#Does NOT look good in the middle of the night

[fromdove]

MY JASON TODD PHYSICAL APPEARANCE HEADCANONS !

welcome to my ted talk. go ahead and sit your semi-literate goblin ass down and take notes, because i am about to paint you a portrait of this man so vivid you’ll think i dipped my brush in the lazarus pit itself.

HETEROCHROMIA. one blue eye & one green eye. im a very big and firm believer on this. this is my religion. this is my prayer. jason todd's eyes are my gospel, and I am the devoted disciple on my knees at the altar. he's always had them, before the lazarus pit & AFTER the lazarus pit. (although after the lazarus pit id like to point out that his eyes got a bit brighter especially the green!). i saw fanart once of this—just one image—and it was enough to send me into a trance. my jaw unhinged like a snake

LARGE SHARP ALMOND EYES. eyes sharp enough to cut!! real real real. sharp enough to gut someone in an alley. you get looked at by him and feel like you need to apologize for crimes you haven’t committed yet. yup that. they soften when he looks at you tho bc ur his amazing angel faced baby.

HIS GODDAMN JAWLINE. the kind you see on statues. could cut diamonds. so perfect. brutal. Pythagoras would rise from the grave with a boner, calculator in hand, shaking and crying overwhelmed by the sheer geometry of him. drooling. weeping & erect.

6'4!!!!!!!!!! MY MAN IS TALL. A GIANT. GARGANTUAN. and that’s the final word. idgaf. don’t come in here with that “canon says he’s 6’0” nonsense. fuck canon. canon is a lie built by cowards. they've screwed up my babies too many times to count. my Jason ducks under door frames and casts shadows over people trying to insult him. he intimidates every man in a ten-mile radius just by standing up.

BULKY. (not crazy bulky like those steroid obsessed body builder protein-powder-in-the-veins monstrous freaks but still jacked af. (like in this picture: click here and here) . he’s jacked like a Greek statue, like a renaissance painting of a war god.

white streak. white streak 24/7 for the rest of infinity. all night. every universe. every reboot. i don’t care. Non-negotiable. he got it from the one and only pit. he tried to cut it, dye it, tried everything to get rid of it at first but it just kept growing back and the dye would never work on it somehow ??/ so he just gave up lmao

OKOK his nose. my fave nose to picture jason with is an sightly upturned nose with a bump in the middle. do you guys know what kind of nose im yappin about? here is a visual: click here

ive seen fanart with jason with the j scar and i just think it fits his character and backstory. yes it was from that makeup-smeared tragedy of a circus reject. but fuck him!! this is about jason peter todd. my baby is still hot af anyways so.

SHARP CANINES. BITE ME WITH THEM. LORDDD MOTHERR GODDD. Carnivore-coded. was he born with them? is it a lazarus thing? either way theyre sharp little bastards. He tries to be careful, he reallyyy does but sometimes, mid-kiss, they slip. he nips you. he pulls back, eyes wide, guilt-ridden. you’re breathless. he spews like a million apologizes coz the last thing he wants to do it hurt u. but u dont care bc it feels so goddamn good... STOP ME)

Full lips that look like they’re always swollen from a brawl or a kiss.. with a slight cupids bow. god. yes. the corners/edges of his mouth are sharp (does that make sense?? help). he also has scars extending from the corners that look like smiles, they only stretch a few centimeters out. not that long at all. joker’s parting gift, poetic as it is cruel. OH AND he has the Toji scar !!! this one right here: click here

dark brown hair thats wavy & fluffy heeheheh (2c textured.) not straight, not curly, that luscious in-between mess that stays tousled and tragic and stupidly sexy no matter what. fluffy. thick. ruffles in the wind like he's some sad, angry prince. you run your hands through it and he pretends he doesn’t melt. he is NAWT a victim of the male pattern baldness epidemic. bye no no no no he doesnt bald thanks to the lazarus pit.

THICK DARK & FULL STRAIGHT BROWSSS. IDCCC THIS MAN HAS THICK BROWS. These brows have seen things. They furrow when he’s pissed (which is like always lmao), They’re intimidating, god-tier brows kinda brows. oh oh and theyre also kind of upturned !

his fingers. jesusususususus. Veiny. Long-fingered. Calloused. Worn. His knuckles are always scabbed (from fights). His nails are short, His fingers could snap a neck, but you just want them on your throat for different reasons. And the rings? Thick, heavy, sharp. Some brass. Some iron. they double as weapons. like i just know if someone pisses him off the rings are going to hurt like straight up fucking hell.

this man has long lashes. like long enough to collect dew. Thick enough to cast shadows. curled at the tips. his lashes are criminal. like wtf. theyre the kind that make mascara cry. they frame his eyes and face perfectly

scars all over. he has the autopsy scar on his chest, he has scars on his back too. his face, arms, legs, everywhere. bullet grazes, knife cuts etc..his entire body is a war journal basically

he has eye bags and dark circles which is a given considering what he does and his lack of sleep. They're not “oh, I pulled an all-nighter” eye bags, theyre bruised purpulish blue with a bit of red. u can seen some veins. his eye bags r a little puffy. this paired with his sharp eyes make him look very very intimidating to others but not to u, bc wdym intimidating? he's my angel?? he would never hurt a fly?? tf?

a few extra's!!:

A slight scar on his eyebrow from a fall off a fire escape in crime alley when he was 12. Never stitched it (despite the constant nagging from bruce & alfred). he said the blood made him look cool. (my angel baby i love him)

a voice that’s deeper than you expect. gravelly. like he chewed cigarettes for breakfast and chased them with glass. but it dips soft when he says your name. unbearably soft. traitorously tender.

faint cigarette burn on the inside of his left forearm. from back when he thought pain might be the only thing that made him real. said it was an accident. it wasn’t.

A barely-there tremor in his right hand. Old injury. Nerve damage.

[chrattvibe]

you can make it up but can you do smt like chris being really pda with the reader and like matt and nick make fun of him but the reader loves it

៹ Seen. chris sturniolo.

The pins fall with a clean, solid crash.

“STRIKE!” Chris shouts, in his head. On the outside, he stays cool, just turning around. When he notices my phone recording him, he does a silly celebration dance. Then he searches for my eyes once he sees I stopped filming.

"Did you get that? Did I look cool?"

He walks over with that proud grin and his arms already wide open, expecting a hug. I don’t even get a chance to stand — he drops right next to me on the seat, wraps me in his arms, and hides his face in my neck. I run my hand down his back and feel a soft kiss on my skin.

Just a few feet away, Nick rolls his eyes from his seat.

"You guys are actually disgusting." he mutters, right before it’s his turn. Without waiting for a reply, he heads off to grab his ball.

"Don’t say that!" Chris says, now properly settling next to me, slipping an arm around my waist.

"He’s joking, relax," I say when I notice his frown. I rest my hand on his chest, smiling. His face softens and he adjusts his hat, brushing his hair back.

Chris doesn’t even flinch at his brother’s comment. He pulls me in with that cozy warmth he only gives off when he’s comfortable. He fixes a strand of my hair and caresses my cheek. He looks so comfy, like we’re sitting in his living room, not in the middle of a bowling alley under blue lights and surrounded by people.

"Careful, anyone here could take a picture of you," I say, gently holding his wrist. "Chris Sturniolo spotted flirting with a mystery girl at downtown LA bowling alley..." I read aloud in the voice of a random gossip account.

"Couldn’t care less right now," he says with a lazy smile, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

"I just don’t wanna cause you drama or headlines. I know what the Chris girls might say," I add, teasing.

He looks at me, suddenly serious.

"Then let 'em know. Let 'em all find out. You're good for me and that's all that matters."

His words catch me off guard. I smile — it’s the only thing I can do. I gently cup his face.

"Did you spike your Pepsi and not tell me?"

"I’m just drunk in love with you," he says, immediately back to being goofy. I roll my eyes, and he flashes a long, sweet smile before giving me a slow kiss and lacing his fingers with mine.

Matt walks past us with a slice of pizza in one hand and a lemonade in the other. He hears the tail end of it and raised his eyebrows.

"Wow. Did I miss something? Chris became boyfriend of the year while I was grabbing food?" he says, sitting across from us.

"First of all, I’ve always been boyfriend of the year. And second, you didn’t miss anything important. Just made the best shot of the night." Chris says with a shrug.

"Cocky." Matt mutters with a mouthful of pizza. My name flashes on the screen, signaling it’s my turn.

Chris gives me a wink, a little squeeze on my thigh, and I head off to the lane.

While I’m lining up my shot, the boys keep chatting behind me.

"Are you two celebrating an anniversary or something and we’re just the third wheels now?" Nick says, dropping down next to Chris.

"What are you talkin' about?" Chris chuckles, sipping his soda.

"We’ve seriously lost you, kid." Matt says, cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms.

"I’m just happy, dude. I’ve never felt like this before..." Chris says quietly, like he’s confessing something they all already know.

"We’re happy for you. It’s weird seeing you like this, in public. Makes me wanna throw up, but it’s kinda funny." Nick says, earning a light punch in the arm from Matt.

"We’re just messing around, okay? But keep those corny Instagram stories in close friends for now. The world’s not ready for two cutie like you guys." Matt teases with a grin, getting up to take his turn. "But seriously, we’re happy for you. Both of you." He claps Chris on the shoulder and heads off.

Matt gives me a half-smile as we cross paths, and I head back to Chris. I stay standing next to him, and one of his arms wraps around my thighs from where he’s seated, resting his head on my stomach. I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And this time, I don’t care if anyone sees us or recognizes him. Because I like seeing him like this too — almost wanting to be seen.

Masterlist!

Notes: thanks to the person who made this request! I hope you find this post and like it <3 let me know!

—chrattvibe.

[hollyhomburg]

Hold your Breath (Count to Seven)

(Pack alpha Hoseok focus, Background ot7 x reader, Omegaverse, Forced Caretaking, Omega scarcity au)

୨୧‧₊˚ Summary: When a performance keeps pack alpha Hoseok from tending to his sick omega, he struggles to contain his rage (and looks back on all the reasons he has to control his anger).

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Word Count: 16.6k

୨୧ ‧₊˚ Tags: Omegaverse au, omega scarcity, forced caretaking, idol au, Pack alpha hoseok x omega! m/c, Sicfic, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Background ot7 x reader, eventual Brat! m/c, Implied chronic health issues, themes of trauma, Hoseok has PTSD from enlistment, healing, Past Medical mistreatment, past neglect, Eventual smut, brief smut, Brief allusions to omega obedience training, Brief Dom! Hoseok, Breif Sub! m/c + Jk, referenced Dom Jimin + spanking, non-chronological storyline

୨୧ ‧₊˚ A/N: This was inspired after i got /dreadfully/ ill after seeing HOTS in march. i've been writing it for a good long while i guess! i'm open to adding more to the story if i'm inspired but as of right now it will only be 5 parts. Please enjoy it and let me know what you think! this story also does go non-chronolgocially, if we organize it by chronology this is actually the middle. basically it goes 3 < 4 < 5 < 1 < 2, but i think you'll enjoy the flashbacks of how they got togeather!

The sound of the audience and the rumble of screams and shouts are still ringing in Hoseok's ears as he exits the stage. The roar of the lyrics are a hum filling his veins. Adrenaline pumps through his system better than any drug or instinct. More addictive and more natural to him than breathing.

He’s sweat tacky in places he’d rather not name and yet despite this night- a show, the dance of performer and performance, the validation that comes from the screams of many waiting fans- despite all of that- Hoseok's still not calm. Hoseok's still not satisfied.

He yanks his in ears out, nearly tearing at the wiring the second he's clear from view. Not even bothering to put his microphone in its correct case as he moves, breathless and hurried in the direction of the dressing room.

A stagehand tries to help him, but after clocking the rage and aggression rolling off of him they think better of it and lower their gaze as he passes, practically curling in on themselves.

He's on alert, aggression a hairpin trigger just waiting to be pulled below his skin. Almost hoping for an outlet. The still lingering roaring cheers of Alphas, a good number of betas, and a sparse select few omegas ferry him as he cuts through the sea of staff.

By all metrics the show had gone well. He's not angry because he stumbled or because someone messed up the queue for the cube again. This performance had gone perfectly. It has nothing to do with why he's about to snap and punch someone. Maybe bite them. Maybe tear them limb from limb- yeah his alpha likes the sound of that. But none of this, none of this is what makes his blood hot in his veins.

That honor belongs to his omega.

You’re not just his, of course, you belong to the others too. But he’s pack alpha, so they all belong to him to some degree. The pups more so, his peers, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi- less. Being a part of a pack is more like belonging to matching a set and less ownership.

But not anymore. You're Hoseok's. In every way that matters. You're his.

It's hard to believe, but Hoseok was not always so possessive and exacting as a pack alpha. He never had to deal with any of this- the instincts and the near-feral need that comes with them before the pack became fractured. Broken in a way that can’t be fixed by words and promises. Leaving Hoseok's alpha to pace back and forth the inside of his mind like a monster caged and understimulated.

Hoseok wishes he knew what he was giving up when he enlisted.

Not that knowing would have changed anything. But at least then he'd have been prepared.

Hoseok has seven pups and seven packmates registered to his pack. four alpha's, two beta's, and one precious omega. He's never been without his pack for so long and before 22 months ago they'd never been apart for more than a few weeks. Enlisting posed new challenges, some that Hoseok thought he'd be better at handling by now.

But adjustment takes time. Healing takes time. It doesn't matter how many times he repeats that to himself. Nothing ever gets easier (You might disagree).

The military wasn't easy. They didn't go easy on Hoseok.

He'd never been one alpha among the many, never had his rage cultivated and honed as a weapon to be used and wielded by his superiors. Hoseok learned he was good at being angry- good at melding his body and his alpha together as one- it's only now that Hoseok's out that he's struggling to detangle his sense of self from his alpha.

He'd never been without some sort of pack structure. At least not in so many years. He'd presented with Namjoon and Yoongi- had dealt with their instincts and learned how to settle his own alongside them. A good thing too because a few years after when Jungkook and Taehyung had come along. Young and wide-eyed and entirely unprepared for anything like presenting- they'd needed a pack alpha to help settle them. Someone to guard and mind their instincts, to take care of them, to push when they needed pushing and get them to bend when otherwise they might break.

But war is different. Rage- Hoseok is learning, Is a particular monster that doesn't go down easy.

Of course they'd never been completely broken as a pack. Even now Yoongi is home in the pack house still doing his daily service and coming home at the end of the day. The last time Hoseok had been home (nearly 5 weeks ago before the start of the tour). Yoongi was still struggling; Hoseok saw signs of it everywhere.

His camo jacket wasn't in the house even, it's in the garage where he leaves his boots. Takes them off before he even sets foot inside. separate lives and separate alpha's. There are pack house slippers set up by the door. 16 slippers, 8 sets, color coordinated. Kept meticulously clean like the rest of the house. Namjoon's coffee mug left by the coffee maker, Tae's scarf laid over the chair. A still life painting. hints of the pack left undisturbed. As if they'd just popped out for a moment and where coming back later.

Maybe Hoseok should have realized it when Seokjin was discharged, how you and Yoongi had gone radio silent for 6 hours. How much more communicative Seokjin was after and how every day after he told Hobi how much he couldn't wait for the pack alpha to come home. A new edge to his tone. Hoseok should have suspected something was wrong.

Now that Hoseok's home, he knows. Jin had it easier. Jin's a beta Jin doesn't have a monster in the back of his mind constantly out for blood.

He knows that Yoongi's still not used to buying less than 8 people's worth of food at a time after so many years of cooking and shopping for 8. That he struggles to fall asleep at night- too used to the press of warm bodies around him. Now Hoseok knows that Sometimes when Yoongi wakes in the morning, his hands shake. Instincts and body unsettled.

Hoseok knows, for the first 6 months of his service, his hands shook in the morning too. Call it psychological dependence or physical addiction- Hoseok doesn't quite know what it is. Although Hoseok expects that had more to do with you.

Alpha's can grow dependent on omega's after all. It's no more addictive than a cup of coffee, and yet,

And yet…

In his worst moments, Hoseok wonders what the pack would do if they didn't have you.

If you hadn't have asked, Hoseok wouldn't have let you come on this tour, would have never dragged you across the globe from city to city and would never have taken you from Yoongi. But the fact of the matter is that Hoseok is...it's not that he's not handling this well exactly but...but...

But you'd pouted, and Hoseok (notoriously weak for your every whim and desire) had predictably melted. (He'd been a little oblivious to the thankful looks shot at you over his head, he'd missed the way that Yoongi had cornered you just before the start of tour, how he'd folded himself across you.

"I'll get him back, you know I can be persistent."

"I know, I'm just worried, he's so...unhappy." Yoongi finally settled on. Even if you're both aware that that's not quite it. "You know how I hate it when you push yourself.")

But trauma changes people, it affects everyone differently. Hoseok had changed.

Now Hoseok regrets letting you come even more. When he checks his phone he doesn't have a single text from you. Not a 'good luck on the show.' Or an 'I'll be watching alpha' or anything. Which is not like you. Hoseok shouldn't be so surprised. You're probably sleeping. You're probably just resting like you should be. He'd ordered you to rest last night.

Exiting the stage, Hoseok does try and settle himself. Pausing in the darkness listening the the shouting of the crowd, slowly becoming a murmur and rumble. 60 thousand footsteps trudging towards the exit.

He spends a few moments standing there, staff around him waiting on bated breath, waiting for him to move. He's at least practicing his breathing exercises even if his body still feels like a weapon poised to attack.

When Hoseok closes his eyes, he sees each member of his pack as a pinprick of light against the map. Five dots clustered across the ocean back in Korea, one here close by, and one on the other side of the world.  7 dots and 7 breaths.

Seokjin is in France for an event that left him looking glittery and bejeweled. But he's existed as little more than sinful pictures and soft check-ins on Hoseok’s phone. His phone buzzes, but Hoseok keeps his eyes closed and breathes before he looks at it.

Those check-ins are the only way Hoseok stays sane these days. The updates from Jimin and Jungkook- shots of the dinner they make for the thousands of other recruits. 30 gallon pots of honey potatoes. Recordings of Namjoon's military band. The few promos that Taehyung is allowed to shoot- although he out of all of them is radio silent most weeks. Hoseok knows it's just because he's military police and has a higher clearance than them- even though Hoseok's technically a sergeant- but still-

Taehyung is a shifting wolf, he has different expectations than the rest of the pack.

Hoseok isn't in the military anymore. He's just Jung Hoseok. Only Hoseok could never be just Jung Hoseok- no matter what universe you put him in.

As long he knows exactly where and what his pack is doing the instincts are a little bit easier to bear. As long as he knows when Yoongi's going to come home, when Seokjin will be done with his photoshoot or recording session or this or that and is ready there waiting at the front door for a scenting or a brief nibble at their throat. Hoseok's instincts stay mostly in check.

Mostly. It's easier if Hoseok gives in, just a little bit, to what his alpha wants.

Hoseok's alpha wants more than Hoseok can give him right now, Hoseok's alpha wants blood, wants to tear this stadium apart and hunt across the city, tearing through anyone that steps in his way until he gets to you.

They haven’t all been together in so long his body is almost used to it. His body has adjusted. It’s been months now but there is still aggression that lurks under his skin, alpha constantly roiling to get out out out out. To get back to his pack, to drag them back by the scruff of their necks to the pack house and place them gently in your nest where they belong. Damning laws and discharge dates and all associated consequences.

The truth is that Hoseok's alpha doesn't know what to do when they're not together. Will keep him awake, will keep him from eating or resting. He'd heard that enlistment time could be dangerous for pack alphas, that many don't survive their 18 months without going feral at least once. Hoseok had skimmed by the skin of his teeth.

In many ways, the fight between man and alpha is like a dance, Hoseok’s alpha asks for obedience and Hoseok gives him his body but not his mind when he can help it. He runs and moves, and puts every ounce of discipline and dominance into his dance. His moves are always mastered, never shaky.

