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hollyhomburg · 10 months

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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.”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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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)

596 notes · View notes

zepskies · 6 months

Text

Take Me Home - Part 3

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: I’m being continuously blown away by your lovely responses on this story. Thank you so much! I truly appreciate all the love for our cowboy sheriff and where TMH is going.

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, a heart-to-heart, flirtations, and invitations taken…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 3: Welcome Home

In the next twenty-four hours after Mary was found, the police’s investigation led them to a man named Walter. He’d been living in the woods, and was suspected of stalking the camp for days.

He was arrested as a prime suspect in Mary’s murder at Sunny Day Excursions, along with Paige’s; even though they’d yet to find her body, the police did confirm that she'd never made it home to New York.

They also found Luke later that night. His body was pierced to a tree by an archer’s arrow.

The campers were sent home shortly after Walter was arrested.

And three days later, your aunt Denise gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch you’d been lying in all day (and all week so far). She swept her fingers over your greasy hair in both comfort and affection.

Denise Brisbane was your mom’s sister. She was a private investigator here in Helena. And as you found out, she actually worked with Cassie Dewell, the woman you’d met at the camp, who was still in search of a missing backpacker.

“You’ve barely moved in days, honey,” Denise said.

Her face was sympathetic and sad, watching you. Though you felt the sting of guilt, feeling like a burden that had just been unloaded on your aunt, you didn’t want to leave your warm blankets. Your body felt heavy and useless.

“Good news though. The rest of your stuff ships in tomorrow,” she said, continuing to pet your hair. “I’ll help you move into your new apartment. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod. “Thanks.”

She sighed. “I’m not trying to kick you out, hun. I just think it’ll be good for you to start getting on your feet.”

You agreed, wordlessly. In your head, you knew she was right. You couldn’t sleep on her couch forever, and perhaps more importantly, you couldn’t let this beat you down forever.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Denise asked, squeezing your shoulder. “Your mom wanted to get the first flight out here, but I told her I’d take care of you until you go home for the funeral.”

You were grateful for that. As much as you loved your mother, you didn’t want to be smothered right now. Your mom’s version of comfort could only include a heavy dose of smothering. The one thing you had been able to do was call Mary’s parents.

That had been a long and painful conversation. After which, you slept like the dead for two days straight.

Denise broke you out of your wandering thoughts when she handed you a business card. It had a banyan tree emblazoned on it, along with the name of a grief counseling center.

“Cassie’s actually been going here, and she’s liked it so far,” she said.

At your furrowed look of confusion, she added, “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. Maybe someone who understands what you’re going through.”

You sighed and flipped the card through your fingers. You really, really didn’t want to go. You could already what your father would say if he knew you went to a grief counselor. His form of “therapy” was the growing collection of bourbon behind his desk.

But if it meant you’d stop being a lump in your aunt’s living room, then maybe you could give it a shot.

“Okay,” you nodded. Your voice was a bit coarse with disuse. Denise gave you a smile, and a warm hug that felt like home. She even offered to make your appointment for you.

You were a little annoyed though. Now you’d have to actually get up and put on a bra.

“Maybe shower first, huh?” she advised, while she helped you get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied.

A hot shower, washing and styling your hair, putting real clothes on, and overall making yourself presentable actually made you feel human again. You even surprised yourself by putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you made it to the grief counseling center in your car, however, you sat in the parking lot for a minute. You had to take a moment to breathe. Because you knew you were going to be asked what happened. You were going to have to get into it all over again.

Even after you were able to leave your car and brave through the carpeted halls of the building, your hands were shaking. At the reception desk, an older woman directed you down another long hallway to the group session. It was the only one available on short notice, but she promised that if you found the session helpful, she could help you book another group session, or even a solo session.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for “solo,” but a group appealed to you. Maybe you could just sit in the back and let the others talk.

The counselor, Tom, greeted you when you walked into the right room. It was a small room with a bunch of chairs formed in a circle at the center. No room to hide, you thought with growing unease. You glanced over and saw that there were a few people already milling about, making small talk in a cluster near the circle.

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen. He gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for a cup of water. Seeing him took you by such surprise, you gasped with a slight flinch, accidentally spilling some scalding coffee on yourself in the process.

You held the cup away from you fast, but a few drops still flecked on your jeans, and even his boots.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you gasped again. Beau just smiled good-naturedly and grabbed a few napkins off the table.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m the one who snuck up on you. Accidentally, I might add.”

He handed you the napkins so you could soak up the coffee from your hand and arm. Meanwhile, he took your half-empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage. Your damp wad of napkins joined the cup.

And when you finally looked up at him again, you both found yourselves smiling, despite where you were. It was the first time you’d been able to smile in days.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you greeted. “I did not expect to see you here…”

His smile faltered at that, but his hand reached back to sort through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Ah, call me Beau,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re about to get to know each other better.”

You agreed to that, just as you agreed to join him for a seat within the circle of chairs. He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his hair again, perhaps in a nervous gesture. You glanced over at him, saw the way he smoothed a hand down his jeans when his knee started bouncing…

Could he be as anxious as you? You had to wonder why he was here, for grief counseling of all things. The thought sobered you as more people filtered in and took their seats. Tom eventually got things started from his spot across from you in the circle.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of first timers to this group session, so tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go around, introduce ourselves, and share something interesting. Whether it’s what you do for a living, a new hobby you picked up, or keeping it even more simple, something fun you did this week.”

You looked down at the folded hands in your lap. If binge watching entire seasons of Succession and sleeping until noon every day counted as something fun, then you were all set.

The introductions started to his left, so it took a while before it got around to you. There was that little flutter of nerves in your stomach, like you were a kid again, and it was the first day of school (but worse).

Luckily, Beau was before you. You were curious about what he would share as he let out a subtle clearing of his throat.

“Hi there, I’m Beau Arlen. Some of you know me as the new sheriff over at Helena PD.” He greeted everyone with a short wave, though he tossed you a smiling glance. “You might also be able to tell that I’m from Texas. Born and bred in Houston. I moved up here to stay close to my daughter, who’s living here with her mother…my ex-wife.”

He tacked on that last bit after a slight pause. But he recovered quicker than you could process and gestured to you next. You forced yourself to perk up, putting your “teacher’s hat” on as you tried to meet everyone’s eyes. First, you gave them your name.

“I’m also from out of town, from Chicago,” you said, glancing at Beau. His expression was encouraging. It gave you the small boost you didn’t know you needed. “I’m a college professor, formerly of the University of Chicago…but I start at Caroll College in the fall.”

Beau’s brows rose as his lips twitched upwards. You tried not to blush as you passed on the introductions to the next person.

The session itself was light overall. Tom talked about the stress that often came with the unknown—with moving past a challenging time, or tackling a new project, or even moving to a new and unfamiliar city. He didn’t force everyone to chime in about themselves, but the ones who were ready to share took the floor one by one. And by the end, you thought that you’d gleaned some useful tidbits just by listening.

Hell, maybe you’d even come back here.

When the session was over though, you were kind of relieved. You grabbed your purse and got up to leave.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Beau said, also getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad,” you replied. Your name fell from his lips in the form of a question, earning your expectant gaze.

“Listen, uh, can I buy you a real cup of coffee?” he offered. “We might not have met under the best of circumstances, but I just heard recently that you’re Denise’s niece. Well, I’m friends with the gals over at Dewell & Hoyt, your aunt included, so I just thought it’d be good to get to know each other, being that we’re both kinda new in town, and—”

You set a light hand on his arm. That one touch was able to stop his rambling, along with the sight of your amused smile up at him.

“Coffee sounds great,” you said.

You decided there was no real harm in meeting him at the nearest coffee shop, just a few minutes away.

It was hard not to associate the sheriff with that terrible night at the camp, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and by the way he talked about his daughter, maybe even a good man.

In your experience, a good man was hard to find.

“So, what do you teach exactly?” Beau asked. He’d just finished telling you about Emily starting a summer internship with Cassie and Denise at the private investigation agency. Like father like daughter, you’d remarked. Beau’s soft, but proud smile had been telling.

“English literature,” you replied to his question, sipping at your cappuccino. He was drinking a hot French vanilla latte, which kind of amused you. You had expected him to order an Americano or something.

“Oh, yeah? What sort of classes?” he said.

“The greatest hits, basically,” you explained. “Composition, English grammar, Shakespeare…Twentieth Century British Literature.”

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. It charmed a smile out of you.

“I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t even go to college,” Beau said. It finally succeeded in making you laugh.

“Straight to the police academy, then?” you asked.

“Like a cannonball, heels a blazin’,” he said, miming a gunshot with his hand.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy,” you teased. And you felt brave enough to hum the riff of the Glen Campbell song.

Beau shook his head with a grin. He’d seen you, all tightened up and anxious throughout the group session, even though it had been pretty lightweight. He could relate to your discomfort. He’d made a conscious effort to talk very little about himself and gave the others the room to tell their stories.

Beau liked seeing you more relaxed though. He liked your smile, the glimpses of your sense of humor shining through. He liked that he was somehow able to bring that out of you for a while.

“I still can’t believe you're Denise’s niece,” he said, once again shaking his head. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. I’ve been crashing on her couch for the past week,” you admitted. “But I have the rest of summer to settle into my new apartment, starting tomorrow. I’ve got my whole life shipping in on a truck.”

Beau nodded at that. He contemplated whether it’d be appropriate for him to offer you some help with that. The question was on the tip of his tongue, until he saw the way your mood saddened. You sat contemplating your coffee mug.

“I asked her to come,” you confessed. When your eyes met his, they shone with the beginning of unshed tears. “The camping trip was Mary’s idea, but I asked her to come with me to Helena for the week. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Beau let out a deep breath and met you with a more somber, understanding gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. He was reminded that they had Walter in custody. He wasn’t yet willing to break and confess to the murders at Sunny Day Excursions, but they had him.

“I promise, we’ll get justice for Mary,” Beau added. You sighed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Do you think you have the right man?” you asked, speaking of Walter.

“I do,” Beau replied. “He’s being stubborn, but all the evidence points to him.”

You nodded gratefully, but you had to try and breathe through your tumultuous emotions, the way your heart was cracking with pain. You didn’t want to break down in the middle of a damn coffee shop.

Again, Beau wrestled with the inclination to cover his hand over yours. He felt like he was toeing the line between his professional capacity as a sheriff, and the fact that you were his friend’s niece. He wanted to comfort you the best he could. But sometimes, words just weren’t enough.

You took a half-hearted sip of your coffee. By now, it was lukewarm, if still tasty and sweet. It was healthier than whiskey, you supposed.

“She was like…like my sister, you know?” you said. “I feel like I failed her.”

Beau shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. He didn’t know how many times he could say it wasn’t your fault, knowing you probably wouldn’t ever believe it.

That struck a familiar bell.

“Look, I uh…I understand what you’re going through,” he admitted. Your watery gaze found his again. Your head tilted in interest.

