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brookghaib-blog · 3 days ago

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The ghost I left behind - II

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Words: 7,03k

Chapter I , III

18 months ago

The dinner rush had slowed to a crawl.

It was one of those mid-week slumps where time dragged its feet, and the only people who came in were either regulars who knew the staff by name or wanderers with nowhere better to be. Y/N moved between tables with practiced rhythm, balancing plates and coffee refills like second nature, her back sore and her feet aching in shoes she’d long worn past comfort.

The little bell above the entrance jingled.

A man walked in—mid-fifties, pinched face, suit slightly wrinkled like it had seen better years. He looked around with thinly veiled disgust before huffing and plopping himself into the booth by the window—Table 9. The corner one. The one nobody liked serving because the light always flickered overhead and the booth’s cushion was partially split.

Y/N forced a smile and approached, flipping open her notepad.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to Cluckin’ Bucket. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

He didn’t look up. Just waved his hand in the air like she was a gnat.

“Coffee. Black. And make sure it’s fresh.”

“Of course,” she said gently, tucking the pen behind her ear.

A few minutes later, she returned with a mug, carefully setting it in front of him.

“I’ll give you a moment with the menu—”

He cut her off without lifting his eyes. “Jesus, you’re slow. Do you people even train here, or just pick up anyone who needs cigarette money?”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“I… I’m sorry?”

He finally looked at her, and his smile wasn’t kind. “You should be. You’re lucky anyone even eats here with the way this place is run. What are you, twenty? You going to be slinging grease until you hit thirty? Classy.”

She stiffened, drawing a steadying breath. Her fingers clenched slightly around her notepad.

“Sir, I’m doing my best. If there’s something wrong with the service, I can ask someone else to take your—”

“Don’t get huffy with me, sweetheart. Just bring me a two-piece meal. And none of that soggy crap you people usually serve. If I find a hair in it again like last time, I swear to God…”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, and something heavy pulled at her chest.

“I’ll put in your order,” she said, voice quiet, calm—but the burn in her throat was rising fast.

As she turned, he muttered just loud enough to hear, “No wonder your kind ends up in jobs like this.”

She froze, mid-step.

No scene. No yelling. Just a single breath, then another. Her hands were shaking now, and she didn’t want to let them see.

“I’m taking five,” she murmured to the shift manager, barely audible as she walked past the kitchen.

She pushed through the back door that led into the alley behind the restaurant, where the dumpster smell mixed with exhaust and the quiet hum of city traffic. The cold air hit her like a slap. She pressed her back to the brick wall, closed her eyes, and finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

The burn in her chest wouldn’t go away.

She hated how easily people like that could unravel you. How fast kindness could be swallowed up by cruelty. She’d been so tired lately. Not just in her body but deep in her bones.

She wiped her eyes quickly. No tears, not here, not for that man. Just five minutes. That’s all she needed.

Then, just as she stepped away from the wall, she heard movement.

Around the corner of the building—behind the employee entrance—was a dim alcove where the employees usually went to smoke or cool off in costume. She walked quietly toward the sound, expecting maybe someone to be hiding out like her.

Then she saw him.

Bobby.

Still half in his chicken suit, the headpiece sitting on the crate beside him. His back was to her, hunched over something in his hands. The foil glinted faintly. A tiny click. The smell hit her first, acrid and chemical and sharp. The pipe. The lighter. The slow drag.

She stopped cold.

He turned his head slightly—just enough to catch her from the corner of his eye.

And froze.

They didn’t speak.

He looked at her like a child caught red-handed—eyes wide, mouth parting with some silent, unspoken apology already dying in his throat. His shoulders drooped, the weight of shame dragging him down like a stone.

Y/N didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at him. Everything in her face was quiet—but inside, it cracked.

She had always known, somewhere. The strange mood swings. The occasional vacant look in his eyes. The way he’d sometimes vanish after work and come back different.

But she told herself it wasn’t often. That he was better now. That he was trying.

And now, here it was. Not suspicion. Not a maybe. A truth, in sharp relief.

She blinked slowly. Her chest rising and falling like she’d just been punched there.

Bob didn’t speak. He didn’t run. He didn’t even look away.

She did.

Y/N turned and walked back inside without a word, the door swinging shut behind her.

She didn’t cry. She didn't say anything. Not yet.

She had a shift to finish.

The conversation would come later.

But in that moment, something inside her was already breaking.

The walk back to her place was drowned in silence.

The city buzzed around them — car horns, laughter, the occasional bark of a street vendor — but between Y/N and Bob, there was a vacuum. Her steps were steady, controlled, but her jaw was tight, eyes forward. Bob trailed a little behind, hands buried in his jacket pockets, shrinking into himself like a child expecting punishment. Shame clung to him like smoke.

They reached her apartment. It had become a second home to him — familiar, warm, soft in the corners where his own life was harsh. He’d left extra clothes in her drawers, knew how her kitchen light flickered when the microwave was running, had memorized the scent of her shampoo from the pillowcases.

He watched her unlock the door. She didn’t speak, just moved to the bathroom, turned the shower on. Steam soon crept under the crack in the door.

Bob stood there, frozen. A picture frame on the wall caught his eye — the two of them at the park, that first sunny date. She was kissing his cheek, laughing. He looked dazed, goofy, stunned by her affection. He still felt like that. Always stunned.

The door to the bathroom opened a while later. She came out in clean clothes, her damp hair pulled back in a loose bun. Wordlessly, she moved to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients like muscle memory. The rhythm of chopping vegetables, setting the water to boil, flipping something in a pan — it was too normal. Too quiet. It was the kind of silence that screamed.

Bob sat on the couch. His leg bounced. His palms were sweaty. The sound of a spoon clinking against a pan made his chest tighten.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

"Y/N," he croaked.

She didn’t turn.

He stood up slowly, walked a few steps toward the kitchen. "Please. Just say something."

The chopping stopped. She placed the knife down and leaned her hands on the counter, head bowed.

“Why?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Why do you do it?”

Her voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t accusing. It was sad. It was tired.

Bob swallowed hard. His throat burned. He opened his mouth, but for a moment, nothing came out.

Then he spoke, slowly, quietly. A confession years in the making.

“I was sixteen the first time I tried it,” he said. “It was just supposed to be for fun. Some kids in my neighborhood — we were bored, angry, messed up. I didn’t think it’d be a thing. But it stuck.”

He looked down at his hands like they weren’t his own.

“My brain… it’s not right. Hasn’t been for a long time. There’s this weight I carry every day. Like the world is pressing down on my chest, and everyone’s expecting me to breathe like it’s nothing. Some mornings I don’t even want to get up. Some nights I wish I wouldn’t wake up.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now.

“The meth — it made it quiet. Just for a while. It made me feel like I could do things. Like I wasn’t a loser, a disappointment. It tricked me into thinking I was normal.”

He stopped and turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, his voice breaking.

“But then I met you. And for the first time, I didn’t need it to feel okay. You made me want to stay clean. You made me believe I could. And I was trying, I swear, I was trying so fucking hard.”

He stepped closer, his voice desperate.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want to lose this — lose you. You’re the only good thing that’s ever really been mine.”

His knees buckled slightly as he dropped down to them in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I hate that I messed this up. I hate that I let you down. Please… please don’t give up on me. I swear I’ll get clean. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll go to meetings, therapy, rehab — anything. Just don’t walk away.”

Tears streamed down his face now, dripping onto the floor.

“I know I’ve got a thousand reasons to hate myself. I know I’m broken and messy and hard to love. But you… you make me want to be better. And I will. I promise. Just… don’t let this be the end.”

Y/N stood still for a moment, frozen, her hands still gripping the counter behind her.

And the only sound in the room was his quiet, wracked sobbing, and the distant clatter of boiling water on the stove, as dinner burned, untouched.

Bob stayed on his knees, eyes red and rimmed with shame, when his voice returned — quieter now, like a wound being exposed.

“My dad used to hit me,” he said. “Not just when he was mad — sometimes, I think, just because he didn’t know how else to talk. Or maybe he did, and he just liked watching me flinch.”

His eyes weren’t focused on her now. They stared past her, through her, into a corner of memory he rarely let himself go back to.

“He was a drunk. A real mean one. He’d come home and if the dishes weren’t done, or the TV was too loud, or I looked at him the wrong way — that was it. And my mom… she didn’t stop him. She just… endured. Like it was normal. Like it was just what families were.”

Y/N’s hands had gone still behind her on the countertop.

“I used to hide under my bed, back when I was little. I’d count the cracks in the floorboards, try to breathe as quietly as I could so he wouldn’t hear me. I remember thinking if I could just disappear for long enough, maybe he’d forget I existed.”

He laughed once — a low, broken sound that barely resembled laughter. “I used to wish I could disappear entirely.”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, but she said nothing yet. Let him speak.

“When I got older, I fought back. Not well. But I tried. And when I was seventeen, I left. Packed a trash bag with clothes and took a bus out. Thought I’d figure it out. Be free.”

He looked up at her then — just barely.

“But the thing is… when someone teaches you your whole life that you’re worthless, it doesn’t go away just because you leave the house. It follows you. It lives in you.”

His hands shook now, resting on his knees.

“I’ve spent my whole life feeling like I’m seconds away from falling apart. Like no matter how good something feels, I’m gonna ruin it. And I thought— I thought maybe if I numbed it, if I buried it, I could be normal.”

He exhaled, tears slipping freely now.

“But then you showed up. You, with your stupid coffee orders and your sweet laugh and the way you looked at me like I wasn’t a fucking disaster.”

His voice cracked, almost too much to continue.

“And now you know. Everything. The drugs. The lies. The damage. You know it all. So if you want me to leave, I will. I won’t fight it.”

Y/N moved then, slowly, quietly kneeling down in front of him. She reached for his face — her touch soft, careful — and wiped the tears from his cheeks, her own still silently falling.

“You’re not leaving,” she whispered, her voice firm despite its softness. “You don’t get to push me away, Bobby. Not tonight.”

He blinked at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“I’m gonna help you,” she said. “Not because I think I can fix you, or save you, or any of that hero complex bullshit. But because I see you. I see who you really are underneath all of it.”

She gave him a small, fragile smile. “And I know what it’s like. To fight temptation. To almost fall. You think I don’t get it? That I didn’t come close to things I don’t even like to think about now?”

Her thumb stroked his cheekbone, gently.

“The only difference is, I didn’t fall. Not back then. But you— Bobby, you got up. You got up today. You came home. That counts for something.”

She leaned in and kissed him, soft, slow — not fiery or frantic, but grounding. A tether to the world he was convinced he didn’t deserve.

And when she pulled back, his arms wrapped around her like a man clinging to the last piece of a life raft. His grip was tight, desperate. His body trembled against hers.

“Why…” he whispered, breath shaky against her shoulder. “Why do you love me?”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. Her own were glassy, full of heartbreak and something stronger — belief.

“Because I see the man you’re trying to be,” she said. “Because even when you’re at your lowest, you still try to protect me. Because you never looked at me like I was broken, even when I told you all the reasons I could be.”

He shook his head slightly, disbelief etched across every inch of his face.

“How…” he whispered. “How can someone have so much love for me?”

And she didn’t answer right away. She just kissed his forehead, brushing the damp hair from his face, and pulled him close again.

In the quiet of that little apartment — with the burnt dinner on the stove, with their photograph still crooked on the wall — Bob let himself cry like a child for the first time in years.

They forgot about their surroundings and just laid against the couch, and Y/N held him through it all, her love a quiet, unshakeable force wrapped around him like armor.

Still. Steady. Like she wasn’t afraid of what he’d just shown her.

He couldn’t even look at her when she said, softly, “You’re not the only one with ghosts, Bobby.”

He glanced at her. She wasn’t looking for sympathy — just understanding. Her voice didn’t shake. It was tired, but honest. Worn down from years of holding things in.

“I’ve never told anyone everything. Not like this,” she said. “But… did I ever mentioned to you about Jordan? He was my first love.”

Bob turned toward her, the lump in his throat tightening again.

“I wasn’t always like this. Quiet. Careful,” she said, a hollow laugh passing her lips. “I used to be… wild. Not in the good way.”

She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were shaking.

“My mom — she’s the kind of woman who never wanted a daughter. Especially not one who reminded her how much time she’d lost. She was beautiful once. And she hated that I got told the same thing. She treated me like I was competition in her own house. Constantly picking at me. My clothes. My body. My laugh. Everything I was, she hated. It’s like I walked into a room and reminded her of all the choices she didn’t make.”

