embedding itself in the outer ring of the target. Alex’s face lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride at his success.

“Nice shot!” you praised, giving him an encouraging smile. “You’re getting the hang of it. Let’s try a few more, and focus on refining your technique.”

As Alex continued to practice, you took the opportunity to stretch, easing your muscles after the earlier sword drills. You moved through a series of stretches, leaning into each one with practiced ease. As you stretched your legs, your body moving into a graceful split, you kept an eye on Alex, offering tips and guidance as he shot arrow after arrow.

“Remember to keep your core engaged,” you advised, your voice calm as you reached forward, your fingertips grazing the ground. “It’ll help you stay steady. And don’t forget to follow through with your shot. Let the energy flow all the way from your feet to your fingertips.”

Alex, now fully immersed in his practice, nodded at your words, making the small adjustments you suggested. His shots grew more consistent, each one landing closer to the center of the target as he honed his technique.

After several rounds of archery practice, Alex finally lowered the bow, breathing heavily but with a satisfied smile on his face. He had clearly made progress, and it showed in the way he carried himself—more confident, more self-assured.

You finished your stretches and stood, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension. “Great job, Alex. You’re improving with every shot.”

He beamed at your praise, though he still looked a little unsure. “Thanks, Nana. But I think I still need more practice.”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair as you often did. “We all do. But that’s what training is for. You’ve done well today.”

Feeling the morning wear on and satisfied with the training session, you led Alex in a series of cool-down stretches, guiding him through each movement to prevent stiffness and ensure his muscles recovered properly. He followed your lead, the two of you moving in sync as the morning light grew stronger, casting long shadows across the clearing.

As the session came to a close, you both stood in the clearing, the sounds of the forest waking up around you. Alex stretched his arms above his head, a yawn escaping him as the exertion of the morning began to catch up with him.

“That was a good session,” he said, his voice a mix of tiredness and satisfaction.

You nodded, glancing up at the sky where the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, bathing the world in a soft, golden light. “It was. But now, I think it’s time we head back home and get some breakfast. What do you think?”

Alex grinned, his earlier grumpiness forgotten. “Definitely. I’m starving.”

With that, the two of you made your way back through the forest, the familiar path leading you back toward the city of Velaris. As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The morning had been well spent, and as you returned home with Alex by your side, you knew you were ready to face whatever the day had in store.

After finishing your morning training, you and Alex returned to the house, the warmth of the interior a welcome contrast to the cool, crisp air outside. The shop could wait for a little while longer; right now, breakfast was calling, and you both needed to refuel after the exertion of the morning.

As you moved through the house, you could hear the soft sounds of Alex humming a tune to himself as he washed up, clearly in high spirits after the training session. You took the opportunity to freshen up as well, quickly washing away the sweat and dirt from the morning’s exercises. Once you were both clean and dressed in more comfortable clothes, you headed to the kitchen together to prepare breakfast.

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aromas of freshly brewed tea, warm bread, and sizzling eggs. Alex had insisted on helping, and you were more than happy to let him. He was getting quite skilled at cooking, and you enjoyed the quiet moments you spent together, preparing meals and chatting about whatever came to mind.

With breakfast ready, you both carried the plates to the living room, settling down on the couch with your food. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you felt a sense of contentment as you began to eat.

But it wasn’t long before Alex’s curiosity got the better of him. As he took a bite of his toast, he shot you a mischievous look, his eyes gleaming with barely-contained excitement.

“So, Nana,” he began, his tone teasing, “what’s this I hear about you having dinner with Azriel tonight?”

You paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow at him. “And where exactly did you hear that?”

Alex shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but his grin gave him away. “Oh, you know, just some rumours going around… mostly from you and him talking last night. So, is it true? Are you going on a date with him?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, Alex, it’s true. Azriel asked me to have dinner with him tonight.”

Alex’s grin widened, and he waggled his eyebrows in a way that was clearly meant to be playful. “Ooooh, a date with the Spymaster! Sounds serious, Nana. You must really like him.”

You felt a warmth rise to your cheeks, but you kept your tone light. “I do like him, Alex. He’s… different from anyone I’ve met before. But it’s just dinner. No need to get too carried away.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex said, his tone clearly teasing. “Just dinner. Sure. But you know, Nana, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just dinner to him.”

You took a sip of your tea, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at your lips. “And how exactly does he look at me, Mr. Expert?”

Alex leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms with a smug expression. “Like you’re the most important person in the world. Like he’d do anything for you. I mean, I’m just a kid, but even I can tell when someone’s got it bad.”

You chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. But seriously, Nana, I’m happy for you. Azriel’s a good guy, and I think you two would be great together.”

You smiled softly at his words, feeling a swell of affection for the boy who had become like family to you. “Thanks, Alex. That means a lot to me.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of the morning and the simple pleasure of each other’s company. The teasing might have been playful, but there was a truth to it that you couldn’t deny. Azriel was special, and the thought of spending more time with him, of exploring whatever was growing between you, filled you with both excitement and a little bit of nervousness.

As you finished your breakfast, Alex gave you one last grin. “Just promise me one thing, Nana.”

“What’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you and Azriel do end up together, you’ve got to let me be the one to give the toast at your wedding.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head at his cheekiness. “Alright, Alex, you’ve got yourself a deal. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“Deal,” he said with a wink, clearly satisfied with himself.

With breakfast finished, you both got up to clear the table, the lighthearted mood lingering in the air. As you moved about the house, preparing for the day ahead, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building. Tonight’s dinner with Azriel was going to be special—you could feel it. And whatever the future held, you knew you were ready to face it, with Alex by your side and, perhaps, Azriel as well.

The day had settled into a comfortable rhythm as you and Alex worked quietly in the shop. The clinking of metal and the gentle hum of the forge created a soothing background noise as you focused on your tasks. You were working on a set of generic weapons to display in the shop—well-crafted swords and daggers that could be sold to walk-in customers. Alex was nearby, organising the shelves and occasionally asking you questions about the different weapons you had made.

The morning had passed without incident, the shop quiet but steady with the occasional customer coming in to browse. It was a typical day in Velaris, and you found yourself enjoying the calm after a busy few weeks.

Just as you were finishing up the polishing of a particularly intricate dagger, the soft chime of the bell above the shop door rang out, signaling the arrival of a new customer. You glanced up, expecting to see a familiar face, but instead, a stranger stepped into the shop.

The man was dressed in a dark, hooded cloak that obscured much of his face, only his sharp, calculating eyes visible beneath the shadow of the hood. He moved with a quiet grace, his footsteps almost silent as he approached the counter where Alex was standing.

“Good day,” Alex greeted the man with his usual cheerful demeanor. “Can I help you with something?”

The man’s eyes flickered over the various weapons displayed around the shop, but he made no move to examine any of them. Instead, he reached into his cloak and produced a sealed letter, placing it on the counter with a deliberate motion.

“I have a request,” the man said, his voice low and measured. “Everything you need to know is in this letter.”

Alex looked at the letter with curiosity before glancing back up at the man. “We usually discuss orders in person. Can you give me a bit more detail about what you’re looking for?”

The man’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The details are all in the letter. The payment will be made upon delivery of the weapon.”

Alex frowned, clearly not satisfied with the vague response. “We typically work on a two-payment basis—half upfront, half upon delivery. It ensures that the materials and work are covered.”

The man didn’t respond to Alex’s statement. Instead, he simply pushed the letter closer to him, a silent insistence that the terms would be followed as written.

You had been listening from the back of the shop, where you were tending to the forge, but the strange exchange piqued your interest. Wiping your hands on a cloth, you stepped out from behind the counter and approached the mysterious customer, giving him a polite but curious look.

“Is there a problem?” you asked, your tone calm but with a slight edge of authority. You had dealt with difficult customers before, but there was something different about this one—something that put you on alert.

The man turned his attention to you, his gaze briefly scanning you as if assessing your worth. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “As I told the boy, everything you need to know is in the letter. The weapon must be crafted according to the specifications provided, and the payment will be made in full upon delivery.”

You exchanged a glance with Alex, who still looked uncertain, but you decided to take the letter and see for yourself what was so important. You picked up the sealed envelope, feeling the weight of it in your hand, and nodded to the man.

“Alright,” you said, your tone firm. “I’ll take a look at the request. But you should know that we don’t usually proceed without a down payment. It ensures that both parties are committed to the transaction.”

The man’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “You’ll find the payment terms satisfactory once the weapon is delivered. The craftsmanship you’re known for will be well-compensated.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the shop, leaving the door to swing shut behind him with a soft click. You watched him go, a strange feeling settling in your gut. There was something off about the entire interaction, and you couldn’t shake the unease that lingered in the air.

Alex looked up at you, his brow furrowed. “That was… weird, right?”

You nodded slowly, still holding the letter in your hand. “Definitely weird. Let’s see what this is all about.”

Carefully, you broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. The parchment was of high quality, and the handwriting was elegant, almost too perfect. As you read through the contents, your unease grew.

The letter detailed a request for a weapon that was unlike any you had crafted before. It was to be a blade of ancient design, infused with a specific type of magic that was rarely practiced anymore. The materials required were rare and dangerous to obtain, including a metal that was said to only be found in the darkest parts of the continent. The weapon needed to be completed within a week—an almost impossible deadline given the complexity of the work.

You frowned as you read further, noting the vague references to the purpose of the weapon. The client mentioned only that it was intended for use against a formidable enemy, but there were no specifics given. The secrecy and urgency of the request set off alarm bells in your mind.

“This doesn’t feel right,” you muttered, half to yourself and half to Alex, who had moved closer to read over your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“The materials, the timeline, the secrecy… it’s all too much,” you replied, folding the letter and setting it down on the counter. “And the fact that he refuses to pay upfront is another red flag. Something about this feels… dangerous.”

Alex nodded, his expression serious. “So, what do we do? Are we going to take the order?”

You hesitated, torn between your curiosity and your instincts. The challenge of crafting such a weapon was undeniably intriguing, but the risks were high, and you didn’t like the idea of being drawn into something you didn’t fully understand.

“I’m not sure yet,” you said finally. “I need to think about it. Maybe do some research on the materials and the magic involved. But I’m not making any decisions until I know more.”

Alex nodded, trusting your judgment. “Alright. Just… be careful, Nana. This feels like it could be bigger than we realize.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, though the unease still lingered in your chest. “I will, Alex. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out together.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the forge, the mysterious letter still weighing heavily on your mind. Whatever this order was, it had the potential to change everything—and not necessarily for the better.

——

The evening was drawing closer, and you found yourself in your apartment, standing in front of the mirror with a growing sense of frustration. You had been rifling through your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, trying to find the perfect outfit for your date with Azriel. The more you looked, the more you second-guessed yourself, and now your room was strewn with discarded clothes, each one deemed "not quite right."

Alex was sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Stellan, your loyal white direwolf, was lying at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes following your every move with what seemed like a judgmental gaze.

You held up a tunic in front of the mirror, frowning at your reflection. "What do you think of this one?" you asked, turning slightly to get a better look.

Alex rolled his eyes dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nana, aren't you like, over a hundred years old? And you're struggling to pick an outfit for a date? Seriously?"

You shot him a playful glare through the mirror. "Age has nothing to do with it, thank you very much. And picking the right outfit is important!"

Alex snorted, leaning back on his hands. "Uh-huh. Sure. But honestly, you look good in everything. I don't think Azriel's going to care what you wear."

You sighed, tossing the tunic onto the growing pile of rejected clothes. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to impress anyone."

Alex grinned, clearly enjoying the role reversal. "Oh, come on, Nana. It's just a date. You should be more worried about what you're going to say, not what you're going to wear."

You turned to face him, hands on your hips. "And what exactly do you suggest I say, oh wise one?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I dunno. Maybe start with 'Hey, Azriel, nice wings. Wanna fly me to the moon?'"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head at his antics. "I think I'll pass on that one."

Stellan, sensing that this was a lighter moment, let out a low huff, almost as if he was agreeing with Alex. The wolf’s eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement, and you could have sworn he was judging your fashion choices just as much as Alex was.

You sighed again and picked up a different top, this one more form-fitting. You held it up in front of the mirror, trying to gauge if it was too casual or too dressy.

Alex’s eyes narrowed as he examined the outfit with a critical eye. “Are your boobs bigger?” he asked, completely deadpan.

Your eyes widened, and you turned to him in mock horror. “What? Do I look like I’ve gained weight?”

Alex’s expression quickly shifted to one of concern as he realized his joke had backfired. “No, no! I didn’t mean that! You’re not fat, Nana, I promise!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered reaction, shaking your head as you tossed the shirt aside. “I’m just messing with you, Alex. Relax.”

He let out a sigh of relief, clearly relieved that you weren’t upset. “You had me worried for a second there.”

You smiled warmly at him, ruffling his hair as you walked past him to grab another option from the wardrobe. “You’re sweet, Alex. But seriously, does this look okay?”

You were dressed in a deep, midnight blue tunic that fell gracefully to mid-thigh, the intricate silver embroidery along the edges mimicking the swirling patterns of wind and shadows, reminiscent of the Night Court itself. The sleeves were fitted, flaring slightly at the wrists, ending in cuffs adorned with the same silver embroidery. Beneath the tunic, you wore black, form-fitting trousers that allowed for ease of movement, and knee-high boots made of soft, supple leather, both practical and stylish. A delicate silver chain belt sat low on your hips, catching the light with each movement.

To combat the winter chill, you had chosen a warm, dark jacket to wear over your tunic. The jacket was made of a rich, dark material, lined with soft fur along the collar and cuffs, providing both warmth and a touch of luxury. It complemented the rest of your outfit perfectly, giving you a regal yet grounded appearance.

Alex, who had been observing your preparations with a mix of amusement and interest, gave you an approving nod as you fastened the jacket. "Now that's what I’m talking about, Nana. You look amazing. Azriel’s going to be speechless."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the jacket. “Thanks, Alex. I think this is the one.”

Stellan, your ever-faithful direwolf, gave a low, approving rumble as if to agree. His dark eyes gleamed in the dim light of the room, his presence a comforting constant.

Just as you finished getting ready, there was a soft knock on the door. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing who it was. Alex, ever the eager one, darted to the door with a mischievous grin on his face.

“I’ll get it!” he called out, clearly excited to greet your guest.

You watched as Alex opened the door, revealing Azriel standing there, but tonight he looked different. Gone were his usual fighting leathers, replaced with something more relaxed yet still undeniably stylish. He wore a tailored, dark grey tunic with subtle silver accents that highlighted his broad shoulders, paired with black trousers that fit him perfectly. A deep, rich cloak hung loosely around his shoulders, the fabric swaying gently as he moved. The entire look was casual yet elegant, perfectly suited for a night out in Velaris.

Alex, not missing a beat, looked up at Azriel with a teasing grin. “Wow, you clean up nice, Azriel. Ready to take Nana out for the night?”

Azriel chuckled, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. “I think so, Alex. And you, Y/N…” His eyes softened as they took in your appearance. “You look stunning.”

A blush crept up your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Azriel. You look quite handsome yourself.”

Alex, always quick with a quip, shot you a look that clearly said, “Told you so,” before turning back to Azriel. “Make sure she has fun, okay? And don’t worry about me—I’ll be just fine.”

You ruffled Alex’s hair affectionately, laughing at his antics. “There’s food on the counter if you get hungry, and Stellan will keep you company. Stay safe at home, alright?”

Alex grinned, giving you a mock salute. “Aye-aye, Captain. You two have fun.”

With a final glance at Alex and Stellan, you stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you. Azriel offered you his arm, which you took with a grateful smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in his presence.

As you walked down the quiet streets of Velaris, the cold winter air nipping at your cheeks, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation. The stars above twinkled brightly, reflecting off the river as you made your way to your destination.

Azriel’s presence beside you was steady and reassuring, and as you walked together, he glanced over at you with a soft smile. “I’m glad you agreed to this, Y/N. Tonight feels… special.”

You returned his smile, feeling the truth in his words. “It does. I’m looking forward to it.”

The walk through Velaris was quiet and peaceful, with only the soft murmur of the city and the gentle rush of the Sidra River accompanying your steps. Azriel led you through winding streets, each more charming than the last, until you arrived at your destination—a small, secluded restaurant nestled at the edge of the city, overlooking the river.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, its entrance tucked between two tall buildings, with a beautifully carved wooden sign hanging above the door. Soft, golden light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow onto the cobblestone street outside. As Azriel opened the door for you, you were greeted by the cozy, intimate atmosphere inside. The interior was all dark wood and rich, deep colors, with low-hanging chandeliers that gave off a soft, inviting light. The tables were set with fine linens and polished silver, each one adorned with a small vase of fresh flowers.

Azriel guided you to a corner table near a large window that offered a stunning view of the river, its waters shimmering under the starlit sky. The space was quiet, the other patrons speaking in hushed tones, as if respecting the privacy of each table.

“This place is beautiful,” you remarked, taking in the ambiance as you settled into your seat.

Azriel smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorite places in the city—a bit of a hidden secret.”

You glanced around, noting the small details that made the place feel special—the soft music playing in the background, the delicate scent of the flowers, the way the light flickered gently from the candles on the tables. It was clear that Azriel had chosen this place with care, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture made your heart warm.

As you both perused the menu, the conversation flowed easily, beginning with the lighter topics of the day. After placing your orders, you found yourself curious about Azriel’s childhood, a side of him that you had never truly explored before.

“So,” you began with a playful smile, “tell me, what was it like growing up with Rhysand and Cassian? I imagine the three of you must have gotten into quite a bit of trouble.”

Azriel chuckled, a soft, genuine sound that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You could say that. Rhysand was always the leader, even back then, and Cassian… well, he was always looking for the next adventure. I was the quiet one, trying to keep them out of too much trouble, but somehow, I always ended up in the thick of it with them.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “Any stories you’re willing to share?”

