#i can’t keep working with people i need to move to the city where everyone hates each other n it’s all fend for yourself

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

[aaron-romave]

My Only Sunshine

It was a quiet night in Gotham, when suddenly the coms crackle to life, with a voice, that seemingly none of the bats recognized. That is all but one. Damians blood ran cold as he heard something that should not be possible. He had never even let himself think about it, because even recalling the mere memory of it would shatter him. 

The other night, dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you 

In my arms

Batman's voice was the first to come over the coms “oracle who is this? Where are they?”

“I’m working on it B.” She crackle back in her slightly mechanical disguised voice.

When I awoke, dear

I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried

Oracle may not have known where it was coming from, but he did. He knew it as he knew the heart beating in his chest and the air within his lungs. Without thinking he leapt off the building, grappling across the city that his father loved, but he has never thought of as his true home.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy 

When skies are gray

He was vaguely aware as Batman cried out for him, but that didn’t matter. His blood was rushing too quickly through his ears. Any protest or question simply ignored. He had somewhere he needed to be, and he needed to be there now. 

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take 

My sunshine away

“Oracle location!”

“I’m trying B! But these people are good I can’t work faster than I am!”

Was the last thing that came over the coms before he reached up and muted everyone, everyone but the voice he was focused on. The world had narrowed down to the wind whipping past him, his heartbeat in his ears and the one voice that he had wish to hear again for so long.

I'll always love you and make you happy 

And nothing else could come between

His lungs burned as Wayne industries came in to view. Why? Why of all nights was he on the outskirts of the city?  He needed to move faster, faster, please be fast enough. He begged to himself, to whatever god was out there be fast enough ….and for him to be there for this not to be some sort of cruel trick.

But if you leave me to love another 

I’ll support you as you follow your dreams

It was him. It had to be him. only he knew to sing it that way.  His brother quietly singing and holding him as he silently cried. He was never good enough for grandfather, he will never be good enough to be the heir to be excepted never daring, hopeing to be loved, but it was never like that with his brother. His brother loved him more than anything, and he couldn’t stop anything as grandfather ran his sword through the heart of the one person he truly loved. Through the heart of Damien’s one weakness. 

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy 

When skies are gray

Even at the end, when his brother knew grandfather was coming for him, his too kind brother never forced him. Always giving him a choice and he had failed his brother when he was willing to give up everything for someone as weak and pitiful as him. He wasn’t strong enough to run. He wasn’t strong enough to protect the one person who loved him above all else. 

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take 

My sunshine away

He was so close three minutes out. Almost there the highest spot in the city, the best place to see the stars. 

Northstar, I’m so happy you made it out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.

My Northstar please stop blaming yourself. This was my choice. It was always my choice and I don’t regret a second of it so neither should you. You are without a second of doubt the best thing to have ever happened to me. 

Damien felt a pit open up in his stomach.  Less than two minutes to Wayne enterprises

You have to let the others in Northstar. Being family to them, loving them it’s not replacing me or dishonoring me. Quite the opposite Northstar it’s keeping me alive; In a different way, but I’m still with you. 

Go on brother adventures with Dick, try things that make you uncomfortable, but know that he will keep you safe. 

Spend time with Babs in the library, read books that let you travel to fantastical worlds that we could never dream of.

Go to Jason for advice. You two are more alike than you even know, lean on each other, use that. 

Try photography with Tim. Take pictures of all those animals that you love.

Less than one minute

Pull pranks with Stephanie. Let yourself be a kid and laugh at stupid and dumb things. 

When things get too much go to Cass for quiet and understanding.

Go to Duke and ask him to take you out shopping at a regular store or to go to the mall to buy a toy for yourself. Enjoy the normal quiet moments.

Go to Bruce for comfort, he is Batman but he is also our dad don’t forget that, let him be a dad.  

The world went blurry. There is no one on the roof. 

Northstar I’m gone. I really am gone. You know how magic is Northstar your big brother had a few tricks up his sleeve, but I’m afraid this used the last of it. In the future in the far, far, far, future when you come join me in the hereafter, I’ll be waiting for you with open arms. I love you, Northstar now let our family love you in my stead. 

As his feet made contact with the roof of Wayne enterprises a small, glowing object made it self known in the center of the roof. It appeared that stars itself littered and sprung from the object, beckoning him forward. 

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the bats and birds joining him on the roof, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his shaking hand was reaching out to grab the old dog stuffed animal as the last glitters of Stardust left the plush.

A drop of water fell down and landed on the left ear of the love worn dog. Reaching up and touching below the domino he realize that he was crying. When did that happen? When was the last time this happened?

As he clutched the dog plush to his chest, a frivolity that would have never been allowed in the league, but still his brother who he loved most in this world snuck it in for him. Hiding it behind a loose stone in the wall. Bringing it out for him to hold as his big brother comforted him and told him stories of a better life that they could have. 

The demons heir, Robin, Damien sobbed, cried for the injustice of the world, for his brother who even waiting for him in the hereafter was still looking out for him. 

His body shook as wave after wave of agony and despair ripped through him. Years of repressed grief tore through his body sharper and with more deadly aim than any blade. The floodgates had been opened. His big brother had given him this one last gift. 

So when Batman, his father, his dad crouched down in front of him concern showing through his usual stoic expression he does not ignore what his brother has given him and leaps forward, clutching onto his dad and weeping for the brother that he lost and the son his dad will never get to know.

( inspired by this)

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

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

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

W/c: 14.2k

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

Previous part ~ Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's a secret"

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

Rich people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, except for Noodle.

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

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

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

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

Noodle's purr goes a little louder. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

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

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

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

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

He breathes, deep and heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go back to sleep pup."

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

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

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

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

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

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

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

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

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

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

As close as you can be but still not enough.

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

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But He pulls you right back to him.

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

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

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

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

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

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

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

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

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

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

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

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

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

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

It doesn’t hurt at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's just love, that's it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did they say anything?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what if they need aftercare?”

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

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

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

"I'm sorry."

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

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

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

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

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

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

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

Hobi just wants to get it right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But everything can wait.

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

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

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

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

“Oh Hobi”

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

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

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it will go like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you should be, together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Running.

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

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

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

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

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

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

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Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

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

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

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

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

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

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

[leth-writes]

Twilight wolves x reader who has to leave for college? :>

I love this idea!

Sam

The two of you have known each other for years at this point. You were there when he first shifted, and when he imprinted, you felt like the entire world was right, at least for that moment. Sam shifted in his senior year of high school, so your relationship has been going strong for at least a year at this point.

Sam had never been academically focused; he was always more of a handyman, so he had planned to go to trade school, maybe in Port Angeles. Shifting had really destroyed that dream, as he had to stay near the reservation to lead the pack and make sure any of the new wolves were able to handle themselves. His entire world revolved around the pack, around the reservation, and around you, but he just didn’t have any time to study. His grades dropped, and he barely went to class. Especially when more and more teens are shifting, he’s needed elsewhere to keep the peace.

You’ve always had higher ambitions. You wanted to leave the dreary environment of Forks for a big city, dreaming of the sparkling lights and opportunities. You wanted the sun and the soft turquoise waves of somewhere warm and pleasant, not the constant rain of Forks.

Sam wants you to go to college. He wants you to get an education and achieve your dreams. It would be hell for him, but he’d do anything for you. Luckily, when you met him, your priorities shifted. Suddenly, with the long walks in the woods with him shifted, the runs and the soft cuddles, you began to appreciate the luscious, vibrant green around you. You began to see the beauty in the soft, muted colors of La Push, the dark, deep swirling waves, the gravel crunching under your feet. You couldn’t picture leaving his side any more than he could picture leaving yours.

Sam doesn’t want you to give up on your dreams. He wants you to get out there, to experience life to the fullest. He begs you not to give up, and to apply for university, to get the education you’ve been working for your whole life.

So, you apply to various Universities and Colleges in Seattle. It’s a four hour drive from campus, where you’re staying, to Forks.

The two of you alternate; one weekend he drives up to see you and spends the night at your dorm, the next weekend you drive down to stay at the reservation and meet up with the pack and your lifelong friends.

It’s hard, not being able to see you, but he knows you’re living life to the fullest, and he’s so proud of you.

Every time the two of you meet, he sweeps you into an all-encompassing hug. It’s like the world is right again.

Constant calls and messages. You two talk for hours every night, making sure to regale each-other with the intricacies of your day even when nothing exciting happened.

He brags to everyone and anyone about how smart you are, how proud he is.

Paul

Paul is more protective. He doesn’t want you moving where he can’t follow. While he’d love to move with you, he can’t; he needs to stay close to the others, to patrol and to protect the town and the people he loves. But even the thought of you being so far away is killing him. He has no clue what to do.

When you first mention moving away for University or College, I’m not going to lie, the two of you get into a massive argument. Paul is convinced you’re leaving him, that you’re going to go date someone normal, that you can’t handle the ‘freak of nature’ anymore. Please reassure him this isn’t true, he can’t handle thinking you hate him.

Really, it all stems from the same source of protectiveness that fuels his every action toward you.

Once you convince him that no, you aren’t moving so you can date a non-shifter and yes, you do love him, his anger eases up a bit and exposes that underlying anxiety driving his behavior, that fear of not being heard that forces him to be extra loud and in everyones’ faces.

Understanding his behavior is key. You need to know he isn’t acting out, he isn’t angry, because he can be, he’s angry because it’s the only way he knows how to express his anxiety. Paul has spent his entire life being written off for who he is, and only that anger and that passion ensures he’s heard.

Tell him you understand his position, but that you can’t budge on seeking an education. Tell him how important it is, how it feels like you’re trapped in Forks, how you need an opportunity to see the world before settling down.

He’ll understand. Hell, he’s in Leah’s head, he’s felt the same sense of being trapped and the longing to experience everything she’s felt for her whole life.

Still, the thought of being too far away kills you, so you set your heart on Seattle. He gets a job working as a mechanic and starts really saving. Every penny goes toward his master plan.

You’re living in the dorms and he’s driving you down to Forks as often as he can. He doesn’t really love the city, but he’ll put up with it for you

That first year is rough. Paul is naturally quite passionate, so not being able to wrap you up in a hug, not being able to fall asleep to your foreheads pressed together, to sleepy kisses with your eyes closed and your soft snoring, it’s hell for him.

So, a year into your degree, he rents an apartment for the two of you to stay in together. It’s just temporary, after you finish your education he fully plans on moving back in to his old house and working at the shared garage the pack manages, but it’s the easiest way to be close to you. On the weekends you two drive down together to see the pack and to be close by, especially so he can patrol, but Sam understands how hard it is for Paul to be apart from you. Besides, the anxiety was driving him crazy, and subsequently driving the whole pack crazy through their bonds.

The apartment is small, and kinda dingy, but it’s perfect for the two of you. He once again gets a job as a mechanic in Seattle, working to make sure you can enjoy your education, and the two of you are inseparable. He loves driving you to campus and goes to every party and every event with you.

Jacob

Jacob encourages you to go to college right away. Just because he never got the chance doesn’t mean he doesn’t want that for you. Besides, he’d do anything for you, including putting up with a bit of distance and a long drive.

Unlike the others, Jacob always drives up to see you, never the other way around. He isn’t as connected to the pack as the others.

Jacob wished he could’ve gotten the opportunity to go to trade school, but finances and the shifting and then everything with vampires made life too complicated and he couldn’t go.

He’s living vicariously through you.

Loves going to parties with you on campus, though can definitely get into a fight if another guy comes too close and definitely ends up punching someone who thought groping you was appropriate

Jacob isn’t as clingy as the others, preferring to give you a bit of space. This is leftover from his time spent resisting the bond. A bit of him feels guilty he put the both of you in such pain, so he’s definitely a bit more willing to put in so much effort.

Loves when you send him pictures right before class; he gets to see how adorable you look with your hair mussed and your comfy clothes. Especially loves it if you wear glasses, you look so cozy.

A part of Jacob still feels insecure; it’s part of why he’s so willing to put some distance between the two of you. He’s avoiding those massive emotions that come along with the bond, repressing them deep down.

Somewhere along your third year he just… breaks. It’s hard for him to deal with the wave after wave after wave of longing, but he manages. Please convince him how much you care about him, he can be deeply insecure.

Overall supportive, but please help him figure out how he feels before he snaps himself in half over his suppressed emotions 🙁

Let me know if anyone wants more!

[its-time-to-write]

I’ve always had this idea that reader is like, one of the fittest people that work at AFC Richmond, like she can hold herself in a fight. Maybe she does boxing and the team shows up to support as a surprise and they’re all like DAMN. And a certain Manchester man goes googoo over her and ALSJDISPDODJKLL I feel like in my mind it’s an idea with lots of potential behind for any character matchup and scenarios but yeah that’s it (ps I love your writing it brings me so much joy!!)

got it! thanks @coloursofyen for a) the ideas and b) keeping me on track with these last few fics.

I rage-wrote this fic bc I accidentally saw the Man City score before I had a chance to watch it. I’m very upset rn😂 Also, I know nothing about boxing.

move fast and keep quiet

Ted’s been on this thing recently, where one day of training out of every five is a “physical and mental enrichment day,” which is a fancy way of saying the team does yoga or some shit together. Recently he’s been bringing in this boxing coach for “the team’s aggressive tendencies,” in wake of the whole West Ham debacle, and no one’s quite sure if that was really the best response to the situation. Teaching AFC Richmond how to fight better? Maybe not the best idea. 