Bob’s brows drew in, his mouth a tight line of hurt on her behalf.

“And my dad?” she scoffed. “He was a college professor. Brilliant. Poised. Married to appearances. When I turned twelve, he started spending more nights in his office than at home. Eventually, he ran off with one of his grad students. Left a sticky note on the fridge. ‘Don’t let your mother go crazy.’ That was it.”

She blinked hard, not wanting to cry again. Not for them.

“I became the adult in the house before I hit puberty. My mom drank. Screamed. Slept through entire weekends. I cleaned. I cooked. I learned how to smile and make it look real. I still loved her tho, I never really blamed her for being the way she was, maybe she had reasons and I just… came in the wrong timing.”

She leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might hold something safer than the past.

“By the time I was sixteen, I was going out every night with older friends. We used fake IDs, got into clubs. I was… reckless. Desperate to feel like someone wanted me. Like I wasn’t invisible unless I was being yelled at.”

She turned to Bob, finally, her eyes watery.

“That’s how I met Jordan.”

Even saying his name made her stomach twist.

“He owned the club. Rich. Handsome. Wore these stupid expensive suits like he was always playing dress-up for some fantasy life. And he noticed me. Like… noticed me.”

She laughed bitterly. “I thought I’d won the lottery. I was seventeen, and he was thirty-two, and I felt like I was starring in some tragic love song. He gave me everything. Drove me around in his sports car. Bought me designer dresses. Called me ‘his girl’ in front of everyone.”

Bob stayed completely still, listening with his whole soul.

“But it wasn’t love,” she said. “It was manipulation. Control. He liked that I was pretty and broken. Liked that I thought being chosen by him meant I was worth something.”

Her hands tightened in her lap.

“Then one night… he took me home after a club party. I’d said no. I remember saying it. I was tired. I didn’t want to stay over. He gave me a drink, just so “ we could relax”— I didn’t know something was in it. I passed out in his bed.”

Her voice cracked then, finally.

“When I woke up, I wasn’t wearing my dress anymore. Just a sheet. He was in the kitchen making coffee like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.”

She looked at Bob, her voice hoarse.

“I didn’t do anything. I just… laid there. Crying. Because I realized right then — I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for someone to lie to me sweetly enough that I could pretend it was real.”

A long pause followed. Bob’s hand found hers, trembling but firm.

“He never went to jail. Of course not. I didn’t tell anyone. Who was gonna believe me? I was just some ‘party girl’ sneaking into clubs with an older man.”

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

“So I went numb. For a time, I just thought that dating would lead me to the same path my mother went into. I told myself I deserved it for being stupid. For needing love too much. Life stopped being colorfull, and just went with the whatever the wind took me, and it was not far. I got out of the house, never truly cared to repair the relationship with my parents, but going with no money wasn't very smart, didn't even got the education I desired, got away from my friends. And when I realized I was stuck in a loop, always stagnant, never really improving, and I just accepted it.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt, breath shaky.

“But then… you.”

Bob’s eyes locked with hers, wide and wet and full of disbelief.

“You came into that stupid fast food place in a chicken suit. Nervous. Sad. So fucking awkward. But you were kind. And you made me feel… safe.”

She smiled through the tears.

“And every day, even on your worst days, you looked at me like I was something worth staying sober for. And that meant everything, Bobby. It still does.”

She moved closer to him, took his face gently in her hands.

“I know what it’s like to carry pain that eats at you. I know what it’s like to feel like your story’s already been written — and it ends with you broken. I don’t judge for the path you took, sometimes I…I thought about it, I hang out with the wrong people, of course I have done it before, I didn’t rely on it but…I just I don’t know, I was lucky I guess.”

Bob was crying now, hard, his face buried against her shoulder.

“But it’s not over,” she whispered. “We’re not done.”

He looked up, shaking.

She brushed a tear from his cheek and smiled through her own.

"I see you. Not the addiction. Not the mistakes. You. And I love you… even the parts you hide.”

Bob let out a trembling breath and held her tighter, like he’d never let go again.

And in that moment — surrounded by all the wreckage, the shadows of what they'd both survived — two broken souls found something whole.

Present day

The days bled into each other now.

She moved like a shadow through the fluorescent-lit diner, apron tied tight around her waist, sneakers dragging just a little more than usual. The name tag still read Y/N, though the letters were beginning to smudge. No one commented. No one really looked.

“Welcome to Cluckin’ Bucket. What can I get you?” “Refill’s free. I’ll be right back.” “Fries come with that. You want ranch or ketchup?”

Her voice didn’t change. Not cheerful, not cold—just flat. A practiced cadence with just enough inflection to pass as human. The kind of tone that no one questioned. That no one cared enough to dig beneath.

Her coworkers passed by in a quiet shuffle. No jokes. No checking in. Just nods and tray exchanges. Maybe they could sense it—the weight around her like a storm cloud that never lifted. Or maybe they were used to it by now.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom during her ten-minute break and didn’t recognize her own face. The bump beneath her uniform was unmistakable now. She didn’t bother trying to hide it anymore. There was nothing left to hide behind. No more stories. No more pretending that he might show up mid-shift and scoop her into his arms like it was all some misunderstanding.

The clock ticked by. Her shift ended without fanfare.

She changed in the back room, put on her coat, wrapped her scarf around her neck. No goodbyes. Just the squeak of the door as it closed behind her.

The night was cold but clear. A rare calm in the chaos of the city.

She walked with her earbuds in, phone buried deep in her coat pocket, letting the random shuffle take over. Whatever came on, came on. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t have preferences. She just needed something to drown out the silence.

Halfway home, her feet started to ache. She spotted a bench tucked beside an empty bus stop, under a flickering streetlight. It wasn’t much, but it was empty. And it was still.

She sat down slowly, one hand instinctively resting on her stomach.

The music kept playing.

And then, like fate—like punishment—their song came on. That stupid song, that she could not stop listenning. "Yours" - maye.

That one he used to hum under his breath while frying chicken in the kitchen. The one they danced to once in the middle of their living room at midnight, barefoot and grinning, cheap wine on the counter and nothing but love between them.

Her throat tightened.

She stared down at the cracked pavement beneath her feet, the light above humming faintly as it flickered.

He loved me, she thought. He really did.

That was the cruelest part. He hadn’t been faking it. She’d felt it in his touch, in the way he held her in the mornings, the way he kissed her forehead when she cried after a long shift. It wasn’t pretend. He loved her.

But he left anyway.

He loved her, and he left.

The thought came like a stormcloud, suffocating the warmth before it could grow.

He had made a choice. She knew that now. The police confirmed it. He had planned it. Saved up. Booked a ticket. Crossed oceans not to be found. She spent her free time removing the flyers she had put up for him.

She wanted to scream at him. Why wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t the baby enough? But screaming wouldn't help. It never did. It only made her feel hollow afterward.

Still, her mind wandered—always back to him.

Maybe he regrets it, she thought. Maybe he’s out there, wishing he could come back. Maybe he thinks about her. About this child.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Every hopeful thought fought against the brutal weight of reality like a war inside her skull.

She was tired of the battle. Hope hurt almost as much as the truth.

She lowered her head into her hands and let the music keep playing. The baby shifted inside her, a small, fluttering reminder that she wasn’t completely alone.

But she felt like she was.

She lived in limbo now. Between memory and disappointment. Between what they had and what was left behind.

The bench was cold. The city was loud. But she stayed there for a long time, because going home meant facing the silence of their apartment again.

And she wasn’t ready for that yet.

Meanwhile, in Malaysia- 2 months ago

The air in Malaysia was thick — not just with humidity, but with something heavier. Guilt didn’t have a scent, but if it did, Bob imagined it would smell like the sweat-drenched room he was holed up in. Ceiling fan rattling overhead. One bare light bulb swaying from a cracked ceiling. A single mattress on the floor. A half-empty bottle of water at his feet.

He hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone in days.

The job they’d given him was temporary, meaningless. He moved crates from one side of a warehouse to the other. A ghost with hands. No one asked his name. He didn’t offer it.

Every night, he collapsed onto the mattress like a dying star — heavy, slow, and silent. And every night, her face found him again.

Y/N.

He could still see the way her hair fell across her face in the morning when she leaned over the stove, cooking eggs in his worn-out T-shirt. The way she would hum softly under her breath while drying dishes. The way her fingers curled instinctively over the swell of her belly the day she told him they were going to be parents.

He had kissed that hand.

And then he left.

Because he was a coward. Because the drugs were easier. Because he’d convinced himself she was better off without him.

But the truth was uglier than that.

He missed her so much it made him physically ache. Not just her body, her warmth — but the space she created around him. Safe, forgiving, real. She was the first person in his life who hadn’t looked at him like a lost cause.

And he’d proven them all right.

He rubbed at his face, scrubbing tears away before they could fall. But it was useless. They came anyway.

He reached under the mattress and pulled out the photo.

It was wrinkled, faded from being handled so many times. It showed the two of them sitting in the park on their first date — the one where she packed the entire meal and insisted he try her potato salad. He hated eggs, but he ate it anyway because she’d made it with so much love.

She was laughing in the photo. He remembered that moment. He'd just made some dumb joke about the squirrel trying to steal her sandwich. She had leaned into him, eyes crinkling, and he thought, I’m never letting go of this.

He traced the edge of her face with his finger.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He’d whispered it every night since he left. Sometimes louder. Sometimes choked out between sobs. But she couldn’t hear him. She would never hear him.

He imagined her now — back in that little apartment. Alone. Tired. Maybe crying. Maybe angry. Maybe both. Maybe she hated him. He wouldn’t blame her.

But maybe… just maybe, some part of her still believed in him.

And that was the cruelest hope of all.

Because he didn’t deserve it.

He stared at the ceiling, hands trembling. The meth wasn’t hitting like it used to. The numbness didn’t come fast enough anymore.

And still, in his mind, her voice lingered.

"You’re stronger than this, Bobby. You’re not your worst day."

He closed his eyes and clutched the photo to his chest.

But in this place, across oceans and guilt, those words felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone better than him.

Still, he held onto them.

Because it was all he had left.

Night came early in this part of the city.

Not because the sun set any quicker — but because the shadows here swallowed light before it could settle. The alleyways twisted like veins, pulsing with neon flickers and muffled shouting from nearby vendors. The street smelled like oil and rot and burning sugar. Bob barely noticed anymore.

He hadn’t slept. Not really. Just nodded off in strange places — under stairwells, on benches, wherever his body finally gave in. He was five days clean and forty-eight hours high. Maybe more. Time didn't work right anymore.

His hands shook as he walked. Sweat stuck his shirt to his back. His mouth was dry. Eyes too wide. He was running low — the last dose hadn’t been enough. Not by a long shot. The pain crept in again. The ache behind his eyes, the guilt in his ribs. Her voice in his head.

"Bobby, don’t lie to me." "We can get through this." "I love you, even when you don’t love yourself."

He gritted his teeth and shoved her voice aside.

She wasn’t here. She wasn’t real anymore.

He needed to make her go away.

He ducked down a narrow side street, where dealers sometimes drifted like ghosts, offering plastic baggies with eyes too old for their faces. But tonight, no one was there. Just the hum of faulty streetlights and the sting of desperation in his chest.

“Looking for something?”

Bob stopped.

The voice was smooth — too smooth. Like glass over ice. It came from a man leaning against a rusted metal door, half-shrouded in shadow. White shirt, dark blazer, not a bead of sweat on him despite the thick air. He looked out of place here. Clean. Controlled. Dangerous.

Bob didn’t answer. Just stared with hollow, half-blown pupils.

The man stepped forward slowly, like he already knew the answer.

“You’re not from here. You don’t belong. You’re just trying to disappear, aren’t you?” His smile was thin. “I know that look. Like you’re trying to burn every part of yourself out so there’s nothing left.”

Bob blinked, confused. Agitated. “You got something or not?”

“I have something,” the man said. “But it’s not what you’re expecting.”

That should’ve been a red flag. Maybe it was. But Bob had walked past every red flag he’d ever seen without blinking. His curiosity was frayed, his caution dulled. The man held out a card.

“Come with me. Right now. We’re looking for volunteers. People like you — no strings, no questions. You let us do what we need, and in return...you won’t feel a thing ever again.”

Bob stared at the card. It was black. No writing. Just a silver symbol — something sharp and angular, like a thunderbolt wrapped in a serpent. "O.X.E"

“What is this?”

