#as mentioned in the previous ask I feel a bit more comfortable writing for different fandoms and throwing them under a “misc”

[mrpenguinpants]

I love ur posts sm! Can you do kazuha, xiao and arlecchino (separately) w a reader who apologies a lot? (Hcs) Ty!!!!! If u dont want to it's fine :) also do you write for every character??? Because Ive checked ur rules but there wasnt a list (or I didnt looked very well...) Anyways, BYEEE :D

I'm just going to answer this early but yes, I write for every character except the children-looking characters (ex. Qiqi, Diona, Nahida, etc.) Even if it's platonic, it feels weird writing about a kid no matter how old they're supposed to be in game. That doesn't mean I won't include them, so if you want to use them as a plot device (like Klee with Albedo), I'm all for that. As long as your requested character is someone else, it's totally cool with me.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

‼️NSFW Announcement‼️ This is the only announcement on a chapter I’ll be doing, so if you’re under 18 do not attempt to read from this chapter on. I do not go very mild when I write smut, this is the tamest I’ll be going so if you don’t like it and don’t want it don’t continue. I don’t let you know when smut starts and ends so read with caution. I also know knotting is a big part in a/b/o lore, however I’m not a big fan of it. I mention it, I acknowledge that it’s a thing and respect it but I don’t go into detail. My characters in this don’t wrap it up, it’s not good irl. Always wrap it up! Enjoy💜

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 9: Breaking Point

The week following the pool incident had been a study in escalating tension. Whatever barriers had been holding the members back seemed to have crumbled completely after Hongjoong's public kiss, leaving you navigating a minefield of heated glances, lingering touches, and barely concealed desire from seven different alphas.

Your body felt like it was on fire constantly now. Even with your scent blockers firmly in place, your omega seemed to be responding to their collective alpha attention in ways that left you restless, overheated, and aching for something you couldn't quite name. Sleep had become nearly impossible, your dreams filled with phantom scents and touches that left you waking up disoriented and wanting.

Wooyoung and San had become your constant shadows, their natural affectionate natures now amplified to an almost overwhelming degree. Gone were the casual touches—replaced by deliberate cuddling sessions that left your skin tingling and your heart racing.

"You look tired, Tulip," San had observed just that morning, settling beside you on the couch where you'd been reviewing schedules. Without asking permission, he'd pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping around you with possessive comfort. "Rest for a bit."

The warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, should have been soothing. Instead, it had sent electric currents through your nervous system, your omega practically purring at the alpha contact while your rational mind struggled to maintain professional boundaries.

Wooyoung had appeared moments later, as if summoned by some invisible signal, settling on your other side and casually draping his legs across yours. "Group cuddle session?" he'd suggested with that mischievous smile, though his eyes held a heat that had nothing to do with playfulness.

"I'm supposed to be working," you'd protested weakly, even as your body had instinctively relaxed between them.

"Work can wait," Wooyoung had murmured, his fingers beginning to play with strands of your hair. "Taking care of our Tulip is more important."

The possessive "our" had sent a shiver down your spine that both alphas had definitely noticed, judging by their satisfied expressions.

Mingi and Yunho had taken a different approach, but no less effective in driving you to distraction. Every interaction seemed to involve some excuse for physical contact—Mingi's hand on the small of your back as he guided you through doorways, Yunho's fingers brushing yours for just a moment too long when passing you documents.

"You've got an eyelash," Yunho had said yesterday, appearing beside your desk with that bright smile that never failed to make your heart skip. Before you could protest, his thumb had gently brushed against your cheek, the touch so tender it had made your breath catch.

"There," he'd murmured, showing you the non-existent eyelash on his finger. "Make a wish."

The intimacy of the moment, the way his eyes had lingered on your face, had left you speechless and flustered in a way that had clearly pleased him immensely.

Even Jongho and Yeosang, typically the most reserved of the group, had begun showing their interest in ways that surprised you. Jongho had started bringing you small gifts—your favorite coffee in the morning, a book he thought you'd enjoy, a small potted plant for your desk. Each offering came with minimal explanation but maximum impact, his dark eyes studying your reaction with quiet intensity.

Yeosang's approach was more subtle but perhaps more devastating. He'd begun engaging you in deeper conversations, his perceptive observations and thoughtful questions creating an intimacy that was purely intellectual but no less affecting. Yesterday, he'd spent an hour discussing a book you'd both read, his quiet voice and insightful commentary drawing you into a bubble of connection that had felt almost as intimate as physical touch.

"You have a beautiful mind," he'd said as you'd wrapped up the conversation, the simple compliment delivered with such sincerity that it had stayed with you for hours.

And then there was Hongjoong. The leader had become bold in a way that left you constantly on edge, stealing moments whenever you found yourselves alone. A kiss pressed against your temple as he'd leaned over to check something on your computer. His lips brushing your knuckles when you'd handed him a document. Yesterday, he'd cornered you in the supply closet, pressing you against the wall for a kiss that had left you breathless and wanting more.

"I can't stop thinking about the pool," he'd murmured against your lips, his hands framing your face with reverent care. "About how you felt in my arms."

The memory alone was enough to make heat pool low in your belly, your omega responding to his alpha presence with an intensity that sometimes frightened you.

But it was Seonghwa's behavior that confused you most. The eldest member seemed to be the only one maintaining his distance, though you often caught him watching you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. There was warmth in his gaze, certainly, and something that might have been longing, but he kept himself carefully apart from the increasingly bold advances of his packmates.

The contradiction was maddening. You found yourself craving his touch, his attention, in a way that seemed disproportionate to his reserved behavior. Sometimes you caught him looking at you with such intensity that your skin would flush, but he never acted on whatever he was feeling, maintaining that friendly but professional distance that left you wondering if you were imagining the heat in his gaze.

Your omega was becoming increasingly agitated by the mixed signals, by the constant state of arousal without resolution. Your scent blocker felt like both a necessity and a prison—protecting your secret while preventing you from fully experiencing the alpha pheromones that your body was clearly craving.

You'd started having moments where you seriously considered removing the blocker, just to see what would happen. The thought terrified and thrilled you in equal measure. What would it be like to smell Hongjoong's scent?!Wooyoung's ? San's? How would they react to your own scent of jasmine and vanilla?

But fear always won out. Fear of changing the dynamic irrevocably, of complicating your professional relationship, of facing the reality of what you all seemed to be building toward.

---

Tonight, that careful balance finally shattered.

You'd retreated to the guesthouse early, claiming exhaustion from the day's packed schedule. In reality, you'd reached your limit for alpha attention without resolution, your body feeling like a live wire from the constant state of arousal their touches and glances induced.

You'd taken a cold shower, hoping to calm your overheated system, but even that hadn't helped. Now you sat on your bed in just a oversized t-shirt and shorts, your skin still feeling too sensitive, too aware. Every nerve ending seemed attuned to the main house across the garden, to the eight alphas who had somehow become the center of your universe.

The sharp knock on your door made you jump, your heart immediately racing. It was nearly ten PM—late for casual visits, but you'd learned that normal rules didn't seem to apply to your relationship with the members anymore.

"Come in," you called, expecting perhaps Hongjoong with another stolen moment, or maybe Seonghwa checking on your wellbeing with his characteristic concern.

Instead, Wooyoung burst through the door with the barely contained energy of someone who'd reached his breaking point. His hair was disheveled as if he'd been running his hands through it, his eyes bright with something between desperation and determination.

"I can't do this anymore," he announced without preamble, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't pretend that what's happening between us is normal. I can't keep playing these games where we touch and flirt and dance around what we all know is true."

You stood slowly from the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs as you took in his appearance. There was something wild about him tonight, something unleashed that sent both thrill and alarm through your system.

"Wooyoung," you began carefully, "what are you—"

"I'm talking about this," he interrupted, gesturing between you with frustrated energy. "About the way you look at me, at all of us. About the way your pulse races when I touch you. About the way you practically melted into Hongjoong in that pool."

Heat flooded your cheeks at his words, at the accuracy of his observations. "I don't know what you—"

"Don't," he said firmly, taking a step closer. "Don't pretend you don't feel it. Don't lie to me, to yourself, about what's happening here." His voice dropped to that register that always made your omega sit up and take notice. "I see how you watch us, Tulip. I see how you respond to our touch. And I know you want this as much as we do."

Your breath caught in your throat as he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with each step. "Wooyoung, we can't—this is complicated—"

"Why?" he demanded, stopping just inches away from you. "Because you work for us? Because there are eight of us? Because it doesn't fit into neat little boxes that society approves of?"