He sighed before answering your unspoken question. “I lost my partner on the job, now a couple years back.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, and your sympathy was as genuine as his had been for you. “I’m guessing you two were close.”

Beau’s lips quirked at one corner. “He was like my brother. Matter of fact, I think it used to make my own brother jealous.”

You processed that with a sad frown, though your brows soon rose in curiosity.

“You have a brother?”

“Yep,” Beau nodded. The brief shadows in his eyes lifted at the merciful change of topic. “Good ole’ David. I still call him Davey, even though he hates it.”

A smile played on your lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger, by a few years,” he replied. There was a more natural gleam to his smile then. “He’s a hotshot doctor back in Houston.”

He teased, but you could see there was pride behind his eyes. It reminded you of the way he got whenever he talked about Emily.

“So you know my story. What brought you to Montana?” he asked. He wanted to see if he could help you get your mind off Mary. He didn’t know that he’d just pulled the pin on a whole other grenade.

You let out a wry chuckle.

“Uh, oh,” Beau said warily.

You nodded. He did tell you his story—ex-wife with a new husband, daughter, a new job in Montana—though you still didn’t know why he was going to grief counseling. If it was because of his partner, you could understand that…but you also didn’t want to pry.

You also knew it was only fair to answer his question.

“It’s not exactly like your situation but…I was engaged,” you said at last.

Past tense, he noted.

“Good guy?” he asked.

“A firefighter,” you replied. Though you knew well the rivalry that sometimes existed between cops and firefighters. Beau’s growing bemusement told you he was thinking along the same lines.

“Ah, a smoke eater, huh?” But his smile faded. “Did something happen to him on the job?”

“No,” you said, again with that weary chuckle. It was hard for you to get this out, but you’d been wrestling with it for over six months, damn near a year. It was enough.

“Just a couple months before the wedding, I found out he’d been cheating on me with his college girlfriend…pretty much throughout our whole relationship,” you said.

Though you promised yourself that you’d never cry over this again, today had already been incredibly difficult. The tears came, and you couldn’t stop them.

Beau's brows had risen high in surprise. Then, a deeper sympathy settled in his eyes.

“Jesus. How long?” he asked.

“We were together three years, engaged for about another one,” you said. “Almost four years of my life, just…”

You mimed a puff of smoke blowing out of your hand.

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Beau said. His tone was wry as he dragged a hand over his beard. You gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I know my story doesn’t compare with a marriage,” you said.

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at,” he replied. “But I get it. You start to think, what the hell was it all for? …Except for my daughter.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have an Emily,” you said. At the same time though, you were very glad you never had kids with that man.

Beau frowned when he saw the way your face fell further, becoming distant, and lost in old memories.

“Afterwards, I…I checked out, you know? I could barely focus on my students, my family, my friends.” Your nails drummed on the countertop. You shook your head as it all filtered through your mind again. “But the last straw was that my dad tried to get me to work things out with him, and I just…I lost it. Beau, I absolutely lost my shit.”

Beau grimaced. “What made your dad think that would work?”

“He’s a retired firehouse chief,” you said, with a purse of your lips. “He’s always had a soft spot for Michael.”

“Michael, huh?” Beau quirked a brow. “That come with a last name?”

You shot him a look of amusement.

“What, are you going to run his LUDS?” you joked, but you couldn’t prevent a sniffle as a new wave of emotion threatened an upswell.

You felt pathetic. This man was the whole-ass sheriff of this town. He probably had more important things to do than listen to you complain about your imploded relationship. But you were also Denise’s niece. Maybe he just felt sorry for you.

He offered you a napkin. “Sorry it’s not a tissue.”

In his eyes though, you didn’t see pity. Just kindness.

“It’s okay. I can brave a scratchy napkin,” you said, laughing a little. “But after that, I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either I was going to break open my dad’s gun safe and shoot the bastard in the ass, or I had to get the hell out of Chicago. My mom and Aunt Denise suggested I come here for a visit, just to clear my head. That turned into scoping out jobs, and then apartments… Now I’m here.”

That fell between you for a moment as your companion processed it all. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole bit about possibly shooting your ex, but he took it in stride.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Beau said. “Here, that is.”

You couldn’t help but blush; at his words, the deep green of his eyes, and the sincerity of his smile.

“Likewise, Sheriff,” you said.

He smirked. “Also glad you didn’t go shootin’ people in the ass.”

You covered your face and laughed.

Beau walked you to your car like the gentleman he was, even though it was only late afternoon. You opened the driver’s side door, but you lingered there. You turned back to him, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the coffee, and for letting me ramble, and vent, and soak up a few dozen napkins,” you said. You laughed a little in embarrassment, but he waved it off.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that, but good luck movin’ into your apartment tomorrow,” he said. Then it was his turn to hesitate. “If you need some help with that, just let me know.”

You blinked, mouth parting in soft surprise.

“Oh, thank you but…I don’t want to trouble you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why I offered,” he replied, smiling down at you in a way that had you melting a little bit more. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, but after, I could probably pull in Cassie. Maybe even Jenny, if she’s up for it. She’s one of our deputies at the PD.”

Beau recognized your hesitance.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “We’ve gotta welcome you to the neighborhood, don’t we?”

You were still a little unsure, but you agreed to it with a thank you, along with a more shy, sweet smile.

Beau liked that smile too.

Later that day, Beau remembered it was his turn to host the ritual movie night Friday with Cassie and Jenny. His trailer was too small to have it inside, so they set up Cassie’s projector out in front, by the fire. According to his friends, he was going about the night with too much cheer.

“You’re entirely too smiley to have just come from an afternoon of therapy,” Jenny pointed out. She uncapped her second beer, then passed him the bucket. He waved her off; he was still nursing his first beer of the night. If he stuck to his plan, then it’d be his only beer of the night.

“Aw, it wasn’t so bad, actually,” he said. He explained that you had been there at the group session. The moment your name was mentioned, Cassie and Jenny both raised their brows.

“Really?” Cassie remarked.

“Yeah. Losing her friend really shook her up. Understandably,” Beau said. His gaze lowered when he played through his afternoon with you in his mind. Though your situations were different, both in your lost friends and lost relationships, he realized just how much he’d understood and connected with a near stranger.

That kind of thing didn’t happen to him often, if ever before.

“But, she’s actually moving into her new place tomorrow,” he added, breaking himself out of his own head. “Speakin’ of, would you two have the time to help her and Denise out? I already said I would come by after shift tomorrow.”

Cassie and Jenny shared a certain look—the kind these women donned when they were having a private conversation with just their eyes. This time, it seemed to be about him.

“What?” he asked, his hands spreading wide.

“Nothing,” Cassie said, smiling. “Sure, I can come.”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, “barring nothing too crazy happens on shift.”

Beau inclined his head. “Knock on wood there. Anyway, what’re we watching?”

“Crazy, Stupid Love,” Jenny grinned, holding up the DVD cover. “For Ryan Gosling, of course.”

Beau rolled his eyes.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have expected that he’d make friends with exclusively women in this town, but he only complained about it in times like these.

Though as it turned out, he enjoyed the movie. There were as many hilarious scenes as there were poignant ones. By the end of the night though, he was beat.

Jenny helped with the cleanup, but she ended up taking off first. It left Beau to put away the fold-up chairs with Cassie.

“So, tell me,” she said, in a leading tone and with a teasing smile. “You crushing on Glamper Girl for real now?”

Beau shot her a wry look.

“She’s not a glamper anymore,” he pointed out. “And I’m not crushing like some teenager. I just want to help her out. She’s been through a lot…and she’s Denise’s family. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a lot of over-explaining you’re doing right there, but okay, Beau.”

He rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna have to insist you get off my property.”

“Off what, your tin can?” she retorted.

“Hey! She can hear you.”

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow strategically while he carried his end (the heavier end, he might add) of your couch. He and Jenny were trying to get it up the stairwell to your apartment on the second floor.

“Okay now, just pivot on this corner,” he instructed. “Pivot!”

Jenny nearly dropped her end out of sheer aggravation. Her blue eyes cut down to his.

“If you say pivot one more time, I’m gonna shoot you,” she snapped.

Beau whistled in amusement. “Threatening to shoot the sheriff. Now that’s at least a misdemeanor.”

Right as he could almost see the fumes coming out of his deputy’s ears, you hustled up the stairs to help them. You picked up the middle to make it easier.

“Okay, we can do this! I think we can just tip it on its side to get it around the corner,” you said.

To everyone’s relief, your suggestion worked. Denise held the door open while the three of you got the couch up to the second floor, then into your apartment. Once the couch was successfully in the living room, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge. You handed one each to Beau and Jenny.

“Thank you guys again so much for doing this,” you said, still catching your breath. You surveyed all the boxes and furniture you all had brought in, and you realized you were crazy to think you and Denise could’ve done all of this by yourselves.

“It’s our pleasure,” Beau nodded. He gestured to his sweating face and neck. “But do you have a towel or a rag or something? You’re about to be mopping me off the floor in a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold on,” you said. You went back into the kitchen and retrieved a clean hand towel. Beau used it to dry his face, neck, and the top of his chest.

You tried not to stare at the flash of tan skin near the collar of his plain gray shirt, or the wet spots clinging to his back. The sleeves were tight around his arms and across his chest, leading you to believe that despite being in his mid-forties, he kept himself in shape.

Meanwhile, Jenny drank her water, and pretended not to notice you staring at her boss. Part of her was amused, but a good part of her felt an unfamiliar sting as well.

“Okay,” Beau clapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh after he drained his own water bottle. “What’s next?”

Your face warmed, because you knew what your aunt was about to say before she said it.

“Oh, I think it’s just your bed, right honey?” she asked you.

“All right, let’s do it. Frame, headboard, box spring, and mattress, I assume,” Beau said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He stretched his arms in preparation.

Again, you had to admire the way his shirt pulled across his tall, broad frame. But you followed after him when he started heading out the door.

“Wait, you shouldn’t do it by yourself!” you called out, and quickly followed after him.

Denise shot Jenny and Cassie a highly amused look.

“That's what she saaaid,” Denise sing-songed. The other two women grimaced.

“Wow. That’s your niece!” Cassie exclaimed.

“And technically my boss, thanks,” Jenny added.

“What, they’re cute, aren’t they?” Denise said, gesturing at the way you and Beau left.

“This from the woman who’s been lusting after that man since the minute he got into town,” Cassie retorted.

“Well, I’m woman enough to bow out when I’ve been thwarted. By my own blood no less,” Denise replied, but her mischievous smile said it all as she breezed back into the kitchen to start unpacking the silverware for you.

She knew for a fact that you’d made dinner for later—and not just because she’d told you how much Beau liked lasagna.

Beau accepted your help, along with Cassie and Jenny’s in bringing up all the parts of your bed. He just insisted on utilizing his own power tools to put it together.