“A way out,” the man said simply. “You’ve tried everything else. Let this be your last door.”

Bob hesitated.

His skin itched. His teeth clenched. His knees ached. His chest hurt. Not from withdrawal — but from remembering her. From remembering what he left behind. The girl with stars in her eyes who made him believe, for a little while, that he could be worth something. That he could be whole.

He swallowed hard.

“Will it make me better? Like... a better person? Useful?” he whispered.

The man’s smile didn’t change. “Eventually.”

Bob nodded once.

That’s all it took.

And just like that, he followed the man into the dark, down a corridor lined with flickering lights and metal doors — unaware that the choice he just made wouldn’t numb his pain.

It would unleash it.

Present day, 7a.m- New York

The weak morning sun slanted through the café windows in narrow ribbons, cutting through the steam rising from two mismatched coffee mugs. The air smelled faintly of burnt toast and the overworked espresso machine. It was too early for the place to be busy, and too quiet for comfort. A tiny bell chimed each time the door opened, but no one came in. Not yet.

Y/N sat across from Officer Cooper, her hands wrapped tightly around a chipped mug like it was the only thing anchoring her in place. Her eyes were tired. Dark crescents hung beneath them, untouched by makeup. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose across her face. She looked thin — too thin — except for the roundness of her belly, which pushed gently against the edge of the table.

She stirred her coffee slowly, even though she hadn’t added sugar. Or cream. Just for something to do with her hands.

“I’m sorry I called,” she said, her voice quiet. “I just didn’t know who else…”

Cooper, across from her, shook his head. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I told you before — if you need something, you call. That wasn’t just some empty promise.”

She offered him a small, broken smile. It didn’t last.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” she admitted, barely above a whisper. “Been thinking about things I shouldn’t. Options.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of options?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers moved to the base of her belly, holding it gently, protectively. Her gaze dropped to the table, then shifted to the window. She didn’t want to see his face when she said it.

“I’ve been looking into adoption,” she said finally. “Private. Families who… who can’t have kids. People who want this. Who have homes. Stability. Money. Things I don’t.”

Cooper leaned back, visibly stunned. His coffee mug clinked softly against the table as he set it down, forgotten. “That’s a serious thing to say, Y/N.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m saying it.”

He studied her. The deep-set sadness in her eyes. The stiffness in her shoulders. The fragility in her voice that she was trying so hard to hide.

“Do you want to give the baby up,” he asked gently, “or is this the last thing on a long list of desperate maybes?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her lips trembled, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop it. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She turned her face toward the window, where early morning joggers passed by, carefree. Laughing. Living.

“I love this baby,” she said, her voice breaking. “So much it makes me sick. But I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even have enough money for rent next month. My job’s cutting my hours ‘cause I’m showing too much. I can't stand on my feet that long anymore. I’ve sold half our stuff just to make it through. And every time I think I’m crawling forward, I just— I slide back.”

Cooper reached across the table and placed a weathered hand over hers. It was warm. Solid. Like a rock in a storm.

“You’re not alone,” he said quietly. “Not anymore.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Feels like I am.”

“You don’t have to make this decision today. Or alone. There’s help out there. I can pull some strings — get you in touch with someone who can offer a better job. Something safer, something that won’t drain the life out of you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if I have to. In the meantime, I can help, I told you I'm a grandfather, I can give you stuff for the baby, stuff that my granddaughter outgrown, I don't know, I can give you some money, help you get on you feet.”

She finally looked at him, eyes shimmering.

“You’d do that?”

He nodded, serious. “I would. I told you I have a daughter like you, I know my help would be for a good outcome.” He let out a deep breath. "I know you're just a good person with unresolved past damaged, and I could I look at someone who resembles my babygirl and let them suffer the consequences of other people's actions Y/N."

Y/N looked back out the window, her shoulders shaking slightly as the tears finally came. But she didn’t sob. She cried quietly, like she’d gotten good at it. Like it was part of her morning routine.

“I keep thinking about him,” she whispered. “Not the one that left. The one before. The one who came home with flowers after a long shift. The one who said I made him feel like maybe he wasn’t broken.”

She wiped her cheeks, her hand trembling.

“I have the photos. And this baby. And some dumb song we used to play every Sunday morning while cooking pancakes. That’s all I have left of him.”

She exhaled shakily, resting a hand over her bump again.

Cooper was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but firm.

“What was it about him, Y/N?” he asked. “What made him worth all this pain?”

She looked at him, startled.

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re holding onto something that’s dragging you down so far, I’m afraid you’ll never come back up. What was so special about Bob Reynolds that even your love for this baby’s not enough to let him go? You spent months knocking at my door every single day, demading those lazy bastards to do something, persisting, looking for him. Losing yourself for a guy who planned leaving while sleeping by your side.”

Y/N didn’t answer, not right away.

Y/N didn’t look at Cooper when she spoke.

Her gaze stayed pinned to the window, as if the right answer might walk by, wearing Bobby’s face.

“I know him,” she said quietly. “That’s why I can’t let go. Not because I’m stupid or weak or in denial. I know Bobby.”

Cooper leaned forward slightly, listening.

“I know how dark his thoughts can get. How he used to wake up some mornings and just… sit there. Quiet. Staring at the floor like the weight of being alive was too much. And he’d smile at me, pretend everything was okay, but I could see it. That hollow look in his eyes. I know how much he hated himself for the things he did. How ashamed he was of the drugs. Of needing them.”

Her voice cracked, but she pushed through.

“He thought I didn’t know how deep it went. But I did. I always did. And I never once judged him. I just wanted him to stop because I loved him. Not because I was angry. Not because I wanted to fix him. Because I wanted him alive. And he tried, God, he tried. Even when he failed, he tried again.”

She paused, drawing a shaky breath.

“You’re asking me why I can’t let him go?” she said, finally turning to Cooper, eyes brimming with exhausted pain. “Because he never let go of me. Even when he was breaking, even when the drugs were louder than my voice — he’d still look at me like I was the only good thing he had left. He knew everything about me, Cooper. The ugly things. The things I never told anyone.”

She looked down at her hands, as if the secrets were written in her palms.

“I told him how I used to be, I was really a bad person for myself, specially in my teeangers years. God... So much shit that I don't even understand how I let all of it happen, but you know what?”

Her voice softened to a whisper.

“He kissed me. Just kissed me, and said, ‘That doesn’t change a thing.’ Like none of it made me less. And I know it did, that's how I ended up here, not pregnant and alone, but here. And was doomed before him, anyway, we were eachothers only light.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks now, freely, silently.

“I didn’t have to pretend with him. I didn’t have to be strong every second of the day. He’d remind me — every single day — how far I’d come. Even on the days I couldn’t see it. Even when he couldn’t see it in himself.”

She pressed a hand to her belly, as if grounding herself.

“That’s why I can’t stop loving him. That’s why I keep hoping. Because the man I knew wasn’t just an addict. He was kind. And scared. And trying. And maybe… maybe he left because he thought I deserved better. Maybe he thought disappearing was mercy.”

Her voice was almost gone now. Just a whisper, like she was talking more to herself than to Cooper.

“But I didn’t need better. I just needed him.”

The silence between them settled like dust.

Cooper said nothing. What could he say? There was no law or logic that could dismantle the truth of what she'd just laid bare. No policy, no report, no advice to hold against the unshakable bond she'd painted with her words.

So he just sat there, eyes on her, while she stared through the glass at a world that kept moving without her.

#robert reynolds x you #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts x reader #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds #marvel #thunderbolts #sentry x reader #sentry #void x reader #thunderbolts*#marvel x reader #mcu fandom #marvel x you #marvel mcu #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

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hollyhomburg · 3 days ago

Text

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.

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imagine-horizons · 24 hours ago

Text

pairing: law x gn!reader

Warning: none - just fluff, and a bit of jealousy from the reader

—————

In the quiet of the Polar Tang library, that was where you found solace. Your fingers lightly brushed against the spine of each book, your eyes scanning each title and its author.

Most of the books that Law kept were medical and history, but there was a small collection of fictional classics. You scrunched your nose as you stopped briefly on “Romeo and Juliet.”

Seriously? You did not pen the Surgeon of Death as a hopeless romantic. You preferred novels with a bit of self -realization and romance, like Northanger Abbey. But Still, you pulled it off the shelf and flipped through the first few pages. It was worn at the edges with creases in its spine. It had definitely been well-read at one point. On the title page, a faded handwritten message had been scribbled. You stepped into a more lit area of the library to see what it said, and you felt your heart stop.

To my beloved Doctor:

Even if the world rejects our love, I will never deny our love , even in the face of death. When the day comes, may it rest forever in the City of Flowers.

You snapped the book shut, and quickly placed it back in its place. You felt like you had uncovered something private and intimate. The message must have been written to Law, but from who? Was it a secret lover that he met on his journeys?

You had never heard anyone from his crew mention anything , so either this mystery lover was a well kept crew secret, or no one knew. You glared at the book, and moved onto the next few books on the shelf. But you could barely focus, your thoughts still on the secret message. You glared at all the fictional classics - maybe you were better off reading non-fiction. You pulled a herbology book off the shelf, grabbed a pack of sticky notes and a pen , and headed towards one of the open tables.

“Y/N! What are you reading?” Ikkaku slid into the seat next to you. She was holding a novel in her hand that you unfortunately recognized.

“THat’s…” you started, and Ikkaku stared at the book.

“Oh yeah, I overheard some women during our last town visit chatting about romance novels,” she shrugged. “Our captain doesn’t exactly keep and extensive romance novel section, so I was surprised to see this.” She flipped to the first page and her eyes narrowed at the message.

“What are you two doing?” The sound of their Captain’s deep voice made the both of you jump out of your seats. Law was standing there, his one eyebrow raised at the response. “Why do you two look suspicious?” Before you could say anything, Ikkaku shoved the book at him.

“What’s this? Are you hiding a girlfriend from us?” Ikkaku teased.

“Girlfriend?!” Suddenly Penguin , Shachi and Bepo materialized out of nowhere next to Law.

“Where - let me see!” Penguin said , completely flabbergasted.

“Omigosh it’s a love letter!” Bepo gasped staring at the text. “It’s addressed to you, Captain.”

“You guys - “ Law said tersely. At that moment you stood up abruptly, startling all of them.

“You guys are so loud,” you managed to say. “I can’t focus.” And with that, you snatched your book up, and quickly left.

Why on earth did it bother you?

You and the Captain were not together. But there were moments were you felt your heart beat a little faster, with the attention he directed at you.

He would make you a cup of tea at night, while you took night watch, blanket in hand.

He would patiently explain some of the medical terminology , and procedures that he would perform. Which he would never take the time to explain to others, except you.

He was really good at following the stars as a map, and he had a weird knowledge of the Greek mythology behind its patterns.

You headed into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. You stared at the herbology book and the notes that you don’t remember taking , as you waited for the kettle to boil.

You were being petty, over a message.

“Y/N.” Your head shot up to see Law standing there, with the annoying book in his hand. “No books in the kitchen,” he scolded.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Law sat down next to you and you could feel him staring at you as you poured hot water into your cup of tea.

“That message was written for my father.” You felt your face turn red.

He knew it bothered you.

“My mother was a bit of a hopeless romantic,” he chuckled dryly. “But my father loved her for it, and she would read passages of it to him. When my sister and I were growing up in Flevance, she would read it to us.”

“Oh,” you managed to say. Law sighed.

“This was one of the only books I recovered from my home when I went back. I don’t remember the last time I read it, but it helps me to remember them.”

“And here I thought you were a hopeless romantic,” you joked, trying to break the awkwardness. Law set the book down in front of you and leaned forward to study you closer. You could feel your face heat up even more but you couldn’t pull your gaze away.

“I’m definitely not a romantic, and I’ve been in near hopeless situations,” Law said slowly. “But if there’s one thing I know, is I will fight for what means the most to me.” You didn’t know what to say, as the words sunk in. “What about you?”

“To death,” you said without hesitation. Law smirked and pulled back.

“You really are a Heart Pirate, aren’t you?” He said, with a hint of pride in his voice. With that , he left the room leaving you a little stunned at your interaction.

When your eyes turned back to the table, you realized that the novel was still sitting there. But there was something tucked into its pages - a note with writing that there was no mistaking , it was written by Law.

“There is nothing I would not do for [you]. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”

You felt your heart stop , and you clutched the note in your hands, in awe and disbelief.