Azriel thought for a moment, a distant look in his eyes as he recalled memories from long ago. “There was this one time when we were barely teenagers. Rhys had this idea to sneak into the Night Court’s library after hours. There was this old, restricted section that we weren’t supposed to go near, full of ancient texts and magical tomes.”

You smiled, already picturing the scene. “Let me guess, Rhys wanted to read something forbidden?”

“Of course,” Azriel replied, his tone amused. “He convinced Cassian and me to come along, promising it would be worth it. We managed to sneak past the guards, and Rhys found a book he’d been eyeing for months. But as soon as he opened it, a magical trap triggered. The entire library lit up, alarms blaring. We barely made it out before the guards arrived.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you didn’t get caught.”

“Oh, we did,” Azriel admitted with a grin. “And we were punished accordingly. But Rhys, being Rhys, somehow talked our way out of the worst of it. He’s always had a way with words.”

You could see the fondness in Azriel’s eyes as he spoke of his friends, the bonds they had formed over the years clearly unbreakable. It was a side of him you hadn’t seen often—relaxed, open, and willing to share pieces of himself that he usually kept hidden.

“And what about you?” Azriel asked, turning the conversation back to you. “What was your childhood like? I know you traveled a lot with your master, but there must have been some interesting moments along the way.”

You took a sip of your wine, considering how to answer. “It was… different. My master was strict, but he cared for me in his own way. I learned a lot from him, not just about blacksmithing, but about the world. We traveled to so many places, each with its own challenges and adventures. I suppose I grew up faster than most.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “You must have seen and experienced so much. It’s no wonder you’re as skilled as you are.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his words. “I suppose I have. But I’ve always felt like there’s more to learn, more to explore. That’s what keeps me going.”

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly as the night went on. The food arrived, each dish more delicious than the last, and you both took your time savoring the meal, the comfortable silence between you punctuated by occasional remarks about the flavors and presentation.

Eventually, as the meal began to wind down, Azriel leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “So, how are things at the shop? It seems like you’ve been busy lately.”

You nodded, setting down your fork. “Busy is an understatement. We’ve had a lot of orders coming in, which is great, but it’s been a bit overwhelming at times.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly. “Anything in particular causing the stress?”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to share the details of the strange order you had received that morning. “Actually, there was something unusual that came in today. A man came by with a sealed letter, requesting a weapon that’s… well, different from anything I’ve crafted before. The whole thing felt off, to be honest. He didn’t want to discuss the details in person, just handed over the letter and left.”

Azriel’s curiosity was piqued, his expression serious now. “What kind of weapon did he request?”

You described the contents of the letter, the specific materials required, the urgency of the timeline, and the vagueness of the client’s instructions. As you spoke, Azriel’s frown deepened, his concern evident.

“That does sound strange,” he said after a moment. “And dangerous. You’re right to be cautious.”

You nodded, grateful for his validation. “I’m not sure what to make of it. I’ve been debating whether to take the order at all. It feels like there’s more to this than I’m being told.”

Azriel leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle but firm. “I think you’re right to be wary. Whoever this client is, they might be hiding something. If you’re going to proceed with this, you should be prepared for anything.”

You appreciated his concern, and the protectiveness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll show you the letter when we head back. Maybe you can help me figure out what to do next.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze steady. “I’d like that. We’ll look at it together.”

The seriousness of the conversation lingered for a moment, but Azriel was quick to steer the topic back to something lighter, easing the tension and bringing back the relaxed atmosphere.

The dinner stretched on into the night, with more laughter, shared stories, and the easy comfort of each other's company. The restaurant had thinned out as other patrons gradually departed, leaving the two of you in a peaceful, intimate silence. It felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the rest of Velaris fading into the background.

When the time finally came to leave, Azriel stood and helped you into your jacket, the warmth of his hands lingering on your shoulders. As you stepped out into the cold night air, he reached for your hand without hesitation, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, as if they were always meant to be there.

The two of you walked side by side through the quiet streets of Velaris, the city bathed in the soft, silver light of the moon. The stars twinkled brightly above, casting a gentle glow over the cobblestones, and the distant sound of the Sidra River added a soothing backdrop to the night.

The winter air was crisp, and when a particularly cold breeze swept through, Azriel instinctively drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to shield you from the chill. You welcomed the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm against your side.

As you walked, your thumb gently caressed the back of his hand, feeling the roughness of the scarred skin beneath your touch. You noticed how his breath hitched slightly, and when you glanced up at him, you saw something flicker in his eyes—a mix of surprise and something deeper, something tender.

Azriel’s hands had always been a point of insecurity for him, scarred from countless battles and years of wielding shadows and steel. But you had never once questioned them, never looked at them with anything other than acceptance. In fact, you had always found them strong, capable, and a part of who he was—someone you respected and cared for deeply.

The simple act of you caressing his hand, without hesitation or judgment, made Azriel’s heart flutter in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the way you saw him—not as the scarred, hardened warrior, but as someone worthy of affection and tenderness.

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening as he spoke. “You never asked about my hands.”

You looked up at him, your expression gentle. “There’s nothing to ask. They’re a part of you, Azriel. And I’ve never seen them as anything but… you.”

His heart swelled at your words, and he tightened his grip on your hand slightly, as if anchoring himself to the moment. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled up at him, your thumb still brushing gently against his skin. “Always.”

The two of you continued walking, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as the night unfolded around you. The streets of Velaris were nearly empty, the city’s usual hustle and bustle replaced by the peaceful quiet of the late hour. The stars above seemed to shine even brighter, casting a silvery glow over everything and creating an almost magical atmosphere.

As you walked, you found yourself asking a question that had been on your mind. “Azriel, what do you think life will be like for you in the next few years?”

He paused, considering your question as he looked up at the night sky. “Honestly? I think it’ll be much the same as it is now. My duties as the Spymaster of the Night Court will keep me busy—there’s always something to uncover, some threat to deal with. And, of course, Cassian will never stop making jokes at my expense.”

You chuckled at that, picturing the constant banter between Azriel and Cassian. “I’m sure he keeps things interesting.”

Azriel smiled, his gaze shifting back to you. “He does. But… I think I’m starting to appreciate the moments of peace more, the times when I can step back and just… be.”

“And what about you?” he asked, his tone curious. “What do you see in the next few years?”

You took a moment to think about it, your eyes drifting to the beautiful city around you. “I think I’ll stay in Velaris for a long time. Alex and I have built something special here, and I want to see it grow. The shop is doing well, and I’d like to keep developing it, maybe even expand one day. Stellan will keep us company, of course.”

Azriel nodded, listening intently. “That sounds… peaceful. It suits you.”

You smiled softly, feeling a sense of contentment in the vision you were painting. But as you walked, the conversation took a natural pause, and you both found yourselves stopping, turning to face each other in the quiet street.

There was something unspoken hanging in the air, a tension that had been building throughout the night, and it felt like the moment to address it had finally arrived. You met Azriel’s gaze, your heart pounding softly in your chest as you spoke.

“Whatever happens in the next few years,” you began, your voice steady but soft, “I hope that… we’ll be close. That we’ll be linked somehow.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Linked, huh? I like the sound of that.”

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the moon and stars. The night was stunningly beautiful, the kind of night that seemed to embody everything the Night Court stood for—mystery, beauty, and an underlying power that was impossible to ignore.

Azriel’s hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your breath catch. He leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle at first, a sweet exploration of new territory. But as you responded, as you pressed closer to him, it deepened, growing more intense, more urgent. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer still, and you melted into him, letting the warmth of his embrace and the passion of the moment wash over you.

By the time you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The world seemed to have stopped around you, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the night.

Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, his breath warm against your lips. “Y/N…”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. “Yes, Azriel?”

He didn’t say anything else, just leaned in to kiss you again, his lips claiming yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And in that moment, under the stars of Velaris, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

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[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears. 

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips. 

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-" 

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt. 

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this? 

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now. 

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back. 

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning. 

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up. 

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

~-~

Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Eleven: Accidents and Reveals

Summary: Saiki has an accident on the beach with the hotel. However, the worst part of his day is having a heart.

            (Y/N) walked through the grounds of the hotel. After all day of being with people, they had wanted a moment to themself, and on the beach, they could see the stars, so they walked down to the end of the beach before returning to the hotel. ((Y/N) knew it was the curfew, and they were late, but oops).

            They arrived at the beach chairs of the hotel and saw Saiki and Toritsuka. (Y/N) brightened upon seeing them (mostly Saiki).

            (Y/N) opened their mouth to call out when they saw Saiki lift a hand and a giant shipwreck floated out of the hole where their hotel should be.

            …

            In the moment (Y/N) took to (unsuccessfully) process that, the shipwreck disappeared and was replaced by their hotel.

            “What the hell?!” they cried.

            Toritsuka and Saiki froze. Slowly—nearly creaking—they turned to face (Y/N). Toritsuka and Saiki turned blank, and (Y/N) stared just as blankly back.

            “Saiki, they saw!” cried Toritsuka. “Do something!”

            “If I try to do anything, I’ll lose control,” said Saiki. Without his receiver, his powers were way too powerful.

            “Saiki, did you do that?” said (Y/N), eyes wide.

            Saiki was silent, and Toritsuka looked at him nervously.

            “I did.” Saiki risked it all and spoke the truth. “I’m a psychic.”

            “As in telepathy, psychokinesis, teleporting, and all that stuff?” said (Y/N) slowly.

            “Yes.”

            Silence followed. Toritsuka looked between (Y/N) and Saiki nervously. Saiki was sincerely wishing he could read (Y/N)’s thoughts.

            “Okay,” said (Y/N).

            Toritsuka’s jaw fell open. “That’s all?!”

            “It’s Saiki,” said (Y/N), smiling and shrugging. “I know he’s a good person, and I’m his friend. This is just another part of who he is. It doesn’t change what I think of him.” They laughed nervously. “Even if knowing he can hear my thoughts is awkward.” After all, I have a crush on him, and he hates that stuff…

            “I can’t hear yours,” said Saiki.

            “You can’t?” said (Y/N). Then that meant…

            “Your earrings mean I can’t,” said Saiki.

            I’m never taking these off, thought (Y/N). “Alright.”

            “You’re really just okay with this?!” shouted Toritsuka. “Even I thought it was crazy and am scared of him!”

            “You’re scared of Saiki?” said (Y/N), cocking their head in surprise. “Why?”

            “Because I know what he thinks,” said Saiki.

            “Oh, ew, that sounds worse for you,” said (Y/N), looking at Toritsuka distastefully.

            Toritsuka laughed nervously as he realized he was drawing attention from (Y/N) and Saiki for all the wrong reasons. “Aha, shouldn’t we focus on the hotel?”

            “It’s back,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            Toritsuka deadpanned. He thought they were way too okay with everything already.

            “We need my receiver,” said Saiki, pointing to his head where he was missing one. “Or else I might have another accident.” He turned towards Toritsuka. “So what did you do with it?”

            “What?” said Toritsuka. “I didn’t take it! I swear.”

            Saiki frowned slightly. Toritsuka wasn’t lying. “Then who…” He straightened as he overheard Mera and Yumehara talking in their room. Teruhashi was missing. “It was Teruhashi. She disappeared somewhere with my control device. I’ll find her with my clairvoyance.” Saiki crossed his eyes. “Oh, she’s okay.”

            “That’s good,” said (Y/N), breathing a sigh of relief.

            Saiki saw a bear in his vision. “Oh, no, she’s not okay!” He looked at (Y/N). “Keep track of Toritsuka while he looks like Teruhashi.” Without any explanation of what that meant, Saiki teleported away.

            (Y/N) blinked and turned towards Toritsuka. “What did he…” they trailed off as all they saw was Teruhashi in front of them. “Oh.”

            Toritsuka beamed “Do I look like her?! Oh, man, perfect! I can get into the girl’s dorms—”

            “Don’t even think about it!” chirped (Y/N) cheerfully.

l

            (Y/N) was relieved when the real Teruhashi returned to the dorm, safe and sound. No one else noticed the change, but (Y/N) had been up all night watching for her, and when a body appeared in her bed after everyone was asleep, they could breath a sigh of relief knowing everything had gone alright. (Y/N) hesitated a moment before taking out their earrings.

            Good job, Saiki.

            (Y/N) put their earrings back in, satisfied with the message they’d sent, and promptly lay down to sleep. They were exhausted. Way too much had happened today, and, hey, no matter how well they took it, learning that their (best) friend (and crush) had psychic powers changed your perspective on the world. (Y/N) deserved a good sleep to digest that.

l

            Saiki stood on the beach, ready to teleport back to his own house for a proper sleep.

            Good job, Saiki.

            He paused. Those were (Y/N)’s thoughts. He’d never heard them before. He had to admit, their voice sounded better in his head than others.

            Saiki allowed himself a smile. And then he promptly schooled his expression. Something was going on with him, and it was just his own exhaustion keeping him from figuring it out. Saiki would have to confront it soon, though. He had no choice.

l

            The following morning, everyone gathered for breakfast, and no one seemed to have noticed anything amiss from the previous night.

            “When’d you come back yesterday, Saiki?” asked Kaidou. “You weren’t in the room at lights-out, were you? Where’d you go?”

            Well, people had noticed a bit, but not enough to really worry.

            “He went to find me,” said (Y/N), smiling. “I went on a walk down the and forgot about the time.”

            “Oh, okay,” said Kaidou.

            Saiki glanced at (Y/N). They seemed so…fine, even though he’d probably destabilized their entire view of the world with the reveal of his powers. How were they alright? How was (Y/N) so accepting?

            Something in his heart beat a moment quicker. Saiki couldn’t understand (Y/N)’s calm, easy acceptance of him, but he was…glad of it. Just glad.

l

            The pineapple farm visit had gone about as Saiki expected. Mera had eaten a ton of samples and had to be pulled away by Yumehara. Teruhashi was gifted whole pineapples to take back home with her. Toritsuka made inappropriate jokes about fruits (as compared to women’s you-know-whats) and grossed out everyone.

            The aquarium also let everyone mess around and just be themselves.

            “Whoa! It’s huge!” Nendou stared at the whale shark with wide eyes. “Isn’t that Capture Level for that thing at least twenty?!” (He thought Pokémon and real animals were the same thing, unsurprisingly).

            “Hmph. So your world is shrouded in darkness, too, huh?” said Kaidou, smirking as he looked at the “Ecology of Deep Sea Fish” display.

            “Wow, the fish are gathering around Teruhashi,” said Hairo, surprised.

            An entire school of fish had swum up to the window to just stare at Teruhashi as she smiled and was fawned over as usual.

            “They’ve mistaken her for a mermaid!” exclaimed another classmate.

            That accounted for all of Saiki’s friends bothers except one. Saiki looked around and spotted (Y/N) looking at a tank of betta fish. They caught his eyes, smiled, and waved him over.

            Saiki decided that it wouldn’t be terrible to stand with them (translation: he’d enjoy himself). He walked over and looked at the display they were enjoying.

            It was a tank of betta fish swimming around, and they were all beautiful and multicolored.

            “Look, that one’s pink, just like your hair,” said (Y/N), gesturing to one and smiling. “It’s a Saiki fish.”

            Saiki had to begrudgingly agree that if he transformed into a betta fish he might actually be that color. “It is.”

            (Y/N) chuckled to themself and read the display on the fish themselves. Saiki watched them and furrowed his brow. They were acting so normal, and he still couldn’t reconcile what he thought their reaction would be (should be?) and what it was.

            “Are you sure you’re okay?” He couldn’t help but ask. (Y/N) was…Well, they meant something to him. He couldn’t help but check in on them.

            “Huh?” (Y/N) frowned. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

            “With what I told you last night,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) burst out laughing. “Oh, Saiki, of course I am.”

            Saiki gave them a deadpan look of disbelief, and (Y/N) shook their head in amusement and waved a hand.

            “Seriously, Saiki. I don’t care. I mean, sure, it was a lot to learn about, but I don’t care. The…power thing I can deal with,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “Even if it takes a moment.” They smiled warmly. “But I don’t need to deal with what I think about you. That doesn’t change. I told you that last night, and I was serious.”

            “I think you have a screw loose,” said Saiki bluntly.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes. “Saiki, you’re my friend. There’s not much you could say to make that change. And having, you know, unusual abilities isn’t one of those things.”

            “You really don’t care.” Saiki stared at them, trying to understand their mind.

            “Why would I?” said (Y/N) as if it was the easiest statement in the world. They smiled, and Saiki thought the entire air warmed around them with their kindness. “I care about who you are, not what you can do. And to me, you’re just Saiki. Now you’re Saiki who can do cool stuff. It’s just a new part of you I’m honored to learn about.”

            Without another word, (Y/N) happily turned away and walked down to another tank of the aquarium. Apparently, their words felt so truthful and obvious that moving on was no problem.

            Behind them, Saiki was left with many more thoughts than (Y/N) had.

            They really don’t care. They don’t think any differently of me. I’m still just Saiki. Their friend.

            Saiki’s heart thrummed at the word, and he watched them go. He was…glad—no, happy—that (Y/N) accepted him. They meant so much to him, and to know that they still saw him in the same way and didn’t care about his powers meant just as much. It solidified what Saiki had been trying to avoid thinking of for quite a while: what (Y/N) really meant to him.

            Friend had been the right word for only a brief moment as Saiki came to accept what he thought. But now, with this reveal on his part and their complete acceptance and continued respect of him as a person, Saiki was forced to reconcile with the beating of his heart, normally so still.

            Saiki had feelings for (Y/N). He had a crush on (Y/N).

            It was an entirely new feeling, but he knew it was true. He wanted to be around them. He liked their presence, looked for them in crowds, anticipated seeing them. And now, Saiki knew that they understood every part of him and still cared about him—as a friend, he had to remind himself. And that meant the world. (Y/N) was his friend, yes, and he appreciated them as that. But underneath, in his own heart, he cared about them as more.

            “(Y/N).”

            They glanced back in confusion as Saiki walked up to them again. It was rare he used their name, even though (Y/N) had asked him long ago to call them by their first name.

