#my mutuals and stuff live here but not ones I talk to a lot so it’s like… 🤷🏼‍♀️

[hightowres]

why do i feel like there’s some sort of veil between me and the rest of the world

[femmeidiot]

.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

it's nice to have a friend !

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairings: jack hughes x shy!reader, jack hughes x bsf!reader, nico hischier x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

warnings: mutual pining, fluff

summary: you gain a best friend and a lover, all in one !

song: it's nice to have a friend by taylor swift

word count: 3.3 k

notes: I love me a reformed bad boy! this is based on this request: here. I hope you like it!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

school bell rings, walk me home, sidewalk chalk covered in snow, lost my gloves, you give me one

"are you okay, miss?" a voice asks from behind you, and you jump.

it's a boy. he's real pretty, features the perfect balance between masculine built and delicate feminine.

you're so sure that you're fifty shades of red right now, but he smiles kindly at you.

"sorry, it's just you look really cold." he points at your hands, and the fact that your teeth are chattering.

you realize that you're still silent.

you hate that you're so painfully shy. it's especially hard after you moved from your hometown for work, where the little amount of friends had to bid you goodbye with worry.

sure, you talk to your coworkers, but it's not the same.

"I-i'm okay." you try to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.

jack, you find out his name is, was raised by his mother to never leave a lady in distress (you almost laugh at that). he offers you his gloves, still warm from his own hands. you thank him quietly, and he grins wide, "you're welcome, sweetheart."

the sidewalk is still covered in snow, but he walks you back to your apartment building, where the two of you find out something else you have in common: you're practically neighbours.

he lives only 4 or 5 doors down from you.

he drops you off, brushing your fingers with his own bigger ones as he tells you to come find him if you need anything at all.

as he watches you enter the safety and warmth of your own apartment, he frowns.

why would he do that? normally he wouldn't care about this kind of stuff, but you looked so cold and down.

so when you offered him that sweet, shy smile, he melts despite the cold jersey weather.

it's weird, because you're very pretty, but he doesn't have the itch to fuck you and leave you.

he wants to know why you're here, what you do, you're favourite colour.

his phone dings with the notification of some instagram model he met up with a week ago. he sighs, turning back from his own door to go meet her.

for some reason, he doesn't want to go.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

"wanna hang out?", yeah, sounds like fun, video games, you pass me a note

you bite your lip, and retract your hand once more. you want to knock, but you...

just do it! you tell yourself, and you knock quickly, wincing.

a boy who is decidedly not jack answers the door.

"uh, hi?" he's tall, with curly hair and a lanky body.

you freeze up a little.

fortunately, jack pops up from behind.

he calls your name, with excitement and surprise. it makes something warm bloom in your chest.

"I brought you guys cookies?" it comes out more like a question, "I brought you guys cookies, because you walked me home last week."

normally, luke would be teasing his older brother - and the fact he was cheesing like an idiot still - but he smells the cookies first.

to your surprise, the younger boy grabs you by the wrist to drag you into the apartment, thanking you for the baked goods.

he offers you a hug, introducing himself.

you're a bit unnerved, but he's so cute, like a little puppy that you hug him back, patting his shoulder while stifling a smile. he reminds you a bit of your own little brother.

jack pouts. no way luke got a hug before him. so he sidles up to you, tucking you under his arm.

"wanna hang out with us? we're playing video games."

you don't know much, but you do know you like how he's looking at you, all soft brown eyes and crooked smile.

so you tuck yourself into the couch.

you find out a lot about both of them: they're brothers who play for the same nhl team - impressive - they can finish a whole batch of cookies in 20 minutes, and they have lots of friends.

people start popping up into the apartment, nico, johnny and so many more large, kind boys who hug you in greeting.

you almost don't mind, especially when jack texts you from across the room.

he's watching you from the kitchen where you're speaking in choppy german to nico. he's worried, because the first time he met you, you were so shy and shaking in your boots.

you all good? I can walk you home if the boys are tiring you out

you look up, a small grin on your face as you shake your head at him.

you look so at home on his couch with his friends, that something blind and unfamiliar stirs in his stomach. he ignores an incoming text from the instagram model he met up with, in favour to watch nico explain german grammar to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

light pink sky up on the roof, sun sinks down, no curfew, twenty questions, we tell the truth

jack thinks you're an angel. he'd come back to the apartment after a really hard game, battered and bruised. you show up to his door like you have been for a while, sometimes when it's just the two of you, sometimes when many of the boys are there.

this time, you're holding a bag in your hands. he sighs as he opens the door, falling into your arms.

"oh-! jack, you're too heavy!" you exclaim, trying to hold his weight. he pouts, leading you to the couch. he pushes you down gently, and you let him.

he snuggles up to you, head cradled by your chest.

he waits for you to coo and fuss over him, because you're just so kind and he finds this unprecedented comfort in you.

you feel like home, despite only knowing him for a few months.

"you okay?" you ask, and he pushes his head into your hands. you smile, getting the message.

you finally scratch his head, and he practically purrs. he settles into you, full weight like a thick blanket as you push through his hair with your nails.

"there you go," you murmur, quiet and loving. he thinks you'd be a good mom someday, and his heart twists when he thinks of you with someone else, making a home.

"can you scratch my back?" he knows he's being whiny, but you brush your thumb over his cheek and nod.

you're about to slip your hand under his shirt, but he sits up, tugging it over his head and returning to you like he always seems to do these days.

he slides his arms under your back, rubbing his head to your stomach.

you flush red, something unfamiliar spiking through your blood. he's all thick, soft muscles, unlike the vanity ones you see on some guys. raw, simple strength to take the hits and deliver them in his sport.

he's so handsome.

you scratch your nails down his back and he shivers.

"cold?" you hum, but he shakes his head.

after a while, he lets you get up because your legs are numb.

"you're too heavy," you grin again, and he complains that you're calling him fat.

he's ridiculous, with his abs under soft skin and big biceps. he still hasn't put his shirt back on.

"so, what's in the bag?" he asks, and you brighten up.

you dump it out on to the couch: it's face masks, eye masks and skin care.

"I like to relax with this, so I thought maybe you would like it?" you ask shyly, "we don't have to-"

"no!" jack exclaims, throwing everything into the bag and standing, "I want to. see what the hype is about."

he's seen the cute couple pictures online with the girl doing the guy's skincare; something about you suggesting it makes his feel ten feet tall.

so that's how he ends up with you on his bathroom counter, himself between your legs as you rub shaving cream onto his face.

"you better not slice me up," he pokes your tummy, and you giggle.

"don't worry, jackpot," you use his nickname, "cant' have the fans mourning your pretty face."

you carefully shave off his stubble, eyes concentrated.

you're so close, and you smell you, and you're so careful with him he wants to kiss you and give you his heart.

you hold his hair back as he washes his face. the act is so intimate, and the whole scene is so domestic that it makes him homesick for something he's never had.

"okay, so I'll put the eye masks on you first, then the clay one."

it's actually pretty relaxing, he has to admit. the eye masks are cool, and the clay mask is a little tight, but he likes to see you smooth it onto your own face, matching his.

he takes his phone, and you slide under his arm, linking yours around his waist.

the both of you smile wide for the mirror selfie, and he makes it his lock screen.

after both of you wash the masks from you - admittedly smoother - skin, he orders a pizza, and you make your way up to the roof.

the light pollution is too bad and he knows that the stars won't be visible, but the pink-inked sky is pretty as your smile.

the two of you talk about everything and nothing: some trick he managed to pull during practice, your co-workers pending divorce, something funny his mom said.

he wishes he could stay here forever, with you.

you, with your soft hair and smile, his too-big hoodie over your shoulders as you lean on him.

he likes seeing you all sleepy and vulnerable, answering his questions quietly.

"do you want a boyfriend?" he asks as the sun goes to bed.

"of course I do," you murmur, "but I just want the right person, at the right time."

he smiles at that. he wants to be that person for you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you've been stressed out lately? yeah, me too, something gave you the nerve, to touch my hand

"oh, shit." you swear softly, and sophie, your co-worker turned best friend - don't let jack hear that - apologizes.

"sorry! sorry! don't move, bro!" she rubs where the curling iron touched the back of your neck.

"that's gonna leave a mark. I'm sorry, sweetie." she fusses, and you tell her it's okay.

luke and jack are having a party for new years at their place, so you and sophie take that chance to dress up for once.

your makeup is done, so is your hair. you have to admit, sophie's done a real good job.

"yeah, dude. we look hot."

you're wearing a pretty red dress, with thin straps and material that clung to your body.

you were unsure, but Sophie hyped you up enough for you to put it on, and you felt really confident.

except you were a little scared at how short it was.

"hey, girl!" luke exclaimed when you entered their apartment. "you look great. hey, soph!"

he handed you both a drink, scurrying off to greet someone else.

the two of you link hands, trying and laughing while bulldozing through the crowd to get to the living room.

some guy catches soph's eye, and you encourage her to go off and talk to him.

nico finds you, being pushed around by the throng of people, and tucks you under his arm like your a football.

you giggle a little as he manages to navigate the way. jack's sitting on one of the arm chairs, and his eyes brighten when he sees you.

"special delivery!" nico pats your head like he would to his little sister, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

the only thing between you is many half-drunk hockey players and drinks on the ground. nico is about to pick you up like a cat, but jack hops his way over, swatting his hands.

"I got it, precious cargo, after all." he slips one hand under your thighs, and another arm wrapped round your waist so you're pressed against his vertically.

you cling to his neck as he makes his way back to his seat, turning you in his arms to fit you onto his lap.

"you look..." he breathes into your ear, "you look gorgeous, baby."

"thanks, jack."

the night continues like normal, until between the sheer amount of people in the apartment and jack's chest pressed against you is making you over heat. as you laugh at one of johnny's jokes you sweep your hair over your shoulder to let your neck breathe.

you feel jack tense beneath you, and he lifts you to stand.

"I-i need a drink," his eyes are panicked and shaky. he bolts, and you stand to go after him. nico and Luke call after you, concerned.

you find him on the roof, leaning over the banister, shoulders shaking.

"jack, honey?" you ask, slipping a hand between his shoulder blades, "do you feel sick?"

the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin, even more so when he turns to you, teeth grit.

"no, m'fine. go back to the party."

"not until you tell me-"

"why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?" he blurts out, refusing to look at you.

"huh?" you ask.

"why didn't you tell me? I thought we told each other everything."

"what are you-"

"you don't need to pretend. I know-" he shudders, like it's painful for him to say this, "I know you're..."

"jack-" you start, but he grabs your hands, new determination in his eyes as he draws you close.

"you should know that I'm in love with you. so you have options, baby." his lip is quivering, and his eyes are rimmed with red.

"I-"

"I could treat you better than he could. and I wouldn't hide it, either. we would be so good together..." he's rubbing the length of your arms now, trying to warm you up.

"we already work so well together. we're best friends and you make me laugh so much. you make me feel safe and tethered."

he continues, "and...jeez, baby, you're fucking gorgeous. I just want to press you against a wall and..." he's talking low and heavy in your ear, and you lean closer to him.

"please, just consider me. I wouldn't just leave a hickey on your neck behind your ear and not celebrate new years with you."

"what?" you asked, surprised, "no, that's not a hickey. sophie burnt my neck while curling my hair."

jack colours a brilliant shade of fire work red.

he just got all in his head, seeing you dolled up and loose, that when he saw the mouth sized mark on the smooth nape of your neck, his only thought was: that should've been me.

"fuck."

you've got a teasing smile on your face now, "you loooove me!"

"I am a dumbass."

"a dumbass who loves me." you grin, cupping his neck, smoothing circles over the skin there.

"my offer still stands," he tells you, winding his arms around your waist.

"yes. I love you too, you idiot." the people throughout the apartment building are starting to chant.

3, 2, 1, happy new years!

"happy new years, baby." he says, and he presses his lips softly, and sweetly to yours.

he's so delicate, trying to make sure everything is perfect.

and it is, because he's with you, with the promise of more forever.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

church bells ring, carry me home, rice on the ground looks like snow

"yeah, mom. I know, I've been eating good. my girl's taking care of me."

you hear jack's voice from where you're measuring rice in the pantry. he definitely thinks that the pantry doors are thicker than they are.

you smile, because he takes such good care of you too: he washes your hair in the shower, he carries and stocks your groceries, he always makes sure you're fed and warm when you're too stressed.

and he takes care of you in other ways that makes you warm and all liquidy.

"I'm gonna make her my wife, mom. she's...she's the one. yes, I'll bring her to the lake house for the summer, but I'll have to ask first. okay. bye. love you too."

by that time you've made it out of the room, closer to him. when he says wife, you drop the whole bowl of rice you were holding.

"did you hear that?" jack's ears are pink, but he's got a cheesy smile on his face.