You’ve been coming once a week for a month now, teaching them how to spar on the pitch. Isaac, Jamie, and Bumbercatch are definitely the most enthusiastic about it, with the way Isaac studies each punch, Bumbercatch practices the footwork, and Jamie asks a million fucking questions every single time. 

According to Sam, he’s been an absolute menace, practicing his moves through the halls of Nelson Road.

“What is your problem?” Jan asks one day. “Can you not just walk to the gym like a regular person?”

Jamie shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

It isn’t long before word goes around the dogtrack that Jamie has a crush on the boxing instructor.

“You like her,” Dani singsongs. Jamie doesn’t deny it. 

“She’s mad fit. Even her smile,” Jamie defends.

He’s not exactly wrong. The team starts an unofficial countdown until their next training session, and are disappointed to walk into the regular setup when the day rolls around. There’s a whiteboard with a new play from Roy and Beard, and the whole team barely tries to hide their disappointment.

“Oi, where’s Jamie’s girlfriend?” Isaac asks the moment Ted walks in.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie interjects.

Ted points to Jamie. “We’ll unpack that later. For now, I need you fellas to get ready to run this new play Coach Beard and Roy have cooked up. I want everyone ready to show a lotta teamwork.”

Richard raises his hand. “Coach, where is Jamie’s girlfriend?”

Jamie puts his head in his hands and says, “She ain’t my girlfriend, lad,” but it doesn’t matter. The name is going to stick.

Ted says, “She’s busy training for a match tomorrow, but she’ll be back next week. She told me to tell you all that she hopes you can come watch.”

Sam loudly whispers, “You mean she hopes Jamie will come watch,” and the rest of the team says oooh.

“Fuck off,” Jamie replies, but he’s blushing.

—

They end up commandeering the team bus. 

The fight is… well, let’s just say it’s convinced Jamie that he needs to make the “girlfriend” jokes a reality. He will never admit how smitten you make him, what with the way you’re dodging and weaving, wiping sweat from your brow as your braids fly. But when it’s all over and you’re announced the winner, he’s almost positive you can hear him cheering over the rest of the crown because he’s just so damn happy.

The team waits around while the rest of the arena clears out, but Jamie can’t wait. He slips away from the group and asks a security guard where he can find you. The guard looks at him and states, “You’re Jamie Tartt.”

“Yeah,” Jamie responds, unsure of what else to say because it wasn’t exactly a question.

“She said you could come back. Follow me,” grunts the guard. Jamie turns around to make eye contact with Sam before hurrying after the security guard.

“In here.” The guard points to a door then leaves Jamie alone, staring at your name printed on a metal plaque. Shit, how good must you be to have your name here?

He knocks once and hears you call, “Come in,” so he pushes the door open. You’re sitting on the floor downing a bottle of water, still sweaty. There’s a bit of blood dried to your forehead and Jamie is a little worried that he finds it sexy.

You smile at him and pat the floor next to you.

“I’d get up, but I’m really fucking tired,” you say. “She got me good.”

Jamie slides onto the floor next to you. “You were fuckin’ amazing,” he says. “Made me rethink my whole career.”

You wheeze out a laugh. “With the way you run your mouth? You’d get brained in a week. I make sure none of my partners hate me. Me ’n the girl you saw tonight are going out to lunch tomorrow.”

Oh. That’s new information for Jamie. He’s trying to figure out if you mean lunch as a friend thing, or if you’re going on a date. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Oi, what’s your deal? Upset you’re stuck as a sad little footballer when you could be getting punched out on the daily like me?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah. Just thinking how cool it were tonight.”

You grin and take another swig of water. “Hey, you wanna take me out on a date?”

Jamie chokes on air. After a moment he manages to cough, “Sorry, what?” and you shrug.

“Told myself if you came back here after the match I’d ask you out. I let security know you could come back if you wanted, and I figured you might be kinda fucking interested if you tried to get back here without me inviting you.”

“Uh huh,” Jamie says, still trying to get his breath back.

You look at him sideways. “Is that a yes? It’s all good if not.”

“No, yes!” Jamie says. “It’s yes. Where do you want to go? When’re you available? We could do something tonight if you want.”

You make a face. “I’m absolutely knackered. I was planning on going home to take a nice long shower and then passing out.”

Jamie nods. Right. Sounds logical.

“You could join me,” you suggest, and Jamie chokes for the second time.

“Jesus, Tartt, you’re excitable,” you tease. “It’s just a shower and some sleep. Although I might be convinced that I didn’t get enough cardio in tonight. Depends on if you’re willing to drive me home so I can nap.”

“Done,” Jamie says immediately. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

You grin as he pulls you up off the floor. “Oh,” you say, studying his perfect lips, “one more thing before we go…”

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is Aura for @nebulousdaughterofchaos

“No more, Padawan.”

Moving slow, breathing with care, Cal stands and meets his master’s gaze. “I’m okay,” he says, hoping he won’t throw up as he speaks. “I can carry on.”

He’s trembling and he doesn’t know why, cold despite the summer heat, dripping with sweat. Emotions buzz around his head, a cloud of flies eager to choke him. None of them belong to him, and yet they stick around and upset/enrage/amuse/scare him anyway.

“No.” Master Tapal crouches down despite the muddy ground. “You have witnessed enough of the past. We know what happened here. You need not endure more.”

He can! He must. “Master, I – ”

“No, Cal. Enough.”

Shoulders slumping, Cal clenches his jaw to hold in the tears. So that’s it. He’s not good enough. He’s letting everyone down – Master Tapal, the clones, the people who once lived in this cratered city. If he can’t find out where the Separatists took the planet’s rulers, what use is he at all? He’s a Jedi; it is his duty to carry on. All around, the smouldering wreckage sings to him, a howling chorus desperate for release.

He’s the only one who can hear it, see it, do anything about it. If that means watching people dying, so be it. They’re… they’re one with the Force now, right? That’s how it works? It’s okay. He can do this.

Except his eyes aren’t behaving like they should. They’re a little blurry, and he thinks maybe there’s a speck of dust stuck in one of them. It fizzes and pops, a silent lightning storm for one. A thick, cresting wave of nausea washes over him and taking a slow, deep breath does little to stop it.

Master Tapal looks at him, concerned. “You are unwell,” he says.

Cal’s hands curl into fists. “I’m fine!” He turns, ready to march away, only he can’t see. He can’t see out of one eye, and that’s messing everything up, because he’s crashed into a shattered wall and –

Master Tapal’s hand wraps gently around his shoulder. “No, Cal. You are in pain. A migraine. You have worked hard today, honoured the people who lived here. We will return to base, and you will get some rest.”

Rest? Cal shakes his head (bad idea). He doesn’t need to rest; he needs to help. “I’m okay, Master.” He holds himself tall (which is tiny, compared to Master Tapal). “I am a Jedi. I can find the right echo.”

The Force squiggles and squirms around his master. Cal waits for the inevitable.

“Alright,” Master Tapal says instead. “Focus. Try to find an echo of that carries a sense of duty. A ruler may feel fear, yes, but they will also carry the weight of their people.”

“Like you do for all the clones?” Cal asks, fingers pressed to his temples.

“Just so,” Master Tapal says.

“Okay.” Cal stares down the street, even though he can only see one side of it.

“Your eyes can deceive you,” Master Tapal reminds him.

Maybe that’s why one of them is so fuzzy right now – it’s lying to him. Never mind. He closes them, does his best to ignore the whirling lightning coiling in the darkness. He needs to let the Force guide him to the right echo, the echo of a leader, one that will carry fear but push it away with their sense of duty. The Force takes him out of his own pain and leads him on, over rubble until there, on the ground, a discarded datapad. Meeting notes. He crouches down, touches it.

The droids lead the whole assembly out of their chambers. “Where are you taking us?” she demands.

“That information is not relevant,” the large B1 intones.

“It is very relevant to me and the other senators,” she says. “What good is keeping it secret? There is no one for us to tell.”

“Your logic is sound,” the droid says. “We are taking you to our processing plant on the northern continent. We will wait there until a ship arrives to transport you to your next destination.”

Cal launches out of the memory. Hands grip him, and he’s glad, because his eyes are lying worse than ever with their swirling, flashing lights. “Master! I know where they are! The northern continent. They have a processing plant there. I – ” Pain stabs into his skull. He catches his forehead in his hands. “We should hurry.”

“I will, I promise,” Master Tapal says. “But you are going back to the outpost where you will see a medic for this migraine. Failure to do so will lead to disciplinary action, am I clear?”

Sighing, because maybe he is a tiny bit relieved he won’t have to go any further, Cal nods. His head hurts so much even his hair is tender. “Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Master Tapal leads him away. “You have done well, Padawan. Very well.”

It’s hours later when Master Tapal returns from the northern continent, the planetary leadership with him. Cal’s head hurts a lot less now (Leafy gave him the good meds), and he’s happy to see the echo paid off.

And people used to tell him psychometry made him a bad, useless Jedi.

Master Tapal rests a hand on his shoulder. “You have done well, Cal.”

[felassan]

BioWare have announced that Dragon Age: Dreadwolf has hit its Alpha Milestone, a huge step forward in the game's development [source].

A blog post by BioWare General Manager Gary McKay reads:

Game Update

A New Milestone for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf

Moving closer and closer to completion. Hello,

In my last blog, back in February, I talked about the next Dragon Age™game entering the production phase. Well, we’ve come a very long way since then, and the team is incredibly happy to announce a huge step forward in the development of the game you now know as Dragon Age: Dreadwolf™: We have just completed our Alpha milestone!

Up to this point, we’ve been working hard on the various parts of the game, but it’s not until the Alpha milestone that a game all comes together. Now, for the first time, we can experience the entire game, from the opening scenes of the first mission to the very end. We can see, hear, feel, and play everything as a cohesive experience.

NOW WHAT?

Of course, the game is not finished by any means, but Alpha is one of the most important game development milestones for a number of reasons. First and foremost, we can now turn our sights toward bringing the visual fidelity to its final form and iterating on gameplay features. The big question now is, “Where do we focus our efforts?” To answer that, we solicit feedback from a number of sources, including our Community Council members who each have unique perspectives and experiences, our quality verification team, and extensive internal playtesting. Gathering feedback from multiple sources gives us the greatest insight on where we need to spend more time improving the experience.

Additionally, we can now evaluate the game's pacing, how relationships evolve over time, and the player’s progression, as well as narrative cohesion—essentially how the story comes together. We can take the story we’ve written and see if we’re expressing it well through the characters, dialogue, cinematics, and ultimately, the player’s journey. Now that we have the ability to do a complete playthrough, we can iterate and polish on the things that matter most to our fans.

Hitting Alpha was the culmination of so much effort from the entire team and we used this milestone as an opportunity to come together and celebrate. We held a hybrid-style event with people onsite while others joined remotely and the team showcased their work to everyone at BioWare. We even took some time to do something fun and non-work related—a virtual escape room where we had to work together to help someone on camera find their way out. It was a really great time, and no matter where our devs are, it's important to share these types of moments together.

START TO FINISH

Now that we’re finally able to experience the entire game, for me, my favorite part is the characters. Whether followers, allies, or villains, they’re woven into the game in ways that take a concept that’s always been a part of the Dragon Age DNA—stories about people—and push it further than ever before. The characters help contextualize the world and the stakes, and I can’t wait until we’re able to start really discussing them in depth.

It’s also exciting to finally be able to bring our fans to parts of the world that we’ve previously hinted at, but never been able to fully explore—like the city of Minrathous, the capital of the Tevinter Empire. We’ve talked about Minrathous in previous games, and now you’ll finally be able to visit! It’s a city built on and fuelled by magic, and the ways in which that has come through in its visual identity, and what that looks like in comparison to previous cities we’ve visited in Dragon Age, are pretty spectacular.

As I mentioned earlier, the Alpha milestone is an extremely important one for us, but there’s more work to be done. We also want to continue being transparent with you, our community, and keep you up to date on what we’re crafting. Hopefully you’ve been enjoying our development updates on Dreadwolf this year as we’ll be looking to share more in the future.

IN CLOSING

Of course, Dreadwolf isn’t the only thing happening here at BioWare™! We have a team hard at work envisioning what the future holds for a new single-player Mass Effect™ game. And we look forward to celebrating our community on N7 Day next month. The SWTOR team also continues to work on their next update, so keep an eye on SWTOR.com and their social media accounts for any and all details on the coming game update.

It’s an incredible time at BioWare! We have so many cool things to show you in the future. Until then, thanks for being part of our community. We couldn’t do this without you.

Stay well,

Gary McKay

General Manager [source]

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter 3 of down the rabbit hole

Chapter one here , two here , four here

MDNI

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/warnings? IDK: Will just keep mature okay. Minors get out. Heavy mention of alcohol, blackouts, drunken shenanigans, hints at SA, awkwardness,

Slow build like novel damn length okay, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

WARNING I do not have this all written out, I do have it plotted out, but it may be a little slower for chapters to come out. Please bear with me. If you know a Beta to edit please send them to me.

Thank you all for the support! This gets cute and flirty. Let me know what you think. ***

The bar is a hole-in-the-wall place, with the fifteen or so crew and four actors the place is packed. It’s laid out with a bar at the front, couches, and comfortable chairs in the back. You find a spot closer to the back, a gin and tonic in hand. Trevor is talking with Decon at the front, the two men are practically making out. You chuckle and sip your drink. Rebecca from Costumes sits beside you, the woman is all fluid grace. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” She smiles and sips her drink, short hair with sides buzzed, various botanical tattoos draping down her shoulder. Piercing brown eyes and a soft face that always had a small smile. She was draped in all black, which was of course fitted perfectly. 