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the golden flecks starting to appear in his eyes as his alpha nature responded to the charged atmosphere between you. Your own omega was practically vibrating with need, with the desire to close the distance between you, consequences be damned.

"Because I'm not who you think I am," you whispered, the admission slipping out before you could stop it.

Wooyoung's expression softened slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek with surprising gentleness. "Then tell me who you are. Tell me what you're hiding. Tell me why you think it matters more than this."

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, and you couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped at the contact. The sound seemed to break whatever restraint he'd been clinging to.

"Fuck it," he muttered, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was everything you'd been craving and more—desperate, passionate, claiming. His hands tangled in your hair as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours with an urgency that matched your own. You melted into him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

This wasn't the playful, teasing Wooyoung you'd grown accustomed to. This was pure alpha, pure need, pure desire finally unleashed.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his eyes were fully golden, the alpha glow unmistakable in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

"There," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction and desire. "No more pretending. No more games. Now tell me you don't feel it too."

Looking into his transformed eyes, feeling the way your body hummed with rightness at his touch, you realized that your carefully constructed walls had finally crumbled completely. There was no going back from this moment, no returning to the professional distance you'd tried so hard to maintain.

"I feel it," you whispered, the admission both terrifying and liberating. "I feel all of it. With all of you."

Wooyoung's smile was triumphant and tender as he laid you down. His breathing hard above you, radiating energy and satisfaction, but the hunger in his gaze said he was far from done.

He pulled back just enough to drag his shirt off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness, before returning to you—his bare chest warm against your skin. His hands settled at your hips and he tugged at the waistband of your shorts; there was no pretense of patience, just a raw urgency as he peeled them away, taking your underwear with them.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, eyes devouring every newly revealed inch, heat and reverence warring there. “Wish I could breathe you in—wish I could drown in your scent—” He cut himself off, frustration flaring, but his hands were sure as he spread your legs, kneeling between them. “Guess I’ll just have to taste you instead.”

Then his mouth was on you. The first slow drag of his tongue from your entrance up to your clit was deliberate—so, so deliberate—and your hips tried to jerk from the bed in answer. Wooyoung growled, low in his throat, holding you down as his tongue circled, flicked, lapped, learning your responses by sound and the tremors in your thighs.

The world narrowed to sensation: the heat of his tongue, the tease of his lips, his hair against your inner thighs, rough and ticklish. He was messy about it—no smooth choreography, just hunger and intent, making up for everything he couldn’t sense with pure appetite. You whimpered his name, fingers curling in the sheets, desperate for anything to ground you.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, humming at your cry, then licked deeper—his tongue broad and hot, relentless—until there was only the build and build of pleasure, white-hot and unbearable. You were loud now, uncaring, every cry a thank you and a plea.

He only stopped when your thighs trembled against his cheeks, when you pleaded, broken-voiced, “Wooyoung, please—please, I need—I need—”

He growled “Let go. Now Tulip.”

You shattered with a cry, your whole body shaking.

When you finally catch your breath, body limp and aglow from Wooyoung’s unrestrained attention, you prop yourself on your elbows to look down at him. His hair is wild, lips slick and red, eyes smoky with pride and adoration—a little bit wrecked and loving it. The sight ignites something bold inside you.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach for him, fingers curling into his hair to bring him up, capturing his lips in a hungry, grateful kiss. You taste yourself on him and he moans into your mouth as if he’s never wanted anything more. You pull him close, rolling so you’re on top, knees bracketing his hips.

He laughs softly, surprised and delighted, letting his head sink back into the pillows. “Oh?” His hands settle on your thighs, stroking them encouragingly. “You wanna take over, Tulip?”

You smile, feeling a thrill at the way his voice—husky and playful—wraps around you. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I want you like this.”

He bites his lower lip, a flush creeping up his throat as he looks at you spread over him. “Whatever you want, I’m yours tonight,” he whispers. “Show me what my Tulip wants.”

Your heart thuds, but the words make you bold. You drag your palms slowly down his torso, watching him gasp and arch into you, sensitive and eager for more.

You shift, settling between his legs, and slide your hands down until you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. Wooyoung lifts his hips with a helpless little sound. “Take ‘em off,” he pleads, needy but so gentle. “I want to feel you—your hands, your mouth, whatever you want to give. Please, baby.”

You oblige, slowly, teasing him with little grazes of your nails as you drag the fabric away. His cock is heavy and flushed, impossibly hard, and your mouth waters at the sight. The urge to please him, to unravel him as thoroughly as he did you, takes over.

You wrap your hand around him, just enough to make him hiss, then look up through your lashes. “Tell me what you like, Wooyoung.”

He groans, his head tipping back, eyes dark gold with want. “Touch me—just like that. A little tighter, ah—yeah, that’s good—I love the way your hands feel on me.” He cards his fingers through your hair, not pushing, just anchoring.

You stroke him, noting every twitch, every whispered curse. He’s unguarded with you, rolling his hips into your hand, whispering encouragements: “You—fuck, you’re so pretty like this. You look so good between my legs, Tulip. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You lean down, brushing the head of his cock with your lips, then your tongue, just a soft swirl. He shivers, his hand tightening in your hair. “God, yes—just like that, baby…take your time. Don’t rush. I just want to feel you.”

You tease him, kitten-licks at first, loving the way he gasps—so responsive, so vocal for you. You trace the vein along the underside, stroke him with your tongue, taking him in slowly, feeling the heat and weight of him on your lips.

Wooyoung’s voice becomes your guide, a constant thread of affirmation. “That’s it, yeah…ah, you’re driving me fucking crazy. You look incredible—don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You work your mouth and hand together, building a rhythm, watching his face for every clue—he’s a mess for you, eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading at his brow, chest heaving with every ragged breath. You hum around him, and he bucks his hips, barely holding back.

Suddenly, urgency overtakes him. “Wait—wait—slow down, I don’t wanna come yet, not so fast—” He pulls your hair gently, guiding you off him, then dragging you up for a breathless kiss. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he pants, nuzzling into your neck, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect. I wanna last, I wanna remember every second with you.”

You giggle against his throat, giddy with power and affection, and grind your hips gently against his thigh. Wooyoung moans, hands sliding down to squeeze your waist, his cock pressed between you, slippery and aching. You reach down, stroking him again. 

You sink back down, taking him in hand and mouth once more, working him with careful, practiced flicks, all the while basking in his praise. “Yeah—fuck, yeah, you’re so good, Tulip…your mouth—your hands—can’t believe you’re doing this for me, letting me have you like this.”

When he starts to grow restless, hips flexing, you stroke him a little harder, licking the sensitive spot just beneath the tip. His breath stutters, his hand a tangle in your hair.

“Close—so close—baby, you gonna let me?” His words are a shudder, trembling with vulnerability and hope. “Gonna let me come for you? Want you to see, want you to know it’s you—only you—”

You hum your ‘yes’ and don’t let up, watching him unravel, pushed to the edge by just your mouth, your hand, and the knowledge that he’s yours to wreck, to comfort, to love. He groans your name—a long, strangled sound—and spills in your mouth and over your fingers, hips jerking upward.

He’s shaking in the aftermath, loose and glowing and utterly undone. You swallow, then crawl up to kiss his flushed cheek, his jaw, his lips. Wooyoung gathers you into his arms, pulling you close as if he never wants to let go.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, brushing stray hair from your forehead, thumb stroking your cheek. “Thank you. I could do this forever with you. I want to.”

He kisses you soft and deep, then lets his hand drift, stroking your back, grounding you both. In the quiet that follows, his voice makes you feel cherished, safe, and wanted—exactly as you are.

Next>>

Taglist: @paramedicnerd004 @ateezswonderland @sassy-snassy @frankielou02 @rosydipity @starz-choisanii @giiouis @vikc @mxnsxngie @woohwaholic @alexanaguma @nkryuki @multifandom301 @green-moon @uhh-awkward-rightt @phantomslutz @lostxxgirl @mdurir @m00njinnie @ramadiiiisme @yukichan67 @lcvejjoong @fumaluvr @addi-3 @aerixfixoff @cherrysainttt @thuyting @flambychan @herpoetryprincess @littlexbunni @vtyb23 @soobieboobiebaby @marsofeight @yungiswife @yunyunrin @aceshiho @desi2go @intowxnderland @btch8008s @rileylovescats @darkdayelixer @miniverse-zen @hartsablaze @h0rnyp0t @hartsablaze @yungiswife @giiouis @0-beemzy-0 @prettypeachprincesz @awkward-fucking-thing

Want to be added to the taglist? Comment on the masterlist!💜

Taglist is temporarily open again

[bernardsbendystraws]

can you write a short blurb abt snow and matt having sleepovers pls! im curious as to why and i really just love them. thank you!