"yeah. you have a really loud voice, honey."

"call me that again." he asks, as you come to stand between his legs as he sits on the barstool of the kitchen counter.

"loud voice," you tease.

he laughs, and when the two of you quiet down, he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I mean it, y'know."

"we've been only dating for like a month," you protest weakly.

"and I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle to me."

"will you cry?"

"no," he lies, even though he's getting a little teary just thinking about it.

"hmm." you kiss him anyways, and Luke finds you there 10 minutes later, still wrapped up together with rice all over the floor.

"you guys are weirdos." he rolls his eyes, making a face as jack kisses your lips again.

"watch it, mister. you're talking to your future sister in law." you joke, and luke jumps, reaching for your hand.

"dude, were you fucking with me?" he whines, "I got all excited too."

jack hollers something insulting his intelligence as you laugh, watching the two boys.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

feels like home, stay in bed, the whole weekend, it's nice to have a friend

jack kisses your forehead as he hands you a plate of food. you bite his cheek as he shrieks.

you laugh, sitting up so he can see his shirt that's practically falling off of your frame.

you and jack had a slow morning, the sun streaming over your naked bodies as you simply enjoyed each other's presence. around noon, he finally got up to shower.

you refused to join him because "no, the two of us showering together would not save water, it would probably waste more."

so he showered, sad and alone, and made breakfast after you went to clean yourself off.

now, watching you eat toast and watch his past game highlights from last weekend, he knows.

he knows it's going to be you, no matter what.

he knows it's you he wants to grow old with, and have three kids - two boys, one girl, he has the names all planned out - and that picket fence shit.

he knows it's you who'll take care of him with your soft hands and heart at the end of the day, and you'll be the one he'll protect and provide for too.

he knows that he loves you like the back of his hand.

and he knows you're his best friend, the love of his life.

so he knows that he wants to make you his wife.

he leans over to his bedside drawer and pulls out a box.

he got it the weekend after the two of you got together, and he's shaking as you turn to him with wide eyes.

"I love you. you're...you're it for me, baby. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I promise to keep you safe and warm and always finish your plate when you're full," he knows you too well, because your left overs are already on his plate, "and I just want all of you. will you marry me?"

"yes," you breathe, tackling him into the bed with a delighted whoop.

there's no other words to describe it, it's so nice to have you.

it's so nice to have you forever, now.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[fireflyinks]

I have an idea for a request :) 💗 sorry if this is long but what if hamzah did one of the solo out of character podcasts and then he invited y/n but then the sexual/romantic tension between them so they stop filming to do other stuff (can be the deed if you want to take a smut route or just making out or being cuddly for a fluffy route!) or maybe 🫣 they forget about the camera and accidentally capture stuff on camera

special guest

hamzah x reader smut

contains : smut, oral sex (both giving and receiving), no p in v, use of y/n, cursing, sort of exhibition (they record themselves but don’t post it), munch!hamzah

a/n : I LOVE THIS SM, munch!hamzah is my new favorite thing to write, i’m obsessed. anon you’re literally a genius. thank you so much for the support on all of my hamzah posts, i love you alllll

18+ MINORS DNI

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hamzah and I had been friends for a couple of years. Both of us had YouTube channels and lived near one another so we would hang often. There was an obvious connection between us, but Hamzah nor I were bold enough to point it out. The two of us simply enjoyed dancing around the face that we obviously had mutual feelings for one another.

I sat on my couch, editing my latest video when I felt my phone buzz beside me. I picked it up, reading “hamzah” spread across my screen and a .5 picture I’d taken of him. I swiped right to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/n. Are you busy?”

I shook my head as if he could see me, “No, what’s up?”

“Well, Martin is busy today and can’t record for our podcast, so I was wondering if you’d want to come record with me. Like a ‘special guest’ type thing?”

I thought for a moment. I hadn’t seen him in a while just because the two of us had busy, and viewers loved it when we made content together. We actually got shipped a lot, but Hamzah always ignored it, and I never brought it up. Part of me was glad that even the fans noticed that there was something between us.

“Yeah, why not? That sounds fun, when do you want me to come over?”

Hamzah took a beat before answering. “You could come over now, and afterwards we could order dinner or something, yeah? You’ll have to come to Martin’s apartment because that’s where we film, it’s not too far from mine. I’ll send you the address.”

“I’m on my way, see ya in a second.”

“Thanks, y/n, drive safe.” He hung up.

My heart fluttered at his last comment.

I went to my room and quickly put on something sort of presentable. The star of my outfit was none other then a small denim miniskirt.

The drive to Martin’s house was only about ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I was way more excited about spending time was Hamzah than I should’ve been.

Once I arrived at the apartment, I knocked on the door. I was greeted immediately by Hamzah. I couldn’t help but noticed as he looked me up and down once he’d opened the door, a small grin on his lips.

“Hey!” He said, pulling me into a hug. It surprised me a bit but Hamzah was always very affectionate with me, even as a friend. He’d play with strands of my hair on late nights after filming when we’d sit and talk about pretty much anything, and would always grab my hand when leading me places.

“Hi” I smiled into his shoulder right before he let go.

“I have everything get up in here.” Like clockwork, he took my hand and led me through Martin’s apartment. I looked around, seeing the scenes that had made appearances in many of Hamzah and Martin’s videos.

“So…” He sat down on the couch, motioning for me to sit to his right, “it’s going to real casual, just like it is with Martin. I might ask you a couple questions about your channel, if you want me to.”

I shrugged, “I’m fine with anything, just happy I could help you out.”

Hamzah smiled, handing me Martin’s microphone and looking at the camera. “Well, are you ready?”

I nodded, and he got up and began recording.

“You gotta just sit here for a second awkwardly while the intro music plays.”

A few seconds went by as we tried not to laugh at the silence. I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes flicked down to my thighs, exposed by my mini skirt, every few seconds.

“Hey guys, today I’m here with someone who is not Martin.”

Hamzah motioned to me. I lifted my hand and gave the camera small wave.

“Hi there, I’m y/n.”

“Martin decided to skip recording today to go roller skating with Mandy.”

I giggled, “Well, I think they sort of trapped you into recording without them so you wouldn’t third wheel them for once.”

Hamzah rolled his eyes. We went on and on, talking about how much better I am at rolling skating than Hamzah is, how ice skating isn’t real and it’s all just an illusion because neither of us can even stand up on the ice, and after about 40 minutes, somehow the topic of none other than Ice Spice.

“Munch is an absolute banger, but I’ve never met a dude that actually enjoyed eating it.”

Hamzah furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I went on, “like most of them do it but they don’t like it, which makes it awkward. Like I’m yet to meet a dude that actually gets pleasure out of it too.”

There was a slight pause in the conversation, and I was scared I had made him uncomfortable.

“You’re talking to one right now.”

My cheeks flushed as his comment sunk it. I couldn’t respond, no words would come out of my mouth.

“Sorry,” he looked at me worried, “I totally just made it awkward.”

“Nah,” I shook my head, desperately. My heart thumped as I looked back at him. Maybe I wasn’t delusional about our obvious connection. Why in the world would he make a comment like that if he didn’t mean it in a flirty manner? “it’s okay, really.”

I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. Hamzah’s mouth on my heat, suckling on it like it was his last meal, rubbing my clit with his thumb. I bit my lip. The way he was looking at me showed that he was possibly imagining it too.

He shifted on the couch, looking at me desperately.

“I could show you, if you want.”

I nodded dumbly.

“Please.”

Hamzah leaned in, slowly pressing his lips onto mine. He slowly worked his mouth on mine, growing more and more passionate.

His mouth moved down my body, trailing down my neck. He paused, slipping my shirt and skirt off my body and taking a moment to stare at my breasts.

“God, you’re so beautiful, you know that?” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. “I was so distracted, I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

He rubbed my thighs, looking down at them. It’s like he was mesmerized. “These thighs are so pretty. I couldn’t stop imagining them spread for me.”

Hamzah’s boldness surprised me, but I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy his praises. No matter how lewd they were.

“Can I take these off?” He curled his index finger into the band of my panties.

“Yes” I breathed out, shyly.

Hamzah chuckled to himself, “You’re so cute.”

He pulled my panties off of me, spreading my legs and looking down at my aching heat. Leaning down, he slowly kissed my core. I whimpered at the feeling.

“Tell me you want it.”

I bit my lip, looking down at him with pleading eyes. “I want it. I want it so fucking bad, Hamzah.”

Without further discussion, he dove down into my aching heat, swirling his tounge through the folds. I took his hat of his head with shaky hands and ran my fingers through his curls.

He looked up at me for a moment.

“Do you feel good?” He said quickly, wasting no time to get back to his meal.

“Yes! Yes! So good.” I moaned, my legs involuntarily closing in on his head. His hands held them back in place, spread wide for him to have the fullest access.

“You taste so damn good.” He groaned out. It was entertaining, watching how much he genuinely enjoyed this. He moved his mouth like it was his last meal. I’d never felt this much pleasure just from being eaten out, and it was so sweet.

My brain felt all fuzzy from the way his tounge worked through the folds of my heat perfectly, finding all of the sensitive places and causing my legs to shake under his hold.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” I threw my head back, pure pleasure filling my head as I let out breathy moans.

“Go ahead, cum for me. Cum in my mouth, baby.”

I let myself release on his tounge, my body writhing against his working mouth.

After a few seconds, he pulled away, looking up at me with hopeful eyes, almost like he’d expected me to have had a bad experience.

I didn’t. I had the complete opposite; I couldn’t stop thinking about Hamzah’s tounge.

“Fucking wow.” Is all I could manage to get out.

“Was it good?” He asked.

“More than good. That was… can I please return the favor?”

Hamzah was quick to shake his head, “You really don’t have to. I know most girls don’t like to, and I don’t expect anything in return.”

I genuinely couldn’t let myself live knowing that I didn’t repay Hamzah back after he had me seeing stars.

“No, please, I really want to.”

I couldn’t lie, I’d imagined Hamzah’s cock plenty of times. I’d wondered how big it was, what it looked like, how it would feel in my mouth, what he was like in bed, pretty much everything. But now that I might finally get it, I felt more giddy than ever.

Hamzah slowly nodded, “Alright, go ahead.”

I reached down to his jeans, unbuttoning them as he helped me pull them off his legs, followed by his boxers. His member slapped his stomach, and it surprised me just how hard he was solely from eating out.

It was… big to say the least.

I slowly bottomed him out in my mouth, gagging slightly. He groaned, keeping his eyes on me. I bobbed my head, feeling him hit the back of my throat over and over again.

“Fuck, y/n, just like that.”

I continued these motions, occasionally pulling him out of my mouth and leaving small kitten licks on the tip. He was fighting the urge to throw his head back into the sofa, continuing to keep his eyes glued to me. He breathed out shaky praises to me.

“You’re so good at this, fuck. I- I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum in my mouth… please.” I begged, sucking his faster.

He moaned before filling my mouth with his loud. I swallowed it all before taking him out of my mouth, looking up at him shyly.

“Fuck… that was amazing.”

I giggled as we looked at each other for a few moments. It was crazy, the very things I’d been fantasizing about coming true, all because of a podcast episode.

Fuck. A podcast episode.

My eyes darted over to the recording camera, my cheeks flushing. Hamzah was still looking at me, almost in a hypnotic state.

“Hamzah…” I tried to grab his attention, he hummed in response. “The camera…”

His eyes widened as he looked over, coming to the same realization that I had.

“Fuck- sorry.” He got up, pulling his boxers on and walking over to the camera. “I’m deleting all the footage. You can check afterwards if you want. Recording us really wasn’t my intention.”

He was panicking, his fingers fumbling with the cameras buttons.

“Hamzah… relax. It’s okay. You- nevermind.”

Hamzah looks over to me, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “I what?”

“You can keep the recording if you want.” It felt so lewd to say, but I meant it. It was sort of hot, knowing he had that footage of us and could watch it anytime.

He smirked, looking down at the camera and nodding. “Alright… I will.”

I blushed, “Now can we get that food that you promised me?”

Hamzah chuckled, grabbing his phone.

It was strange, a couple of seconds ago we were performing such lewd acts for a camera we’d forgot was recording, and now we were arguing about whether we should get chinese or mexican take out.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[clrasecretdiary]

Oh no, i love him. Pt. 2 | Spencer Reid x Bestfriend!Fem!Reader

more fluff !!

find part.1 here!

content: Spencer calls reader stuff like "honey" (yes, I am obsessed w pet names), Mutual pining, Reader is an overthinker (just like me fr).

warnings: none

--

The day before, you and the team had finally arrested the unsub that was threatening your best friend. You hoped to get a good night of sleep after one week of horrible nightmares, well that's not what happened. 