Hoseok's not sure he'd know it if he went feral.

When he'd been announced as pack alpha back just after their debut, there had been more than one article that questioned why the sunshine of the group, the ever-smiling and genial member, neither the largest nor the tallest was made pack alpha.

But size has nothing to do with it. Now, no one wonders. After seeing him perform solo on the stage they bought and paid for with their youth and hard work. After seeing him and what he can do no one questions him. Hoseok made discharge look effortless, no one would ever guess. No one would ever wonder.

Other times, Hoseok's alpha asks for more than Hoseok can give without showing it. Like tonight.

The only thing that made their military service at all tolerable was the fact that for those 6 months when the 6 of them had been in active service- at least Yoongi had been able to come home to you.

There’s a text from him on Hobi's phone and he's not asking about the show. Yoongi always watches the live stream and usually texts him the second he's hot off the stage. Asking about how it went even though he saw it. Namjoon might be the group leader but Yoongi has always felt a bit more like Hoseok's second in command.

Hoseok has no doubt that Yoongi saw right through him tonight, saw the furious crispness to his movements, and was able to tell how close he was to breaking. Hoseok doesn’t doubt that the other alpha checking his phone every few minutes. Anxiously waiting for Hoseok's response.

When Hoseok is certain he has enough control over his body that the text isn't going to make him trash the backstage area. He checks his phone.

Yoonie (10:32pm): How is she? Any news? Has her condition gotten any worse?

Yoonie (10:33pm): I know you're probably already considering it, but you know traveling isn't healthy for omega's long term. She needs her routine. You should consider sending her home.

Yoongi has gentler instincts and always has. But even he can't stay settled when their omega is sick. Yoongi also wasn’t taken away from you for a year and a half and taught to kill so Hoseok thinks he’s allowed to be a little on edge.

Hoseok shouldn't feel so fragile and so volatile. He should feel better. This is nothing compared to how it was right after he got back.

Yoongi's not the only one who's texted, the rest already have using their precious 30 minutes of phone time a day to check in. Most of the time, Hobi tries to time his updates to accumulate before they wake.

Jin gets it, Jin understands. Even though he's a beta. His text came through just before Hobi got on stage.

Jinnie (7:05pm): Let me know if you want me to change my flight.

They’ve been separated for a year. There was only Jin’s discharge and then his that they’ve all been together for. They all keep in regular contact and that’s not difficult. They check in and text daily and call weekly. But it's never enough.

As a pack with a registered omega they’re offered some allowances by the government. They get more days off and leeway if one of them gets sick or injured (like last month with Taehyung- Hoseok’s little alpha, bundled close in the nest, face tucked under your chin, so achingly still. His newly big body oh so carefully placed so that he wouldn’t strain his cracked rib.)

Alphas don’t have a better reason to fight than for omegas and recovery rates are always always higher if an alpha has been scented by an omega. The boost to their immune system alone is enough to make omega’s necessary for the war effort. The government even employs some omega's and compensates them greatly for their service as scenters.

The pack would never think about going to a government omega, not when they’ve got you at home.

As a bonded pack there’s no use, it wouldn’t work the same (and Hoseok would never offend you that way). But there’s less time given if more than one alpha is out. It’s one of the few reasons why Hoseok went in first so that he'd be able to help them all adjust when the time came.

He never expected to be the one to have trouble with it. To struggle to turn his instincts off now that they've been turned on.

The people around must be able to tell that Hoseok’s on edge, and the crowd too. Their cries reached a feral pitch, the same shouting that still vibrates the stage beneath his feet. Rage rolls off of him in waves as he stalks back to the dressing room. Smile and grin and smirk falling from his face.

They must be able to smell it on him underneath all the smell of the show, the gunpowder and fire from Hangsang, the roil of steam from sweet dreams, all irrelevant.

This is what they’ve all been waiting for for what feels like years, a chance to be on the stage again, a chance to perform. This is only the beginning leg of the tour and there are still kinks to work out and problems to solve. The logistical nightmare of moving staff and stage across multiple countries never ends. Hoseok is used to this. Hoseok is comfortable here.

He keeps telling himself that.

But right now, Hoseok can't think about it. He can't think about anything else but you.

Because you're sick.

~-~

Omegas are so rare that not every pack can have one.

Only those who can supply an above-average standard of life usually get one. Both prize and packmate. They're more common in celebrity and chaebol circles. Having an omega in your pack is the ultimate sign of success and wealth.

Some packs even have two, especially if the omega's have decided they're nestmates. But Hoseok can't imagine needing more than you.

A disease two generations ago wiped out nearly 90% of omega's. The sickness left only the most looked after, the most cared for unscathed. But those that were alive by the end of the nearly 10 year period scrambled to cope. To this day the omega population still hasn't recovered in any meaningful way. They make up only about 1 in every 100 individuals worldwide, less in Korea.

Most omega’s go through a very rigorous courting period if they're going to belong to a pack at all, only the richest and well-esteemed packs can covet one for for themselves. The rest of the world survives off of government-sponsored nesting and scenting services. There are even government agencies in charge of omega’s. Each omega gets an id card and a social worker. Hoseok hasn't had to talk to yours in years. Omegan Health Services or the OHS that tracks any omega that might have come into contact with the virus and quickly disseminates antivirals and vaccines.

You have to get yours every few months. Hoseok makes sure you never miss your appointments. Usually, he spends the following day confining you to the nest, immune to your restless squirming and your insistence that you're alright, just a little tired. Resistant to his insistence that he carry you where you need to go, that he fuss over you.

Luckily- the rest of the pack gangs up on you after your shots too. Namjoon puts your bandaid on the inside of your arm and Yoongi soothes your stomach with bone broth and light food to support your immune system. Each spoonful blown at, your lips dotted with reassuring kisses between bites. Jungkook and Taehyung usually wrap themselves around you like a living blanket to keep the shivers at bay. Nosing into your spine.

Only Hoseok and Yoongi usually attend your appointments. They're a little too intense for the others. Sometimes Jin comes. But he's the most likely to burst into tears and then you end up comforting him instead of the other way around.

Hoseok is usually good up until they actually put the needle into your skin. He'd broken a chair the first time he'd seen it. Gripping the wooden arm so hard as he heard your intake of pain that it had splintered under his hand.

There's a genetic component to being a pack alpha. Jungkook has the gene too. Hoseok has always been a little stronger, a little more resilient than the others.

Hoseok has only ever missed one of your appointments. Last year, the year Hoseok was enlisted for your shot. You'd spent weeks telling him he didn't have to take a day off for it (he'd been saving all of his leave for his packmate's ruts and your heat, but even then Hoseok knew he was going to have to miss one or two.) You said you'd be fine, that the shot wouldn't be too bad, you've had them before after all.

Only you hadn't been alright, you'd had to be hospitalized for it. It wasn't all that uncommon, omega's have weak immune systems and yours has always been particularly fragile.

Hoseok hardly remembers it. The static through the line, he'd hardly been able to hear Yoongi's voice over the roar of his heartbeat through his ears. An emergency call from Yoongi, something about an allergic reaction, anaphylaxis.

He'd have gone awol if his commander hadn't granted him emergency leave. His brain hadn't stopped roaring until he'd draped himself draped across your hospital bed after making an 8-hour car ride in 6 hours. Beret off, spilled and fallen onto the floor, face crumpling the second Yoongi rose from your opposite bedside.

"Namjoon will be here in an hour, she tried to stay up for you but the medication they had to give her made her drowsy."

Hoseok hadn't been able to speak, to respond to him. The sight of you in the bed. Small looking. The cannula. Supplying your body with oxygen because it's not getting enough. Everything screaming at Hoseok's instincts wrong wrong wrong. Fight protect keep safe.

Hoseok was terrified.

They'd given him a tranquilizer to stop him from pacing outside your door. Apparently its a normal occurrence in the relatively empty but well maintained omega's only wing of the hospital. Guards watch him with nervous expressions as they patrol the halls.

After that, he'd been a little more susceptible to Yoongi's gentle request that Hoseok should come sit by your bedside table. And what started as sitting turned into nuzzling into your hand turned into closing his eyes for just a moment.

You'd been rubbing your hands over his shaved head by the time he'd woken. He'd been so sure he'd been dreaming it, but Your honey voice is so soothing after hearing nothing but shouting to work harder and run faster you're so weak private Jung, can you even hit the target for weeks and weeks that it felt a bit like a lullaby to hear his own name spoken so gently, with such tenderness.

"Hobi, Oh Hobi. You didn't have to come all this way for me."

~-~

This is thankfully not that. Thankfully you're sick with just a cold and not the virus. But Hoseok doesn't take any sickness lightly. Not when it comes to you.

Modern medicine has come a long way, but still not far enough. Omegas are so rare a good portion of the population even abandons the idea of having an omega entirely. They’re not exactly a necessity for beta’s but for alphas- it’s a different story.

Hoseok can feel the hum of scent deprivation under his skin. The itch unlike any other. Hoseok cannot smell you on him, not his clothes or his skin. Nothing beyond the smell of sweat and alpha annoyance. Through any other performance, he’d at least have the scent of his pack on him. But not tonight, not until June when everyone will finally finally be together.

You’d been sleeping through the morning when he left, and he’d been reluctant to wake you on account of how you’d fallen asleep last night- or hadn’t. You’d been sniffling and coughing the whole night away. Hoseok had kept watch over you through it all.

What had started as a brief tickle in your throat around lunch yesterday (an easy meal- vegetables for Hobi and a tad bit of meat for you, fed from his own chopsticks, every brief shake of your head met with a disapproving look that you have long stopped disagreeing with. Hobi knows how much you are to eat, there's no reason why you need to worry your pretty little head about anything). Had developed into a fever and a few minutes of terror while they waited for the test to develop.

You've never gotten the sickness before but Hoseok knows how it would start; a feverishness like heat, then tiredness. And then all of a sudden you'd go to nest and wouldn't get up again without medical intervention. Might not get up at all. Might stop breathing- might-

He repeats it to himself again. That you're not sick with it. That this is just an ordinary cold. He has no reason to be so on edge.

The fans tonight could tell there was something wrong. Could spot it. Hoseok knows they're wondering if it's you. You aren’t a secret, but you are a private matter. A person that only the pack and the staff know by name. There have been pictures and speculation. They don't hide you but your last name is not public knowledge. You keep your face hidden almost constantly when you know you’re going to be spotted with them.

You are not someone to be jealous of but to be jealous for. You are not someone to be stalked or photographed. What they ordinarily tolerate out of necessity, they never do with you.

But alpha's are not always good at controlling their instincts. There have been incidents, not always because of them or their lack of control either. Jungkook had almost come to blows with an alpha who dared to sniff in your direction just before Jungkook's enlistment, a month or so after Hobi's.

~-~

The flash of the cameras are dizzying. There's a hush that falls over the room as you and Jungkook enter, before the roar redoubles- twice as loud as before.

You're mostly used to it by now, but still some things- like Jungkook close behind you, his big hand on the small of your back make it easier to tolerate. The press of people on either side of you is stifling, press and fans, guards and security. There's only a few moments of claustrophobia from the car to the showcase.

You hold your breath, and Jungkook stays close. It would be easier if your other alphas were here, but you're getting used to having them far away, to having them only on your phone or during evening phone calls. It's been enough months that Hoseok has stopped apologizing for leaving you and Namjoon has started making promises of all the things you'll do once you're home.

But still, sometimes you wake in the nest in the morning, big and empty of bodies, and feel so lonely it aches.

It will be worse when Jungkook goes. You know it will. Which is why you're tagging along today, why you've tagged along to schedules you'd normally avoid.

Sometimes you don't believe what hoseok says, the way that the world talks about omegas, they say you're more delicate, you're more breakable. Most of the time, you don't believe it.

Other times, like this, your anxiety rushes at you, and their touch becomes the only teather you have outside of the fear, the nervousness, the pounding tumble of your heart that ached for confined soft spaces, warmth and enclosed safety. A nest.

But you do away with your instincts today, in favor of staying close. A few more weeks, you only have a few more weeks until Jungkook goes and you don't want to waste a single minute.

One moment you're in front of Jungkook, walking almost instep with him as he leads you through rows and rows of security. You know what you'll look like in magazines later, wide eyes perched over a mask, hat with bunny ears flopping. Swallowed whole by a jacket, small next to your alpha. That there will be articles and breakdowns of your every movement.

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Being an omega can get a little frustrating. You're not the only one scrutinized this way, most omega's that mate with public figures are the topic of the tabloids. You'd flopped against hoseok's chest the first time it happened, "they only saw my forehead! how are they talking about skincare routine when they don't even know?" he'd just pressed his forhead against yours, nuzzling your nose playfully.

"I hate to tell you that you should get used to it but- the press are just kind of like that."

Most of them keep their distance. tipping their head as you pass. it doesn't make you weirded out or nervous, it just is this way. You take off your hat and mask the second you're clear of the doors and fans, about to turn and say something to Jungkook. You don't see the dark figure at the end of the hall leaning forward ever so slightly.

But Jungkook does.

it happens so quick you can't even blink, one moment you're stumbling, turning to say something to him, a security gaurd reaching out to steady you- The next moment you're holding Jungkook back around his waist, blood on his knuckles and a growl on the air.

More than one security guard and staff gets between you and the other alpha. He spits blood on the floor. Some of it hits your legs.

Your ears ring, and you can't hear anything as Jungkook shoves you behind him. Two other security guards have to hold him back. Hands shaking out of their hold.

They'd still been shaking, as he used a wet wipe to clean the blood off of your legs after.

You just don't sniff at an omega without permission, let alone reach to touch them. Let alone an omega with a pack.

"Jeon Jungkook! No! Bad!"

You don't like using their full names, never have, it's always pet names with you. Hoseok can already hear the gentle velvet of your voice crooning softly, "Hobi, are you okay? Do you want to come lay down in my nest for a bit? Can you come here alpha? I want to scent you."

You are the only person for whom his instincts bend. You are the only person he ever willingly takes orders from. The fight worn out of his body at your simplest request.

Hoseok takes Emergency pack alpha leave precious and dwindling by the month, just to handle the situation again. But disciplining his pack takes precedent.

A tidy settlement had kept the situation from leaking to the press, although Hoseok could hardly blame Jungkook for acting aggressively. His head had hung the entire time Hoseok been home. Jungkook doesn't like disappointing the pack alpha. Especially not now, when they don't have days and weeks of proximity and routine to get back on even ground. Not when Hoseok only has 24 hours, and has to leave in the morning.

It only takes one touch for Hoseok to bring him to his knees. A hand on the back of his neck the second they're clear of the outside. The pack house, dusty and mostly empty. Jungkook's mouth has been running wild since Hoseok first walked into the company building. Apologizing to anyone who would listen.

But Hoseok hadn't accepted the apology until they'd been in private.

"Do you know why you're sorry Jungkook?"

You're sat across Hoseok's lap for it, sniffling slightly. Soothed by the rhythmic brush of his hand down his back, your cold nose pressed against his throat. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his uniform before this. Jungkook is on his knees between Hoseok's parted thighs. Inches from you and kept at a distance by sheer obedience. Hoseok admires Jungkook's restraint. Not every alpha could resist nuzzling into an omega's thighs, especially one so close.

Hoseok knows his weaknesses. Jungkook is also a good alpha. Hoseok's most obedient one. But even then he's not even looking at Hobi when as he kneels.

Jungkook looks at you and blinks back tears. Hoseok wants to lick at the alpha's pretty canines, wants to press your faces together and make you kiss. Make it messy just for him. He redoubles his hold on you. holding you tighter. You lap at his scent gland, trying to soothe yourself, nearly suckling at the skin of his throat.

"For offending our omega and...for putting her in danger?" Jungkook's hands slid down Hoseok's calf muscles, but Hoseok just tipped his feet wider. Giving Jungkook more room.

The ball of your foot pressed against Jungkook's shoulder, undeterred, the younger alpha only tries to nose up your leg. Hoseok nudges between his legs with his boot and Jungkook makes a noise- somewhere between a whine and a growl.

"Look at me. not at her." Hoseok keeps him still, and yet- there's only seconds before Jungkook's attention is diverted from the pack alpha's face to yours.

"And how did you do that? How did you put her in danger? Tell alpha."

"For Fighting? For hitting him?"

Hoseok is quick to reassure him with a hand on his chin, rubbing across Jungkook's cheek. "No no no, you did that perfectly. Alpha is so proud of you for defending our omega like that, try again."

"Because" Jungkook is having a hard time stringing his words together with Hoseok's boot pressed to certain places. But that's the point. Hoseok owns all of him like this, the sole of his rubber boot pressed against his knot, gently pressing it snug between Jungkook's body and the unyielding weight of his dominance. The other alpha pants openly. Hoseok can tell that it hurts. Can tell that Jungkook likes it to by the way his mouth opens in a soundless groan.

"Because I did it infront of her?"

"Yes. And why was that bad?"

"Because stress isn't good for omega's? They're too fragile for it." That Jungkook does not say shakily. He, like Hoseok, knows it in his bones that he speaks the truth.

hoseok is perilously weak not to reward him.

"That's right. Good boy. My smart boy. Pull your pants down for alpha and show me your knot." Jungkook pushes into Hoseok's hand like a puppy, letting out a shaky relieved breath at the words. You squirm a little, stilling when you feel Hoseok's hands go firm on your waist. A wordless command to keep still and stay where alpha wants you.

Jungkook rushes to comply, eager to be good. cock popping free, hitting his toned stomach with a light plop. Resting his chin on Hoseok's knee once he's finished.

He waits. You squirm. Looking at him over your shoulder and then at Hoseok. blushing furiously. unnerved by jungkook's complete obedience. Like you're struggling not to give it to.

You rub your nose up and down the column of his throat like you're trying to soothe yourself. "M' not fragile." Hoseok pulls back to peck your nose, humming and willing to play along. His hands on you are gentle, almost too gentle.

"Of course you're not. My sweet little pup. You’re so so brave, you didn’t even cry for that long and alpha is so so proud."

He adjusts his gaze to Jungkook, who has resorted to clinging to Hoseok's legs again for comfort. Pretending he's not rutting his hips in tentative circles and making a mess of Hoseok's pant leg. Eyes teary and worked up. Teeth half bared in aggression like he wants to submit completely but can't quite will himself too. his alpha bubbling up.

"It was just...Scary." You say, quiet and soft. And when you reached down to touch Jungkook's hair, Hoseok lets you.

Jungkook sags into the touch. He chases your scent gland taking deep grateful lungfuls of the scent there. lips parted against your skin. The ache between his thighs forgotten. Teeth almost pressed and bared. But he wouldn't dare nip at you, not when you're sat in Hoseok lap.

This time when apologies dribble from his lips, Hoseok feels like he means it. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry. I won't do that again in front of her- I didn't mean too-"

Hoseok presses his shoe against Jungkook's cock again, This time there's no fabric guarding the harsh dig of the leather and tred from dimpling Jungkook's skin. The alpha yelps. Thighs shaking with the effort it takes him to stay still. Body going rigid.

When Hoseok takes his shoe off, there's a bit of white wet liquid, staining the dark leather. Hoseok's smile is near feral.

"All will be forgiven, Don't you want to show hyung how good you can be? I think you owe our pup a little stress relief Kookie." Hoseok simply shifts you in his lap. Draping one leg over either knee. Fingers dipping between your legs, low. Fingers parting warmth and sweet. Jungkook's blubbering cuts off.

"All you have to do it open your mouth and apologize."

~-~

Jungkook had been sorry, for almost inadvertently pushing your capabilities. The whole world treats omega's like this- like they are inherently fragile.

You are someone that the fans would never shove or push at. It's generally considered a taboo to be rough with omegas at all and more than one idol has had to issue a public apology after tugging their omega's hand a little too roughly at the airport or through crowds of fans.

At least outside of private matters. Behind closed doors, it's more up to what the individual omega wants. At least that's what Hoseok's learning with you.