ೃ࿔*:･ Snow .ᐟ Reader x FWB.ᐟ Matt

You can't sleep in your own bed.

⚠︎ mentions of previous SA, cuddling, fluff, short

You haven’t been sleeping, at least not in your own bed. 

It’s unusual. Matt does not appreciate when he’s unable to get his alone time. Having nights to himself used to be a necessity—but you were just…different.

He doesn’t know the gruesome details, he doesn’t need to. He’s aware you were hurt—traumatized, even. The way things ended with your ex was not good. It wasn’t even the cheating and manipulation that made you finally break things off with that poor excuse of a man, it was the way he violated you. 

You got rid of your comforter. Every stuffed animal you owned had been thrown deep into your closet, left to collect dust. A soft mattress no longer brought you peace, it made your heart race with a devastating nausea in the pit of your gut. 

“Do you wanna just spend the night?” he asks, hugging you a bit closer under his arm as you both lay on his bed. You nod slightly. Matt sighs as you lazily trace your fingers over his chest, your frizzy hair tickling against his jaw in a way that makes his heart flourish with a wave of comfort. 

You won’t sleep in your own bed—Matt knows you won’t. You’ll show up with tired, swollen eyes the next day. And he hates seeing that. There’s no part of him that minds having you in his bed. In fact, sometimes he craves your touch more than he’s willing to admit. 

It’s confusing. Your own bed—especially alone—feels like utter torture to toss and turn in all night. But sleeping in Matt’s bed is heaven. 

“Are you sure though?” you ask, gnawing on your bottom lip, “-I’ve stayed over like three nights in a row—”

“Do you need clothes or something? We can make a quick trip to your place if you need stuff,” Matt points, completely oblivious to the point you’re trying to make.

“Matt.” you huff, looking up at him with a firm glance. “I mean, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome.” 

“What?” he asks, his eyes furrow in confusion. “No, no—not at all,” he breathes, letting his hand around your waist massage in light circles as he shakes his head side to side. Clutching you close, he cradles the back of your head while pushing you to lay on his chest. 

“You’re gonna get sick of me,” you laugh.

“Nah,” he sighs, pressing a light kiss to the crown of your head, “-just get some sleep, alright?” 

A/N: In no way am I trying to “romanize” anything. I write about real world issues that countless amount of people unfortunately have to endure. I place warnings to prohibit triggering anyone and also try to write everything tastefully. If this is not okay with you, that’s fine but do not send hate about it. You know nothing about me or what I’ve gone through in life.

With love and big tits, Rose 🌹

[kajibunny]

⋆🌷🫧⋆｡° intrusive thoughts 💭₊˚ෆ (hayato suo x reader)

collab piece for amor's event, ORQUÍDEAS

PENSAMIENTOS INTRUSIVOS - yesterday, today, tomorrow; unwanted thoughts oftentimes linger through your mind. after rough experiences with love, he's more than ready to show you how much he loves you to make those intrusive thoughts fly away.

✿ contains: very suggestive content (towards the end), mentions of previous toxic relationships, slight angst (with comfort), f!reader, suo being a hopeless romantic (fluff) ✿ a/n: first time joining an event (so honored to join, thank you amor!) and writing a full piece dedicated for suo ♡ for my suo girlies out there, ya'll are among the sweetest and nicest people! you deserve suo's unconditional love~ ✿ wc: 1.1k

yesterday ── ✧

you've never known a guy as mature as suo. in fact, all you've ever known are rowdy immature guys who have no plans, no vision for the future, and no idea how to treat a woman right. 

however, suo is a pure contrast to all of them. at first glance, one would say he's an absolute gentleman. disciplined, extremely intelligent, perceptive, and not to mention handsome. truly the perfect package.

the only catch? he is too good to be true. suo is the most mysterious and enigmatic person you've ever met. it also didn't help that he has a reputation for being a tease and a bit of a liar. 

it's true that he has lied quite a lot, but never about his feelings for you. 

suo professed his love for you months ago, and had started courting you for quite some time now. he knew you wanted him as well, even though you refused to give in to him out of your own personal trust issues with men in the past, which made it difficult for you to believe him.

you didn't believe suo when he told you he could treat you right, like the empress that you are. 

you didn't believe suo when he said he'd give you the world, make you feel special like you deserve.  

you didn't believe suo when he said that things would be different with him. he says that he would love you with his whole heart, and take you up the staircase to adulthood, whatever that meant.

"prove it to me." you challenged, with no expectations in your thoughts, as flowery words only meant so little to you. 

his reply was steady, full of confidence. 

"of course, darling. for you, i'll do whatever it takes." 

he calls you his 'darling' like he means it, and looks at you like you were the most precious rare jewel in the world.

suo’s words were promising, but you knew better than to fall for mere promises. you had been let down one too many times before. if he wanted your trust, he would have to earn it.

actions spoke louder than words, so he would have to find a way to convince you. you've been through so much heartbreak and toxicity that you just found yourself so hesitant to let anyone else in. 

today ── ✧

they definitely didn't call suo a "master of negotiation" for nothing. 

he showed up to your home with a large bouquet of flowers, a mix of reds and purples, which perfectly complemented his burgundy toned hair.

"what's this for?" you ask, perplexed at him suddenly gifting you with such an eloquent set of flowers. they seemed like they cost a fortune too. the bouquet was wrapped in embossed paper and high quality silk ribbons, because suo wanted only the best for you.

"these orchids are a symbol of your elegance and beauty, these roses are a symbol of my passion and desire for you, and the heliotropes represent my everlasting devotion." suo explains, handing the flowers over to you.

he is obviously well-versed in flower language. could this man be any more perfect? 

a mixture of wonder and disbelief were reflected in your eyes. "for me?" you admire each beautiful fresh flower, softly running your fingertips through the petals. 

none of your past lovers had ever gotten you flowers before, and one of them even once forgot your birthday. so this was something totally new to you. 

"you told me to convince you, so here i am, trying to convince you." he smiled, his charming, captivating, signature suo smile. 

you blush at his gesture. "thank you suo, you really didn't have to, but that's very thoughtful of you." 

"do i get a kiss as a token of gratitude?" suo asks, a playful grin spreading across his face as he leans in slightly.

you roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "don’t push it, hayato." you reply.

suo’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback not only by the way you casually used his first name but also by the unexpected moment when you tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

maybe suo really is a better negotiator than you thought. well, he certainly had his way of convincing you, that's for sure. 

tomorrow ── ✧

you weren't certain when you started to notice it, but the pain of heartache that had once felt so overwhelming now seemed like a fading shadow. gradually replaced by a quiet sense of peace, as if your heart was finally learning to heal and make room for something new, something better.

something like hayato suo. 

both of you were definitely ready to take the next step, imagining a future together. (maybe this was what he meant by the 'staircase to adulthood' that he kept talking about so much.)

he cherished you dearly, his kisses always so soft and gentle. he held you with tender fingers, like you were fine china. night after night, he lapped at you hungrily, like you were the sweetest tea he'd ever drank. in suo's bed the both of you lay, him basking in your beautiful afterglow. 

"you're so cute." he said, stroking your hair. "but you know what would make you even cuter? if i kiss you right now." 

"is kissing all you ever think about, hayato?" you sigh.

suo shrugs. "ever since i fell in love with you, yes, i believe it's all i ever think about."

"how did you end up falling for me, hm?" you nuzzle against his chest, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

"i'm not sure, either. maybe you put some type of love potion in my tea?" he replies to you, his hand reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers with his. 

"stop, i did not, that seems more like something you would do, hayato!" you giggle, playfully giving him a light shove on the shoulder. 

he chuckles in response and leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "the ancient spirit in my eye says we should kiss now."

curious, you tilted your head and ask, "did it now? tell me, what's really under your eyepatch, anyway?" 

"darling, you already saw what's under my clothes and now you want to see what's under my eyepatch, too?" his gaze locks in with yours, a teasing glint present in suo's eye. 

before you could respond, he presses his lips against yours. afterwards, suo proceeded to place a kiss on your ring finger that is adorned with an antique promise ring. a matching set to his antique earrings, which he slid around your finger the moment you told him you were ready to accept his affections. 

you have suo totally and irrevocably wrapped around your finger, literally and figuratively. he has always promised himself to you since yesterday, today, tomorrow, and always.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Comfort for the Soul Part 2

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts*!Reader

Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed the previous chapter! Thank you all for the support and love - I love writing this sweet man and I may be writing more for him in the future!