“It’s going pretty good, nice to get out after a long week.” You reply, watching people mill around the place. You knew almost everyone here, aside from a couple of the extras. Most folks were chatting and drinks were flowing. 

“Oh man, it sure has. I am happy they stuck me in the studio for the next week.” 

“I will take the studio over driving any day. The city is atrocious to get around on a good day. Add in construction I would rather take the studio regularly.” You reply, having lived here for close to a decade and there was never not construction. You weren’t even sure what the construction was for anymore. 

The two of you chit-chat for a while, going over different projects. Discussing a little about the union politics and the fact that the industry was saturated because of the fifteen film schools. It’s nice, even welcomed. You’re now on your third drink and the world is getting a little tipsy. Rebecca has moved over, and Neal from props is talking to you. He was discussing some builds he was looking at doing for a Sci-fi show coming up at the end of the year. You listened intently, you had always loved props and had considered moving to that department at some point. 

The night carries on, you are buzzed now. The realization that you are going to need to get an Uber is at the front of your mind. You make your way to the bar in sesrch for some much needed water. When you look over to see Trevor grinning and moving towards you. 

“Hey sweety,” He says, words tripping over each other. The man was also as drunk as you are. “Me and Decon are gonna probably share an Uber to his place. Do you want to catch a ride with us?’

His eyes are bright if a little fuzzy, Decon is staring at him with hunger in his face. You can’t blame the man Trevor was fine as hell. If he wasn’t gay as a unicorn, you’d be tempted. 

“Umm, I am pretty sure that you both live at the other end of town from me,” You are surprised you can actually remember where Trevor lives, much less that Decon was in the same area.

“Oh. Well,” His face screwed up like he was trying to solve world hunger and not how to get home. 

Walton emerges from the groups of people, his face is slightly flushed, but out of all of them, he is probably the least inebriated. He takes in the three of you, you can see the wheels turning. 

“What is going on, if you’re arranging a three-way I will have to excuse myself, I hate being a fourth wheel,” The man chuckles at his own joke, Decon looks slightly confused looking between all of you. 

You let out a small snort, “No, just figuring out rides home. I live in the opposite direction of these two.” You gesture to the two men who are heavily leaning against each other. 

“Nonsense, I will make sure you get home safely,” Walton says looking at both of them. “You two lovebirds go and have a wild night. I will make sure the lady will get home.”

“You sure Mr.Goggins,” Decon asks, he is a good head shorter than Trevor but built thicker with shaggy blonde hair.

“Walton,” He smiles, “Definitely, she will be taken care of.”

“The lady also agrees,” You sigh, leaning slightly against the older man. You can feel how warm he is, it’s hard not to rest against him

“Okay,” Trevor chuckles, “Have fun, don’t do anything I would do. Or. You know do.”  

You watch Trevor and Decon stumble out of the bar. Part of you is jealous that they had someone to go home to. You relax and going to find yourself a spot on the couch. A moment later Walton slid in beside you. You’re happy your face is already flushed from the alcohol as his thighs touch yours. 

“Hey,” He says in a hushed tone, sipping of what smells faintly of scotch. He hands you a glass of water which you greatly appreciate. 

“Hey,” You reply, meeting his gaze. “How are you fairing?”

He smiles and looks around the room, “Honestly, I am kind of over it.”  

You giggle looking around at the same time. A few people had left, some people lingered in groups, and a few had divided into pairs. The mood has chilled out a little, the music dropped down a few notches. It’s comfortable and cozy, but that might be liquor. 

“It could be worse, we could have to work tomorrow.” You look back at him. The man was now staring at you as if every word you said was important. You fail to hold his gaze, damn liquor was making you melt.

“Mmm but at least I’d get to hang out with you,” He said with a crooked smile gracing his lips. You were pretty positive the man new the effect he had on you. 

“Oh stop,” You giggle, shaking your head and taking another sip of water.  “I know you enjoy the days off as much as any of us.”

“Suppose I do, it doesn't change the fact I like getting to spend time with you.” The Southern slipping in, making you almost choke on your drink. 

You roll your eyes but relax beside him, part of you just wants to lean against his chest and let the alcohol relax your inhibitions. You both talk about traveling, you had spent a few months traveling around the Philippines, Taiwan, and Korea. He talked about being in Japan, and China. Sharing info on some of the favorite foods you had a chance to eat, and how you both looked forward to traveling again in the future. You decide in haze to have a few more drinks, as the two of you continue to chat about the future. 

When the bartender calls closing you go to stand and the whole world spins around. You nearly fall over but someone grabs you before it all goes dark. 

***

Light is peering around the blinds, and you groan at the splitting headache and nausea filling your already foggy brain. Reaching around you find the side table, a bottle of Tylenol, and a glass of water. You take two tablets and bury yourself under the covers, falling into a restless sleep. 

There is more light now, and though your headache is marginally better you still feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. Blinking a few times you realize you’re not in your room. This room is fairly close to the size of the apartment you live in. The walls are basic contractor beige with generic artwork. There is a closet, two side tables, a darkened bathroom, and a chair near the end of the bed where you can see your jacket and purse sitting on it. Your phone is on the side table, plugged in, beside you along with a powerade and glass of water. Swinging yourself out of bed you are grateful to see you are still dressed, sans shoes, socks, and your jacket. Your clothes are uncomfortable but not as if they had been taken off and put back on. You straighten yourself a bit, rubbing your aching forehead. You grab the water and drink most of it. It makes your stomach lurch and for a moment you briefly wonder if the water is going to come back up. 

Settled, you quietly walk over to the attached bathroom. You don’t bother turning on the light, already knowing that you look like hell. You grab a face towel and wash what was left of last night's eyeliner and mascara off.  Making sure to clean the towel well so that it doesn’t stain. You take out your braids and rub at your sore scalp. Giving yourself a moment on the toilet before washing up and rubbing more cold water on your face. You feel a little more human than when you walk back to the room. That cold stone of anxiety rolls around and you try and push it away. Whoever had brought you here hadn’t done anything. You were currently safe and could catch an Uber home. 

Gathering up your things and the bottle of Powerade you slowly open the door. There is the faint sound of music coming from down the hallway. You tiptoe down the way hoping to see a front door to slip out of. At the end of the hallway, the place opened up into a kitchen/living room area. A man was standing in the kitchen singing the song that was playing. The door out was across from the kitchen.  

It wasn’t just any man, it was Walton. Hair fluffed up, wearing a pair of christmas pjs, and white cotton top. Singing and dancing around the kitchen. You freeze and wonder if you should go back into the bedroom and throw yourself out the window. Maybe there would be a fire escape, or maybe you’d just let yourself be swallowed up by the pavement instead of facing him. Letting out a small breath you push yourself into the light of the day, feeling completely at a loss. You weren’t going to be able to sneak out, might as well get the awkwardness over with. 

“Umm. Hey,” You squeak, placing your things onto a chair at the small dining table. 

Walton jumps and turns back to you, his glasses nearly falling off his face,a brief moment of fear is erased by a big smile. “Hey! You’re up. Sorry, did I wake you?” Pushing up his glasses with the back of his wrist. 

You shake your head taking a small sip out of your bottle. The smell of bacon and pancakes makes your stomach growl. How you could be both be hungry and hungover should be studied by scientists.

“No, I am usually up early.”  You give a weake smile. It was true, even on your days off you were usually up between seven and eight. 

“I made breakfast?” He looks so out of place and nervous, pointing to a couple of plates. His usual charisma was replaced with jittery energy. Then again you’d probably be nervous too if one of your drunk co-workers slept at your house.

“That sounds amazing.” You say grabbing both full plates and taking them over to the table. You have no idea what the hell you’re doing, all you wanted to do was leave. At the same time, you were not going to turn him down. The thought of him being disappointed was worse than the awkwardness of staying. 

He slips into the seat beside you handing you a fork and knife, placing some maple syrup on the table. Getting up, again, to grab two mugs and the pot of coffee, he whirls around the place grabbing some cream and sugar too. 

“Thank you, umm for breakfast,” You say, not really sure how to feel about the whole situation. You had very hazy memory about the rest of your evening at the bar. Most of it was just blank. “How did I end up here?”

Walton’s face falls as he looks at you, “Oh, shit. I should have told you. Probably don’t remember coming here.”

You nod your head, suppressing a smile at how flustered he is.

“I tried to bring you home, but you won’t give me your address or wallet. Kept saying you weren’t bringing home ‘no random man’. Kept trying to convince me to just put you in a cab .” 

You laugh at that. “Of course I did.”

“Trevor wasn’t answering so we brought you here. Ahh- I promise nothing happened. I just took off your shoes cause they looked uncomfortable. Plus socks in bed always feel weird.” The jumble of words spilled out as he looked at you for reassurance. 

Your hand finds itself resting on top of his wrist. “Thank you, I appreciate you not leaving me at the bar.” It was kind of him, most people would have just dropped you into a cab and be done with it. But of course, Walton would make sure everyone got home safe, the man was gentleman. 

Walton looks shocked at the last statement. His hand slips up and takes yours. It feels weirdly natural, his larger hand engulfing yours as he rubs his thumb of your fingers absentmindly.

“Oh no. I would never leave you- at a random spot.” He says quickly adding the last bit as his cheeks go slightly pink. You briefly wonder why he would be so flustered, you wouldn’t have blamed him for just letting you take a cab. 

“You're a good man and the food smells amazing.” You smile back, squeezing his hand slightly. It felt so easy just to sit here at the table holding hands. 

Both of you dig into the food, and despite still feeling hungover the food hits the spot. Walton explained as best he could the rest of the night.  You had apparently also hit Leonard, his driver when the man had held your waist trying to help you into the vehicle.

“I will make sure to apologize to him on Monday.” You make a face. “Probably a good reason for me not to go out so much.”

Walton looks taken aback by this, “Leo will be more than fine. I can guarantee he has dealt with the worst. Plus besides that, you were very much welcome company.” 

“Still though.” You shake your head. You grab his plate and stack it before bringing it to the sink. 

The habit of putting things into the dishwasher is in full effect. You help him clean up, and it all feels much too easy. You take a sip of water, the headache still lingers and all you really want is a shower and some sleep. Silently you scold yourself for letting the night get away from you. You had never been a bigger drinker to begin with, and letting yourself get black-out drunk was not exactly something you wanted on your resume. 

“Thank you for- umm- looking after me. I should really get going.” You say feeling flustered, thinking about the fact that you’d love to just crawl into bed with him. Let him tell you stories of his travels as you drift off to sleep. Maybe you could both have a shower and then-

“Can I drive you home?” Walton wakes you from your daydream. “If you are comfortable with me knowing where you live-”

You blink a few times, trying to get your brains to string a few words together. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me.”

He shrugs, “It’s really not a big deal. I promise” 

Your resolve crumbles, what were you supposed to do to disappoint him and say no? No there was not disappointing this sweet man. You’d do near anything just to see him smile. 

***

Walton drives you home, you’re surprised he drives something as utilitarian as a Toyota  4runner. At the same time, who are you to judge, you have been driving the same Honda Accord for almost a decade. You both chat about the city, Walton seems enamored with the mountains, so close to the sea, and tons of places to explore. You talk about your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and Walton recommends a few decent bars. The chatter is easy, it’s always been easy you realize. The pace and flow were as if you had been talking to him for years ike you were old friends. 

“That’s me,” You say with a weak smile, the idea of having to go home wasn’t as appealing. Your tiny little studio apartment, with its leaky windows and smoke-smelling hallways. At the same time, you know you can’t stay in the vehicle all weekend. 

“So it is,” Walton says, he looks almost as disappointed as you do. “What time should I pick up Monday?”

Taken aback by the question you look at him with your mouth open.

“Your car is still at the studio.” He replies that little mischievous glint in his eye. You wonder if this was his plan all along. 

“Oh. Dang-it. It’s alright I will catch a bus.” You say, trying not to be dismissive but also not wanting to bother him. Realistically he probably had better things to do then pick you up. 

“No. I insist. I was the one that invited you to the bar.”  Walton states a small smile growing as he watches you. You realize that you aren’t going to be able to say no to him, and at the same time, you don’t want to either. 

“I will be outside around 6 am if that works?”

His smile widens, making your heart do little backflips, “Sounds good, I will see you then.”

Chapter four

*This was so much fun to write. I am excited to see where things go next! As always likes comments reblogs are greatly appreciated .*

[funemployed-fangirl]

Modern Bridgerton AU

Benedict & Sophie

Benedict does the “good second son thing” and goes to Yale (where his dad went), gets his MBA, and goes to work at the family company to help his brother. But it’s not really what he wants to be doing. And even though he’s miserable at the company, he sticks with it to support his brother. He starts to develop a painting hobby, though no one in the family knows.

Sophie has a rough background, having been through the not-so-great parts of the foster care system. Once she graduates high school, she works her ass off to put herself through college, mostly working as a nanny for rich New York families. Once she graduates, she gets a job as a live-in nanny for one of those families. It’s not what she wants to be doing, but this is New York City and taking care of rich people’s kids is good money, especially when your other expenses are practically zero.

After a couple years, she runs into Colin Bridgerton in her employer’s building (it happens to be the same building where the Featheringtons live, and Colin is heading in to see his college bestie Penelope while on break), and he invites her to a party that’s happening that night. While at that party, she meets Benedict. They spend the entire night together in a quiet corner of the party, but she ends up leaving abruptly after spotting someone who will know who she is.