            “Yeah, Saiki?” said (Y/N).

            “…Call me Kusuo.” He didn’t try to explain why.

            He could lie and say it was just easier, or tell a part of the truth that he had been more honest with (Y/N) than he had been with anyone else in his life. That they were the first person he’d chosen on his own to tell about his powers and he was honored that they respected him still and wanted to acknowledge (Y/N) was his friend.

            But Saiki didn’t say anything.

            That didn’t matter. He had a feeling that (Y/N) understood as they gazed at him warmly.

            “Alright, Kusuo.”

            Oh, wow.

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[iznyangwoni]

EASY TO LOVE | chapter seventeen !

You’re in the bathroom fixing up your makeup when suddenly lots of giggling girls come in. You know a few of them, mostly because of parties, but its not like you’re their friend. You can barely remember their names.

You’re minding your own business but then you hear Jungwon’s name. And it’s not like you want to eavesdrop, but you’re there, and it seems like they’re speaking loud enough for you to hear. So… you try to pay a little bit more attention to them.

“He’s totally into you.” “Actually, i think he might like me more, i look more like his type anyway.” You chuckle at their conversation. God, do they really think they have a chance with Jungwon? He might be mad at you, but its not like he’s going to forget you any time soon… right?

“And what would his type be?” The bathroom falls silent at that question, and out of curiosity you raise your eyes to look at them through the mirror and yes, they’re looking at you. “Tch.” You sigh, finishing putting on your lip oil.

“Oh… hi Y/n.” You glance at the girl in the center, the one who was saying so proudly how Jungwon might like her more. “You and… You and Jungwon aren’t together, right?” “We never dated in the first place.” They were all so brave behind your back, but now that you’re looking at them they’re acting so awkward.

The girls nod at your answer, and honestly you should leave it at this and just go back to class, but you want to act like a little bitch just a little more. “So.. you think you’re as pretty as me, Jiwon?” You smile at the younger girl, taking a step towards her. “No! No I meant like… we’re the same height, i guess.”

You laugh at that, she’s definitely shorter than you, but that’s not the point. “I’m just kidding.” You say, but you’re a hundred percent serious. You put your lip products back into your bag, getting ready to leave. “I’m done playing with him, you know? You can have him now.”

You walk towards the door, but before you can actually leave you turn around to say one last thing. “I don’t usually love secondhand stuff, but you do you, right?” And with that you finally leave. You sigh, you had imagined Jungwon would be popular once you guys stopped hanging out, but you didnt think it would take so little time, nor that it would’ve affected you this way.

You start walking towards the hallway when you suddenly hear more steps. “Secondhand stuff?” Fuck. You forgot that the boys and girls bathroom were connected. You turn around, Jungwon is standing there with his arms crossed. You dont want to fight again, the last few days’ crying was enough.

You run a hand through your hair, a tired expression on your face, but then you notice the smirk on his. “Do you want to be left alone yes or no?” He chuckles, shaking his head. He’s not too far from you, and you hate how pretty you find him, he still has that annoyed expression, but its not as bad as last time.

“I won’t thank you.” You shrug, its not like you need his thanks. You keep silent, thinking that it will make him go away, but instead he stays there, his eyes on you. Oh you hate this, can’t he just leave you alone? Does he really have to look at you with those eyes, his lips pursed and his brows furrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You almost whisper those words, the desperation in your voice clear. “Like what?” “Like you hate me.” He sighs and you rest your head and shoulder on the wall, he does the same right in front of you. “I don’t hate you.” Jungwon is trying his best to not reach out to you, he wishes he could just put his hand on your waist and kiss you again, but things arent so good right now.

“I’m just disappointed.” Again, you don’t say a word. You know he is, you can see it in his face, in his tone of voice. He doesn’t hate you but maybe you’d feel better if he did. “I’m surprised Minji even lets you talk to me.” “Oh, she doesn’t, in fact, she’d be mad if she were to find out.” He chuckles lightly before you both go quiet again. Your chest is going up and down slowly, you’re still looking at him tiredly, or maybe its sadness. You’re about to say that you have to go, but he speaks first.

“She’d be madder if she knew how much I like you, even after all you did.”

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[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Dressrosa (part 8)

Oh boy, here we go! Lots of love suffering for Law up ahead! And deep self-blaming for Luffy, ouch. By the end of this post there will be some Important Decisions to be made, which will leave unerasable trace on the story from now on.

Perfect beginning, Luffy is already not listening. Law is pissed, but he's pissed because he's worried heh.

Luffy broke a promise apparently, lol. I'm surprised he even promised to behave, because Luffy knows he can't behave very well. Geez, I guess he feels here really disappointed about himself. I love his panic, he looks just like Shanks from chapter 1. Law is yapping though, it's how he deals with his own worry and stress I guess, it seems he didn't truly expect Luffy to listen and be calm anyway. He's got Law to constantly blabble about it to him, like a walking reminder device.

It's interesting to me that Law presents it to Luffy in this way, because this is not the reason why Law himself fell for the provocation trap. It's because of his own worry that he lost his calm. Mingo didn't even do much back on that bridge. All it took was one call to strenghten security of the smiles factory. Not that he would ever admit that ofc.

Law is right though, Mingo will try different ways of provoking them, but he will focus mostly on Law. Luffy will also get one moment tho.

Scolding Luffy again. Get used to it, it will happen a lot lol.

I like this co-op of theirs here. Since Law's now got an opponent for himself, Luffy is choosing his enemy to fight with as well (and ofc he's going straight for Mingo). Or maybe is that his competitiveness from before? Honestly could be both!

Law, despite being in the middle of his own fight, still keeps his attenton on Luffy. What dedication! Luffy of course listens immediately. He might be misbehaving and breaking promises despite his efforts, but you can't blame Luffy for not *listening* to whatever Law is saying.

Bellamy's situation. Law's like "I don't know who he is to you, but knock him unconscious", but upon hearing Luffy declaring Bellamy as his friend, Law shuts up. He's not gonna tell Luffy to fight his friend, especially not after Doflamingo declares "one good punch might finish him", even if he's aware it might be a bluff. Law actually doesn't complain about it even for a second afterwards, not even after Luffy's struggling leads to Law's arm being severed. No, what Law does instead in the end, is to make sure to bring that unconscious guy to their hideout so they can fix him up, because he heard Luffy call him a friend.

Law didn't need to be told to do that, hearing Luffy's declaration was enough for him to know what should be done. How can anyone still doubt that Law is actually a good person after that? If Luffy's trust in Law isn't enough for people, logical argument like that should do. Law had no personal business rescuing Bellamy, he actually would be completely justified if he ended up having a grudge against that guy, he almost lost his own life because of him. But no, Law is a better person than that.

That's exactly one of the reasons why I think Luffy and Law complement each other, they don't have to communicate stuff like that, they just work it out because they feel the same way about important stuff!

Luffy falls for Mingo's provocation and undermines Law's ultimate strategy for the fight at the same time. This is The Second Moment in which he completely ignores Law. First one was when punching Caesar. This time it's for Bellamy. This won't fix the situation, but both times all Luffy cares about is punching bad guys for the people he loves. Of course Law's not happy about that.

Law is petty here and he did keep his word later on, lol.

Despite the sudden turn of action, Law is composed enough to control the situation on the spot in the midst of the chaos. Truly a surgeon, even in a fight, always keeps himself on steady legs and with composed mind, ready for quick and unexpected decisions. Funny and curious, because privately he is anything but that, stalling whenever he doesn't feel mentally ready for things.

Luffy kinda deserved to hear that. And took it as a compliment, that cheeky bastard :D he even remembers to give it back!

This is probably one of the snarkiest remarks Luffy has ever said in the series. And it's no surprise he serves it to Law, seeing as Law is The Person he wants to impress so badly. But don't think Luffy came up with it all on his own! Because...

...Luffy kinda stole it from Cavendish lol.

Also Luffy heard about worst gen twice before, but ofc he didn't remember. The first time he actually showed any interest was when he learned it's something he has in common with who? Oh right, his new favourite person, Law, back on Punk Hazard.

He retained that info in his brain just so he can impress Law later on that he knows the term. Yep. It's adorable.

But don't worry, Law is trying to impress him back as well. Just look at this showy pose he's presenting lol.

Funny thing here: I think Law actually said it on purpose to mislead Doflamingo. Law is already plotting in his head how to use that trick again and a bluff like that is already setting the ground for it. Law's a strategist through and through. I like how natural he is at it, it just looks like any other time he's scolding Luffy, heh.

Meanwhile Luffy is kinda satisfied, probably overplays it because he must be aware he made Law mad.

Downed at nearly the same time heh. Luffy's worrying over Law on the battlefield. Not the first or last time it will happen haha. You don't see Luffy screaming like that for Zoro, for example. And it's not because Luffy doesn't believe Law is strong. He literally just can't help himself, the worry is killing him inside. Dressrosa is indeed a country of love and (unstoppable) passion.

This is interesting, because in each of those panels Luffy and Law react exactly the same way. Law already knew that Doflamingo was a celestial dragon, but it still hits him hard. Then both of them react to the "witnessed both heaven and hell by the age of ten" line. For Law, it's self-explanatory, Flevance fell when he was 10 years old, before that it was probably close to heaven in comparison to what happened next. For Luffy though, I guess it's about losing Sabo.

And then there's the most puzzling line. "You can't escape the nature you were born with", Luffy and Law clearly snap at that, they disagree. For Luffy it's easy to understand, his grandpa wanted him to be a marine, perhaps because their family were all marines, but Luffy became a pirate instead. For Law, it's not as clear. Perhaps he was meant to be a doctor and became a pirate by circumenstances. After all, by now, Law is more than just a doctor.

Luffy's getting beat up and thrown one level below, but Law is for once too distracted to even react to this in time. Why? Because Doflamingo is talking about something very disturbing. What would humans do to a fallen celestial dragon, indeed? Law isn't feeling pity for Doflamingo, for sure not at this point, but Mingo had a brother once and that brother must have been also a celestial dragon. Law is thinking of all the hell Cora-san must have endured, because he never heard about it before. That and accepting the fact Cora-san was a celestial dragon in the first place, must be a lot for Law to process.

Freaking doting on each other in the middle of the life or death battle, ffs. Go get a room you two, you're completely embarrassing to me!

Even Doffy thinks it's disgusting at this point. Also he saw right through Law's words: he was totally bragging about Luffy and adding on top of that "I'm just like him!" proudly. I swear Law gets like that only if no one important is actually listening. Yes, Mingo, you're no one important in this scenario.

Luffy also worries a lot about Torao through the whole battle. It comes up so often I lost count.

"Don't make me die in vain here, Mugiwara-ya!" he might be thinking, but Luffy did save him in this moment actually.

This carries a lot of weight, because earlier Luffy was humiliated by receiving help from Mingo. Now he asks him to stop Bellamy. This really matters a lot to Luffy. Mingo does the favour because he knows it won't matter anyway.

"He won't be able to save you", that's how the master manipulator Mingo chose to make fun of Law. It's almost too true. Meanwhile Law just flips him a finger, he's not having any of it. Is it the faith in Luffy or just his affection speaking here? We might never know. Either way, it's one of the two most dedicated to Luffy moments Law shows.

Not even Mingo truly understands Law's symbol on the back, *just saying*, it's getting a bit hilarious :D

The heartbreak is real. "What happened to your arm?!" you would think that's nothing, but remember Shanks also lost an arm for Luffy, Luffy really didn't like that. He doesn't want another important person to him losing their limbs for Luffy. He probably also blames himself here "if I just didn't take so much time with Bellamy!".

That's the first time Luffy heard that Law considers him "a miracle worker", probably thinking himself he doesn't deserve to be called that. That's a phrase that proves that Law is ultimately impressed with Luffy and his feats, but Luffy isn't happy to hear that at this cost! Not to mention Luffy doesn't consider himself impressive if he just lost another dear person to him (or is about to lose one).

Luffy refuses to believe Torao is dead. He hates Mingo using "Mugiwara-ya" (are they both super possessive about each other's nicknames? oh ffs!).

And this is Law's payback. He could have shambled himself so both him and Luffy do a combined attack, imagine! But nah, since Luffy freaking wasted their plan at the very beginning of the fight, Law's not collaborating. Petty bastard! Luffy doesn't mind, he just tells him to "Go!" and that's kinda wholesome actually. Also doesn't happen often with Luffy, does it?

Communicating through whispers or are those whispers? Hm :) I love how Torao already expects Luffy to turn around and tells him not to before it happens haha. He knows him well.

Protecting and supporting Torao. Believe it or not, this is The First Time it happens in the whole fight. Before that they just fought side by side, now though? Luffy is alright being Law's backup. And people still push the agenda of "Law would never become Luffy's subordinate!", well, Luffy had no problem acting like a subordinate for Law here. Take that, powerscalers! And it's not the only time Luffy will do it in this fight. Law can take the spotlight and Luffy just won't mind. But he would do it only for Law. It never happened before or for anyone else.

Luffy's all ready to beat up Mingo into a pulp for Torao, but Torao isn't done yet. Luffy is taken so much aback. If Luffy wonders how he can still move, while he's the zombie himself usually after being defeated multiple times and always standing back, then that speaks volumes about Law's outstanding resilience and unbreakable will and stamina. Also Luffy is just impressed and super worried at the same time.

Anime in Wano played with this beautifully, in the "playing chicken" challenge. Luffy calls Law "weak-willed" to provoke him to accept the challenge. He knew Law is anything but that. He also knew Law wouldnt let it slide. It's all thanks to this moment in Dressrosa.

Stay out of this! - Luffy scream and just watches over Torao. He's not gonna interfere anymore, he's just a backup, he gives away the spotlight, and that despite the fact he wanted so badly to beat Mingo himself! Remember how many times he screamed that when they were racing to the palace's plateau? He even quarreled with Torao who will be the one to defeat Mingo. What about Luffy's crewmates? Rebecca? Right now nothing else matters, only that Law can get things even with Mingo.

Everything changed after this fight for Luffy and things will never go back to how they were before. There will be no more Luffy wanting to take the credit all for himself anymore or be the only one to beat up the bad guy. In Wano Luffy promised he will defeat Kaido, but even before the fight started he asked Momo and Kin'emon to announce to people that the whole alliance achieved that, not just Luffy in particular. Dressrosa changed everything.

Next part will be probably the last one of the Dressrosa arc!

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 1: Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, divorce, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, best friend fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Here we go!! I’m so excited to share this. this story is very near and dear to my heart as all of these songs are very special to me in one way or another. I will warn this is a bit of a slowburn, and there’s a lot of flashbacks/memories in the chapters to showcase the extent of the relationship between the characters. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 I can’t wait to hear what you guys think

I usually have a listen while reading section, and it’s mostly a suggestion, but it’s imperative that you listen to the song stated in the title at least before reading, as every chapter is directly related to each one. If that’s not your thing, at least give the lyrics a quick read over! Much love 🫶🏻

SIX YEARS LATER

“Holy fuck, you have a lot of stuff.” Your best friend let out a dramatic huff as she dropped an overflowing box to the ground. You looked back at her over your shoulder, letting out a small chuckle as she pushed her long hair away from her forehead. She was tired, that much was obvious, and so were you. Still, despite your aching bodies and worn down minds, the two of you persevered with faith that the end goal would be worth all of the suffering.

“So do you.” You reminded her, folding a t-shirt and setting it neatly atop a pile of clothes you had been focused on. “Don’t hear me complaining about it.”

“Yeah, as if.” She scoffed. You could hear the roll of her eyes in her tone, striking a small smile on your face as she took a step towards you. “All you do is complain.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it pisses you off.” You grinned, grabbing an old pair of jeans from the mound of clothes you pulled from your closet. You looked over the tired material, your lips turning down into a frown as you tossed them into a pile on the ground, knowing there was no sense in keeping them when they looked one wear away from disintegrating.

“I’m kidding, you know that.” She assured you, making it clear that she wasn’t truly as upset as her words seemed. She began moving another box from your bed to the hallway, huffing as she bargained with the weight of the item. She was stacking them outside your door to allow for some more space inside the already tiny room.

Despite the smallness and the outdated decor, it felt nice to be back, sleeping on the same comfortable mattress you’d grown so used to when you lived at home. In truth, the lack of space was mostly credited to your oversized bed; you had begged your mom for a king size, asking for it for every Christmas and birthday from the ages of ten to sixteen until she finally cracked and made the purchase. Turns out, it was a great purchase, because six years and a graduate degree later, you and your best friend were sharing it while you prepared to move into your own apartment a few towns over.

You had traveled to Mel’s hometown almost a month prior, tearing apart her childhood bedroom just the same as you were doing to your own. You packed boxes full of her belongings, spending some quality time with her parents while learning and laughing about the funniest of all her childhood stories. Just like her, her parents were fun, free spirited and more accepting than even you could comprehend. They took you in with open arms, extending their gratitude for loving their daughter so dearly while she was so far away from home.

In truth, the pleasure was all yours, because in your six years at university, you felt as though Mel was the reason that you not only survived, but flourished. The two of you clicked instantly when you met, finding each other during your first week of freshman year in an intro to classic literature class. You bonded over your mutual dislike for your monotone professor who had to make an effort to be so disinterested in her own syllabus, and from there, the rest was history.

“You know, I actually liked Jane Eyre before I took this class.” You muttered under your breath, casting a sideways glance at the girl sitting next to you.

Her dirty blonde hair hung over her face, her eyes focused on a piece of empty paper in an unused notebook as she clutched a black pen in her hand. Every time the professor would switch slides on her PowerPoint, she would jump to write something down, but stop once she realized that once again, the gray haired woman was spewing nothing of significance.

Her skin was sunkissed, like she had spent all summer on the beach (or in a tanning bed—who were you to judge?), and her clothes were cute, but comfortable. Her brown eyes flickered to meet yours, her head turning ever so slightly to give you a glimpse of her face through her thick locks of wavy hair. The warmth within them was familiar, like you had seen them before in someone else you loved so dearly. You swallowed hard, forcing the thought out of your head. You were nervous, yet still excited at the thought of making a new friend, wondering if your words held any value to her, or if she would tell you to shut up.