Instead, as soon as you lied down, your head now started to remind you of everything that went down the previous day. You and Spencer, what almost happened, the awkwardness during the whole day, how you two basically didn't speak the rest of the day, the way the team were staring at you both… You were scared that your friendship was ruined, scared that everything was a misunderstanding and now Spencer thought you were a creep. 

"Fuck this" You say, accepting that there's no way you would sleep, getting up and heading to your living room to at least watch something to pass time until you had to go to work. 

You turn on the TV, and notice that the channel is playing an episode of doctor who. 

"Very funny universe" You say, it's like Spencer is everywhere around you. The cardigan you stole from him on the coat rack, his favorite book that he annotated for you on the coffee table… You can't escape him, and there's no way you're losing him. 

You watch a couple episodes, a few moments later you look at the time. It's 5:30, you start to get ready, have your breakfast and head out to the office. Besides your attempts, you still arrive early, being the only one already in the office besides… him. 

"Couldn't sleep either? " You say to Spencer taking him out of the focus on his paperwork and setting your things down to your table that was close to his. 

"Yeah, there's a lot on my mind to be honest" He says, looking up at you

"Mine to…" You say, grabbing a chair to sit down next to him. "Spence, we really need to talk. I need to tell you something" 

He does not answer, just maintains eye contact, waiting for you to continue. You take a deep breath, gathering courage It's now or never, you'll never know if you don't ask. 

"Ok, yeah… I love our friendship, I really do, it's like top 5 best things that ever happened to me. I don't know what a would do without you, and if you don't... agree with what I say I really need us to continue the same, I cannot do this job, hell I can't exist without you" 

You take a deep breath, gathering courage It's now or never, you'll never know if you don't ask. "But I don't know if I'm delusional, but there's no way this - You point between you two - is just friendship love. And this felling has been driving me crazy for months now, and I need to know and if you don't feel the same that fine. What do you actually feel for me, Spence?" 

Your heart feels like it's coming out of your chest, the seconds before he answers feel like hours and then he just… Starts laughing

"Fuck you Spencer" You say as you see the man laugh in front of you, you expected that he would not reciprocate your feelings but laugh at them was at another level. 

"No, honey, I'm sorry, it's just… Isn't it obvious?" 

"Not really, Spencer" You roll your eyes at him and cross your arms at your chest 

"Darling…" He says, putting his hands on both sides of your face, looking at your eyes, "I don't think there has been a single day on my life since I met you that I haven't been in love with you" 

As soon as he finishes that sentence, you feel your heart skip a beat and your stomach drop. You lean in and kiss him deeply, and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. You both stand there, embracing each other. You have never felt so loved.

[star-girl69]

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

[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.”

~-~

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

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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)

[romanarose]

Puppet

Boston!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Read on ao3 : TLOU masterlist

Summery: Unable to bear the pain of life without Sarah, Joel burries it and himself inside his favorite doll. His fingers dance along your skin, controlling every move of his precious puppet

or

Something, something, no strings attached?

Warnings: I cannot give a comprehensive list of warnings. Wile no non con or dub con is employed, consider this fic to be open to dark themes including but not limited too mentions of Sarah's death and illusions to Joel suicide attempt, as well as Joel depression and anxiety. Hurt, some comfort??

Sexual content: (again, not comprehensive) Roughish sex but mutual consent to everything. Consider it some free use, he doesnt ask for permission but they have an arrangement. Vaginal fisting, manhandling, rough, sloppy upside down blowjob. throat fucking, gagging, lots of talk about kinda gross stuff like sweat and drool and musk. Ass eating (i know exactly the girlies this is for.) Lots of objectification about reader being a doll/puppet and Joel going a little off the rocker at the end there but I promise reader is having a great time, 10/10

2.5k Words

Told in Joel's POV, still a reader story. Bit of a different story telling mode for me, because it's literally just Joel's inner monologue. He doesn't say anything to you bc he's emotional closed off, but consider anything in italics what he wants to say.

Lil bit of latino Joel <3

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Not when I can’t look you in the eye after bending your sweet body every which way, folding you and molding you into my perfect little creation. It was too dirty, cheap, nasty. We were using each other. That was the arrangement. Still, it was more than a quick fuck. 

It certainly wasn’t quick.

I like you wrecked, drenched, absolutely filthy to look at and so wrapped in pleasure you can’t walk right.

That’s not to say there hasn’t been those moments, times where I shoved you against an alleyway and slammed into your core, times where I know you tastedblood and brick and dirt as you clenched around me and I left you with nothing but scratches on your face and cum dripping down your legs. There have been days you don’t even see my face, only my familiar musk and grunts and warmth signaling you didn’t need to scream when I shove down your pants.

But there are nights like these I much prefer. I can’t say there is much for talking, certainly little for romancing. I’ll feed you if you’re hungry, which is a lot but not always. But you aren’t here for food, are you? You’re here to let go control, to allow yourself to be given over fully to another so that we can, for an hour or two, forget we were living in hell. Forget we were fighting every single fucking day to live. Forget we watched our loved ones die, children in our arms as we scream at God to take us instead.

I can forget when I’m inside you. 

You’re wet, warm, and you don’t ask much of me. You don’t ask for love or companionship, although I’m sure you’d take either if I offered, But I won’t. It’s not personal, it’s not about you. I just can’t give what I don’t have the capacity for anymore.

Still, despite the few words spoken between us I find you at my doorway again and again, begging to be filled by me, begging for it any way I want. You stopped asking me how I wanted you a long time ago, simply getting on the bed after stirpping without much fanfare. I can tell you try to add a little striptease here and there, and I let it slide despite not being a part of directions as long as you don’t get too cocky with it. I don’t need cocky. I need my cute little doll ready for me to play with, ready to take my cock in whatever hole I shove it in, waiting patiently and still for me to wind her up tight.

You looked like a doll too. Your puckered, pretty lips. Your large eyes gazing up at me. Your body so perfectly sculpted to my liking as if you were a dolly spin off of build-a-bear. In another time, I would have dated you, woo’d you, romanced your and waited weeks before sliding inside. I might have said I love you or even put a ring on your finger before I wrecked you, but that wasn’t the Joel I am now. Something inside me died on September 26th, something tha broke my ability to be the kind of man you deserved.

It didn’t stop me from making you gag.

Such a pretty play thing for me. Fuck doll, my favorite toy.

You know I don’t like your hands on me when you suck my dick.

It’s so disconnected I don’t know if I can even call it dick sucking or a blow job, through no fault of your own. You’re enthusiastic, and sometimes I can even see you smiling despite the stretch. No, this is on me. This is how I like it. I fuck your throat as your head hangs off the bed, watching as your body jolts in time to the constrictions of your throat, trying to get air through your nose as you struggle to breath because my balls keep slapping your face and plugging the only other option from oxygen… the undone flannel still covering my arms must tickle your skin. But you never push me off, never tap out, not even when I’m so deep in your lips are buried in the hair at the base of me, not even when I see the tip of my cock prod out your throat, and not when I wrap my hands around your pretty, dolly neck and use you to jerk off like a lifeless fleshlight. 

I pound myself into you, fucking your mouth like I do your sweet, tight pussy, the wet sounds of your saliva spilling out your mouth fill the room, mixed in with the russell of sheets from your writhing body. I like knowing I can make you move like this. You feel like home, you feel like forgetting, you feel like a comfort I can’t get from Oxy or booze or anything other than the sweet release of death. But I can’t take that route, not when I have Tommy to care for. 

If you put your hand on my thigh right now I might cry.

I release from you seconds before cumming, your body heaving to breathe again and I watch the drool run down your face and pool on the floor. I think about shoving your face in the slime and bile as I fuck your ass but that’s not what I need right now, and it’s not what you need either. I’m not selfish. Well, I am, but not with you. I’m cold, I’m mean, but I’m not cruel. I like you too, I like knowing I’m still good for something, that my hands are for more than killing, more than dumbly attempting to stop bleeding from bullet wounds. I like knowing they can be used for the pleasure of a pretty woman.

I don’t tell you where to go, I simply pick you up and throw you fully on the bed, watching as you bounce and shuck off flannel, making quick work of my white, sweat stained shirt. I haven’t showered. You havn’t given me the chance, jumping my bones like a whore begging for a fuck to pay for a meal. I think you like it, honestly. I see the way you look at me when we’re on a work sight together. You like walking away smelling like me, don't you? You like that my sweat had been rubbed all over you like an animal scenting his mate, my cum stuffed inside, my spit still glistening on your puffy pussy. Marking my territory.

You are mine, even if I can’t be yours. Even if I can’t give to you, I’ve taken all you are. If another man touches you, I’ll cut off his dick.

I grab your legs, yanking you so hard you fall backwards on the bed and your legs dangle off the edge..

I can’t tell you how pretty you are, spread out for me like this, awaiting for me to manipulate your body into my desires, mold you like I molded your insides to my cock, split you so fucking open every other limp-dicked lover that manages to stumble his way inside you feels empty. I can’t give you sweet nothings whispered in your ear or dirty encouragement, but I let you know how beautiful I find you as I lick and suck and bite my way down your body. I can’t kiss you, I can’t give you false pretense of what this is. I can’t take care of you after because I can’t look at you. Call it post-nut clarity, but I can’t face you anymore after I’ve destroyed you. Once we're done, the guilt sinks in. I swear to myself I won’t do this again, I won’t break a perfectly nice woman down into pieces when I can’t stomach putting her together again. 

I can’t play with my toys if I can’t fix them.

But soon enough you come knocking, or you’ll make fuck me eyes before slipping into an alley, and I’m ripping you open again. I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame, hating myself and taking my shame out on you. You are the only thing that can distract me from the guilt of watching her die, and nothing can make me give up that sweet reprieve, even if that horror floods my body like a breaking damn as soon as the orgasm subsides. I’ll drown myself in you until I can’t breathe anymore.

Two fingers slip in easily by now. Three is a little more but you take it well. You always do. Four fingers was the most you’d ever taken, and when I add the pinky I hear you choke out a moan, your limbs moving when my hands do. I love how thoroughly I’ve wrecked you, dolly. I love how I can shove all three of my knuckles inside and feel that warmth on my frostbite damaged hands, noting all the details of your flesh on the burned pads of my fingers. 

You move so pretty for me, dolly.

My middle finger curls and your right fist clenches as your gasp. I spread my digits out and your head drops back. I swirl my thumb over your clit I spit on and your toes curl, crying my name. Hell, I move a pinky and your legs spread wider. It’s like I can control you from the inside.

You aren’t a doll after all. You’re a puppet.

My little hand puppet.

I take it further, sliding out my hand enough and reinserting it carefully with my thumb included. You scream my name, gripping the sheets as you bear the pain; I suckle on the sensitive swell between your folds. A promise that the pain will melt into pleasure.

I’ll take care of you, dolly, mi muñequita, mi marioneta, my perfect puppet dancing around for me on the stage of my sheets, twirling, whirling, swirling around in sin and sweat and screams.

A promise fulfilled, you begin whimpering the whiney, filthy needy thing that you are. Dirty puppet at my command, ready to fuck away all my pain burried in your tight cunt. You were burning on the inside, pulsing and drenching my arm as I fisted your hole, creating a fullness no one could give you. Me. Only me. No one could ever turn you into such a slobbering whore and make you look so pretty doing it. I want to leave my imprint, give as much as you could take and not a centimeter less, permanently burning my face in the plush of your thighs to hide the smile at your sounds reaching a fever pitch. The whole apartment knew who you belonged to, that the pretty woman banging on his door at all hours of the day was being fist fucked by the local drug dealer, that the dirt covered worker at the fires would have her face washed clean of soot with her own drool gagging on my cock.

When you come, I feel you in a way I’ve never felt you before. It was like you were swallowing me up, begging for more, dragging me inside. You come hard, legs shaking and I’m sure you’re eyes would be rolled back if they weren't clenched so damn tight. I continue to play you like my guitar, just to see what noises I can pull out of you.

Qué sonidos tan hermosos haces, marioneta

Your body prone and limp, I maneuver your dead weight closer to me. You let me climb on your body, know full well what I’m doing. I see a little smile on your sweet doll face, lying there so compliant and ready for me, your submissive body simple allowing me to degrade you further. I on your face, allowing you full, unfiltered access to my ass that you eagerly devour, the musk and sweat of manhood, of masculinity. Me. I feel your tongue at my entrance, prodding like the good little sex toy you are, always doing what you were made to, controlled by the strings of your hair being pulled down the bed cushion by knees. 

I take your hands, lying obediently at your sides and just like the docile puppet you are, you allow me to control your limbs. I take your wrists, guiding your hands over your gorgeous body. You’re sweet, too sweet, too petty. Dulzura. I pretend I’m painting your skin, a handmade marionette made just to dance for me, to fulfill your purpose of being mine, of bringing mutual pleasure to us both, to feel your master's hand inside you controlling your body and your mind made live at his creation and only meant to think thoughts of me. I let you caressed your breasts, feeling your body, appreciating it as I do.