Contrary to his partial words, the Surgeon of Death was definitely a romantic, and you were falling deeper for him with every passing day.

End

A/N: That last quote is not mine - but I give you a cookie / part 2 to this if you guess where that quote is from hehe

#trafalgar law x reader #law x you #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece #trafalgar law

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softsuo · 24 hours ago

Text

when their s/o gets jealous

⊱ you try to keep it at bay, but green-passing someone getting perhaps a bit too close to your boyfriend isn't your thing ; sakura, suo, kaji

⊱ request: "Imagine sakura, suo and kaji with an s/o that gets jealous and a bit possessive over them. Like not in a toxic, obsessive way but if they see their bfs getting hit on, best believe the s/o's gonna cling a bit more than they usually do and hold on to them until their jealousy simmers down 🙏😝😝"

⊱ w.c: 1.2k (total); 0.4k (average)

⊱ genre: fluff-ish

⊱ warnings: none

⊱ a/n: had too much writing this omg, thank you for requesting <3

sakura haruka

you try to keep it at bay, truly. few things make you happier than seeing people appreciate sakura after all, it warms your heart to extents beyond human comprehension. there is still a limit though.

it hadn’t even been a fight, only sakura helping two girls clearly bothered by some, quote unquote, punks with mere half-threats. it’s part of his duty, right? and it’s also part of his duty to make citizens feel safe, right? so it only makes sense for him to respond when the two come up to thank him, right? and it only makes sense for them to shamelessly act like you’re literally not even there, right? no. no, it doesn’t, and while you can’t blame him and his nature, it admittedly stresses you out when sakura doesn’t know how to respond through more than flustered stutters.

you like to follow the principle of being the bigger person. this time, you find yourself being the bigger problem instead.

“haruka,” you call out, fully going against your so-called principle once you wrap your arms around him from behind. you’re quick to feel his entire body shiver against your own, and if he already wasn’t flustered, you’re sure he is now. maybe you feel a bit bad for doing this to him in broad daylight, but you make a mental note to just apologize a little later. “nirei and suo are waiting for us.”

“what the he— since when do you call me h—” sakura makes an attempt to turn around, though interrupts himself upon processing the smallest of a pout you struggle with suppressing into his back. it’s just a guess, one he’s not certain of at all, but he does know better than to take any risks; clearing his throat, he turns back to the two girls, awkwardly rubbing his burning neck as he explains there’s somewhere you’re supposed to be right now and have to leave.

thus, that’s how you stay there until they’re both out of sight and sakura, still dusted in pink, finally puts his guess out there, “the hell are you being jealous for?”

“the hell are you getting shy around girls for?”

“oh, shut up!”

“and you speak up!”

suo hayato

it’s not like you’re angry or embarrassed or something along those lines, yet your face is damn near burning as you keep it buried into suo’s chest. you’re lying flush against him, legs tangled together, stretched over the sofa. you should feel comfortable. you don’t, and you’re not telling him why.

“i’m sorry, my love,” he apologizes, although he’s quite sure he can’t recall anything particularly wrong throughout the day you spent outside. “so can you please look at me already?”

as if stubborn were your middle name, you shake your head, but mutter anyway, “it’s not your fault.”

“so something is wrong?”

“... i don’t want to talk about it.”

“by chance, are you—”

“suo, no.”

a silence fills the room. only briefly, before suo lets out a light sigh. a hand reaches to gently, barely, caress the back of your head, the touch making your fist subconsciously loosen its grip on his shirt. “you know,” he begins, and your shoulders relax — partly from the soothing tint lacing his voice, partly because there’s no use trying to get around someone so naturally observant. “there’s nothing you have to be jealous of.”

“i know there’s nothing i have to be jealous of,” you retort, nudging his knee with your own. “but that doesn’t mean i have a thing for watching others hit on you like that.”

suo truly tries to hold it back as well as he can, but upon feeling his lips curve against the top of your head, you can easily tell he’s on the verge of laughing. though, it doesn’t make him take your thoughts any less seriously: “is there anything i can do to help you feel better?”

you’re ready to reject the offer — he had been quick to dismiss the previous events after all, clarifying that he already was with someone so he really isn’t at fault — yet you remain quiet, like you’re thinking.

in the end, you opt to wrap your arms around his torso, legs tangling even more chaotically with his. tilting your neck a bit, you allow yourself to rest into the crook of his neck, and the sigh you let out finally makes him laugh. in response, you soon find yourself held impossibly closer as his hands meet at your lower back. there’s a nod, a pair of lips feathering your forehead accompanied by a soft hum, “okay, let’s stay like this then.”

kaji ren

everyone and their mother knows about furin, so it comes rather naturally that they’d know kaji as well. lovely. great. you mean it whenever you think that too! it’s something you often take pride in.

although it can be an issue at times too.

when you exit the school building, you immediately notice the little crowd that’s gathered by the end of its grounds, right next to the gate. albeit somewhat curious on what’s going on, you’re more interested in going home, hence thinking you wouldn’t spare the minor fuss more than a glance or two—until you find out what’s actually going on.

there he stands, just a few meters away from fellow classmates and other students you don’t really know; without a single care for the surroundings, or maybe even awareness, kaji is leaning back against the brick wall, occupied by whatever social media he’s browsing, headphones on. due to his lack of response in curious whispers, gasps of awe and giddy giggles, you quickly assume that the sound of them all is muted behind his music. not that it helps the icky feeling growing inside you.

sure, you like to think you know where the reactions are coming from, and you’re humble enough to not assume each one of them know who you are — although some definitely do — but it’s gnawing on you, that little sense of jealousy you frankly don’t want to admit.

you really do not want to admit it. yet it’s undoubtedly the cause of you just slightly picking up your pace the moment some of the students move to approach him; by the time kaji’s attention is finally torn apart, you’re already ahead of them, safe to say giving him a startle as you soon nearly crash into him.

“i told you, you don’t have to pick me up every time,” you sigh, pulling him closer by the arm you squeeze close to yourself. do you mean it? yes. are you also trying to prove a point? yes? no? maybe so. nonetheless, you repeat the reminder once he tugs the headphones down to his neck, pausing his playlist.

kaji blinks at you a few times and if you didn’t know better, you could almost believe he’s the human embodiment of disinterest. his eyes dart aside though, noting the crowd that’s yet to leave—for better or for worse, you realize the pieces fall into place as soon as he lets out a deep breath.

“whatever,” he mutters and frees his arms from your hold, yet showing no hesitation when he securely grabs your hand in his own. “let’s go, coffee shop’s not waiting for your jealousy.”

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker imagines #sakura haruka #suo hayato #kaji ren #wind breaker reactions #t:rh

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girl-celestial · 3 days ago

Text

The Governess

PART I OF III

ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER, eventual smut. 2k+ words. mdni

The Braithwaites hired a quiet little governess. Arthur wasn’t meant to notice her, but he did. Now every trip to the manor pulls him in deeper, past duty and reason, toward something he knows he can’t have.

THE horse’s hooves thudded low and heavy against the damp dirt path, muffled by Spanish moss and morning mist. Arthur adjusted his hat against the sun rising lazy over the swamplands, the air thick with the smell of wet earth and something sweeter—magnolia, maybe. Or rot. It was the kind of smell that lingered.

The Braithwaite place loomed in the distance, its white columns catching the light. Grand, in the way old money always was—too proud to die, too mean to fade. Arthur had been sent to talk, or threaten, or flatter. Dutch hadn’t exactly said which. And maybe it didn’t matter. Talking down here was always just a slower way of aiming a gun.

He rolled a cigarette with one hand as he rode, eyes scanning the tree line, senses prickling despite the stillness. Gang business, sure, but down here, everything felt like it could turn to blood real quick. He was only meant to ride in, say what Dutch needed said, and get out before the swamp air stuck to his lungs. Arthur had never liked the Braithwaite place—too quiet, too proud, too wrapped up in old money and the ghosts it bred.

But as his horse clopped down the gravel path toward the manor, something off to the side pulled his attention.

You.

You weren’t dressed like them—none of the silk or shine the Braithwaite women liked to hide behind. Just a soft-colored dress, worn at the edges, clinging a little from the morning damp. Your hair wasn’t fussed over either, half-pinned and tugged loose by the breeze. But somehow, that made you stand out more. You were real. You breathed like the rest of the world.

You were with the children, standing apart from them but watching with a distant kind of care. Not a mother, not a servant. Something in between. There was something calm in your posture, practiced, like you'd learned long ago how to go unnoticed. Arthur didn’t know who you were, but he could already tell you didn’t belong here any more than he did.

A strange kind of curiosity flickered in his chest. Not the usual kind he had for a stranger. This was quieter. Like something about you was already pulling on a part of him he didn’t let many people touch.

You looked up and saw him.

Your heart gave the smallest flutter when your eyes met his. You hadn’t even realized someone was approaching, not until the shift in the wind seemed to announce him. He didn’t look like a man from the manor either—worn coat, rough hands, that slow, steady weight in his gaze. You didn’t know who he was, but the way he looked at you made the world go quiet for just a second.

He tipped his hat, and for reasons you couldn’t explain, you smiled.

Not wide—just a small, careful curve of your lips. A little polite. A little uncertain. A little curious. You didn’t smile much around here. Certainly not to strangers. But something about him didn’t feel dangerous. Or maybe it did, but not to you.

And then he rode on.

You turned back to the children, but your thoughts didn’t quite follow. Not right away.

—

Arthur didn’t care for the way the man spoke—all slow words and sugar-coating around threats. It was the kind of voice that made you feel like something was crawling up your spine. The Braithwaites were always dressed in civility, but you didn’t have to dig far to find the rot. Moonshine was the word that kept coming up—moving it, protecting it, selling it where it didn’t belong. Dutch wanted in. The Braithwaites wanted leverage. Arthur wanted out of the house.

And maybe—though he wouldn’t say it aloud—he wanted to see you again.

The meeting dragged on. Arthur didn’t sit. He barely spoke. Just listened and nodded where needed, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like he was counting exits. Eventually, the cousin poured himself another drink and waved toward the hallway. “We’ll send word when we’ve decided. I’m sure Dutch is used to waiting.”

Arthur tipped his hat without smiling. “He ain’t.”

As he stepped out into the hallway, the air shifted.

He heard your voice before he saw you—soft, low, just outside the parlor door. Not sweet in that practiced way rich women spoke, but steady. Real. Like you didn’t have to try to be kind.

Then you stepped into view, half-bent as you guided one of the children forward by the shoulder, murmuring something about wiping their face before they bothered Miss Catherine. You looked up, and there he was—standing in the hallway like he'd been waiting for something, even if he didn’t know what.

Your breath caught.

His presence filled the space in that quiet, undeniable way. He didn’t speak right away—just met your eyes and gave you a look that felt different this time. Like he recognized you now. Like he saw something in you that went deeper than before.

And you felt it too.

You’d only caught a glimpse of him before, just long enough to wonder. But now, standing this close, you saw the rough hands, the tired eyes, the way his gaze softened for a fraction of a second when it settled on you.

"Ma'am," he said, quiet.

You swallowed. "You're not one of them."

It slipped out before you meant it to. And for a second, you were sure you’d overstepped—that he'd frown or walk away or remind you where you stood in this house.

But Arthur just huffed a breath through his nose—something like a laugh. He looked past you for a second, then back again, meeting your eyes in that steady way that had already stayed with you longer than it should have.

"Neither are you."

The words hit softer than you expected—not an accusation, not a question. Just fact.

Your breath caught again, held for a moment you didn’t know how to name. He saw it in you. That edge, that loneliness. The way you lived here without ever quite being part of it.

“No,” you said. “I’m not.”

Your voice was calm, but there was something under it—a quiet confession neither of you needed to name.

Arthur looked past you for a beat, then back again. "Didn't think so. You don’t wear the place like they do."

You gave a small smile. “Meaning what?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You ain’t dressed up in diamonds and spite.”

That pulled a quiet laugh out of you. The first real one in days. "Well. I do my best."

His mouth curved just slightly, like he was letting himself enjoy the sound. You hesitated, glancing down the hall where the children had gone. You should’ve followed. But you stayed.

“You here for something bad?” you asked, voice soft but steady.

Arthur met your eyes, and for a second he didn’t answer. Then, honest as it came: “Maybe. Ain’t sure yet.”

You nodded like you understood. Even if you didn’t.