That was how you found yourself holding the headboard up straight while Beau made sure the frame was aligned. It wasn’t as easy as it looked; the wood panels had to slide into the notch in the headboard just so, before he could start drilling the bolts back in.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when one panel of the frame nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Can you actually use that power drill?” Cassie asked. “Because you’re pretty hopeless with cars.”

Beau rolled his eyes, despite his smile. “Save the belittling for later. Tryin’ to concentrate.”

After a few more minutes of sweating, mild cursing, and internal praying, you, Beau, and Cassie managed to get the bedframe put together with the headboard. Then the box spring, and finally the mattress. It marked the official end of moving in.

While Beau, Cassie, and Jenny took a much-deserved rest sitting on the couch with a round of beers, you went to the kitchen where your aunt had already preheated the oven for you. Now you just needed to pull out the two massive pans of lasagna you’d prepared the night before—as a thank you for everyone who came to help you.

Denise sidled up to you and touched your arm to get your attention.

“Good job inviting our dear Beau to lift furniture for us,” she whispered, waggling her brows. You shot her a look and shushed her.

“Do you always flirt with him like this?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, I might have to do it less blatantly if he’s gonna keep playing Mr. White Knight for you,” she teased.

“He is not. He’s just…nice,” you whispered back. “So are Cassie and Jenny.”

Denise gave you an amused look. “Mhmm.”

You rolled your eyes and focused on getting dinner ready.

Within the hour, the five of you were sat at your new modest dining table between the kitchen and the living room, eating lasagna and drinking iced tea. Jenny and Beau had beers alongside them, and conversation drifted from how you intended to set up the apartment, to Cassie’s still open missing backpacker case.

The parents were even more worried now, saying it was out of character for him not to check in with a phone call, despite the email he’d apparently sent them a few days ago. Beau had agreed to give Cassie whatever help she needed on the periphery, especially if further evidence revealed itself on the backpacker’s whereabouts.

Beau was already on his second helping of lasagna when he raised his gaze to you, right across from him at the table.

“Clearly you get your cooking skills from your aunt, because this is fantastic,” he said.

Denise twittered. You blushed a little as you smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

There was a short lull, filled by the tapping of silverware on plates, before Denise spoke up.

“By the way,” she said, looking to you and Beau. “Did you two have a productive time at grief counseling? What did you talk about?”

It was a well-meaning, but perhaps intrusive question. Both you and Beau tensed up. Cassie gave Denise a warning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You guys don’t have to answer that,” Denise amended.

“Um, it’s okay,” you replied. “It wasn’t too bad…I think I might go again.”

Beau had a warmer smile for you. “That’s good.”

You were able to return his smile. You turned to Cassie next.

“You went there for a while, right?” you asked. Cassie nodded.

“It was helpful,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting something out of it.”

You took that with a nod, and returned your gaze to Beau.

“Have you been going there long?” you asked him.

He tilted his head. “Actually, yesterday was my first time too.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, really?”

Cassie was intrigued at the way this little scene was playing out. Thought she caught the look on Jenny’s face while she watched it too. Like Jenny was studying them, not sure what to make of it all.

Beau wore a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah. Just…hadn’t gotten around to it,” he answered you.

There was a heaviness in his voice and in his eyes that you didn’t miss, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in a room full of people, even if they were his friends.

“Well, I’ll go again if you do,” you offered, a bit bolder than you felt. Beau met your eyes across the table, and his lips lifted at the corners.

“All right,” he said. “You got yourself a deal, miss ma’am.”

You fought against a blush rising up your neck. You glanced down and took a sip of your iced tea.

“Look at you. Pulling out your ‘sheriff’ voice,” Cassie teased.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy…” you sang into your glass. Your smile peeked out around the corners of it.

Most of the table laughed. Jenny smiled, but opted for drinking her beer.

Meanwhile, Beau gave you a mock look of betrayal. His true amusement shone through his eyes.

“I see how this is. Gang up on the Texan time,” he remarked.

That gave Cassie an opening to ask you something, and hopefully get to know you better. Already she had an instinct about you: she liked you. And clearly Beau seemed to as well. Cassie tended to be more cautious about people, even if you were Denise’s family.

“So how are you liking the Midwest so far?” Cassie asked you.

“So far? It’s the fresh air I needed,” you replied.

“Oh, you should check out that art studio you wanted to see,” Denise chimed in.

“You’re an artist too?” Beau asked, raising a brow. You chuckled.

“No, just an amateur with a handful of brushes,” you replied.

You remembered the peace you’d gotten while painting in sight of the mountains. But when you got to Denise’s house, you’d hidden away those canvases, not wanting to be reminded of that week at Sunny Day Excursions. And of Mary.

“Oh, but have you gone horseback riding yet?” Denise asked. “I know you were gonna try on your camping trip—”

You loved your aunt. You really did, but she also had a knack for putting her foot in her mouth. The others quieted as you dimmed at the actual mention of that God-forsaken place.

“I tried,” you said. “I never actually managed to make it on the horse.”

“Aw, well if you ever want to go, there’s a stable in town. They give lessons too,” Denise said.

You nodded and forced a smile. You went back to picking at the remnants of lasagna and salad on your plate.

When everyone began to filter out of your new apartment, each with their own set of well-wishing and a container of leftovers to take home, Beau ended up being last to leave. You had followed him to the door, where you handed him his tupperware of leftovers, and he thanked you in appreciation.

“Now I just need a microwave,” he said. “My toaster oven’s been on the fritz.”

Your brows rose in amusement. “You have a toaster oven, but not a microwave?”

“Well, let’s just say my trailer doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of space for appliances,” Beau replied, chuckling.

You smiled at that. You hesitated, but you eventually touched his hand that held the tupperware.

“Thank you again for coming here, for helping me…and for yesterday,” you said.

Beau almost didn’t realize it, but his face was getting warm. As warm as your pretty smile.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” he said. “And just puttin’ it out there, I may or may not have been riding a horse before I could walk. First memory I have is my dad putting me on Old Bess when I was four. She nearly kicked me off…not that that would happen to you. I’m just saying—”

“I see.” Your giggle ended with a smirk. Beau tended to ramble. You weren’t sure if it was a nervous tick, or just a facet of his upbeat personality…but you found it endearing.

He leveled you with a grin. “Listen, what I mean to say is, if you’re serious about wanting to learn how to ride, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.”

You bit your lip, mentally beginning to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, you still had reservations, both on riding a horse, and on Beau being the one to teach you. Was he just being nice, your “friendly neighborhood sheriff,” or was your aunt onto something?

…You weren’t sure, but your instincts told you that at the very least, you could trust him with this. And trust had become hard for you to give any man.

“Okay, cowboy. Let’s ride,” you said. And you even surprised yourself with the flirtatious note in your voice.

Beau’s grin kicked up a notch. You then exchanged numbers so you could hash out the details of when and where to meet sometime soon. Hopefully soon.

Then you wished him a good night.

“G’night, darlin’,” he said. He lingered in the hallway for a parting grin. “And welcome home.”

Your answering smile warmed him, long after he left your door.

AN: *rubs hands together* We're really getting into it now. 😂 Finally we have the big reveal of why she left Chicago, and the start of her and Beau's bond. You'll see more of that, and of Emily, in the next chapter...

Next Time:

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck.

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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inventors-fair · 2 months

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Updates and Expectations

Hey folks. Couple of important notes before we get into the meat:

To accommodate spoiler warnings, we generally ask that future set mechanics not be used until a set has had its prerelease—i.e. don't use Duskmourn mechanics until the contest announced on September 15th, since the prerelease will be on that Friday the 20th. Again, this is minor, something we'd prefer, but not the end of the world. We've talked about this on Discord but not on Tumblr, so some folks might not have heard about it. Our bad.

If you're somehow not submitting from a Tumblr account, please add some way to tag you, or literally any information whatsoever. We've had a couple folks submit from email addresses and, well, it's frustrating when we're not even sure if you're gonna see comments later.

As everyone knows, all cards need artist credit for discernable pictures. If it's a random set of pixels like what I usually do, don't worry about it. If it's a text art description, also don't worry about it. Original art? Credit yourself, you gorgeous maestro! Mashup art from other MTG cards? Gotta credit 'em all. Stock photo? Find the original photographer and/or credited group. Game screenshot? Credit the developer. Use your critical thinking skills and find solutions; we have faith in y'all's abilities.

Alright. Now for the other stuff.

Commentary on cards, as everyone knows, can range from some quick snippets to a massive essay-long series of thoughts and opinions. I range from about 4,000-8,000 words for mine. Now that I'm working on Saturdays, it's going to be a bit tight to get things in in the afternoon, but that's what Friday (and the week in general) is for. I'm in a fortunate position regarding time, space, and experience in writing.

As some folks might've noticed, commentary isn't always on time with the contests in question. The long story short is that there's no easy solution to this. If I was running this full-time solo, I would barely have time to write for myself during the week. Even divided, commentary is a massive undertaking—and it isn't always tenable.

Going forward, the winners and runners should still be around their right time barring extenuating schedules and circumstances. Commentary will just not always be available for the rest of the entries, especially if there are larger numbers. I don't think that limiting the number of entries is a good option, and there are just too many factors for this position to warrant that every judge fulfill commentary every week. I'll try to get in commentary as much as I can, and in this position I'm grateful that I'm able to get it all done to the degree that I have over the years. Not everyone has that time or energy, and it's more of a toll than meets the eye.

In the #fair-talk in Discord, Judges can ask any questions you might have about the card and offer their opinions and insights. That way, you can get some in-depth comments on your card that may not be available in lieu of full commentary. If full commentary is available, then feel free to read up and read away!

One last note: THE EARLIER YOU GET YOUR CARD IN, THE BETTER! Late entries are totally fine, but speaking from experience, doing commentary over the week becomes more difficult when we have multiple entries down to the wire. Sometimes timing and schedules make things difficult! The fact is that timing still matters. Help us help you.

We're all here for the love of the game. We all understand that mental taxes are just as taxing as anything. And, I hope we all understand that writing is really hard. Be well, stay sharp.

@abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #inventor's fair #updates

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thewertsearch · 1 year

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Asks Comp - 16/4

I literally did not know The Baby Is You was a thing. To be welcomed back into the comic like this after four months is very on brand for Homestuck.

... and wow, its outro really does match the end of this song, doesn't it? That's even funnier than if he'd snuck some of Megalovania in there.

Ooh, that's another liveblog I'll want to check out when I'm done! I've never actually seen a Worm liveblog before. Adding it to the list myself!

Nothing's really changed since I've been gone! I make a conscious effort not to do much Homestuck analysis off-blog, since I want my journey to be fully documented here.

It's good to be back! I'm looking forward to a full reread when I'm done.

Would you believe I didn't even know there was a book?

I also didn't know the movie had two (allegedly) terrible sequels, which is very funny. Neverending story indeed.