I don't know much about Bipolar disorder, but I tried my best to look more into it to make Bob seem more realistic. It's easy to make Bob and his other 'personalities' similar to DID, but it is not at all the same.

Summary: When you realise your supply of blood bags have run dry, Bob is more than willing to become your temporary blood bag.

Tags: blood, swearing, blood drinking, reader is part vampire (think Blade - day walker and backstory explained a bit more), Bob is very touch starved and very smitten, fluff, pet names, Bob feels some self-doubt, mentions of the Void, making out, getting caught, Bob and reader being possessive, some 18+ moments (Bob gets a boner a few times)

Wordcount: 4,6k

E/C = eye colour

L/N = Last name

Lo and behold, Valentina was not true to her word; those three days suddenly went to five.

Your frustrations were greatly felt throughout the tower, much to the dismay of your team-mates, awkwardly giving support to their best of their knowledge.

It wasn't their fault they didn't know much about day walkers; they had been a rarity, but even you found their curious questions became something far too comical.

"Can't she just eat a squirrel?" John had finally asked at dinner, the group of you giving him varying looks of disbelief. "There's plenty in the park."

"She's part vampire, Walker, not a dog," Ava argued.

"It's fine, guys, I'll live." You chewed on the steak Alexei had offered to cook for you. A plain, on the verge of being a medium rare steak, nothing else to go with it.

Despite his help, he almost forgot about it a second too long, so the juices weren't as plentily. As Walker described it, "you might as well still eat it whilst it's still mooing."

The group didn't discuss anything on it, putting out ideas of what the evening should be: games, movie, trivia night, but your mind was distracted by the kind, thoughtful gesture that Bob had offered to you.

He had been keen on offering himself up as your temporary meal for only three days, but whether he would want to continue this for a few more was something you needed to bring up with him.

It didn't help; you could still see the band-aids he wore underneath his sweater, and the flesh was still healing.

Your mouth watered, the way he sat so snug in his comfy clothes didn't help your situation, sweet, oblivious Bob, unaware of how you were feeling. It took a lot in you now that you had gotten a taste of him, not to just keep pouncing on him every five minutes.

The group had gotten into a debate on films, which ones to watch, and only those that bring your attention back to them.

"If we do watch Star Wars, which ones - prequels or originals -Bob, why don't you pick?" Yelena had brought the attention back to Bob, whose attention had been given to shyly looking over at you when he thought you weren't looking.

"Uh-sorry, what were we talking about?"

"Ugh, see? He was too busy giving love eyes to YN!" Walker gestures, but none of them go further into it. Rather, Bob is left with the comment swimming in his mind, his eyes trailing to you to see if you are just as embarrassed as he is.

You give a sympathetic smile, one that doesn't pity him, and you don't make him feel worse. He feels relieved you don't look at him any differently; rather, your attention has shifted.

The heavy debate seemed to bring the worst out of Walker and Ava, disagreeing that "the prequels were better" or "no, originals are the best, we have to start with that and the order they came out in"

You cut them off before you can stomach their growing voices, "Hey guys, I might sit this one out-"

"Oh, no, you're not, L/N!" Walker and almost half of your team shouted out, before Bucky sighed, muttering, "Fuck it, prequels it is," before going to set it up in the living room.

"Hey," a small voice called to you, a nudge to the shoulder as you looked briefly from your unfinished meal to see Bob had made his way over to sit next to you, "something up?"

"All good," you whispered back, but you knew you had to ask him soon enough, "are you free after this? Need to ask you something."

"Of course." He smiled broadly, the smile lines in his face made him look boyish and youthful. Despite taking a chunk out of him the previous night, he seemed to be soothed by being in your presence.

You can't say anything else to him before you're whisked over to help with popcorn duty with Yelena, and Bob is dragged by Alexei to the couch.

"Hey, saved you a seat," Bob motions gently to the space beside him on the long sofa. You realise that he's in the curve of the L in the couch, and despite the length of the couch, you find that the space between you is practically nothing.

You scooch through as you take a seat, finding yourself rather cosied up beside him. Shoulders and legs touching, you realise he's emitting way too much heat to be humanly possible. There's a nervous, bashful look to him, like he's scared you're too uncomfortable being so close to him.

"Is this okay?" He whispers close to your ear when everyone has settled, the lights go off, and the movie intro starts. You notice his hands are fidgeting again, and on reflex, you take them into yours.

The jitteriness stops immediately, feeling the way Bob tenses again as if he's never felt you touch him before, his blue eyes flash with the light coming from the TV, and he looks ethereal with the backdrop of New York behind.

"I'm good." You give his hand a squeeze, your little message to him that you're next to him, not going anywhere.

He seems to relax into the bundle of blankets over you, and by the time the movie ends, you feel sluggish, warm, your head resting against his good shoulder, eyes drifting in and out of sleep.

"The lovebirds are at it again." You hear a voice, maybe Walker, but it sounds too happy, too pleased to see this; the sight of Bob reciprocating your touch, his eyes shut as he breathes deeply in a sleep.

You're so caught up in Bob and sleep, ignoring the snickering, the giggles, maybe even the sound of a phone camera shutter. You just feel so part of his life, and the feeling, unbeknownst to you, is reciprocated.

The group go back to their rooms, leaving the lights dimly lit as you slowly come around after a quick snooze, with Bob groggily joining you.

His brown locks are poking at random angles, his hair tousled but there is a sleepy, dreamy look to him when his eyes land on you beside him, realisation dawning on you both.

"Oh, guess the movie is done." His voice surprises you with how deep it sounds, "Surprised s'all."

"How come?"

"Usually, they're so loud," he laughs more to himself softly, his eyes twinkling in the dim light, "can't believe I wasn't thrown a pillow to the face for potentially snoring."

"Well, you're in luck, I didn't hear snoring," he matches your smile, relieved to hear that. You shift, feeling something had snaked around you.

Looking down, you spot Bob has not quite noticed he's wrapped himself around you, a hand on your waist, almost possessively, keeping you glued to his side.

"Sorry!-" He realised a second later when he sees what you're looking at, pulling back, but you immediately miss him, the way he feels around you, his scent, his overall being.

It's okay- you want to tell him- I like you being close- but you stop yourself from embarrassing yourself and admitting to it. You rake your fingers together, collecting the right words.

"Bob, I-"

"You... haven't fed properly, all day," he begins, eyeing you carefully. He sees it in the way your eyes are more frantic, you're jittery, and there's a sheen that looks like sweat across your brow.

You look at him, your heart pounding almost out of time to its normal beat, as Bob pulls back his sweater carefully, revealing the other side of his untouched skin. You feel the heartbeat there, strong, slightly fast.

"You can always... have some more now?" He asks, the softness in his voice is as if he's luring you out like a siren in the waters. It entices you easily, and you wish to just climb on top of him and commence there, but you're still cautious.

"Not here," you warn, and you look away from him, trying to ignore the briskness and liveliness coming from his chest. "If we were to do this, it would have to be in a room- yours maybe-"

"How about yours?" He asks, and the question has you wondering why he chose yours and not his. "I mean... only if you want...there's nothing against using my room-"

"My room it is then." You stand up abruptly, startling him, taking him by the hand as you both not-so-subtly scurry together down the hallway.

Bob doesn't think he's ever been more nervous in his life to be entering someone's bedroom, let alone it being yours.

He feels similar to some teenage boy sneaking off to a girl's room, an experience he never had but is all too giddy in finally getting to try it.

Bob doesn't know what he thinks he's going to experience when he comes into your room. Walker's 'vampiric' stereotypes run through his mind, and he's oddly curious but fully aware you won't have blood on the walls, upside-down crosses hanging everywhere.

Your hand has not left yours since you thumb the door quickly, efficiently, opening it without a second thought, as you allowed him to step in first, you following.

He's certainly not expecting your room to look so... normal?

No coffin to sleep in.

No dead animals hanging around.

Just a simple, normal bedroom, filled with a slightly above-average number of plants.

You have a bookshelf of books of different genres he's read, old vinyls and a player sitting by your window, a pair of cosy slippers sitting by the end of your bed.

Bob notices a sketchbook half-scattered on your desk and is amazed that you like to draw. There's a familiar scent of vanilla or coconut or something fancy that Bob can't place what it is, but it's warm and smells like you, and he slowly feels enveloped by it.

There are fairy lights strewn over the top of your bed, hanging like hundreds of fireflies, and Bob thinks, no doubt, that this room is undeniably yours.