“I should go,” you said, though neither of you moved.

He nodded once. “I won’t keep you.”

But you lingered. Just a second longer.

“You got a name?” you asked, before turning.

“Arthur.”

You gave a quiet nod, tucking his name somewhere inside you like it meant something already.

And then, because it felt like you had to say it—or maybe because it felt too easy not to—you said, “Don’t let this place ruin you.”

Arthur’s brows lifted a little, but he didn’t laugh this time. “I’ll try not to.”

You walked away first.

He watched until you were gone.

—

Over the next few days, Arthur rode in and out of Braithwaite Manor more often than he needed to.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Dutch’s dealings with the family were dragging out—more talk of moonshine, hidden routes, old favors nobody wanted to say out loud. Arthur wasn’t one for drawn-out conversations, but he kept showing up. Said it was business. Said it was about keeping things smooth.

But the truth was quieter, simpler.

He kept coming back because of you.

It didn’t start as anything. Just a glance. A look exchanged in a quiet hallway. A conversation that stuck longer than it should have. But after that, you were the first thing he looked for every time his boots hit the front steps.

He didn’t talk to you every time. Sometimes all he got was a glance. Sometimes nothing. But he watched for you all the same.

And when he saw you—just a flicker of a dress, or a whisper of your voice in the corridor—he stayed longer than he had to.

He told himself he was being careful. That the Braithwaites were snakes and he needed to know the lay of the land.

But deep down, he knew better.

You were the reason.

The sky had slipped into the soft blues and purples of evening, the air cooling but still thick with the day’s heat. Lanterns glowed at the corners of the manor, flickering gently like the house was holding its breath.

You stepped out alone, book in hand, your shoes quiet against the stone. The children were tucked in, the halls momentarily still. You hadn’t expected to see anyone.

But he was there.

Arthur Morgan, leaning just beside the steps near the carriage rail, his coat dusted from the road, hat low over his brow. The porch light lit the edges of him, sharp cheekbones catching the gold. He looked more like something pulled from a story than a man standing on your side of the house.

You stopped, before you even thought about it.

“You keep showin’ up,” you said, tone lighter than your chest felt.

Arthur lifted his gaze, slow and deliberate. “Maybe I like the company.”

You tilted your head, skeptical but not unfriendly. “Pretty bold thing to say to someone who hasn’t even told you her name.”

That smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—crooked, faint, but real.

“Don’t need a name to know you’re the only person around here worth lookin’ at.”

Your breath hitched. It was too honest, too unguarded, and it rattled something deep in your ribs. You opened your mouth—to scold, maybe, or smile, or walk away—but then he stepped forward.

He didn’t crowd you. But he reached out, and before you could react, his hand wrapped gently around your arm. He tugged—not hard, just enough to draw you closer. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the tension in the air.

He didn’t touch beyond that. Didn’t need to.

“I see you, you know,” he murmured. “You act like you’re just part of the house, like you’re meant to blend in. But you don’t. You walk different. Hold yourself different. And none of them even notice.”

You froze, breath catching in your throat. His eyes lingered on you—steady, focused. His voice was low enough to feel more than hear.

“You work too hard,” he added, softer. “Bet no one tells you that.”

Your heart pounded. You should’ve pulled away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your eyes flicked up to his, and your voice came out quieter than you expected. “You don’t talk like the others.”

Arthur smiled again, but slower this time, like he wasn’t used to hearing that. “That a good thing?”

You were just about to answer—something dry, something teasing—when the voice came from behind.

“Miss.”

Your entire body tensed.

Arthur’s hand dropped at once, but it didn’t matter. The moment was already over.

Mr. Braithwaite stood a few steps behind, posture iron-straight, his face unreadable in the dark—except for his eyes, which burned cold.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.

“Inside,” he muttered. “Before you ruin what little place you’ve made for yourself here.”

You froze, shame flashing hot across your skin—not because you believed him, but because Arthur was still standing there, hearing every word. And because it was said like a warning, not just to you, but about you.

Arthur didn’t speak. His face was still, but his gaze hadn’t moved from yours.

“She wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong,” he said eventually, voice low.

Braithwaite’s tone didn’t change. “She was doing enough.”

You turned before he could say more, before Arthur could, too. You didn’t want to give either of them the chance to see what you were feeling.

But inside the house, up the steps, and behind your closed door—that place you were so close to ruining—you still felt the ghost of his fingers against your skin.

And for the first time in a long while, you wondered if losing your place might be worth it.

#my writing #eventual smut #writing #arthur morgan fanfiction #fanfic #rdr2 smut #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x fem reader #historical #fiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fic #fic

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yourlocaljonghoe · 3 days ago

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The Space Between Us. || Jeong Yunho. [ Teaser ]

Summary: when yunho was tasked by his professor to keep an eye on you, he'd never thought it would change his entire world. you were the quiet, weird girl, the one people only referred to as "the ghost". he was the exact opposite of you. and yet, yunho felt drawn to you like a moth to a flame. but would you ever let him get close to you?

Pairing: jeong yunho x reader

Genre: college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Wordcount: final work maybe about 10k?

Warnings: none for the teaser

A/N: guess whose lazy ass is back on tumblr😎 its me... sorry for disappearing again and only coming back with a teaser😔🥲 anyways, if you like this i would really appreciate a comment to help boost my motivation to finish this, love you all and stay safe <33 divider belongs to @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @ghstzzn, @kyukyustar, @hwapetals, @foxinnie8, @preciouswoozi, @aussiekpopginger, @kitten4sannie, @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf @therealcuppicake

College wasn’t exactly what Yunho expected when he first got here. He honestly thought it would be louder - more parties, more chaos, more sex and lust and all that shit you see in movies. And sure, there was some of that, especially with friends like San dragging him into the occasional frat party or Mingi insisting on midnight karaoke sessions in their shared kitchen with girls he knew he wouldn't ever see again. But in between all that noise, his college days mostly consisted of… nothing. Just classes, classes, even more classes, and studying his ass off for exams.

He liked the quiet more than he let on. Not that he minded being social - he was good at it, naturally drawn to people, and the people were naturally drawn to him. But sometimes, there was something more fascinating in the silences than in all the talking.

Psychology became his favorite class for exactly that reason. It gave him an excuse to watch people. Not in a creepy way - just to study them, understand them without them talking to him directly. He was good at reading body language, at picking up on shifts in tone or flickers of emotion people tried to hide from the world. It made him feel powerful, like he could get inside someone’s world without needing a key.

He never expected to be asked to do exactly that, though.

When Professor Nam stopped him after class, Yunho thought it was to remind him of the midterm. Yet to his surprise, the older man had leaned back against his desk, arms folded, eyes serious beneath his ridiculously thick glasses. Not that Yunho had ever seen his professor be anything but serious - he taught a very serious subject after all - but he quickly understood that this was something different.

“There’s a student I’m a little concerned about,” he’d said.

And that’s when it all started. With a name Yunho didn’t recognize, and a simple request that didn’t feel all that simple at all. Yunho hadn’t expected to be assigned a mission like this when he walked into his class that day. It was a Wednesday - or was it? - a normal day, so normal he in fact didn’t even know the date.

“Just… keep an eye on her for me, will ya?” Professor Nam had said with a slight smile. “She's brilliant, but I worry. Never says a word in class, never socializes with anyone. I just want to make sure she's okay.”

He’d agreed, of course. How could he not? He liked helping people. He liked knowing people, too. Especially that. That’s why he was surprised he hadn’t even realized you were in the same class as him, and that he'd never once even seen your face.

But there you were. First row, always the same seat, with your back perfectly straight, and your eyes always straight forward.

Yunho noticed the little things first.

You flinched when someone spoke too loud near you. Your whole body tensed every time someone sat too close. You left exactly two minutes before class ended, quietly packing and vanishing while the professor was still mid-sentence. No one could ever catch you in the hallway. No one even knew where you sat in the cafeteria - if you even ate there.

For the first few days, Yunho thought you were just borderline shy and awkward. But no, it wasn’t that. It was avoidance. You were avoiding everyone and everything and, well, it was clearly working.

He didn’t approach you right away. Even though he barely knew you, he had a feeling you would definitely not like that. So, he started sitting nearby instead. Not next to you - never that. Just close enough to observe.

Seonghwa, Mingi and San questioned him on his new seat choice, but he just brushed them off. They didn't bother asking more questions, and he didn't bother explaining things to them.

And then one morning, you weren’t there before him.

Instead, you entered the lecture hall three minutes late - yes, he looked at his watch for that. Your hair was damp from the rain. Your breath quick, like you’d been running. You looked at your usual seat - someone else had taken it, and from the way your eyebrows scrunched Yunho knew you were not pleased with that - and then at the surrounding ones.

Yunho watched your eyes flicker. Panic took over your features, but you quickly pushed that emotion aside.

He shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat.

You turned. Your eyes met for the first time ever.

He nodded once and moved his bag.

It was an invitation. He hoped you would take it.

You hesitated, let your eyes wander through the whole room. Then sighed and finally walked over.

You sat down without a word, without even sparing him a glance.

Yet still, Yunho smiled to himself.

Step one: done. He didn't care that you didn't even say thank you. In fact, Yunho didn’t expect you to. He didn’t expect anything at all, really. And so he didn't take it to heart when you didn’t even acknowledge him further.

But as the lecture went on, he noticed even more details about you; how you kept your arms extremely close to your body, or how you took notes in tiny, almost imperceptible handwriting, as if trying not to take up space even on the page.

In the background, Professor Nam asked some questions, something about behavioral psychology, but Yunho’s focus had shifted completely. At his usual spot three rows back he usually had the luxury of zoning out whenever he wanted. But here, next to you, he was wide awake and paying attention - well, not at the subject currently being taught, but that's whatever.

You didn’t glance at him once. Not when he shifted to cross his legs. Not when he reached into his bag. Not even when someone in the back dropped their water bottle and the entire room jolted from the noise.

But your fingers twitched, and he saw how the noise frightened you.

He remembered what the professor said.

“I just want to make sure she's okay.”

And right now, sitting next to you, Yunho realized that he definitely didn't have an answer to that.

Class ended, and before he could even blink away the sleep trying to tire him down, you had already moved. Still no glance towards anyone, and definitely not a single word spoken. Your pen was capped, notebook shut, and bag over your shoulder before the professor could even wrap up the last sentence.

But this time, Yunho was ready.

He grabbed his things - almost tripped over his own feet in the process, but let's ignore that - and followed you suit.

Not too close - he didn’t want to scare you. Just enough to keep you in view. He was tall, so his steps were long and he didn't need to hurry. He even slowed them and let you lead.

You turned sharply, slipping through the side exit that hardly anyone used. Down the narrow hallway behind the auditorium, through a quiet back stairwell that was so dirty Yunho swore he could practically taste the dirt in the air. He realized something then: you knew how to disappear.

But you didn’t look back.

You either hadn’t noticed him… or you had, and didn’t care.

At the bottom of the stairs, you pushed open the door into the courtyard. It was still raining, though only slightly. You tugged your hair that usually covered most of your face into your hood and began to run into the rain.

And still, he followed.

Yunho was starting to feel weird about it. This definitely wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to talk to you, to try and befriend you, not… track you through campus like some creepy stalker.

So he picked up the pace.

“Hey!” he called out.

You stopped.

Slowly, you turned your head. Hood still up, eyes barely visible beneath the shadow. You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights.

He jogged the rest of the way to close the distance, pausing a few steps in front of you, hands in his pockets to seem non-threatening.

“Uh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, and scratched the back of his neck. “Just noticed you were late today. That’s not like you.”

You stared at him.

He waited.

One second.

Two seconds.

… Three seconds.

Still nothing.

“…I’m Yunho. Jeong Yunho. We’ve had a bunch of classes together.”

Nothing. No reply. He didn't even see you blink once which was honestly a little creepy.

God, this was harder than he thought.

“…You okay?”

There. That word again. Okay. Were you okay?

You blinked. Then slowly, your lips parted, closed, then parted again.

And a quiet voice - so quiet he barely heard it - said:

“Why do you care?”

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goodlucktai · 3 days ago

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hold the world to its best (6/?)

rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: raph & OC title borrowed from light by sleeping at last part of the archer au

(prev) (next)

The storm rolls in later than the forecast called for, starting in earnest the next afternoon.