Since moving to town, you hadn’t found one person you clicked with. You met lots of rich boys who threw their money in your face in hopes of convincing you to sleep with them, and plenty of girls who turned their nose up at your jeans with holes in the knees. They all looked like they stepped out of a magazine, and you felt completely out of place as you tried to break free from your small town habits. You dressed the same as you did in senior year, barely understanding how to be a university student and definitely lacking in the fashion department. You wore makeup to parties, but never anywhere else, mostly because in the years prior, you never felt the need to impress anyone.

Your long term relationship in high school left you more than secure with yourself, happy if you were comfortable and confident without any external aids. Now that he wasn’t by your side, you realized just how dearly he loved you, because without a pristine outward appearance, all of the university-goers seemed to turn their heads as you walked by. You had yet to find anyone to make friends with, and definitely no romantic interests as you tried to mend the hole in your heart that formed when you left your boyfriend behind to start anew. You were lonely, and more importantly, desperate to find someone to talk to.

“UPenn, Ivy League with a 7% acceptance rate and an English program better than any of their competitors, if you survive it.” She cracked a small smile, keeping her voice hushed as she joined in on the joke. “Only place in the world you can pay 20k a year for someone to put you to sleep.” You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to swallow back the laugh stuck in your throat. You had sat beside the unnamed girl for your first three classes of the semester, but never found the courage to speak to her until that moment. She was the first person you had met that radiated a bit of life, something unique and alluring in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. More than that, when you looked at her, you felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. You were incredibly appreciative that she reciprocated any of your efforts at all.

“I think she put herself to sleep on Wednesday.” You confessed, recalling her slumped posture as she sat at her desk, waiting too long to engage in the group discussion after assigning an individual comprehension activity.

“Think she’s on her way there now, actually.” The girl nodded towards the front, suppressing a grin as she noticed the professor's drooping eyelids and extended bout of silence. The two of you shared a silent giggle, shaking shoulders and hurting bellies as you used all of your energy to silence yourselves in fear of getting caught. “I’m Mel, by the way.” She said, introducing herself after she calmed herself down.

“Y/N.” You replied, feeling better than you had in days. It felt nice to laugh, especially with someone who seemed to adorn the same sense of humour as your own. “Mel… is that short for Melanie? Or are you just ‘Mel’, cause that would be cool. Mysterious, even.”

“Neither, actually.” She chuckled, shifting in her seat so she was facing you a little better. “It’s short for ‘Mélange’, which is the stupidest fucking name I’ve ever heard.” She gave you a moment to digest the fact before explaining further, noticing your curious eyes as you held back another laugh. “My parents had me young, during their hippy-dippy era when they smoked too much weed and dressed like they were headed to Woodstock. Apparently it means ‘a mixture of dissimilar elements’, because I was made from different parts of them, or whatever. To me, it sounds like a really weird way of saying they had sex, and I really don’t think it meant that much to them back then. Probably just wanted to be the first to name their kid something, then realized how ridiculous it sounded so they had to come up with a story about it.”

“That’s… cool, though.” You stifled another laugh, finding her expression comedic as she rehashed the same story she used to explain her name every time someone asked.

“Yeah, cool unless it’s your own. Try growing up with that name and trying to survive the American public school system.” She shuddered at the thought, but a smile still lingered on her lips, telling you that she truly didn’t care that much anymore. “What about you? Your name short for anything, or are you just cool like that?”

From there, the title of best friends went without question. You did everything together, ranging from schoolwork to trips to the grocery store, hating the thought of being apart even while doing the most mundane tasks. You had made a pact to live together after graduation, unable to digest the idea of being apart when your university days ended, and you took the promise seriously. Since then, you did everything you could to ensure it happened, including travelling to her home state to pack up her shit so long as she promised to help you with yours. You both decided to go in the direction of teaching with your degrees, so you thought that if you lived together, you even had a shot of getting hired at the same school. Though, she seemed more keen on teaching younger students, and you leaned more towards high school.

There was lots still up in the air, especially without a solid job offer in line, but the two of you were determined to make it work, knowing that if you had each other, you could get through anything. Your mom was enough of a saint to house the two of you while you figured your shit out, and that’s what you were doing; packing, reminiscing, applying, and enjoying your life before things got too hectic again.

Despite it being manual labour, you quite enjoyed the experience of packing up your belongings, even though it did feel a bit melancholic at times. With every item you picked up, you were reminded of memories you’d shoved so far down that they were nearly forgotten. Although not all of them were the best, they were still important, and they showed you how far you had come when sometimes it felt like you made no progress at all. Mel was having a fantastic time for a whole different reason, finding your dramatic retelling of stories greatly comedic, and getting her first pick at the clothes you were planning on donating.

Being back at home with your family was different than it was all those years ago. Your mom, who had finally come to terms with the fact you were an adult, drank wine with you both in the evening as she got to know your best friend beyond what the surplus of FaceTime calls allowed over the years. You went on errands with her when you wanted to get away from packing, and enjoyed the things you once took for granted. Some nights, when she found herself a little too tipsy and reminiscent on the years that passed so quickly, she sat before you, weepy-eyed as she professed how proud she was of you. You felt like you were learning a whole new side of her, rather than the strict but loving one you knew all of that time ago. She was a woman who hurt and cried just as much as you did, who always put her kids first and held herself together when she was falling apart, just for the sake of being the rock in the house. You found yourself growing a whole new respect and a whole different kind of love for her, and you were grateful for the opportunity to see it.

Your younger sister, who was also staying at home for the summer, found herself hanging out in your room more often than not. There was much less arguments over who was spending more time in the bathroom, and no more mean words shared between the two of you that once flew so fast. In the early hours of the night, you finally had the chance to have the heart-to-hearts you missed out on when you were angry at each other over nothing important. She had grown up just as much as you had, and it almost pained you to see a woman standing in the shoes of the little girl you best knew her as.

Being in your hometown was different, and you had spent little time there since your studies began. Mostly for a few days during the holidays, and rarely any other time. When Mel pitched the idea of moving out of dorms and into an apartment, the visits grew much less frequent and when they did happen, it wasn’t usually for very long. You didn’t have many friends left in Frankenmuth, if any at all. The town was strange, a former village in which you had built a life that was now completely abandoned. Shops you used to love closed down for good and replaced with something new, old hideaways being changed into modern corporate hellscapes. Every year, there seemed to be new buildings lining the streets and different faces regularly appearing on sidewalks. It was home, for sure, but nowhere near as comfortable as it used to be. When you blundered around the town, you felt like a stranger visiting for the first time, learning everything all over again.

“Hey,” Mel caught your attention, pulling a cork board from your closet that had pictures tacked to the surface and small paper decorations in between. “Ms. Fishers sixth grade graduation!” She exclaimed, pointing to the banner of cardstock paper tacked to the top, the letters outlined with black sharpie and filled in with coloured marker. You laughed at the sight, realizing you hadn’t seen that board in years as you stepped towards her.

“That’s me!” You exclaimed, pointing to you standing in the mini-graduation gown at the very end of the front row. The class picture was sweet, but it made you wonder where everyone else in the class ended up. After all these years, were they nearing twenty five with no clue where they were headed, just like you? Or were they settled down with families, finding full time jobs and building lives with the people they loved?

The thought was saddening to you, making you realize how far away you were from getting to that point. A relationship was laughable, barely mentioning marriage and kids. In your six years of university, you had your fair share of hookups and flings, but never anything serious. You couldn’t seem to find anyone who you connected with further than physical attraction, and certainly nobody you would be willing to spend your life with. So far, the only compatible relationship for living was the girl standing next to you, and you were certain at some point, she would be ready to move on to something different.

“Look at this,” you stepped past her, grinning as you grabbed a cowboy hat from one of the handmade shelves at the top of your closet. Your dad, when he was still a good dad, made it for you so you could have some extra space. You placed the hat on your head, tilting it downwards over your face as you struck a pose. The dollar store gemstones you hot glued to the top glimmered under the light, making the sight even more ridiculous.

“What is that?” She asked, caught in a fit of laughter as she looked at the poorly decorated hat.

“I got really into spirit days at school.” You shrugged, tossing the hat in the pile of throwaway items.

“Loser.” She muttered, reaching for an old sports jacket suspended on a hanger. “Volleyball?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she read the words embroidered on the back.

“Yeah, tenth grade and never again. Coach was a bitch.” You explained, reaching for it to see if it still fit. As you made a move to slip it over your shoulders, you froze in place, knowing that even if it did fit, you would never wear it again. Instead, you threw it in the pile of clothes you were planning to drop off at the thrift store.

“Oh, cool!” You exclaimed, a shiny trophy catching your eye, hidden in the back corner of the top shelf. You brought it down, flashing it in her direction so she could read the gold panel.

“1st place…. Frankenmuth Middle School Relay?” She asked, unsure of what the award was for.

“Big race we used to do at the end of the year. Think the teachers got sick of lesson planning, so they brought us to the soccer field to do a bunch of activities. I was the fastest in the class that year.” You said, proud of the achievement as you placed it back upon the shelf.

“Is this a diary?” She asked, hauling an old leather bound book from a stack of papers and magazines.

“Yes,” you cackled, snatching it from her hands and flipping it open to a random page. “Let’s see… April 30th, 2010.” You cleared your throat for dramatic effects, beginning to read the entry aloud. “Today, in English class, Liam S. was totally checking me out. He’s definitely not the cutest guy in the class, but he’s funny, and he’s so nice. I hope he asks me to the spring dance, mom got me a new dress and everything!”

“And did Liam S. sweep you off your feet that night?” She asked, pulling her hands to her heart as she let out an airy sigh.

“No, but we did date.” You explained. “For three weeks, until I broke up with him for rating me too low on a hot or not list.”

“What!?” She exploded, her voice shrill as an echoing laugh boomed through the room.

“Yeah, apparently I only had the fourth best ass in the class.” You scoffed, quickly reading a little further into the book. You used to sit in your bedroom for hours at night, pouring your heart out on to the paper just for it to be forgotten in a mess of items in your room. “It’s funny, you know. I used to carry this thing with me everywhere, and I barely even remembered it existed.”

“Yeah, there was lots of stuff that I did the same thing with. Used to be a prized possession, now they just collect dust on a shelf somewhere.” She muttered, pulling out a large box sitting in the back corner. “And for the record, I bet you had the best ass out of anyone at that school.” She clarified, plopping the cardboard down on your mattress.

“No, I definitely didn’t.” You laughed, looking to the door as you heart a small pitter-patter of paws against the linoleum floor. The jingle of the bell around the collar signified your suspicions were correct, and when a fuzzy head peeked around the corner, you greeted him with excitement. “The man himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness!” You exclaimed, watching as the tubby black cat raised his tail and rubbed himself up against the doorframe. He let out a meow in response to your voice, happily trotting over to greet you.

“Don’t call him by his full name unless he does something wrong!” Mel scolded, reaching down to pick him up as he rubbed against her leg. “He won’t take us seriously if we use it all the time.” She plopped him down on the bed, the sound of his purring loud enough to reach both of your ears. He sniffed around the boxes a few times, nudging his face against the corner of the cardboard flaps to investigate the item taking up his place on the mattress.

“I don’t think he ever really takes us seriously, Mel.” You furrowed your brows together, looking from her to the small animal curiously meandering around the bed. “He gets treats and new toys every day, and we kiss him on the head after we scold him because we feel too bad about it.”

“Right, so don’t give away the last bit of power we have left.” She said, fixing the tag on his collar that somehow adorned his entire name in small print.

The cat was spoiled, loved so wholly and deeply by the two of you that sometimes you believed he was in charge. After a particularly rough exam week in your second last year of school, the two of you took a break from studying and took a walk downtown to clear your mind. You stopped at a coffee shop a few blocks away from your apartment building, where you found him, keeping content by playing with empty coffee cups in the nearby alleyway. Being two kindhearted people, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him behind. Within two weeks, he had made himself at home in your apartment, and not long after that, in your hearts, too. He went with you on every adventure; his harness being on more often than not. He tagged along in every road trip, and neither of you ever thought once about leaving him behind as you moved across the country again.

He was a witty and clever little thing, always sneaking into places he shouldn’t be and never allowing himself to go unnoticed. The minute you stepped in a room, he was squeaking at you to pet him, and never did he allow either of you to sit alone on the couch. He took turns sleeping with the both of you, and was happier than ever now that you shared a bed and he didn’t have to pick.

And yes, his full name was The Man Himself, Blizzard of Ozz: Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Oftentimes, Ozz sufficed.

The cat actually went unnamed for quite some time after you brought him home. Neither of you seemed keen on the names being suggested, so for a while, he went by ‘Mr. Man.’ Or some odd arangement of classic terms of endearment that got stranger by the day. Then, when the two of you found yourselves a little too high off some weed you bought from an upperclassman, the name made its first appearance. You both took turns rambling ridiculous titles for him, until you took a leap of faith and rattled off the first thing you thought of when Crazy Train played from your Bluetooth speaker. The laughing was so intense it brought the both of you to tears, and from there, it seemed to stick.

Now, you couldn’t think of a better name to call him, even if it was a little ridiculous.

Careful not to disturb him, Mel reached forward into the box, lifting a few items from it. Ozz busied himself by chewing on the cardboard flap, not privy to the woman beside him at all. “What’s all this stuff?” She asked, looking over a few sheets of Monopoly money, a cracked mirror from the dollar store, and a deck of playing cards.

“That must be the stuff I cleared out of my locker in senior year.” You said, turning your head downwards and peeking inside. “Yeah, it definitely is.” You confirmed, pulling out a set of string lights with a battery pack attached. “It’s all junk, you can throw it out.” You dismissed it, ready to move on to something new.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking between you and the box with great hesitancy. You casted another sideways glance, your lips pursing together as you wondered if it was worth your time.

Something in your heart told you not to jump so fast, to think about it a moment longer before discarding the memories away so easily. You tried not to be a sentimental person, because you found that sentiments only seemed to hurt you rather than bring you comfort. You used to be that type of person, so many moons ago when life was simple and the most you had to worry about was a surplus of homework and no pocket change to spend. Now, you thought it was ridiculous, and you did everything you could to draw a line between memories and objects. Items could not hurt, just the same as they could not be happy. They were objects, inanimate and unable to mean more than what you made them to be.

But there was something about that fucking box, like it was fate for you to rediscover all the things that awaited you inside.

“Let’s go through it.” You said, changing your mind as your skin prickled with curiosity. The emotion that took hold was unfamiliar, confusing and unsettling when you thought about throwing it away. It washed over you so quickly that you couldn’t even think of anything else, and you wondered if you were the very thing psyching yourself up for nothing, or if there was a reason you felt such a pull to the old items inside.

You sat on the side of your bed, your hands landing on the very corners as you gripped at the soft sheets lining the mattress. As you did so, a twang of hurt filled your chest, passing almost as soon as it came. You blinked hard, your eyes wandering the room as you tried to comprehend the sudden change in yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your mind racing as you looked at the old chestnut dresser that stood next to the door, standing prominently against the crimson paint on the walls. The scene was so familiar, just like the melancholic emotion that came along with it. The hurt in your heart seemed right as you sat on the edge of your bed, but you didn’t know why.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, also noticing the shift in your demeanor. Your head snapped towards her, your eyes glossy with the feeling that plagued you, but you nodded your head and tried your hardest to snap yourself out of it.

“Yeah, just a nasty little bit of deja-vu, I think.” You breathed, your eyes wandering back to the empty door frame. Whatever your brain wanted you to remember was pertinent to you, but you couldn’t seem to put it together yet. You felt like you’d been in the exact position before, but you couldn’t place it.

“I get it,” she empathized, taking a seat next to you and placing the box on the floor in front of her. “It’s a lot seeing all of your old stuff, like a lifetime you’ve completely forgotten about.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, the sound airy and forced. “I haven’t thought about high school in so long that it kind of just seems like a different world, now. I kind of forced myself to stop thinking about it, because it hurt too bad, you know? And I guess after a while, I blocked it out completely.” She knew what you meant, because in the entire time you’d known her, you had been unreasonably stingy with stories from your high school days. Every time she mentioned it, you seemed to go to a different place entirely, like you were using all of your energy to ensure the memories wouldn’t resurface. She respected you enough not to ask, but it was impossible to run away from now that you were standing face to face with the very things you tried so hard to stay away from.

“We don’t have to go through this, if you don’t want to.” She assured you, watching your face as your eyes fluttered towards the box.

“I do and I don’t.” You tried your best to explain how you felt, hesitant to reach out and explore the items before you, but gutted at the prospect of throwing it in the trash. “I feel like I’ve grown so much and I’m so different, and I don’t need to see any of this stuff again, but there’s something telling me I have to look through it all, that if I don’t, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.” She bargained with your words before she responded, carefully considering all you had to say.

“Seems like you’re looking for something, but you don’t know what it is.” She offered the idea with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, finally harnessing enough courage to reach forward and sort through the mess of items.

Underneath a pile of loose papers, you found your old graduation cap. You held it in your hands, your fingers drifting over the silky, light blue fabric. You let your hand drift downward, running through the red threads of the tassel that dangled from the top. You placed it to the side, finding little comfort in the item at all. Below that lay a tattered AP Biology textbook, the front cover frayed and littered with marks from the students who used it before (and remembered to return it). There was an old pencil case stuffed to the brim with writing utensils and erasers. When you pulled it open, you found a folded up note from a fellow friend that was much too faded to read.

The more you pulled out, the stronger the tugging in your heart felt. Photographs of you and your old friends, bent and torn, floated loosely around the box. You took the time to study every one of them, saddened at how estranged you’d become from them. You didn’t talk to anyone from your hometown, and although you thought cutting contact was for the best, it only seemed to hurt as you recalled the sleepovers and adventures you engaged in with people who didn’t know you any longer. It all hurt.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, boxes packed and the lingering scent of your mother’s favourite lavender candle hanging thick in the air. The chestnut boards of the dresser that once stored your entire wardrobe, the tile underneath your feet, impossibly cold despite the summer heat radiating through the panel windows by your bedside. Reruns of Dr. Phil on the television downstairs, the hum of a song stuck in your head despite no tune playing at all.