It's also considered the bare minimum to provide for your omega an extravagant life. That at least- Hoseok does not struggle with. It's easy to spoil you, instinctual almost. To protect and provide and please.

All in all Hoseok is more straightforward that you might expect, he'll give his pack everything so long as they hold nothing back in return.

Being on tour with him means you can try things you wouldn’t ordinarily eat and go places you wouldn’t normally go. To art museums and shopping districts for pretty little diamond studded collars and comfortable designer nesting supplies. Café's for famous desserts shaped like flowers and figs, and even the exclusive omega section at Fao Schwartz.

The packages for that have already been sent back to Seoul where they no doubt fill the entryway of the pack house. Probably carefully unwrapped and organized by yoongi, still in their silk bags on the border of your personal nest at home. A custom-made monstrosity that Hoseok had made for you and Yoongi designed that cost a small fortune.

But Hoseok had no qualms with him spending the pack's money on that. Not even back at the beginning of your courtship and relationship. Nothing but the best for you.

But delicate requests for room service and delivery from a restaurant you’d wanted to try with a promise for more at the next tour stop are now forgotten. Everything is forgotten now that you're sick.

He’s aware he’s been followed, his manager, a bodyguard, a makeup Noona trail behind him as he stalks in the direction of the dressing room. Where his clothes are, where he can get his things and leave. He can feel the rage polishing his canines already.

It makes his grin wider, teeth sharper in the privacy of darkness. Hoseok is snarling at the shadows, the toothy grin crazed as he finally makes it back to the dressing room. Tearing off his jacket popping the buttons and ripping the hem of it in the process.

It can be fixed before the next performance. Hoseok would rip 100 jackets to get home to you even a second quicker.

Unlike usual, no one offers him congratulations and he doesn’t offer any thanks or encouragement. His hands shake as he bends down to undo his shoes, all but yanking them off of him. His necklaces get tangled around his fingers, 7 of them- one for each packmate, and the second he starts to tear at them. Someone reaches for him- to stop him.

Hoseok turns and nearly lunges at Mr. Lee.

Hoseok imagines it perfectly, teeth sinking in, popping through skin and blood. The image is so visceral that Hoseok almost confuses it with reality. The familiar iron tang on the back of his throat what his instincts demand.

He stops himself just narrowly before he can get to his throat. He loses a growl. A sound so bone chilling that no one dare moves a muscle.

Only pure familiarity keeps him from actually biting the other man. the fact that Hoseok's alpha has sort of identified him as someone safe. But the scent of alpha aggression in the air makes everyone, even the lowliest stagehand, pause where they’re gathered. Hoseok bares his teeth and breathes. Struggling to contain himself.

Mr. Lee doesn't flinch, doesn't even raise his eyebrows at Hobi, looking at him with that same impassive expression. Not intimidated in the slightest by Hoseok snapping his teeth.

His hand smooth over the necklaces. He lets go of Hoseok gently.

Honestly, he should be more careful, they were gifts from the pack. The pack like matching their clothes, their shoes, their jewelry, and matching pack items are fairly common, especially in larger packs.

Hoseok in particular likes to have one thing from each of them on his person at most times, especially when he's traveling. Especially since he hasn't given any of them mating bites yet (none of them could stomach the idea of doing it before service). A little memento to keep them close. The biggest necklaces are from Yoongi and Namjoon and the smallest one is from you. Each of them cost no small sum, they're monetarily valuable as well as sentimental to Hoseok.

Hoseok doesn't thank Mr.Lee as he holds his breath, counts to seven, and goes back to taking them off, this time more gently without yanking at the clasps hard enough to bend the metal. even though he's breathing heavy. even though his hands are shaking. Hoseok struggles but there’s already someone behind him undoing the clasps and finally, it feels like he can breathe.

“Sorry. I’m fine I’m fine just-” Hoseok scrubs his hand across his face. Holding the necklaces in one hand. The diamonds sway. long strands handing towards the floor.

“Can I change in the car?” Hoseok is not asking, even if it’s phrased as a question.

With the way Seejin is looking at him, Hoseok knows the answer, and that he doesn’t want to say it. “Fine just- hurry.” Everyone knows why he's on edge, why he’s off.

Everyone here is well acquainted with the pack's omega.

The first few shows you'd ever attended, you'd been quite the distraction. Falling asleep in Namjoon's lap during his makeup. tugging on Jungkook's shirt while he was getting dressed, playfully feeling Jimin's hair while he was warming up and cutting off his notes. Unwilling to let any of them go on stage without being scented. a reminder as you lingered in the wings of the stage, in their peripheral vision that made even Hoseok stumble.

Occasionally you still attend their concerts to remind them of the power you hold, that as much as you give in to their impulses, they're also beholdent to yours. The leash goes both ways.

You're a little bit of a legend among the makeup noonas, managers, and bodygaurds. Because before enlistment and before any of this, before you’d been theirs, you’d been here working alongside them- a member of the support staff.

~-~

Omegas aren’t officially banned from working, not in any legal or governmental capacity.

Every few years some asshole petitions the current government to put some ban on them working and demand they remain registered to one alpha and one alpha only as is natural. But in all reality, the world could not survive without omegas at least taking some modicum of independence for themselves.

A good number of them appreciate their freedom. Just not you.

Hoseok doesn't like to consider the world where there are no working Omega's, a world where they aren't allowed to help. Now that he's seen the military, and seen what it's like when alphas are taken outside of their normal routine and pack structure and put all together. The idea is even more unsettling.

Without omega's, alphas would break out into all-out war.

Hoseok imagines The rage. The quiet of devastation of murder out of necessity. Alphas already have a hard time restraining their instincts even with an omega. Every few weeks there are stories of some alpha going feral on the news. Can you imagine going 8 weeks without being scented? That sounds terrible. I don't think I'd last 4.

Omega’s are too gentle to do most jobs that aren't specifically designed for them. Omegas are sensitive, in need of protection from just about everything. No fear is too small, not fear of thunder or fear of darkness. Anything that can lurk can be killed, and alphas will kill for omegas. It’s a culturally accepted fact.

No alpha can maintain their instincts for long and keep them under control without an omega scenting them docile at least once a week, it's biological, a necessity as much as drinking water or eating. For beta's its slightly less- they get more snapish than feral. they need it maybe once a month.

Hoseok has still seen seokjin's hands shake, has still suffered through more than one sleepless night with jimin. His body and his brain fighting his instinct to stay awake.

There are modern solutions for age old problems of course. Before you the pack subsided the same way the rest of the population did. There are upscale scenting parlors on just about every street corner in the city, private institutions designed with open air booths or similar to cafes that pay out omega's handsomely for a little acess to their wrists or if they're feeling particularly brave- their throats.

Most priced too expensive for the average person to afford, let alone a couple of broke trainees drunk on foolish dreams. There are alternatives for most of the population. Synthetic omega scent (that always smelled too chemical to Hoseok) available for purchase at every convenience store. Fortified drinks with omega pheromones that sort of work that keep you awake when you need to make deadlines. Yoongi used to overindulge in them.

If you're willing to pay extra, you can even buy something that's actually been scented by an omega. They have boutiques for it.

Although very very few packs can have an omega- most idol companies at least employ one designated omega scenter. They’re becoming more and more popular. A perk, similar to a 401k or unlimited PTO. See you don't need to worry about who will scent you next. See, if you're having a bad day or need help pushing through, we have what many don't.

And still- despite their necessity. Not all societies worship omegas. In certain pockets of the world, omegas are thought of as spoiled and lazy. Some are even kept secret to keep their freedoms, their omegan instincts suppressed until later by medications.

Either consensually or non-consensually in your case. You hadn’t known, not until you were well into your teenage years and nearly a legal adult, that you were an omega. Your instincts remained mostly dormant (and what didn't stay dormant you neglected). sometimes you still struggle to understand what your omega wants.

The others just think you're a little more spirited than a regular omega. But Hoseok knows. Hoseok's alpha has always been able to sniff it out.

Hoseok's blood still boils when he thinks about what your parents did to you. They did it in the name of protecting you but still. He'll still rant if given the opportunity (as long as it doesn't set you on edge). Hoseok's ranting is usually met with understanding from the other alphas and chagrined comfort from the betas in his pack.

The alphas understand that the anger never really goes away. But Seokjin and Jimin are different. They get a little spooked when Hoseok shows how truly angry he is.

Jimin usually exits the room when the others decide to indulge hoseok when he wants to hash it out again. He and Taehyung and Yoongi and Namjoon will find themselves in Yoongi's studio with a twelve-pack or they'll hit golf balls off the roof of the company building when the restlessness of unmet anger really tares at them. Hashing it out yet again until the rage has quieted to a dulcet murmur and Hoseok feels like writing songs about it again.

But not now. Hoseok can't calm himself down right now- Not right now when you’re back in the hotel room running a fever. A fucking fever.

You can’t blame Hoseok. He’s protective of you for a reason. It’s not only the omega plague that has him concerned but…your general health.

It's been harder to resist the temptation to worry since after his military service. Without all of them here to temper his anger and calm him down, Hoseok's alpha has been running a little wild. Bubbling up under the surface. Constantly close and whispering in his ear.

You even thing you see it come out on stage sometimes. Sometimes when he commands the crowd or asks them to roar for him it feels almost like he's using alpha voice with them.

You’d noticed the shift in Hoseok the second he’d come back. The second he took off his uniform for the last time after 18 months. His instincts were closer to the surface than ever before. He was so quiet. So silent. None of his usual electric energy, none of his quiet sureness that you were so used to.

Hoseok hates to admit it and hates it when anyone brings it up, but military service had changed him (and not in a good way).

It’s a good thing he has you- if it wasn’t for you- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’d have been able to find his way back to himself.

~-~

Coming home went something like this:

His eyes were wide through the live, open and unsure, a dazed look, almost shell shocked. Trembling with the new weight of old feelings. The position is familiar but the anxiety at his every move being watched- is unmatched. Like Jamais vu. How did being in front of the camera get so scary?

Hoseok used to be so good at this- at being an idol. They used to do this all the time almost without thought before enlistment. Are his movements too jerky? Can the fans tell that he's about to burst into tears? Can they tell? do they notice?

Is Hoseok not good at this anymore?

Leaving his station had felt like walking away from a nightmare only to find himself still asleep, somewhere between a night terror and a sweet dream. Because you were there in the van. You were there. A small body that nearly collided with his with how fast you pushed yourself to grab him the second he'd opened the door, A hand on your back and Hobi's neck, Yoongi close behind.

The cameras had only gotten one picture. Small arms wrapped around his waist and a blurry profile of a face pressed into his stomach.

Now, he listens to the sound of Yoongi prattling to Jin in the kitchen. sitting on the edge of your bed in the packhouse trying to decompress. there's an invitation to shower off the scent of the barracks before dinner that remains unfulfilled. The air smells like garlic and gochujang. the tang of ssamjang too. Smoke and fire. hoseok still hasn't undressed.

But Hoseok just sits on the bed. Hoseok can't move, lead weights attached to his extremities. Frozen there. Listening to the three of you and scenting the air.

the whole house smells like you, Jin, and Yoongi. just the three of you. none of the other alpha's, not Jimin. Hoseok never thought it would smell strange to him. Never thought that it would smell even a little unfamiliar.

Yoongi is all tangerine goodness. Bright and fragrant just on the edge of ripeness. Jin is soft as a peach, sweet and gentle. But You- oh you-

You smell like warm berry jam and nighttime summer air. Something drippy sweet and dark. Like the hint of sunshine and warmth and like syrup moving slow. Those early summer evenings where you can still smell the sun on the air even though it's already set.

Hoseok breathes it in through his teeth, Gritted. On edge. Alpha close under his skin.

Jin's teasing and Yoongi's low murmur fill the air around your bird chirps and squeaks, even when he falls silent. Absorbing it all, adjusting. It's only been a few hours. Only a few. Hoseok should cut himself some slack for not immediately being chipper and lighthearted.

Yoongi sounds relieved and excited even from here. There’s expensive champagne to celebrate (Hoseok hardly tasted his glass when he downed it, trying to calm his nerves) and a home-cooked meal that Hoseok has been looking forward to for months.

He hears the murmurs too, Yoongi breathing heavy, tense. Words he thinks Hoseok can't hear. "He's so skinny hyung, I saw him take off his jacket and I could see every tendon."

"I know, I know, but he's back now, he's safe, that's all we can change now. At least it's over for him."

"But the others."

"Baby I know." A quiet whine, a chirp. "don't you worry your little head about it darling, you just sit there, would you like to try the first piece? it's almost done. You don't need to save it for alpha, he'd want you to have it." It takes everything in Hoseok not to storm into the other room and feed it to you himself.

Hoseok knows what he looks like, knows that he's skinnier than normal, that he looks underfed and somehow more muscular than before. starved for something that isn't food maybe. the military keeps alphas well fed but not satiated. feeds them enough protein and wolfsbane to make them stronger and yet more susceptible.

But in the meantime worry and anxiety have eaten away at him. His cheeks are hollow and his thin birdlike bones look like they've been wrapped with corded muscle. You'd squeezed them appreciatively earlier, the same as you had with Jin. And Yoongi's eye roll had been hassling. But even the other alpha smelled pleased.

"Yah what am I going to do, if they all come back like this it's going to be me and you against the world pup." You'd giggled, and Hobi had delighted you by letting you hang from his arm.

hoseok couldn't explain why when he looks at you he feels like crying. you're wrapped in your most comforting clothing, an old sweatshirt of his that he hasn't worn in two years and has a new hole at the hem like you've worn it every day in his absence. Giggling softly as you try and hang. Yoongi's hand twitches like he's sort of ready to catch you incase you teeter.

"You're so strong now! Bet you're stronger than Jungkookie even! you can lift me all the time not just when you wanna show off!"

"He could always lift you pup," Jin had crooned looking down at you, a head taller, stooping to drop a kiss on your forehead. His knowing smirk light and teasing. "Hobi just feels like lifting you is more for him than for you so he resists, kind of like how I feel about hugging- like this."

Jin has the longest arms but for what he can't reach Yoongi makes up for. The second he reaches around you and Hobi- Yoongi mirrors him. Both of them are in sync and Hoseok mistimed. off beat. Missing a step. Yoongi and Jin squeeze both of them pushing their chests together and trapping both you and Hobi in a Yoonjin sandwich.

Hoseok can feel how gently they do it. going slow so as to not aggravate his instincts. His alpha cocks his head, unused to the careful affection. They keep squeezing until both of you devolve into giggles and until Hoseok is laughing for real. Unbidden, face crumpling towards the end.

The pack house is part of a gated community. Insulated from the public eye by high walls and a guarded gate. It’s a mixture of modern Western architecture on the outside and traditional Korean wood tones and airy skylights on the interior.

Everyone has a bedroom although they more often than not find themselves scattered in pairs or trios. When the pack doesn't have a schedule to attend to the following day and your health allows for it- they pile into your bedroom heaped all over each other. Unworried about sleeping in uncomfortable positions or needing to wake up everyone to pee.

It's adjacent to your nest room and the kitchen on the ground floor- because you were as equally as prone to bumping into things and tripping as Namjoon. The pack couldn’t bear the idea of you having to go up and down the stairs every night.

You could call them overprotective and you would be right. Your comment about Hoseok carrying you wasn't just teasing. You're lucky your alpha's keep you on such a long (and thankfully metaphorical) leash.

Many many omegas find themselves in more controlling situations than you do. Monitored, and kept safe by personal bodyguards or packmates (often times beta's or lower ranking alphas whose sole job in the pack structure is to protect and guard the pack's omega).

The closest thing you have to that is Jungkook and Taehyung. You don't think it's that over the top. In some parts of the world omega's occasionally disappear. Snatched from street corners or stolen from nests in the dead of night. Usually just after the presentation when they haven't found a pack yet to keep them safe.

You're lucky that the pack only sometimes ask to carry you up and down the stairs. You're lucky they don't have the habit of 'omega wearing' as some more traditional all-alpha packs do. No one's kept omega's like that- as little more than pets- in generations. You don't live in a country that requires omegas to wear a collar when they're out in public.

But still, sometimes it's hard not to be protective. You're used to most of it, every time that you so much as pick up a butter knife someone's shushing you and taking it from you. When you bend down to tie your shoes someone is already on their knees before you. Your jacket is always zipped for you, mittens always on, scarf tucked. Whenever you try and put a shirt over your head someone is aiding you. You've lost track of the times that you've heard them say "let alpha do it."

Jimin doesn't even ask, he just glares and puts his hands on his hips if you struggle too much. Surprisingly stern when you feel like you want to squirm or struggle. He's one of the very few packmates whose not uncomfortable landing a swat over your behind or making you write lines.

Jimin is very very particular about the rules. there are others that apply to the rest of them like 'no staying at the studio over night' and 'pt once a week, no butts' and 'no skipping meals for practice' but there are other ones specifically for you that go a little over the top.

Rules like I will tell my packmates when I'm feeling overstimulated and I will not go places in public alone without someone there to protect me. I will not behave in a way that puts my physical wellbeing in danger even inadvertently. If I go into omegaspace I will go and get someone no matter what they're doing because I cannot be left alone unsupervised.

Other things too like- when i feel needy i will not touch myself like a greedy little pup when I have 7 healthy packmates to fuck me. When I want a knot I will not demand it but ask for it nicely and say please and thank you. I will not take out my plug after breeding until Jiminie or Hoseokie or Namjoonie has told me I can. When I want bruises during a spanking or a settling I will clear it with every alpha first starting with Hoseokie and then Yoongi and Namjoon, then Jinnie, and Jungkookie and Taehyungie, only then will Minnie take you over his lap.

And you'll say please and thank you.

You're getting a bit ahead of yourself. Jimin is a very very particular beta. You miss him so much it aches. You miss all of them so much it hurts you, manifests as a physical ache in your temples or under your ribs. A breathless furious need to burrow away where no one could see you. unsafe without your familiar cadre of packmates.

Most of the ways that they take care of you are completely innocent. A tangle in your hair is hardly there before someone asks you to come sit between their thighs, brush in hand. You rarely ever have to sit on your own, a rotating schedule of who gets to have you in their lap during meal times. You haven't picked out your own clothes in years- someone's always there to do it for you.

At least not before enlistment.

After enlistment, you'd learned to do alot for yourself again. With Yoongi home in the evenings, it wasn't quite as lonely as it could have been but still-

It's the little things, that you'd struggled to accept at first that you ended up missing the most. It's insane to you now how you used to live before. That you were used to being independent and uncared for.

Maybe the truth is you don't hate all of it. It was so much nicer than being hissed at and shunned. You don't hate it when you fall asleep in the car or the couch and Namjoon or Hoseok carries you to your bed. You don't hate it when you're in public and someone is always gripping your arm or hold your wrist and guiding over every uneven doorway or step down. holding the back of your head when they guide you to bite. You don't mind the "hold my hand pup" or "Someone's too small for that, let alpha do it."

It's strange sure, but it's a little true. even when you don't want to admit it.

It's strange when Seokjin blows on your spoon of soup before letting you take a bite. When the alphas growl at you if you linger too close to someone who's not them- But it makes you feel comfortable and cared for in a way that you weren't always used to.

Treasured. That's the word for it. You're their treasure. You don't cringe about it when you remember anymore. (The truth is that the pack has made you a bit spoiled now. You don't resist their babying nearly as much as you used too).

It had felt like something of a game at the beginning. You asked for things to see if you could and they fulfilled it, only to shrink before what they actually wanted to give. But eventually you got so used to them handling everything that even when you'd squirmed and struggled and called too much you'd trusted them enough to let them push- and you'd eventually given in.

Maybe you'd be more used to it if you were born an omega (you were born an omega, you try to remind yourself. It just feels like you weren't sometimes).

Now their bedrooms are spaces that you haunt when you miss them. when they're home there are still moments when they each need their own space to either sleep without temptation or decompress after their busy schedules. It serves no one if they always wake each other up by leaving early for filming, or practice, or meetings.