The first crack of thunder is so loud, even underground, that it makes everyone jump and Mikey almost fumbles the huge mixing bowl of eggs he’s whisking. It even startles SHELLDON awake from the nap he was taking in the charging dock in the corner. The string of beeps he lets out must be something pretty foul in binary, because Donnie whips around as quick as a snake.

“Watch your language in front of the impressionable youth!” he yells after his kid, who makes a quick escape down the hall.

Raph’s about to step into the line of fire for his robot nephew’s sake and point out the obvious—that none of them have half an idea what SHELLDON said, let alone the four-year-old among them—but Leo beats him to the punch.

“Uhhhhh speaking of the impressionable youth,” the slider says, “where’s George?”

“He’s right—oh,” Mikey stops short. His tiny spotted helper has vanished from where he had been parked on the stool pushed up to the counter.

Mikey puts his bowl down and joins Leo in looking around, a frown tugging at his mouth. While he’s distracted, Leo swipes a chunk of bell pepper from his cutting board, which may or may not have been his endgame all along.

“That’s so weird, he was here two seconds ago,” Mikey says.

Raph pushes back from the table and gets up to check the living room. A Jupiter Jim movie is playing on the projector, and Gio has revealed himself to be as much of a fan as the rest of his siblings are, but there are no little turtles sitting transfixed in front of the screen.

“Not in here,” he reports back.

“Stay calm, people, we have protocols in place for this,” Donnie says, tapping his bracer until it projects a holographic screen of color-coded GPS location pins.

“Donald, you did not microchip that baby,” Mikey intones ominously.

“Of course I didn’t. That would be unethical,” Donnie replies. He even rolls his eyes, because he has no sense of danger. “I implanted the chip in his nineteen-year-old self two days after he first moved in, like a reasonable person.”

Raph pinches the bridge of his beak and reminds himself to revisit this conversation later. For the hundredth time in their lives.

“Can you find the kid or not, Dee?”

“Please, name literally one time my Genius Built methods have ever failed us in any capacity. Of course I can find him,” Donnie scoffs, only to frown at the big error symbol that pops up on the holoscreen a second later. “Ah. Update, due to certain magical interference, the tracker currently does not exist. I can’t find him.”

“Great contribution, Tello,” Leo says, sounding like he’s fighting for his life to keep a straight face. “Maybe now we can just look for him with our eyes.”

Another rumble of thunder bullies into the conversation. The new lair is a repurposed subway station, closer to the surface than the old one had been, and this is the first time it’s stormed this hard since they moved in, so none of them were prepared for the magnitude of the sound. It reverberates through the tunnels and pipes, amplified by the metal and cement and hollow spaces.

“He probably went after SHELLDON,” Raph reasons. “I’ll go find him. You two bozos stay put and help Mike finish making lunch.”

“Are you punishing them or me?” Mikey demands. Behind him Leo steals a cherry tomato off the cutting board, because he also has no sense of danger. Raph gets while the getting is good.

Gio isn’t in the lab, where SHELLDON is buzzing around singing Speed Drive by Charli xcx to himself, or the bathroom.

Anxiety begins to stir in the back of his heart, where it’s lived for as long as he can remember. It sleeps some of the time, but not as much as it used to.

The steps leading up to the front door have been baby-gated to lengths of absurdity, part of Donnie’s manic lair-wide Georgie-proofing—so the odds of Gio making it past the stairs and into the dark maze-like tunnels in the handful of seconds someone wasn’t actively watching him are slim to none.

It doesn’t stop Raph from worrying. He doesn’t want to shout Gio’s name, because he doesn’t want to do anything on purpose that would make that little boy’s eyes get big and fearful, but he can feel his steps getting more frantic with every room that he checks that comes up empty.

The door to Gio’s room is ajar—it’s rarely ever closed—and Raph pokes his head in without expecting much. Baby Gio got an eyeful of it on the whirlwind tour Mikey took him on but didn’t seem particularly interested in exploring the space.

It’s a comfortable room. Cozy, even, which is a style that a total stranger might be surprised to find out that Gio subscribes to, but absolutely no one who knows him needed longer than one second to conceptualize before they realized it made perfect sense.

There are string lights draped across the ceiling, and a huge felt board that takes up half the length and height of the back wall, where photos and drawings and little mementos are pinned. A downy polka-dotted duvet swallows up the bed, and the curtains strung across the front-facing window, to block some of the light that beams in from the living areas, are polka-dotted for good measure—because if there’s one thing this family loves, it’s leaning into a bit.

And it would be tidy if not for Gio’s little siblings leaving evidence behind of their constant comings and goings. Donnie’s Switch and wireless headphones have been tossed on the bed, and Leo’s guitar is balanced crookedly on the chair by the desk, and the desk itself is covered in the half-inked pages of a graphic novel Mikey is brainstorming. Even one of April’s college textbooks has ended up in here.

Growing up, Raph never understood why all three little gremlins wanted to be in his room all the time—sprawled on his floor bickering over snacks, or cramming into his bed to make him watch two hour long video essays about any obscure topic under the sun—and then Raph got a big brother, and it all clicked. The huge pink beanbag that used to live in Raph’s room gravitated to the corner of Gio’s, where it ended up staying as a permanent fixture. Half the time Raph just lets himself in and flops into his designated seat, in the exact same way that Donnie and Mikey and Leo consistently get on his last nerve for doing.

Gio, who thinks everything his siblings do is silly or charming or both, complains about it a lot less than Raph does.

“Georgie?” he says, just in case there are any turtle toddlers lurking.

Of course no one answers, and he’s turning to leave and find another place to look, when he hears two separate sounds. A vicious growling bark of thunder that echoes down the tunnel, and a muffled whimper from much closer.

Raph stops dead in his tracks. Now he’s listening for that second sound again specifically, straining to hear it, all his ninja senses and supersoldier senses and—most of all—biggest brother senses on high alert.

He hears it, and follows it down onto his hands and knees to peer under the bed at where a tiny spotted turtle is hiding.

Gio’s face is streaked with tears and he’s shuddering from head to toe, hands clamped over his ears, limbs all curled up like every frightened instinct in his body is urging him to go inside his shell.

Feeling his heart break clean down the middle, Raph trips over himself to soothe, “Hey, hey, kiddo, it’s okay! Gio, what—”

Thunder rolls, and Gio flinches and makes another quiet sound of fear, and Raph realizes immediately what the situation is. He is also about two seconds from bodily lifting the bedframe and flinging it out of the way to better scoop Giorgio up. He has always, historically, hated any potential barrier between himself and his siblings with a single-minded fervor. He can’t even function when someone he loves is crying and he can’t reach them.

He reigns in the impulse to charge forward. It takes both hands and considerable willpower.

Running in recklessly always worked out when he was a child, because stakes were low and his brothers would follow him anywhere even if they fully believed his plan would fall apart as early as step one.

But as he got older, and had to force the leadership reins into Leo’s unwilling hands, and that charming and reliable guy who was forever on Raph’s right hand side with a clever idea or an exit strategy suddenly became someone willing to let them all fail just to prove a point, Raphael learned the value of thinking things through.

And he can’t just throw the bed out of the way, he reminds himself with gritted teeth, because that would scare the baby.

So instead he settles on his plastron right there on the floor, cheek pressed to the rug, and starts to rumble deep and low in his chest. April calls it his car engine sound, and Donnie has correlated it with the healing frequency of a cat’s purr more than once. Guaranteed to comfort frightened little turtles or your money back.

Sure enough, after a moment, Gio’s eyes peek open. He’s crying so hard he’s hiccupping, but other than that he’s barely made a peep. Until he manages to focus on Raph’s face, and then his sobs have a little voice behind them.

“Hey, big man,” Raph soothes. “Raphie’s right here. Nothing bad is gonna happen while Raphie’s right here.”

Gio doesn’t budge from where he’s wedged against the wall but he’s listening. He’s such a good kid, always listening. His limbs are curled so tight they must hurt, it would probably feel better for him to just pull inside his shell at this point, but for whatever reason he stays in a miserable little ball.

“That storm is pretty loud, huh? Raph doesn’t like it either.” He reaches an arm under the bed, offering a hand. “But you know something? The best thing about being part of such a big family is that we keep each other safe. Even when it gets loud and scary and makes you wanna hide, you’ve got all of us here on your team.” Then, with a silly frown, he adds, “I’ll go wrestle that storm right out of the sky and make it say sorry for being such a bully and making my Georgie cry. How ‘bout that?”

Thunder rumbles again, and Gio jumps and shivers at the sound, but when he starts to squirm it’s forward, towards Raph’s open hand. He holds it with both of his much smaller ones, tears dripping from his chin, grip white-knuckled.

Mouth wobbling, he bravely shakes his head.

“No?” Raph says, playful and gentle in equal parts. “Okay, I’ll stay in here with you instead. Do you think I could fit under there? Scooch over a bit.”

Something that might one day grow up into a smile touches just the corners of Gio’s mouth. He shakes his head again.

“Raphie’s too big,” he whispers. Raph scoffs in fake-offense and the almost smile on Gio’s face inches closer to the real thing. “We can go under the table,” he adds very earnestly.

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Raph says, down for literally anything that will make his babyfied older brother stop crying. “Come on over here, spots. We’ll go together.”

Some jangling, dislocated thing in Raph’s heart only settles when he’s got Gio in his arms, tiny, insubstantial thing that he is. He sits on the floor for an extra minute, rumbling extra loud, until Gio’s pulse slows its frantic leaping into something closer to its normal resting rate. The next time the storm tries to speak up where it isn’t wanted, Gio’s tucked safely under Raph’s chin absorbing his car engine sound and only shivers.

Red catches Raph’s eye, a familiar hoodie hanging from the handle of the closet door. He’d given it to Gio months ago, when a cooking incident led to Gio’s jacket getting tossed into the wash, and Raph had said, “Here, you can borrow one of mine.”

He’d fished the old hoodie out of a basket of clean laundry and passed it over. It wasn’t anything to write home about, weathered and faded over the years, the hem stretched out and a corner of the hoodie pocket peeling away thanks to a loose string.

But Gio looked stunned when he saw it. He took it from Raph’s hands robotically and pulled it over his head with a mumbled thank you. It was laughably big on Raph’s big brother, who would probably only have a few inches on the twins for a few more years.

Raph grinned and helped Gio roll up the sleeves, saying, “All my siblings steal this one from me constantly. Right of passage. Look, see? Perfect fit!”

“Yeah,” Gio said hoarsely, thumbing carefully at the frayed hem as if it was spun with gold. “Perfect fit.”

Since he seemed to like it so much, Raph let it keep mysteriously ending up in his room. And Raph reaches over for it now, tucking it in with his armful of Georgie as a makeshift toddler blanket before he finally pushes to his feet.

“Sorry,” Gio says very quietly as they make their way back toward the light and laughter pouring out of the kitchen. “For hiding.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Raph says, startled. “Georgie, you got scared, that’s not your fault. Of course you hid, that’s what any smart little turtle would do. Mikey hides when the toaster pops too loud. And I get scared all the time.”

Gio clearly doesn’t believe him, frowning deeply. That stubborn face is one-hundred-percent their Gio.

“Raph’s too big and strong to be scared,” the spotted turtle retorts, as close as he’s likely to ever come to a more age-appropriate “nuh-uh!”

“Hah,” Raph says, “I wish that was true.” He looks down at Gio and tells him, “The thing that always makes me feel brave is remembering that I have all of you guys with me. I have a thing I say that helps. Maybe you can try it next time you get scared. Just say I’m not alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Gio repeats obediently.

One day, Raph thinks, it’ll stick.

Until then, they’ll keep reminding him. They’ll drag him out of the dark a hundred thousand times and lead him to a warmer, well-lit place, where his siblings will trip over themselves to put a smile on his face, even if that means eating frittatas on the floor under the kitchen table.

Leo keeps stealing food from Mikey’s plate until finally Mikey snaps and goes in for the kill, and Donnie shrieks when they kick over the pitcher of lemonade because now he’s sticky and someone will be paying for it, and Splinter comes in to investigate the noise and takes in the scene playing out under the table and says, “Why are you like this? Who raised you?”

The rest of the storm passes the way storms always do. The next time thunder rumbles through the lair, Gio is too busy giggling to hear it.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #the archer au #hamato raphael #hamato giorgio #my writing #tmnt fic #i was fighting for my life with this one and unfortunately it shows #but rem wanted gio hiding under the bed and by god i was gonna make it happen

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kurogane2512 · 1 day ago

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Man, i just finished the main story and all i can say is CANTARELLAAAAAAAAA 😭😭💞💞💞 she's actually surprisingly chill the entire time she's onscreen and i love that she's so affectionate around girls like!! wow!!! calling them "my dear"!! all those time she'd cup their chins!!!! my heart can't take it!!!!