Thank you! I can't take too much credit, though - most of my tagging system has been crowdsourced from askers!

At some point, before we reach the end of the comic, I'm going to have to formalize my approach to liveblogging Homestuck's side content.

What I'll probably do is give each of them the 'lite' treatment initially, but if they turn out to be more canonical than I thought, or particularly interesting to liveblog, I'll 'zoom in', and analyze them properly. We'll see how we go!

Could you imagine the relationship dynamics in your average troll soap opera? The shipping web for a single season would make our heads explode.

It's a fun question. What sort of object symbolizes everything?

The first thing I'd try would be a star chart, Dave's magnifier and a literal planetful of Grist.

Added to the list! Not until later later on, though - I'd worry that the opinions and theories of another liveblogger could interfere with my own, especially if they're talking about it with someone who's already read it!

I would find it hard to disagree.

Do people think Act 1 is pointless?

I mean, it is the slowest Act in terms of pacing, but slow pacing isn't always a bad thing. You sort of have to take it slow when your readers have this much to get to grips with.

...okay, maybe we didn't need quite as many Sylladex mishaps as we got. But we still needed some. Homestuck has a lot to introduce you to.

I always pictured an English accent for Hass - although, interestingly, I didn't picture one for Jade. As a headcanon, I like the NZ one better.

Where did Grandpa grow up again, actually? He was raised by Fake Mark Twain, who was from Missouri - but I don't have a clue what a Missouri accent sounds like, let alone one from a century ago. I have a funny feeling that it's not the accent I'm imagining coming from Jade.

Now that's a ship I'd never have seen coming. Props to Hussie for coming up with something more controversial than my Feferi<>Equius.

All four kids, with four endgame weapons, might be able to challenge Jack's current incarnation - but they're not going to get the chance. You've hit the nail on the head - he's semi-perfect Jack for a reason.

I have several theories for Jade's prototyping, and every single one of them would make Jack even more dangerous than before. It's just barely possible to challenge him now, but things will only get worse.

Read the room, Serket!

Would Vriska have tried to negotiate? She feels like the type of person who'd rather take a beating than admit they're outclassed. Plus, I'm not sure how much she'd have to offer Aradia, who seemed entirely motivated by revenge (and, possibly, secretly motivated by timeline stuff).

All that said, I would have loved to hear Vriska trying to worm her way out of this.

I love it! Please send in the completed house, if you get the chance. That's going to look so cool with a moving meteor.

And they're both easily distractible! This feels like two people who might actually get on surprisingly well, if they were in, say, the same high school class.

It's hard to say what's a rarepair, since I don't know what ships are rare in the fandom - although I'd have a few guesses about the most common ones.

If we're going for a ship with very tenuous connections, I will submit Rose x Feferi for your appraisal. They're both fans of the Noble Circle, and their signature colors are pretty close.

You know what, I'll just review all of your ships. Tavros/Gamzee - PB&J - is pretty cute. [] I'd recommend Miracle Child for a number of reasons, but it does include a well-written Gamtav. Jack/Droog is more <> to me than it is <3. Like One Sundered Star might be influencing that? I'm not really sure. Somewhere I think I saw a Jack<>Droog. Your pre-shipping chart post isn't in the chrono; also, I'm pretty sure the A6A6I5 ask is one of mine. Gamzee/Eridan is a rarepair; I've seen it, but not often, and it's a <> in the fic I'm referencing. Kanaya<>Terezi and Feferi<>Vriska are strange enough that I've never seen them anywhere, really. [] And finally, Vriska and Tavros. These two are the textbook example of why the ashen quadrant needs to exist, and they're a perfect pair for it. [] ~LOSS (8/1/23)

I don't even know if Carapacians have moirallegiance - but those two would definitely work if they did.

Out of all my ships you flagged as rare, I think my favorite is Feferi<>Vriska. I just think they'd gel weirdly well together!

#asks #full liveblog #act 5.2

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pbandjesse · 4 months

Text

I just got home from hanging out with Jule. It was such a nice time and a really nice way to end the day. I am tired, today was long. But it was a really nice day and I feel pretty happy inside.

I slept later then planned. Waking up at 830. I meant to wake up at 730. Oops. I only really woke up because Alexi called me to ask me a question. I felt so bad! We had just been up late having fun and talking and being silly. After I finished my post last night I was just having to much fun being with my husband. Laughing and joking and being in love! Which lead to me oversleeping.

But it was fine. I got up and apologized to Alexi. I was a little frazzled and would leave without checking on sweetp, for the first time. Which was the worst time to do so because when James got home at 5 they discovered Sweetp had been in the basement the entire day!!! He's fine but I felt so bad!! We need to put a second litter box down there just in case this happens again. He thankfully didn't pee on anything but I wouldn't have blamed him if that did happen. 8 hours!

I didn't know that he was trapped though and left for work.

I had a very easy drive in. And got to camp at 930. But while there was no traffic that does not mean I did not have issues. I had tried to eat my egg sandwich while driving and it exploded and yoke went all down to cleavage. Like really everywhere. It was horrible. I had to pull over on the side of the highway and use napkins and water to clean myself up. And I thankfully did a good job and was fine. I barely got it on my clothes, mostly just on my skin. It felt gross but I was able to get cleaned up and was only a little upset about it.

When I got to camp I jumped right into my computer work. I didn't want to lose motivation.

I had schedule updates and lessons and printing and printing and printing. I would print and organize all of the programs and lessons and schedules. I could binder clip them with labels so when they get copied next week it will be easier to figure out. And instead of printing from the computers we can just make copies. So whoever is tasked with that won't have to use a laptop which is always a problem. Problem hopefully solved.

All this printing and organizing and stuff took a few hours. I would stop for lunch. And during lunch I purchased a new lash perm kit so I can have nice lashes for camp and not feel self conscious. I don't wear eye liner during camp but I like mascara but also if I just have nice lashes I will feel prettier. I would also find a new eye cream. I would text with James and checked in with Jule. We were still on for dinner.

I had more tasks for the afternoon. Creating binders for each specialty program. I would design little covers and made sure each binder has a schedule and all the lessons and other information for each group. I really hope that these can be helpful for them. Especially because half of them won't be here next week. Which is tough but we'll make it work. I'm excited to work with them. And officially I am specialty senior staff and I'm super excited about it.

I would have some meeting with Alexi and Heather. And would send some emails. I was put in charge of sending a form for people to write how they want their name tags to appear. The form was two questions "what would you like your name tags to say (Ms, Mr, Mx, coach, your majesty, your honor, pronouns optional)" and "would you like your job title on your name tag?" This was mainly because not everyone knows their jobs yet and also some people will move around so it's not a fixed answer. I was excited to see by the time I was finishing for the day we had 13 responses and it was really interesting to see what people wanted to be referred to as! It was nice.

I spent the last half hour taking a quiz for camp. I had to answer a question they make us answer every year that I disagree with so much. "True or false. It's okay for kids to be bored." And they say it's false!! They say that kids should be involved and active every hour and every minute. That's the langue they use. I think that's insane and also not developmentally appropriate! Kids need to be okay with being bored. With solving being bored without us entertaining them!! It makes me crazy that that's what they are saying when it's not true. I also just think they are being honest. That they know there are situations where boredom will happen but they are not being honest about that. This is why I hate true and false because there is so much nuance so I have to answer based on what they want rather then what it actually true.

I still passed the test though so it's fine.

I would head out at 4 but I decided I would waste time so I could go directly to dinner with Jule.

I would go to goodwill first. Where I found a very fluffy wearable blanket. I had a nice little conversation with the cashier. And then I tried to go to Aldi but the GPS took me to one that isn't open yet?? So instead I went to Lidil. Where I got a chocolate pastry and some sauces to keep at camp. To replace last year's specialty ketchup. Now we have a new ketchup and also boom boom sauce. Amazing.

I made one more stop at Target to use their bathroom and buy a body oil I was i influenced to buy. I hope it makes my skin feel nice.

I would go to Hamden to meet Jule. And it was such a nice time!

I got a parking space pretty quick. And got a little turned around because it turned out this place's front door is in the alley. But it ended up being so cool! Jule was really nice. And wicked smart.

We ordered our food. I got a tofu bun that was so good?? Would have again. I also got a Thai tea. And we sat and talked.

She works with the UN. And I loved hearing all about how her job works. She helps with policy for humanitarian work. Just completely outside my realm of knowledge and that was awesome. I love learning a lot different worlds. And she was just so nice to talk to. We would hang out for two hours and we got so much covered in that time. It was so fun.

After we finished eating we would walk around Hamden. We came across a little craft market. Where I got business cards and made connections to invite people to apply at the farmers market. One stained glass maker specifically, I hope she comes because her work was so nice.

We would continue our walk. We went around the park. Talked about skateboarding and our families. Eventually she said she would like ice cream so we went to the charmery.

She got Lady Grey, which is a tea flavor, and I got the lemon stick, which was a lemon with peppermint. It was so light and nice. We got there before the crowd. We sat on the bench inside and talked and people watched and it was really nice.

I really hope we find time to hang out again. She said we should go hiking sometime. I am excited to have a new friend.

I shook her hand at the end because I thought it was funny. But we had a goodbye hug and went on our way.

I had to walk a few blocks to my car. But it was a nice walk. And I was very happy.

I went home and was so happy to see my James and Sweetp. Omelet was swimming around and looking so good. I'm thrilled that adding two new friends has made him so so good.

James had brought in my package which was my new orange platform Crocs. I'm really excited for them. I love an ugly shoe so much.

Me and James sat in the kitchen and talked. But eventually I came up here to take a shower and start winding down for the evening.

Now James is here and I'm ready to get in bed. Today was a really good day.

Tomorrow is going to be very busy. With market and museum. But that's fine. I'm looking forward to a good day.

I hope you all have a good day too. Sleep well. I love you all. Until next time.

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mjsakurea · 1 year

Note

got sent this one today. of course you can ignore this, but i'm sending it anyway <33 - Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Okay I'm gonna answer this over a month later lol, sorry! Thank you for the tag! <3

My own favorite 5 fics I've written, I've been thinking about it a lot! It's a tough decision cause I don't tend to reread my own fics after I've posted them. It was fun to think about it deeply though.

Bent Not Broken (fandom: The Untamed)

Summary: In honor of June being scoliosis awareness month 5 times Lan Wangji struggled with his scoliosis and one time he didn’t have to

This one because it was so meaningful to me to write something centered on scoliosis and scoliosis surgery and the after-effects. Everything I wrote about is stuff I've also experienced. It was extremely cathartic to write. But also the reactions to it blew me away, most comments were from people saying that they felt represented in their own scoliosis experiences. I could not have expected nor hoped for such an amazing response.