The only bedroom that’s fit with a bed big enough for all of them is your bedroom, more out of necessity than anything else since your bed is the defacto favorite. You’d tried for a normal bed when you’d first moved in but found it quickly overrun and too crowded by packmates. Giving you the largest bedroom was something Hoseok insisted upon.

His own bedroom is now across the courtyard next to Yoongi’s, hardly used. Last time Hoseok checked, Yoongi had taken to storing some of his recording equipment in there, had propped the old bed up against the wall to make room for a pseudo recording studio. Before enlistment Hoseok rarely spent a night away from you, only if you were sick again and if he had an early schedule and didn’t want to wake you- and even then- he'd just rather steal away to someone else's room rather than sleep on his own.

The packhouse is arranged in a big rectangle with an open-air courtyard at the center. The soil there is crammed close with as many plants as Namjoon can stuff there. Tended to by staff twice a week now that the alpha isn’t home regularly to look after his precious camellia and cloud-pruned spruces. The cherry tree sits stubby, blooms just tempting to burst but not here yet. by spring time a small patch of grass will sit studded with clovers and small flowers, a spot for you to lounge in the middle of the day and curl up like a cat in a puddle of sunshine.

Hoseok and Yoongi are on the other side of the courtyard adjacent to the entrance. close to it just incase anyone tried to enter. The rest of the pack is upstairs. In their various bedrooms scattered between the workout room and entertainment center a larger studio space and a tiny art room where taehyung stores his canvases.

Now, Hoseok sits in your empty bedroom. Trying to decompress. Emphasis on trying.

It's hard when every time he shuts his eyes a new memory assaults him. It's hard to stay present. Hoseok knows his breathing is getting more and more ragged the longer he spends alone. It's so quiet here in the pack house. Hoseok's alpha doesn't like it.

Hoseok closes his eyes and a gun goes off. The feeling of a gun in his hand is heavy and impersonal. Hot and sweaty beneath his fingertips.

He opens them and sees your striped red and pink robe hanging by the door, side by side with Taehyung's green and yellow one. Yours warn and his brand new but both of them purchased on the same day. Taehyung just hasn't been here to use it.

He closes them and a sergeant is yelling in his face. Prodding his shoulder with their finger until his body moves. Hoseok can feel the growl in his throat threatening to burst.

Hoseok opens his eyes and notes that you've dropped one of your heated stuffed animals on the ground, that it's rolled half under the bed, he retrieves it and sets it on the bedside table.

Hoseok blinks again and Hoseok must not be composed enough. He must lift his lip because they're yelling at him to drop and give 50. But it's better than being on night watch for a week. Better than sleepless nights spent staring into the darkness and snow, not better than your bed here, plush and soft, smelling like good summer evenings.

Hoseok undresses in the barrack bathroom shoving the second someone comes too close, body-calling threats before he's even turned to see who it is. Hot water is better than the cold that digs into Hoseok's body like it's something with teeth and claws.

On night watch near the northern border. His fear plays tricks on him, you can only look into the darkness for so long before your mind plays tricks on you. You can only hunt monsters and play at being a killer before you start to feel too real.

Hoseok takes a deep breath and counts to seven.

Tonight is supposed to be full of his favorite things. Marinated crispy beef and seafood that smells rich and buttery on the air, music playing low. Things that Hoseok hasn’t been able to indulge in in months.

Like Yoongi’s cooking and your head in his lap after. Winding down and going slow. Easy slowness warming up to it so that Hoseok can start to get used to living again. He'll go back to work tomorrow with Jinnie because he doesn't have time to waste but with this and everything else. He'll adjust.

Hoseok doesn't have to be asleep tonight by the zero hour and doesn't have to be up tomorrow morning for early drills. He can sleep as long as he wants and He's not going to be able to enjoy it at all. Not while he's so keyed up.

He tries and does his best. Breathing in and out to calm his heart rate, decompressing in the half-darkness of the bedroom. It feels a bit too much like a shrine. There in the corner is Taehyung's record player collecting dust, and there on the shelf is Jimin's cologne.

Jimin doesn't always like to hide his scent, lightly floral, something delicate like roses or lychee, fruity and divine for a beta. You like to press your face into his throat hard enough to make Jiminie giggle. Hard enough to tip him over. He's prone to exaggeration. But when it comes to others outside of the pack Jimin prefers to hide his scent with a light layer of cologne, pushing it just a little more subdued, a little more masculine.

Scents are up to everyone's preference, and a fair amount of betas wear scent blockers and Jimin prefers to keep his scent for only the pack to indulge in and enjoy.

Namjoon's bonsai tree sits in the nook by the window, clipping shears and a pair of reinforced gloves (because the pack can't even let you handle scissors without worrying a little). A piece of Jungkook's artwork hangs above the bed. something that was sort of a courting present for you, it's mostly artful splatters but when you look at it in just the right light- it almost looks like a pair of eyes. Pieces are everywhere but no pack.

All of it, all of those months of discipline and control are gone now. Done and over. Everything is in frightening detail. His civilian clothes sit folded, his jacket off in just his undershirt now.

You scented them. Hoseok can smell it even without bringing it to his nose. Everything feels a little too sensory, a little too close. Like Hoseok is too aware of his body and how different his surroundings are. He closes his eyes because he can't bear how strange his life all looks.

Hoseok knew he had to be the first alpha out, he knew that this would be difficult. That it would be hard for the others to adjust and that it would be beneficial for them all if the pack alpha came home and got settled first. Hoseok can't imagine any of his alpha pups feeling this way, can't imagine Taehyung or Namjoon or Jungkook feeling like this. So tremulous, so fragile, and yet so volatile.

There are no barked orders, there is no rigorous schedule here. Just the scrape of a wooden spoon across a pan and the quiet comfort of home (but hoseok still feels homesick). Jin's creaky laugh, and the burst of champagne. The shuffle of slippered feet across the floor too.

You’re talking to them in the kitchen, can hear Yoongi ask if you need help carrying Hoseok's champagne glass to him- a silly thing to say. but instincts are a little silly sometimes. Hoseok swallows back a lump in his throat at it.

It's not like you’re strangers again, he's had nightly phone calls and daily texts and a night or two of leave a month. It’s only been weeks since he last saw you. But keeping it together for a day before he goes back to the day-in-day-out rigor of the military is different than coming home for good.

This means more, this is different. Hoseok isn't going back. He's never going back.

He holds his breath and counts to seven, then 14, then 21, 35, 49, until he's half gasping.

Hoseok feels the need to catalog everything, the curtains pulled against the window. when did you stop sleeping with the sunlight?Your slippers by the door, new. The plates in the kitchen green instead of white. What happened to your old ones? When did you stop wearing bunny slippers and start wearing matching kitty ones with Yoongi? What more has Hoseok missed by not being here?

The scent of omega anxiety is on the air, scared and nervous. You’d been feeling all those things this morning when you’d woken. Hoseok can smell it on the bed. A nightmare? Have you been having nightmares? Is that what it is?

That’s not all Hoseok can smell, the dewy sweet scent of omega slick lingers too. Slightly stale. The spicey tang of another alpha’s arousal also tingles at Hoseok's nose. Yoongi’s and Jin’s if Hoseok breathes deep, tracing the fresh scent of tangerines and peaches, a pure scent that deepens. Soothing, a balm to his nerves and likely yours.

Whatever solution the others found for your anxiety was the intimate sort. Hoseok can tell.

Just like he can tell that someone had stripped the sheets, had taken your clothes- drenched with the scent of omega arousal, out of the basket in the corner and taken it out, probably to keep Hoseok from scenting it, probably to keep Hoseok from being on edge.

but instead of making him comforted, it just makes him feel like a failure.

Failure, failure of a pack alpha. what kind of alpha is he that he can't even handle a hint of a nightmare? He’s angry, and not at you or at Jin or Yoongi, but at the situation. At things he can't change.

Hoseok can't hear your light footsteps. Can hear them get closer and closer and closer until you're a silhouette in the doorway, lingering, unsure. Catching him like this, sat on the edge of the pack bed, legs parted, head in his hands.

Hoseok opens his eyes; a shadow cuts across the light that streams in, and he flinches before he can stop himself.

“Hobi? Are you alright?” You take a step closer to him and he tenses. You notice, stopping in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Hobi-" you make to take another step closer and he lets out a sound, neither a hiss nor a whimper, neither a warning growl nor an invitation to come closer. Threat and protector blur.

For a second Hoseok's unsure if it's safe for you to be alone in the room with him.

“Stay back for a second pup, I’m sorry I’m just-” He takes off his beret, running his hands over his spiky hair. You probably thought that Hoseok went to shower minutes ago, not that he'd just be sitting here. “This is a little overwhelming.”

"What is? Us? Should we-" Hoseok nips it before your emotions have the chance to spiral.

“No. Not you- never you. Just-" he exhales shakily, trying to tame his racing heart rate. No matter how many times he tells himself there's no reason to be so on edge, Hoseok just can't will himself to relax.

"Is it being home? Being out?” Being free. It goes unspoken but Hoseok hears it and feels it regardless. He never imagined freedom to feel so stifling. To feel so unsure about his next move that he can't even make himself get up off this bed without worrying that he's going to lose control.

“No, it’s my instincts. I feel…” he trails off, resting a hand over his heart and hissing through it. You take a step back; his closed eyes shoot open and he lets out a growl. A real one. You freeze.

The tension is so thick in the air Hoseok could cut it with a dull knife. Do not let the omega escape, sweet omega, pretty omega, omega under your thumb. Protect devour provide devour, please.  His instincts are practically howling out in his ear. Loud, drowning out your words, the concern.

There is a furrow between your eyebrows, Hoseok wants to smooth it out and then bite your cheeks, round and flushed. Why are you blushing?

It takes him a second to answer. He registers you've asked him another question but he can't even hear it over the roar of his heartbeat.

“Sorry. Feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Oh you- oh Hobi. You’re alright. It’s over. We’re gonna be okay.” He hums skeptically when you say it. Blinking rapidly. He hopes its so dark you don't see the glassiness to his eyes. He doesn't respond right away. Can't.

It’s a reminder he’ll need again. He's going to need to hear you say it about a dozen times over the next week. You'll repeat it to him whenever his instincts get like this; whenever they go a little feral. A little haywire. He's not sure if he wants to burst into tears or stalk across the room and pin you to the wall.

It takes a second for Hoseok to work up the courage to be honest. A few seconds where you wait, swaying slightly in the doorway. You're wearing a matching pj set, the top has little iridescent buttons that catch the light like the eyes of a sea creature. The object of his every frustration and all his desires. The confession lurches from his chest, feels like a knife, and feels near violent. 

“I’m worried I don’t know how to be gentle with you anymore. They made me so- I’m worried I’ve forgotten. I don’t- I can’t-”

“What do you want to do right now? Tell me what you need.” your tone leaves no room for his anxiety and Hoseok realizes that his breathing has gone jagged. Hoseok is barely contained, teeth bared, alpha going wild at your scent. This time when you step closer, his alpha lets out a growl purr. A pleased sound, a soothing one. Tempting you closer. His legs are splayed, and a few more steps and you'd be standing in between them.

Hoseok’s hands are fisted in the sheets. He doesn't know if he can hold himself back. “Pup- I don’t, I can’t- i'm going to attack you-”

“Alpha.” Your voice cuts through the bullshit. You step closer and this time he doesn’t flinch away. You set your hand on his knee. Gentle. Barely touching. “What do you need alpha? What are your instincts telling you to do right now?”

He surges forward, stopping himself at the last moment. Your back against the door, swathed in shadow, a column of light flat across his face. Nose to nose with you. He grips your cheeks instead of your throat. You don't flinch and you don't sigh. Your reaction is immediate. Pushing into his touch. Hoseok's whole body is trembling with the effort it takes to stay gentle.

Hoseok hisses through his teeth. “My instincts are telling me you don’t smell like me anymore. That I need to bend you over this bed and make you mine from the inside out. Then take you out there and do the same to Yoongi and Jin until everyone's mine again. I want to devour you until there's no question who you belong to- until the whole world knows you're mine.”

He breaks off with a contemplative hum, and you realize how much his muscles are trembling, the dark tilt of his eyes as he stares at you, the dilation to his pupils. It’s faint, but it’s there. The physical strength it takes to hold himself back- you can't imagine.

he rests his forehead against yours. and his hand tightens to a fist on the wall. He lets your face go to skim his hand down your throat, feeling your pulse. Beating out a 120 tempo against his fingers. Then to your waist. Only a fool would mistake his touch for anything but claiming.

If you ran, Hoseok would catch you. You kind of want to do that, to run and have him hunt you down. You wouldn’t get far probably not even to the doorway. You imagine him taking you right there right where Yoongi and Jin could see.

They'd probably just tease you both and keep cooking.

Hoseok's hands smooth up and down your sides, from your spine to your ass. You let him touch. You're his in every way that matters anyway. You don't react or at least you try not too. You jump a little, when he squeezes, hissing appreciatively. His fingers continue to touch, to devour, slipping lower, palming, between your legs from behind.

He brushes something sensitive and you jerk. He growls. "Stay still omega."

"Trying alpha it's just-"

He undoes the buttons one by one on your top, hands surprisingly steady until it falls away from your shoulders. Hoseok nuzzles. Dark hair tucked beneath your chin as he mouths at your scent gland, hot breath dusting your skin. You're not worried or shy, Hoseok has seen all of you. You stay still until you feel the press of his teeth, jerking.

He squeezes your hip, reassuring you. The tension dissipates just a little.

"I’m so tired,” he laughs, and it sounds sad even to your own ears. He pulls back away from your skin, lips glossy and he rubs his hands over his face and then his hair. Your body burns when his hands leave your skin. It looks like it takes him real effort.

He leaves you there, standing half undressed by the doorway, shucking off his own shirt as he goes, setting it on the bed. Back to you.

There are bruises on his spine, up and down his back from a heavy pack or the strap of a gun you're not sure. You stumble forward, still half winded to touche them. Hoseok's body stills when he feels you come close.

You trace over them softly. Hoseok's breathing is so measured you know each breath must take herculean effort.

There have been so many weeks of teasing that have led up to this. Picture after picture, you pouting asking for your favorite alpha home. Pictures that Hoseok dared only open in the privacy of the bathroom that left little to the imagination. A shot of Yoongi's head between your thighs, a shot of you nesting in next to nothing. Virtual bait and blood in the water to Hoseok's hungry alpha more than willing to take a bite. All to give him something else to think about during that home stretch.

You wrap your arms around him and press your bare front to his warm back.

“I'm so tired that I don’t think I can be gentle, and I want to be gentle with you. I can’t not be gentle with you. I don't think I could do it without loosing control.” His fingers are mostly gentle as they pinch your cheeks, making your lips pout out. It's a little goofy.

Your eyes already look shiny, and he almost jerks when he registers the scent of slick on the air.

“Then don’t be gentle.”

“Pup.” There's a warning in his voice and he looks visible startled when he turns around. He pulls back until you let go of him, turn around. but you're not dissuaded easily, arms loose until he grabs your wrists. no matter how hard you pull you can't get them out of his grasp. but that's sort of the point.

You let Hoseok hold you, let him keep you still, a teasing smile on the edge of your lips. He huffs after a second, palms sliding up to your elbows. "You're gonna make me get more grey hairs."

"but you love me anyway?"

Hoseok nods. "but i love you anyway."

“if you can't be- then don't. Don’t be gentle, I don't care.” You’d tilted your head to the side. “Please alpha.”

Hoseok is a weak weak man. Hoseok cannot hold himself back from you. Not today. Hoseok proceeds to do exactly that, hunting and running and all. you smile and bolt, and hoseok bends to his instincts just this once.

You don't make it farther than the doorway.

Sprawled and giggling. Somewhere along the next few minutes, the sound of Seokjin and Yoongi cooking quiets, they listen but they don't interrupt. You try to push, try to fight but it's futile. it's all a game. Giggling all the while and it's like candy and conquest.

Hoseok's mouth runs wild like this- instinctual and driven.

"Is it too big for you little pup? Poor little omega stuck on a big knot, making you feel all full. Don't worry, alpha will fuck you until you're used to it again, until you feel empty without it. Keeping me warm and snug, is it too much? Don't cry, alpha will make it better. Alpha will keep you safe."

By the end of it. You'd been dazed and boneless, little more than a puddle of whimpers and whines. He had carried you tender and knotted to him in the direction of his pack. Instincts driving him to show (Hoseok is little better than a pup bringing his packmates a stick. See? See how good I bred omega, see how good I knotted her. She smells good and I made her this way for you. If he had a tail it would be wagging behind him.)

Dinner and celebration traded for a different sort of meal. Hoseok sits with you in his lap at the kitchen island. Yoongi dries his hands slowly from the sink and curses low when Hoseok holds you under your thighs, back to his chest. Spreading you for him.

"Fuck- I forgot how it looks like when you knot her it's so-"

It will take a good hour for Hoseok's knot to go down. Until then, the pack will play with you as they see fit, completely at their mercy, just the way that Hoseok likes you.

You always get a little bit more suggestible when you're knotted. Hoseok likes to think that you don't let them do everything they want to you when you are knotted but…you sort of do. While you're more than comfortable telling them off and showing off any wandering hands normally (and there are alot of wandering hands) you're almost docile when you're knotted to Hoseok.

Being knotted to the pack alpha is a bit of an invitation. Hoseok has watched the others jerk off over your chest like this, has watched them go between your legs and lap and suck to their heart's content, seen them kiss and suck until your eyes have rolled back. He doesn't mind. It doesn't make his instincts feel threatened. It feels good.

But only if Hoseok lets them. Maybe that's why you let them do it because in these moments, your bodies are locked together- you belong solely to Hoseok.

Hoseok's nose traces over your spine, over the nape of your neck. His alpha likes it very very much. The other alpha's like it too.

Now Yoongi eyes the spot where you stretch around him, the place you go pink and dewy, licking his lip and adjusting himself in his pants. Hoseok knows there's not a thing in the world he wouldn't give up for this.

Hoseok reaches between your legs. You whine when you feel him touch you, eyes fluttering against his throat, but Hoseok tips his fingers into your dewy folds, parts your lips and shows them. "opened right up, cute little cunt. Your whole body is lax, head full of mango colored cotton. the haze of pleasure just a little too much, a little too much to sort out your desire to please from everything else.

distantly you can hear yoongi's deep chuckle. "Your knot is the same size as mine. It looks like this when you do it too."

Yoongi's dark eyes are unreadable. The room smells like smoke, the burners are turned off, but no one is plating any food. Hoseok didn't even bother to undress just pulled down his pants enough to get his knot free. But you're nude clutched against his chest. Clothes torn up in the other room. Bite marks up and down your body.

Jin coos and looks you over. Hoseok feels…satisfied when the beta purrs in approval. The sight of it going straight to his head judging from the way his peach scent ripens on the air.

"It's different, it's different when it's yours."

You jerk once Jin comes close, his long fingers skimming places Hoseok can't see, buried against the back of your neck, mouthing at your nape hungry still. "Sensitive" you shutter but your pleas remain mostly ignored. a whine escapes your pressed lips and a furious blush lights down your midline. Jin keeps touching you. Hoseok wraps his arms around your middle to stop your squirming. Keeping you still so that the beta can do what he wants with you.

"Alpha bit me there too." You mumble against Hobi's throat, shifting restlessly from whatever Jin is doing. Shifting more. "Jinnie- I'm sensitive,"

You nearly flinch, but Jin's thumb presses. "Oh here? Right here?" Hoseok's teeth dip into the nape of your neck and you go boneless. Hobi laps at the pink skin when he pulls back. you pant openly, incapable of letting out more than whines.

"Let Jinnie see what alpha did to you pup." Jin drops to his knees to look closer and hobi holds you wider.