I cum on your stomach, not even remembering when my right hand dropped yours in favor of my cock. Your body is painted in white and I have the indescribable urge to spread it, to massage it into your skin until it’s as much a part of you as the traumas we’ve both endured. I sit up and off your face in time that a few spurts of my seed tumbles onto your face, and as much as I want to see it, I can’t.

As much as I want to touch your body, I can’t. The high has ended and horrors have begun to creep in, the lurking shadows swirling and dancing on the walls, waiting for me to fall in, waiting for them to take me again, waiting for me to not miss this time. I feel my skin crawl, and I barely have it in to toss my flannel in your direction. Handing you something to clean the firth off you while I dig at my own skin is the least I can do and the most I can manage. 

I turn away from you, digging into my draws in a hurry to pull something on, to cover my shame and hatred in myself while you dress and leave in silence. I usually don’t even hear the door close, a vague reminder in my head that I have to go to lock my door before my stash of oxys and other substances get stolen being the only thing to pull me away from staring at the wall.

My chest feels tight, but this isn’t a new feeling. It’s not a heart attack, not this time. I feel sick to my stomach, guilt for feeling any sort of pleasure, and joy at all is felt in every nerves of my skin, hyper aware of the drafts in his home, the splintered wood of the floor at his feet. In another life, I’d bother sanding it, varshing it, or redoing it all together. Nothing was worth it anymore. My eyes burned. I hope you were gone, fucked full and smiling from a world bending orgasm and not feeling the sickness I feel in myself.

I only realize you’re still there when I feel your sticky skin press up against mine, your bare chest to my back. 

How perfectly your body fits so perfectly to mine, dolly, from every angle.

I turn around, and like a child in a thunderstorm, I hold my doll while I cry.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!

I hope you liked the lil switcharoo ;-; and I know Joel is kinda ooc but i liked it!

I been listening to a lot of erotic audios lately and maybe this is where i get it from lolololol

If you like the doll/puppet kinda vibes but wished I went more into it, @missannwinchester has a great great great series called Plaything !!!!!! Joel is a lil freak and we love that for him!!!! one of those joels that stay in your mind for weeks, you know?

thank you to Alica for helping with the spanish!

tagging those who asked to be tagged and who i thought may enjoy!!!!!!!!! NO PRESSURE AT ALL i know we all got you know. real lives lol.

@pedge-page @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @strang3lov3 @alwaysmicado @hornystan @toxicanonymity @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @justagalwhowrites @femmeanonymelives

[cyber333angel]

PART 2 TO: DBF!TOJI

toji “helping” you study for your upcoming exams !

CAUTION ⚠️

This work contains: usage of daddy, exhibition, praise,riding toji (ofc), p!links, size kink, studying, breeding kink (all the good stuff), itty bitty spanking kink

NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but once again!! I overwrote 🙄 but ass promised here is you riding toji. I hope u enjoy 😉

after the intense night you had with your dads best friend back at your parents house, in your own bedroom to boot, toji and you still “hung out”. you loved the way he made you feel, and the feeling was mutual . whenever he dropped by your house to fraternize with your father he continued to sneak into your bedroom usually to kiss you, reminisce the feeling of you squirming on his fingers and the taste of your cunt, or of how tight your pussy felt clenching around his cock.

“t-toji, I don’t want my parents to-hmph hear m-me downstairs!” he had you on the edge of your bed with your panties pushed to the side . two thick fingers thrusting in and out rapidly like the first time. “maybe if you stopped squealing you wouldn’t have to worry about that sweetheart.” your moans were inevitable with the pace he was going. you were reminded of the wet sounds your cunny made when you heard a “splurt”. mewling, you see toji stunned at the action your wet hole just made. amused he thrust his fingers again and repeats his abuse on your cunt, wanting to see you squirt again. “i-it feels weird toji! please n-no more please!” you reach your hand out to stop him “move your fuckin hand kid.” you flinch at the sternness and he manages to get you to cum again leaving you twitchy and thoughtless. he slides your panties back to fully cover your cunt and pats it , giving you a kiss on the forehead .

for about a week things like that kept happening until you had to go back to your university, it was only 45 minutes away so you weren’t too sad leaving your parents, opting to visit on the weekend sometimes. toji however, felt different and was going to miss the moments between him and his best friends daughter. as you were walking back to your dorm after finishing a class one day, toji called you, telling you he would pick you up for dinner at 6. excited you put on a cute outfit and met him in the parking lot “im so happy to see you to’!” you jump and hug him and he embraced you back, squeezing the fat of your ass “it’s good to see you too pretty girl” he said smiling . the dinner goes well and you end up back at your dorm, living here by yourself ever since you started college, your roommate having never showing up . you were happy with that space and even more happy to be able to have privacy with toji. visits like this happened often, him showing up unannounced and on the same day you falling asleep in his arms. coming into your room in a very grumpy mood your met with the large man sleeping in your bed, the same way you left him this morning. toji wakes up hearing aggravated mumbling from his little fling, “what happened babydoll? what’s with the grumpy face?” you flash him an annoyed look, taking offense he grabs your hand “it’s polite to answer when someone talks to you. now, what happened?” you look up at him feeling bad for the hostile entrance .

“I have exams coming up and nothing is helping me study. i have asked my professors and tried tutors but nothing works! im really nervous to fail this test toj.. it makes up 50% of my grade!” understanding the problem now, getting an idea he wants to help you out, well.. sort of. “i’ll help you study, sweet girl.” toji says smiling, the two of you were facing each other, he sat on the bed while you stood in front of him your arms crossed over his shoulders. “will you really help me to’?” he nods and your just thrilled to be receiving help from your favorite person.

“how is this s-supposed to help-hngh! me study!?” you were in top of him, straddling his lap and about less than halfway down his cock. he’s watching you try to sink yourself into his cock, and rubbing your cheek, reassuringly “baby i already explained it to you, if i say the terms you have to explain them back to daddy alright?”. your not fully listening to him but you nod. “the definition of a “subatomic particle” is what hm?” feeling to overwhelmed you attempt to answer his question “a subat-tomic particle is ugh!” distracted by a thick rod slivering into your cunt, your unable to answer, bringing his hand back he smacks your ass. making you yelp “your not focusing.” as if you can even think about some dumb chemistry question while you were being stretched open..

“daddy m’sorry but I can’t focus! it can’t fit,its too..too big mph please!”

he grabs your ass, lifting you off his lap. you look at him confused and suddenly he slams you down right on his dick, unable to process what just happened, you were now sitting and taking all of his length feeling more than just “full” , it all snaps back to you when he grinds you back and forth on his pelvis, clit feeling sensitive “oh g-god! i feel it in my tummy, daddy!” toji getting more and more turned on from the comment “shiit.” squelches and wet sounds exude from your cunt making you embarrassed plat-plat-plat, toji thrust his hips upward hitting your cervix , placing tou hand on his chest for balance,you can barely form a thought. he was going so fast and he fucking you too good. “I think im gonna cum..!” hearing this he paces faster and reaches a hand out to rub your overstimulated bud “augh that’s t-too much!” you squirm around his cock and he thrust up into “you gonna come for daddy? oh goood girl, y’re doing such a good job me.”

“y’re too fuckin tight..shit” he pumps his load into you filling you to the brim with a groan, toji scoots up and lets you fall backwards onto the bed . he had tired you out instead of helping you study. you whine at him “I think you made a mess in my tummy daddy..” satisfied, he pulls out making you twitch, he watches the semen drip out your abused cunt. it would be a lie if he said he don’t want to go again but seeing how you already fell asleep he waves away the thought. the next morning you wake up and toji isn’t cuddling you like he usually is, your thighs are all cleaned up and your in a new shirt, probably his, but toji isn’t anywhere to be found. five minutes later he walks through the door with a delicious smelling bag of food. “oh g’morning toj! I couldn’t find you.” you hug him at the door “i js wanted to get you something to eat and something else to help you study with.” puzzled you twist your head while chewing on some bacon “flash cards?” you ask him still chewing “yeah babydoll, flash cards, im gonna help you study.”

[demilypyro]

Okay since this doesn't seem to want to go away here's me addressing every single "allegation" that I've heard about. I hope to have at least given a good explanation where the horrible things being said about me came from, and why I consider them either just totally not true or badly misconstrued. Some of my friends have recommended I don't say anything at all, but I've always preferred openness and honesty, so I hope that's appreciated.

I understand that some people will still dislike me even though the things being said about me are not true. That's fine. I don't need everyone to like me, but it's when I'm being consistently harassed and lied about that it interferes with my mental health and ability to work. So I'm gonna try and end things with this.

"She's racist"

From what I can tell this is about one time when I said I keep my interest in anime to myself around new people. I do this because showing you're a Huge Fucking Nerd right off the bat can make a bad impression. I could have said the same thing about Star Trek or comic books, I just happened to be talking about anime in that moment. Someone seems to have misconstrued this as me finding Japanese culture something shameful and lesser than other cultures?... Which I would call a total willful misinterpretation. The rest of this seems to stem just from being Dutch, because the Netherlands is a country that has a problem with xenophobia. This is true, but uhhh I'm mixed myself so I'm pretty well aware of that, and I obviously don't support our infamous "blackface holiday." Just because I live here doesn't mean I agree with everything this country does, be that historically or in the modern day.

"She's friends with racists/misogynists/transphobes"

The only thing I can guess this is about is when I was mutuals with a user called porko-rosso at least 5 years ago and didn't really believe it when people told me they were a bigot. I haven't interacted with this user in over 4 years but people still claim we're like best friends, which was never true in the first place, we just knew a lot of the same people. Most of the resentment from the people who repeatedly spread these rumours about me seems to have started here. So for the record: no, I am not friends with any racists, misogynists or transphobes.

"She thinks she's better than other trans women because she passes better"

This is just not true. This idea seems to pop up just whenever I post about enjoying the benefits of HRT or surgery, but most recently this was misconstrued from a post where I said being trans is about being yourself as much as possible. Since this was in response to someone saying that me trying to pass is "erasing my identity", people thought I meant trying to pass is the same as being good at being trans, which was not what I meant, but some people didn't seem to want to believe me when I clarified. My apologies for the misunderstanding I guess, but that's all it was. So no, I do not hate people who don't pass as well as I do, nor do I think all trans people should be transitioning medically, and I resent the implication.

"She has a secret discord server where she makes fun of pictures of other trans women and calls them slurs"

I had absolutely no clue what this was about when I first heard it. I was sent screenshots that supposedly prove this but all they show is me being rude about someone's appearance one time in january of 2022. I actually thought these were faked because I don't remember this happening and the things said confused me, but one of my friends says she found it was in her server, where she had showed a picture of someone and asked everyone present (mostly other trans women) if they were hot. Apparently I did not think they were hot. So yes, I did insult someone's appearance back in january 2022, but it was an isolated incident. Frankly even I find my remarks in these screenshots distasteful, I don't know what I was on when I wrote that stuff. I'm sorry to that person specifically. What I said has weighed heavily on me and I apologize for it. It's not something I approve of, and don't intend to repeat that mistake. Still, to say it means I hate trans women and I love to make fun of them in my secret discord server and call them slurs is just... a super-villain level of exaggeration. I didn't even know about the word that was named as an example. It's not true.

"She's often rude"

I can't deny this one. Autism gonna autism. I've seen many therapists, doctors, experts, what have you, to try and help me with this, but it seems my particular brand of autistic in combination with the cultural differences between mine and other countries just really often ends with my foot in my mouth when I speak English. I apologize! I have never meant to personally offend anyone. It just keeps happening and I can't stop it from happening.

If after reading all this, you still consider me bad enough to hate my guts, I can't stop you, but I wanted to have at least had my say. I swear that everything in this post is the honest truth as I understand it, and that I've never acted with purposeful malicious intent.

[venusgirltarot]

What Does The Next Chapter Of Your Life Look Like? — [♡] ;

☆ ミ book a personal reading with me ☆彡

Pile One ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Cards: The Hierophant, Page of Swords, Five of Cups, Page of Cups, Nine of Wands, King of Pentacles, Two of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Strength

As soon as I started the reading I started hearing “New Rules” by Dua Lipa in my head. Specifically the chorus where she’s like “one: don’t let him in you’ll have to kick him out again, two: don’t be his friend” and some other stuff before she’s like “you ain’t getting over him” it seems like the next chapter of you life is you putting you first and moving on from a past person. There’s not a lot of this person’s energy or really any at all. I can’t pick up on what exactly happened or why you���re moving on and I think it’s because this person has nothing to do with this next chapter of you life. You’re leaving this person and their energy in the past and not allowing them to be apart of your future and that truly seems to be the best decision you could make for yourself right now.