A couple of years later, Sophie is now a household manager for a new family. When heading home one night she gets accosted by a couple of drunk frat bros, only for Benedict to step in and help escort her home. They recognize each other from the party two years prior, and perhaps despite better judgement, start seeing each other. 

Benedict has never been much of a relationship guy, so keeps insisting/acting like this thing with Sophie is a casual hook-up situation. But casual hook-up situations rarely include midnight rooftop dinners, or private gallery showings, or meeting members of the family (look, the man is clearly head over heels in love, and not being particularly subtle about it). Finally, Sophie puts her foot down and tells him to get his head out of his ass or they're over. Benedict panics, insists he’s only looking for something casual, and they break up.

He makes the mistake of telling his family about the break-up. His mother is devastated. Daphne and Kate are pissed when they find out about the break-up. Hyacinth is inconsolable. Everyone loves Sophie, and they’re not going to let Benedict make a stupid mistake like break-up with the woman he is clearly in love with. It’s at this point Benedict gets a call from Sophie - she’s been arrested, and “I didn’t know who else to call. I need your help.”

Her employers are going through a nasty divorce and can’t afford to keep her on, so they decide to fire her. But in the shuffle, something goes missing from their apartment and Sophie gets arrested for theft. Benedict comes to her rescue, bailing her out of jail and reminding everyone that “My sister-in-law is a lawyer!”. Turns out, whatever was “stolen” has actually just been misplaced in the shuffle of moving the husband’s stuff out of the apartment.

Benedict promptly leaves the family business (though he maintains his seat on the board and almost always shows up for board meetings), and he and Sophie move to some adorable small town in Connecticut, where Benedict takes up painting full-time (turns out he’s pretty good) and Sophie runs a small art gallery. They’re just far enough away from the city that the family doesn’t visit too often (“You’re like 2 hours away. We have to drive!”), but the nieces and nephews LOVE going for long weekends at Aunt Sophie and Uncle Benedict’s house. They have a pool!

more (x)

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Betrayal (II)~

Zhongli (Morax) x Reader (Angst) Pt II Hello, my lovely readers! I’m going to keep this short, but basically, it's been a good while since you have seen Morax. During this time, you have learned how to improve yourself by fighting other creatures from harming other towns, specifically smaller ones. You noticed a pattern between all of the animals you have fought so far, however. They all had similar features, which you will see. You currently are on another mission to stop one of these types of animals but get an unexpected visit. 

I grunted as I plunged my sword deep into the shadowy animal, twisting it to ensure that the monster did not make it out alive. It whimpered with high pitched noises as it wriggled around, trying to bite me. I looked at its deep, smokey red eyes as they started to fade to a deep black. The smoke that surrounded its body began to dissipate as well, showing that it was quickly dying. 

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew that there had been a sudden uprise in these types of creatures. 

It had been almost a year and a half since you had spoken to Morax, and during that time, you worked on making yourself stronger and more powerful. You have managed to save many people and small towns and cities from these creatures. But the weird thing about them was that they all had the same red, mystical eyes with a black smokey figure. But no matter what, they were hurting others, and that was something you wanted to stop.

“You can’t hurt anyone else any longer.” You spoke, lifting your sword up and out of the wolf's body and wiping its blood on your elbow guard.

Once the creature went limp, you knew it was over. The wolf that kept harming others was now gone and would no longer impact their lives ever again. 

You placed your hand on the animal, causing flowers and grass to grow over it, hiding it away. You then turned on your heel and went to go see the small town to tell them the good news. About a week ago, you received a note from an anonymous person, begging you to help their poor town from a killer beast that continuously destroyed their farms and killed some of their people. You weren’t sure how they found out where you were, especially because you always help others anonymously, but nevertheless, you couldn’t stay back and let some creature hurt others.

And it was a good thing they reached out to you. Once you had gotten to the town, it was totally run down. Everyone was severely injured by the animal, and many were dead as well. Their crops had been completely destroyed and their water supply was damaged. 

You remembered a little girl running up to you, thanking you for coming. She told you she was the one who sent the message and that she knew you were strong enough to help. She had asked for other Archons to come help, but she either got rejected or just simply ignored. You were a blessing to her, and she definitely tried to prove that to you. She continuously tried to give you gifts such as food, the small amounts of money she could collect, or even her small amount of toys. You of course denied all of them, telling her that you appreciated it, but you didn’t need anything in return. 

Once you had found out the terrors these poor people had faced, you knew you needed to help them. And so, you tracked down this monster and made a plan to stop it once and for all.

Now, we are back to you going back to the small town to tell them that they no longer have to live in fear.

However, before you could get to them, you felt a sharp pain in your chest, making your eyes widen. Your breath hitched as you felt the blade in your chest twist and pull out. A foot kicked you down to the ground, the sand beneath you absorbing the red liquid. 

You felt a hand on your hair, pulling your head up. The person's head got close to your ear, whispering something to you.

“Hello again, Y/n…”

The voice sounded so familiar, and once you moved your head, you got a better view.

“Guizhong?! What are you-Why are you doing this? How did you find me?” You asked

“Oh, Y/n. I’ve always known where you were this whole time. I’ve been watching you. That’s how that little girl was able to send you that note. I told her about you so that she could send you something you could never turn down. A chance to prove your worthiness. I knew you would come here, which made it the perfect moment for me to strike and end it all.” She explained

She placed her heel in the wound in your chest, making you cry out in pain.

“Now, Morax will be all mine. Once he finds out you are no longer with us, he’ll fall for me and we will be together once and for all.” She spoke. 

Suddenly, the wolf that you had killed before appeared right by her.

“Y-you…you made that?”

“Oh, you mean Milan? Why, yes I did. And I did it all for you, Y/n.”

“M-me?”

“It’s how I found you. I created these creatures out of nothing but dust. They were my eyes, my scavengers. I had to make sure you didn’t come anywhere near Morax. So I made these creatures to keep you busy. Honestly, you should be thanking me. Because of me, you became stronger….but apparently not strong enough for me. How sad.” She spoke.

“You…monster! How could you hurt all those people just because of me?!” You yelled, trying to get up. She took a sword and plunged it back into you, this time going for your Achilles tendon, making it impossible for you to get up. You screamed loudly, feeling the blood gush out of your lower leg. She grabbed some of your armor you were wearing, your sword, and cut off a strand of your hair, all of which were bloody.

“Sorry it had to be this way, Y/n. But hey, I’ll be sure to name one of our kids after you. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She asked, slowly walking away, leaving the beast behind to finish you off.

“You…” You started, seeing your vision blur.

“You…psycho…bitch…” You mumbled, slowly falling into the darkness.

Just before you closed your eyes however, the last thing you saw was a pair of small shoes walking towards you and another bigger pair right before you blacked out.

—

It had been so long since Morax had seen you. He was on the brink of insanity, if not, already hit insanity. He hates himself for sending you away. He can’t think about anything else now, all he can think about is you and your eyes when he told you he would choose Guizhong over you. He can’t get your broken voice out of his mind either, constantly hearing your cries in his ears.

He tries to hide it from everyone else, but every now and then, someone will try to talk to him only to be ignored because he is far too worried about you.

What’s worse is that no one has heard from you still. He was already worried something bad had happened to you, but now, he was starting to think the worst of the worst.

He sat on his bed, his hands running through his hair as he woke up to a new day. He looked outside his window, watching the sun slowly rise. Suddenly, a flashback hit him

–flashback–

“Oh come on, Morax! You’ll love it, I promise!” You begged the Geo archon who was currently sleeping in. 

He pushed your hand away, groaning in response

The two of you had just finished helping a few people create a shelter for protection, and needless to say, you both were whipped. But the end result of the building turned out amazing. And even though the people wanted to pay you back in some way, Morax just wanted to sleep and so he didn’t bother with the payment. He took you with him and you both found a nice hill far away from any other human being. It was quiet and had the most beautiful view of the sky and the horizon. 

You both had looked at the stars together, slowly falling asleep with each other.

However, you were woken up by a small little guinea pig licking your nose. You had sat up and saw that the sun was just about to rise, so you tried to get Morax to wake up. And we are now back to Morax trying to ignore you for sleep.

You shook his body violently, pleading him to wake up.

When he still wasn’t responding to you, you crossed your arms in frustration. However, you knew what would get him up.

You quickly stood up and began to walk downhill.

“Welp, since you’re going to be a sleepy head all morning, I guess I’ll just go watch the sunrise myself.”

His hand quickly wrapped around your wrist before you could even start to move, catching you off guard. You knew he would respond eventually, but not that quickly.

“Y/n, if you make me get up and it’s something boring, I swear I am going to kick your ass.” He said, making you smile

You quickly sat back down, grabbing his hands to pull him up.

“Great! And trust me, you are going to love it!” You said to him, looking at him with sparkles and joy in your eyes. Just seeing you look at him like that made his heart jump. No one has ever looked at him like that before.

“Now, just sit back and relax. The show is just about to start!” 

“Show?”

You nodded as you pointed to the sun, Morax’s eyes quickly following. Suddenly, the sun rose just above the horizon. A variety of colors in the sky were created, beautifully blending in with each other. The animals began to run around, and the sounds of the birds began to sing. 

“Watch this.” You said, placing your hand down onto the ground. 

Once you did, the flowers all around you began to open up, showing the gorgeous designs on the insides. Little small white flowers also began to grow, popping up out of the ground to surround you two in a circle.

Morax stared at it all in awe, enjoying the beautiful scenery unfolding in front of his eyes. He especially paid close attention to you, however. Seeing the suns’ rays hit all the right spots on you, allowing your body to give off a bright glow. He saw how happy you looked as you helped open the flowers and create new ones to help add to the scene. Your wonderful smile and sparkling eyes set his mind wild. 

You looked so adorable and beautiful at the same time. He fell deeply in love with you all over again. Just seeing how happy you were with something so simple was cute to him

“Don’t look at me, silly. Look at what’s in front of you!” You teased, feeling your face heat up a bit. A red hue slowly made its way to his face as he got caught staring. 

He stared at the sunrise for a while, genuinely enjoying the soft sounds and vibrant colors surrounding him. But he mostly paid attention to how comfortable he felt around you. You were so easy to talk to and he never felt nervous around you. You made him feel normal.

“Hey.” He started, catching your attention.

“We should do this every day.” He said, making your eyes light up

“Really? Oh, I would love that, Morax! Especially because it’s always so different every morning!” You said

“I agree. I think it would be a great time to spend together.” He said, making you smile. You nodded after

“Okay, from now on, we will wake up early every morning just to see the sunrise. Then afterwards, if we are still tired, we can go right back to sleep.” You said, making him chuckle.

“Deal.” He said, scooting closer to you.

You two then continued to watch the view, enjoying the time you two spent together. 

–End of Flashback–

Morax glared at the window, getting up to his feet to shut the blinds. He wouldn’t be able to watch the sunrise without you, which has also been killing him. 

He got dressed and made some tea to wake him up.

Morax then sat down, trying to think of something, anything else other than you. For the beginning part, it worked. He focused on his abilities, moving rocks from here to there.

But not too long after, you came to his mind as he lifted a big boulder, remembering the last day he saw you.

The day he found you trying to help a simple flower get the proper things it needed. The day he had to move a gigantic rock for you just to make you happy. 

Oh how he would do anything to go back to that day, just to see your smile. You were so happy when he did that. 

But on that same day, the day he helped you, he also hurt you. And that was what he couldn’t escape.

He sat back down, letting the boulder drop. He sighed, tears filling his eyes as he remembered that day like it was yesterday.

Many people knew he was struggling. He tried to show he was just fine on the outside, but in reality, on the inside, he was dying.

He misses your laugh. He misses your stupid jokes. He misses your eyes. Your touch. Your scent. Everything. He misses everything about you. 

“Morax, there you are!” He heard a familiar voice

“Please, Guizhong. Not today.” He said with a broken voice.

“I’m sorry, Morax…but it's very important.” She said

“It can wait.” He said in a grumpy voice.

He started to get up and leave, but what Guizhong said next made him come to a stop

“Y/n is dead.” She said

Morax quickly turned to her with widened and hurt eyes, tears on the verge of slipping out.

“W-What?” He asked, seeing if he heard her right.

“Y/n…she’s dead.” 

With those three words, Morax felt his heart completely shatter. He felt as if a part of him had just died in that moment as he slowly fell to the ground.

“H-How? How do you know??” He asked. Guizhong then pulled out a bag full of your stuff, all covered in blood

“A few soldiers came to me with it, saying they found her dead body in the middle of nowhere.”

Morax looked at all of the items, seeing some of your armor, some hair, and your sword. 

He held it close to him, realizing it was the last thing he had left of you. Tears began to fall down his face as he realized you were gone. Just like that. After all these months of searching, you were finally gone.

He slowly became angry as he realized what happened

“Did they find out who did it?” He asked

Guizhong shook her head

“Then I will. I will find out who ended her life and make sure they regret their entire life choices!” He began, his voice booming throughout the area. His eyes started to glow as his blood began to boil.

Memories ran through his head of you laughing, of you talking to him, of you hugging him, of your smile. The more the memories came, the more his anger rose.

All he could see was red. 

Suddenly, Guizhong ran up to him and hugged him, bringing him back to reality.

“I know you are hurting, Morax. And I can assure you that we will find this person together. We will put an end to them. But for now, let's get you relaxed. She wouldn’t want you to run on a rampage like this.” Guizhong said. Morax looked at her with pained eyes for a bit, hesitating. But she was right. You wouldn’t want him to go tear down places just to find someone. But that's what he wants to do. He won’t hesitate to demolish every little thing here if it meant finding who dared to harm you. Who dared to take away what made him happy. 