You’ve been here, in this exact position, hurting over something with the same fervor as you felt in the moment. It was so far away. Why couldn’t you remember?

For once, six years after leaving the town, you were aching to remember the memories and the love that was contained within the walls of the home, but you couldn’t. You pushed it so far away that the life you once led in Michigan no longer felt like your own. It was hazy, fuzzy around the corners every time you tried to recollect a scene. The voices were warbled, echoing somewhere deep behind your eyes and not quite loud enough to reach your ears.

Why did you try so hard to forget? Why did you force it away so desperately?

Then, the world stopped.

No person beside you, no curious cat nudging your hand. Dr. Phil had gone silent, and the air wasn’t even filled with the sweet notes of vanilla laced in unison with lavender. The creaks and groans of the old house ceased to exist, and the mattress below you disintegrated to nothing. You were stuck, frozen in time, floating amidst a cloud of smoke that wouldn’t clear. Your lungs burned for air, your heart threatening to explode under the weight of emotion. Your mind was repeating the same thing over and over again, incessantly reminding you, forcing you to remember everything you had hidden away in hopes of closure.

Instead of your voice, it was his, saying the same words that were written in silver sharpie on the lid of the tiny, black shoebox.

So let’s make it last.

“Oh, god.” You wheezed out the words, feeling like you were suffocating from the plethora of pain encasing your body. In an instant, six years spent dedicated to forgetting suddenly dissolved into one, terrifying storm of reminiscing.

The box.

The box.

That’s why you couldn’t throw it away.

“What is wrong, Y/N?” Mel asked, urgent as if she’d already asked a hundred times.

Little to your knowledge, she had, but you were too busy listening to the sweet sound of Jake Kiszka’s voice, stored so pristinely in the deepest depths of your mind.

“The shoebox.” You squeaked, raising a shaky finger to point her attention towards the poorly painted over Vans logo.

“So, what? What is it?”

What is it? It was everything.

It was a box full of love, sealed so long ago and hidden away for safekeeping when you couldn’t part from the physical reminders of the boy who forever had your heart. It was years worth of memories, years worth of emotion you hadn’t let yourself feel since you locked it away.

“That should be everything, my love.” Your mom crooned, placing the last movie ticket stub inside the box and sending a sorrowful look your way. Your tear stained cheeks were too much for her to bear, but she loved you enough to stand witness to the biggest heartbreak of your life. She loved you enough to put her own hurt aside, just to ease yours, to alleviate you from being the one to close the book on the chapter that hurt you the most. “What do you want to do with it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” You drew in a shaky breath, holding in a wail that was begging to escape you.

It had been 110 days since you had broken up with Jake, since you left him with sad eyes and a heart that bled only for you standing in your driveway, the ghost of his last ‘I love you’ still on his lips. It had been 110 days of the most gut wrenching, exhausting, and excruciating pain you had ever felt.

The snow stuck to the ground, the frost nipping at your nose when you stepped outside, and the Christmas tree standing tall in your living room told you that the season had passed and the world was still turning, but you felt stuck in that sticky summer day in August, tears on your cheeks and love on the tip of your tongue as you spent your last night with him. It was the first time you’d been home since then, the first time stepping foot in your bedroom after creating your most haunting memory within it.

You knew you needed to get over him, but you did not know how.

How do you move on from someone who loved you so completely and wholly? How do you stop lamenting about better days that have since passed and will never return? How do you keep going, knowing you would never hold his hand again, feel his touch, or appreciate the sweetness of his kiss? How could you move on when you did not hate him? When his memory still existed in your mind and he was still that perfect person?

The memory of him lived within the walls of your house still, his shampoo still lingering on your pillowcase and his love still in the air. The reminders of your relationship existed in every corner of your bedroom, on the walls, in picture frames, and in the threads of your sheets and blankets. Even now, with the pictures and love notes and dried flowers contained in a single box, you had no idea how to get him out of your head.

“Wait,” you sniffled, watching your mom begin to close the top of the box. You couldn’t stand to do it yourself. You tumbled down the stairs, a mess of tears on your face and a pain in your heart growing larger by the second, begging her to help you gut the last remaining proof of your relationship from the walls. “There’s one more thing.” You confessed, reaching down into your book bag. 

For 110 days, you kept it so close, carrying it with you wherever you went and playing it through the disc drive in your laptop every night to fall asleep. Now, you knew that you would never be able to move on, especially not if you continued to hold on to the memory so tightly.

With an unsteady hand and a heaving chest, you handed her the plastic CD case. Her eyes traveled over the faded writing on the disk itself, and her heart ached for you. Slowly, she placed it underneath the rest of the items, hiding it from sight to make it easier on you.

“I’m gonna keep this, and I’ll put it somewhere safe, lovebug.” She said, finally closing the top to the shoebox and sealing the memories inside forevermore. “Why don’t you go take a nice bath? I’ve got a bottle of wine downstairs with your name on it, but only this time.” She offered, reaching out and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out and do something, all three of us. That sound good?”

Of course she understood; five years ago, she sat in her bedroom, hurting just the same over a man who left her without a second thought. Who left all of you without a second thought. The only true healer was time, and right now, time was not your friend. You could lean on her, ask her for help, hold her hand, because she knew how you felt, and she’d felt that way many times before you even knew what it meant.

“That sounds good.” You breathed, closing your eyes and squeezing out the last of the tears brimming the lids.

“I’ll change your sheets for you, too.” She said, standing with the box clutched tightly in her hand. “It hurts right now, my love, but it won’t feel this way forever. I promise.”

It won’t feel this way forever.

Oh how wrong she was, even if the truth didn’t come in the way she meant it.

It did hurt forever, but it was not constant.

Four years it’s been since his name crossed your mind, four years of sleeping soundly and four years free of regret that plagued you so viciously. You were so tired of hurting that you forced yourself to forget; you erased every memory of him from your brain with the help of alcohol and meaningless hookups. You went home with a new guy every night, promising yourself that with new hands on you, you would forget the feeling of his. You buried yourself in school, studying so intently and for so long that your eyes crossed and you had a constant migraine. You deleted him and his family off every social platform, because despite going no contact that first ever week at university, you still stayed up at night, torturing yourself as you scrolled through Instagram and Facebook. You deleted every picture you ever took of him, knowing that if the temptation was there, you would submit to it. Worst of all, you vowed to never speak his name again, just so you could forget how good it felt rolling off your tongue.

You purged him from your life entirely, and it worked so well that he hadn’t been a passing thought in your mind in years. It was not because you hated him, not because you wanted to forget him. You did it out of necessity, knowing that every time you reminisced on the beautiful memories you made with him, it took a little more of your soul. For nearly two years, Jake Kiszka plagued every thought you ever had. You abstained from relationships and romance as a whole, because you knew nobody would ever be able to replace him. You needed to forget him, or else it would have killed you. You loved Jake so utterly and completely, even two years after you broke up, even after never speaking his name again, that it forced you to drown his memory. Every time you thought of him, you forced yourself to think of something else. Every time his face was pictured, perfect in your mind, you made yourself look at something else.

After so long, it became a habit, and now, it was a way of life.

But, even so, as you stared down at the silver writing, you knew deep in your heart that no matter how much forgetting you did, you never stopped loving.

“—earth to Y/N!” A hand waved in front of your face, breaking your staring contest with the Vans box decorated in silver sharpie. You could remember writing it, the sobs that shook your shoulders and the aching of your heart. The shakiness of the letters retold the story as clear as day.

After six years, you were still hopelessly in love with Jake, and one fear you always had remained true; nobody in the entire world could compare to him, and nobody else ever loved you in the same way he did.

Not that you let them, and not that they tried.

So let’s make it last.

How, after so long of refusing to think of the man, did he still have such a drastic effect on you? How were you still so caught up on someone you fell for when you were fifteen?

Out of all the questions, that one seemed the easiest to answer; you were still pining for him, because every version of you after fifteen loved him more than the last.

“Christ, you’re scaring me.” Mel tried again, her hand landing on your shoulder in a desperate attempt to pull your attention back to her. Your head finally snapped in her direction, your lungs searing from the lack of oxygen as you drew in a long overdue breath. “Are you okay?” She was panicked, her eyes wide and her expression coated with her fear. Never once had she seen you in such a state, and she was clueless as to why you were taken from her so quickly.

“I…” you trailed off, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. It felt like a million memories were washing over you at once, stuck in an endless stream of thoughts that you forced yourself to ignore for so long. “That box.” You finally huffed out, your eyes shining with the same heartbreak you felt all of those years ago. Time did not change the intensity in which you hurt over losing him, even if you convinced yourself that it did.

“What about that box?” She asked, trying to pry it out of you. It was a rough subject, not only because it was hurting you so badly, but because aside from your mother, you had never spoken a word about Jake to anyone.

She was your best friend, your partner in crime and everything good in the world, but this was a heartache she had not touched, yet. It was one you stored so deep down that not even you touched it anymore, and in order to answer the question, you would have to tell her everything.

“What isn’t in that box?” Your rhetoric was full of refrain, like the words fought a daunting battle to even pass through your mouth. Your heartbeat was so strong that you could feel it surging through your entire body, under your skin and behind your eyes, all the way to the very tips of your toes. Your face was burning, your throat dry and your eyes sad as you finally reached forward. Your fingers grazed over the surface, collecting a layer of dust as they traced the words. “My whole life is in this box, Mel. The very reason my heart beats.” You whispered, picking it up and placing it in your lap.

“I don’t like it when you get poetic.” She let out a nervous laugh, looking between your face and the item in your hands as she awaited further explanation.

“I don’t know if I can explain it without showing you.” You admitted, your finger gently running over the lip of the cardboard where the cover sat flush with the rest.

“If it’s so important, how did you forget about it? And more importantly, why have I never heard of it?” She asked, trying to make sense of it all. You couldn’t blame her for being so confused—in all of the time you’ve known her, this was the only thing you had ever kept from her.

“You know when something hurts so much that it feels impossible to survive? Like if you don’t stop thinking about it, it will be the only thing you ever think about?” You began, your eyes fluttering closed as a sad smile crossed your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” She replied, her tone softening as she realized the seriousness of the situation.

“This is one of those things. It was the most beautiful part of my whole life, but now that it’s gone, it’s horrible to remember. It took me two years to get over it, and even then, I never really did. I just got better at bottling it up and ignoring it, and eventually, it became a habit. This hurt so bad that I had to forget about it, because if I didn’t, I would have spent the rest of my life stuck in it, rather than making something new for myself.”

“Ooookayy.” She drew the word out for dramatic effect, her humorous tone usually uplifting you in times of crisis, but not even this time could it begin to ease the feeling of hurt in your heart.

With a breath of courage you did not have, you flipped open the lid. You did not look inside straight away, instead finding yourself staring at the empty section of wall between your door and your dresser, remembering the sight that was there so long ago. Jake, teary-eyed with flowers from his backyard and a CD he’d worked so hard to make, clad in a sweater that he wore only because you bought it for him. You wondered what he looked like now, if he’d recognize you if he stood before you again. You smiled gently to yourself as you recollected the softness of his features, the warmth in his dark eyes, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Where was he, now? Was he halfway across the world, living his dream and playing guitar on stage every night? He used to talk about it so often that you thought it would be a shame if he let that passion go to waste. Was Josh alongside him, still annoying him beyond belief and loving him in a way only a twin brother could? Was his hair long, flowing past his shoulders and cascading down his back, just like he told you he wanted it to? Was his smile the same, toothy and goofy enough to make you fall in love at the first glance?

There were so many things you wanted to know, gutted that Jake existed in the world somewhere and you were not a witness to the light he added to it. You were in agony knowing that there wasn’t just one, but so many versions of him you never got to know, just the same as he never got to experience the many different versions of you. You hated yourself for never reaching out, for locking up that part of your heart and throwing it away, but you had to. It was necessary for survival, and you didn’t want to lose yourself to a stranger who might not even be the boy you once loved so desperately.

Then again, a small part of you knew that no matter how strange Jake would be to you now, he would still be just as lovable and just as beautiful.

Your heart ached at the thought of him being grown, now, likely wrapped up in someone else’s arms who could love him more than you could at the time. Back then, you thought that letting him go was the best way to show how much you loved him, but six years later, you understood he was the type of person you never should have let slip through your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought of you, or if he went through the same turmoil that caused you to shut out his memory completely. You swallowed down the lump in your throat when you realized he likely didn’t, because Jake was always much too grand to be caught up on someone as mediocre as you.

Forcing yourself out of the maddening thoughts, your eyes trailed down to the items inside the box. Carefully, you picked out a pile of movie tickets, sifting through them and trying not to get stuck in every memory of every theater date the two of you had.

“In high school, I met a boy who turned my whole world upside down.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as you passed the tickets to Mel. “He was everything anyone could ever want. He was the type of person that made it impossible not to love him.” You explained, feeling the scratch of tears in your throat as you grabbed a ziplock bag full of dried wildflowers and petals from bouquets. “He was a real romantic, always buying flowers and writing love notes. He walked with me to school before he got his license, and drove me as soon as he did. He was my best friend, and unfortunately, probably the best love of my entire life.”

“What was his name, love?” Mel asked, taking the bag of flowers from your hand so you could continue the walk down memory lane.

“Jacob,” the name felt like gold on your tongue, the taste sweet and the warmth otherworldly. “I called him Jake.” You pulled out a torn journal page, folded neatly and begging to be read. Carefully, you opened it up, letting your eyes drift over the familiar scrawl of his messy handwriting. “We dated for three years. Liam S. had nothing on him, and I met Jake not long after the hot or not debacle.” You laughed quietly, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you realized how happy you were that Liam turned out to be an asshole. Because of his childish behavior, the best years of your life happened. “I’ve never been so thankful to have my heart broken by someone, because if I stayed with Liam, I never would have met Jake. I was skipping class one day because I couldn’t stand the thought of being near Liam after that god awful list, and I ran into Jake, skipping because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in History class. Was fate, I guess. We were inseparable after that.”

You took a moment, swallowing back the pain and blinking away tears as you pulled note after note from the box, each one more painful than the last. There were doodles, stick figures of the two of you holding hands, and hearts dancing around your heads. Jake always had a special way of expressing his love, and he did it in every way he could. It was always lighthearted, never too serious but always fully expressing the tellings of his heart. He wrote you love notes because he wasn’t good at saying it aloud, and he drew terrible pictures when words failed him. At the end of the day, he was a teenage boy, but he was so much better than the rest of them.

“We did everything together. So many days spent at the lake, and so many nights spent talking in this bed. We used to sneak out on the roof and look at the stars every night, because there’s a ledge on the attic window that makes it easy to get up there. He listened and never made me feel stupid, and he loved me so much that I never had to question it. He used to drive my sister to her basketball practices when mom was at work, and he’d sit with me the whole time, happy to do it. He was quiet, but everything he said was worth listening to. He was funny, and so kind. The biggest heart I’ve ever seen on anyone.” You felt yourself choke up, the surplus of emotion becoming too much for you to hold back.

“What happened?”

“Life did.” You responded, simple enough as you continued to sort through the box. There were tickets to school sports games, tokens from the local arcade, and all of the guitar picks that fell from his pocket into your bed. There were unopened ring pops, because he’d buy you one at the corner store every time you stopped, forever promising that it would be a real ring someday. Your entire relationship was in the box, staring you in the face with a ferocious grin as you recounted the mistakes you made. “Him and I were always different. He had a dream of being in a band. He hated school and everything that came along with it. He played soccer, he loved to have fun, and he smoked cigarettes. He wouldn’t listen no matter how many times I told him it was bad for him. I loved school, I was good at it, and I wanted to go to the best university I could get into. I didn’t drink all that much, and I stayed in more often than not. For three years, it never phased us, and we loved each other no matter how different we were. It still seemed right.”

“Until it wasn’t?”

“Not even then.” You chuckled, pulling out an old Polaroid picture.

As your eyes landed on the two of you, laying in the long grass in the field at the old park, you felt the knife twist in your stomach. He was smiling, the grin lighting up his whole face as he held you in his arms. You were between his legs, your back against his chest and your arms atop his, wrapped around you. You were in his clothes, your hair falling over your face that was nearly washed out from the flash of the camera. You could remember the feeling like he was behind you now, the rattle of his chest as he laughed and the warmth of his body against yours. The deep amber of his cologne lingered in your nose, and the sweetness of his kiss still remained on your lips.

In that moment, you thanked God that Josh was there to take the picture. Even now, even after all the hurt, the memory was so precious to you and you wished so badly to be there one more time, just for a minute.

“We talked about it for a long time, what would happen when I left for school. I knew I was going far away, and he knew he was going to stay here. Maybe if I went to school closer, the outcome would have been different.” You shrugged, acting nonchalantly about one of the thoughts that often plagued your entire life. “We decided long distance wasn’t right for us. I didn’t want to hold him down, and he didn’t want to hold me back. We loved each other so much that we let each other go, believing it was for the best. I can’t speak for him, but for me, it was far from the best. It was the worst, actually.” You explained, looking at a few other Polaroids in the box. “We broke up the night before I went to school. Or the morning of, I guess.” You corrected yourself, your fingers going in search of the only thing you truly wanted to see.

“And that was it? You never talked to him again.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Never again ‘cept for a few days after I got there.” Your fingertips found the hard plastic case, pulling it out from the very bottom of the box. Origami flowers went flying, the ones you made for him but never had the chance to give him, and a few guitar picks fluttered to the floor. “That night, he gave me this.” You flashed it in her direction. She reached out, taking it from your hands so she could read the words written on the disk. “I remember exactly what he said, and it fucking killed me, Mel.”