Some of you may have moved for this person? Maybe the two of you moved to a new place together or this was long distance and you moved to be with them? Maybe for some they moved for work so you relocated with them? Uprooted your life for this person to create a new one together in this new place and it just didn’t work out how you expected. It seems important to let you know that everything happens for a reason. You’re here in this new place for a reason so make the most of it, find that reason. Don’t let this person cou time to hold you back or take this new experience away from you. A lot of you seem to be entering this single era where your main and really only focus is you. You’re doing what you want and living the life you dream of in this next chapter. Living however you like with no fear of other’s opinion or judgment. Your just worried about your own happiness and it will be such a freeing and joyful experience for you. I think you’re about to find this new love for yourself. Even if you’re someone that’s confident and has a good sense of self, you’re about to connect with yourself in a way that you never have before. There’s much more depth here.

Some of you may hear from friends or mutual people that this person wants you back. Maybe they’ll try to reach out but won’t be able to get in contact with you so they’ll have mutual friends try to talk to you on their behalf. It feels very icky to me but not only from this person’s part but also these “friends” something about the energy here doesn’t sit right with me. Make sure to be careful trusting any and everybody and don’t keep people around that don’t want to respect your boundaries. Don’t let this person back into your life and don’t let anyone try to manipulate you back into a relationship with this person. I heard “not deserving of your energy and not worth your time”

This next chapter is about you and your love for yourself. It’s about self respect and kindness towards yourself. It’s setting boundaries and protecting your energy. Drinking more water and getting into a good routine/skin care routine seems significant as well as mint or lemon in your water? And chewing gum? Maybe that resonates for someone. Don’t be afraid to try new things or take classes on something you’ve always wanted to try. Pilates and cooking classes are coming in. Some of you may be wanting to start social media and that would be a good thing to do during this time if it’s something you’ve been thinking about. However if you’ve been wanting to start social media, specifically TikTok/YouTube or both please keep in mind that there are people or maybe like a management company that will want you to sign contracts or manipulate and take advantage of you so be mindful of that. You could blow up around the holidays if you start now and could get offers that you need to be wary of. That’s only if you have the desire to get on social media or have already started trying to build your social media so only take that message if it resonates.

I’ll end this reading by reminding you to be kind and gentle with yourself always 💓 take time to appreciate and truly live in this next chapter of your life because it’s a beautiful one, Pile 1. There’s so many exciting things happening for you.

Pile Two ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Cards: The World, Ten of Cups, The Magician, The Fool, Queen of Wands, Three of Pentacles, Queen of Cups, Strength, Death

Ahhh Pile Two I’m so excited for you!!! So it seems like you’re about to or just have achieved some huge milestone in your education/career. Maybe you’ve just finished school or an internship and now you’re applying to or about to start your dream job/just started your dream job. As far as this job or career goes, it seems you’ll fit in really well and come across and knowledgeable and well experienced by your peers so if that’s something you’re worried about, it isn’t something to worry about at all!

It seems like the biggest and really only concern going into this next chapter is possibly imposter syndrome or feeling like you don’t deserve this career or maybe can’t handle it. Therapy might be something you want to think about/look into. I think having an unbiased professional to tell you that you deserve this position and you’ve earned it because the work you’ve done has paid off. I’m also think routine could be important. A lot of these doubts/fears could come for you late at night so it’s important to go to sleep at a good time and get up in the morning. Keeping a good routine will ensure you’re not up at 3am to stress and overthink. You could have a large workload that can take time to get used to so make sure to take breaks and not overwhelm yourself with too much. Know that if you weren’t qualified, you wouldn’t be in this position and you’re here because you’re deserving of it.

Don’t be afraid to start conversations or get to know your co-workers. I think some of your closest connections can come from them and going out with your co-workers for lunch or after work can be a good way to decompress and ease your stress. I think these connections will also help you find mentors and also realize that you’re not alone in your initial fears and worries surrounding this job.

I think you’ll either start out or work your way up to a leadership role. This is just such a role model leader type of energy I see you in. I think you’ll get very comfortable within a few months (possibly 6-8?) after starting this new career and I think it’s largely in part due to your co-workers and just the overall work environment/vibe. It’s very inviting and leaves a lot of room for mistake and growth. You’ll feel very supported in this new position.

Overall, Pile Two, I think it’s important for you to not put too much pressure on yourself and go into this new experience knowing you’re so loved and supported in this new endeavor. I heard “everything works out for you” 🥺 make sure to give yourself the credit you deserve! Celebrate yourself and all your accomplishments! You’ve come very far, Pile Two, please don’t forget that. You’re deserving of everything good and happy and positive!

Pile Three ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Cards: Five of Cups, King of Swords, King of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, Ten of Cups, The Hermit, Death, Five of Swords, Four of Pentacles, Queen of Cups, Five of Swords, Six of Pentacles, Ten of Wands, Ten of Swords

Okay, Pile Three. So we have a lot to get into here and I want to try to go into as much detail as I can with a general reading. It seems like you’re in a serious long term relationship that might be coming to an end or simply a rough patch. This is where I find it difficult to go in as depth with it being a general reading because I can’t say whether or not your relationship will survive this period because for some it will and others it won’t. I’m curious to see how many of you felt drawn to piles one and three because I feel like there’s going to be some overlap here. I thought I’d make it through this reading without a Taylor Swift song/reference but “You’re Losing Me” by Taylor Swift is coming through SO heavily in this reading and also fits this situation perfectly.

I’m not sure if one of you want marriage/kids while the other doesn’t is part of the problem or maybe it’s a lack of communication, trust, connection, etc. or the two of you just simply growing apart. There’s a strong desire for you to pull through and come out it this rough patch but maybe you’re person doesn’t see any issue at all in your relationship or maybe they just don’t care to fix it. It’s this very frustrating energy of you just hoping, wishing and waiting for this person to see things the way you do and start putting in the effort and desire you need from them.

There’s just a lot of imbalance and miscommunication or maybe no communication at all in this connection and the resentment and anger towards each other is just growing. I heard “at what point do you let go” there’s this feeling of defeat and sorrow. How much longer do you have to fight for a relationship that may not make it anyway? It’s a difficult situation and I know it’s frustrating but the answer to your question is really in your hands. I can’t give you a solid “yes” or “no” or tell you directly whether to stay or go because it seems to be a decision that you need to make for yourself.

Whether you stay or go, I think it’s incredibly important for you to de-center this person and your relationship with them and center yourself. Prioritize yourself and your wants/needs and see how that changes your perspective. Finding yourself and connecting with yourself on a deeper level will help you find the answer to your questions. When you come to a place where you really know yourself and your wants/needs and have enough respect for yourself to only accept the absolute best for yourself, you’ll know whether it’s best to stay or go. Put you first and see where that leads you. Know that you’re deserving of the love you desire and don’t accept anything less. You’re worthy of love, kindness, and care so don’t stay around anyone that can’t offer you those things. I heard “put yourself first and happiness will follow”

Pile Three, I’m very sorry if this message was frustrating or didn’t give you as direct of an answer as you were hoping for but I do hope it provided you with some peace and clarification. Please be kind and gentle with yourself and come to a decision only when you’re ready. Prioritize yourself and your wants/needs and know you’re deserving of nothing less than the absolute best.

[hijackalx]

More headcanon asks for Gale, Astarion, and Gortash! What would their reaction be to their lover pampering them after a rough day? (Talking like preparing their favorite meal, treating to a relaxing bath, that sorta stuff)

GALE

LOVES TO BE DOTED ON SOOOOO MUCH 😹😹 to the point where he will mope and pout if you don’t want to pamper him. since he’s a wizard he gets a lot of bumps and bruises during battles, but he ONLY wants you to fix him up. he’ll look at you with those big ol’ puppy dog eyes, sigh really loudly, then go, “gee, i wish somebody around here cared enough about me to patch up my finger…” and it’s literally over a papercut LMFAO. it’s not that he’s not capable of doing it himself it just makes him feel loved when you do it 😹💗 the type to get a cut on his lip and ask you to kiss it better— also loves to have you sit on his lap while you clean up his face

GORTASH

he’s initially a little put-off by it since he doesn’t want his baby to have to lift a finger EVER !!!! not even for him. besides, he (probably) has servants who are willing to do that stuff, and he doesn’t want to view you as one of his lowly lackeys 😹😹. ALTHOUGHHHH, if you’re persistent enough about it, he’ll eventually let you. i think he’d be more adamant on a mutual kind of pampering though, like washing each other’s hair or giving each other massages (you KNOW this man’s shoulders are TENSE gurl). he really likes when you lay your head in his lap and massage his tired hands— that way he can use the other one to run through your hair 💗😌

ASTARION

THE MOST DIFFICULT when it comes to letting you do this. like he insists that he doesn’t need it or that he’s “fine” but lowkey he does want it 😹😹 he just prefers more subtle acts, like you doing favors for him (offering to wash his dirty/bloody clothes, for example) or listening to him rant/complain about his day. well actually— i guess letting him drink from you could be considered preparing his favorite meal? 🤔 so make sure to offer him your neck after a long day 😹. too much blatant doting on him makes him feel silly (or he gets the crazy idea that you’re doing it because you think he’s weak 👹). honestly just don’t smother him and he’ll live 😹💗

[pigcowboys]

Hi I hope you're having a wonderful day <3

I was wondering if you could maybe do percy jackson with a daughter of nyx where they are basically the same person personality wise and have a lot of common interests ( sorry self indulging here🤭). They basically both kin each other lmao

THANK YOU <3

pairing: ꒰percy jackson x nyx! female! reader꒱⋆·˚

summary: general hcs for percy with a nyx! s/o

warning(s): mutual pining, nonsensical bickering, mentions of injuries & kisses

a/n: HIII OMG THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE :)) i tried my best to do what you requested!! i hope you like it!!

request are closed!

literally off the bat i can see the two of you at each other's throats all the time.

you're just too alike there's no way there's not gonna be bickering man.

"i think we should use a different design."

"who put you in charge?"

"the voices in my head, actually"

"literally what."

i imagine percy kind of being put off by you when he'd first get to camp half-blood like

who are you.

i mean it isn't like he's TRYING to be mean, you're just so annoying sometimes yk.

then i feel like one night he'd sneak out of camp to go stargazing and find you near the shore in his spot.

lowkey annoyed by your presence at first but still proceeds to gaze with you silently. you'd strike up a conversation with him and it'd actually go a lot better than he expected it to go.

okay, maybe you're not that bad.

he'd start to approach you more at camp but like not for any reason at all yk. he just enjoys talking to you, i guess.

probably would be overjoyed when he finds out you have similar interests as him.

you two probably stay up all night talking about the most random stuff.

honestly, those talks are probably the moment when he realizes he..like likes you.

you're just chilling and talking about random shit and he laughs at one of your jokes and has to take a moment because he realized that you're honestly just the best person ever.

and then from that point on he's honestly kind of a mess.

you're so cool to him for some reason?? you'd just be living life and he'd probably just be in the background observing you with big ass heart eyes.

"is there something on my face, perce?"

"huh? uh no, what?"

he knows he likes you but just doesn't know how to say it?? i mean, do YOU even like him back..??

aghhhh it's honestly so draining to him.

he's not shy. just kind of stupid when it comes to feelings.

probably tried to "woo" you somehow by buying you ocean related stuff whenever you go out together.

played it off as him just having some change.

he is willing to go bankrupt for you.

i feel like one day he just got tired of dropping hits and just decided to go for it cause like, you've known each other for a minute.

he'd meet you at that star gazing spot and literally just spill all his feelings for you.

"don't say anything but what if i told you you're an amazing person and probably the coolest person i've ever met in my life and that i'm literally head over heels for you because you're smart and funny and pretty and you're just the best?"

"what?"

and you start dating!! woo!!

HES SO SWEET!!!

once you start dating he def gets a bit more of a confidence boost.

always boasting about the fact he's dating you like everyone else doesn't already now from the way he's always clinging to you.

and if you're not into physical touch no worries!! he's completely and totally fine with it!! probably asks permission to give you hugs and hold your hand.

beach dates.

you'd be that one sappy couple who interlocking hands and walks down the beach together UGHH

he would def be the type of guy to go to you after every quest so you can patch him up. do you even know how to patch him up?? probably not! can't he just use some ambrosia?? yes.

doesn't mean he won't stop.

"percy, what the fuck happened!?"

"what do you mean?? :)"

kind of scared of your mother but would never admit it to your face.

i feel like he'd make some kind of big plan to try and kiss you but it'd ultimately fail.

he'd pull up to you with some beautiful ass flowers with a big grin on his face.

would take you to some really secluded spot that he'd decorated with a bunch of different things and homemade food!! (sally helped him.)

things would be going good till it starts to rain.

not that it's a problem for him at all but it kills the freaking mood.