When he looks up, he makes eye contact with Hobi before you. His smile goes a little teasing.

"This little spot right? It's a very cute little spot, I understand why Hobi bit it."

Hoseok's nose traces your ear. "Don't act like it didn't make you cum." you sniffle but nod. Hoseok's knot throbs at your simple obedience. the way that you agree. It makes Hoseok want to bite you more if it's even possible. He laps at your throat some more to ignore the temptation.

"Oh? Alpha was mean? Let Jinnie kiss it better."

~-~

You end up ordering takeout. Yoongi burnt the meat too bad to be edible.

Later there is this; you cuddled up on his chest, nearly nude, wearing someone's boxers as shorts as you often do post-breeding. You claim it helps you feel closer to your alphas and although stealing clothes is pretty typical of an omega. Jin still teases, "you're not even wearing ours; those are Jungkook's."

Yoongi had stood up, pawing for his phone. "I'm gonna send him a picture- he's gonna love-" Yoongi's fingers pause on your hem. a shocked laugh bursting from his throat. "Hobi you literally left teeth marks on her ass."

Hobi's arms go firmer around you and he's about to apologize when you beat him to the punch. "I like it. If anyone gets angry tell them not to because I liked it. Makes me feel-" You shimmy and hiss at the ache in your body. "Makes me feel like I'm yours again."

There is a lump in Hoseok's throat, and his instincts go just a little more quiet. He's so fixated on that that he hardly hears your next reply, the teasing tone of your voice.

"And besides Jungkook's boxers are so much softer than yours."

"Yah-"

"You little brat." You shake against Hoseok's chest with the force of his laughter. And jump when yoongi reaches out to pinch the bruises. yoongi hadn't cum more than once earlier, and hoseok knows that although the other alpha is the least deprived out of all of them- he's still needy, still a little wound up by seeing it earlier.

They make eye contact over your head and Hoseok feels a little satisfied when yoongi looks away first.

"Fine, be like that, I'm gonna wash all my sweatshirts then and you won't have any left for your nest."

Your expression had gone suddenly panicked, "but- but-"

Now your bellies are full from takeout because Yoongi had actually ruined dinner- granted he had good reason to be distracted. Hoseok feels properly worn down, properly settled, there's still a tiny bit of anxiety in him, and his alpha still looms awfully close. But he knows that won't really go away for a good long while. Not until the whole pack is back here and safe. The doors locked and the windows shuttered.

Yoongi gets up when you ask for water, and Jin gets up when you realize you've neglected to put on your eye cream. Both strange things. In any other world Namjoon and Jimin would have done both of those things for you.

He might just confine them all to your bedroom for their first week back. His alpha likes the idea of that. You purr softly against his chest, and Hoseok holds around you with that same gentleness that he'd been craving earlier, finally capable of it with you smelling like him and the others too. They had only done the bare minimum of cleaning themselves up with lazy swipes of a damp cloth.

With three packmates wrapped around you, Hoseok under you, cheek resting over his heartbeat to listen, Yoongi against your back, and Seokjin at your front Hoseok finally feels like it's enough. You're safe like this. Nothing could ever hurt you.

Not even himself.

A concerning number of bruises trace up your thighs that Hoseok will apologize and worry over tomorrow. Even though you've told him you don't mind them- that you even like them. Everything can wait until tomorrow, healing included. Hoseok finally gets the courage to ask.

"When I came into this room, it set me off. I can tell you were anxious this morning when you woke up. What was it? Was it me?" He has to crane his neck to catch your expression and how your face goes from stricken to polished in a second.

"It was nothing, we handled it." Seokjin tries to smooth over it. But Hoseok’s warning growl cuts him off.

You trace mindless patterns over his heart, and your purr peters off. "I had this weird dream; it was a nightmare and just weird." You pause, looking up at him. Your expression is so calm that Hoseok doesn't believe it for a second. "In the dream you hated me, or at least really didn't like me." Hoseok's hold on you goes just a little tighter like his alpha is offended by the very idea of it. "There was glass everywhere and Tae was wearing pink."

Yoongi speaks, and Hoseok knows he's taking it seriously just trying to make you feel better by being a little silly."That's not that weird, Tae wears pink all the time."

"Only when he steals Jin's clothes."

"Did you know he got ketchup on the last one? I swear these kids-"

You peak up at Hobi tentatively. And he can tell that you're still a little upset by the dream. "Don't worry- I think by the end of the dream we loved each other and anyways-" You kiss his jaw, pecking at it and a lazy growl builds in his chest, spent cock twitching below you. His appetite is insatiable even after three rounds. Once on the floor, and again on the kitchen table. And again here.

"It didn't make any sense; Yoongi was a beta in it and Jinnie was an omega like me." you trace circles over his heart. "It was a bit ridiculous."

Jin ducks low pressing a kiss to your forehead, “yeah, as much as I love you being an omega I don’t know how you handle all of us pawing at you like this. I’d get like so overstimulated. And you’ve told me how sleepy you get.”

“Yeah, it is a little annoying, needing more sleep than you guys do to like. Function.”

"And like I could ever be anything but an alpha." Yoongi looks a little fragile, a little threatened by the dream. Hoseok wonders what else was in it if the other alpha is so on edge. Because there must have been more. “I can’t imagine not having instincts at all.” Jin pinches him and Yoongi jumps.

You don't have to look to know Jin's rolling his eyes. “Yeah like not growling and not nosing after anything that smells even a little bit sweet is such a curse.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when I was nosing at you yester-“ Yoongi is interrupted by a pillow to the face, feathers fluttering down as you giggle against Hobi's chest.

Hoseok ignores the bickering, still watching you. "What was I in your dream? Was I an alpha?"

"Yes, but you weren't mine." You scoot closer to him, wiggling like just the weight of your body isn't enough to get close enough. Hoseok has a feeling that in a few minutes, you're going to start tugging at the hem of his boxers and ask to cock warm him to sleep. Some nights your omega just doesn't like any distance between you and your pack alpha and now that you have him back you don't want to let him go even a little bit. You could use a plug- but your omega wouldn't like it now that you have the real thing.

(omega plugs are fairly standard, alot of packs make omega's wear them to sleep or when they go out. A physical reminder to the omega soft minded and a way to ensure they're docile. There are even fancy ones that log body temperature, dampness and location. Sending notifications to the alpha's phone and information like rem sleep and lengh of orgasam. The pack has never needed one of those with you.)

Now though hoseok wishes he had some sort of insight into what you're thinking as you rest your cheek on his chest and look up at him. frowning and thinking hard. hoseok's thumb rubs over the nobs of your spine, up and down.

“You kind of hated me and you were so sad. I couldn’t do anything about it. That's what made me anxious- the idea of you being sad and not being able to fix it.”

You turn to nuzzle into his shoulder. The movement is so routine, so normal it almost looks like breathing. Hoseok's heart hurts from it. Your scent smells a little disconcerted, a little worried. Like just the memory of the dream is enough to set you on edge. “Like I said it was a nightmare."

Hoseok just holds you tighter, dragging his cheek along the top of your head. His scenting is a little overkill given the circumstances. any alpha in a 3 mile radius would be able to tell it's him that's claimed you.

"Yeah," he says, voice rough and quiet. "Sounds like a nightmare to me too."

~-~ Stay tuned for the next part ~-~

Notes:

sometimes i feel like i frame certain scenes like i'm not like- writing a story so much as vissually looking at a tv and describing what i'm seeing. this is one of those fics that very much felt like that.

i feel like this story is more of a true story vs a plot. i've made no secret of the fact that what i really like about fanfiction is making a world that you can sink your teeth into- and i feel like this one- this universe with pack alpha hoseok is like- ugh so drippy. like i truly hope you leave reading it and feel frustrated that you're not there- even though not all of the things described in it are good. for that reason i think there's less plot in this. like i just want it to be something that envelops you- not necessarily something that progresses although there definitely is plot to it.

i toyed alot with the idea of having there be shifting wolves in the one. i put that little tidbit in with taehyung just incase i fell like touching on it here. but honestly i may not have enough time.

i think one of the scent fortified drinks that yoongi drank too much of in their trainee days was probably "omegabull" or "omegaster" idk i didn't put it in because it felt too goofy. my favorite redbull is cranberry flavor :) maybe i'd smell like cranberries if i was an omega?

okay so- the pack's scents in this- i know it's not mentioned all that much in the first chapter- but!!! their scents for hoseok and the m/c are what their scents would have been had they not been abused in bily- this universe is sort of a foil of the other one. but yeah- hoseok would have smelled like mangos :( i know not everyone will read bily who reads this so! i tried to make the allusions to it less on the nose than in the first draft.

tbh that little bit with the plates being new, this is a. a bily refrence because remember how yoongi breaks them when she leaves? yeah this version of yoongi also broke dishes when the pack left. BUT ALSO- i do think i wanna touch a bit more on yoongi and her's time alone togeather. i like the idea that in every universe, they have their moment where it's just the two of them.

the scene at the end is just hoseok: ready to pounce on the m/c scared of himself and the idea that he could hurt her meanwhile the m/c: thats hot.

the moment where he says "the object of his frustration and all his desires' is a nod to bridgerton because i was re-watching it and loving it.

if we're being honest i think that beta's might be intersex in this universe, do i really really wanna write jimin and her rubbing their pussies together? yeahhhhhhhh, am i actually gonna write it??? probably not.

[emmyrosee]

“You are SO dramatic, baby.”

Haruka glares at you for the nth time tonight. He glares at you a lot of times during the week because of this. Haruka is strong, painfully so, it’s taken you years of tender love and care to break down the walls he’s built around himself. You love him, all of him, his anger and toughness, his strength and the way he lets you into his mind.

You love the way he trusts you with all of the baggage, all the hesitance, all of his heart.

But there is a twisted part of you that does have the slightest twinge of dread for this. It’s impossible to do this without a fight, and some nights you just wish he’d just relent and trust you even more.

“I’m tired, just let me go to bed!”

“You haven’t finished your skincare! Not happening!”

His four step skincare routine takes at least 20 minutes to do every night. Sometimes you wish it would just take the five that it’s supposed to take.

And don't start about how long it takes to make him apply sunscreen in the morning, bumping his four steps into a whopping five. Your temples throb at the idea of having to do this again in less than 12 hours.

You shrug at him, "you do realize we could be done right now, in bed, snuggling-"

"I'm a man, I don’t snuggle.”

"And I refuse to go to bed with a crusty fiancee. Two fingers.”

“Yeah, I know, I heard you the first time,” he snarls.

“That’s crazy because you aren’t holding out your fingers for me yet.”

He blinks at you, completely unamused, flicking his wrist out at you and extending his middle and index finger for you. You smile and drop a few dribbles of serum in his fingertips. “Rub.”

“I know,” he groans again, smooshing the product into his fingers and ferociously rubbing it into his skin. “It’s been friggen seventeen minutes of two fingers and rubbing.”

You quirk your brow. He grimaces, “yeah, i heard it too, shut up and give me the next step.” You snicker, grabbing the moisturizer from the counter and playing with the cap while he rubs in the product, the sheen of the serum drying and his face relaxing as it does.

It's always facinated you to watch Haruka do this, in a twisted way, subjecting himself to a few minutes of grumpiness to make you happy (and it’s good for him, but you don’t tease him for that) every day, just to satiate you. He’s never been good at saying no to you, but as his brows unfurrow and his hands come back down for the next step, you’re almost positive he’s not as against this as he lets on.

He stops with a exhausted sigh, "next,” he says, holding out his fingers for the next and final moisturizer step. You’re quick to bend down and steal a kiss from his lips, making his eyes blow wide in shock. “The hell?”

“Thats for being a good sport,” you hum, pressing one more to his lips before straightening up.

He huffs, “was starting to wonder when being a good sport was gonna get me somewhere.”

You chuckle and gently dollop some moisturizer on your own fingers and rub them together, gently tipping his chin up to look at you. You gently start to smear the moisturizer on his face, your touch gentle and warm, and Haruka’s eyes gently shut, nuzzling into the palm of your hand. “Okay, now what’s this about?” He asks, but his voice is warbled behind his relaxed jaw, cradled in your hand.

“Nothing,” you mewl, gently cupping his cheeks and even more tenderly, rubbing the delicate skin at the corner of his eyes with your thumb, smoothing the skin from so many creases and wrinkles through the day. Grimacing, scoffing, furrowing, but on the occasion, smiling. “Just love looking at you.”

There’s a beat of silence, as Haruka’s pretty eyes open again, filled with trust and love and complete adoration for you. You smile, “thank you for letting me love you,” you whisper.

He’s quiet, cheeks blazing in a flush, but he’s not sputtering in indignation, nor reeling back from your grip. He’s blinking lazily, dopey from the love swirling in the air. It’s like he knows he doesn’t have to be embarrassed or afraid anymore, he’s safe to do nothing but feel when he’s around you.

He hums.

“Thank you for loving me.”

You smile.

“Always.”

[writingblognumber1]

Movie Night Rated R

- Sukuna x reader

-Contains: smut, fingering

- Movie night with your boyfriend Sukuna!

It was a seemingly innocent date night with your boyfriend Sukuna. Of course you opted for a scary movie, loving the idea of his big, strong arms wrapping around you to make you feel safe. You’re on the chaise lounge chair in his living room. He sits behind you, your back pressed to his chest and a half empty bowl of popcorn mixed with m&ms in your lap. It’s dark other than the light from the tv. An intense scene is happening on the screen and you set the bowl on the table, preparing to hide your face in his neck when you feel his breath against your cheek. His lips lightly brush against you and you can’t help it when you lay your head to the side, giving him more access. He chuckles against your ear and a shiver runs through you. Anticipation slowly builds in your lower belly.

“You scared?” Sukuna whispers. You bite your lip.

“Well yeah it’s a scary movie…” He laughs when you turn to pout up at him.

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” His arms wrap around you, sliding beneath your breast and pulling you closer to him.

It’s minutes later and the film continues on but Sukuna’s hands begin to wander. He unwinds his arms and reaches his hands up to cup your tits. You try your best to stay focused on the movie, but then his thumbs are brushing against your hard nipples through the thin pajama shirt you are wearing. You gasp and arch into his touch.

“Sukuna…. The movie..” you whine but make no move to stop him.

“Keep watching it sweet girl.” You can tell without looking at him that he’s smirking behind you. He loves to tease. His hands grope and twist your breasts. You squirm in his arms, the pleasure making your mind foggy, unable to keep your attention on the film in front of you.

“Sukuna, please-“ he cuts you off,

“Watch the movie.” There’s no playfulness in his words, a direct demand. You’re on the verge of panting, wanting more from him, wanting him to touch you elsewhere. Your eyes stay locked on the screen even as your body moves on its own, desperately searching for more pleasure. Sukuna takes pity on you and ever so slowly slides one of his hand down your stomach to your panty line. You grind your teeth together, resisting the urge to grab his hand and shove it in your underwear.

“You want me to touch you here, huh?” His tone is patronizing. You turn your head to look up at him, hoping your pleading eyes will convince him to give you more. He holds your gaze, fingers slipping under the seam, before he cups you with his palm.

“That what you want? Want me here?” You moan, head falling back on his shoulder.

“Yes! Yes, please.” Sukuna softly parts your pussy lips with his middle finger, tracing over your clit, down towards your hole, and back up to rub circles. It sends electricity through your body and you can’t help the sweet whimpers you let out. After repeating this motion a few times, he decides you’ve had enough and his finger sinks into you. Your hands wrap around his forearm, nails digging into his skin as your hips buck up.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. Such a good little pussy.” Sukuna watches you, licking his lips and fighting the urge to put you on your hands and knees so he can fuck you. He groans when your pussy clenches around his finger. His lips find your neck again and he sucks a mark into it, deciding to add another finger as he does. His palm presses onto your clit.

“You like when I fuck you with my fingers?” His nose traces the line of your jaw. You nod frantically at his question.

“What if I fuck you with my fingers and suck your clit at the same time?” The thought has your cunt pulsing around his fingers.

“Yes, please! Please, I want your mouth.”

“Okay baby, I’ll give it to you.” You move to get up, to change positions, when his arm pulls you back down. You look to him, confused. Sukuna gives you a deceivingly sweet smile.

“You’re forgetting I have mouths in other places sweetheart. We don’t have to move at all for me to taste your sweet juices on my tongue.” Your eyes widen and you can feel the moment the mouth on his palm opens up. The movement makes you jerk in his arms.

“Oh my god.” Your body arches again, feeling his tongue lick over your clit.

“No god here baby, just me… making you feel like this.” He’s soft spoken, focused on pleasuring you. The mouth on his palm sucks your clit in and you reach down to press it harder against you. Sukuna doesn’t stop you. His mouth waters at the way your soaking wet cunt squeezes his fingers.

“Please, please, I’m gonna- oh, Sukuna, I’m gonna cum!” You writhe around on his lap, his hard cock pressing into your spine. His fingers move faster inside of you. Sukuna can feel your body trembling, can hear the slick squelches your pussy makes. He grunts behind you before reaching a hand up to wrap around your throat. Your mouth falls open and you cry out, body tensing as you feel that beautiful pleasure overtake you. You convulse around him, cumming so hard spots dance around in your vision. Sukuna doesn’t slow down, drawing every ounce of white hot pleasure from your body. You collapse against him, completely drained, head hanging to the side. He lays his cheek against the top of your head, chuckling at you, before slowly removing his fingers from you. He sucks the wetness from them, making you shudder and whine.

“I think we should start the movie back from the beginning….”

[not4simp]

OOPSIES!

You got caught red handed smoking!

featuring - Sylus x reader, Caleb x reader

a/n - i can't do endings and english is not my first language so forgive me for any grammatical or structural mistake. Maybe I'll continue and make a version for Rafael, Zayne, and Xavier idk thoo.

Sylus

Sylus is an observant man. Every small detail, every precise moment, every specific word, does not go unnoticed. So it was quite a surprise that you have gone so long without him noticing your minor addiction. There were quite a few times where you almost thought you were done for. But hey, luck was truly on your side.

3 months ago You had invited Sylus over to your place to just relax. He had brought some food over and placed it over the kitchen counter where he came across 13 lighters splayed out. At first he thought you had taken an interest in collecting them, but upon taking a closer look it was from the same cheap brand you could find in a nearby mini market but in form of different colors. ‘sweetie what’s with all these lighters?’ he asked amused.

You paused for a moment, every time you used a lighter it somehow always ends up lost, frustrated you bought a whole bulk the other day. ‘oh I just love lighting up scented candles’ you waved it off. Sylus didn’t press further on and left it at that. That day Sylus went home but found not one single candle present in your house.

2 weeks ago Under the hot scorching sun you draped a shawl over your head trying to shield your boiling scalp from the immense heat. For the past days Sylus and you had just finished running some business errands and now had some free time to hop from one stall to another checking out what the locals had to offer. Within a few stalls Sylus had gone to purchase some refreshments leaving you some cash to look around and buy anything you wanted. You were looking through some fine jewelry when something else caught your eye.

A beautiful gold-plated ashtray adorning with intricate carvings. It was cool to the touch contrasting with the current weather and truly one of a kind. ‘An ashtray?’ Sylus appeared holding strawberry lemon soda in hand. ‘exquisite don’t you think?’ i said eyes still on the item. Sylus nodded an agreement, ‘let’s take a look at what other stores have to offer , oh and i already payed for it’ nudging his head towards the ashtray in my hand.

Present It was late at night yet the street lights illuminates the dark. Sylus and you had just drove through Linkon taking in the gorgeous city. It was cold and quiet everyone was fast asleep but you were parked in a 24 hour fast food restaurant enjoying an ice cream cone.

‘sweetie where’s the charger?’ he asked rummaging through the glove compartment. ‘oh yeah it’s in the armrest console’ you quickly replied. As Sylus reaches out to open it you had just recalled that it was where you had kept your Marlboro stash. Panic flowed through your chest ‘wait!’ you exclaimed, but it was too late and all you could do was sink into your seat.