2. Good Name (fandom: Guardian)

Summary: “Shen Wei,” the letter starts. “Hi, it’s me Zhao Yunlan. If you’re reading this, we’ve switched again. And yeah, switched, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that when you take over my body, I take over yours. Sorry for drinking alcohol. I didn’t realize you were such a lightweight.” Kimi no Na wa / Your Name AU - no knowledge of the source material is necessary to understand the plot of this story

This is the second longest fic I've ever written and also the only multi-chapter fic that I've fully completed *before* posting. It was a huge test of patience and it paid off! The first fic I got beta'ed also. Being able to post a chapter a week consistently and the satisfaction of it being already finished was great. Also I just personally love the AU and look back on it fondly.

3. The Heart of the Matter (fandom: Guardian)

Summary: Dixingren differ from Haixingren in one very crucial way: their heart is on the opposite side of the body. Zhao Yunlan never thought he'd be so thankful to find out Shen Wei is Dixingren in the worst possible circumstance.

This one because it proved to me that being completely self-indulgent pays off. In terms of kudos, comments, and bookmarks it is my most popular Guardian fic, but I'm not focusing on the statistics here it is just the fact that I thought it was too self-indulgent when I wrote it but then the reaction being so positive made me look at it in a different light and now when I think about an idea being self-indulgent I think back on this fic and tell myself nah I can be as self-indulgent as I want, and that self-indulgent fics are a good thing.

4. love them all for me (fandom: The Untamed)

Summary: He is barely a teenager when he is brought to Koi Tower where he meets a gentle young woman mourning the deaths of her husband and adoptive brother. She shares soup and stories of love and loss. Or Jiang Yanli sees a struggling young Mo Xuanyu and asks, “is no one else going to adopt him?” and does not wait for an answer.

This one because it was a pivotal fic in developing my writing style. This one was hugely experimental for me. I was very deliberate in how I wrote it stylistically. It was also the first fic I ever did in the present-tense. And then I realized I like present-tense better than past tense for my own writing haha.

5. A Fox Cannot Hide Its Tail (fandom: Guardian)

Summary: Li Qian speaks, “You won’t—it sounds—” “Crazy?” Zhao Yunlan cuts in. He smiles and says, “Try me.” It truly must be something strange if they can accept that he would believe them about the sentient shadow but not about this. “The shadow was chased away by a fox,” Li Qian admits softly like she doesn’t want him to hear her say it. “A fox?” Zhao Yunlan asks, eyebrows raised.

Full on recency-bias here lol but it's my current WIP so I want to include it. I am happy with where it's going. And it's the first complete canon-rewrite AU I've attempted! It is also self-indulgent as heck but I've already established that is A-okay!

Honorable mentions to the three fics I posted for the wishlist event just last week cause I love making gifts for people haha

#ask games #fic recs #my fic

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crystalcatgamer · 10 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tag by @havenotwillnotreadthebooks, lo, Kefi!

How many works do you have on AO3?

122 🎵 I’ve orphaned and deleted a few along the years, though.

What fandoms do you write for?

Uhhhh. Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint (ORV), Boboiboy, Jujutsu Kaisen and more. Currently really, really fixated on One Piece though I haven’t written fic yet, but am cooking so much toxic doomed brothers food (Donquixote Bros)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Vis la goddamn DSMP phase always going to be my biggest mark in the world. Excluding discontinued fics and stuff I’m not happy with anymore for now…

Run, run (Here comes the boy) 1415 kudos

May the odds (Be ever in your favour) 1203 kudos

There are days where I don’t know the person in the mirror (And there are days I don’t care) 1161 kudos

Hold you in my hands like hot tea 1155 kudos

Knowing I’m safe cause you want me 1052 kudos (A sequel to fourth place!)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to every single comment I can, though sometimes I might miss some! I’ll catch them months later lmao. It’s always fun to chat with ppl about what’s in my fic

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back. This is an ORV fic, doomed Doksoo (beloved) and since it’s canon compliant… yeah. ‘Twas full of angst that came from love.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The deep blue of summer nights. This was a cute ORV fic born of me wanting to write Secretive Plotter’s birthday being celebrated by ABFD, SWK and Uriel! They’re my fav rare dynamic

Do you get hate on fics?

I think the closest I got was some discourse on my DSMP fic? To be expected, and it was cleared up soon enough!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I did like years ago lmao, tucked into the depths of the internet. Definitely not on main, for this is a family friendly account sir. It was fun in a way but also I hated writing it most of the time??? More of a reader than a writer I would say. As for what kind… while, I wrote what I liked ☆

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I HAVE THREE (3) CROSSOVERS AND THEY’RE BOTH WITH JUJUTSU KAISEN. Maybe I’m more insane over JJK then I thought I was. In my defence they’re easy to cross. Okay so basically my craziest one is this ORV X JJK one (Something blue, something new) in which I wrote the ship Kim Dokja x Gojo Satoru because I was commissioned to

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope and I hope I never do!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not, but as long as people ask first I’m always open to it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A FNAF fic I wrote with Kefi (the one who pinged me for this game): Many vegetables, one soup, and a work full of original poems with @thenamelesshaven: You are made of the sea and the stars (and one day you are going to find yourself again)

What’s your all time favourite ship?

[glances at my art gallery] Recently, LawLu from One Piece and… Sharron/Maric from Lord Of The Mysteries

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

We Shouldn’t Be This Kind Of Tired At Our Age! An ORV fic featuring Yoo Mia witnessing Yoo Joonghyuk’s changes with every turn!

What are your writing strengths?

Uhhhh. Being able to churn out stuff at the speed of light. And writing angst (lol)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually having a proper outline, ehe. It’s why I usually write one-shots.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Uhhhh I? Might do it some day? I’m just a bilingual guy who barely passed Chinese. It’s cool when other people who know what they’re writing about do it in their fics tho.

First fandom you wrote for?

Ehe. VIS LA BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA (MY HERO ACADEMIA) but the fic’s been orphaned to the void ✌🏻

Favourite fic you’ve written?

Woah. Tough question, scrambling for it… this one! when I look in his eyes, well, I just see the sky. It’s a Black Butler fic I wrote recently for Whumptober (2023), Elizabeth Midford centric! I love her a lot <3

#got a game for me #my family gets a personal tag #my writing #orv #fic

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amazingmsme · 2 years

Text

Top 22 of 2022

End of the year tag game created by the lovely @otomiya-tickles This was so much fun, you always make the best tag games! Thanks for tagging me!

Part 1: Fandom Faves

01. Favorite new fandoms of the year:

Our Flag Means Death, The Boys, Moon Knight, Workaholics, The Stanley Parable, (I know I’m super late to the game but this game rocks) Godless, other seasons of critical role, inside job & uh… does Goncharov count?

02. Favorite new ships since this year:

Blackbonnet, not new but still my faves, Namdermo, & Shadowgast & probably some more that I’m forgetting

03. Favorite anime/TV show of the year:

Despite not seeing the new season, my fave anime this year is Demon Slayer. As for my favorite show of the year, I think the latest season of WWDITS wins

04. Favorite movie of the year:

Prey, Pinocchio (Guillermo del Toro), but if I had seen NOPE it would undoubtedly be that, Where the Crawdads Sing, others I’m sure. But this year I have barely seen any new movies & I haven’t seen any new marvel film starting with Spider-Man NWH (I know I know, you’re gonna beat me with rocks & all that jazz)

05. Favorite character of the year:

Caleb Widogast has had me in a headlock ever since I first saw him & he hasn’t let me go since

06. Favorite soundtrack of the year:

I genuinely don’t have an answer xiavaowh I don’t tend to remember what movie soundtracks I like unless it really stands out, & I’ve barely seen any new movies this year. But my favorite soundtracks in general are Wild America, The Kings or Summer and O Brother Where Art Thou

07. Favorite book/manga/comic of the year:

I don’t keep up with what is published that year, but my favorite book I found this year is Night Film by Marisha Pessl

08. Favorite game of the year:

Favorite game actually released this year? God of War Ragnarok. Favorite one I’ve played this year? Either Doki Doki Literature Club or The Stanley Parable

09. Highlight of this year to remember:

Fuckin’ Goncharov babyyyyy!

Part 2: Community Review

10. Favorite Tumblr moments of 2022:

Goncharov obvi, the queen’s death crab rave, Nov. 5th anniversary, & all the memes that came out this year. I have no grip on time so I have no idea which ones came out this year & I’m so dead inside I can’t force myself to remember

11. Favorite fan art of the year:

I don’t keep things organized enough to be able to actually find my favorite fan art specifically, but @fluffomatic is one of my fave artists on here, along with @ssnicker-doodless & @shyticklemonster r, @fluffy-alien alien but of course tons of other blogs as well!

12. Favorite fic of the year:

Bold of you to assume I can pick favorites & actually remember them 12 months later skagdk fr tho, some of my favorites are You Got My Devotion & Temptation, Frustration, So Bad It Makes Him Cry- @nhasablogg A Gentleman's Torture- @august-anon & uh, basically every single critical role fic. But specifically Waiting For My Mind To Go To Sleep & Embarrassing and Undignified- @chockfullofsecrets lightning damage- @spritewrites & something good to celebrate- @sapphicquill

13. Favorite ask game of the year:

Even tho I never really get asks when I reblogged that kind of stuff, I really enjoyed the list of questions on the fic writer ask game

14. My top achievements as a writer/artist/creator/blogger:

I finally managed to participate in tickletober & finish it despite 2 major deaths in the family at that time, can someone say coping mechanism?

15. My own best fic/post of the year:

I gotta go through & actually look but Draw Me Something as Pretty as You did the numbers this year, like ever other steddie fic lol. MY personal favorite tho was Dare to be Bold & actually got over 100 notes.

16. My most underappreciated fic/post of the year:

Too many of my tickletober fics tbh but that’s what I get for writing for microscopic fandoms like new girl, tuck everlasting & wolf 359 which all clock in around 10 notes each. You’d think with only 4 notes my Night Film fic What A Prize would win this category. But my Imposters fic Junk in the Trunk & Workaholic fic Pizza Payback tie with a whopping 1 note!!!

17. A post of mine that got more popularity than expected:

My recent “porn bots want me carnally” shitpost. I guess because it’s so relevant? (Seriously don’t get me started on that, I had close to 10 try to follow me yesterday alone)

18. Something I changed on my blog since this year:

I made a kofi! So if you feel like supporting me or you really want a fic, feel free to commission me!