"Make yourself comfy." You say behind him, as Bob clumsily makes his way to your bed, stunned, the sheets feel so soft compared to his; he sinks into the mattress rather than the one in his room that makes him feel like he's sitting on bedrock.

His mind drowns him with unwanted thoughts: thoughts of imagining the two of you curled up with one another, sharing a space that was intimate in itself for just letting both of you be one.

"Bob," he looks up as he realises he's caught dissociating, looking to see you hovering by the door, eyes flashing between E/C and those golden-white ones, "you're so pretty."

The compliment rattles through him: body, mind and soul. He's opening and closing his mouth erratically, noises anyone would not think could be humanly possible to make are are you both can hear. He's scrambling to think of something to say, thinking- his mind screaming with different thoughts of things to say back to you.

"You're pretty, too-gorgeous even! Um, like pretty in the face and body-oh, that sounds so creepy, hah-not like I'm staring at your body, I swear!-"

A giggle echoed in the softness of your room, and his heart hammers as if ready to be reached to and ripped from him. How someone like you can listen to him, even want to be with him, makes his mind spiral.

"You think I'm pretty, Bob?" You're lightly teasing him, stepping closer to him, observing him like he's prey, and he's sweating profusely, wishing he were doused in holy water for his racing thoughts. "Gorgeous?" You continue until you stand in front of him.

He's looking anywhere by at you, so scared he's going to mess things up, ruin your friendship if he does something-says something, and to watch everything he's tried making with you burn away.

He wishes the mattress could sink him further and further down into a nothing space, but he's so sure you can feel everything. Soft fingers hold his chin to make him look up at you, and all you do is smile down at him, and Bob feels weak.

"Do I scare you, Bob?" He hears it, the soft gravel in your tone, the growl that grips your question. You're ravenous, and he's enjoying this way too much.

"No," his voice is a shudder, his fingers fidget in wanting to touch you again, and he finds that they move on their own, moving tentatively over your hips, his eyes not leaving yours. "I'm not scared of you."

Humming, you lean over him until your mouth grazes lightly over the shell of his ear. "May I," he thinks you're going to ask something else, "bite you?"

He's so happy to be a part of this, nodding his head so enthusiastically that you fear it will roll off, presenting his neck to you as his anticipation rises. He forgets to take his sweatshirt off, but it doesn't matter, you have enough room.

You don't waste time this time, and Bob gasps all the same as before when you bite into him. This time, now being in the confines of four walls, his noises are louder.

"O-Oh." He whimpers unapologetically, large warm hands grip suddenly at you with the strength that still stuns you, pulling you until you're practically hovering over his lap. Bob doesn't stop there, finally tugging you as you move with him, leg sweeping over and caging him in.

His Adam's apple bobs, fingers holding you by your thighs, your waist, trailing higher towards your ribs, all whilst trying to concentrate on his breathing, despite hearing the rush of blood leaving his head.

He shifts you in his arms, and a rookie mistake is made by him, for he accidentally shifts you a bit too far forward. Your core catches his crotch, rubbing unintentionally the more you move.

Bob whines in the back of his throat, tears well in his eyes. It feels so good, but he feels terrified, having himself wrapped around your little finger. He wishes he could stay here, in your arms, embracing you for as long as possible.

You growl in the back of your throat, not human, the sound reverberates through from Bob's neck down into his chest, hammering like a bell. He thinks you're going to lose control, and he's ready to bring you back.

"Fuck, baby, I've got you." The pet name slips out quicker than he realises, but it feels good from him, earning a low whine to come from you.

It's sudden, but you love it; the word goes straight to your core shamefully. "I've got you-I've got you." Bob feels the rush of endorphins from it, the way he feels so trusted by you in his arms.

Your thighs tighten around him, trying to stop yourself from gyrating on top of him despite how tempting it is. He doesn't seem opposed to it; your bodies move to help you get better access to his neck, creating a gyrating movement that anyone who came in would see would be obvious, indicating that the two of you were making out.

There is something sensual building, unfamiliar, but it seems so normal for both of you, blossoming into something undeclared, personal.

Your mouth withdraws from his skin, a harsh, ragged exhale leaves you as if you've been choking down on air. Leaning over him, your faces are far closer than usual.

Bob works on instinct and does the unthinkable, his fingers tracing over your cheekbone, tucking back a piece behind your ear.

"You're so pretty," you whisper, like the two of you are sharing heartfelt secrets between one another. Your bloodied lips trace over his ear once more, and Bob finds himself struggling to breathe. "Such a pretty boy."

Bob groans louder than he expected, squeezing your hips, his legs tense and untense, trying to move you off his crotch as quickly as possible. The words hit him as if he were awaiting the waves to crash down on him; the suspense kills him, but he's more terrified of making the wrong move. He doesn't want to scare you off.

"You-you have no idea what you do to me." His voice comes out hoarse, deeper than expected, his blue eyes flash momentarily to a warm golden hue, then back to their usual.

You know he's nervous about engaging in something so new, balancing that with the possible fear that there might also be a part of him that is trying to make him feel the lowest.

Bob shakily exhales, pushing his face into your torso, hugging you a little tighter when he feels himself overworking his mind. That you're using him just for some sort of gain, the other part is certain you wouldn't be allowing him to do any of this with you.

'She thinks you're weak.' The Void speaks through him as if he's conversing with it, but Bob doesn't want to think of it. He wants to be enveloped in you, your warmth, your sunshine, not the darkness.

"Bob," you try to draw him out, trying to get him to look up at you, and it takes some prying before his eyes dart up to look at you. He's afraid, afraid he's messed things up, worsened the relationship or friendship between the two of you. "I'm here. You did such a good job."

"I did?" There is a light that comes from him when he hears it come directly from you. He peeks his head out a bit more, uncertain yet tentative.

"Always." You murmur, and the two of you spend some minutes just in each other's arms, telling him how proud you are of him, how good he is to you. He is silent in your arms, letting out small, exhales when he hears compliments come from you.

"You're too good for me." He says after some time, and it hurts to see him doubt himself. "I'm a mess."

"Sometimes that's what makes us us," you hum, stroking back his brown hair. "I wouldn't change you for anything."

The Golden Guardian, he is to some, but to you, he's just Bob, the Bob who makes you feel most like yourself, someone who didn't run away from you the moment they saw you.

Not the monster your parents had cast out so many years ago, selling you off to the military. He's your sanctuary, you're everything he wishes to worship.

"Let me get you cleaned up." You hop off him slowly, rising as you walk to the ensuite. You linger for a bit before disappearing, holding his hand to steady him, to help him through his breathing before he's sure he's okay.

"Sure-not going anywhere." Bob exhales, crashing backwards onto the sheets, trying to hide the obvious 'problem' that had grown in his sweatpants.

It's another two nights that pass before you see Bob's confidence begin to build. It's small, subtle, but there in the way he walks, how he talks to you and others. It's blinding, and you feel strangely clingy when you're not near him.

It's game night this time around in the Avengers' tower, pizza boxes strewn across the couch, beers and wine flowing as conversation comes easily, laughter too.

Music softly plays of some club song you've never heard of, watching in amusement as a drunk Alexei tries dancing in time to it, spurred on as he's cheered by almost everyone watching.

Yelena watches on in cringe, muttering as she looks anywhere but onwards, suddenly feeling that the music needs to be changed as she hurries off. The others cheer on as Alexei laughs with a bellowing roar, the beer in hand nearly spilling as he moves.

"What fun!" He's loud, louder than normal, your ears ring at the noises around you, but you feel your eyes drifting over Bob too many times to Bob.

He's been quiet, silent in his laughter as he observes everything around him, as he sips slowly at his Sprite. You're awestruck by him, so absorbed in staring at him, not feeling the couch dip on your right. Yelena has snuck her way to sit beside you, startling you as she whispers to you.

"You're drooling."

You react quickly, wiping your mouth to find nothing as Yelena laughs, watching the way you try to avoid her eyes and the attention of anyone else. "When were you going to tell me you and Bob were seeing each other?"

The music doesn't seem loud enough, and you wish to drown in it. You feel like people are staring, even when they're not. You downplay the situation as you nervously laugh, "What are you talking about, Lena?"

"I mean, when I saw Bob leave your room two nights ago."

The glass of wine almost crushes in your hand from how you're gripping it, your heart thrums uncontrollably. You're quiet for a second too long, and Yelena is given all the proof she needs that something is going on.

"It's cute," She whispers, ignoring the way you're trying to cover your face. Bob glances back at the two of you curiously, trying not to eavesdrop. "The two of you- so cute together."