But no matter what, this was about you. Not him. So, after a few minutes, he finally began to cool down.

“I guess you are right” he said, his voice calming down, tears beginning to form once again. His heart was completely broken now that he found out about your death.

Guizhong helped him up and helped get him into bed. Little did he know that this was her plan all along.

–back with you–

Your eyes slowly opened, your mind feeling woozy.

There was a bright light that took over your entire vision, making you try to blink it away.

You groaned, trying to move.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Try not to move too much. You were severely injured and one simple movement could result in a wound reopening up.” A male voice said. 

After clearing your vision up, you looked over to see a man about your age talking to you. He was a bit taller than you and had dark brown hair and eyes. His skin was fair and he wore what looked to be armor all over him.

“Wh-Where am I?’ You spoke groggily.

“You are back in Xantharville. The small town you helped.” He spoke.

“How…did you find me?” You asked

“This little girl said she heard screaming and asked me to help her find where it came from. We followed the sound and eventually found you on the ground, about to get eaten up by that wolf that has been tormenting us. But don’t worry. I stopped it for now.” He said.

“Little girl?” You asked

“Hi, miss Y/n! Are you feeling better? You looked horrible when we first found you.” The little girl who contacted you said. Your eyes widened as you realized who she was

“Wh-What on Earth were you thinking?? You could’ve gotten seriously injured!” You said, making the girl look down

“I…I got scared that you were hurt. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” She said

“Didn’t you think to tell your parents?” You said, making her look down with a frown. The man who was checking your wounds looked you in the eyes, shaking his head.

You looked back at the girl, regret hitting you like a bus. 

“Airi, why don’t you go in the back and play with Asuka. I’m sure he needs someone to play with.” The man said. She nodded silently, turning around and exiting the room

You palmed your face.

“I’m such a bitch.” You said, guilt filling you up.

“Ah, you’re not. You didn’t know. She will get over it relatively quickly, so don’t feel bad about it. Besides, once she is done playing with Asuka, she will forget the whole thing ever happened.” He said

“Asuka?”

“My little brother. She and he have been friends ever since they were just babies. They are like two peas in a pod.”

“Isn’t it three peas in a pod?” You asked with a chuckle, making him smile

He continued to work on your wounds, helping recover some of them.

“So, who are you?” You asked, watching him gently place the bandages over your body.

“The names Kai Sakamura at your service. And you are?” he asked, tightening the bandage, making you wince.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n, huh? I like it!” He said with a smile, placing his arm over you to fix another bandage. You looked at his arm and saw that there was a bloodied bandage around it as well.

“What…happened?” You asked, making him look to where you were looking

“Oh, this? I got it from when I was fighting that wolf. Those damn things never know when to stop.” He said, going back to what he was doing.

“Those wolves…there are more of them?” You asked, seeing him nod

“Yeah. I saw three of them just a few miles away from this town not too long ago. Almost took my life going up against them. I don’t know what made them act like this, nor do I know where they came from. But it sure as hell has been tough getting rid of them.” He said

“Those animals…those things…they're not natural.”

“You can say that again. Especially their eyes. I’ve never seen something like that before.” “They…yeah. Me neither.” You said, stopping yourself from continuing onto this conversation. You still weren’t sure if you could trust him. Or anyone in this town. It was one you hadn’t ever heard of, but then again it was a very small one, so that could be why. You only knew of the bigger places.

“So…what were you doing all the way out there? Don’t tell me you were going to fight that thing by yourself.” “I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of defending myself.” “Hey, I never said you weren’t. I was just…shocked to see a beautiful girl such as yourself all the way out there in the face of danger.” He said, making you roll your eyes.

“Well, I am the archon of Nature…so I would sure hope I can save myself.” You said, making the man's eyes widen

“Holy shit! You’re the Y/n L/n! I-I’m so sorry! I should have known. Please forgive me-” “Oh, save it. I’m still a simple human, archon or not. Just treat me as you would any other regular human being. Please. I don’t like to be treated differently just because of my position.” You said, making him nod

“O-Of course. Sorry.” He said, getting up.

“Well, I am done with fixing up your wounds.”

“Great. Now I can be on my way-” “No. You aren’t allowed to move until those wounds completely heal.” He said, making your mouth open wide

“What?! How long will that take?”

“Well, from how deep the cuts were, I’d say about 3-4 weeks.”

“2-3? That’s too long! I have to go stop Guiz-I mean…I have important Archon things to do?” You said questioningly.

Kai just stared at you with a deadpan face, not buying your lie one bit.

“Well I can tell you aren’t the archon of deception.”

“Shut up. Look, all I can say is that I have a very important thing to do that I can’t talk about right now and if I don’t get it done soon, there could be dire consequences.”

“Well then it looks like you’ll have to try and heal up faster then because as your medic, I cannot and will not let you go until you are fully healed.” he said, walking away

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to check on the kids. Now, get some sleep. You’re gonna need it.” He said before closing the curtain that blocked you from the rest of the area.

You looked up at the ceiling, huffing at how unbelievable this was.

You need to stop Guizhong.

Even if it meant you had to see…him again. You couldn’t let her lies get away.

You needed to stop her. Not just for you, but for the rest of everyone else and their safety.

__________________________________________

[curtis-corner]

STAND BY ME (Darry Curtis) - PART 5

Fic Masterlist HERE

This took a bit longer than I wanted, but I hope it's worth the wait! We're setting the scene a bit for future chapters. Thanks to everyone who shares this story and comments! Things are going to heat up!

Part 5

Dating Darry Curtis was like something out of a dream. You were so happy you almost felt like your mouth would permanently stay in a smile. You missed him like crazy when you weren’t with him, and when you were with him the two of you were inseparable.

If he wasn’t holding your hand, he had his arm around your shoulder. While you both didn’t do anything more than an innocent kiss on the cheek in public, when you were alone it was a whole different story.

Which is where you found yourself now: straddling his lap in the driver’s seat of his truck, parked way out on the outskirts of the city. Your hands are in his thick hair and you felt like you had been kissing him for hours. He had been running his hands up and down your stocking-clad thigh, stopping just shy of your skirt that was practically around your waist.

He shifted you, you moved back and landed right on the horn, sending a loud honk through the deserted area and starling you both.

“What the hell,” Darry said, his voice scratchy. You start to giggle, you can’t help it. “I guess I need to be getting you home soon anyway.” You rest your forehead head against his.

“Mm, do I have to go home?”

“Believe me baby, if I could spend the rest of the night right here, I would.” A thrill runs through you.

“I like that. Baby.” You clarify and his lifts his lips to yours for a kiss that’s over long before you want it to be. You climb off his lap, trying not to look too foolish as you move to the passenger seat. When you get settled, Darry reaches his hand across the seat and holds yours. He drives with his left hand, maneuvering the truck easily back to the east side and you wonder if it’ll always feel like this.

--

Mr. Murphy had started Murphy’s general store with his late wife back in 1924. You had never met Mrs. Murphy – she died over ten years ago, and his only son died in the second world war, so the store was pretty much all he had. He was a kind and fair boss, but he took a bit to come around to more modern convivences.

“I’m just sayin’, that’s the third person this month to ask about puttin’ their bill on a credit card.” Sheila says and Mr. Murphy waves her off.

“If people can’t buy it with the cash they got, they shouldn’t be buying it.” It was a long-standing argument that you tried not to get in the middle of. Mr. Murphy was in the store today to review and place the weekly order, and he had you help him look everything over.

“The laundromat downtown said they are getting a credit card machine next year.”

“They’re just saying that, ain’t no one is going to ever put their laundry on a dang credit card.”

“With prices all going up, a credit card will be the only option.” Sheila warns and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at the expression on Mr. Murphy’s face. Sheila and Mr. Murphy didn’t often work at the same time, but when they did you were always entertained.

“We need three cases of dish soap, not two,” you point to his sheet and he erases the number two and writes a three. The door jingles and Darry walks in, brushing some snow out of his hair.

“Well, look at what we have here!” Mr. Murphy exclaims, and you feel a blush rising. Mr. Murphy took far too much delight into you dating Darry.

“He’s a good boy, you should say yes when he proposes.”

“We’ve been dating TWO weeks!”

“I proposed to my wife after two weeks. Ain’t no use in waiting, you’re just wasting time.”

“Mr. Murphy,” Darry shakes his hand. He turns to you and smiles. “Hi there.”

“Hi yourself. You’re off early today?”

“Snow is making it too slippery to be on the roofs.” You glance out the front window to see the flurries from lunchtime have turned into a true snow. “I’m on my way to pick up Ponyboy from school, but I figured I’d duck in and say hello.”

“You remind me of me at your age, could never miss an opportunity to see my girl. Five minutes with her had me smiling all day,” Mr. Murphy’s eyes are bright behind his glasses and you have the sudden urge to fight back tears. You shared a soft smile with Darry and saw Sheila rolling her eyes up at the register. You guess not everyone was a romantic.

“What are you working on?” Darry asks, glancing down at the papers spread across the countertop.

“Weekly order.” Mr. Murphy says. “Your brother alone is the reason for more legal pads.” Darry and you share a smile. You both had nearly the same conversation the other day while you helped him make chicken pot pie.

“I don’t doubt it. Just hope he ain’t the reason for all the extra beer too,” Darry points at the list and Mr. Murphy lets out laugh and turns to you.

“You just talk all day about how handsome he is, you never mentioned how funny he is!” Your blush is back at Mr. Murphy’s antics.

“Is that so?” Darry is well aware he’s teasing you, but he can’t resist.

“Don’t you have a kid brother to collect?” You say, putting a hand on your hip.

“I suppose I do. And I’ll come pick you up after you after your shift too.” He gives you your favorite grin, the one that really shows off his dimples and heads out after saying goodbye to everyone, even Sheila.

“That boy looks at you like you’re Christmas morning.” Mr. Murphy says, still slightly teasing but his tone is softer.

“He’s pretty swell,” you smile, watching Darry wave one last time before his truck heads out.

“You’re pretty swell too.” Mr. Murphy pats your hand twice, then returns to the order.

The warm feeling that had settled in you the past few weeks grows a little stronger.

--

When you get home, a man you’ve never seen is at your kitchen table, and your mother’s small collection of jewelry is spread out in front of him.

Your father introduces him as a jeweler from downtown, but the man doesn’t look too much older than you and is dressed in a leather jacket and jeans instead of a suit and tie you’d expect from a professional.

“That brooch was Grammy Sue’s,” you point to a brooch in the shape of a swan. As a child you were fascinated with it, always asking your grandmother if you could feel it. She had promised you that you could have it one day.

“And she’s dead, so now it’s not.” Your father spat out and you physically recoiled. You had never heard such venom in his voice. “Go find that old bracelet of your mother’s, she said those were genuine pearls.”

You feel your stomach drop, you loved that bracelet. You wore it whenever you got dressed up, it was a beautiful and delicate bracelet your mother had received from her aunt when she was younger. You knew exactly where it was – in the top drawer of your vanity. But you blurt out:

“I lost it.”

“You what?” Your father stands up from his chair and your stomach tightened again. He had never been physical with you before, but he had also never been so desperate for gambling money that he sold off jewelry before.

“I-I lost it. At Easter mass last year.” You hope he doesn’t remember how you wore it for your first date with Darry only a few weeks ago. He doesn’t seem to: instead he spends a good few minutes yelling at you before banishing you to your room.

You have tears in your eyes as you take the bracelet from it’s hiding spot and put it in the shoebox at the back of your closet with your California money. You tried not to spend your life waiting for ‘someday’ but you couldn’t help but wish for the day when you were out of this house. When the person who greeted you when you walked in the door wasn’t passed out drunk or scrambling for money.

You wanted a house full of love, with the radio on and people laughing and singing along to the best songs. With something good cooking in the kitchen and cookies in the jar. And someone to greet you and always be happy to see you.

You know it’s too soon to be thinking these thoughts and picturing Darry in every one of them, but you let yourself have a few moments to think about what it could be like.

--

Talking to Darry on the phone each night was one of your favorite things. Whether it was a few minutes to say goodnight, or an hour when you talk about all sorts of things, his low, deep voice would soothe you.

You listen to him talk about Soda and Steve’s run in at the diner with two other greasers, and about Ponyboy’s trouble with styling his shorter hair.

“You alright baby?” He asks and you realize he must have asked you a question that you never responded to.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. I’m alright…” You trail off, not knowing how to begin.

“You know you can tell me about it. Whatever is bothering you, I mean.” And even though you can’t see him, you can perfectly picture the look on his face. And you know you can trust him with this.

“When I got off my shift there was a man at the house. My dad was selling my mama’s old jewelry that she had left. I guess it’s just not sitting right with me. The guy seemed…strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Like he certainly wasn’t from any reputable jewelry store. And my dad got so angry when I told him I didn’t have my mama’s old pearl bracelet.” You sigh. “Even though…I do have it. I don’t try to make a habit of lying, but I just saw all her things, some of the only things we got left from her, on the table and ready to be gone for good and I….I just couldn’t let him sell that too.”

“I think that’s okay.” Darry says softly. “It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I spent all night feeling bad about it. Maybe he could have used the extra money instead of me holding on to an old bracelet from a woman who probably ain’t ever coming back.” You let out a breath and twist the phone cord around your index finger. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have to listen to all this, it’s silly.”