Sylus examined the pack, opening it to find 4 sticks left 'Kitten this can’t be good for you, you just bought this 3 days ago' his voice carried out softly. I whipped my head to look at him 'how did you know when i bought this?' my brows furrowed questioning him. 'oh sweetie you can’t think I’m that oblivious' his lips curl into a smirk. 'if you knew all this time then why didn’t you tell me?' 'i thought I’d wait until you would tell me yourself besides, Mephisto is having a blast scouting for lighters to add to his collection' you gasped as a hand flew to your mouth feeling disbelief 'that was you?!' a finger pointed at him.

Caleb

Your head hung low looking aimlessly as cars passes by. A hand lays on the steel railing supporting your whole body while the other holds a cigarette between your index and middle finger.

You couldn’t comprehend why you continued this habit. Caleb is back, he’s alive, and you both have made up. So why couldn’t you put this habit behind you? Perhaps you were paranoid that he could be taken away from you any moment just like last time. Perhaps you’re worried that Caleb has changed and you couldn’t accept it, or perhaps-

You shut your eyes and took a long drag as the warmth overcomes you. The heavy bitter taste dances on your tongue as the nicotine settles in calming your nerves. You really needed to find another alternative way to soothe these thoughts. You were to caught up with your own mind when your ears perked up. It was as if someone has called your name.

Light footsteps clicked through your apartment’s living, You flipped your head towards the glass door behind you and to your suprise your favorite Fleet-space Colonel was currently peeking through your bedroom to look for you. Shit. At times like this you surely regretted giving him a spare key to your home. Quickly you dropped your cigarette onto the ground stumping on it before kicking it off your balcony.

The glass door slid and in walks Caleb with a big smile 'Hey Pipsqueak I’ve been calling out for you what’s got you so preoccupied out here?'. You shrugged and gave a nervous smile slowly inching back, afraid that the persistent tobacco scent would be noticed. 'Not happy to see me?' he chuckled grabbing your waist and pulling you into his embrace.

You noticed that he pulled away longer than normally but his hands were still placed firmly on your waist. 'name' his voice was sharp. It was the tone he carried when commanding the space-fleet. Oh surely you were fucked. 'hmm?' you cocked you head. 'Have you been-' he paused taking a scan of the small terrace. 'Have you been smoking?' brows furrow. Feeling caught red handed you didn’t bother answering him but rather threw your gaze towards the bustling streets.

A hand reaches your cheek guiding you to look at him But you’ve never, Why would you… Your gaze meets his and as the two of you locked eyes a silent understanding falls. His face softens up ‘You know you don’t need to carry all your burdens and worries alone anymore right?’ 'i knoww' you whined. 'how about you throw this away,' he said whilst reaching for my back pocket and waved the cigarette pack in front of me, 'and we’ll get dinner, my treat' he winked playfully. 'but it was expensive' i groaned frowning a bit. 'all the more reason to stop pipsqueak how about we also stop for dessert’ he squished your cheeks. ‘and snacks’ your voice muffled from the force against your cheeks. Caleb chuckled 'alright we have a deal' placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

[todayitwillrainblood]

★ kitten from a litter,

☆ masterlist!

⟲ synopsis;

sieun is [name]'s precious, and the latter would do anything to protect him. (this is very loose ended btw, i just wanted sieun to be protected by m!reader and have a make-out sesh(ish?) in the bathroom.)

★ "you(-ooh) and i-i, it's more that like (like)

what's after like?" ☆

— SIEUN HAS ALWAYS seemed fragile to [name]. someone he had to protect.

[name] has also believed that sieun was terribly incapable of holding out tasks, of any sort, really. picking a fight, cooking his meals, and even living by himself. naturally, prone to that feeling of protectiveness, [name] had started to push himself into sieun's life.

"eat more, veggies make you taller, you know!"

"c'mon! you can't just study all day, come outside for a little while."

"that's not healthy—"

"if you do that, you'll di—"

"hey! didn't i tell you to—"

"are you my mom?" sieun finally snapped. this was seriously getting out of hand now.

"that's not right!" [name] gasped, whispering right after, "we sleep toget—"

sieun shushed him with a smack, "idiot!"

he turned around, walking away with an angry huff, "i-i'm sorry!"

[name] chased after him, as one does. they made up that day, of course, i'll simply say that [name] is very good with his hands.

anyway.

today was awful, [name] barely got any sleep last night. And while he was snoozing off on his desk, he was harshly awoken by a nudge.

the uncomfortable silence present in the room told him now was not a good time to yell about it. a glance around him told him all he needed to know.

sieun was getting bullied.

oh, how could he let his love be tainted that way?

he got up and strode over to the guy whose name he didn't bother to learn.

"what are you doing?" he bumped shoulders with jeon yeong-bin while walking over to stand protectively in front of sieun.

[name] looked him up and down, and scoffed, "bullying? what are you, eleven?"

yeong-bin took a step back; pestering sieun was easy...as long as [name] wasn't there. or awake.

[name], put simply, was scary. once, he had broken the hand of a guy, back in middle school, because he had smudged bright paint all over sieun.

he had gotten a two-week suspension for that, but then broke the other hand because he came to school to find that no action had been taken against that kid.

his next month was spent at home and about 12 hours of community service.

if you ask him, he'll say it was worth it.

this was also before yeon sieun was dating him or even acknowledged him. the latter part obviously changed after that.

that was also when [name] had started to actively and directly pursue sieun. all the cheesy things, love notes, roses, even a dinner where he had to kidnap sieun because he refused to go the first five times. (no sieuns were harmed in the making of this.)

all in all, everyone and their momma was scared of [name].

yeong-bin did not want a broken hand, or hands, or any other bodily injury, so he retreated and rightfully so.

[name] sure is a menace, but you know what? in yeong-bin's eyes, sieun was too much of a pest to just let him go, and too easy, too. sieun also never would go and whine to [name], meaning he was safe as long as [name] wasn't there to see.

[name] spared one glance at sieun, then dragged his stoic self to a bathroom.

he locked the door, pulling sieun in front of one of the various sinks set up.

sieun stayed staring at [name] through the mirror, while his boyfriend washed the same hands that touched yeong-bin. admittedly, [name] was too late to wake up by the time filth had touched his precious.

[name]'s arms were around sieun, chest to back, leaning his chin on sieun's shoulder. when he was done, he placed a smooch on seiun's cheek, pulling back just slightly with a scowl.

"what?" sieun questioned him, finally turning to face [name].

"you smell like that jerk's cheap cologne." with that [name] pulled sieun into a rough kiss, biting harshly into his lips and grabbing his face.

"hmph...! slower..."

[name] kissed him feverishly, slipping in his tongue and practically eating him until lewd noises echoed in the quiet bathroom. [name] pushed sieun against a wall, his hands wandering and slipping under sieun's cotton shirt. daringly, he brushed his finger against sieun's sensitive nub, pulling out even sweeter noises.

"ah!...mmh..."

sieun coloured deeply, gazing at [name] with a hooded gaze, feeling vulnerable and melting.

they would have gone further, probably, if sieun allowed it, but the school bell ringing made both of them flinch back in shock, finally finding breath and realising the mess on themselves.

sieun, dishelved and nearly shirtless, and the various red smudges across and around [name]'s lips because of the blood on sieun's lips.

[name] looked away, flushed and embarrassed, "i'll...i'll fix you up," he mumbled, reaching over to begin buttoning up sieun's shirt.

"this is your fault."

[name] willingly nodded his head, "...yes."

sieun continued to stare at him, up, down, and around. he slumped against the wall, leaving himself to [name], like he often has grown to do. trusting him completely and utterly.

there was no reason to blame [name] completely, after all, it takes two to tango, but he enjoyed the look on his face. shy, red, and obviously aroused.

"class will st—"'

"come to my house," he snuck a glance up, "later."

"...okay." red ears and a beating heart.

thump.

a sigh and another kiss.

yours only.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any good Superman au Sterek fics?

For sure.

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's a ...Tie? by 42hrb

(1/1 I 1,254 I General)

Stiles has thought that Derek might be Superman for months, now he has something close to proof.

Twice The Nice by notyourtipicalauthor

(1/1 I 2,269 I Explicit)

boyfriend and his twin brother that he had secretly lusted after. The night was filled with carnal pleasures, their bodies intertwined as they explored the depths of their desires.

Echoes of Fate by people_change_pt2

(3/? I 6,071 I Explicit)

When Jon and Jordan arrive in Beacon Hills to live with their grandfather, they seem like ordinary teens adjusting to a new town. Polite and helpful, they seem harmless to the Hale pack—except to Eli, who feels an inexplicable pull toward Jordan. It’s a connection Eli can’t fully understand, but his father, Derek, can.

Recognizing the bond between Eli and Jordan as the rare mate connection, Derek is determined not to let his son repeat his mistakes. Haunted by the regret of never telling Stiles they were mates, Derek sets aside his wariness, welcoming the brothers into the pack to give Eli and Jordan the chance he and Stiles never had.

But as hunters arrive in town, tensions rise, and Eli struggles to protect the pack while navigating his bond with Jordan. As secrets about the brothers’ arrival unravel, the truth threatens to change everything.

This is a story of second chances, where Derek fights to give his son what he lost: the freedom to choose love and the chance to claim it before it’s too late.

What's A Secret Identity? by Chrystie, imabignerd, kate882

(1/1 I 6,967 I Teen)

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

Angle of View by petals42_tumblr (rosepetals42)

(1/1 I 8,017 I Teen)

Derek Hale is Superman. Stiles is Lois Lane's cameraman. They get closer than they are supposed to.

it's gonna take a superman by kellifer_fic

(1/1 I 14,184 I Teen)

Derek figured the Children of Villains support group would at least be full of outcasts like him. How wrong could he be?

Bending Steel by GrimReaperlover11

(16/16 I 25,369 I Teen)

Derek loved being Superman, and though he knew that being the man of steel came with a large amount of responsibility...there is this one person who he can not avoid..this one thief that always causes him to go weak in the knees and makes his mind go fuzzy. so what happens when he finds himself in a compromising position with this thief?

What happens when the man of steel...bends?

Batman Makes It Look Easy by Ilovesocks_24

(13/13 I 50,044 I Teen)

All of the big time superheroes like Superman and Captain America make everything look so easy. They manage to have regular jobs, save their cities and have time to maintain stable relationships. Derek wishes his life was that simple. He saves his city and works a regular job but he's pretty sure that Iron Man never hit on Batman, so why does Red Spark keep hitting on him?

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are both secret superheroes, but are too oblivious to realize that they're in love. Meanwhile there's a power draining supervillain on the loose.

Werewolves can't Fly by lhr111

(21/? I 56,874 I Explicit)

Derek has always been different, even for a werewolf. He was born with blue beta eyes, his sensory perception is better than an alpha, he is faster and stronger than any wolf they have ever met, and his instincts have never been the same as the rest of his pack. His mother, his alpha, has always loved him without judgement, but some of his pack are suspicious.

Making a choice for himself for once, Derek moves to Metropolis to take a job at The Daily Planet. He is quickly overwhelmed and captivated by fellow reporter Stiles Stilinski. Stiles has a secret, not-so-small obsession with Superman who went missing decades ago, and a burgeoning interest in the new grumpy superhero who recently started saving people around the city. Together the two will uncover the mystery of the Man of Steel, uncover crimes committed by an evil Argent-led corporation, and discover important truths about themselves in the process.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Disagree (able) - (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: You attempt to kill Cregan. It doesn’t quite go according to plan.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers. Cursing. Attempted murder attempt (by you, obvs) Smut.

A/N: A short little drabble (Fic, really, but a drabble to me) that doesn’t even pretend to be serious. I have had such a hard time writing lately, this took me ages.

IT’S LATE. YOU are not supposed to be outside your chambers, but you slip out regardless. The guards barely spare you a glance. These days are amongst the bloodiest and most chaotic ones you have lived, and for someone who survived the Dance of the Dragons, as the commoners are calling it, it is saying something.

A woman, dressed in her best finery, is nothing to worry about. Not any longer. The sides have blurred, and you have heard Cregan Stark has accused Corlys Velaryon himself of poisoning King Aegon, the cunt. Loyalties are so blurred, you are unsure if the man has turned against the Blacks or the Greens. You do not care.

The only thing you care about is the dagger you grasp, hidden inside your sleeves. You have ensured to look prettier than ever, so the guards will believe your ruse.

“Who comes there?” One of them asks, when you approach the chambers where Cregan Stark is residing. You feel the cold bite of the steel you carry under your palm, and the urge to just lash out against the guard, too. He is a Stark’s man through and through, just as the rest of these uncouth northerns. You can tell by the way they speak, not enunciating their letters proper.

“Hush.” You tell him instead, pulling the hood of your cloak back. “Do you want everyone in the Keep to know of this? I come to meet with your lord.”

His eyes widen. Of course they do. You know exactly what this looks like, this secret rendezvous in the middle of the night, inside his chambers. In fact, you are counting on the gossip mill of the castle doing the work for you and providing you with an alibi. You will leave after the deed is done, and they will find him dead in the morning. No one will make the connection between his lover and his executioner.

“Why don’t you announce me, too, while you are at it?” You try your best to sound disgruntled, like any honorable lady would when her secret paramours are about to be exposed. “Ruin us both.”

“Milady, I…” He starts, expression fearful. Surely worrying about what you would tell Cregan.

“Silence. Speak not a word of this to anyone.” You tell him, and open the door as if you had all the right to do it. The man, too stunned to speak, does not attempt to stop you.

You slip inside, and close the door. Under the cover of darkness, you can barely make out his silhouette, laying on the bed, breathing calm and steady. He seems to be unarmed. Good. It will only make your task easier.

You begin undressing. You take off your shoes first, then your hose. Last, you cloak and dress, leaving you with only a simple shift and the dagger you still grip. It’s a terrible thing, sharp as a needle, and twice as prickly. You shudder.

Ugh, if this damn man had just stayed quiet! But no! He had to start an investigation and a trial about the poisoning, and now you were forced to do this dishonorable thing to protect your family.

Careful not to make too much noise, you walk towards the bed. When you reach it, you spend a moment staring at him. He is a big man. You only have one chance to do this. You cannot fail.

Bracing yourself, you get up on the bed and straddle him. You lift the dagger, ready to slit his neck, and lift your other hand to cover his mouth. He is not supposed to be able to scream, if you do it right, but he will bleed like a pig. Or so your brothers said, when you asked them, way too casually, what happened when you slit a man’s throat.

As you brace yourself for the inevitable mess about to stain you, and get yourself ready to cut him, a hand wraps around your bare thigh, hard.

“What in the Seven Hells?” His voice is rough with sleep, pitched low. His hand loosens, as if surprised, before tightening again. “You are a woman.” Cregan whispers, amazement in his tone. His hand goes between your thighs, as if to check…

“Unhand me.” You squeal, in a very undignified tone. It is the wrong move. It stops him from trying to check between your thighs if you are truly a woman, but his hands go to grasp at your hips instead, in an iron grip.

“Lady Tully?” He asks you, sounding even more surprised. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You tell him, and suddenly remembering that you are armed and dangerous, you press the dagger to his throat. “Quiet.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Cregan asks, and you can hear the amusement in his tone. You splutter, indignant, but he only huffs out a laugh. “What for? We are supposed to be on the same side.”

“As if you care! You are trying to murder Lord Corlys. Will Oscar and Kermit be next? Traitor.” You snap, pressing the dagger hard enough to draw blood against his neck. “I should kill you where you stand, before you get your chance to do more damage.”

“I am not.. I… Damn Tullys.” He mutters to himself, before he pushes upwards and sideways, and you are thrown into the mattress. He slams your hand two times against the sheets, and your dagger is taken from you, as if you were nothing but a pesky child. You let out a scream of rage, and struggle against his hold, but he clamps a hand over your mouth, muffling you. “Stop it, damn it, you will only hurt yourself, you daft woman.”

At being called daft, a sudden wave of rage overcomes you. The sting of failure is too much for you to bear, and you bite down as hard as you can. You clamp his fingers between your teeth, and remembering a hound you had as a child, you jerk your head savagely, set on doing as much damage as you can.

Now he is the one who screams, cradling his injured hand. You bare your teeth, tasting iron, uncaring that your mouth is probably blood stained. As you go to reach for the dagger, Cregan stops you, grabbing both of your wrists.

“You little beast!” He tells you, and even in the darkness, you can tell his face is contorted into a mask of fury. You wrap a leg around his hip, pull him in, and surprising even yourself, kiss him.

It is violent. Your teeth clash, the taste of anger sharp and tangy on your tongue. But most surprisingly, Cregan kisses back. He kisses like his house’s sigil, all sharp teeth and starved maw. He bites at you, not giving an inch, not forgiving you anything.

His hands move off from your wrists, and go to the straps on your shoulders. He tears the shift off you as if it were nothing, and you feel yourself grow wet at the thought of having to walk back to your chambers without it underneath your dress.

Cregan is quiet as he feasts on your neck and shoulders, making bruises bloom on your skin. In the darkness, every feeling is heightened, and the kisses alone are enough to make you feel delirious. The pain from the bites throbs on your neck, making you reckless, angrier, hungrier.

Your hands go to clutch his shoulders, before you start to tug off his sleep shirt. The two of you struggle for a while, Cregan unwilling to separate himself from your neck, and you desperately trying to disrobe him, until you sneak his hands below his sleep shirt and scratch his sides.

He lets out a groan when you do, and it makes you smile. You tug the damn garment off him, and dedicate yourself to the task of mapping out his chest in the dark. Fascinated by what you can feel, you run your fingers through his chest hair, and then scratch his abs, feeling them jump under your touch.

Your fun is cut short, though when Cregan pins you down with his weight.

“What are you..?” You complain, annoyed that you cannot even see his face to gauge his intentions.

“Gods, woman.” He tells you, as he cups your breasts in his hands. “Can’t you just shut up for a second and enjoy it?”

“Well if you… Ah!” You lose your train of thought when you feel him enveloping your nipple inside his mouth. The warm, wet suction of it makes your eyes fall closed. When he brushes your nipple with his teeth, sending a bolt of what feels like live lighting through your core, you punishingly tug his hair.

Cregan grunts, and lets your nipple out of his mouth with a wet pop. Instead, he gnaws on your ribs, kissing a path down your belly and towards your center. You bite your lower lip to stifle the sounds he is ripping from you, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“You are soaked.” He informs you, with what sounds a far too smug tone for someone who was very close to death tonight. In the dark, you reach for his head and tug, placing him where you need him the most. You can feel the vibrations of his laughter against your folds.

Cregan seems not to be a stranger to this because his tongue moves with deadly precision. He seeks your weak spots, and once he finds them, he attacks them with renewed fervor. You attempt to keep as quiet and still as possible, but soon, your hips begin to buck and your legs to tighten around his ears.

So of course, being the cold bastard he is, that is when he stops. This time, you do let out a sound, a squeak of protest that gets cut short when he kisses you. It is much slower and sweeter than the first time, and it makes your heart flutter uncomfortably.

You sit up and reach for him, trying to line the two of you up. Cregan grabs your wrists, stopping you.

“You drew first blood, my lady.” He tells you, as he lines the two of you. “It is only fair that I draw second.” And without any other prelude, or announcement, he thrusts his hips forward and spears you.

You make a face, thankful for the fact that he cannot see it in the darkness. You do not make any sound, but you take a fierce bite to his neck. Cregan groans, making you laugh.

High on your triumph, you attempt to dislodge him, pushing up and trying to get on top. Cregan doesn’t resist, letting you shift your positions until you are on top of him.

“You are very bold for a maiden.” He tells you, his hand grasping in the dark, and finding your hair. The tug makes your back arch.

“I am no longer one, am I?” You ask, as you begin to grind your hips against his.

“Aye, you gave that gift to me.”

“I gave nothing.” You snarl, still grinding. “I took.”