"i'm so sorry.."

"for what?"

"how this turned out, it was supposed to be this big and..romantic thing."

"it's okay, we can have other dates."

"no like..i wanted us to kiss."

"..."

"..."

"who says we can't right now..?"

"oh."

he's in heaven when you finally kiss for the first time!! you're literally so amazing like wtf he got so lucky.

from that point on you two are locked in for life.

he's everywhere you are, you're everywhere he is NO MATTER WHAT.

he's so in love.

[cinematicnomad]

cinematicnomad's steddie fic recs

i've been reading a lot of stranger things steddie fics over the past 2 months so i've decided it's time for me to make one of my requisite fic reclists, both for myself, and for anyone else interested. here's my usual reminder that i prefer lengthy fics, and that i am also a sucker for canon divergent fics (which basically all of these are bc eddie is alive post s4 obviously unless it's a time loop fic—if i tag a fic as "canon divergent eddie lives", assume this means the fic is compliant through the end of s4 except for eddie's death) and happy endings. all these fics are complete, though it's possible that if the fic is part of a series the series may not be complete. i will try to always add appropriate tags!

T = teen M = mature Ex = explicit NR = not rated

bracing for impact by writersagainstwritersblock (1/1 | 9k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; wayne POV; steve has bad parents; outsider POV

wayne watches as eddie falls hopelessly in love, with of all people, goddamn steve harrington.

it's not a big deal by aidaronan (1/1 | 11k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; mutual pining; angst w/ a happy ending

eddie survives, but his entire life is locked away in the upside down forever (his books, his dnd stuff, his guitar.) everything that wasn't on eddie when steve carried him into the ER, gone. so naturally steve starts giving him things. handing eddie back those little outward markers of who he is.

you oughta know by thisapplepielife / @thisapplepielife (1/1 | 12k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; future fic; angst w/ a happy ending

days stretch out, long and slow. steve tries to ignore the only thing he’s sure of: eddie ran. he ran from him, ran from all of them. or: steve's having a rough couple of years, thanks for asking. compliant fic: i'm brave, but i'm chicken shit (1/1 | 13k+ | M) eddie POV; eddie centric; 1990s; recreational drug use

introduced me to my mind by alchemystique (2/2 | 16k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; mutual pining; getting together; happy ending

"eddie," wayne says, and eddie fights the urge to scream, or laugh, or cry. "i'm not running," eddie tells him, even though that is a fucking lie. "you should call him more," wayne says, and eddie rubs the meat of his palm into his eyeballs until he sees stars. doesn’t think about what 'call him more' means in context—do they talk about him? series: sweet leaf (4/4 | 16k+ | T) outsider POVs; rockstar!eddie; period typical homophobia

steve harrington's guide to making it work by eggbertsheggbert (8/8 | 23k+ | NR) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; bad harrington parents; steve is kicked out; angst w/ a happy ending

steve harrington has never been good at asking for help. especially not since he started being seen as the protector of the group. so, when his parents kick him out after discovering his sexuality, he figures he can get extra shifts, save up, and get a place before anyone realizes anything is wrong. join steve as he takes on the weight of the world. he's got it figured out, he's definitely NOT struggling, and—above all else—he can make this work.

the power of love by lacerta26 (8/8 | 27k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; outsider POVs; series; post-canon; coming out

jim gets mostly to the end of the house and then someone speaks. "i came out here for a smoke," eddie, his voice low, hushed. "yeah, but this is much more fun," steve now, almost laughing but not quite. * jim had only stepped out for a cigarette when he learns something new about steve and eddie and if this was one of the boys bringing home a girl, he’d have the exact stern words to make sure they were being a gentleman but his usual shovel talk isn't quite going to cut it because he has to let them know it's fine, more than fine, for them to be who they are, here. 

hands where i can see them by SolarMorrigan / @solarmorrigan (12/12 | 29k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; multiple POV; established relationship; emotional hurt/comfort

eddie thinks that he and steve have a good thing going; being friends with benefits is honestly a pretty sweet deal. steve is a great friend, the sex is great, everything is great. except for the fact that steve hadn't realized they were only friends with benefits. except for the fact that steve thought they were in a relationship. except for the fact that eddie doesn't realize how much he'd valued that relationship until it's gone (and he's trying his damnedest to get it back).

it's alright if you love me by alivingfire (7/7 | 31k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; outsider POV; character study; 5+1; steve-centric; hurt/comfort

"oh, haven't you heard? steve harrington doesn't cry." in which steve harrington breaks up, breaks a few hearts (including his own), breaks free, and finally gets to break down. or: 5 times steve didn't cry, and 1 time he did.

off the beaten path by pukner (6/6 | 34k+ | M) canon divergent post s3; alternating POV; queer awakenings; cliffhanger ending (must read sequels)*

"i'm saying this," says steve, loudly, cutting him off, "because someone i love is, uh, gay. and i love them, but like, platonically. and also me calling you a queer might've been a little hypocritical, in retrospect." there is a long, baffled pause. "what," says jonathan, "steve, are you—are you coming out to me?" steve frowns, "oh, yeah, i guess i am. cool." or, post season 3, steve manages to figure out that he's bisexual, despite his best efforts to repress it, comes out to robin and jonathan byers of all people, and figures himself out. also, there's a cute guy who might be actually insane running the kids' dnd club and he's got his eye on him. and his bandana. too bad eddie munson hasn't had a similar revelation. he's still under the impression that he's a straight man obsessing over steve harrington for normal, extremely heterosexual reasons. OR: steve figures out he's bi before eddie figures out that he's gay. eddie still manages to fall first. series: *off-script (2/2 | 67k+ | Ex) eddie POV; internalized homophobia; mutual pining

a tattoo is worth a thousand words by writersagainstwritersblock (18/18 | 40k+ | M) canon divergent post s3; eddie POV; babysitter steve harrington; getting together

"ambidextrous, princess, it’s what makes me so good with my hands." eddie wiggled his fingers. "you mean for guitar?" steve asked, completely missing the innuendo, and also nearly knocking eddie flat at the thought that steve harrington knew he played guitar. "you stalking me or something?" eddie asked. steve frowned. "uh, no, but your band played in the middle school talent show, it's pretty hard to forget a thirteen year old screaming death metal before his voice dropped." eddie almost laughed at that. almost. "you saying i'm unforgettable, princess?" "if that’s how you want to take it, munson." eddie realized this was turning towards something far more dangerous than taunting a boy known for getting into fights, like flirting with a very, very straight boy known for getting into fights. OR after the events of season three steve shows up on eddie's doorstep asking for a tattoo... and then keeps showing up much to the dismay of eddie's traitorous heart. sequel: visible ink (12/12 | 57k+ | M) outsider POVs; firefighter!steve; tattoo artist!eddie; found family

the one in which a time loop is fucking exhausting. by badpancake (12/12 | 41k+ | T) canon compliant; time loop; steve POV; temporary character death; suicide; angst w/ a happy ending

it’s the first time in a while that he doesn’t know what comes next. he’s dove into the water hundreds of times. screamed as his flesh was torn apart, heard master of puppets in the distance and held back tears. felt max’s cold, small hand in his as she laid in the hospital bed. there are things that always happen, no matter how hard he tries: el doesn’t arrive in time. eddie dies. max is put in a coma. steve fails. they lose. "steve, how many loops have you been through?" his head is nodding, and his eyes are watery, and eddie has approached him like a spooked animal. "i lost count.” AKA: the one where steve harrington is stuck in a time loop, and eddie munson is really fucking hard to save, or: fuck volume 2, these bitches are in love.

steve the reluctant by rachtay13 (7/7 | 46k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; oblivious steve; steve plays dnd

robin raised her brows.  "you know what, harrington?" she nodded her head. "yeah, you know what? i dare you to make a friend. i dare you." read for steve in denial, excessive d&d gameplay, robin as a mermaid, and eddie's glinting rings. as one reader said "the most frustratingly dense version of steve i have ever read and i am HERE for it."

you're so fucked up and i love it by genericfanatic (18/18 | 54k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; eddie POV; accidental relationship; hurt/comfort

eddie munson hated steve harrington. he'd apparently saved his life, dragged him out of hell and got him to a hospital while nancy rushed behind him working on alibis and half truths to prove he couldn’t have murdered chrissy. and here he was, doomed to live for the foreseeable future, in debt forever to steve fucking harrington. but eddie really hated how normal steve fucking was.

where do we go from here? (quietly fading away) by allandmore (9/9 | 60k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; angst w/ a happy ending; non-graphic violence

"what's scarier than saving the world? figuring out what to do afterwards. i get it," eddie turns on his side, one shoulder on the wall, and grips the front of steve's shirt. His face is so close steve can feel the warmth of his breath. "but we've got time now. right, steve? we bought us all time. time to figure all our shit out. isn’t that what matters?" OR steve harrington struggles to find purpose after the upside down. (but maybe purpose doesn't have to be big. maybe it's helping dustin navigate sophomore year. maybe it's reminding robin to send in college admission letters. maybe it's eddie munson. maybe).

star of the masquerade by glorious_spoon (6/6 | 64k+ | M) canon compliant; eddie POV; time loop; temporary character death; angst w/ a happy ending

steve jerks awake, sitting up so quickly that robin almost topples over and staring wildly around the room. when his gaze lands on eddie, he blanches visibly. "oh, shit," he mutters. "come on, no. come on. not again." "harrington?" eddie asks slowly. he does not love the way that steve is staring at him right now. he really doesn’t. steve looks like he’s staring at a ghost, a bloodied monster, like eddie is something that should not exist in the light of day. "you good, dude?"

one size fits all by entanglednow (10/10 | 65k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; fake/pretend relationship; misunderstandings; slow burn

steve just wanted to do something nice for a friend, he doesn't mean to get eddie's ring stuck on his finger, and it's definitely not his fault that everyone he knows is jumping to conclusions.

renegades (leave a light on) by queerofthedagger (13/13 | 66k+ | Ex) canon divergent s2; eddie POV; road trip; slow burn; strangers to lovers

eddie doesn't expect to get into trouble for his recent drug business, although he probably should have. even less does he expect steve harrington of all people to save his sorry ass with a nail bat that looks awfully at home in his hands. least of all, though, does he expect harrington to insist on skipping town for a while to avoid the fallout. the winter holidays of '84 seem intent on proving him wrong on all fronts. thrown into a spontaneous road trip-slash-cut-and-run to san francisco—just until things back home blow over, munson—eddie has all the time in the world to confront such questions as: why would harrington care to help him? why does he wake up from nightmares more often than not? and, maybe most importantly, why is the former king so ready to leave hawkins behind on a whim? or: idiot boys make impulsive idiot decisions, and along the way—reluctantly but inevitably—they fall in love. a story of endless winter streets, finding family, and leaving home to find a new one.

falling without caution (people watching) by super_skam310 (10/10 | 66k+ | NR) canon divergent eddie lives; eddie POV; slow burn; eventual happy ending

steve harrington is a man that demands your attention; whether your give it willingly or not is inconsequential. eddie's camp tended to be in the latter category. OR eddie's borderline obsessive watching of steve spanning from steve's freshman year to season 4, culminating in the unfortunate realization that the king had been dethroned the moment nail bat hit monster flesh and that maybe steve harrington was lovable all along.

in the margins by foxy_mulder (4/4 | 70k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; angst w/ a happy ending; suicidal thoughts; hurt/comfort

steve is having a hard time adjusting to the new normal, after everything that went down. he doesn't want to bother his friends with his problems, though, when they've got so much weight on their shoulders already. steve stumbles on an alternate version of hawkins, where none of it ever happened. everyone’s alive, his headaches are gone, his friends actually want to hang out with him, and he’s…happy. (the party has to fight another monster. but this one doesn't prey on people's fears. it preys on their deepest desires.)

skull rock era by chattrekisses (11/11 | 71k+ | Ex) canon divergent s2; steve POV; slow burn; internalized homophobia; fix-it

steve harrington never planned for eddie munson. steve was supposed to marry his high school sweetheart, have 2.5 children, and take over the family business. he was supposed to live a blissful life on a nondescript cul-de-sac, complete with a white picket fence and a closet full of tasteful polo shirts. he was supposed to make a graceful transition between being the golden boy and being the american dream. mediocrity was what destiny had designed for steve. reality had other plans. (or, steve and eddie, against all odds, fall in love.)

roll for seduction by spikeisthebigbad (37/37 | 74k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s3; steve POV; steve plays dnd; fix-it

when steve reluctantly agreed to play dungeons and dragons with the hellfire club he expected to hate every second. he did not expect to spend his friday nights flirting with eddie munson. what if eddie and steve were dating during season 4? starts after season 3, and eventually ventures into season 4. not canon compliant.