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

You recounted the memory aloud, the quiver of sadness in your tone too loud to ignore. “For three months, I listened to this every night to go to sleep. I carried the CD with me everywhere I went, until I came home for Christmas and mom and I decided it was best that I put all of this stuff away. I was torturing myself, loving someone I couldn’t have. That’s why when I met you, I never wanted to leave your side. I was recovering from this, and I had nobody.”

“So he’s the reason you listened to that Pearl Jam song on repeat all of the time?” She asked, thinking back on the state you constantly found yourself in.

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding as a tear rolled down your cheek. “Black. That was the song.”

“Right, how could I forget?” She chuckled, humming the tune to herself. “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s…” she sang to herself, trailing off as she realized why the words spoke so loudly to you.

“Sky.” You finished, unable to leave it hanging. “But why can’t it be mine, right?” You forced a smile on your face, trying to joke, but both of you knew it was not funny to you.

“Why did you never tell me about him?” She asked, looking at you with sadness in her own eyes. She was grieving the love with you, like a true best friend would.

“Lots of reasons, I suppose.” You sniffled back another wave of tears, your voice now infiltrated with the sadness that once only ravished your heart. It was taking over again, like it did so long ago when you vowed to shut it out. “Guess I didn’t want to scare you away, and I didn’t really want to bring that memory to school with me. The dorm and the apartment walls, all of the buildings…. That sadness never touched that, you know? He was never there, his memory didn’t live in the place like it does here. I thought if I never talked about it, it would never hurt as bad there as it did here, that night.”

“But it did anyway.”

“It did.” You agreed, clearing your throat slightly. “For a really long time. I spent two years thinking of him, dreaming of him. I wanted him so bad, and it never went away with time like all of the Reddit forums said it would.” You laughed at your own stupidity, shaking your head at all the time you spent reading breakup advice from faceless strangers on the internet. “One day, I had to stop. I was my own worst enemy, listening to all the music we used to listen to together, living in the memories at night when I was alone in bed, picturing him beside me, holding my hand. I deleted him off all my social media, and his family, too. I erased all the pictures, and I drank and partied so much that I couldn’t think about anything, let alone him. I studied so much that I dreamt about Shakespeare, and every time I thought of his name, I shoved it so far to the back of my mind that I couldn’t possibly find it again. I forced myself to forget it all, to pretend it never happened so one day, I could believe it.”

“I told myself new memories would replace the old ones, and after a while they did. Christ, when we came here he wasn’t even a passing thought in my head, but I could feel this lingering sadness in the air, looming over my head all of the time. I didn’t get it until now, when I saw the box, and it all came back at once. I shoved it so far down that I tricked my brain into blocking it out, but when it’s in your face like that… it’s hard to keep it out.” You finished, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “That’s why you lost me for a while, I guess.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with this guy? Like, at all? You don’t know what he looks like, where he lives…?”

“Nothing.” You assured her. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s ignoring a problem so much that it ceases to exist.”

“But it does exist, and it still hurts.” She explained. “You don’t date, you don’t try to meet guys, you hate the idea of love, and this is why, Y/N. If it’s been six years and you still feel that way, maybe you should reach out.” She offered, looking over the CD once again.

“As if,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea. “He wouldn’t even remember me, Mel. It’s been so long, I’m sure he’s long moved past us. He’s the type of guy everyone loves, so I’m sure he’s found someone who treats him really well. He deserves that, not the girl from high school who broke his and her own heart.”

“Maybe we should just look at his instagram, just to see what he looks like?” She asked, pulling out her phone.

“No.” You said, reaching out and holding her phone down. “I don’t want to, Mel. I stopped keeping up with him for a reason. All it does is hurt me more.”

“Okay.” She conceded, placing her phone back on the bed. “Since we’re already sad, why don’t we listen to the music? Why don’t you tell me about the songs?”

“Nosy.” You snipped, but shot a playful smile her way.

“Obviously.” She huffed. “My best friend just told me about a boyfriend I’ve never heard of before, who is apparently the greatest love of her life. I want to know everything that I didn’t know I was missing.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, eyeing the messy handwriting on the surface of the disk. “I’d just be reopening old wounds. I don’t know if that’s what I should be doing while I’m trying to start my life.”

“Seems like they’re already open, Y/N.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Just one song?” You watched her face for a moment, your heart racing at the thought of playing that first track. At the same time, an overwhelming sense of calm washed over you at the idea, like an addict finally in reach of a fix. It had been so long since you let yourself enjoy the music that spoke his love for you, and the thought of hearing it again made your heart soar. It had been so long since you felt such an abundance of love like that, and you understood that it couldn’t hurt more than it already was.

“Yeah, okay.” You sighed, carefully placing all the items back in the box. You sat it beside you on the bed, slowly standing to your feet. You grabbed the disk from her hand, navigating through the mess on the floor and plopping down in the computer chair nestled in the corner of your room. You hunched over; searching through the drawers of your desk until you exactly found what you were looking for. “A-ha.” You muttered to yourself, pulling out the old CD player and the speakers you had to go with it. The cords were tangled, wrapping around all of them and knitting together to make the task even more daunting for you. “I haven’t used this in years.” You said, your fingers carefully unraveling the tangled mess of the cords.

“Used it? Y/N, I haven’t even seen one since middle school.” You chuckled, plugging the player into the outlet on the wall beside you.

“I only ever used it to listen to this.” You clarified, wiping the dust from the surface with the bottom of your already dirty t-shirt. You popped the top open, carefully taking the disc from its holder and placing it inside. You shut it, trying to read the faded white print on the black surface to find the play button. Eventually, you hit start, and the air filled with a static silence, the whirring of the machine the only thing filling your ears.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes as you braced yourself for the impact of that first note. Your palms were clammy, your chest tight and your stomach swirling with nausea. Even as horrible as you felt, knowing what was to come, the feeling was comforting, familiar even. You felt it so many times, huddled in that exact chair with your knees pulled to your chest. You felt it in your dorm room, tears clouding your vision as you tried to hide yourself under the covers and disappear from the world. You knew this feeling better than anything else, and you had every scratch and pause on the track memorized so well that you could recite it in your sleep.

Even so, it didn’t seem to stop the wave of grief that washed over you when the first strum of the acoustic guitar filled the air.

You nearly doubled over in your seat, struck with an invisible force that was stronger than anything else. Your bones ached and your body felt heavy, your eyes aching as you squeezed them shut so tightly it made you see stars. The music that filled the room was quiet, but it felt like it was screaming at you, beating you down and berating you for being so foolish.

“Childhood living,

Is easy to do

The things you wanted

I bought them for you.”

Four years old, Barbie doll in hand and chocolate stains visible on your neon green shirt as you stood at the entryway of the kitchen. Your hair was wild, messy from a full day of playing outside. The summer air was sweeter than it had ever been, the color of the grass so prominent in your mind. Dandelion yellow stained your knees from kneeling on the abundant petals in the backyard. The clouds in the sky looked like cotton candy, and you pleaded with your mother to let you stay outside for just a moment longer.

Of course, she picked you up by the arms, scolding you with a smile as she told you that you wouldn’t be able to play if you were hungry. Dinner was waiting for you on the table, your favorite meal to top off the wondrous day of being completely carefree. For dessert, you split an ice cream sundae with your dad, doused in chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles. As your mom did the dishes, you watched a cartoon on the couch. When the sound of the water stopped and giggles filled the air, you couldn’t help but investigate, dreading missing out on a moment of fun.

When you peeked into the room, the kitchen table concealing you as you stood at perfect height, you did not see your mom hovering over the sink. Instead, you heard the static hum of the radio, the familiar song playing quietly. Your mother was in the middle of the room, dish towel still in her hand and a blinding smile on her face. Your father stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck. A smile that matched hers rested on his own lips as they swayed slowly, and he was singing her the lyrics as they passed through the speaker.

Although it was out of tune, off time, and nowhere near as good as Mick Jagger had sounded, it was perfect. To you and your mother, it was the best sound in the whole world, because when your dad sang it, it was full of love.

“Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can’t let you

Slide through my hands.”

Eight years old with your little sister by your side, the words passed through your fathers lips, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. He was tired, withdrawn, singing the song with refrain in his eyes as he watched the hand your mother was holding. The love has lessened, the tune a habit rather than a gift. Things were different, and you chalked it up to age. One day you were certain your father would sing it again, with the very same love in his eyes he used to have.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

The familiar song played through the closed door of your parents bedroom, but it was not framing a sweet moment. It had been on repeat for a day, now, and your father had left late the night before. Something deep in your soul told you he was not in there, nor was he singing it to her. Sometimes, when the music lulled, you could hear a muffled cry pass through the hollow door, cementing the notion in your head for good.

“I watched you suffer

A dull, aching pain

Now you’ve decided

To show me the same.”

At thirteen, you stood at the door of your parents bedroom, a lump in your throat as you watched your mother sleep away another afternoon. Your sister continued asking when your dad would be home, but the longer you stared at the half-empty room, the more you understood that the answer was something she couldn't quite understand. The longer you watched, the more you understood you’d never hear him sing that song again.

“No sweeping exits

Or offstage lines

Could make me feel bitter

Or treat you unkind.”

“Oh, God. Jake, please turn that off.” You pleaded, the melodic sound filling your stomach with dread. He looked back at you, nestled in his bed and safe under his blankets. He turned around in his desk chair, his head cocked to the side as he abandoned his math homework.

“What, you don’t like The Stones?” There was a careful kindness in his tone, wondering where your sudden discomfort came from but nervous to cross a line by asking.

“No, I do, just not this song.” You clarified, your heart racing in your chest as the hum of Jagger’s voice began to fill your ears. You tried so hard to stay calm, not to retaliate and cover your ears so you did not look like a child throwing a tantrum. Instantly, he reached over and lifted the needle from the spinning vinyl, placing it back on the holder. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t listen to it.” You breathed, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as the song came to an abrupt stop.

“S’okay, sunshine. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He promised, wheeling over to you as he noticed the discomfort in your eyes. He reached out, brushing your bangs from your eyes in an attempt to comfort you. “Why not?”

“Long story.” You whispered, your head sinking further down into his pillow.

“I always have time to listen to you.” He assured you, his thumb drifting over your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, the sight immediately calming your mind. You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch ever so slightly.

“My dad… he used to sing this to my mom. It was the best song in the whole world to us for so long.” You explained, fighting the distaste begging to leech into your tone. “They used to slow dance to it in the kitchen, and he’d sing it to us too, when we were sad. Then he fucking left, and mom listened to it over and over again, like it would bring him back. Guess it didn’t work out as well as she hoped it would.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I had no idea.” He hummed, his fingernails gently scratching over your scalp in hopes of soothing you.

“S’okay,” your eyes fluttered closed in bliss at the feeling. “Just sucks, ‘cause I used to love the song so much, and now it makes me sick.”

You didn’t understand back then, but now you knew why your mother played it so often. She was hoping it would bring him back, or hoping that it would make her feel close to him again. She was torturing herself in the same way that you tortured yourself with the exact CD you were listening to, then.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away.”

“I have something to show you, sunshine.” Jake's hand in yours felt right, just as it always did. His voice rang through your ears as you walked up the stairs to his bedroom. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but you knew if he had anything to do with it, it would be nothing short of fantastic.

“I know I dreamed you

A sin and a lie

I have my freedom

But I don’t have much time

Faith has been broken

Tears must be cried

Let’s do some living

After we die.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, running like waterfalls down your cheeks as Jake softly strummed at his dads old acoustic. The rasp in his voice paired with the quiver of nervousness made his singing all the more beautiful, and the sentiment behind his actions made your heart swell with joy. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on, and you couldn’t believe he loved you so dearly.

His playing slowed to a stop, his anxious eyes flickering up to your face. As he noticed the trails of mascara streaked down your cheeks, his stomach dropped, fearful that he hurt you more than helped. You wanted to speak, to commend him for his gracious gesture, but words were failing you. You had never been so full of love in your life, not for anyone or anything, but he continued to amaze you with every day that passed.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I never wanted to make you cry.” He stood, propping the guitar against his desk as he stepped towards you. His hands reached out, gently swiping away any lingering sadness on your face.

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, still choked up at the sweetness of the moment. “It was beautiful. So, so beautiful.” A small smile crossed his lips, and he crouched down to eye level, dreading overlooking a single moment of time with you. “Nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me.”

“I just… you said you loved the song, but you couldn’t listen to it anymore because it hurt too bad. I wanted to make the song good again, to make it hurt less.” He whispered, his brown eyes seemingly staring into your soul. “I don’t know if it worked, but I’d do anything for you, sunshine. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

“You do, Jake. You always do.” You felt tears falling from your eyes, but they were for a whole different reason than they were all of the times you heard the song before. He did exactly as he intended, and the song took on a whole different meaning. The bad hurt less, and the memory of Jake singing to you would be something you would never forget. He was everything, and you were so incredibly lucky to have him.

You reached toward, pausing the track before it could finish. Your chest was aching, your shoulders shaking with your tears as you felt Mel’s hands on your shoulders in support. She slid them downwards, and your hands raised in search of hers. Your head fell back, resting on her stomach as you tried to calm yourself down. It hurt the same every time; no matter how many years stood between the initial heartbreak, the thought of losing Jake had always been the worst one ever.

“Tell me about the song.” She whispered, pulling you out of your own head in hopes you’d share the sorrow with her, just to make it a little easier to digest.

With a shaky breath, you recounted the memories that you’d kept locked up for so long, finally allowing someone to help you carry the weight of them. She listened intently to every word you had to say, hanging on to the stories and keeping them as safe as you had the whole time. There was no one in the world you trusted quite like her, knowing that you could confess anything and she’d still extend a helping hand. You were lucky to have her, grateful to call her your best friend, but you knew that even she could not begin to ease the pain from this.

“I just… I wish things were different for us, you know? Like, I always knew we should have been more, that we shouldn’t have ended like that.” You let out a ragged sigh, finishing your retelling with the sentiment that haunted you for so long. “He tried to stay friends, and he tried so hard, but I had to stop. A few days after I got to school, I had to stop talking to him, because I loved him too much. Friends was torture back then, but now I feel stupid for cutting him off. Now I know that having him around would have been better than this.”

“Y/N, you have to reach out to him.” She urged, combing her fingers through your hair. “If it’s been this long and you still feel that way about him, you can’t let it go.” She tied your hair back in a ponytail, keeping it away from your face until you calmed down. Your cheeks were crimson, burning with heat as the sadness ran its course. Your eyes were swollen, your head aching, and you wished it could be that easy.

“After six years, Mel?” You didn’t mean to sound so condescending, but the tone slipped out without a second thought. “We’re totally different people now. I bet he doesn’t even think about me anymore.”

“You don’t know that, though.” She argued her point, squeezing your shoulders ever so slightly. “He could be sitting in his room, talking to his best friend like this. He might still be hurting, too, and maybe he’s scared to reach out because he thinks you forgot about him.” She let the thought hang in the air for a moment, not pressing any further until you responded. You blinked hard, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. The coolness of your skin felt nice against your face, bringing you back to earth for a moment. When the silence became too much for her, she spoke again. “You never know unless you try, Y/N. You can’t live the rest of your life wondering. Just reach out, say hi and ask how he’s doing. Even if he’s moved on, at least you’ll know for sure. Once that door is closed, you can move on too. Right now, you’ll be stuck thinking about him and wondering ‘what if’ forever.”

You didn’t want to tell her she was right, mostly because you were too afraid he would be moved on, in love with someone else and happier without you. You wanted it for him, because he deserved it, but you wanted to be the one that made him happy. The thought of someone else loving him made you sick, because you doubted that anyone could ever love him as much as you did. Actually, you doubted that anyone could love anyone as much as you loved Jake.

“I doubt he has the same number, anyway. I just have the one he had in high school.” You shook your head, finding yourself too hopeful already. You needed to shut it down before your heart broke even further.

“Try, Y/N.” Mel urged, unable to drop the topic. She wanted it for you, to see you happy and in love. She always wondered why romance never seemed to move you, and now she knew it’s always been because you were waiting for him. Instead of responding, you hit the rewind button on the player and pressed play again, already yearning to live in the memory of him singing it to you again. A sad smile crossed Mel’s lips, but she gave a curt nod, turning around and continuing to pack and move boxes of already sorted items.

You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop of them as you listened to the familiar melody. You wondered if maybe his number was the same, and if you reached out, he’d still have your contact saved in his phone. You wanted to know where he ended up, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. You wanted to know him, to hear his voice and have him say your name again. The need was pressing, and it grew harder to ignore the longer the song played.

Could he still feel the same? After this long, did he still think of you from time to time with hurt in his heart and regret in his mind? Was it possible that he was still hung up on you, or were you just an idiot who couldn’t comprehend letting go?

You had so many questions, the same ones that plagued you since the day you left. You didn’t know the answer, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to.

However, Mel was right.

You would never know unless you tried, and for him, you would do anything. As much as it would kill you to hear how happy he was without you, it would still be better than never talking to him at all. You needed to know the man he grew into, even if it was for a fleeting moment in time. You wanted to know if his hair grew out, if he still played guitar, and if his laugh was still just as sweet as it was back then. You wanted to tell him you graduated, that you finally did it after so long spent talking about it.

You couldn’t waste the rest of your life hung up on a man who loved you when you were young. You couldn’t be eighty years old and still thinking of Jake Kiszka when you tried to sleep at night. More than that, you couldn’t open yourself up to love if you were still so in love with him.

“I’m going to grab something to eat.” Mel said, hovering in the doorway of your room. When you didn’t so much as look her way, she turned towards the stairs and walked out of sight.

You needed to reach out. You needed to try, just like she said. Even if the conversation sealed shut the door you always wished to open again, it would give you closure, and you might finally be able to move on. Right now, moving on was laughable, and it was something you never believed you could do.

Mel was right, and so right that it was impossible to ignore her.