"We're not-it's not-"

"You don't have to say anything, L/N," she winks, her smile wicked, "I know."

She's quickly gone before you can explain things, proclaiming that it was time to take Alexei back to his room before he does anything further embarrassing. You watch as it takes a team effort of Walker, Ava and Yelena to drag the larger Russian man out, laughing to yourself as you hear the mumbled struggles, Alexei slurring his words.

You snuggle into the couch, enjoying the silence after some time, a comfortable, not awkward one fills the air as you look up, seeing Bob shyly looking your way already.

"You want to join me?" You beckon him over as he stands from the beanbag, shuffling quietly in a pair of almost matching slippers you had bought for him when he said he wished he had a pair.

You both sit in silence again, listening to the sounds grow quieter, a hum of the kitchen light, a honk from a car outside. It's peace that you love sharing with Bob.

You put down your glass of red, head swimming with a need for a distraction, eyes trailing over Bob as if you're undressing him with your eyes. "Ready?" You ask when you're certain everyone is occupied.

Bob nods, placing his cup down, shuffling closer to you until you straddle him with ease. He takes it naturally, a long exhale leaves his lips as you feel bolder in teasing him, tracing your fangs lightly over his skin, feeling previous bites have slowly begun healing with time.

"Please, Y/N," he whines, and you hush him sweetly, taking your time with him. "I know, sweetie, I'm here for you." Your voice drops a bit lower, and you revel in sensing his heartbeat pick up faster when you move over him.

He's so obedient, and it makes your mind wander to how he would be as a partner. Your thighs clench, and you lean into his shoulder, relieving him of the wait.

He grunts, not as loudly as before, as you drink slowly from him, sensually, hips rolling as you're taken up in a lull. Your mind short-circuits, you forget where you are, so emboldened by him and his words of encouragement, his hands guiding you.

You shock him, though, when you press kisses into his neck, trailing up his jaw as you leave bloody kiss marks the higher you go. Bob stares up at you, mesmerised, licking his lips unintentionally to see your bloody mouth.

You can't stop yourself now, and the words that come next from you take you to the final step.

"Want a taste?"

Bob swallows thickly, eyes trailing from your mouth to your eyes, glowing, then back down to your lips. He's hungry in a way you don't think someone like him would be, but he's so sweet in how he pleads. Morbid curiosity has taken over, but he's aware of how you mean to let him taste his blood.

"Please-yes please." You don't know who leans in first, but lips envelop yours, soft and warm. Bob tastes the iron on his lips, strong, and he thinks that you must've turned him at some point-because why is he so obsessed?

Your kiss starts slowly, testing the waters as you pull back inches from him to gauge his reactions, smiling when he chases your lips before diving in for more.

You're so caught up in it all, kissing him, feeling him move beneath you, the way he whispers your name. He kisses you a bit harder now, his tongue swipes curiously over your bottom lip as he tastes a bit more, kissing openly and a little bit more brazenly.

The elevator rises slowly, neither of you noticing, hands touching in places as Bob feels over you tentatively, whispering that pet name you love oh-so-much.

The doors to the elevator chime open. Bucky is tired from a full day of meetings, talking to congress, and wishing for a drink and bed, turning on the light as he's in his own world-

"Oh, what the fuck!"

You pull off, leaning back onto the couch and off Bob slightly, when you hear the voice behind you. Bob still holds you, trying to shield himself as you watch Bucky with equal parts shock and annoyance.

"It's not what you think-"

"No, I'm just going to pretend I didn't walk in on this." Bucky sounds like a disappointed dad as he averts his gaze from the two of you.

The shock brings hurried footsteps to approach, Walker is the first to round the corner to the scene. "Oh fuck-What the fuck, Y/N?"

Ava and Yelena are making small murmurs as they look over it as well. Ava is like Bucky, looking the other way, but Yelena is smiling- fucking smiling- as she gives the thumbs up your way.

"I get you want to get in each other's pants," Walker continues, "but I didn't think I was going to walk in on you eating Bob!"

To them, it made sense that it looked like they walked in on a crime scene: Bob is covered in blood. His mouth, neck and most of his face are smeared. His hair is tousled beyond saving, his sweater is pulled and covered in blood. You've done terribly in trying not to stain the couch, but blood has splattered onto the pillows and blanket.

You try to explain yourself, but there is a noise that has entered the room that feels primal, sudden.

The growl to emit in the room does not come from you, and surprisingly, everyone turns their head directly to who is beneath you.

"Get out." Bob's voice is low, commanding, and it brings everyone in the room to feel a sense of apprehension. This doesn't sound like him; his voice is his own, but it holds power, strength.

The grip around your waist is hiding his excitement from the others, but it is possessive as he repeats the same words, louder this time, somewhat more demanding. "Get. Out."

Everyone moves as if on autopilot. Yelena and Ava scoop a confused Walker out of the room. Bucky shakes his head as he walks the other way down to his room. There is nothing said again from them as they leave the two of you in complete silence.

"Holy shit," you utter when there is no noise, no giggles, no words of astonishment. Looking down towards Bob, he's so caught up in being with you that he hasn't even clocked what happened. "That-that was hot."

Bob blushes as he pulls you down to his level, kissing you deeply to either occupy your thoughts with him again or to shut you up. You greedily kiss back, knowing the next day, breakfast will bring many questions and awkward 'birds and bees' conversations, but you don't care, not when you're with your Bob.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.82)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The first beach day of the season prompts both You and Tae to talk through some of your sadness. This time, you do something about it. "You’re so gentle. I don’t think you understand it.”

Tags: Trans! Tae, Dysphoria, talks of jealousy and love, top surgery/boob jobs, medical talk, talk of weight gain, body insecurity, body dysmorphia, crack, attempts at humor boobs, fingering, mild dirty talk, voyeurism, Talks of depression, mention of seizures but no seizures today, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, talk of marriage and wedding rings, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of past self-harm, mentions of ptsd, scars, this is the beach episode that all anime's have,

W/c: 20.6k

A/n: wow! this is the chapter that officially pushes us up and over the 1million words mark of this story! i hope that everyone has enjoyed the ride so far, it feels so satisfying to get to the end of tae's arc after all this time <3 i really enjoyed writing this even if it took me a bit longer to get here. please tell me what you think of it and if you like it lol.

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

Summer comes, polishing its rusty claws.

It’s easy to feel daunted by the change in season, it always makes you feel like you’re running out of time. But change doesn’t always bring bad things. Scary Things? Sure. But alot of change is necessary, even if it's scary at first.

The date is June 1, and the change in weather is welcome. An early warm spell sends the pack scrambling to set up the outdoor furniture, cutting up watermelon after watermelon and strawberry over strawberry.

Jimin gifts Tae a new outdoor settee with a thick pink cushion and woven rattan back, dotted with swans and flowers. You and Tae tear through your sundress collection and keep your favorites on rotation. matching most days and color cordinating. You wear yellow on monday and pink on wednesday. Sometimes when Namjoon asks, you wear blue.

Hobi's sprouts come up on the windowsill and Yoongi makes him a set of four raised garden beds out front for green onions and parsley. the tomatoes that are green and small now will get a little out of control by the end of the summer.

Sort of like the roses. They heap over the rock wall. Wild and untamed and beautiful. Hobi can't bear the idea of cutting them back or even propping them up with a trellis.

But Picking the flowers for you and Tae however- that is something that Hobi can stomach.

Jungkook is perpetually empty from the nest from the hours of 6am to 9am. Intent on using as much sunlight as possible to take his ridiculous 12-mile runs. Sometimes when he feels like going slow, you go with him. He has this stupid dream of running a 5k with you (and you are unfortunately prone to indulging his stupid dreams). Even if he spends half of your morning walks teasing you for your slow pace.

You can only run like 50 feet without getting too out of breath to continue. But every day you go a little farther. Run a little longer. change is funny like that- it creeps up on you.

"Did Yoongi's mating mark make you like- more like a cat?"

"That's a really nice way of calling me lazy" you tease. Jungkook just grins. Both of your hands are sweaty and swinging between you. You have too many questions for him. “Why do you even like running anyway? Why do you want to run with me? Wouldn't it be faster if you went alone? You could run a marathon like tomorrow if you wanted.”

“Yeah, but it would be different if it was with you and I ran my first marathon when I was 20 before I even met Jimin and Tae. They're fun but only if you do it with a ton of people.” he looks down at your feet.

"When those wear out we should get matching sneakers."

"Can mine be pink?"

"Only if mine are purple."

"Deal."