in over my head by staymagical (16/16 | 75k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; head trauma; temporary amnesia

one moment, steve is entering his room, ready for bed, and the next he's in forest hills staring at a very confused very concerned eddie and the run-down remains of the old munson trailer. three hours later. thus begins a secret shared between friends, steve leaning on eddie as they try and understand and navigate this new terrifying post-concussion symptom of steve's. with vecna dead and the gates closed, it can only be steve's own scrambled brain giving up on reality. it's a race against the unknown, trying to find answers and search for solutions before it happens again and steve isn't sure how long he can keep pretending he is alright when he is anything but.

leave the light on sometimes all night by anniebibananie (7/7 | 78k+ | M) au—no upside down; steve POV; hurt/comfort; slow burn; eventual smut

june 1986 steve is lonely. he’s always been lonely, honestly. an empty house, absent parents, friends that didn’t really know him. frankly, he probably doesn’t really know himself, either. it used to be easier to ignore—between sports and parties and searching for the next girl to hang around with. then nancy wheeler told him he was bullshit. in the wreckage of the storm, he realized she probably hadn’t been that off base to call his life bullshit. [life in hawkins, indiana is boring, ordinary, no supernatural entities. steve still changes. luckily, he still makes some new friends, too. certain people are simply meant to be in the same story.]

the lathe by palmviolet (13/13 | 82k+ | M) canon compliant; steve POV; time loop; fix-it; angst w/ a happy ending; implied self-harm

"this time, do it right. this time eddie won’t bleed out in his arms, in anyone’s arms. this time, steve will do it right." — or, steve relives the day they try to kill vecna over and over, and eddie just can't seem to stop dying. steve finds this totally unacceptable. sequel: disaster / lucky (1/1 | 7k+ | M) coda; eddie POV; implied/referenced self-harm; trauma recovery

it's got what it takes by rose235b (20/20 | 83k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; friends to lovers; slow burn

“i can walk you to your car if you need to go though.” eddie’s hand stopped moving. robin’s eyes snapped towards steve as if it wasn’t a nice thing to offer. “i’ll just maybe grab the vest so i can leave it for tomorrow.” he was undeterred though. if he could help eddie munson after the worst period of his life by literally just walking, steve would walk across the entire state of indiana. eddie looked back at him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to search for something on steve’s face. “okay.” it came out softer than steve was used to eddie being. steve's on his never ending quest to make up for past mistakes. eddie's post-vecna mess of a life seems like the perfect place to start. - or, two idiots fall in love very slowly to the tune of 80s music.

(something happens and i'm) head over heels by gibbouslunation (11/11 | 94k+ | T) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; head trauma; angst w/ a happy ending

eddie made a strangled disbelieving noise, expression flickering. "you are not apologizing to me right now, for like, feeling a normal way about stuff. i can’t believe you." steve pushed a shaking hand through his hair. his heart rate no longer in his ears meant he felt he could at least think a little more clearly. "maybe it was the heat. doesn’t always have to be something messed up, right?" eddie gave him a placating nod. "sure, heat exhaustion is a helluva thing." it had been happening a lot recently. the…forgetting. zonking out. whatever. he was pretty sure he was just extra exhausted, it had been a few weeks since everything but it might have just been the adrenaline or something finally wearing off. sometimes it was like he just forgot someone was speaking, or couldn’t remember for a moment what they’d been talking about. like blinking out of a fog maybe. it does not get better, in fact, it actually continues to get worse.

water closet by stillmadaboutpetra (7/7 | 103k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; found family; slow burn; character study

steve's heard that a lot of life changing conversations usually happen in the kitchen or on the porch, but in his experience, it's the bathroom. a series of bathroom conversations (plus a whole lot of everything else) that slowly change steve, and his little world, in the wake of surviving vecna.

burned on the pyre by oklahoma (13/13 | 105k+ | Ex) canon compliant; steve POV; time loop; temporary character death; angst w/ a happy ending

"i’m gonna save your life, eddie munson." - caught in a time loop created by eleven where he is forced to relive the same day over and over, steve has to come up with a plan to kill vecna entirely while also making sure eddie and max don’t lose their lives in the process.

the beat has just begun by forgetthemoon (12/12 | 106k+ | M) canon compliant; steve POV; period-typical homophobia; fix it; slow burn

vecna dies. so does eddie. the world doesn't split open. in the aftermath, steve goes home to an empty house. well. almost empty. steve sighs, hanging his head. one more thing. then he can go to bed. the dirty towel can wait until later. he tosses it towards the bathtub without looking and turns to the sink, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste. when he looks in the mirror, eddie's staring back at him.

lonely is the night by intrajanelle (23/23 | 109k+ | T) canon divergent post s2; canon rewrite; eddie POV; hurt steve; angst w/ a happy ending

harrington had fallen, splayed in front of his preppy little beemer, like the jock equivalent of a fallen fucking angel. eddie, not having thought this through, watched harrington’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and said, "well, crap." or: post-season 2, eddie and steve get to know one another.

i can give you a heartbeat by soupbitchin (14/14 | 113k+ | T) canon compliant; eddie POV; ghost!eddie; happy ending; fix-it

being dead isn’t like eddie thought it would be. for starters, he’s a lot more alive than he expected. or, the ghost of eddie munson’s still hanging around, and he’d really appreciate if someone could notice him, thanks.

the end is here (and we do it a hundred times over) by placebythering (13/13 | 125k+ | M) canon compliant; steve POV; time loop; temporary death; suicide; angst w/ a happy ending

steve jolts awake, staring up into the dull beige of the camper’s ceiling. there’s a distinct brown stain, likely from a leak. the cushion of the back seat is hard against his back, and if he strains he could hear yelling and laughing from the outside. he wonders if he’s finally lost his fucking mind. —or, steve relives the day of the end over and over again.

caught in the middle, helpless again by margosfairyeye (14/14 | 131k+ | Ex) canon compliant; eddie POV; time loop; angst w/ a happy ending; canon-typical violence

fuck, eddie has been here before. the deja vu was bad enough but this is like, double, this is like deja deja vu or deja vu vu or something, this is unprecedented shit here. and eddie knows what comes next, knows like the roiling ache in his stomach that they’re going to go in, go though the portal and into the upside fucking down and didn’t they already do this? -- -- eddie loops through the time from lover's lake to his death, over and over again.

blood, love, and rhetoric by sourpastels / @lesbiansidney (18/18 | 143k+ | M) canon compliant; alternating POV; eddie lives; canon typical violence; accidental roommates

eddie believes three core things about the art of performance. 1. all the world's a stage. 2. performance is both a weapon and a shield, he wields it as both. and 3. you can’t act death. to quote stoppard: “it’s not gasps and blood and falling about—that isn’t what makes it death. it’s just a man failing to reappear, that’s all…” and eddie had gasped and bled and fell about, and was foolish enough in that moment to believe that was death. but he forgot a crucial step: he reappeared. or: steve is taking it day by day, flitting between the high school and the hospital and hopper’s cabin, locking any thoughts of eddie munson away at the back of his mind. meanwhile, eddie is just trying to get out of the upside down, with nothing but a nail-shield and the world's worst company.

sleight of hand by smithereen (19/19 | 143k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s2; alternating POV; internalized homophobia; slow burn

steve needs a weed dealer. he gets a bit more than that. (this is an AU set a couple months after the snow ball in season 2.)

take the money and run by thisapplepielife / @thisapplepielife (22/22 |143k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; road trip; getting together; future fic

"rules. like, there’ll be no eating in my car. you're not driving my car. no heavy metal," steve keeps listing, "you’re not picking up women and fucking them in m—" "i'll try to control myself," eddie interrupts with a quip, a smirk. fucking girls in steve’s car, or anywhere else for that matter, isn’t going to be an issue, unless something pretty fundamental shifts in him. steve continues, completely ignoring eddie, "you’ll wipe your feet. you're not dragging dirt all over my car. no hitchhikers. no cutesy road games. no smoking in the car. i'm not paying for all the gas." "ass, gas or grass, got it," eddie says, like he's taking this very seriously. he is not taking this seriously. or: road trip!

if your heart surrenders by asbealthgn (39/39 | 163k+ | Ex) canon divergent pre-s1; alternating POV; slow burn; secret relationship; angst w/ a happy ending

“that one’s on the house, okay?” eddie says, and steve opens his eyes to look back down at him. on his face is the slightest hint of concern, and something else steve can’t place. he’s still holding his hand. "thank you," steve says. he’s not sure exactly which thing he’s thanking eddie for, the weed or the hand in his or the lack of judgment at his fucked up head. he just knows that he’s grateful. eddie gives him a smile, a gentle curve of those pretty lips. "anytime, harrington."

tuesday's gone with the wind by thisapplepielife / @thisapplepielife (9/9 | 184k+ | Ex) alternate universe – no upside down; eddie POV; rock band; drug use; plane crash

corroded coffin's leased plane went down on june 13th, 1995 in the woods of louisiana. ten people on board died. eddie munson survived. before he survived, he really lived. companion series: wildflowers...and all the rest (15/15 | 151k+ | Ex) gareth POV; original female character; one shots; growing old; slice of life

gossip by jcmadgirl (11/11 | 213k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; pre-canon; sexual assault; angst w/ a happy ending

steve's whole life story, told through multiple snapshots of the events that made him into the person that he is today. or, a rewriting of stranger things from steve's POV.

i never did believe in miracles (but i've a feeling it's time to try) by cuoredimuschio (26/26 | 215k+ | M) canon divergent eddie lives; multiple POV; slow burn; mutual pining; getting together

eddie is beginning to think that, somewhere in the helter-skelter of surviving the upside down, being swarmed by possibly rabid but definitely rancid demobats, and charbroiling vecna’s slimy ass, he accidentally tripped through the wrong gate and landed in an alternate dimension. well, a different alternate dimension than the one he was already in. because steve harrington is flirting with him.

vignettes of lost connections by hardlyhalcyon (halcyonfrost) (50/50 | 229k+ | Ex) canon divergent pre-s1; alternating POV; secret relationship; angst w/ a happy ending

steve harrington and eddie munson had met long before dustin henderson dragged steve down to reefer rick's cabin. hawkins wasn't a huge town, and there was only the one high school, but the two were never friends. didn't even like each other. in all their darkest moments however, they somehow found company together. or the one where steve has depression, eddie becomes his safe space, and when eddie encounters battles he can't fight, steve reminds eddie of his own strength. a pre-/peri-/post-s4 fic with steddie before s4 events, continuing through and after.

as the world falls down by daeneryske (36/36 | 245k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; steve POV; bad harrington parents; period typical homophobia; angst w/ a happy ending

after saving eddie from the upside down, steve hides him at his house while the party concocts a plot to clear eddie's name. what steve doesn't expect is how much he likes hanging out with eddie as they get to know each other. under the looming shadow of the mind flayer threatening to destroy hawkins, steve and eddie realize they're each grappling with their own darkness, from steve's father's impossible expectations to eddie's feelings of worthlessness. their friendship develops into something more even as the party prepares to fight Vecna and his monsters one last time. steve must decide if he's ready to shrug off the rigid roles assigned to him and become his own person. eddie must learn to embrace what steve has been trying to show him every day since nearly dying: that he's worth saving.

nothing else matters by bigskyandthecoldgun (31/31 | 279k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s2; steve POV; secret relationship; period typical attitudes; everybody lives

"you ask a lot of questions about me," steve tells him. "because you're interesting," munson says, quiet and honest. "you're a lot different than what i've heard." steve hums, eyes closed. "yeah," he says, eyes fluttering open when munson takes the joint from him again, "you are, too." or: steve ditches the prom to get high.

since you've gone (i've been lost without a trace) by steddieeddie (7/7 | 300k+ | M) canon divergent s4; multiple POV; comatose steve; grief; angst w/ a happy ending

may 31st 1986, two weeks until graduation. robin, eddie, and nancy are all set to walk across the stage, eddie being given a free pass after the whole ‘almost framed for murder’ thing. the three have been trying to be excited about their graduation, but it feels almost mundane to be excited when steve wouldn’t be there. they would be sat out on a football field in the blistering heat while waiting for their names to be called, with dustin and max in the crowd, cheering them on in steve's place. there would be fake smiles plastered to all their faces, no matter how realistic they tried to make them. none of them have genuinely smiled since steve got vecna'd. sixty-five days. steve had been in a coma for sixty-five days. the doctors keep telling the party that it doesn't look good, that steve's injures had been severe, and that they didn't know if, when, he would wake up. but they refused to lose hope. he'll wake up. it's just a matter of time. OR five times steve harrington didn't wake up, and one time he did.