Even if his number changed, or if you were blocked, you would finally know for sure. You took a large gulp of breath as you stood to your feet, Wild Horses still playing softly in the background as you stepped towards your bed. You grabbed your phone from the mattress, unlocking the screen and clicking on your contacts. You gulped down the ball of anxiety stuck in your throat as you selected the name you never thought you’d speak again. There was still a red heart beside his name, something you couldn’t bear to change. You opened a new text thread, the empty screen sending a shiver down your spine as you recounted the endless ‘I love you’s’ once held inside the chat.

Your finger hovered over the keypad, your mind blank as you thought of what to say. There were so many things you always wanted to confess to him, that you were sorry and you missed him, or that you were wrong and never should have left. You wanted to be angry that he let you leave, and to be happy for all the love he gave you that carried you through until that very moment. You wanted to say everything and anything, but it wasn’t right. You couldn’t break the radio silence after so long with something so powerful, but you never knew how to keep it simple when it came to Jake. His name alone caught you in a storm of emotion, and the picture of his face in your mind nearly brought you to your knees.

You began to type, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. It wasn’t right. What were you supposed to start with? How could you rekindle conversation with the only man you’d ever loved, after so long of loving him silently?

You started again, letting out a sigh as the words seemed to come out wrong yet again. You felt like an idiot, but you still stood in place, staring at the screen. Somehow, no matter how stupid you felt, putting the phone down felt wrong. You needed to do it, but you just didn’t know how.

You typed and re-typed the message so many times that your eyes crossed and your head began to spin. Your heart was thudding against your chest so intensely that it began to hurt, and you hadn’t even hit send yet.

“Come on, coward. You can do it.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as you hyped yourself up. “Stop overthinking it.”

And you did; when you stopped thinking, it seemed all the more easy.

You - 4:53pm

Hey, Jake. It’s Y/N. I know it’s been a while, and I’m not sure if this is even your number anymore, but I’m back in Michigan again, for good I think. When I’m in Michigan it always reminds me of you. I hope you’re doing okay, and I hope that this isn’t too weird. It’s strange being home, and I guess I was just thinking of you and wanted you to know that after all this time, you’re still on my mind.

With little hope and a lot of courage, you attached a song from Spotify to the text. You hit send, watching the blue line at the top of the screen slowly begin to slide across, signifying it was much too late to change your mind. It was slower than usual, making you believe he truly may have changed his number, or blocked you at the very least. If he did, you couldn’t blame him, because you’d been tempted to do the same.

Before you could spiral too far, the small chirp let you know that the text was delivered, and the words underneath the bubble read as such. Your heart drummed even faster, and you expected a wave of regret to take over, but it never came. Instead, your mind was calm, a strange peacefulness washing over you at the sight of his name in your phone again. Soon after, the song delivered too, the link turning into a shortcut. The album cover showed in a small square, and next to it showed the name of the song and the artist underneath. On the very opposite side, a small little play circle appeared, letting him preview a snippet before he opened the app.

“Wild horses

Couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday

Wild horses

couldn’t drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We’ll ride them someday.”

You listened to the song playing over your speakers, your cheeks flushed and your lips upturned into a small smile. You wondered if it was too much, or if he would think you were weird for sending him the song, but deep down you believed that even if he did, some semblance of the man you used to love so dearly continued to remain. Even after all this time, the song would still be important to him, and just the same as back then, even after all this time, not even wild horses could drag you away from him.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf

[luffyvace]

HIHIHIHI TYSM FOR DOING MY REQUEST ^U^ I hope u Don't mind me dropping another one u :'))

Can I have kusuo reaction to Reader-chan being mostly know for her gore/angst/horror series but looks like nothing for a person to write this stuff (she looks absolutely innocent) yet having a (technically an old man) friend who is also anonymous writer for one of kusuo favorite series yet the said look absolutely opposite of it (the reader-chan and her friend are like Junji Ito and hayao miyazaki)

I'm sorry if u couldn't understand the request:')) my English isn't really the best-

HII DARLING! No problem at all! Of course I don’t mind! Request at any time as long as they say open <3

ohhh so she’s a horror writer :> OHHH I was confused at first but as soon as I searched them up and saw the memes I understood 😂💓

This is such a cute and funny topic! Enjoy your hcs anon 💖 ⚠️ Gore mentions⚠️

Kusuo isn’t easily scared.

there are very few things that actually do scare him, considering he can sense everything coming from a mile away

But shows and books are an exception (given he doesn’t stare at the pages to see through the book-)

he’s not normally into horror but your manga is actually very interesting to him!

seeing a bunch of mutilated corpses packed together is quite a gripping sight for him!

and honestly he is obbsessed likes normalcy but your case is a type of unique he doesn’t mind :)

it’s funny since you have this friendly and kind personality and your work is the exact opposite of that 🤗

it’s giving the cute core girlies!! (and guys!! <3) 💓💗💖🌸🌷💞🎀

he still gets the perk of reading the chapter before publish and giving small ideas for stuff

You once put his favorite character from another series in one of the manga panels and he when he noticed it he had a little smile on his face! 💗

he wasn’t excpecting you to do that at all and it was a pleasant surprise ;3

your introduced him to your friend and he also likes his work now!

Y’all are literal polar opposites- and ngl? He enjoys the balance!

like when he wants some exhilarating and goosebump-giving action he’ll pick up one of your mangas’

and when he’s feeling mellow while eating some coffee jelly on his bed his new (second) favorite author to read from is your friend!

His number one author is of course you ♥︎

would recommend his friends (specifically Kaido) one of your mangas to freak them out

they definitely won’t be expecting it seeing as though your such a cheerful person! 🌸🎀🌷

I feel like Torisuka would genuinely enjoy your manga as well!

he doesn’t get scared easily by creepy stuff for obvious reasons 😋

so you’ve got yourself another supporter !!

I have a feeling my girl boss Airua would get creeped out but 1) she wants to support you so she would probably buy and either never read or 2) read it anyway because it’s so interesting

like you captivated people with your work!

just as much as your friend does with more gentler topics

but in a different sense

You make your audience quite literally cover their eyes in fear yet still peak through they’re fingers with anticipation !

like that’s how good it is!

a “I can’t look away” type of thriller!

also you know that really talkative guy with the bob?

yeah he over analyzes your manga once he finds out about it

(which let me tell you- Kusuo tried his hardest to keep him away from it—but much to his luck- he got a hold of it anyway)

thankfully he likes it!

he’s scared- but once again- he just can’t look away :)

he comes to you and gives your extremely detailed compliments and (positive) feedback after each chapter is released and says he can’t wait for more

he also tells his expectations and predictions for the next one and hopes you’ll live up to them

so when your exceed them he’s more than thrilled (GET IT?? Ok..)

he’s practically able to predict every book or manga he reads because he analyzes everything

so when your able to surprise him he’s impressed!

after Kusuo he’s the first one to buy a copy

(cuz yk Kusuo gets those special you-get-the-first-copy-before-it’s-published-because-your-my-boyfriend-privileges)

LOL

the bob guy is low key jealous of him for getting it before it’s even PUBLISHED

tries to bargain you to get that too but it’s strictly reserved for Kuu ♡

okay I looked up bob guy’s name

it’s Akechi Touma (oops)

LOL “bob guy”

enjoy!! Pretty short but I think they’re a delight~

[steddieas-shegoes]

hiiii could i possibly request something with the good ol' "steve is insecure with his place in the group/his intelligence/his worth compared to the rest of the party" cliche with reassurances in the form of copious amounts of cuddles and kisses and pet names from eddie? you're so great for doing these and i'm eagerly waiting for the next chapter of call me sunshine <3

Not Steve "self-doubt" Harrington convincing himself he can't be loved because he doesn't fit in or provide "useful" things to the group!!! I am lowkey hoping someone maybe adds to make this explicit because something about them having to be quiet in a tent just sounds like it has potential idk. Eddie is so in love in this it makes me SICK. - Mickala ❤️ (@scoops-stevie)

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

When Steve suggested that they do something fun together for the weekend, he meant maybe going into the city or renting a lake house maybe.

He definitely didn’t mean camping.

Outdoor camping was Dustin’s idea, and all the kids had agreed quickly. Robin bowed out the moment she could come up with a decent excuse and he could tell that Eddie wanted to do the same but wouldn’t abandon him.

Hopefully.

Eddie had quietly offered to steal another RV, but Steve turned it down.

“You just started getting back in the good graces of most of the town, let’s not give them a reason to hate you again.”

So they packed up the van with all the camping supplies they collectively had: three tents (one for the girls, one for the boys, one for Steve and Eddie), a couple coolers full of drinks and food, a few chairs, flashlights, sleeping bags, and clothes.

Steve wasn’t great at reading maps, so he let Dustin ride passenger to help Eddie find where they were going.

He sat with the girls, mostly because he liked the way they just ignored everyone and everything and talked amongst each other about mundane things.

He may not always understand what they’re talking about, but he liked being a part of it.

He almost never understood what they were talking about actually.

But it was better than having everything the boys were talking about go right over his head.

Especially when they started arguing about stuff and talked so fast that Steve had no chance of keeping up.

Steve just kind of watched as everyone around him had conversations.

He tried not to think about how everyone was existing without him in a way.

He was here, but he wasn’t needed.

—-----------------------

When they arrived at the campsite, it was even more secluded than they thought it would be.

It was also only a couple hours until sunset and they all had to make sure the tents were set up properly before it was too dark to see.

Steve got started with his tent while Eddie helped the girls. Max still had limited movement in her wrists so she was given the task of setting the chairs around the fire pit that Lucas and Mike had formed.

Steve was struggling.

He’d only put up one tent before, and it was at summer camp where the counselor and four other boys had been helping. In all honesty, he’d pretty much managed to watch the whole time instead of help.

He would manage to get part of it up, but it would fall apart when he tried to do the other side. He kept losing the pieces to keep it tied down to the ground.

He was losing against an inanimate object.

Everyone else was doing fine; Joking and laughing and finishing up their tasks like they didn’t have to put all their focus into one thing at a time.

El wordlessly started helping him, and he knew she wasn’t judging him, but he couldn’t help the small part of his brain that was telling him that she thought he was stupid.

He was quiet for the rest of the evening.

They cooked hot dogs over the fire that Will started, then made s’mores since El had never had them before.

He watched and listened, smiled when everyone else was.

But he felt overcome with sadness that he just didn’t belong here.

He was the babysitter, he took care of them, and drove them around, and helped them survive alternate dimension monsters.

He didn’t know how to talk to them about the stuff they liked, or play their stupid dragon game. He could barely keep up with half the things they said.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna turn in for the night,” he said suddenly, interrupting something Mike had been saying to everyone.

Everyone looked at him with sad looks, but Eddie looked concerned.

“You okay? Is it a headache?” He asked.

Damn, he hadn’t even thought of a good excuse. At least Eddie was providing him one for free.

“Yeah, just a little one. I think if I sleep now it’ll be fine by morning.”

The taste of the lie in his mouth made his lip curl slightly. The words “friends don’t lie” replayed in his brain as he stood up and made his way to his tent at the far end of their setup.

No one tried to stop him, but he could feel their eyes on him as he unzipped his tent and then zipped it back up behind him.

They’d set up lamps inside each tent so that they could reserve flashlights for bathroom trips or emergencies. His was the kind you can dim, so he did. He took off his shoes and jeans, changing into the t-shirt he brought from home that was probably Eddie’s now that he was looking closer at it.

He’d brought his pillow from home because he couldn’t possibly sleep flat on the ground, and Eddie had brought one of his own because he still had some back pains when he slept wrong.

He curled up in his sleeping bag, holding Eddie’s pillow against his chest.

He felt a tear start to run down his face without his permission, not even sure why he was crying right now.

He heard the zipper and tried to shut his eyes quickly, hide his face in the pillow in hopes that Eddie would think he was really asleep.

“Hey darlin’. Mind if I join?” Eddie whispered.

Steve couldn’t ignore him, so he nodded and started to move the pillow from his chest and face.

“Oh, sweetheart. Why are you crying?”

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to explain.

“Can I hold you?”

Steve let out a sob, and Eddie didn’t wait for him to answer.

He was laying down next to Steve, pulling him against his chest and running his hands up and down his back.

“Is it a migraine? Do you need me to get some ice from the cooler? Or medicine from the van?”

“No, not a migraine.”

“Okay. Is it just a bad night?”

Steve couldn’t help the fondness he felt at that.

Eddie was so understanding, and incredible, and perfect. Steve didn’t deserve him just like he didn’t deserve the rest of these people.

“Stevie, it’s okay to have a bad night. Sometimes they just happen, right? That’s what you always tell me.”

Eddie’s hand had found its way to Steve’s hair, slowly running through the strands, occasionally looping the ends around a finger.

It sent chills down Steve’s spine when his fingers brushed against his neck so gently.

“I just don’t belong here.”

“I’ll admit the outdoors is not really my favorite place either, but-”

“No, not. Not the outdoors. Here. With everyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Eddie’s hand had frozen in his hair and on his back.

“I’m not smart. I’m not good at putting things together or fixing things. I can’t even be in most of their conversations. They keep me around because they don’t know how to get rid of me. I mean, they don’t even need a babysitter anymore!”

Steve’s tears were dripping onto Eddie’s shirt, making a mess.

Another reason he shouldn’t be around.

Eddie tilted his face up, nothing but love in his eyes.

“I want you to listen to me. You are needed in this group. You are wanted in this group. You are loved in this group. Do you really think a bunch of teenagers would be wasting a weekend camping with you when they could be going to the movies or the arcade or getting into trouble?”

Steve didn’t answer, but he sniffled as he watched Eddie get more passionate.

“And it is absolute bullshit that you’re not smart. How many times have you been the one to figure out something, whether it was during Upside Down shit or not? How many times have you been the one with common sense? You’re more than a babysitter, my love. You’ve always been more than that to all of them.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, Steve soaking in Eddie’s words as Eddie continued to comfort him in the way he needed.

“I just feel like I need to be more useful. I don’t want them to get bored or annoyed because I can’t be part of their world,” he finally said, his voice shaking.

“Angel, they love you for who you are. Just like I love you for who you are. You fit where you fit because that’s what the group needs. They don’t need another Dustin to always make connections because of one obscure fact relating to something he read once when he was nine. They don’t need another El to fight their battles.They need the Steve who is going to go along with whatever they want to do so he can protect them if and when things go wrong. They need the Steve who is always there to support them even with the most mundane things.”

“I couldn’t even set up the tent by myself.”

“None of us could. I had help. That’s why I told El to help you. None of us can do stuff alone, love. You’re putting expectations on yourself that no one else is putting on you.”

Steve shuddered.

He’d been pretty famous for doing that for years.

Once his parents stopped caring at all, he started caring too much.

And now he expected more of himself than anyone else ever would.

He’d set himself up to fail. At least in his own eyes.

“Did that finally get into that concussed brain of yours?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his tone.

Steve playfully slapped his chest and hid his face against his tear-soaked shirt.

“I guess maybe it did. A little,” he said.

“Good. You know I love you more than the stars, right?”

“And the moon?”

“And the galaxies in space.”

Steve settled further against Eddie’s side.

“I love you, too,” he sighed out, feeling content for probably the first time this entire trip.

In the morning, he’d start over, let his brain rest. He’d make everyone breakfast and then help them all make sure they were prepared for their short hike. He’d pack them sandwiches and extra water bottles in case they ended up walking further than they planned. And when they all got back to the campsite the next night, he’d make s’mores with them.

He’d ignore the voice telling him that he wasn’t enough for any of them, and he’d be enough for himself.

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day. 

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York. 

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work. 

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands. 

You should’ve expected it. 

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had. 

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them. 

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning. 

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls. 

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do. 

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse. 

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that. 

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time. 

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles. 

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara. 

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie. 

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”. 

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.” 

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place. 

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot! 

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy. 

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way. 

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring. 

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action. 

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background. 

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.” 

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment. 

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor. 

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion. 

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again. 

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.” 

“I have to.” 

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

[whimsical-musingss]

Chapter 1: Rhaella

Amongst Gods and Men

Warnings: GOT universe, childbirth, language, religious themes, Viserys is a creep who shouldn’t have married Alicent (SHE WAS 15) (GET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER) (yes I’m team Black but I’m also lowkey team Alicent she was a VICTIM).

Queen Alicent Hightower did not make her fears of childbirth known to anyone except the Gods. Every morning until her condition prevented her, she would visit the Great Sept of Baelor. She preferred the quiet atmosphere of the Sept, as it calmed her. She would kneel before the candles, lighting one for her mother, and then clasp her hands together in prayer.

Please grant me a son. Please let the labors be easy.

Please, let Rhaenyra and I be close again.

Only one of those prayers came true for Alicent.

She labored in her chambers for one day, in summer, mostly alone except for a handful of her handmaidens. Dressed only in a shift, she would pace the room, clutching her belly, as if to reach inside and quell the pain herself. It was the greatest pain she’d ever known, but once the babe was in position, Alicent barely had to push.

Outside, a storm raged on; rain pelting the stained glass windows. If Alicent could, she would have given birth completely alone and without her handmaidens. However, as the babe was delivered easily and without much fuss, the small crowd of handmaidens grew to accommodate some maesters and her father, Otto Hightower. The Hand of King Viserys, who was Alicent’s husband. He was not present, and for some peculiar reason, Alicent was relieved.

Otto Hightower glanced at the fussing babe who was being cleaned by the handmaidens, then back at his exhausted daughter. Alicent was shivering, despite being hot to the touch. She wanted to run out of her chambers, out of the Red Keep, out of Kings Landing, never to be seen again.

“You will have to try again for a son,” was all that Otto said, his voice soft so only she could hear. Alicent said nothing, but her sweaty face paled as she watched her daughter being swaddled. Otto turned and left the room, undoubtedly bringing the troubled news to King Viserys. Alicent did not know if Viserys would be displeased with her, she hoped not. One of her handmaidens presented her daughter to Alicent, who was still trembling on top of bloodied sheets, her weak hands in her lap. She did not raise them to hold her daughter, who she did not name. She left that decision with Viserys.