Part 3: Next Year

19. Something I didn’t post this year but would like to do next year:

Mark my words I WILL make a Goncharov tickle fic, just you wait & see. I also want to write more for new or smaller fandoms I enjoy & get back to writing my chaptered fics. I also have some long one shots I want to make

20. Goals for next year:

Keep writing as much as I can, get back into physical art like oil painting, post more of my chaptered fics that I accidentally. I also want to read more fics because I really fell behind this year due to mental health & school

21. 2023 releases I look forward to the most:

The new season of The Legend of Vox Machina & uuuuhhh yeah I’m brain dead, I have no fuckin’ clue what’s coming out next year

Part 4: Spreading Love

22. Shoutouts to people who made my 2022 a better year:

I can’t promise to remember everyone, but I can sure try. Thanks to everyone for making this year not suck as much as it could’ve, y’all don’t know how much it makes me smile

@happyandticklish @ticklishraspberries @ticklish-touch @raybidtickles @shunniebuns @sugarfics @hypahticklish @fluffomatic @fluffy-lee-boa @fluffy-alien @a-fluffer-nutter @a-simple-lee @lemonsandstrawberries @tickletastic @anasticklefics @tickle-bugs @tickle-fight-club @rosileeduckie @thebest-medicine @peachytickles @poesparakeet-fics @eldritchtickles @tickly-floof @spritewrites @august-anon @ticklygiggles @sapphicquill @nhasablogg @chockfullofsecrets @sunlitanon @shyticklemonster @ssnicker-doodless

& a ton of others! Love you all & I’m so glad I have y’all in my corner!

#tag meme #tag game #otomiya tickles #best of 2022 #writer ask game #writer memes #fic meme

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2bitviking · 2 years

Text

Hey, sorry in advance, this is kinda a rant post/vent post. I try not post to much personal stuff on here because I'd rather y'all view you're old pall 2bit as a nice purveyor of landscapes, bad puns, and calls to overthrow capitalism as opposed to someone having a breakdown in the break room at like 7am. Feel free to disregard, not read, and just scroll right past I just need to shout into the void a little.

I just feel so alone and so burnt out and so empty. I'm at work 60 hours a week and feel so suffocated by it. I have to be the one to put on a happy face, to calm down the patients, to pick up where the other staff fuck up or just don't care enough to do their job right. If someone's getting hit it's me. If someone's cleaning up shit it's me. If someone's cleaning up someone's mistake it's me. And I'm just so damn tired if being the one that everyone else has to rely on. All my patients are just so damn exashting, like I don't expect them not to be needy and aggressive and annoying but it's just every damn second there's something new and they can't just tell me everything they need at once they're gonna make me go back and forth to the same place for every new thing. Idk I'm just so ready to leave here but the only place we're I could make close to this much are just as bad and I am barely making ends meet as is. And it doesn't help things that I still have to be the supportive one everywhere else in my life. The closest things I have to friends always make me feel like the after thought and tag along and barely interact with me if it's not in a group, and when we do I always feel like I have to walk on eggshells because if I say something out of turn they won't say anything to me and just send blocks of text about it to each other later and have someone else ask me to apologize or address it. No one cares about including me, or making me feel comfortable, or doing things I can be apart of. It doesn't help that I don't even feel like I have any support from my partner either. Like I love them, and I get that they're in school and working, but I haven't felt like this was an even relationship in so long and I don't even know how to fix it at this point. I have to cover rent, health insurance, phones, most our food, any significant spending or emergencies, and I still have to give them money to cover personal cost like every ither month. I can't even vent or tell them about issues in our relationship or in my life because they're somehow less mentally stable than I am and it always leads to a breakdown or them not being able to focus on school and work and setting things back further and at this point it's just easier for me to be unhappy and suffering than for me to have to clean up another mess. Literally the only solution I can think of is to leave and get a roommate that could help cover rent but that doesn't fix any problems, it just frees me up of like a grand a month in expenditures so I have the time and money to address my other problems. And even then it's not like I have anyone that would want to move in so I'd be scrambling to find some random person to live with and just hoping that all works out. I just don't feel like I have a home or a place where I can just be myself anymore. I just want to feel like I have people I can be around without being bombarded about when I'm gonna have a kid or get a house or move on with my career, or be made to feel like I'm a threat if I act like anything more than just pleasant wallpaper. I'm just so tired and alone and I just want someone in my life to give a shit and help.

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uwu-twistedthorn-uwu · 2 years

Note

How about 6, 28, and 30 for the ao3 ask game?

AO3 wrapped ask game

6. Favorite title you used

Continuing the tradition of you always picking the most annoying question whenever I participate in an ask game, I don't really know. My absolute favorite titles I came up with this year were for a fic I haven't posted yet (it's first chapter has been a wip since early August) and for a fic I haven't even started yet (because it's based on an event not yet in the English version). So just looking at the fics I actually posted this year, I guess I'll just go through process of elimination to pick a fave.

First of all, fuck all the one word titles. Every single one of them was created on the spot because, I didn't come up with a name before it was time to post (the one exception being that unfinished fic). Next up, the sexual titles (aka NRC Masturbate Chef and Monster Fucking). Though I do love shitty puns, these have one major flaw. I die of embarrassment every time I have to say them out loud. I prefer fic titles where I can talk about them in public without anyone within earshot immediately realizing that when I say "creative writing", I mean porn.

Out of the remaining options, I guess I'd pick While Floyd Was Off at Camp? I don't have any reason for choosing beyond the fact that I like how it sounds when I say it out loud. (I don't hate the ones I eliminated, I just needed to narrow down the options somehow)

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

This is another hard one, but for the opposite reason. For the first time like ever, I adore basically everything I've written this year. Even fics I felt meh about when intially posting, I've since reread and gone "Oh wait, this isn't bad at all, I'd just been staring at it too long."

So I suppose I'll go with Our Little Secret, because for something written in such a short time I'm awfully happy with how it turned out. But basically all of my Twisted Wonderland fics are my precious babies, and I could have just as easily picked any other one.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Just the fact that I've written (and posted) all these fics. If you told me back in January that I'd post 11 one shots in less than a year, all of them extremely self indulgently horny, I'd have laughed in your face.

Like, I had written some yugioh smut fics a couple years ago, but they were explicitly (lol) created with the intent of never posting them ever. NRC Masturbate Chef was supposed to be yet another of these forbidden fics, created for my enjoyment and no one else's. It was freeing, because at the time I fucking hated my writing, so not having to worry about what others might think meant I could just have fun with it.

But after finishing the fic (and starting on the next one, Sleeping Moray) I realized "Hey wait I'm actually proud of this, when did that happen?". I wanted to share my writing, but didn't want to post it on my ao3 account, as I wasn't visibly proship on main at the time (I'm still not, but now it's because I never post anything there and not out of any deliberate choice). So I created Twisted Thorn, with the intent of it being an alternate account for my "problematic" works.

Turns out I have a lot more fun writing incest smut then the stuff I used to write, so instead of being a side thing for hosting the occasional bit of porn and/or incest, Twisted Thorn became my main focus and I basically abandoned my previous wips in favor of solely writing Twisted Wonderland stuff.

#Seriously how do you always pick the hardest questions every fucking time?#i barely tag stuff here but i would like to be able find asks later

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ranhaitanisgf · 3 years

Note

Hello so glad to see you write for Shinichiro!! Could I have some headcanons of spending the day as Shinichiro’s s/o with Shinichiro, Mikey, and Emma? Maybe having a picnic or going to the mall together? Just some fluffy Sano family time!

spending a day with shinichiro sano (feat. emma & manjiro sano): headcanons

[𖤐] hii anon; thank you for requesting this!! it was so cute and fluffy to write i kinda melted a little bit when i was writing this aaaa, i hope you like it!! <333

❧ masterlist

✂︎ honestly, the day was supposed to be just a casual date with shinichiro; going to the mall and doing some window shopping and maybe buying a few things, then going to the food court to get some food before riding to the riverside to watch the sunset. nothing really out there, but just spending time with him was enough for you, so you didn’t really need any sort of fancy date.

✂︎ at least, that was the original plan. you weren’t sure how you had ended up taking emma and mikey along with the two of you, but frankly, you didn’t really mind. there’s probably a lot of other people who would have some...thoughts, if their boyfriend’s little siblings tagged along on their date, but emma and mikey were always such sweethearts, (to you at least) so you actually thought it was a nice change of pace.

✂︎ hm, well, now that you think about it, the both of them coming wasn’t really supposed to happen in the first place. it was pretty nice weather out, so you and shinichiro had decided to walk to the mall instead of taking his bike. the both of you had figured it would be a nice change of pace and that the fresh air would do both of you some good, but you two were so wrapped up in your conversation with each other that you didn’t even notice the steps following you two. it wasn’t until you were almost at the mall that you and shinichiro had realized emma and mikey had tagged along.

“what were you thinking of buying, (y/n)?��

“hm, i’m not really too sure yet, maybe some-”

“i can’t believe that didn’t see us the entire walk!! we’re just that stealthy, emma!”

“what the hell-”

✂︎ and just like that, your date was crashed by the two little kids who had followed you on your way to the mall. according to emma, the only reason she was here was because she was trying to stop mikey, but by the time she finally was able to pull him back, she didn’t know how to get back home, so she just decided to follow you. according to mikey, he had followed you two because...well, just because he wanted to.

✂︎ mikey’s response earned him a punch on the head from shinichiro, who started yelling about how he can’t just crash his date, ‘just because he wants to’.

✂︎ it was obvious from his body language that shinichiro was feeling pretty exasperated from all this, and you can’t really blame him. i mean, who would expect for their little brother to purposefully follow him while he goes on a date?

“sorry about this (y/n), i should’ve noticed they were following us sooner. if you don’t mind, i can run them back real quick while you go look at some shops, how’s that?”

“...hm, actually, if it doesn’t bother you, how about we just take them with us? i don’t really mind that they came along; i really like emma and mikey, and if we take them with us, then you don’t have to go all the way back. is that alright with you?”

“are you sure, (y/n)? mikey can be a little troublemaker sometimes-”

“hey, shut up!! am not!!”

“yes you are!!”

“i’m sure it’s fine, now both of you stop yelling at each other, people are staring!!”

✂︎ gonna be honest here, the two of you looked like a family when you walked into the mall. mikey was sitting on shinichiro’s shoulders while shinichiro kept a firm grip on his legs, and emma was holding your much bigger hand in her smaller one, looking around a bit curiously.

✂︎ as you all walk around, looking at the different shops, there’s going to be a lot of commentary about literally everything from mikey. he’s going to be commentating on everything he sees, whether it’s clothing or a food stand that he wants to go try, his commentary will just be endless.

“do girls really wear that sort of thing??”

“woah, that looks super cool!”

“can we get the dorayaki that’s over there, (y/n)-nii?!”

✂︎ you’ll probably start to notice emma’s longing glances at some of the things that she sees in the windows. she won’t really say anything about it, but you can tell that it’s something she wants, so you’ll go into a couple of the stores with her, asking what it is that she wants. she’ll definitely be surprised at first, but she’ll get really excited that you’re willing to get stuff for her and will show you the things that she thinks are pretty. she’ll probably start talking about how she wants to be able to wear all of the cute stuff she saw in some of the other windows someday, so you just ruffle her hair and tell her that when the time comes, you’ll definitely buy it for her.