“It ain’t silly.” Darry says firmly. “If something upsets you, I wanna hear about it.” You smile.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You say softly and you know at the other end of the phone Darry is smiling. He always does when you use a term of endearment with him.

“He didn’t do anything to hurt you right? Your dad?”

“No, he just yelled. I stayed in my room and he left not long after the other man did.”

“You know my front door is always open. Doesn’t matter the time.” He’s told you this before, he never likes dropping you off at an empty house. And you think for a split second about your daydream of a warm home that was full of love.

“I know.” You say quietly and you take a deep breath, wanting to steer the conversation away from your troubles. “Alright, tell me more about how we’re going to get Pony’s hair to grow faster.”

NEXT UP: Darry's birthday and a tough anniversary for the curtis boys

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part six

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetz1919

Masterlist

It had been a long night, everyone still alive within the camp working to clear the bodies lying around. You wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead, leaning down and stabbing one of your former camp members in the head. Dale had been kind enough to offer you a spare knife earlier, to replace the one you’d lost.

You grabbed ahold of the woman’s hands, dragging her towards where the rest of the bodies were being left. This was the first time you’d really been around so much death; for that, you almost felt lucky. Almost.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump.

“Sorry,” Rick spoke. “We need to talk.”

“I’m kind of busy.”

“It’s important.” Rick responded. “Back in the city, that wasn’t like you.”

You looked at your brother. “What wasn’t like me?”

“Threatening that kid.”

“I was just trying to get things done.” You responded. “He needed to know we weren’t playing games.”

“I think Daryl showed him that.” Rick spoke. “I don’t want you to become cold. To see everyone as an enemy.”

“Everyone who isn’t us, is a potential enemy. They attacked us first, they could’ve killed us.” You let out a sigh. “Do you really think I wanted to hurt him? Of course not. I just wanted to keep our people safe.”

Rick stared at you for a moment. “I just worry about you. What this world might do to you.”

“I’m not your baby sister anymore. You don’t have to worry about me all the time. I promise, I’m fine.”

You glanced over at the RV, noticing several people gathered around it, whispering and looking at Andrea. She was still holding Amy, not having moved from that spot all night.

“We should go check on them.” You mumbled, walking away.

You and Rick arrived at the RV, Rick looking over at Andrea. “She still won’t move?”

Lori shook her head. “She won’t even talk to us. What do we do?”

“We can’t just leave Amy like that.” Shane spoke. “We need to deal with it, same as the others.”

Rick nodded. “I’ll talk to her.”

He approached Andrea, saying her name as he knelt down by her side. Suddenly, Andrea turned to him, holding up a gun. “I know how the safety works.” She mumbled.

Rick stood up, holding his hands above his head. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

He walked back over to your group, shaking his head.

“Y’all can’t be serious.” Daryl grumbled. “Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl’s a time bomb.”

“If you have any suggestions-”

“Take the shot.” Daryl cut you off. “Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance.”

“No.” Lori spat. “For God’s sake, let her be.”

“For how long?” You asked. “Look, I can only imagine what she’s feeling right now, but she’s putting us all at risk. We’ve lost enough people already.”

“We’ll watch her, alright?” Lori suggested. “First sign of movement from Amy, you can do what needs to be done.”

Daryl let out a snort, storming off.

“Whatever you want.” You responded, turning and walking away.

…

You took a sip of your water, watching as Daryl and Morales dragged another body towards the fire. Glenn took notice, heading over to the two.

“What are you guys doing?” He asked. “This is for geeks. Our people go over there.” He pointed to an area where bodies had been lined up.

“What’s the difference?” Daryl asked. “They’re all infected.”

“Our people go in that row over there. We don’t burn them!” Glenn choked out. “We bury them. Understand? Our people go in that row over there.”

Daryl and Morales exchanged glances, grabbing the woman and dragging her away. 

“You reap what you sow.” Daryl mumbled.

“You know what? Shut up, man.” Morales snapped.

“Y’all left my brother for dead. You had this coming!”

You clenched your fist. “These people did nothing to you or your brother. They didn’t deserve to die like this!”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” He responded.

Before you could respond, Jacqui began to call out. “A walker got him! A walker bit Jim.”

Everyone stopped in their tracks, except for Shane and Daryl who rushed over.

“Show it to us. Show us.” Daryl demanded.

“I’m fine, really.” Jim responded.

“Easy, Jim.” Shane warned.

“Grab him.”

Jim grabbed a shovel off the ground, swinging it to keep the men back. Shane came behind him, knocking the shovel away and holding his arms behind his back and Daryl lifted his shirt. There it was, a bit placed on his abdomen.

“I’m okay.” Jim spoke as Shane let him go. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

…

Jim sat in front of the RV as the rest of the camp gathered nearby.

“I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it.” Daryl mumbled.

“Is that what you’d want if it were you?” Shane asked.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, and I’d thank you while you did it.”

“I hate to say it, I never thought I would, but maybe Daryl’s right.” Dale spoke.

“Jim’s not a monster, Dale,” Rick responded. “Or some rabid dog.”

“I’m not suggesting-”

“He’s sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?”

“The line’s pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them soon to be.”

Rick shook his head. “What if we can get him help? I heard the CDC was working on a cure.”

Shane nodded. “I heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell.”

“What if the CDC is still up and running?” You asked. 

“That’s a stretch right there.” Shane replied.

“Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the C.D.C. at all costs, wouldn't they?” Rick asked. “I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection…”

“Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right?” Shane said. “I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning.”

Lori shook her head. “That's a hundred miles in the opposite direction.”

“That is right. But it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there.”

“The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen that.” Rick sighed. “The C.D.C. is our best choice and Jim's only chance.”

“You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do.” Daryl spoke, raising the pickaxe in his hands. “Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!”

He rushed towards Jim, but you quickly jumped in the way.

“Get the hell out of my way!”

“If you want to kill him, you’ll have to kill me first.” You responded, looking at your brother. “But if you do that, I promise you, you’ll be dead before I even hit the ground.”

Daryl turned around, noticing Rick’s gun trained on him.

“We don’t kill the living.” Rick spoke.

“That’s funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head.”

“We may disagree on some things, but not this.” Shane spoke to Daryl. “You put it down.”

Daryl dropped the pickaxe, walking away from the group.

“Come on,” Rick spoke, helping Jim to his feet.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked.

“Somewhere safe.”

…

Hours later, you all sat around the camp, completely exhausted. Amy had turned and been put down by Andrea, and everyone had been present for a mini funeral. All of the walkers from last night had also been burned.

You studied Carol, who sat a few feet away, holding Sophia tight. Ed had been one of the casualties last night, something you weren’t going to be losing sleep over. Still, you worried about how they were taking it.

Shane and Rick exited the woods, calling for everyone to join them by the RV. You stood from your seat, heading in their direction.

“I've been, uh… I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Now look, there are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that.” Shane spoke. “I've known this man a long time. I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning.”

Chatter erupted among the camp, everyone unsure of if they wanted to follow Rick’s plan or not. You weren’t quite sure what you wanted, not that you really had a choice in the matter. You’d stick with your family; there was no way you’d willingly separate from them ever again.

You’d come to see this place as your home over the last few months. As much as you knew it wasn’t safe anymore, it still wasn’t easy to leave. Especially when you weren’t sure that you’d find a safe haven at the CDC.

…

The next morning, you stood around camp as everyone prepared to leave. All of your stuff was already packed and in the trunk of Carol’s car.

“Everyone listen up.” Shane called out. “Those of you with C.B.s, we're gonna be on channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, don't have a C.B., can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?”

Morales stepped forward. “We're not going.”

His wife nodded. “We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people.”

Shane stepped towards them. “If you go on your own, you won’t have anyone to watch your back.”

“We’ll take our chances.” Morales replied. “I’ve gotta do what’s best for my family.”

“Are you sure?” Rick asked.

Morales nodded. “We talked about it. We're sure.”

Rick looked at Shane. “357?”

Shane nodded.

Rick handed Morales a gun, with Shane giving him half a box of ammo.

His wife smiled. “Thank you all. For everything.”

You stepped forward, hugging each member of their family. Everyone else followed suit.

They were the first to leave, but everyone in camp left soon after. As you sat in the back of one of the cars, you stared back at the empty camp until it disappeared from your view.

…

You’d been driving for a while before everyone came to a complete stop. Dale’s RV had broken down and Jim’s condition was worsening. He was now asking to be left behind.

“It’s what he wants.” Rick mumbled.

“And he’s lucid?” Carol asked.

“He seems to be.”

You shook your head. “This is wrong. What if he changes his mind and he’s stuck here all alone?”

“He’s pretty adamant. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Back in the camp when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down, you misunderstood.” Dale spoke up. “I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was just gonna suggest that we ask Jim what he wants. And I think we have an answer.”

“I’m not sure I can live with this.” Shane shook his head.

“It’s not your call.” Lori responded. “If it’s what he truly wants, he deserves to make that choice.”

You all agreed, knowing Lori was right. In this world, being able to die on your own terms was a blessing. Who were you to take that from him?

Rick and Shane carried Jim to a tree, sitting him down underneath it. You all tearfully said your goodbyes.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked. “We can still bring you back to the RV.”

Jim smiled, looking up at the sky. “I’m sure, this is exactly what I want. Besides, I’ll be with my family soon. God, have I missed them.”

You frowned for a moment, nodding to yourself. “I know they’ve missed you too. Goodbye, Jim.”

You stood up from your crouched position, making your way back to the car and climbing inside. Leaning your head against the window, you closed your eyes; you’d be at the CDC before you knew it.

…

The sun had begun to set by the time you’d all parked in the CDC lot. You all grabbed as much of your stuff as you could carry, beginning to run through the parking lot towards the building.

“Keep moving,” Rick whispered. “Come on.”

You all arrived at the door, realizing it was locked and that all the windows were shuttered. Shane began to pound on the door, leading you to feel increasingly anxious.

“There’s nobody there.” T-Dog spoke.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick asked.

“Walkers incoming!” Daryl warned, shooting one in the head. “You led up to a god damn graveyard!”

“He made a call!” Shane yelled.

“It was the wrong call.”

“Just shut up, okay? Shut up.” Shane mumbled, turning to Rick. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where the hell are we gonna go now?” You asked, stabbing a walker in the head.

“Do you hear me?” Shane asked. “No blame.”

Lori shook her head. “We can’t be here. We’re too close to the city and it’s almost dark.”

“Fort Benning, Rick. It’s still an option.”

“On what?” Andrea asked. “No food, no fuel. That’s a hundred miles.”

“A hundred and twenty five. I checked the map.” Glenn spoke.

“Forget Fort Benning.” Lori snapped. “We need answers now.”

Rick nodded. “We’ll think of something.”

“Let’s just get out of here.” Shane spoke, ushering for everyone to follow him.

You’d begun walking away when you heard Rick’s voice again.

“Wait!” You turned back around. “The camera, it moved.”

“You imagined it.” You responded.

“It moved.”

“Rick, it’s dead, man.” Shane spoke. “It’s an automated device.”

“I know someone is in there.”

“Rick please-“ you started, but Rick began slamming his hands against the door.

“Rick, you’re drawing the dead!” Shane yelled, trying to pull him back.

“I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me!” Rick yelled. “Please, we’re desperate. We have women and children with us. We have no food and hardly any gas left.”

“Rick, please stop.” You begged. “We have to go now, before it’s too late.”

“If you don’t let us in, you’re killing us!” Rick yelled. “Please, you’re killing us!”

Shane managed to pull Rick away, causing him to give up. As he angrily walked behind Shane, a loud humming caught all of your attention.

The door to the CDC began opening, a light shining so bright you swore it could’ve blinded you if you stared too long. Everyone stood in shock, completely unable to move.

“Holy shit.” You whispered. 

Rick was right.

----

AN: Thank you for reading this chapter! I cannot believe we're already on the finale next chapter. If you'd like to request to be tagged in future chapters, you can do so here. Please be sure to like and reblog <3

[leilapost]

question: manifesting lenient parents

hi, i haven’t posted on tumblr before so i don’t really know how this works so please forgive me if i’m not following the correct tumblr etiquette for the loa community, i just need advice. i would highly appreciate it.

recently, i’ve been trying to manifest my parents to be more lenient toward me. i’m an adult and i just want to have a healthier relationship with them and have our ideologies align. we’re usually fine but when it comes to hanging out with friends late, clubbing, partying, dating, drinking, travelling, performing, & hanging with boys (im not looking for a relationship but just as friends) it just ends in arguments. they treat me completely different just because im a girl. but girls can do anything a man can but i just need to prove it & be strong and independent.

i am moving out for university, so that’s a bonus but they want me to come back every weekend, have an eye on my bank account, ensure that im not clubbing, travelling, and just staying within my flat at night & call them everyday. i just want us to have a healthy but distant relationship. this way everyone’s happy. :)

i want to change this through the law of assumption. i know it works, i know it changes lives but i just don’t have an idea where to start, how to persist, and ignore the 3D. i feel like im complicating all of it 😭

i love them but i just can’t keep up with this. i need to be independent and truly see the world. this is for my future, and to discover myself.

should i try robotic affirmations? and so which ones should i do?

i’ve tried manifesting this for over a year now. i don’t know what it is that i’m doing wrong. i’ve listened to subliminals & trusted the process to the point where i thought it would be okay to just go to another city 3 hours away for the night and come back home the next day (it didn’t work out well for me at all😭)

when my friends try to make plans with me, my first thoughts would always be “yeah, i can’t do that”, if i’m thinking that and feeling that, how can i say one thing and believe another? it feels like it resets ALL of my progress.

i’m moving out in 3 weeks. i want to manifest parents that can let me do anything within that time, but still maintaining a lovely & beautiful relationship with them.

if there’s anyone that has any questions regarding my scenario, has a success story on this topic, advice for what i can do. please comment ❤️

i’ll document this journey, updating as much as i can so that hopefully people can trust the loa and apply it to themselves. i love you all and thank you so much for your time.

leila post ❤️

[bloogers-boogers]

The battle field was messy, you could see splattered blood everywhere you turn, broken shards and buildings demolished, the bodies of angels, hellborns and sinners laying around, countless of them.