Although, mine did break while doing her companion quest like........pls.......i know you're strong......i know you're resilient..........but you don't have to hide your pain and bear responsibilities alone..........at least not while you're around rover...........

I invited her to go on a boatride and all her voicelines are so aaaaa 💞💞 so what about f!rover taking her out on a boatride date and maybe bringing her to a picnic spot afterward?? Up to you if you wanna bring some smut in but i just want to spoil her, man.....

THE URGE TO SPOIL HER IS SO REAL LITERALLY NSIDJFHWEI She's so mother all the time but she deserves that love and care in return 😭😭

Game: Wuthering Waves

Characters: Cantarella x fem!reader (Rover)

Type: SFW, Fluff (slightly suggestive in some parts)

The afternoon sun cast a soft glow over Thessaleo Fells, but there was a chill in the air that didn’t quite match the warmth of the light. The tall grass swayed in a gentle breeze, and the path stretched out ahead, winding its way toward the distant silhouette of Porto Veno Castle. The land was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves, wanderings of Tacet Discords and the occasional call of birds in the distance.

The scent of flowers mixed with the salty tang of the sea as you walked, each step drawing you closer to the castle. Its commanding yet eerie silhouette seemed to watch from afar, standing steady against the fading light, as if waiting for your arrival. The world around you felt peaceful, yet there was an unspoken sense of anticipation in the air, like something was just about to begin.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Cantarella." you spoke once you reached the boundary of the castle grounds and spotted Cantarella standing near under her parasol.

She turned to face you with a gentle smile on her face, her lavender hair swaying through the breeze.

"Not at all. You are right on time as scheduled, Y/n."

You smiled in return then walked closer to her, extending your hand.

"Shall we?"

She softly grasped it with her own, interlacing your fingers together as a smirk drew up her face.

"Well, may I know what arrangements you have made? I cleared my schedule for the day as you asked, but I haven't prepared for anything else."

"Uh, well...." you scratched your cheek shyly, "....I wanted to take you out somewhere. You said you wanted to sightsee around Ragunna, right?"

Your words surprised her for a moment, her eyes widening just so slightly before softening them.

"I see.... very thoughtful of you, dear. I have indeed been going out more frequently now since a major responsibility was lifted from my shoulders- by none other than you~"

She smirked then stepped closer to you, leaning near your face.

"So, where are you taking me for this date?~"

The emphasis on 'date' made you shiver briefly. Of course, you thought about it being like that, but didn't want to name it.

"A-Ahem, well, Gondola rides are quite the tourist attraction here. How about we go around in that?"

"Oh, a little voyage on the sea? Hehe, if you wish. Gondolas are such private escapes. Any commotion fades into the water~" she hummed with a chuckle, "In that case, we can take the Gondolas parked here at the castle and start our journey now itself. Unless, you have made other arrangements, of course."

"No, it's fine. I thought to take one at the city, but this is better."

She smiled and lightly tugged your hand, beckoning you to follow her.

"Wonderful, let us leave at once."

You sensed some eagerness from her which made you slightly relieved and confident about the plan. You then followed her to the waterside outside the castle where 2 gondolas were parked. You boarded one first then offered your hand to help her board, which she accepted by keeping one hand on yours and holding up her dress with the other, gracefully stepping onto the gondola. You sat down on the respective seats, facing each other.

"So, what's our first stop?~" she asked with a playful smile, resting back on the seat and elegantly draping one leg over the other.

"Hmm, shall we go to Whisperwind Haven through Nimbus Sanctum? The surroundings are quite good in them, and we can sit down at Whisperwind Haven later to take a break. Or, we could also go to the city through Egla Town. Any option is fine with me."

"Hm~ You seem to have thought about this quite a bit, I'm impressed~"

Your cheeks reddened a little, "Of course I have, I wouldn't invite you without a plan...."

Cantarella softly chuckled, "Indeed, I know how you are, dear. I'm pleased. Well then, I find the former option better. However, we will have to make a stop at Egla Town to change the gondola. This one cannot go beyond that."

"Sure, that's okay."

You patted the gondola echo and it gave its acceptance then began moving towards the waterfall.

"Ah, the waterfall.... You should brace yourself, Cantarella. Or, hold on to me if you'd like."

Cantarella smirked, "Tempting offer that I'll have to reject since there isn't enough time to move to you. Don't worry, I can handle it~"

You nodded with a smile and braced yourself as the waterfall neared, then with a sudden thud the gondola jumped before descending down the waterfall and falling into the lake with a splash. You shook off the water from your body, running your hands through your wet hair when your gaze laid on Cantarella's drenched form and you became entranced- her wet clothes clung to her body giving a translucent view of her skin and her lavender hair shone brighter as she dried them off.

"My, this never fails to give an adrenaline rush, hehe~" she chuckled as she squeezed water out of her hair.

"Y-Yeah, it's thrilling....!" you averted your gaze with a blush, realizing you were staring at her.

Cantarella smirked and looked at the scenery around her, taking in the sights. A gentle breeze picked up as the gondola stirred across, her luscious hair swaying with the wind.

"Well, how have you been recently, Rover? Saving more lives, as usual?~"

You chuckled, "Not really, I have just been helping Cartethyia settle into her new life."

"Oh, is that so? So, you finally found some time to take out for me?~" she narrowed her eyes with a grin.

"N-No, it's not like that. I assumed you'd be busy with your family affairs...."

She chuckled, "Relax, I didn't mean to put you on the spot. Helping Cartethyia is more essential, indeed. We must also prepare for our next move to uncover the schemes brewing in the shadows."

"Yeah, I will soon get in touch with Carlotta about it."

"That will be apt. This time, I don't plan to take a backseat either, this must be resolved once and for all."

She gazed into the distance with a unwavering look, clearly determined to set things right.

"Don't worry, everything will turn out fine."

Cantarella turned to you with a smile, "With you here, I don't doubt that at all~"

You smiled back with a blush, "Without you all, I cannot do anything."

She softly laughed, "You are always so endearing, Y/n~"

Your face turned redder at her compliment, "H-Hey, it's the truth—!"

She hummed in defiance and looked away again, the smirk not leaving her face as she glanced at you from the side.

"Hm, seems we are approaching Egla Town soon." she noted.

The gondola stopped at the port of Egla Town after a few minutes and you both stepped out, taking a moment to gather yourself and look for the next gondola. Cantarella opened her parasol and walked around the port for a bit, gazing up at the hustle-bustle of the town with a smile.

"Cantarella, we can take the next one in 5 minutes." you came up to inform her and she nodded in understanding.

"Oh, is that.... big sister Cantarella and Rover?!" a familiar cheerful voice called out to you both and you turned around to face the person.

"Chloe.... it's been a while." Cantarella greeted the girl with a smile.

"How have you been? You haven't come to meet us at all." Chloe chimed with a pout.

"Ah, I have been busy with some things. You tell me, how is Jojo doing?" Cantarella replied.

"Oh, he's better than ever! His treatment went well."

As you conversed, you heard the gondola call out to you as it was time to depart.

"Oh, are you both out on a date?" Chloe asked with an excited look, catching you off-guard.

"N-No, we are just taking a stroll...." you replied bashfully, your face turning a little red.

Cantarella chuckled at your side, "Indeed, this is just a stroll. Don't go around jumping to conclusions this way~"

Chloe nodded with a pout then Cantarella continued, "Well, we will take our leave now. Take care of yourselves and Jojo, and don't hesitate to contact me in case you ever need help."

"Of course, big sister. You also take care of yourself. At least you have Rover to keep you company!"

You blushed again then were about to turn around to leave when Chloe tugged your arm, urging you to lean towards her. You watched Cantarella walk towards the gondola and went closer to Chloe who leaned to whisper in your ear, "Take care of her, big sister~"

Your face flushed at the provocative tone and choice of words, "L-Leave it to me...."

Chloe giggled, "Hehe, let me give you a little token of gratitude. Take this and share with her during your date!~"

She handed you a packet and you looked inside to find some fruits of various kinds.

"All freshly harvested, I'm sure she'll like them."

You smiled, "Thank you, I will. Goodbye."

"Bye-bye~"

Chloe waved at your departing figure. You kept the packet in your backpack before you reached the gondola, wanting to make it a surprise for Cantarella. She was already seated in the gondola by the time you reached, patiently waiting for you.

"What did she say to you?" she asked.

"Nothing much, just general welfare. Let's go now before it's late."

You patted the gondola and it began to move. She looked at you with suspicion but didn't question further.

"So, are we headed to Nimbus Sanctum next?" Cantarella asked.

"Mhm, the scenery should be good there around this time."

She nodded with a smile and calmly took in the views around her.

"Have you visited all places around Ragunna before?" you asked.

"Hmm, a few times. As a child, I mostly stayed confined in my house in order to study the ways of the Fisalia family, and then I was sent for the trials and eventually chosen as the next head. During my time as the head, I went to every place at least once for miscellaenous purposes. However, it's been a long time since I went anywhere other than the city as I spent the last few years travelling to foreign nations, and also refraining myself from public appearances due to the family's reputation."

"I see, I hope you enjoy this little 'stroll' then."

"Hehe, I already am. In fact, I'd enjoy doing absolutely nothing as long as it's with you, my dear~"

Your heart fluttered at her words and you simply nodded, feeling quite embarrassed. You soon approached Nimbus Sanctum as thick fog started clouding your vision, blanketing the entire region as far as the eyes could see. You approached closer to the center and the fog finally cleared up enough to see the surroudings, a serene sight occupying your vision now. Cantarella looked all around with wide eyes and took a deep breath to relish the atmosphere.

"A beautiful sight, made even more so in your company~" she commented.

She relaxed herself as she basked in nature's presence, a soothing melody flowing in her ear.

"Oh, is that.... Lorelei singing?"

"Mhm, it is. Have you heard her sing before?"

"Once.... a long time ago. Though, the melody from then is still fresh in my mind due to how divine it was."

The gondola moved closer to the atrium then stopped near the arch. You remained seated inside and listened to the pleasant music until Cantarella noticed something different.

"This song.... isn't the one from before. It's familiar...." she mumbled as she focused on the singing then became a little surprised, "This is.... Y/n, is this your doing?"

You nodded with a smile, "I asked Sebastian and Carmilla about your taste in music...."

Butterflies erupted in Cantarella's stomach at the revelation, the song currently enveloping her was her favorite and it was made all the more better by Lorelei's angelic voice. She became speechless for a moment then regained her composure and gave a sly smirk.

"Oh my, to make Lorelei sing to your choice.... for me?"

"I just wanted you to enjoy and relax...."

She softly chuckled, "When did you even get the chance to ask Sebastian and Carmilla about this?~"

"Well, I have my ways~" you said with a grin.

She chuckled more, "Thank you, I'm utterly grateful for this surprise~"

"No need for thanks, this really isn't much."

She smiled and tilted her head a little, "What matters isn't the action itself, but the thought and intention behind it, my dear~"

You smiled back with a light blush and basked in the music and nature together.

"Oh right, before I forget...." you took out the packet from your backpack, "Chloe gave me this to share with you. I figured this is a good time." you offered it to her.

"Oh, how sweet of her. They all look so fresh." she reached into the packet to grab some cherries.

"Mhm, she said it's freshly harvested."

Cantarella held up one cherry then stuck out her tongue to taste it, and a sudden shiver immediately went down your body looking at the alluring dispaly of her engraved tongue playing with it. She glanced at you staring at her and narrowed her eyes playfully then bit the cherry and pulled out the stem before seductively swallowing it.

"Mmm, delicious~" she commented before continuing to eat the rest.

Well, your best option was to look away for the rest of the duration.

After some time, the gondola started moving away towards the other end of Nimbus Sanctum.

"So, Whisperwind Haven next?" she asked.

"I thought to have lunch there, but are you hungry right now?"

"Oh, that's no trouble. We'll have to walk quite a bit to find a quiet place, I'm sure we'll build an appetite by then~"

"Alright, let's go then."

As expected, you indeed had to walk for some time after deboarding the gondola to find an empty, quiet place devoid of Tacet Discords and other disturbances. You almost reached the other end when you finally decided to sit under big tree. You laid out a blanket and asked her to sit while you took out several dishes from your backpack one by one.