✂︎ your actions don’t go unnoticed by shinichiro, so he’ll just be waiting for you outside the store with mikey, looking at you with a small smile on his face. he doesn’t know why, but whenever he sees you getting along with her and mikey, it just warms his heart and reminds him of how much he loves you and how much he wants to be with you for the rest of his life.

“stop staring at (y/n)-nii, it’s weird.”

“wha- i wasn’t-!”

“yes you were! i saw you!!”

“be quiet mikey, i’m trying to have my moment!”

✂︎ ah, well, he actually does know why his heart skips a beat whenever he sees you smiling and getting along with emma and mikey, but he’ll save that for later.

✂︎ when you and emma walk out of the store, the giddy smile on her face makes shinichiro smile down at her before turning his gaze to you, who was looking at her with a giant grin on your face as well.

“let’s go look at some more places?”

“definitely!!”

✂︎ emma is a lot more vocal from that point onward, pointing out all the different things in the shops that she thinks would look best on you. she actually has a pretty good fashion sense, so you ended up buying some of the stuff that she suggested.

✂︎ she’ll even have you try on all the clothing that she picked out for you so that you can show shinichiro, (she whispers to you it’s so that he’s struck with love when he sees you). her plan definitely worked though; when you came out of the dressing room in the clothes she had picked out for you, shinichiro was wordless for a few moments, so captivated by you that he doesn’t even know what it is he should say. he’ll probably stutter out some words after a few moments, the broken sentence resembling that of a compliment, but you’re not quite sure since it’s all pretty broken up.

“wow, uh, you look, uh...wow, you’re very...wow…”

“shinichiro-nii, can’t you think of anything else?! i thought you were supposed to be their boyfriend!! you’re making my plan fail!!”

✂︎ mikey will probably be more interested in going to the food court, and will be asking every five minutes when you guys can be finished with window shopping so that he can eat because he’s absolutely starving, (it’s a lie, he just wants dorayaki).

✂︎ you’ll probably tell shinichiro that he should probably get some new clothing as well, with emma chiming in that his taste in clothes is kinda boring and that he should spice up his wardrobe, (he feels very wounded by this and puts a hand to his heart as if he’s been fatally shot). with that, the four of you will start to look for new clothes for shinichiro. it’s quite the serious mission, so the three of you will be closely examining him whenever he steps outside of the dressing rooms. it’s also like you three are judges at a fashion show, and if you could, you would all be holding up numbers that were rating his outfits, (the employees are fairly amused by all of this).

✂︎ after you all finally find some new clothes for shinichiro, you’ll be making your final stop at the food court, the place mikey has been pestering you about going to for the entire time you were there. he immediately dragged you all over to the dorayaki place, eagerly asking if he could get one. really though, how could you say no to those eyes?

✂︎ after getting everyone something to eat, you’ll all be sitting down, emma and mikey chomping down and their food, and you and shinichiro resting your feet after all the walking you had just done.

“remind me to never bring you to the mall on a date again.”

“what, you didn’t have fun?”

“no! no, that’s not it, i just...my wallet feels lighter than before…”

“you’re so dramatic sometimes, i swear.”

“but you love me.”

“...yes.”

✂︎ by the time you all are done with your food and are exiting the mall, it’s dark out, and emma and mikey are barely able to keep their eyes open, meaning that for the walk home, you were carrying emma on your back and shinichiro was carrying mikey. the walk back was rather peaceful, but what you enjoyed the most was the whispered conversation you were keeping up with your boyfriend, who was complaining about how mikey was drooling on his neck and he could feel it dripping down to his shoulder.

✂︎ after putting both the kids in their respective bedrooms and tucking them in, the two of you just crash on shinichiro’s bed, tired from all the events that had happened that day. you really had to admit though, it was times like these that you would always remember the most. the way he looked like when he was beside you, his eyes already closed as he rested his head on your arm. god, he looked so pretty…

“hmm, what do you think you’re doing?”

“just fixing the hair of my beautiful boyfriend, that’s all.”

“i see...carry on then.”

✂︎ neither of you bothered to change out of your clothes into pajamas, just deciding to leave them on and stay in each other’s embrace. in your opinion, there was truly no better way to end a day than to have shinichiro on your arms, his head fixed into the crook of your shoulder as he peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw.

“love you so much (y/n)...”

“mhm, i love you too.”

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years

Text

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded! Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum.

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead.

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…”

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading, @thatsdarwinism, @satellitespidey

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stellalunatmblr · 2 years

Text

The Flower Path | Prologue

Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; slow burn, fluff (will update tags along the way)

Status: Ongoing

Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.

Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law

Word Count: 3.5k

Chapter Note: this is a fairly short chapter! but it took me so long to write ㅠ i figured it was okay because it was only the prologue. anyways, enjoy! also feedback would be highly appreciated.

also, everything i know about korean schools are from kdramas and mahwas, so in no way are they accurate. well, none of these are lol.

masterlist

You squint your eyes at the sun and brought your hand up to your face in an attempt to block the light that was straining your eyes.

"Here you go, young lady, this is the last of it." The man handed you a box from the moving truck before turning around to close the back of the truck. You muttered a small thanks and gave him a polite smile. You made your way inside the apartment building and into the elevators.

After earning an opportunity to be executive chef at a nearby town’s high-end restaurant, your dad convinced you to move nearer to his new job location, which meant you had to transfer schools as well. It wasn’t really a big deal for you. The old place carried too many good memories, which all the more made it painful to remember that things have never been the same since your mom passed away two years ago.

The elevator dinged and you made your way towards the unit at the end of the hallway, bowing to the movers that passed you by after they had dropped off your things in the new house you were hoping to eventually call home.

As you neared your unit, the old lady next door came out of her apartment holding a pot with a white-looking flower planted in it. You think you were being silly because the flower looked like it almost sparkled like glitter to you. You smiled politely and bowed lower than you did with the movers, wanting to make a good impression on your new neighbor. Maybe if she's the kind of old lady next door who bakes, and she likes you, you could persuade her into making you some treats.

She smiled back and made her way towards the elevators. You entered the open door into the foyer and placed the box down. You made your way further in and saw your dad’s back facing you, both his hands placed on his hips. When he heard your shoes’ shuffling noises, he turned around and smiled.

"We’re going to be unpacking for a while, huh?" He said this in a playful tone, and you laughed. "We had too much stuff to move," you replied.

Admittedly, you didn’t have to take everything from the old place into here, but both you and your dad are sentimental people, so you barely were able to sort through things that you wanted to give away or sell.

You stretched out your arms and shoulders before turning to your dad. You suggested, "We better get started then if we want to get this over soon," and both of you started working to unpack.

"Hey, sweetie?" your dad asked moments later while ripping away the tape from one of the boxes. You hummed in response.

"I know you said it was okay, but I'm really sorry for making us move when it’s your senior year. You knew it was going to be difficult to adjust, but you indulged me anyway." He said with an embarrassed, almost shy smile. It made you grin widely.

"Dad, don’t worry about it. I have a feeling we’re going to like it here." You smile and try to express in your eyes that you are being genuine.

It’s true, you are somehow looking forward to the change of scenery. Maybe you’ll find solace here that you couldn’t find in the old place. It just felt empty, like something was missing ever since two years ago.

You’ve unpacked about a quarter of the boxes you had, and the pile of folded up cardboard was growing higher near the foyer. This is good progress so far. You were cutting open a box of the things that were going to your room when you noticed a book placed on top of your hoodies.

"Dad? What’s this? I don’t remember ever owning or ever buying this book." You raised the book to your dad’s field of vision. He chuckles, "Your mom loved those types of books and would always say she’d gift her collection to you someday." He placed the glassware on the kitchen aisle. "I saw it in an old bookstore around here when I was hunting for apartments and bought it at a discount. I believe I put it on your desk at home, but now that I think about it, I'm guessing you never saw it."

His face shifted to a sad smile. "She wanted to influence you with her love of reading all the time, remember?" You nodded and shifted your gaze away from him and into the book. He walked towards the living room, saying, "Take it. She'd want you to have it."

You turned the book around and read the synopsis at the back, chuckling to yourself. It was from a teen web novel about high school friends and romantic clichés.

You relocate the box to your room, and you chuck the book on your empty dresser and go back to unpacking.

"Let’s order some jajangmyeon for lunch, dad!" You yelled from your room so he could hear you.

"That sounds fantastic, honey."

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

A few days later, after handing out rice cakes to your new neighbors, you decided to stop by the school you were transferring to. You saw a bunch of rowdy teenagers in the school court playing basketball, and you turned to the school guide who was giving you a tour. She doesn't seem happy to be tasked with showing you around. You’d even go as far as to assume she doesn't even like her job with the way she lazily said her words.

You sped up your steps to catch up with her, "So why’d you move for your senior year? What about your old friends? Didn't you think it was gonna be difficult for you? " For the first time since you met her, the guide, named Jang Nara, seemed genuinely curious.

"Just.. reasons. My dad got a new job opportunity, and we thought it was the right time to move."

She shrugs, not wanting to inquire more. You hummed awkwardly because everything went silent between you again.

After the tour, she hands you a brochure of the place where you can pick up your school uniform and guides you to get your photo taken for your ID.

“Welcome to Jeongsang.” She said in an almost robotic voice before you left

You sigh when you look back at the school building from the gate, not really looking forward to anything particularly this school year. You turn around and walk to the bus stop.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

You were looking for a certain pair of shorts you loved wearing at home after cleaning up in the kitchen when you stumbled upon the book again three weeks later.

Should I start reading it? Hmm.

You ended up plopping down on your bed and turning to the first page of the book, getting distracted and ending up not finding those shorts you were looking for.

Time seemed to pass by when you were reading, so you didn't notice that it's already dark outside. Throughout it, you didn't go without any snickers or cringing at all the lines the characters were saying. It was so cheesy and cliché, you're not going to lie, but you. just. couldn't. stop. reading. it.

You admit it's addicting. It gives you a sense of comfort knowing that you have an idea of what will happen next, that you don’t have to be uneasy with suspense. And you needed that, you think. You needed that sense of ease.

This truly is a novel, huh? You laugh as you read about the main character arguing with their academic rival, whom they secretly pine for. This was the type of stuff you were into, mom? You said it in your head and shook your head with a smile.

Your dad ended up barging into your room in the middle of the night to scold you because you have the high school opening ceremony the next day, muttering something about getting enough sleep or else you'll look like the undead. Gee, thanks dad. He hangs your clean school uniform in your closet, complete with white blouse, navy blue bowtie, and plain beige skirt, as well as the ID attached to the lanyard. You thank him and smile cheekily, "Let me just finish this, dad. Just one more chapter."

He shook his head, not believing you for a second but not being able to do anything about it anyway, and then he exited your room.

You ended up falling asleep in the middle of it, passing out with your hand and the book clutched to your chest.