More explosions could be heard from afar and even more angels flew down to hell some to help the injured others to cause the injuries.

It was absolute chaos. And Charlie Morningstar couldn’t help but feel like she was to blame, from hell’s perspective she was the cause of this but like a mirror of their own Emily the seraphim’s reflection mirrored Charlie and so did heaven see Emily at fault of this.

Both most powerful angels were plucked to the ground, captive, as an evil force layed upon them, wrapping them tightly on to their bodies; back, wrists and legs. Michael tried reaching for his sword but it was useless; he never gave up for his people, he couldn’t give up now, he wanted, needed to protect them. Lucifer growled as he tried pulling roughly at the chains on him; worried for Charlie, trying to reach out to protect her as much as he can. He had to. He can’t give up. He can’t lose her. He must protect her.

Neither could move however, they looked like worms wiggling around with a missing head. Like a snake having its head chopped off but its tail still moving. It was devastating to hear their people scream in both panic and rage. They couldn’t accept their fate this easily, Lucifer couldn’t. There was so much to lose than to win if they did.

But in a blink of eye, as a miracle had happened Lucifer heard a faint scream, a familiar voice. He looked up and saw Adam standing not too far from both archangels. Actually, to be specific, on the other side of the edge of the huge cliff that broke apart from pentagram city and kept the archangels apart from the chaos. Keeping them far from reach of anyone. It was cruel, because the view was fantastic, they could see everything, oh god they could see fucking everything.

“Adam!? Holy fuck! Adam!” Lucifer for once, was genuinely happy to see the first man. He was alive, that was good.

But being alive doesn’t take away that Adam was limping his way even further to the edge of the cliff to get a better look at them. It didn’t take away that a wing was missing and the other was only half of it. He held his side as blood poured from what seemed like another injury of many more.

“You’re alive!” Adam shouted as he stopped his walking once he hit a high dangerous level of risk, “I know how to get you guys out! All you need to do is save heaven and hell if I do it!”

Both archangels looked at him in a ‘what?’ Manner.

“Typical Adam thing to do to try negotiating with us while everyone is agonizing pain, suffering, and most likely about to be all wiped out from existence. Now let’s hear what you have to offer!” Michael hissed sarcastic as he felt horns popping out from his head, being in hell for this long has been turning him slowly.

“I’m more surprised he hasn’t just left us to die to be honest,” Lucifer admitted, his eyes still on Adam trying to analyze him.

“He won’t, because we have to save his ass too in the process.”

“We can still leave him to the side.”

“You know I’m right fucking here!” Adam said with frustration, “it’s not that type of deal.”

Both archangels blinked, doubtful.

“How do we even know you actually know how to get us ‘out’ for all we know you may think that but it won’t?” Michael interrogated further.

“Fuck! I just know, okay!?? Just trust me on this. I know what I’m doing. In all the thousands of years of just existing, I finally know what I’m doing and meant to do,” Adam exclaimed before slowly lowering his voice the more serious he got into his speech.

They looked at him expectantly.

“And thats to save humanity. Lucifer may had doomed it but I can save it! This is where my deal starts. The moment I do this, you both are gonna shove your differences aside, work together to get this evil out of the way and finally shake hands to one of Charlie’s little activities. Because I suppose redemption isn’t so bad and second chances are always welcome. Got it?”

Both archangels winced at the idea of working together but at the same time, looked at Adam as if he had grown another head.

Lucifer winced his eyes, the words echoing in his head warning him of something that’s about to come, that he’s not ready to face just yet. That he never considered to ever happen. He just couldn’t tell what that was until the words sank in.

“Fine.” Michael and Lucifer said at the same time.

Adam smiled. Like actually smile for the first time since his fall he fucking smile and that was before Lucifer could realized it’s gonna be his last.

Before Lucifer realized what was going on, what Adam was about to do.

“Wait…” he looks up in panic as he saw Adam dash his way back down to the chaos, “ADAM, WAIT!!” his blurry figure could be seen disappearing into the dust particles of the explosions, far away from view.

Lucifer cried out in a panic as he kept pulling forward with even more force trying to get loose from the chains.

“What’s happening?” Michael asked alarmed as Lucifer demeanor changed more frantic and desperate.

“Adam is gonna sacrifice himself!”

Before he could do more a green explosion was heard, one too powerful and loud in comparison of the rest. One extremely different and unsettling. One that made all the grounds of hell shake tremendously.

Maybe he was being a little bit dramatic, maybe he was being genuinely honest about Adam being a small misfortune to deal with in his life since the angel fell to hell, but fuck, Lucifer didn’t want him to die nonetheless to take it himself!

From the sudden explosion and the release of his wrists, Lucifer right there knew…

Adam was gone. Like actually gone this time. Like he’ll never see those golden devilish eyes on him thinking he’s slick after planting a prank on him mid-day time.