“Rhaella!”

Alicent glided into Rhaella Targaryen’s bedchambers, her deep green skirts swirling around her as she walked. Rhaella could hear her mother’s footsteps closing in, but did not bother to rise from her bed and nest of blankets. She refused to leave her bed when her handmaidens tried to get her up for her lessons, because Rhaella already dressed for something else.

“Rhaella, you must get up this instant,” Alicent’s voice was firm, yet tired. As always. Her hands grabbed Rhaella’s blankets and tugged, but Rhaella tugged back. “You are ten and four, you are a lady now. You must act like one.” Alicent’s voice was strained as she fought with her eldest daughter.

“No,” was all that came from the pile of blankets, but Alicent persisted. She threw the blankets from the bed, finally revealing Rhaella. Her silvery blonde hair was sticking up in random places, and instead of wearing her nightdress, Rhaella wore her brother’s tunic and leather pants with boots. The clothing Rhaella terribly; the tunic was too big and the pant legs were too much to stuff into the leather boots. Alicent froze, unsure of how to go about this.

“My darling, what is this?” Alicent finally asked, gesturing to Rhaella’s state, who only turned away, a frown evident on her face.

“I do not wish to attend lessons with the Septa, mother,” Rhaella grumbled. She crossed her arms for good measure.

“That is not your choice, I’m afraid,” Alicent sighed, approaching her daughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly in front of her, avoiding her daughter’s glare.

“Why not? Aegon and Aemond get to fight. I want to fight, too, mother,” Rhaella maintained her icy look in her mother’s direction, who just stared at the floor.

“That is the way the world works,” Alicent managed to say after a moment. “Our fight lies elsewhere than the training yard. Our war is here, in this bed, delivering children.”

Rhaella was shaking her head as her mother spoke. “I refuse it. I want to claim a dragon, ride on its back, and fight like a Dragonlord. Like Visenya.”

Alicent often wondered how her eldest child became this way. When Rhaella was young, she did have her moments of outbursts and acted unladylike, no matter what the Septa or Alicent did. Helaena did not act this way, so perhaps Rhaella’s defiance and abruptness came from her father and the dragons. It was a question that plagued Alicent’s mind often, especially during moments like these.

“Sweetling, you are not Visenya,” Alicent finally looked her daughter in the eye. “You will claim a dragon, I have no doubt.” Rhaella’s dragon egg that was placed in her cradle turned to stone, same with Aemond’s. Thankfully, her eldest son, Aegon, did have his own dragon within his cradle. Rhaella and Aemond both complained about their lack of a dragon; Rhaella expressed to her mother constantly that she will be weak in this world without one.

“There are no dragons to claim here,” Rhaella’s resolve began to crumble. “Mother, I want to be like my brothers.”

Alicent’s heart was heavy as she watched Rhaella cover her face with her hand, her shoulders trembling. “I just want to be strong.”

“My king, your firstborn daughter is too rebellious for her studies,” Alicent is out of options, scrambling for one last attempt to make her daughter turn to more ladylike hobbies. She grits her palms into fists as she paces around the King’s chambers. “Just this morning, I have found Rhaella dressed in her brother’s training attire.”

King Viserys looked up from his makeshift Valyrian structure and lets out a small laugh. “Rhaella is young, and she is acting like Rhaenyra when she was that age as well. My sweet wife, she will outgrow this…”

As he talks, Alicent frowns at the mention of Rhaenyra’s name. Just the other day, Rhaenyra mentioned the prospect of marrying her eldest son, Jacaerys Velaryon, to Rhaella. Alicent quickly admonished the proposal, but Viserys seemed to beam at it. Uniting House Targaryen, he called it. But Alicent knew Jacaerys, his true parentage. She saw it, the court saw it, but Viserys remained blind. Alicent would not taint her daughter’s blood with the blood of a bastard. She resists the urge to bite her nails.

“Viserys, I worry,” Alicent’s voice cracks, stopping in her tracks. Her brown eyes study Viserys as it sinks in for him. “Rhaella is not just rebellious, Viserys. She’s rebellious because she is scared.” Alicent’s hand grasp her throat, as if to keep her shaky breaths in.

“Scared of what, my dear?”

“She has no dragon! With a dragon, she could, perhaps, turn to dragon riding to quell her unladylike passions!” Alicent’s voice rose. Viserys set down his tools, brows furrowing.

“Might I suggest she do an amount of studies with me?” Viserys asks, searching Alicent’s eyes. “You already know of my knowledge of our Valyrian history and what is expected of a Valyrian woman. I could turn her towards the right path for a lady of her station.”

Alicent’s hand falls from her throat and she tilts her head up towards the ceiling, as if to ask the Gods to give her an answer.

“I do not see another choice, my king.” She relents, now staring at her husband, regret immediately setting into her bones.

“Very well. Send her to my chambers,” Viserys picks up his tools again; Alicent leaves without a word, biting her tongue and clenching her hands into fists.

“You asked to see me, father?”

Rhaella stands in the doorway to her father’s chambers. She could count the number of conversations she has had with her father, just the two of them, on one hand. Her mother had forced her to change out of her brother’s training attire and into a dark green dress. Her mother had also ordered a handmaiden to brush the nest that is Rhaella’s hair. The handmaiden did succeed, and also managed to add delicate twists in Rhaella’s long hair.

“Yes, my dear girl. Come,” Viserys beckons from his chair, and Rhaella steps towards him, her large book on learning High Valyrian in her arms.

“Father, why am I here?” Rhaella almost frowns, and Viserys suddenly sees a glimpse of a younger Rhaenyra in his daughter. Both fiery as the Seven Hells, both stubborn, both unafraid. Viserys feels a shred of melancholy before shoving it away.

“Your mother has asked me to assist you in your studies. As it seems you do not wish to partake in them,” Viserys motions Rhaella to sit next to him, and she does.

“I do not wish to study, I wish to fly on dragon back and eat lemon cakes,” Rhaella declares, letting her book fall on the table with a thud. “I already told mother the same.”

“My dear girl, your dragon egg turned to stone in your crib,” Viserys laments. “It is a tragedy to befall a Targaryen, but alas, it does happen.”

“It happened to Aemond,” Rhaella agrees, “but I want to try and claim one. After I do so, I will then travel Westeros and perhaps cross the Narrow Sea.”

“Where would you like to go to in Westeros?” Viserys asked.

Rhaella paused in concentration. “Perhaps the North. I read about the Wall, and the mysteries that lay beyond it.”

“Well,” Viserys chuckled. “Do you know anything else about the North? It’s people, their customs, and that dragons cannot cross the Wall?”

“I knew about dragons and their refusal to cross the Wall, but the people…” Rhaella trailed off. “No, father.”

“One of the most important things a highborn lady must do,” Viserys leaned back in his chair so he could study his daughter. “Is to learn about the world around them. Learn the houses, the people, their strengths, and customs so that knowledge can be passed down.” Viserys motions towards his miniature model of Old Valyria.

“Not all the knowledge we have gained from our ancestral homeland is from men, you know,” Viserys says, quietly. “Without women, there would be no men. Without women, we would not be here, as that would mean no Daenys Targaryen. Our line would be lost amongst the sea and fire.

If you want to be a dragon rider, Rhaella, you must learn the language of our ancestors. Learn the ways of Westeros and its people. You must show me that you are ready to claim a dragon.

Then, perhaps you may go to Dragonstone yourself and attempt what Targaryens are destined to do.”

A/N: thank you for reading the first chapter! I’m excited to keep on writing this and I hope you are excited to continue reading. If you would like to be added to a taglist I can set one up.

A like and a reblog would be most appreciated! Thank you for your support.

[openphrase123]

i just finished this fic! it's good!

and because it's all done i want to like... be a LITTLE self indulgent and talk under the cut about some miscellaneous things that i ran into while writing it. don't click the readmore if you're interested in the fic and haven't read it yet i'm about to spoil the Whole thing.

also there is an epilogue to this fic now - go read that before this post if you're getting to this before the update!!

so!! i haven't written fanfiction in like FIVE YEARS. it's been a while! part of that is because i was doing original stuff and part of it was i was in a creative slump. so isat kind of dug me out of that and i owe it my thanks. i've been able to do a crazy amount of original work since starting this fic, it's brought back my creative discipline. in like seven years when my video game comes out you can thank isat for that probably

i originally set out thinking this was the only fic for isat i was going to write. and then as i was writing this i fell deeper into it. i kind of got out of isat a little disappointed in how it ended?? but now that i'm here i'm like ah it's fine. just cause i would have done something different in dev's position doesn't mean it's bad. it does mean i can write a bunch of fanfiction exploring things i wish had been tackled more in the game though LOL

i said this in one of the chapter authors notes but i DID start out curtain call hating loop with every fiber of my being. (as in i liked them as a character UNTIL the act 6 reveal which i thought was lame) and then i played through the game a second time knowing the loop twist and went "oh nvm this makes sense" so a lot of the loop stuff in this fic was actually written twice. originally i was just gonna have them soulmerge with siffrin and not be present at all but then i was like. no. i do want to keep this lighthearted and that's too depressing of an end for loop. i do have a loop postcanon doc so i'll go repay them for their slapdashed involvement in curtain call someday

i'm in a weird position with curtain call in that i wrote the themes and major conflicts Directly After playing through isat the first time. before i could really marinate and analyze the characters fully. so there are a lot of scenes and points where i think i wouldn't characterize certain people like that if i were to rewrite this from scratch? however i don't disagree with what i've written either - it's just an interpretation that i don't necessarily think is my favorite anymore.

neither is any of the worldbuilding i did for any of this - it works for curtain call and i think it was nice but i don't necessarily think it's my current interpretation of what the culture and people were like? i like the wishes being permanent thing, i like the language stuff, but i'd probably go in a different direction if i went through this again

i do actually still think "the forgotten island was destroyed by a volcano" is my solid headcanon explanation of what happened to it. in my heart. i think like - with siffrin as a character especially it's very important that he's always missing something, that it's not idyllically happy for them at the end of everything. so even if he can remember more from their own past, it's - you know - there's no way to go back. only forward.

in the vein of this i probably could have killed siffrin/loop's entire childhood family but i did not. mostly because i did think it was fun for him to have to explain all of those cultural taboos they broke to survive. which, of course, was not a big deal - any good parent would rather their kid be alive than lawful - but what is isat other than a vehicle to make siffrin work through every moral compulsion and spiral they experience

i had a thought halfway through writing the fic that i was stepping on the very good and beautiful odile friendquest by making the island real and having a lot of siffrin's personality dictate how it went. but i ultimately decided on keeping siffrin very close to their country, more than odile is to vaugarde, because siffrin actually DID live on the island when he was a kid and that i think is a Different type of "longing for your country" trauma than odile's. i think they can still drink over the feelings together though

writing bonnie is very fun but very emotional for me. the bonnie&siffrin age gap (preteen to late-20s) is the exact age gap between me and my niece so every time i need to sit down and write something for them i think about her and how much she's a little baby growing up. this has nothing to do with bonnie it just makes writing bonnie really hard for me

if the entire history of my ao3 account was not an indicator, i'm a very big fan of writing romance, but i did not want it to take over curtain call at all. i also could have left out sloopis entirely and almost did, but thought "you know. with the way loop functions in this fic. i should at least let that be open ended" cause sharing a body with a version of you who is dating some other guy is gonna get messy no matter what. it's just not necessarily something i had time to or the urge to explore here. think of it as a fun spiritual nod to the fact that isafrin is technically open ended in isat (<- cop out answer)

i think i'm pretty vocal in how much i am absolutely insane for the flashback "happiest i can remember being" conversation. who let them do that. i think a lot of how i worked with mirabelle and siffrin's relationship in this fic kind of revolved around that. important to me that it ends with mira checking in on him and getting the answer she was looking for all along <3

overall i'm happy with curtain call. glad i am done with it though. there's so much that's running in with it at once. i'll probably wait a month and reread the whole thing to myself front to back before i start having fond memories of this. i mean it's always gonna be the fic my nephew was born during and i'll always remember having a panic attack in the airport right after posting chapter 7 but it's gonna be weird letting this one sail off into the ocean of the internet. however feel free to ask anything about the fic, i wrote this in a lil hurry on a bad day and probably didn't cover everything

goodbye, curtain call!! i love you!!!!! i'll miss you!!!!

[looks both ways, waiting for most people to leave]

also. if you've read this far. i hope it's not too gauche of me to link my personal project. if you've read over 100k words of this you might enjoy the game i'm developing? i've been working on it for almost a year but i just started the devlog last month. it's still in early baby stages as far as a full video game goes but if you liked this you'll like the game when it comes out (similar nickname culture, timeloop trauma, petty interpersonal drama, very stupid jokes, natural disaster angst)

also there isn't a lot on the devblog yet, i've mostly been doing programming on it, i JUST started visdev i'm sorry if it's uglyyyyy (FOR NOW)

anyway i'm trusting you with that link. i'm going to use my professional name on that project when it airs don't cross the wires pretty please just pretend that's a butch-y cis woman's game <3 guard the closet door babeyyyyy

[angy-grrr]

more than repressing feelings, I think Izuku tends to not think about himself in general -about how others could actually be interested in him romantically for example- and usually keeps many things to himself, sometimes out of necessity. Its like he is completely clueless, truly unaware, and knows to put his feelings to the side in order to be good at heroics, but doesn't suffer from this decision as he lets himself feel those emotions.

To compare, Ochako did suffer from her feelings because they were dictating her career and decisions, who she was, and prefers to pretend she directly doesnt feel them at all; Izuku suffers from them when something really hurtful happens and becomes way too much to handle. Maybe Ochako's feelings arent that big, but they grow out of her repression; Izuku feels his feelings freely, but they are so big already he has trouble handling them.

But who is Izuku outside of it?

There's this misconception, out of translations and not understanding the clues of the original Japanese text, of him repressing and thinking his feelings for Katsuki are gross however turns out he likes them, he doesnt reject them at all. He knows others would see Katsuki's behavior as gross and inappropriate, and yet he acts like him instinctively. This is what he held back when he fought for the second time with Katsuki, and the reason why he lost.

When he had to stop thinking about Katsuki's death, it was the best decision to ensure he would fight against ShigAFO without losing control -it wasn't a negative thing from him, just the best option. This is why Katsuki told him in the memories ep to not think about unnecessary stuff, because he can't stop thinking about those; this is also why he had to get away from the Himiko Ochako Tsuyu fight, because he wouldnt be able to ignore those things.

Katsuki on another hand is able to fight while thinking of emotional memories, and while he died in that moment

I believe there's something going on with Katsuki tho, the little smiles he has given were strange in my opinion, like melancholic, and we still need to know what's going on with his heart just. Being able to handle so much when it exploded.

Idk if we will get a word about Izuku's reaction towards his corpse -sometimes mangakas and comic writers do that, using the rage moment on its own to explain what the character feels when a loved one is hurt instead of giving time to explore the MC's sadness.

Izuku is a hopeful character, but he has a big heart full of emotions and there's something he hid from Katsuki as we saw in their second fight, and I have no idea if this will be brought up. He seems to be focusing more on heroism at the moment -he is sending the message to Spinner like Shigaraki wanted, he talked with Ochako about the topic focusing mostly on a hopeful future more than expressing internal conflicts, and asked mentors and figures of authority about what could be done.

Some people pointed out these chapters are going back to the beginning, and I believe it would be a nice detail to go back to All Might and Izuku and, finally, to Izuku and Katsuki.

I would love to see a more "simple" approach with a bkdk scene; with this I mean to go to the beginning beginning, outside of heroics, just them and the river.

[mounthuatruther]

I read a review that said that Chung Myung is a flat protagonist with no real depth to him and I'm just like????? ???? What?? lol like were we reading the same thing? What really hooked me in this story was Chung Myung's motivations. It was chapter 4 of the webtoon. After seeing Mount Hua in ruins and being super angry he slows down for a minute and wonders if this is all his fault. From there, he begins to take responsibility for the fall of Mount Hua and feels immense guilt that is touched upon more and more as you continue to read. This webtoon is so precious because it makes Mount Hua a sect that you root for and want only the best for in the end. The novel really compels you to feel Chung Myung's rage, guilt, sorrow, regret, loneliness, joy, pride, etc. and it makes me so emotional. I read mostly while I'm at work and I've straight up cried. The beauty of it is that it is not a hard read either! Like I don't have to decode through layers and layers of implications and subtext. Put some respect on my boy's name. Excluding the novel, the webtoon does pretty well with his character and story telling.

I took creative writing and major in film and to me, he is the perfect protagonist. When creating a story with a narrative and a protagonist one of the first questions you want to ask yourself is, "Why should the audience care about them?" The Return of the Mount Hua Sect answered this question from EVERY ANGLE. The first three chapters of the webtoon are pretty much like every other reincarnation manhua: person is killed awfully, wakes up back in time, restarts but knows how to get stronger faster, and then pursues this path. As I previously stated, they start to change it up when we reach chapter 4. We see Chung Myung start to take responsibility AND blame for what happened to his sect. We start to see how he viewed his sect as his HOME. His home is in RUINS. The side and supporting characters help to add to this as well. Chung Myung feels deep sorrow for the elders who have been taking care of the fallen Mount Hua for so long. We see Chung Myung go from the angry old man who is mad that things have changed to the grandpa who wants his home back and to get back at everyone who had a part in its ruin. HE COUNTS HIMSELF AS THE MAIN PERPATRATOR. He truly wants what's best for the kids of Mount Hua and cares deeply and is very passionate all while shouldering these burdens alone. AND THEN HE LEARNS TO OPEN UP AND GROW AND CHANGE

As we keep reading, we see Chung Myung's character development!! I don't want to spoil it because it is mostly stuff from the novel but talks about his past self like he was a different person, he makes multiple notes on how he acts differently or thinks differently, he is trusted by those around him when he wasn't in the past

Overall, Chung Myung's story is very compelling and he is MY HEART