The next morning, you woke up to someone shaking you by the shoulders. "Sweetie, you're gonna be late for school if you don't wake up now." You groaned in response and covered your face with your palms. He shook you again, but harder this time.

"Okay, alright, I’m up." You sat up and tried to wipe the sleepiness from your eyes.

You head to the bathroom to wash away the drowsiness and tiredness from your body. You walked toward your closet and opened it, only to be surprised at what you saw. You yell at your dad, "Dad! Did you take away my uniform?"

You hear some shuffling before your door opens. "What do you mean? It's hanging right there."

You scrunch your eyebrows and look back inside the closet. Hoodies, shirts, dresses... blazer? You didn't own a blazer. It was a navy blue blazer with silver lining around the notch. You took the hanger it was in and, to your surprise, you found your uniform tucked neatly inside it, only, the bowtie wasn't there. Instead, there was a striped maroon necktie.

"See? There you go.” You snapped your head to face him. "This isn't my uniform dad, we don't have blazers.” You said that flatly and took it off the hanger. Is this my dad's? No, it's in my size. You get even more confused.

"You sure do, sweetie. Look, just wear it and come outside for breakfast, yeah?" He said, before disappearing into the hallway.

You furrowed your eyes and tilted your head. This.. this isn't my uniform. I'm not wearing this! You pulled the ID off of it and looked. Your eyes became wide as saucers.

It said your full name and it had your picture, but instead of saying Jeongsang High School, it said Kkotgil High School.

What the fuck…

You hear the door open again, and your father has delivered your school shoes and what appear to be white knee-high socks. "Forgot these," he said quickly before disappearing again.

In a daze, you go about your morning routine and wear the uniform, blazer and all. Am I going crazy? Am I still asleep? Is this a dream?

You shook your head in disbelief and were about to exit your room when you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror.

Woah. You look like you just walked out of a comic book with what you were wearing. Is it just me or does my hair look fuller? And is my skin smoother now? You whistled. I wish I was like this outside of my dreams.

You paused as you realized something. Will they let me enter the school gates wearing this? School dress codes were strict, after all. You just sighed and decided to cross the bridge when you got there, maybe using your being a new student as an excuse.

You grab your bag and head out of the room. You paused again when you noticed something. Did the place just become.. bigger? And everything was much more organized than when you left it the night before! You absentmindedly step forward, not noticing a small table in your way, causing you to stumble upon it and lose your footing. You ended up hitting the floor.

"Ow!" you exclaimed. That hurt! You think you hear your dad yell and ask if you were okay.

What happened? Why did that hurt? You stood up quickly and held onto your side where you felt very real pain. "It hurts," you mumbled.

Your dad called you to the dining room again, and you snapped out of your reverie.

You power-walked to where he was and asked, "Dad, is this a dream?" As you placed both of your hands on his shoulders, his eyes widened before rolling them.

"Listen, I know you’ve been wanting me to make you some chicken and waffles for breakfast for a while now, but you don't have to go as far as to say you're dreaming now that I did." His answer baffled you. Breakfast with chicken and waffles is completely valid! But also, is this really not a dream?

You looked around the room again, but you were distracted when the front door buzzed. You heard someone call your name from the intercom, so you ran towards it. "C’mon, we're going to be late!" says a soft female voice. You slowly head to the front door and open it.

Your jaw slacked. In front of you was a girl your age with big eyes, full lips, long lashes and smooth pale skin, wearing the same outfit as you and.. Is that light brown hair? You thought the school had strict rules against dyeing your hair?

"What are you waiting for? We have to go now or we’ll miss the bus! " She tried to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"Who are you?" You whispered, but your eye caught the ID she was wearing. Choi Minyoung, it said. She looked confused for a second before stepping closer.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

No way! Nothing is okay! Everything was different, and you were so confused. Did you accidentally drink your dad’s expensive wine and now you’re drunk and hallucinating? Does being drunk even entail that?

You hear your dad step up behind you as he slips a lunch bag inside your backpack. "Here, if you can’t eat it for breakfast, then have it for lunch. I put in an extra, so share it with Minyoung, okay?" He said before zipping it back up and pushing you out the door.

Your dad knew her? Before you could say anything, the girl, Minyoung, pulled you to her side and headed towards the elevator. You think you spaced out too much that you didn’t even notice you were in front of the bus stop already. By that time, you were already catching your breath, not even realizing she made you run with her towards the bus stop. She saw the bus approaching and she tightened her hold on you even more. She pulled you towards the bus and made you sit next to her.

You turned to look at her face once you sat down. Wow, she's pretty. She looks like she could be an idol. You saw her blush a little before glancing at you.

"Are you okay?" she asked after calling out your name. Something seemed to snap out of you and your mind cleared. You hastily looked at the front of the bus. It's the right bus number, and it's going on the same route you remembered.

You heard the girl next to you ask again, and you turned to her. You panic slightly, not knowing what to say, so you settle for a quick nod.

She smiled, "I’m so glad we get to spend our senior year together. We’ve been best friends for years, and this is gonna be the first time! Oh, I do hope we are in the same class as well. " She rambled on with a big bright smile.

Best friend? You scrunched your brows at her in question, and when she saw it, hurt flashed in her eyes quickly before vanishing. You quickly changed your expression into a polite smile, having the sudden feeling of not wanting to see that look on her face again.

How exactly do I know her? You rack your brain for anything, but your mind goes blank. You can’t seem to think properly ever since this morning.

"Is this a prank?" you whispered softly, now wanting to offend her. And was your dad in on it too? Why was he acting strange as well?

She chuckled nervously. "Seriously, are you okay? You’re acting weird. " You just stared at her, not knowing what to say.

She sighed. "Look, I know we had a huge fight and we haven’t been hanging out as much since.. Anyway, I just thought you’d feel okay now that we talked things out yesterday." You almost thought you heard sad piano music in the background as she said it with a sad smile, her eyes glossy.

"I- uhm." you quickly think of what to do. Do I play along? Do I push her away? Your brain was running at a hundred miles per second. When the bus announced your stop, you let yourself be pulled away by Minyoung again.

She started walking towards a huge gate, but you pulled on her hand that was holding onto yours and it made her halt her steps.

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but I really don't know you. And this-" you pointed at the big bold letters on the pillar beside the gate that said Kkotgil High, "-isn't my school. I- I go to Jeongsang High School, you see?" Then, you felt a sharp pain in your temple, the stress of the strange events catching up with you. You were well aware that your ID said Kkotgil, but you have no idea how or why this happened overnight.

She opened her mouth to say something, but you pulled away. "I- I have to go." You turned around and walked away.

After a few moments of walking, you decide to whip your phone out and look up the address again for Jeongsang High. It should be around here or somewhere nearby. This is the right bus stop after all. To your surprise, the search portal said no results.

What the hell?

You checked if it was your data, or maybe it was an error on your phone but you kept getting the same result.

You took a step forward again before you felt someone grab your arm and pull you harshly to their chest. You let out an ugly squeal of surprise.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" You stared back in awe at the guy with mint green hair and cat-like eyes as he glared at you.

You realized just then that you were almost walking into traffic because you weren't paying proper attention to your surroundings. You felt tears prick your eyes from stress and you blinked quickly to try to get rid of them.

"Hey Yoongs! You didn't have to make her cry. It's not like she meant to walk into traffic. " You notice you're wearing the same style of uniform as them when you hear someone say beside him.

"You- do you guys perhaps go to Jeongsang High?" You asked with a hopeful gaze.

The guy beside the mint-haired boy, someone with red hair (seriously, what’s up with the hair colors?) gave you a heart-shaped smile,

"Jeongsang High? We’ve lived around here since forever and there’s no Jeongsang High in Seoul," He said, and you felt like your world crumpled apart.

What.. what do I do now?

"You’re wearing the same uniform as us! So you go to Kkotgil too, right? Are you new? " He asked, and you found yourself nodding absentmindedly. He held your hand and pulled you close.

"C’mon, we’ll take you there!" He said this in a rather cheerful tone and led you back to where Minyoung took you earlier. You noticed how other students you passed by kept glancing your way and suddenly you felt like it was not only you who found it odd that these high schoolers had colored hair. You were wrong of course, they stared with almost sparkling eyes because you had two good looking guys walking with you. But you didn't know that.

"I’m Hoseok, by the way," he introduced himself. "But you can call me Hobi. And Mr. Grumpy Pants there is Yoongi." He pointed to the mint-haired boy—Yoongi, who walked in front of you two.

He led you to the gate and into the long table where the teachers and staff were seated. He walked you towards someone you believe he knows.

"Miss Jang!" You were surprised to see a familiar face. She’s a teacher here? I thought she was a teaching assistant?

"Hoseok! You’re here to see what class you’re in? " She asked with a bright smile, which looked weird to you because this was the same person who looked like she was bored to death when she gave you a tour of the school.

You felt the boy beside you nod and pull you towards the class lists. "This is where the senior classes are listed. Let’s look for our names."

"How did you know I was a senior?" You questioned him, and he grinned before pointing at your tie.

"Your striped tie. Only seniors have striped ties." He replied, and you nodded in understanding.

You looked back down the lists and sure enough, your name was listed under Year 3 Class 4. You softly grazed the paper and felt its texture where it said your name. To your surprise, a few lines before yours was a familiar name. Choi Minyoung.

"Look! It seems like we’re in the same class! Yoongi too! " Hoseok, or Hobi, said but you didn’t process the information.

Your name really is there.

Fuck. Is this real? Is this really happening to you?

You almost felt like you could cry.

What in the world is going on?

#bts au #ot7 x reader #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #yoongi fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jhope fanfic #hoseok fanfic #oc reader #isekai #jimin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #alternate universe #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bangtan x oc

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saintshigaraki · 4 years

Text

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less.

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.)

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging.

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so, so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks.

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.”

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway?

You make your way towards the kitchen.

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep.

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs.

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage.

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot.

You were so happy then. So, so, happy.

What happened?

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else.

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life, the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face.

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a fuck about you anymore.

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row.

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough.

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world.

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now.

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin.

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days.

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it.

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it.

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month.

You’ll talk to him then.

You have to.

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly.

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets.

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed.

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises.

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything.

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while.

But he promised he’d stay home today.

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold.

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath.

And then you laugh.

You laugh so hard you nearly heave.

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed.

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are?

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less.

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now.

It’s time to move on.

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months.

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise.

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon.

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon.

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change.

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip.

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole.

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong.

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment.

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but.

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises.

His big ones too.

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way.

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake.

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years.

A teammate called.

I needed the extra practice.

There’s a skill I need to perfect.

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise.

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse.

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.”

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on.

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?”

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both.

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely.

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him.

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks.

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen.

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop.

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.”

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage.

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad.

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful.

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other?

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying.

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry.

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel.

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.”

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side.

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding.

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position.

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come.

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning.

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu angst #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #vicwrites #vicwriteshq

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