Oh Adam! You stupid airhead bitch!

~~~~

After thinking the impossible would be, well, basically impossible. It became possible. Lucifer and Michael had a lot to work on when it came to their issues, but they sure made a good team. Defeating evil with another entity as strong as you made things much more easier to handle, and with the addition of Charlie, Emily and the many other seraphim and hellborns it was absolutely a breeze in comparison of the suffocating heat of it all, they finally defeated evil.

And it was all thanks to Adam. The first man. The so called ��dickmaster’. The first fucking dumbass of humanity. Not having managed to release them in time could’ve doomed both heaven and hell (double doom for hell).

Lucifer sighed mournful after being released of a soul crushing group hug with Charlie, her friends and that dickhead of Michael and Gabriel. Walking away, the devil reached towards a huge hole on the ground that lead to the real depths of hell. He looked down seeing nothing but darkness and screams echoing the inside.

Charlie stepped closer, trying to reach out but keeping herself at a comfortable distance from her father.

“Adam.. he-“

“I know, sweetie,” Lucifer kept looking away from the rest just looking at the darkness of the hole as if he could feel the last remaining of Adam’s aura in there. But there was nothing more there to find if he looked, “we thought we were the heroes but in the end, it was the villain who saved us all.”

“Does Adam even count as a villain? He was more of a bitter asshole than something to feel threatened about,” Angel dust added as everyone else approached the scene. Husk giving him a hard nudge on the side of his elbow; to keep quiet.

Lucifer tightly clutch his chest, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sadness hit him in ways it had never before, tears fell like waterfalls as he falls on his knees, hands touching the ground trying to feel Adam.

“Dad..?”

“I think… I just lost something I love.”

[everythingcanadian]

Love Languages

Mike Ross X Harvey Specter

M for Mature

Tags: Established Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Hints to Smut, Romance, Domestic

The five love languages displayed between Mike and Harvey. They each flourish in different aspects. Harvey is so very soft for Mike.

Also On AO3

Touch:

Mike, at some point, sits in Harvey's dark office after hours, when everyone, or almost everyone, has gone home. He's sitting on the couch, laying back against the back cushion and looking out the window. And he says out loud to himself: "I don't need approval. I need affection." 

His eyes sting from being up too long and from taking his heart out of his chest and turning it every-which way to see if it has an off switch or reset button. Spoiler: it doesn't.

What he doesn't know is Harvey has been standing just inside the now closed glass door for a minute or two. Watching Mike look at the world outside.

It's another second of Mike taking heavy breaths to calm himself. "Approval is nice. But affection is better." And that's when he tilts his head to look right up at the ceiling and catch Harvey out of the corner of his eye.

Now. Take this little scene and picture Harvey walking in, quiet but focused. His eyes never leave Mike's, and Mike's never leave his.

When he gets to the back of the couch, he puts his hands on either side of Mike's head as Mike looks up at him. The slow breathing is matched over a few moments.

Harvey's brown eyes roam Mike's tired face. They notice little spots of irritated skin, a beginning stress pimple on his chin, the oily sheen on Mike's forehead and the tops of his cheeks where the ambient light from the city is hitting them.

From here, they're both human. 

Harvey sighs softly, and the hot breath from his nose ruffles Mike's hair. He leans down and places a soft kiss on Mike's forehead, lingering there and breathing him in. The soft smack of separation brings a gentle warmth to this. 

Mike's eyes are slow to open. And when they do, they're hooded. It's funny looking upside down. Harvey smiles that private smile. The one only Mike and Donna get to see. The vulnerable one. Mike loves that one.

Harvey hears the quiet but deep seeded moan of approval. Mike pats the cushion next to him. He only moves a little bit when Harvey stands straight and moves around to sit next to him.

When he does, and he's settled against the side, he opens his arm and let's Mike come to him, gravitate into his chest and be safe and quiet for a moment if not an eternity. The natural fit of Mike's head against his neck and shoulder is all Harvey needs to know that he and Mike are meant to be together. It's a sappy internal monologue he has going, but it's no less true. And it's especially true when Harvey kisses Mike's head and he hears the younger man sigh with the rightness. The need for affection being slowly filled as they sit there.

Harvey noses and kisses and keeps himself pressed against Mike's head, the short hairs tickling him but reminding him of what he's doing and who for. 

Eventually, they'll get up to finish whatever Mike was doing for Harvey, or leave it and head home for the night. But not yet. 

Time:

When it was just the two of them alone they could get away with quick meals. Little one pot dishes or things Mike has learned but can’t execute right. He relays the recipe to Harvey and he watches and Harvey adjusts it to their tastes.

When there are a couple people over in Harvey’s (now their) condo Harvey will enlist the help of Mike. Jessica and Donna will sit at the bar across from where Harvey is julienning carrots and zucchini. He shows off a little with his quick knife work, but he is mindful of where his hands are. 

When Mike wants to try something Harvey is happy to oversee it. He knows Mike can make a mess so he cleans as they go. He’ll help out where Mike needs it or asks for it. And he will ask when it’s just them. Sole risotto with garlic and parsley pure, being stirred evenly by Mike. 

It gives Harvey the time he needs to take out the marinating heirloom tomatoes from the fridge and plate them on a sharing dish. He’s happy to just chop herbs and onion to put on top, taking his time to get even dicing.

They don’t have to be constantly chattering at each other. It’s nice to just listen to the low volume record Harvey has playing. He’ll sway his hips a bit and mouth out sounds under his breath to the music. The soft accompaniment of Mike’s humming when he knows a bit of the tune joins Harvey’s melody. They can both hear the other smile even though their backs are to each other. 

The atmosphere they’ve made for themselves holds them in its embrace when the stove gets turned off and the risotto is put into two shallow bowls. Quiet and steady. Mike knows he’s going to be doing the dishes later and Harvey will have a case file open in front of him at the bar counter while they work away separately. 

Gifts:

Harvey doesn’t really enjoy receiving gifts. Sure he likes rewards and incentives from clients and the like, but he is not someone who gets much pleasure from personal gifts. 

He does, however, know someone who adores being gifted things. Little things. Goofy things. Novelty or knick knacks. Practical sometimes. 

He notices when Mike gets his gift too. In the way Mike will smile at him. Of the little show off thing he does. 

Harvey smiles back at him and shakes his head, eyes sparkling in mirth at his lover. His partner really. 

The tie clip that looks like a silver arrow is one of the first things Mike gets from Harvey. It’s not too personal but it is nice. He immediately swaps out the plain bevelled, polished-metal bar for it. And Harvey notices when Mike shows up in his office an hour later, jacket missing, sleeves rolled, but tie nice and neat, mouth going a mile a minute on some small print in a file from weeks ago that will undo the knot of a case they have now. Harvey’s eyes stay lit up from when he first spotted it on the dark navy tie. 

When Mike is done his mini-rant Harvey shifts himself so his mouth isn’t covered by his fingers. “You look good, kid.”

It flusters Mike a little but then they get to the point of what Mike has brought him.

When Mike buys Harvey a little cactus to add to his ever growing plant collection he’s quickly informed that Harvey is not a gift haver . “But I do appreciate the thought of this. I just like getting things on my own time and own money.” He kisses Mike’s temple and happily puts the new cactus next to a succulent on his kitchen counter at the end where just enough sun will hit them. 

A few weeks later Mike is given a small blue box, not jewellery sized, bigger than that. Inside in black and white paper he finds a disposable camera that needs filling. ‘ Add to your memories ’ is written in neat script from Harvey’s favourite fountain pen. Mike grins.

A lovely looking, dark lacquered, wooden box about the size of a hefty law textbook sits on Mike’s desk just after lunch. He sees a couple of the other guys looking at it with a mix of curiosity, jealousy, and annoyance. There’s a tag looped with twine through the key to the box. The key is a small gold thing, more for show than anything. He opens the little tag booklet and smiles as he reads.

If you need help, you only need ask.

Mike shook his head and slotted the key in, turned it, heard the click and opened the weighty lid to reveal its contents. 

A white porcelain bowl with high walls and a little handle knob on the side. The rim of it and the butt of the handle are painted in fine china blue. The base of it is cork covered to stop it from moving on a counter. Next to the bowl, nestled in paper string worms is a shaving soap cake packaged like fancy waxed cheese. A finished wrought iron stand lays on its side amongst the paper worms. With the same sort of colouring as the stand is a bespoke looking safety razor. Fit with one, very sharp, blade under the rounded head at the end of a heavy handle. It feels nice when Mike holds it. The final piece of the set is a wide shaving brush with the same coloured handle as the stand and razor. Engraved with gold lettering is the company name and their trademark year. There is a soft plastic cover over the bristles to protect it. 

Reading the maker’s card under the lid states it is 100% badger hair. The two soap cakes (the second being hidden by the paper stuffing) are scented how Mike thinks Victorian England would smell: a deep tobacco leaf base and notes of both earl grey and something that is rain on grass. It’s something Mike would think Harvey’s place would smell like on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Comforting.

Mike closes his eyes when he peels back a bit of the sticker seal on the waxed paper to get a good whiff. He has to stop himself from moaning at it. He’s being given a treat. 

Service:

Sunday morning is a late one. Both of them are sleepy and warm. Neither wants to leave their bed. But one can only turn over and go back to sleep so many times. 

Mike drags Harvey out of bed, earns a petulant whine and then an even more irked bleary glare. Thankfully what Mike is going to do for him involves minimal input from him. Harvey sees that Mike has put the medical stool he had when he sprained his ankle into the shower. Harvey’s going to sit while Mike bathes him. And isn’t that heaven. He’d never have thought of it himself. 

Pushing down boxers and boxer-briefs, shedding sleep shirts, and for some god awful reason Mike pulls off sleep socks. (He got cold at night.) Mike makes sure the water is warm before holding Harvey’s hand like a gentleman and making sure his king is seated just under the warm spray. Making sure towels are there Mike finally follows and closes the glass door. 

Leaning back into the water Harvey is in bliss. He had to leave the nest of heat and Mike’s smell behind to get it, but it’s worth it when he feels the warm water run through his hair and down his back and ass. It soothes him in a way nothing else can. When he opens his eyes it’s to Mike watching him lose himself. 

“Yeah?” It’s said with a teasing smile.

Harvey nods and lets out a sigh. He’s in good hands. He closes his eyes again when Mike squeezes a bit of shampoo into the cup of his hand and brings it over Harvey’s hair, lathering his hands together for a moment before diving those wonderful fingers into the dark brown strands of Harvey’s hair. 

The moan echoes loudly in the enclosed shower, stating how good this feels to Harvey. Mike’s little laugh is the answer. All sudsy, Mike gets Harvey to tip back and breath through his nose as he scrubs the shampoo out. It’s rough but good. They found out together how much pressure to use for each other. 

He comes out of the spray and blows the water from his mouth, bringing his hands up to wipe his eyes. This part was never sexy, just close. However Harvey sends heat into Mike’s veins when he places his solid palms on Mike’s hips and pulls him forward a bit. He lays sweet kisses over Mike’s hips and across his lower belly, making sure to lick and lap over the begining of a prominent vein that leads down and among curly pubic hair. 

Mike’s hand cups the back of Harvey’s head, thumb probably rubbing tangles into the one spot. They couldn’t care less when Harvey starts on a hickey, noticing the twitches of muscle underneath soft skin.

“Don’t- not yet. Want to finish this for you.” Mike’s protest is just loud enough above the shower’s noise. 

Harvey pulls his mouth back and nods. His brown eyes promise things from the mischievous glint in them, but they stay their path for now. 

Mike lathers in the conditioner, really massaging it in and earning sighs and hums and deep groans from his love. A warm woodsy scent is amplified, The shampoo was nice, the conditioner adds to it. While they wait for the conditioner Mike pulls the stool out from the water and switches with Harvey so he can quickly scrub his own hair clean. He forgoes the conditioner as he hates the feeling of it. He and Harvey and even Donna have had arguments about it. They stopped giving him shit when they realised he wasn’t going to cave. 

Bringing Harvey back under the spray, Mike is thorough in getting the slick stuff out of that lovingly thick hair. Harvey smiles serenely and lets Mike handle him. 

“Stand please.” Mike’s words are liquid in Harvey’s mind. It’s a familiar moment, not one done often, but Mike wants to. Harvey wants him to. 

It's quick when Mike opens the shower door and puts the stool outside of it and out of their way. Sealing them in once more Mike takes the grey loofa off of the hook behind Harvey and soaks it under the water against Harvey’s back. Mike kisses Harvey’s chest like this, smiles into the press of lips before pulling away. 

“Can I get all of you?”

Harvey’s eyes go so soft for Mike. “Of course. Does this include plans later?”

“It sure can.” Mike sees the small head tilt. “It will.”

Taking the bar of soap and rubbing it in the mesh of the puffball lathers it up and spreads bubbles all over the grey material. “Back first.”

Being presented with the unbroken expanse gives Mike the moment to appreciate it before going to work. He’s even in his circles, this perfect side of rough in the scrubbing, and neither of them comment when his one knee gives a loud crack as he lowers himself down on one to get at Harvey’s legs. He gives a soft pat to Harvey’s asscheek when he needs the man to turn back around. He’s faced with a wonderful problem. But he ignores it in favour of cleaning his love. 

Before standing up he gives the root of it a little kiss. Harvey snorts and moans at the same time. It’s a strangled and delicious mess of a sound. They can wait a little longer. Mike is equally as even and thorough on this side too, lifting Harvey’s arms a bit to get his arm pits and then down his arms to between his fingers. 

He rubs his own hand into the loofa and gives his soaped hand a few rubs in itself before reaching for Harvey’s cock. It’s firm and velvety in Mike’s easy grip. He’s quick with his cleaning, not wanting to drag this out much more. He runs his finger nails through neatly trimmed brown curls and is gentle with Harvey’s balls in his fingers. 

Rinsing his hand off and doing one more soaping of his fingers he drops the loofa and reaches behind Harvey to get at his ass, using one hand to spread apart one cheek and the other to rub and clean and ultimately tease the hell out of his partner. 

The shower is quickly shut off once Harvey and Mike have rinsed off. Mike can wash his own body later. 

Affirmation:

They like to snark at each other. Give biting remarks. Bark things over breakfast or the negotiating table when there’s no client. They enjoy the banter and sneers. The bullying that’s really loving in disguise. Ribbing and winding each other up all work week or more. The teasing and taunting and challenging of each other. 

Everyone has just about had it in the office. That is until a few people hear what can only be described as context.

They had had a bad month. Not just Harvey or Mike, but the whole firm. Something had happened with a client that tumbled into another, and another. 

The ends of ropes are being found and arguments have started popping off. 

It’s during a meeting with Jessica, Louis, a couple paralegals, and some support staff that it happens. 

Mike is tapping his new, heavy, ballpoint pen on his legal pad of a few short notes as Harvey talks to the group from beside him. 

In the middle of his sentence Harvey reaches over and closes his hand over Mike’s. His head turns to him. “Mike, I love you, but if you keep doing that I will kick you out of this meeting through the window.” 

There’s laughter around the table. No one thinks he’s being sincere. And it’s a laugh at Mike’s fidgeting until Mike nods and instead brings the pen into both hands and starts playing with screwing the lid on and off again. It makes no sound and he even brings it down towards his lap so it’s out of Harvey’s peripheral vision.

“Sorry, Harvey, Love you too.” The smile they share in front of witnesses is warmer than anything anyone save for Jessica has seen before. 

Harvey pets Mike’s knee and goes back to what he was saying.

From there, people start to pay attention to the things either not being said or the quieter taunts. It’s then easy to see how they both communicate their love to each other. 

A long suffering sigh from Mike is accompanied by a very small smile. Even though he’s overwhelmed he does the work Harvey asked of him.

Looks sent over pages of documents and files and photos are bright and floaty, sometimes weighted with lust, other times so loving it hurts. 

Donna opens Harvey’s door and hears as well as sees the soft way Harvey murmurs “I love you, sweetheart.” next to Mike on the leather couch. When he spots Donna at the open door he waves her over, takes the usb from her, and states with all the ire he can muster (which is absolutely nothing considering he likes Donna and has his partner near plastered to his side.) “If what you heard leaves this room I’ll have you fired and in Minnesota.”

She just smiles and shakes her head. “The whole office building knows by now. Your little show in the meeting a couple weeks ago has had the spotlight on you since.”

“Fine. The tone can’t leave this room then. It’s only for Mike’s ears.”

“Noted and filed. You guys- I’m glad you found each other.”

“I am too.” Mike says it as he looks up from his highlighting, cheeks just pink but his body relaxed into Harvey’s. 

[chenouttachen]

so i spent my weekend writing 10k words of student comments and i’m coming down with something that’s making my throat desperate to escape my body BUT i have made progress in my thoughts on the pit babe dirty dancing au

okay so this au does not follow the plot of the movie - it takes characters and events as gentle guidelines and possibilities.

Charlie has just recently landed a summer job at Tony Chen’s vacation resort. He’s been looking after his younger brother Jeff for a while now, and he makes a deal with Tony to let Jeff stay at the resort during his summer break from uni. Charlie is working as an events person - running activities with the guests. He is immediately enamoured with Babe, who is a dance instructor.

Babe is in struggle city - he’s been dreading coming back this summer after a drunk hook up with Way leaves him mpregant (i’ve just decided now that yes, we’re keeping the omegaverse. although it could also work with Way just being a really shitty ex). Way is Tony’s nephew and cares about little except his reputation. He wants nothing to do with Babe and the pup. Babe doesn’t want to keep the pup, but cannot afford the procedure. He is, of course, smitten with Charlie, but can’t find it in himself to act on it because he’s very guarded at present.

Jeff, staying under the radar, doesn’t move around the resort much. He mostly sticks to employee areas and stays as far away from Tony as possible (he’s grateful to be here, but does NOT like the man). When he does venture out, he finds himself unconsciously drawn towards events that Alan is running, though he buries his nose in his book any time he thinks the older man might look at him.

Alan is the leader of the dance crew and a mentor to all staff (who aren’t loyal to Tony). He’s been working at Chen’s for years and has a loyal customer base who buy private lessons from him each year. He also runs accessible lessons for everyone at the resort. He has a firm rule about not getting involved with the guests (prior experience has taught him it’s a bad idea). He notices that Jeff is almost always around his activities, though he never participates. He mistakes Jeff for a guest (a very, very pretty guest), and despite the inexplicable butterflies he gets in his stomach after the 5th time he catches Jeff staring, he confronts Jeff and tells him that he either needs to participate in the activities or find another place to spend his time.

Jeff is mortified and immediately takes off. A couple of days later Charlie takes him to the staff’s party house, where the dance crew are relaxing and having fun. Jeff is in flustered awe of everyone’s moves (Charlie is too, make no mistake. Especially when Babe asks him to dance). It takes a while, but eventually Alan notices him. The older man is frustrated initially, thinking someone (probably North) has brought a guest into their zone and is going to get them in trouble.

He tells Jeff that he can’t be there, it’s for employees only. He’s very firm about it, and Jeff is so uncomfortable he can’t find the words to explain. Charlie is quick to realise, rushing over and slinging an arm around Jeff’s shoulders. He explains their situation, and Alan visibly relaxes (and it has nothing to do with the way his heart has been jumping in his chest like a goddamn kid). He apologises to Jeff, who just shrugs. Alan asks him to dance, but the younger man just shoots him a filthy look at leaves. They dance together a few nights later for the first time though and boy oh boy is that an experience for all involved.

Our other friends, all whom are of course included, take on various roles in this mess.

Sonic - a dance instructor who can charm and flirt his way into making everyone feel comfortable and included

North - he does a bit of everything. he’s Babe’s cousin (Babe got him the job), and he helps carry guest’s bags, shows people around, helps out the waitstaff some nights, runs around behind the scenes for activity leaders, etc. He’s been in love with Sonic since the first summer he worked here, but doesn’t think the other man has ever thought of him that way. (He’s wrong, obviously).

Kenta - is Tony’s long-suffering son. He carries out the old man’s wishes and actions, even when they go against his own morals. He is not in high standing with the staff. He stays on the off-chance that Tony will leave the resort to him when he retires (though it seems more likely the bastard would leave it to his asshole cousin or sell it outright).

Kim - a guest at the resort. He’s looking for a relaxing holiday after a very stressful working quarter, but, after seeing something he shouldn’t (maybe an altercation between Kenta and Tony), he somehow finds himself caught up in the drama of the staff.

Dean - a new dance instructor. It’s his first year at the resort, but he thinks he’s hot shit. He tries to push Sonic out of the spotlight to seize his moment, but Alan shuts him down real quick.

Winner - a waiter on staff. and just generally an asshole to everyone around him.

Pete - technically a guest, but is scoping the resort as a property he could buy and rebrand. This technically poses him as an enemy, but Kim is the one who connects the dots that this could be a good thing for everyone - Pete buys the resort, Tony’s out of the picture, Kenta could run things differently and they could fire all the absolute assholes that work there.

Way - as previously stated, is Tony’s nephew and does the dirty work that Tony thinks Kenta is unsuited for. He is also paraded in front of the bigwigs a lot. He and Babe had been friendly for a few summers, so when they meet at a party just before summer and drunkenly hook up, he thinks nothing of it. But when Babe tells him he’s mpregnant he’s sent into panic mode and back peddles out of that relationship so fucking quick. He has ambitions to run the resort.

And that, my friends, is all I’ve got. Please enjoy and run rampant with it. You can also talk to me about it!!