When you do leave with Jungkook you always come home to Namjoon sitting on the front porch reclining in Tae's pink settee, reading and sipping his coffee. The curious chickadees twittering around you a gentle giant of a pack alpha.

Namjoon’s hair has started to go truly salt and pepper. Probably from the stress of the last year. You try to count them all one evening sprawled in the living room, spirited away playing on the TV, Namjoon on the floor sitting between your legs. He lets out a groan and tells you to stop when you get to 100.

“We could always dye it you know? You don’t need to go grey if you don’t want to. Jimin's pink for Christ's sake-” Jimin had perked up from the dining room chair, fresh dye dotting his hairline like the roses dot the rock wall outside. (And most of the windowsills since Hobi likes to pick the roses and bring them inside.)

"Yeah hyung, go pink with me! you're practically a blank canvas" Tae hums from behind Jimin, smiling down at him as she mixes a fresh bowl full of fuchsia.

Namjoon peers at the back of his head with the handheld mirror. He catches your love-struck look as you gently thread your fingers through his nape, your soft smile.

“No. It's okay.” He says. Contemplative. Even though you tell him that Tae dyes her hair so much that she has no idea when she’s going to go grey or if she’ll even ever really notice.

(Jin shaves Namjoon's hair later that week, going short for the heat and summer. And you and Jimin perpetually rub his spiky short hair, a bit obsessed with how sensory it is until he tells you to stop).

But this is how summer with the pack goes. Warm nights spent at your favorite spot and hamburgers and French fries. There are people to call, and things to orchestrate. Jin’s been going a little insane since quitting his job with the FBI, and the warm weather only makes him more prone to fussing. You hardly survived the post-heat spring cleaning.

More than once this spring Jin has demanded that Jungkook actually be hosed down outside after one of his runs turned him muddy and sweaty. Sometimes, Jin does the same with Hobi if he gets particularly grimy taming the garden. The veggies and the Roses. The walks and slow evenings. Life with the pack goes like this; a little lazy, a little busy chasing everyone around and keeping it together.

The garden grows. The sweet lemony lemony-smelling French doubles fill the yard with their scent and Red David Austins dot the fence in the corner like red stars. White fragrant French cups drape up and over the stone.

Hobi likes to pick them in the early morning, right as he has his first cup of coffee. Someone else is inside is getting you yours, or maybe you and Tae are changing for the pack's beach day. You both looked sleepy and draped all over each other when Hobi last saw you. Trailing after Jin who was already griping about the UV index as he and Tae led you in the direction of the dressing room to pick out your bikini for the day.

His careful fingers are mindful of thorns as he snips them free of the bush. A morning dove coos in the middle of the cul de sack, and Noodle meows from around his ankles guarding the alpha’s coffee (and occasionally sneaking sips. Especially if Hobi's used half and half). His baby blue cup rests in the grass slightly overgrown because Hobi is ever mindful of the pollinators.

He has a few blooms in his hands, mainly the pink ones. Hobi offers one to Noodle, crouching on creaky knees, letting the cat smell. Pushing his whiskers past the first row of petals. Purring loudly.

“What do you say Nu? Should we head inside and see if the girls like them?”

The door creaks and Hobi's coffee cup dangles from one pinky, empty. Three brightly colored beach bags wait by the door clogging the doorway and stopping Hobi from being able to open it all the way. They're piled high with towels, chip bags, and enough sunscreen to cover a small parking lot. Your and Tae's dresses are draped over the back of the couch, colorful and long patchwork spilling half onto the floor. A river of multi-colored floral squares.

Hobi can be forgiven for not immediately realizing what he’s watching.

You’re up on the counter and the bikini you wear is small, a bit too small. The red string at the back tied in a bow. One of Tae's hands tangle in it. Winding the red strand over her knuckles, back and forth between her fingers. Your bare back and your dimples are on display- distracting Hobi from what’s going on at your front. 

There’s just a lot of skin on display is all, and not much clothes. Hobi can handle it. Like a gentleman.  He restrains his imagination. Reminding himself that he's allowed to look, that he's not being creepy. But still- he's a little happy that Tae seems to be too busy whispering something to you from between your legs to notice Hobi's eyes trailing up your back.  

She's got one hand on your hip, digging into the alluring cleft where hip meets torso, the other concealed by your bodies.

You’d think he’d be used to it- you and Tae lounging around in little to nothing. Tae's gauzy collection of night dresses, or your spread of mini sleep shorts- but the mini bikini seems extra extra mini today. The thread-narrow straps and small red triangles do little to conceal your body and how it swells. 

Your milk had tapered off after the first few weeks of your heat but the swelling has been slow to go down.  That coupled with a little bit of post-heat indulgence and doting has left your body round and supple in a way that the alphas just devour. Hobi knows you've complained more than once about the newfound back aches and the new stretch marks and he sympathizes he really does but-

But fuck.

You sort of look like something off the cover of one of those vintage Playboy magazines that Tae pretends she likes for 'aesthetic reasons'. Not that Hobi judges. Hobi understands why tae's a little obsessed with them. Your chest is sort of a wet dream.

The whole pack is a lot obsessed with them.

Hobi thinks you're just kissing until You tip your head back and moan, and he almost trips over the corner of the carpet.

“Oh? You're-” Hobi's throat goes dry.

Tae picks her head up from where it was buried in your hair and laughs. Showing her canines, eyes bright and mischievous.

Her hand keeps moving between your thighs. When you try to close your legs, Tae's other hand grabs your knee and pushes them open. She does it like she hardly notices you squirming away or your sudden shyness.

Your scar shines silvery. Hobi hardly notices it. Eyes flicking down to it, to where tae grips your hip, fingers dimpling. Hardly catching the half-frantic glance you send over your shoulder at him. Caught.

Tae bites into the skin of your shoulder, so quick that Hobi almost misses it, directing your attention back to her with a jolt. It's a light correction, a playful one. There are other bruises and evidence of the pack's loving on your body too, a hickey under your jaw that hobi's pretty sure is from him. Others on the inside of your thighs from Jimin, And even more along the line of the bikini.

Jungkook has this funny habit of leaving bruises in the shape of a heart. Tilting his neck so that his hickeys make a pattern.

It's nothing Hobi hasn't seen before. This kind of thing is sort of routine for the pack. Yesterday he found Jungkook and Yoongi fucking in the sunroom, and the morning before that Hobi walked in on Jimin and Namjoon in the upstairs bathroom having some sort of staring match as Jin showered. Both of them hard and pretending they weren't.

And the day before that Tae had walked in on you and Hobi and Yoongi being…a little bit ridiculous on the front porch. Doing some all too public heavy petting that the pack alpha and pack omega would surely disapprove of if they found out.

It's not the first time Hobi has kept your secrets.

The last time Hobi saw Tae finger you, you were at the kitchen table (three mornings ago) but Hobi can't say it's not a welcome surprise. Your squirming is all you can do to keep the pack's pawing at bay when you're like this.

Tae grins, Drinking in Hobi's blush like it's strawberry lemonade. She doesn’t slow her pace at all. Two fingers or three? Her hand works in between your tights as you sag against her front, boneless. Giving in to the fact that you have an audience and Tae doesn't have any plans of stopping. Her wrist crooks to find the angle that makes your toes curl and Hobi sees it on your face the moment she finds that little spot that makes you clench extra hard.

Upstairs, Jungkook laughs loudly. Someone or something crashes into a door or a wall hard enough to make the windows in the kitchen rattle. Probably Jimin and Jungkook chasing each other around, zoomies that are sure to get worse when they get to the beach.

“Guys” Jin’s stressed tone sounds and Namjoon’s deep baritone says something in response. Too low to hear. Distracting the pack omega so that the pups can be pups. Who knows where Yoongi is, probably tightening down a screw or a loose nail or something.

Hobi smirks, kicking a hip up against the counter after refilling his coffee. Settling in to watch. The roses are forgotten about, discarded on the counter where they glimmer, going withy.

Hobi sips his coffee. Making eye contact with you over Tae's shoulder. And you blush furiously at the blatant way his eyes flicker from your face to your chest to between your legs.

"Do you-" you breathe heavily, cheek resting against Tae's arm, scrambling to paw at her hand when she crooks her fingers a little deeper, petting insistently in and in. Your bikini bottom is pushed to the side, leaving a little trickle of slick on the counter. The dewy and delicious parts of you are hardly hidden by Tae's wrist. A delighted growl-pur builds in Hobi's chest at the sight.

"Do you have to watch?" Your voice goes breath as Tae changes the angle of her hand and you throw your head back, but Hobi doesn't even blink.