the most dangerous thing (is to love you) by brokebeatle (21/21 | 304k+ | Ex) canon divergent eddie lives; alternating POV; shared trauma; slow burn; period typical homophobia  

"i know you care about what those little twerps think of you, and i can assure you they think way too highly of you," eddie says with a wink, and steve gives a half-hearted smirk for just a moment. "but look…i know i can’t ask you to stop worrying about those kids, so how about this? you worry about them, and you let me—actually let me—worry about you." steve pushes his hair back, and yet again, gravity instantly pulls it back down, since he’s looking at his feet. "…i don’t need anyone to worry about me." "too fucking bad. someone’s gotta do it, and it’s gonna be me." "why?" steve replies with a raspy laugh, shaking his head slowly. "why? why." eddie crosses his arms tightly across his chest, knocking his foot into steve’s again with a bit more strength. "because we’re friends, dipshit." —in which eddie's got a reason he's been planning on leaving hawkins since long before the world almost ended. the only thing keeping him in town at this point? his promise to be friends with steve harrington. and eddie doesn't break promises.

the man that i could be by ohstars (26/26 | 325k+ | Ex) canon divergent post s3; steve POV; secret relationship; period typical homophobia; angst w/ a happy ending

"steve harrington isn't straight. it's been a few weeks since he sat on that bathroom floor at starcourt with robin, where she shared her biggest secret with him and unintentionally unlocked an entirely new side of steve. since he’s had to come to terms with being open to exploring that side of him, but he's finally acknowledged that he's most likely, definitely, without a doubt into guys." -- after coming to terms that he may be queer, steve harrington does a little exploration on his own and meets the one and only eddie munson. just as things are going well and accepted the fact he's falling for eddie in their own little bubble, steve's world is shaken by a tragedy he can't quite talk about. and when the dust settles and he's nearly ready to put the pieces back together, his worlds collide when he realizes his eddie is the same eddie playing D&D with the kids. the same eddie who's now wanted for murder thanks to another upside down monster. how will he save the day when he can barely focus watching his ex mingle with his monster fighting team? series: the men we've become (4/4 | 45k+ | M) future fics; alternating POVs; domestic living

[flownwrong]

chaotic ckr c6d squee propaganda (?) post

This, started half a year ago for @ds30below, was initially a general c6d short reviews post but kinda skewed majorly towards CKR's repertoire and wasn't too review-y. So I gave up on making sense and on including the non-CKR works. I don't know who the audience for this is, because I never give basic details for people who don't know about this stuff but say too much for those who do. I giffed what I could and tried to avoid what I know a lot about but haven't actually seen. Here goes.

Frank's Cock (1993)

Not much to say. It's only 8 minutes, it's beautiful and you should see it if you haven't. I won't spoil the subject, but you can likely guess. Watch it, cry a little. Then go watch some more of Mike Hoolboom's stuff, the vimeo link above is from his channel.

Two X-Files episodes (1994 – 1995)

Well, I haven't actually seen X-files since I was about fifteen and watched the like two seasons, and I remember none of it. I rewatched the two early episodes CKR appears in and they were fun. I did not watch the, the movie or whatever where he's doing the evil gay thing. But really, this one is on the list so I can show you this self-indulgent gif of him being Very Long:

Double Happiness (1994)

You shouldn't watch this one for CKR. I mean, you absolutely should see him here, looking like he's barely out of his teens and playing up the insecure act and having devastating chemistry with devastatingly beautiful Sandra Oh, but this is not why it's great. And it's really, really great. It's touching and funny and sincere. If you wanna have some feels about complicated family relationships and identity and growing up (at any point in life), you'll find them here.

Curtis's Charm (1995)

Don't regret watching it, can't recommend. Not gonna lie, I was emotionally affected. But I usually am by things as in-your-face bleak as this. Mostly, it's trying very hard to be smarter than it is, I think.

However: CKR's One Wild Curl is everything to me (see above, on the right. It was, like, actually curly. I was rendered speechless). And like two seconds of Hugh Dillon made me do a double-take, lol. Incredibly weird knowing this was shot like half a year before HCL began shooting. Feels like it must've been a decade earlier.

Hard Core Logo (1996)

I could make three separate posts about this one, so of course I have no idea what to say.

This one, you should watch for CKR, actually, he's something, but so is every single other aspect of this film. I wouldn't change a thing about it. It hits you like a 16 wheeler. Perfectly cast, unimaginably beautiful, hysterical and melancholy and disgusting and compelling.

Related recs:

A wonderfully fun article/retrospective/interview for its 20th anniversary a while back.

You should also absolutely read Hard Core Roadshow if you enjoyed the film. It's a book documenting the whole thing from conception to release. It touched me for its own sake, not just a backstage glance, full of love for the craft and the people and carrying this tangible bittersweetness about the heightened and fleeting nature of this kind of work.

(here, I feel compelled to include a quote from another c6d-related interview on Slings & Arrows, which I read after the book and went like man, it's really a universal experience isn't it.

Coyne: <...> But I also think, and this is my experience, what we were all experiencing, because we were all talking about our lives, our life in the arts — there’s something very melancholy about doing something you love, because it will never be good enough, it will always break your heart.

McKinney: Or it will be fleeting.

Coyne: It’ll be fleeting. You come together with people you feel passionately connected to and two weeks later they’re tearing down the sets.)

Quotes from the article and the book respectively include:

McDonald: So there was a kind of mutual dependency society with Hugh telling Callum, “Don’t worry, man, I got your back, I’ll tell you how high or low to wear your guitar, I’ll tell you how you should dress, I’ll tell you what you should drink…” and Callum was like, “I’ll tell you what hitting your mark is, I’ll tell you why they pull out fucking tape measures, I’ll tell you why you have to do it again, I’ll tell you about not overlapping dialogue..” and you know they clung to each other, like the other one was gonna fucking save them.

And:

A final gathering at the back of the tour bus with Bruce, Callum, Hugh, Bernie. We listen to the tape of HCL songs, all the way through, one last time. And we belt the words out. Bernie sings loudest, performing for Salerno's camera. Hugh and Callum sit back, looks of sadness. I get the sense that if they could do it, they'd chuck their lives and be Joe Dick and Billy Tallent forever. Callum leans to Bruce and says exactly what everyone else is thinking: "I don't want it to end."

There's much more to both texts than *gestures* the whatever those two had, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

And Xeriscape is the best HCL fic I've read. Granted, I read very few because it's not a source that creates in me a craving for fic. But this one perfectly matches the film's fucked up beauty with its language while also adding a quieter, more fraught layer of humanity that we only get glimpses of in canon and that perfectly fits John. 10/10, would recommend.

Anyway. Watch it. Read it. If you haven't. Otherwise, come scream with meeee! And go reblog my gifs or something. Idk.

Letters From Home (1996)

Mike Hoolboom strikes again, with another short. This goes into the "don't watch it for CKR, watch it because it's great" box. Yes, you will cry.

For Those Who Hunt The Wounded Down (1996)

Another bleak one! It sucked to watch, I mean, on purpose. There were a couple of very effective scenes. I really enjoyed the opening. They say the book is decent too, I haven't checked that out.

Actually, let's just switch back from coherent thought to undignified staring at his mouth with this one. What the fuck is that cigarette thing. I couldn't help myself.

Last Night (1998)

These gifs are not representative of the whole movie. There is more happening than CKR kissing or hugging people. He's also doing more than just kissing and hugging. It's all very... impressive.

Guess who's also here again? Sandra Oh! And say hi to Don McKellar, who is an absolute champion for writing/directing/starring. You'll be seeing more of him.

Another one for the "watch it for its own sake" box. Seriously, that late 90s indie stuff is banger after banger. It's so beautiful! Look at those colours! Look at those shots! It's very uneasy and charming and melanchioly and itself in the best way.

Twitch City (1998 – 2000)

Don McKellar is back to murder you with discomfort! Bruce McDonald lends a hand. Molly Parker is also here. And Daniel McIvor, who'd go on to direct, for example, Wilby Wonderful. It's a party. If you watched some stuff from above (or below) on this list, most faces and names will be familiar to you, tbh (another Hugh Dillon double-take happens).

If you liked Spaced, you'll love this. You might also love it because it commits to its weirdness with an admirable resolve and is genuinely hilarious. (Honestly, CKR's outfits alone warrant a watch.) The idiosyncrasy is definitely Don McKellar's doing 200%. It couldn't be more different from Last Night, but if you've seen one, you'll recognise the other.

Battlestar Galactica (2003 – 2009)

I don't think a person should be allowed to look this pretty in the sweaty-and-dying makeup in that light (this sentence probably looks very weird to those not under the CKR magic spell).

I don't know what to say about BSG because I really, really enjoyed early it initially, but by the middle of S2 it got... well, whatever that was. If you know you know, if you don't, still give it a go. You might get invested enough to suffer through it all, as I have been, slowly.

The unfortunate thing is that CKR got to be there mostly in the "what the fuck" years and not the "wow that's so cool" years. That, as you might be aware, is a pattern with him. But! When he was here, he was so genuinely, wonderfully creepy not in the typecast-baddy way, but in this slow, half-absent way, which really worked. You can also see him tortured a little, as a treat!! <3

Also, a wild John Pyper-Ferguson appears! If you're looking at him thinking you know him from somewhere but not immediately remembering, you'll figure it out, I believe in you. I was very happy to see him.

Wilby Wonderful (2004)

Another win for the put CKR in more good shit team!!! Guess who's here again? Sandra Oh! Also, Paul Gross. Don't watch it for him either though haha.

Another one for whoever wants to look at pushing against the weight of others' (or your own) expectations and growing into who you are or reconsidering who you are or finding meaningful connections with others even when you're kind of a mess and they are too.

Not nearly the first time CKR's gotten to play a queer character, but man, this one really is the heart of the in-universe community, and, through that, of the film. A rare chance to see him so far out of the prickly persona! He's just so solid and calm and there for others in this one and, and soft, ough. It's awesome.

By the way, if any of you have the commentary track or know someone who has, please drop me a line here or on discord (emotionalrisotto), I really wanna hear that.

Supernatural (2005)

I love Supernatural a lot. It was a formative experiences (albeit a very late one) and I owe a lot of my favourite stuff about fandom-ing to the buddies I met through it. I can't believe I'm telling you this (because who hasn't seen it, not because I'm reccing it), but you should really try it if you haven't. It's pretty rad.

I had no idea who this guy was when I saw that episode (the second ever one!), though. I simply cannot fathom what @nigeltde-fic felt when she first saw it. I think I personally got very lucky she didn't combust on the spot. It would've been unfortunate.

On a sillier note, CKR's character has weird tension with both Sam and Dean in this episode, which is par for the course. I personally think they should've... no, I shan't say it. You can probably imagine.

Californication (2008 – 2013)

I haven't actually seen it, lol (and I suspect I won't enjoy it, but I'm very curious and also CKR looks really really good).

The real reason for this one on the list is to share a fic rec. Really, it's a due South F/K fic featuring Lew Ashby. It's ridiculously hot and very satisfying in its romantic resolution, too (but then, I'm kind of big on selfcest. And consensual voyeurism. And pretend relationships when done like this. And sublimated yearning. Erm.)

Shattered (2010 – 2011)

I wish this never happened. I badly, badly wish this never happened. I can't turn back time, but I can warn those luckier than me: do not go there. Yes, even for this dude. You'll sleep better not knowing just what it is he was the EP on. And the only important part — the mascara — can be seen above (yes, the show does look that bad, it's not just the gifs).

Just kidding — I watched it, didn't I? You'll have fun hating it! Just prepare for industrial grade cringe, lower your expectations (No, lower. No, still lower than that. And just a bit more.) and you'll have a great time!

Star trek: Discovery (2024)

Or, as I call it, Star Trek: The Mediocre Show. Discovery S5 was... what it was, but it was a wonderful viewing experience — mostly thanks to the gang (@kittkatk and @feroxargentea especially!)

What a joy it is, to follow a show week by week, yelling and laughing and discussing the whole time. And giffing, too. I was very happy to contribute to the Disco fandom from my own little obsessive corner, and I was glad to see people adoring Rayner, haha.

He's a pretty neat character — very much a stereotype, yes, but with CKR's usual twist of odd vulnerability and weirdness. Also, I loved the ears. I miss the ears. The ears were great.

I even wrote a fic! Although it's not within my usual range to write for canons and universes I don't know well — and back then, I'd only seen S5 of Disco. It was a lot of suffering, and a lot of fun.

Closing thoughts

I'd really love the dude to get a better agent. And possibly better taste, but I realise that's a tougher ask. Seriously, it's been too long since he was in something majorly cool. I'm grateful to him, at least, for not making terrible music on the side. And I still have a lot of his back catalogue to get through, some of it even good, so there will be more insanity. Until then!