“Then take it. “ He tells you, hand slipping to clasp over your nape. He begins thrusting his hips upwards, preventing you from grinding into him any further. You jerk, furious that he dares dictate the rhythm when it is your turn to be on top, but it is of no use against his strength. The thought that you are completely helpless, despite being in the dominant position, is what sets you even more alight.

With a choked curse and slamming your palm against his chest, you hit your peak, hips bucking wildly. Almost as if you had pushed him over the edge, Cregan lets out a low, throaty groan, shuddering under you.

You remain there, atop him, and suddenly set free from Cregan’s grip. You cannot see his expression, but you are sure he looks as wrecked as you feel, still breathing hard.

Slowly, you lift one leg and dismount. Your thighs ache from the effort, and you can feel his seed running down your thighs. That is going to be a problem, you think, as you sit on the edge of the bed and reach for your ruined shift.

Yet, as you go to get up, a hand, firm but not unkind, lands on your shoulder.

“Come here,” Cregan orders you, and you flinch slightly. Your peak has brought you an unfortunate feeling of clarity. You failed. Not only did you not kill him, alerting him to the plot on his life, but you also ruined yourself. Quite thoroughly, may I add. “Lay with me.”

You pause.

“I just did.” You tell him, in a tone full of loathing. “Rather underwhelming.”

Instead of taking offense, Cregan just barks out a laugh. He pulls you down, next to him, as you splutter in offense.

“I will not turn against your brothers. Nor will I execute your beloved Corlys.” He tells you, as you lay there. His hand brushes your back, soothingly. “On one condition.”

“What?” You snarl.

“You come North with me. As my wife.”

[blueishspace]

Lucky Life session 3

Blueishspace (He/Him) + @a-sociopath-do-your-research aka Oli (Xe/Void/It): 💛💛

@bendy8me aka Bendy (She/Her) + @juno0n aka Juno (She/Her): 💚💚💚

@raeistrying aka Rae (She/Her) + @silverorchideon aka Orchid (He/They): 💚💚💚

@communistcatboi aka Catboi (He/They) + @theblackglitch aka Glitch (She/Her): 💚💚💚

@kazanfamily aka Kazan (He/They) + @max05nb aka Max (They/Them): 💚💚💚

@twisttea aka Twisttea (She/Her) + @cowgirlginger aka Ginger (She/Her): 💛💛

@italianbiscuit aka Manu (She/Her) + @lizzlylou aka Liz (They/Them): 💚💚💚

@thatoneloudintrovert aka Floracica (She/Her) + @not-ready-for-gaster aka Bee (She/They): 💛💛

@whats-she-gonna-post-next aka Starfall (She/They) + @frostywisp aka Fros (They/Them): 💚💚💚

@the-local-pineapple aka Tessa (She/Her) + @spectresharmony aka Ari (She/Her): 💚💚💚

@astoriagalaxy aka Astoria (All) + @3-pots-of-soup aka Soup (Any): 💚💚💚

Session 3 time!

This is the wheel for this session:

Twisttea, Ginger, Glitch and Catboi meet up. Glitch and Ginger keep bonding over hating Kazan for the whole wolf stunt. Twisttea and Catboi just... akwardly third and fourth wheel the two for a while before discussing a possible alliance.

Tessa and Ari visit the Fros/Starfall/Bendy/Juno group...it doesn't go well, they attempt to scam them, they get into a discussion, they are forced to leave.

Kazan pranks their allies Manu and Liz by re-arranging all the items in their shared base. The other two end up not noticing tho as their chests were never organized to begin with.

Orchid and Rae attempt to find some resources by mining but find themselves falling in the deep dark and barely manage to survive.

Oli accidentally looks an enderman in the eyes, void don't get to safety in time and get mauled to death. Blue (Me) dies to the soulbound immediately after. The game from now on changes. ❤️ (Murder and Trap chance increases)

Soup and Astoria scam Floracica with an offer of liberating her from her soulbound, they don't actually have plans to get rid of Bee, they are lying.

Max encounters Bee, they are quick to offer her the powdered snow. Bee refuses.

Glitch is sparated from the others as night comes and is shot by a skeleton too many, dying and bringing Catboi down with her. 💛💛

Manu, knowing Liz is going to be the first target for the red lives considering previous...horse shenanigans... And begins trapping their base.

Kazan visits Blue and Oli's base in an attempt to steal from them, the two catch him in the act and a good aimed shot from Oli takes their first life. Max respawns immediately after. 💛💛

Ari and Tessa meet up with Twisttea and Ginger to discuss an alliance but it doesn't go anywhere as the two are afraid of the others turning red in the near future.

Astoria stumbles onto Bee, they take pity on her and offer them an alliance. Bee is unsure but agrees.

Soup meanwhile is absolutely killing it in the Nether, like genuinely getting all kinds of things...including 2 wither skeleton heads.

Floracica manages to do something no one else could, she gets to the deep dark and steals the enchanting table.

Juno and Starfall separate from their respective soulbounds as a safety precaution, telling them to eat food if their health lowers, as they venture into the Nether once again. They meet Soup which tries and fails to hide the wither heads.

Fros and Bendy, meanwhile, dig tunnels under the map and accidentally find the already looted mineshaft. They set up a secret emergency base inside.

Max attempts to get in the deep dark to find the enchanting table only to discover it has already been taken. He does find a skeleton spawner however.

Orchid and Rae stay behind to fortify their base.

Middle of session event (Ooh lore, big wow #2):

Kazan has been blessed by the all seeing eye with regeneration for the rest of the session.

Fros goes to Liz and Manu's base but accidentally springs the trap they placed earlier this session and gets blown up taking Starfall down with them. 💛💛

Manu panics and when cornered pretends she didn't place the trap and that instead it was Bee who went insane by not having a soulbound.

Tessa, while mining, finds Fros and Bendy's secret emergency base and, without knowing who it belongs to, robs them blind.

Soup encounters Glitch as she's stealing from Kazan's base, they try to stop her but fails and inadvertently ends up killing one of Kazan's wolves. Glitch then kills the other before running off.

When Kazan reads the death messages he's sneakily following Catboi, when they do read them they get angry and attack Catboi before setting fire to Glitch and Catboi's base.

Astoria, while deep in the mines, finds a creeper spawner which immediately turns into a very rough gunpowder farm.

Starfall sees Kazan as they are running from the burning remains of the base they just burnt. They offer him protection with ulterior motives.

Bee ventures into the nether and manages to get a wither skeleton head, Floracica sees them and accuses Bee of being insane and wanting to summon a wither.

Bendy attempts a late monopoly on sugarcane by stealing It from Soup and Astoria, unaware that they have more on them and that Oli and Blue have some too.

Astoria meanwhile is done with mining and is instead fishing.

Juno finds and kills Catboi's zombie villager before he gets a chance to cure him.

Ginger and Twisttea meet up with Catboi who seeks to strenghtem the alliance against Kazan, Twisttea is now the only member without some reason to hate Kazan.

Oli manages to corner Liz, Oli and Liz have a long fight and when Oli is amost dead Blue joins in as well killing Liz and with the soulbound Manu.💛💛

Orchid explores the Nether with very little success.

Rae and Max go in the Nether soon after Orchid and manage to find a curse of binding book which they use to prank Orchid by binding leather leggings to him.

[thatrandyalexfroma03]

Another Zach WIP - Bucktommy after 8x17

Look, I can get Eddie, I can but that fight was, not good.

And as someone who's dealt with it, not easy.

And look I don't think the show intended for that, but it leaves a lot to off screen. And the gaslighting instead of saying sorry. Anyway, here's what I've been working on. With all its errors and rough edges

After that, Buck needed to escape, plain and simple. 

He had apologised to Eddie, tried to not over react, take it personally, but he needed.

He needed Tommy. 

So here he was, at almost eleven pm knocking on the door of Tommy’s house like some god damn asshole and he really hoped that Tommy would be awake. 

Was he self centered? Was he doing exactly what he was accused of? 

After all, Tommy was home, peacefully relaxing and Buck was going to ruin it.

The door opened and Zach was standing there in just his boxers, and a very noticeable tent.

“Zach?”

“Suuuppppp Broooo, how’s it hanging.” and Zach goes to dap him up which is uncomfortable because Zach doesn’t seem to care that his half hard member is only barely contained by the the flimsy boxers or that it’s pressing against Buck’s leg. 

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, mainly why Zach was here so late and undressed as well. Don’t get Buck wrong; rationally, he knew nothing would happen, right? But after tonight, how could he be sure? 

What if his best friend hated him and his boyfriend was cheating on him?

“Umm, dog I was like trying to catch some ‘Z’s’ but then you were all up knocking on the door, so, you know… you know?”

That’s not an actual answer, but before Buck can say anything or question anything, or do anything Zach twists backwards and yells out “T-Bone, you’re booty call is here.” and then he turns back to Buck with easy grin and light shrug, “Come in, come in, the door step is no place for Evan Buckley to be left.”

The words are accidentally triggering, and Buck kinda mumbles, “I always make it all about me.” slipping out before he has a chance to stop it, and hopefully Zach is too drunk, tired or zoned out to catch them. 

But of course, he hears it, because he flings himself around (and everything bounces, from his pecs to well, his cock in his boxers) and sort of just stares at Buck like he’s an idiot. “Uh, what the fuck dude, why wouldn’t you make it all about you? No one else is, well apart from Tommy of course, because he’s like…” Zach doesn’t finish the sentence, instead clasping his hands together and pumping them together in a gesture Buck would assume is a fucking one but it doesn’t fit the tone Zach was going for.

Then again, maybe it does. It’s Zach.

“Evan? Is everything okay?” 

There is Tommy, who is wearing a tee shirt and track pants and ignoring everything else going on tonight, Buck wishes that it was the other way around because he currently sees way too much of Zach and not enough of Tommy. 

But also, he’s not in the mood.

Tommy looks tired, either from just getting up (which makes Buck feel guilty) or from putting up with Zach, because Tommy then growls “Zach, for the love of, can you get dressed?”

Zach rolls his shoulders, “We’re all dudes here.” but he looses the war and throws on a white T-shirt that says in orange letters ‘I’m sorry your sad, you can touch my dick if you like.’ and Buck can’t. He just can’t. 

“If you two want to watch ‘Disney+ and thrust, ‘I can put my headphones in.” Zach offers, like it's a favour. “It’s like ‘Netflix and chill,’ but Disney has this show called ‘Hot Shots,’ which is kind of like our job.”

On the verge of a breakdown, Buck exhales deeply, willing calm thoughts, “I didn’t come for that.” and what is he, a middle age prude? But saying he didn’t come for sex just feels weird. 

“Then why are you knocking on Tommy’s door at 11 pm if you didn’t desperately desire dick?” 

Tommy clears his throat, “Zach, shut up.”

“I’m just saying.”

“No one asked.”

“Buck’s here at 11 pm, on a work night and you expect me to believe.”

Buck claps his hands together, not aggressively but enough to pause the stupid conversation, “Right, how about, you explain please.” Looking at Tommy, “Why Zach is here? In his boxers,”

Tommy shakes his head, but also chuckles and looks put upon, “Zach got kicked out of his apartment for being a dick.”

“Hey!” Zach protests loudly, very much offended, “Clearly not my fault.”

Tommy turned back to Buck, “What can I do for you Evan?” 

Buck wants to deflect back onto Zach, because suddenly he feels like maybe he is making everything about him, he’s interrupted Tommy’s night, Eddie is grieving the loss of Bobby, maybe he’s made a mistake seeking out comfort. 

Maybe he does make everything about him.

“Evan?” Tommy prompts again.

“Uh, Eddie is staying with me.” Buck says, and Tommy looks, well like he’s trying to keep his jealously in check, “And, uh, we had a….” He doesn’t want to call it a fight, “A difference of uh, opinion, about a few things and I just need some space.”

“Chicks.” Zach says in agreement, “They’ll fuck with your head.”

It earns a look from Buck and Tommy, “Eddie is a dude.” Tommy answers, “And maybe Chicks wouldn’t fuck with your head if you could act like an adult.”

“Sad, that’s sad bro.” Zach replies, “So this dude is crashing at yours, and you have to leave? Why didn’t you kick his sad ass out?” 

“He’s got no where to go, and it’s not like that, he’s just upset because Bobby died…”

Zach frowns, looking over to Tommy, “Like, am I wrong or isn’t everyone at the 118 upset Bobby died?”

Tommy makes a ‘cut it out’ gesture to Zach, before walking up to Buck and wrapping him up in a hug and it’s stupid how good it feels, how safe he feels in Tommy’s arms. 

“I’ve just been trying so hard to be there for everyone.” Buck says into Tommy’s neck, “And to watch out for them, like I promised Bobby and he called me selfish and too fragile to handle the news he’s got a job in El Paso.”

Tommy rubs his back, in a soothing pattern, “You’re not selfish Buck, you’re like the most selfless person I know. A lil reckless sometimes, a lil impulsive but you have a heart of gold.”

So Buck lets Tommy lead him into the kitchen, where Tommy puts on some coffee and Buck tries to tell both sides of the story. He doesn’t want to paint Eddie as a villain, after everything Eddie has suffered and been through, the guilt of not being there, he’s just getting to the bit where Eddie grabbed his shoulder and flung his finger in Buck’s face when bloody Zach arrives in the kitchen.

“Yo, yo, yo, I have the solution”, and in his hands is a plastic bag that smells good, Zach grinning widely “Kebabs baby! These are shit.”

Tommy sighs, before looking at Buck with a serious look, grabbing his hand “Do not eat the kebabs.” How the Kebab shop is still open is beyond Tommy; the visible health code violations make him worry about what he can’t see. 

But, despite the warning Zach shoves one in front of Buck and Buck takes a messy bite before looking up at Tommy, mouth ful of Kebab and soft blue eyes “These are pretty good?”

“Told ya, better than sex.” Zach says around a mouthful of Kebab, and Tommy wants to make a dig, oh how he wants to make a dig but instead his concern is about Buck.

“Did you say Eddie grabbed you?”

Buck mumbles something, taking another bite of the Kebab as Zach naturally gets involved.

“Wait, so this dude is your bestie, crashing at your house and he laid hands on you. Oh no brother, Tommy go defend your man.”

Buck puts the kebab down, frustrated and tired, and mentally exhausted. “Look, I provoked him, he’s going through a lot…”

“So are you.” Tommy points out, before looking over at Zach, “Can you give us space.”

“I’m out boys, but honestly, if you don’t deck this Eddie dude, I’m mad disappointed in ya, T-Bone.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the eye roll if he tried, “Let’s be clear, I’m not doing anything Evan doesn’t want me to do, because Evan is an adult and he is allowed to vent, and you can fuck off, please and thank you.”

[greenxgloss]

Sickly Sweet - Jeon Jungkook (2)

Summary: While setting up a Valentine’s display in your beloved bookshop, Jungkook stopped by to gift you a pair of handmade earrings as thanks for a recommendation—leaving you flustered, blushing, and undeniably smitten. Even Madilyn, your young regular, noticed the spark and teased you about your “pretty boy” visitor, who just might like you more than you think.

Word Count: 1.4k

unedited

February 9th

About four years ago, you were sat in the middle of what you call your book room—a room—as labeled—stacked to the ceiling with nothing but books—hard covers, paperbacks, vintage, hot off the press, dystopian, horror, and romance.

It was your personal collection that you'd accumulated since you could read, and you had the idea to open a store that customers could also borrow from. How hard could it be?

After about a year of securing stable funding, looking for the perfect location, obtaining a business licence, registering with the government and getting insurance on the whole place, you were able to open Books. Yeah that's what you called it; Books. You thought it was sweet and whimsical.

Years of making connections all over the world with other collectors and sellers to broaden your collection, turned supply, and here you are.

You loved being in the shop; it's truly your life and has been for these four long years. You've come to say that you're married to your books, which earns a collective wince or cringe from your friends, who, though, were also just as reserved as you, still had the occasional night out. They have diverse social lives aside from reading a few good books a month, and you respected that, though you were content with being The Reading Connoisseur™.

Today, you were setting up the Valentine's display, accompanied by a romantic novel spread, your favourite genre.

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Paper Towns, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, among others placed on the display shelf surrounded by paper hearts and other sweet handmade decorations. While taking a step back to admire your work, you heard the bell on the front door chime.

"That's really pretty," the little girl from the other day said, her small voice floating up from behind you.

You turned, grinning as you placed your hands on your hips. "You think so? Does it captivate you?" you teased, wearing your pride openly.

"For sure," she nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with admiration. She pointed toward the rest of the store, her finger sweeping across the shelves and warm, earthy tones. "It stands out against all the brown."

Her observation made you chuckle softly, your heart swelling at her genuine excitement. She beamed at you, her approval feeling like the sweetest kind of validation.

"So did that book help at all with your worries?" you asked, turning to her. She nodded. "Some for sure. I'm too scared to assume high school would be so breezy." She chuckled.

"you looking for something new today?" you asked as you walked behind the counter. she hummed and glanced around. "I think maybe I'll browse. i have a greek mythology assignment for english class." she sighed, propping herself up against the counter.

"Oh! we have percy jackson in the fantasy section. id say its pretty helpful. a lot easier than a random article online or those lore videos on youtube. i read them when I was your age and got through the first book in two days." you watched her eyes light up and her posture totally shift.

"no way you have percy jackson? theres a girl in my class who brags about having the full collection in pristine condition but she wont let anyone borrow them." she smiled and rolled her eyes recounting the events of class. You giggled. "well you can totally borrow them from me, madilyn." you'd learned her name yesterday when she dropped by after school just to say hi and give you one of her moms freshly made oatmeal cookies. You secretly admitted to her they were your favourites even though anyone else would call you lame.

"okay! ill borrow the first one today." and with that she scurried off to the fantasy section.

The bell chimed, snapping your attention to the door, and there he was—standing in the warm light like some perfectly-timed scene from a romance novel. All tousled hair and soft confidence, Jungkook stepped inside with that familiar boyish grin, his hands once again tucked casually into the pockets of his leather jacket. You could feel your stomach flutter in that annoyingly pleasant way it always did when he showed up unannounced.

“Hey,” he said, his voice like warm honey.

“Hey,” you echoed, trying to keep your smile steady. “How’d your mom like Riders of the Purple Sage?”

“She loved it, actually,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little more. “But... I’m here for you.”

You blinked. Froze. Your breath caught halfway in your throat.

“I thought I’d get you something, as a thank-you,” he continued casually, placing a small box on the counter between you. “Since you nailed the recommendation and made me look like the perfect son.”

“Whoa, you totally didn’t have to.” Your voice wavered, flustered despite your best efforts to stay grounded. “It’s my job to recommend books. It was a total shot in the dark.”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but his eyes watched you carefully, like he was looking for a reaction. You hated that he flustered you so easily. Or maybe you loved it, just a little.

You reached for the box with hesitant fingers, a tiny part of you bracing for the butterflies to riot again. Inside were the most adorable earrings—miniature wooden Russian dolls, hand-painted in soft pinks and reds, delicate and quirky.

Your heart melted instantly.

���No way,” you breathed out a small, delighted gasp. “These are so cool!”

He chuckled, and your eyes flicked to him in time to catch the way his smile softened, like your happiness was exactly what he’d hoped for.

“I couldn’t find any like the ones you wore last week,” he said, “those jam jar ones? But I figured these were still your style.”

You wore wacky jewelry all the time. Little statement pieces that sparked conversation—like the clumsy university student had said when he’d pointed out your strawberry jam earrings a few days ago. It was your way of keeping the world whimsical.

You were already pulling your current earrings off and slipping the new ones on. “They’re awesome, thank you so much! How do they look?”

“Pretty,” he said, simple and certain—his voice dipped in syrup.

A blush bloomed hot across your cheeks like wildfire. You bowed your head, smiling at the floor, trying to calm the sudden thudding in your chest.

“Seriously, no more gifts,” you said quietly, heart skipping.