"Huh, to think you were carrying everything in there all this time...." she noted with a chuckle.

"Abby gets hungry a lot so I made it a habit. But today, all this is for you."

"Oh, please, I cannot possibly finish everything on my own~"

You gave a soft laugh then settled down beside her, offering her some of everything.

"I see a lot of these dishes are my favorite.... Was this from Sebastian and Carmilla too?~"

"Mm, a little bit. I remembered what you said about preferring simple dishes due to your dormant tastebuds so I took some advice from them to make these."

"Wait, you made these yourself? Everything?" she asked wide-eyed.

You blushed, "Y-Yeah, it's not so difficult...."

Cantarella couldn't help but feel immense gratification, her hand automatically reaching out to gently cup your face.

"....Why are you doing this, Y/n?"

You looked at her in shock then softened your expression and cupped her held out hand with a smile.

"As I said earlier, I just want you to relax and enjoy."

"Is that all?" she probed with a tilt of her head.

The words were on the tip of your tongue but before you could reply, you heard some commotion nearby and quickly looked to the side, only to find a group of wild Tacet Discords approaching you both. You felt Cantarella's hand retract as she slowly stood up to face the approaching monsters, her parasol drawn out to as she prepared for battle.

"Please, give us some privacy, would you?~" she mocked with a smirk, preparing to unleash an attack but stopped as you stood up and pushed her parasol down.

"Let me handle it."

She was about to refute but couldn't get any words out as you already walked ahead, summoning your sword in hand. Her eyes widened looking at the sword- it was the sword she gifted to you, Bloodpact's Pledge, a sword that was passed down in Fisalia family for generations and symbolized an immortal bond. She smiled to herself and retreated as you asked, she knew there was nothing to worry about.

With a single sweep of concentrated energy, you decimated the monsters in a flash and the fight was over before it even began. You then turned back to face Cantarella who watched with a contented look and patted the place beside her, wanting you to sit. You nodded and sat down then were about to say something but were held back as she suddenly rested her head on your shoulder, cuddling into you. You blushed and tensed up, finding this action quite surprising.

"C-Cantarella?"

"Shh, just rest now~"

You composed yourself and eased your nerves, tilting your head to lightly lay on hers and closed your eyes. The leaves whispered softly overhead as sunlight filtered through in golden patches. The world was still— only the quiet murmur of the stream nearby and the flutter of petals in the breeze broke the silence. Birds sang faintly from distant branches, their songs laced with calm. You didn’t speak; there was no need. The warmth of her closeness, the hush of nature around you— this was enough. In this moment, everything was soft, serene, and exactly as it should be.

"For as long as I can remember...." she spoke in a soft tone, still laying her head on your shoulder and holding your arm, "....I had always been in that big, empty house. I would walk from one end to the other, knowing every tile on the floor and every potion bottle on the shelves. The house was gray, dark, and quiet. The only time it ever felt alive was when a bird flew past the window."

You narrowed your eyes, "Do you mean Porto-Veno Castle?"

"No, I lived in a different manor before I went for the trials. I used to the watch the bird flutter its wings until it became nothing more than a dot in the sky. Beyond that, the sky turned a clear blue, and the trees shone a bright green. It was such a beautiful sight. That was when I would wonder… what was happening in that thick forest? Maybe a princess was having an adventure."

She smiled and raised her head from your shoulder, keeping her eyes locked to yours.

"I'd imagine a clever princess who knew how to spot a poisoned apple. When a snake chased her, a little bird would swoop in to save her, carrying her high into the sky. There, she would find a girl in red shoes who couldn't stop dancing and save her. Then, they would dive into the sea to rescue a siren who was on the verge of turning into foam. In the end, the bird would carry them all, flying as far as it could until it could fly no more, finally landing in a castle… But what was the castle like? I only hoped it wasn't like the manor I lived in—big and boring."

She softly chuckled, making you smile in return. Her gaze lowered as she reminisced further, opening up a rare vulnerable part about herself.

"Sorry, that probably sounds all over the place, doesn't it? Well… Mother and Father always said that girls from the Fisalia family didn't need to read silly fairytales or have strange ideas like that. We were supposed to read books— books like The Complete Guide to Poison Recipes, The Fisalia Family's Secret Elixirs, and 108 Poisons You Never Knew About. They were interesting, but after reading them too many times, they became dull. Still, Mother and Father insisted that I memorize everything so that one day, I could save myself, or perhaps even become a Maiden or the family's leader. It sounded like a huge responsibility. I didn't really understand it yet, but I did what they told me."

You reached out to tug a strand of hair behind her ear, gently tracing her cheek.

"What do you feel now? Has the princess finally had her adventure and gained freedom?"

Cantarella smiled and extended her hand to brush a leaf on your head then cupped your face and leaned closer, her lips merely inches away from yours.

"You already know the answer to that, don't you?~"

Your eyes hooded as she leaned closer, "Well, it gives reassurance to hear you say it."

She softly chuckled, her breath brushing past your lips and her thumb tracing your bottom lip, "Indeed.... I have soared into the sky and the castle is no longer dark and brooding. And the bird wasn't a bird but you, Y/n, a savior of not just me but countless others."

Your face turned redder and Cantarella smirked, leaning even closer which made your noses touch.

"How adorable you look this way.... Show me more, would you?~"

And with that, her lips met yours in a soft yet firm kiss. You froze for a heartbeat as Cantarella's lips pressed against yours, the touch like the first bloom of spring after a long winter. The world narrowed to this single point of contact— her warmth seeping into you. It’s nothing like you imagined, and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Her lips were surprisingly plush, yielding to yours with a delicate pressure. You mirrored her touch, your lips softening, deepening the kiss.

Her hand, previously resting on your cheek, moved to the back of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair. A small moan escaped your lips, and you felt her smile against your mouth. The kiss deepened further, becoming more insistent, more demanding. You responded in kind, your own hands finding their way to her back, drawing her closer until there was no space left between you.

An eternity may have passed when she finally pulled back with a soft sigh, the sensations and feel of her soft lips still lingering on yours. You breathed against each other, her hand coming forward to caress your cheek. She smiled and kissed the corner of your lips then leaned near your ear to whisper, "Thank you for this, for everything."

Her arms wrapped around your torso in a close embrace, her head now resting on your shoulder and feeling your touch. You slowly wrapped your arms around her and hugged her back, gently caressing her back in a soothing manner.

"There's no need to thank me. This wouldn't have been possible if not for your own choices, you said it yourself."

Cantarella hummed in agreement, "I'm aware. But, it wouldn't hurt for you to accept gratitude once in a while, would it?~"

She released the hug and drew away from you, gazing at you with a smile.

"U-uh, you are welcome...." you stuttered bashfully, face growing red once again.

She chuckled and pecked your cheek then turned to the side, "Well, let us eat before these go anymore colder. I don't want to spoil your effort~"

You nodded then continued with your meal, savoring the moment together. The sun began setting by the time you finished, a cool breeze with warm sunlight accompanying you now.

"Where would you like to go after this, Cantarella? Or shall we call it a day if it's late for you?"

"Hm, it's still rather early. I don't have a curfew, per say. Let me think..." she pondered for a moment then looked at you with a slightly excited expression, "Do you remember the Lake of Spirits in the Inverted Tower?"

"Of course, it was a beautiful place. Do you want to go there?"

"Unless you have something else in mind.... I figured it's not a bad place to revisit?"

You nodded with a smile, "Sure, I'm happy to go anywhere with you."

She chuckled, "Our feelings are mutual~"

You made your way to Avinoleum, to the Seminary where the door to the Lake of Spirits existed. The journey was rather long but still enjoyable as you talked and explored along the way, stopping by to look at the scenery or simply bask in nature, even having to do some fighting along the way. It was late evening by the time you reached the place, but the effort and time spent was worth it for the beauty of this place.

"Exquisite.... such a calm and delightful space. How pleasant it is to be eneveloped by a sea of stars from all sides...." she hummed with a smile, relishing the scenery as you strolled on the lake in the gondola.

You gazed at her gleeful state, the smiling expression and excited eyes. You didn't realize when you became entranced once again, your eyes unable to leave her. Her lavender hair swayed with the wind and the hues around perfectly complimented her style.

"May I take a picture of you, Cantarella?" you suddenly asked, making her slightly surprised.

"Oh? Go ahead. This makes me think we should have taken more photos throughout the day."

She turned to face you and adjusted herself, smoothening her dress and hair then assuming a natural posture.

"We can take some while going back, or any other day as well." you replied as you waited for her to be ready.

"That'll be good. Is this pose okay?"

You nodded then brought up the camera and clicked some pictures of her with the sea of stars in the background.

"Wonderful. Here, I'll take yours now."

She stood up and walked towards you, asking for the camera.

"O-Oh, it's okay. I have taken pictures here before."

"Oh, I see.... Shall we take some together then?~"

You blushed and nodded then stood up to stand beside her. You tried to hold up the camera facing you to take a selfie but it proved to be difficult. That's when your Tacet Mark started glowing and Abby came out abruptly.

"Just leave it to me! You both just pose together!" he held up the camera and waited for you both.

"A-Abby, at least give me a warning next time."

"Don't waste time now! Come on, scootch closer!"

He probed you. You stepped a little closer to her until your shoulders touched then smiled at the camera. Abby took a few pictures then appeared dissatisfied.

"Mm, this doesn't do. Make a better pose. Y/n, put your arm around her waist!"

"Oi, Abby!" you exclaimed in embarrassment while Cantarella chuckled.

"I don't mind, dear. Go on, touch me however you like~" Of course, she wouldn't back down from the teasing either.

You pursed your lips then slowly slung your right arm around her waist and gently pulled her closer, your bodies flush against each other, so much so that you could feel her ample breasts pressing against your side. Abby gave a thumbs-up and clicked some photos.

"Ok, next pose! Cantarella, put your arms around Y/n's neck and look at each other!"

"Abby?!" you exclaimed again, "This isn't some photosho—?!" your words were held in your throat as Cantarella swiftly wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you towards herself, your bodies once again flush against each other and her face extremely close to you.

"Like this, Abby?~" she asked playfully with a smirk.

"Perfect! Y/n, put your arms around her waist now!"

Both of them banded together to tease you, you knew it. Although, Cantarella seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. You composed yourself then wrapped your arms around her waist and gazed into her azure eyes, a light blush covering your cheeks and you noticed even Cantarella's face was a little flushed. Abby clicked some pictures from different angles then gave the okay for you to release the pose.

"Hmm, for the next one...." he pondered.

"I think that'll be sufficient, Abby..."

"Oh, are you sure? What do you think, Cantarella?"

You turned to look at her with a pleading look and she smiled, "Indeed, this is satisfying enough. Thank you for the assistance."

Abby let out a sigh then nodded and went back inside your Tacet Mark. You scratched your head and looked at her with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry if that was uncomfortable...."

"Not at all, Y/n. I mean every word I said~"

Your face flushed immediately. You knew what she was referring to. An unspoken air of tension engulfed you as you gazed at each other. Then, you suddenly lost your balance as the gondola pushed up from your side and made you tumble towards her. She quickly opened her arms and cushioned your fall, your face landing in her soft plentiful breasts as her arms securely wrapped around you.

"Oh, are you okay, my dear?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm so sorry!" you looked up at her and were caught off-guard by the closeness and the intoxicating scent radiating from her body, not to mention the supple feel of her breasts.

Your face flushed again, and so did Cantarella's. Her hands moved to cup your face and she pulled your face towards hers then pressed your lips together. The initial shock was quickly replaced by feelings of affection as you melted into the kiss, your bodies mending into one. You soon found yourself pushed down on the floor of the gondola with Cantarella's body on top, straddling you, your lips still locked in a heated exchange.

Her hands fumbled with your clothes, impatiently roaming here and there as if she wanted to desperately take them off. She adjusted herself on your lap more, now sitting on it properly as her arms snaked around your neck and she deepened the kiss. Her engraved tongue licked your lips, seeking entry, which you were too eager to give. Your tongue mingled with hers, soft moans resounding in your ear.

"Mmh, Y/n.... more....~" she hummed and came even closer, pushing her tongue deeper to completely enrapture your mouth, aching to explore every corner.

You melted into one under the sea of stars, creating yet another night to remember.

#wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #cantarella x reader #wuwa cantarella #cantarella #wuwa cantarella x reader #wuwa x reader

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