He rolled his eyes playfully and backed away like he always did—reluctantly. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

And then he was gone, the bell chiming behind him, leaving your bookshop quiet but your heart anything but.

he brough you a gift. earrings. and it was thoughtful not just him showing off money. oh you swear your heart swelled two sizes.

“Who was that?” Madilyn’s voice piped up from behind a shelf, her head peeking out as she struggled to carry a wobbling stack of Percy Jackson books in her arms like a tiny librarian-in-training.

“Oh, just the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” you sighed dreamily, resting your chin in your hand as your gaze lingered on the door he’d just walked out of. The bell had long stopped chiming, but it was still echoing in your mind.

“I can agree with that, is he your boyfriend?” she nodded solemnly, stepping carefully toward the counter and dumping the books in a dramatic thud that pulled you back into reality.

You straightened, cheeks still tingling with the blush he’d left behind. “No,” you chuckled, shaking your head as you tucked your hair behind your ear, “he’s not my boyfriend.”

“But he got you earrings?” she said, raising one very judgmental tween eyebrow.

You turned your head to show her, lifting your hair to reveal the tiny painted wooden dolls dangling from your earlobes.

“Oh, he definitely likes you,” she declared with the certainty of someone who had seen one too many high school dramas.

You let out a laugh, scoffing at the ridiculous idea. “Please. Did you see him? He’s a total stud. Leather jacket, perfect jawline, unfair hair... He’d never go for someone like me.”

Madilyn tilted her head, giving you the kind of look only a 13-year-old could get away with—equal parts sass and wisdom. “Never say never.”

Your heart fluttered a little, but you refused to give in. “You can’t check out more than three books at once, Madilyn,”

➽ Kpop Masterlist ➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ G-Dragon Masterlist ➽ Buy Me a Coffee

Tags: @koocreampie

A/n: gonna have the next part out tmr just to treat you guys since I've been gone so long lmao

[waughymommy]

Chapter 9: New Sensation

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed overhead as Emily steered our cart toward the produce section. The scent of citrus and ripe bananas momentarily distracted me from the sterile smell of the doctor's office still lingering in my mind. I trailed behind Emily, lost in thought, grappling with the morning’s revelations. Within a week things had gone from a semi-drunken impulsive act to being a passive bystander as my wife discussed diapering options with my doctor.

I followed her through the aisles as she grabbed the basics. Bread. Some steaks. Salad materials. She talked to herself under her breath, calling out brands and prices, but it flowed in one ear and out the other as I followed her with the cart. Why had I done this? Why had I wet the bed not once, not twice, but three times? I mean, who does that? Who does that on purpose? And then talk to the doctor, as if I had no idea why my bed suddenly had a yellow spot? And now it was on my permanent record, the doctor having notes that my wife was talking to him about diapers. Why would I allow myself to be in that position? I didn't want Emily to think less of me. I really didn't want Emily to leave me, even if she did seem surprisingly supportive about all this. What could I do to fix this and make her realize it was all just a mistake? A one time- no, three time- accident that surely wouldn't happen again? Why had I thought 'accidents' were a good idea at the time? And did it really only take three bedwetting episodes before she was openly talking to the doctor about diapers for me?

"Greg?" Emily's voice cut through my thoughts like a lifeline. Her eyes held a mix of concern and determination as she gestured toward a towering shelf of adult diapers. "I think we should get some for you."

I was standing in front of a display. A display of diapers. A display of adult diapers. A display of adult diapers with pictures of smiling people on them. The harsh lighting on the bright packages contrasted with the faint smell of baby powder as I looked around, trying to figure out how I had teleported here without realizing where I was.

Emily paused, seeing that I needed a moment to re-enter reality from the far away place I had been, her gaze fixed on a towering display of diapers. Her hand gently brushed my back, a silent reassurance. "I think we should get some diapers for you."

Her words were gentle yet firm, leaving no room for argument. I glanced around, half-expecting her suggestion to echo through the store like an announcement over the PA system. But it was just us, standing in front of the wall of brightly colored packages.

I felt my throat tighten, the words catching in my throat. "But..." I stammered. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to be doing this, it was that I didn't want to be doing it here, now. "But..." I sputtered again.

"Look, honey. " Emily's hand rested gently on my back, her voice calm and steady. "When Abby had problems we encouraged her to handle it responsibly, like an adult, right?"

I nodded slowly... this wasn't an argument that I was going to win. Really, it wasn't an argument to begin with.

"So which diapers do you want to try first? I know Sarah said that the store-bought options weren't very good, but until I can order something better let's see how these work for you, OK?"

I looked at the options, a dizzying kaleidoscope of brightly colored packages.. The seemingly happy men, wearing gray underwear, adorned the front of the packages on the top shelves. The bottom shelves had store brands, some looking like baby diapers. Actual diapers. Like I wore when I was smaller. My eyes lingered there, but from what Emily had said about how she had handled Abby’s wetting, I was sure she’d expect me to try the pullups first. I took a package off the top of the rack and hurriedly put it in the cart. The green package said small/medium and night-something. The middle-aged guy looked confident and happy to be standing there in absorbent underwear. I wondered if he knew something that I didn’t.

"So you want to try the pull-ups?" Emily turned over a package of pull-ups, scrutinizing the size guide with a critical eye. Her finger traced a line. “These might be too big,” she mused, her tone practical yet caring. She looked at the shelves, turning a few other packages over.

I nervously tried to move the cart onwards, eager to get out of here, but without stopping her examination of the options she reached back and stopped the cart. She shrugged. "They didn't really work very well for Emily, and these might be too big for you, but sure, let's try them. I don't see anything smaller for adults, unless you like pink..." She looked at me, her eyebrow raised and a half-smile on her face as she held out the small-sized women's version of the package I had chosen, a smiling woman modeling the pink underwear on the pink package.

"No," I said, my voice a little too sharp, my gaze avoiding hers. I felt my chest tighten, the heat creeping up my neck. Emily didn't say anything, her hand gently sliding across my back as she reached for the package I had chosen. As I turned away and pushed the cart onward Emily replaced the pink package on the shelf and caught up, taking my arm. She leaned down to give me a little peck on the cheek and put her hand on mine, letting me know everything was going to be OK.

As we approached the checkout, Emily paused, her hand gently resting on my shoulder. "Do you need to use the restroom, honey? I'll handle the cart while I pay," she offered, her voice a soothing balm against my frayed nerves. Her touch was reassuring, grounding me in the moment. My heart raced—not just from the embarrassment of buying diapers but from the vulnerability of being so exposed. Yet, Emily’s understanding gaze and the warmth of her hand on my back made me realize that maybe this wasn't as bad as it seemed.

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I think I will." Relief washed over me as I slipped away from the cart, leaving Emily to navigate the checkout line alone. The thought of reliving childhood memories - standing in line with my mother as she placed a box of "Extra Large Size Baby Pants" on the conveyor belt - was too much to bear. I loved Emily for her strength and support, even if she seemed to be embracing this new dynamic between us with a bit too much enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, I met Emily back at the cart. She had already paid, the cart full of brown paper bags, except for a bright green package that sat prominently on top. My heart skipped a beat. "Couldn't he have put those in a paper bag too?" I muttered to her as the sliding door opened, letting us out into the bright sunshine, which only served to light up the green bag like a beacon.

"Bags are ten cents apiece, Greg, and," she emphasized, "And MY FATHER doesn't care." She gave me a sly wink, "Now, you try and argue with a man who's been selling diapers for thirty years." I rolled my eyes. I appreciated the attempt, but my emotional ability to deal with this was pretty much exhausted. As we walked to the car, Emily, sensing my discomfort, gently took my hand. "It's okay, honey. You'll get used to it. And besides, you’ll look so handsome in your new diapers." She kissed me softly on the cheek. Her smile was reassuring, but there was a glint in her eye that hinted at something more.

As we entered the house, the weight of the green package in my hands felt heavier than it should. Emily busied herself with putting away the groceries, her movements efficient and practiced, a stark contrast to my own awkward fumbling with the pull-ups. "Why don't you take those upstairs and... get familiar with them? You know, just in case." Emily suggested, her voice gentle but firm. "Maybe put them in the nightstand in Abby's room for now." I nodded, grateful for the direction but dreading the task.

As I climbed the stairs, each step felt like an admission of defeat. I entered Abby's room, the familiar surroundings now tinged with a new purpose. I opened the nightstand drawer, hesitating before placing the package inside. I didn't need to "familiarize" myself with them. That time would come soon enough.

Later, as I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth, I felt Emily’s presence behind me. Her hand rested gently on my back, her fingertips brushing the waistband of my pajama pants. "Are you going to put one on?" she asked, her voice soft and playful. "The pull-up, I mean. I think it's time."

"Ah, yes, after I finish brushing my teeth," I replied.

"Okay." She hugged me again and then left me to finish my ablutions, heading to the toilet. I spit, washed my mouth out, and washed my face. I trudged back to Abby's room. The bag was sitting on the bed where it had been since this evening when Emily had pulled it from it's hiding place, studiously being ignored every time I walked past the door. Its presence told me not only that Emily expected me to wear one of these, but she expected me to do it on that bed. It wasn't a ticket back into her bed. Yet. I sighed.

I opened the bag and pulled one out. It was much thinner than I expected. Though Abby had used them, I'd never really paid attention to hers; Emily had always handled that part. I had stayed out of it. Now, it was my turn. Stepping out of my pants, I slipped it on. It felt like it was barely there and rustled quietly when I moved. Sliding my pajama bottoms on, I could barely tell there was anything there at all.

As I climbed into bed, the crinkling of the sheets masked the faint rustle of the pull-up beneath my pajama pants. It wasn't uncomfortable. I wondered if I should use it tonight? Would it be too soon? I was thinking about what I could, or should, do when Emily entered. She glanced at the open bag and then at me. "Yes, honey, I put one on." I rolled my eyes as hard as the previous occupant of the room had.

"How does it fit?" She came over and sat down next to me on the bed, pulling the sheet back to expose my midsection.

"It's OK. I guess."

"Can I see?"

I hesitated, my cheeks flushing. It was one thing to wear a diaper, but quite another to have Emily inspect it. But she already knew what I was wearing. With a sigh I lifted myself slightly and pulled down my pajamas to reveal pullup beneath. Her fingers were gentle as she examined the fit, her touch a mix of concern and fascination.

"It's pretty loose. You're at the minimum of the waist range, so we'll see if it works..." She was thoughtful as she poked, prodded, pulled, and cupped.

"Well, with any luck we won't need to find out, right?" I asked. I mean I knew it was up to me, after all, even if she didn't.

"Sure, honey," she replied softly. "But if it does happen, no big deal—we'll find something that works for you." She leaned over and kissed me lovingly on the lips before pulling the sheet over me and turning out the light.

I felt relaxed. I wasn't back in our marital bed yet, but at least Emily was talking to me. More than talking to me. I realized it had been a long time since we had had such personal and meaningful conversations. I also realized I hadn't even had a beer today. That was probably for the best. Soon I was in dreamland.

[wendichester]

hey love your writing sm 🖤🖤

do you think you could maybe do a fic where little brother!reader and Sam and dean are hanging out after a case, maybe Cas too, and they have a little bonfire and drinking beer and dean is playing on his guitar and they're just relaxed and a bit sore and comforting each other and just rly fluffy and bonding time

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ashes and chords,

summary. post-hunt bonding moments with the brothers are always the best.

pairing. sam + dean winchester x lil bro!reader ft. castiel genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 526

notes / warnings. mild alcohol use, light language, post-case fatigue.

The fire crackles like it’s got something to say, and honestly, it probably does—too bad none of you speak fluent bonfire. You’re tucked in your hoodie like a burrito, nursing a half-warm beer, watching flames eat through logs with the same kind of lazy hunger you had for that roadside diner an hour ago.

Dean’s perched on a camping chair like it’s a throne, guitar in his lap, fingers lazily picking at strings. Not a real song—just little half-formed melodies that live in the space between words. It fits the mood perfectly.

Sam's stretched out on the ground, back against a log, legs all long and annoyingly relaxed. He’s got that post-hunt stiffness in his shoulders, same as you, but he’s smiling like his bones didn’t just get rattled by a wendigo in rural Iowa.

Even Cas showed up. Which is rare. He’s standing off to the side like someone invited him to the wrong party but he's too polite to leave. His eyes are fixed on the fire, like he's trying to understand it. You think maybe he is.

“You know,” Dean says, not looking up from his guitar, “we should do this more often.”

Sam hums, tipping his beer toward the stars. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.” Dean strums something that sounds suspiciously like “Take It Easy” and grins. “Don’t be a smartass.”

You snort, legs curled under you on the blanket. “That’s your thing, isn’t it?”

Dean mock gasps. “You wound me.”

Cas tilts his head. “He appears unharmed.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and even you crack up because God, Cas is funny without trying and Dean looks like someone just stole his car and insulted his music taste.

There’s a beat of silence. Comfortable. The kind of quiet that only comes after blood and bruises and making it out alive. You feel it settle in your chest, that deep, rare kind of peace that sneaks up on hunters when the world isn’t ending for five consecutive minutes.

Dean plays softer now, almost absent-mindedly. A lullaby for hunters. “You did good today,” he says, just like that, quiet but firm.

You blink. “We all did.”

“Still. You held your ground. I'm proud of you.”

And man, that—that hits different. You glance away like you're not trying to blink it back. Sam nudges your knee with his boot, a silent I heard that too, little bro.

Cas sits down finally, awkward and stiff like he’s still learning how to do the whole “hangout” thing. He watches you for a second. “You were brave.”

That’s what gets you. Not the praise. Not the beer. Not the fire or the guitar or even Dean being sentimental. It’s Cas, looking at you like you matter. Like you mean something.

“Thanks,” you murmur, voice scratchy. “Means a lot.”

Dean starts a new tune, familiar and slow. It’s Simple Man. He doesn’t sing the words, just plays them. You know them anyway.

And in the middle of the night, surrounded by your weird little found family, your body sore and your heart full—you let yourself breathe.

For once, you let yourself feel safe.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[apollabarnes]

part twenty

evan doesn't talk about it until they get back to the house. bobby's tests are inconclusive. it hasn't happened again. it could just be a pinched nerve; the recommendation is for bobby to keep a pain journal and they'll keep redoing the tests at regular intervals.

"jesus, tommy," evan falls onto his couch, staring at the ceiling. "jesus, what's he going to do?"

"don't go borrowing trouble before it shows up at the door asking for a cup of sugar — my grandmother used to say that," tommy says, catching the look that evan gives him. tommy sits down on the coffee table across from him. "if you stay laying down like that, you won't be able to turn your head for the next two days."

"how do you—"

"evan, that couch is the least comfortable one i've slept on in twenty years."

"i'd be sorry about that except—" evan trails off.

yeah, makes sense. the end of that sentence is tommy blowing everything up. he wouldn't want to relive it either.

"do you want me to go pick up the jeep for you?" tommy asks instead.

evan hesitates. "my next shift is in two days. when do you…"

"two days, i guess."

"you guess?"

"cap told me to take the week."

"are you in trouble?" evan asks, sitting up abruptly.

"i don't think so. they would have told me already," tommy sighs, "it's just vacation time, not unpaid leave."

"but it's because you helped us. that's not fair," evan protests.

"i took off in the middle of a shift with my partner, our helicopter, and no warning. and then i briefly got us arrested by the fbi. it's basically a miracle that nothing went wrong because we weren't available." tommy shrugs, rubbing his thumb over the inside of his wrist.

"and you did that all because athena called you." evan stares at him, eyes wide and awed.

tommy feels itchy. he swallows. "well, she called. but howie's saved my life. and," it's tempting to trail off, to let evan fill in the blanks on his own. he's good at that, except when he's not. except for when tommy does the same and then they're having two different conversations. "and you were there. if there was something that i could do to help, then i had to do it."

"why?" evan pushes.

"you know…" tommy laughs, the sound scraping across his throat. stop deflecting, stop assuming, say something true. "you told me flying into the hurricane was the most fun you'd had since you got struck by lightning. it might have been the best night i had since i left the 118. there was this other night where i kissed a cute guy in his kitchen. that was pretty good too."

"i like this guy so much," tommy continues, before he can chicken out. "it scares me all the time. i can't know that he needs help and not show up. and because i'm so shit scared of losing what i had, i left him before he could leave me."

"tommy."

"yeah, i know. i know you wouldn't have. isn't that scarier?"

evan stares at him and tommy blinks, the corners of his eyes damp.

"were you ever going to tell me that?"

"while your dad and howie and hen are in the hospital? that wasn't exactly the plan."

"but you did have a plan."

"not really? i assumed one day athena would tell me — assuming she didn't get tired of me first — that you'd gotten engaged to some nice woman," tommy musters up a smile for evan. "first and last man but not… the last."

"wow."

when did evan get so close? tommy blinks, evan's breath gusting across his cheek.

"first of all, athena doesn't spend multiple nights with someone she doesn't like. she doesn't even have a partner," evan teases gently. "second of all. i'm really into this guy i know. i haven't met a woman in ages, and certainly not a nice one."

"evan."

"i asked you to stay last night. i want you around all the time, tommy. because it's you. i like you so much." evan squeezes tommy's hand, leans in to brush a kiss over the corner of his mouth. "thank you for staying. thank you for coming back."

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six // part seven // part eight // part nine // part ten // part eleven // part twelve // part thirteen // part fourteen // part fifteen // part sixteen // part seventeen // part eighteen // part nineteen

[alltoowille]

Sundayyy snippet

Proof that rebel rebel wilmon do more than just suffer and fight all the time <3 they also have sex and cry!

NSFW xx

Wille just cried.

Simon crawled over him, hovering close. He took him by the back of the head and tucked him into his neck, shushing him gently and scratching his dull nails along Wille’s scalp. Wille shuddered helplessly in the embrace, overwhelmed by Simon’s patience and grace, to let him be a snotty, sniveling mess in the middle of sex, to soothe and coax out his emotions.

The first time Wille cried during sex he shut down to make the tears stop. His arousal vanished with the stomach churning vulnerability of his face screwing up and his eyes leaking evidence of his brokenness. So he gulped in air and held very still and soon there were no more tears, and his face was normal, and he wasn’t hard anymore, and he didn’t look long into Simon’s eyes for the rest of the night.

The second time he cried during sex, he tried to do the same thing, and Simon slapped him hard across the chest from where he perched, riding Wille like his life depended on it. Open palm, loud smack, and the slow reddening of a patch of skin on his pec. Wille gasped in air, and more tears escaped and all he could say was “again.”

Each time Simon made him cry, he pushed him farther. To feel more, to let go of more. There was always more to feel. There was always more to let go of.

His breathing stuttered as his head cleared with each drop that rolled down his face. Simon whispered it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, Wille, I’m here.

Simon pressed his thigh into Wille’s crotch. “Make yourself feel good, use my leg,” he kissed all over Wille’s face, holding his head against the pillow by his hair.

Wille’s mouth was open, lips pouted, nose too clogged to breathe through. The soaking wet noises that accompanied his ragged breath humiliated him. He worked his hips forward, something bright blooming at the pressure and friction.

“Does that feel good?” Simon said in a low voice.

The question mortified him and he locked both ankles behind the leg Simon was so generously letting him grind against. He closed his eyes as tight as he could.

“Hey,” Simon said, then, quicker than lightning, spit on his face.

Wille felt the wetness land with a force and before he even comprehended the action, Simon smudged his thumb in a line through the saliva across Wille’s cheek.

“Answer me,” he said. Wille opened his mouth.

“Yes, uh, yes, feels good,” he whined. Simon's slick thumb slid between his lips and pressed hard on his tongue.

“Good,” Simon said. His next words were quieter. “I want you to feel good.”

There was something meek in the soft plea, like Simon was begging him. Wille closed his eyes and whimpered pathetically around Simon’s thumb, feeling ragged and undone.

Simon’s love made him feel like he was being shredded into a tattered mess on the floor and he thrashed up into the feeling.