"I'm quite enjoying my view thank you very much." He teases. "a settling?" He asks, taking in your dazed expression and the way you cling to her.

"Hole check." Tae quips, her tone vaguely endeared, like Jin's hole checks aren't the pack's favorite form of entertainment when it comes to teasing you and keeping you settled. Hobi's seen you get them just about everywhere; in the shower, bent over the arm of the couch. Or jin's favorite- sprawled over his lap in the nest before bed, usually post knotting.

You hiccup and paw at her wrist, but she just keeps going.

Tae growls, deep and pleased. There must be something with her instincts today, something setting her on edge. Maybe it's just the sight of you in that itty bitty bikini, a size too small for your new healthy body that spills out around its edges. Fuck- girls are so-

Hobi's grip goes white-knuckled on his coffee, and Tae shifts to the side so that Hobi can see. You duck forward into her chest overwhelmed nuzzling the faint fat there. You want to suck. To keep something in your mouth to keep the moans at bay.

You’d woken up a little bit soft-minded, a little bit more laconic than usual. Yoongi wrapped around your shoulders and Jungkook nuzzling somewhere around your stomach. No one was too surprised that it had been hard to wake you up.

It’s no wonder that Tae- usually more prone to being riled up by you in omegspace, had taken the way you’d trailed after her as something of an invitation.

You’re not wearing one of your bikini no- Hobi is intimately familiar with those (on account of how much you’ve both used the upstairs hot tub this spring) this red one is Tae's. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue but-

Tae's chest is not the same size as yours, especially not after your heat- whereas this bikini fits Tae perfectly- on you- it’s a little small.

Hobi can’t stop looking at your sternum, can't stop looking at you. the rest of the day is going to be torture. everything about you distracts him- the chub at the side of the red triangles, that freckle between your chest- all of it.

Tae grins at him like she knows and that's why she chose it, her cheek resting on the top of your head, smiling gently like she’s not knuckle deep in your pussy. Your bikini bottom is pushed to the side darkening to a faint maroon.

Her hand keeps moving, nudging sweet little sounds from you. Her hands are glossy to the knuckle and you know you’re leaking onto the kitchen counter (not that it hasn’t seen worse) you bury your nose in her throat, and let out these little huffs, and tae's hand slips under the side of your bikini to feel the flutter of your heart.

or just feel you up a bit. Her squeezes are appreciative and surprisingly tender.

Ah, fuck.

Hobi crosses his arms and sips at his coffee. You make eye contact with him and then shy away, hiding your moans in Tae's shoulder. Tae's bikini is dotted with small flowers, white on top and pink on the bottom.

Her chestnut hair is extra curly- Hobi doesn’t know why she bothered with the rollers when any effort that she puts into her hair will be damaged by the salt water later but still. It spills over her shoulders in pretty waves. She’s still wearing a clip at the nape of her neck, Hobi darts forward to take it out as you let out high-pitched ‘ah- ah- ah's

“Yah guys! Not in the kitchen! We eat here.” Jin already has a healthy glob of sunscreen covering both his cheeks, depositing yet another beach bag by the front with a loud and uncermous thud as he catches sight of what you and tae and now hobi are doing in the kitchen.

You can tell by the brief glance you cast over Tae's shoulder that he was planning on hassling you to get some sunscreen on too, a task now forgotten.

Tae cocks an eyebrow at Jin, and her fingering goes a little stronger, she picks up one of your legs hips splaying wider, showng jin too. "Yeah? I eat here too."

Jin huffs, half laughing. Hobi snorts into his coffee. "You're unbelievable."

“Just one sec, she’s almost there.”

You hide your face in Tae's shoulder, blushing furiously at the casual way she says it, all but pawing at her. Your fingers dig into her arm, the delicate bracelets on her wrists jingle and she crooks her fingers right there.

“You’re just gonna stand there? Your bathing suit is still upstairs?”

Tae grins at Hobi, pressing her thumb against your clit in the way that makes you squeal. All but ignoring your predicament. Hobi knows you like it when your pleasure is treated as routine, as something casual. Hardly worth mentioning or acting up over. They could make you cum over breakfast and then in the car and it would just be taking care of you. they'd decide and you'd take it. 

“And what? Miss the show?”

Jin sighs and forces you to untuck your head from her shoulder. "you have until she cums before I make you go upstairs and change baby."

"But-"

"No buts." you bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. Eyes dazed and foggy, completely small underneath their attention. “Pretty little thing,” Jin comments, eyes dark. Tae's hips shift ever so slightly. Like she’s supremely aware of the pack omega so close behind her.  And Jin’s hand crests your knee and your ankle, holding you open so that Tae can continue.

“Close your eyes pup,” You moan through it, Jin spreading a generous layer of sunscreen on your cheeks as Tae's hand works, turning your bathing suit dewy, wet, and messy.

You whine, high-pitched quiet. Jimin trips over the carpet in the main room same as Hobi, eyes flicking from Tae's hands to you then back again. “Oh, I- oh”

Hobi takes another swallow of his coffee, "yeah, oh" Hobi watches Jimin's eyes flicker from your pussy, to the wet countertop below.

Jimin's been being…a bit weird about your slick since your heat. A little bit less likely to reach out to you, to touch you. Like he’s too mindful of his own desires (or of triggering an early rut, Jimin is sort of due for one just like Hobi- he can feel it, an itch under his skin sometimes that threatens to build). But still unable to stop the almost magnetic draw to you in the evenings when the night falls and the hours grow slow.

He hasn’t exactly been obsessed with your pussy since your heat, but to say there's have barely been a 2-day span where Jimin hasn’t sought you out would be true. There's hardly been an evening that he hasn’t folded himself close in the nest and shuffled up behind you. Needy and a bit hard already at just the thought of asking. It's hard to pretend like he hasn’t sat next to you at every available opportunity. That Jimin hasn't trailed behind you and Tae or closed the door to the library room when Tae decides she needs some 'personal reenactment' for a chapter in her book.

Hobi doesn't blame Jimin for being pussy whipped. Hell- all of them are a little obsessed with it. He's heard Namjoon and Jin talking about it, late at night when they think no one is awake.

"The doctor did say that we should be careful. About her slick and us alpha's."

"Do you think they could get like- dependant on it?"

"I think it's only an issue if the pup says it is." Jin had snorted, and the sound of lips connecting had slightly woken Hobi from sleep. Wet and messy kisses getting messier by the second.

"If Minnie wants help, he'll come to us."

Hobi sort of wonders if this is like that, if Tae is like that with you, either addicted or dependent on it and that's why she's fingering you on the kitchen counter. Watching as you paw at Tae's wrist as it starts to become too much, moaning against her throat as she stalwartly continues to rub up against the spongy part of you.

Hobi could tell you the exact moment that she tips you over the edge. Fingers reaching just a bit deeper in almost a petting motion. Hobi laughs, and your squirming goes a little overstimulated, trying to pull back, gripping Tae's wrist with a choked-off moan. But Tae won't stop until you actually start to tremble.

Your body seizes and then relaxes, and you cling to her, sighing, burying your face in her neck to hide from the others who shuffle around the kitchen. Yoongi barely pauses to dot a kiss on your forehead before he gets the cut-up watermelon out of the freezer and asks Jimin to carry the cooler up from the basement. The others continue to chatter.

"Did you grab the lemonade?"

"Yes!" Jungkook bounces around the kitchen, already with so much energy even though he's had no caffeine.

"And the liquid iv?"

"Yes hyung- yes, come on- the tide is changing and I wanna make sure we have high tide for body surfing-"

"Wait Yoongi- could you check the oil in Hobi's car-" 

"I checked it two days ago." Hobi puts his empty coffee cup in the sink.

"Before or after you and the pup took it out? I know how you drive baby."

That makes Hobi blush, it’s as gentle of a scolding as Jin is capable of giving, "Hyung-"

"Go change pup."

Hobi sighs and follows the pack omega's instructions. Tae keeps her fingers inside of you until you’ve had the chance to come down all the way, until your breathing has gone heavy and you blink up at her, feeling a little hazy. She grins and kisses you on the nose. She takes her fingers out with a faint squelch, wiping them on a kitchen towel before she gently puts your bikini back in place. You whine and squirm.

Namjoon comes down the stairs, nostrils flaring, looking up at you and Tae, you’re a bit debauched, but Jin continues rubbing sunscreen onto your cheeks, switching to Tae's after a second. “Are you guys ugh- ready to go?”

Tae shuffles away with a lazy grin. You blink at her like you're half surprised that she's left you alone on the counter. She asks for it, and Jimin hands her both of your dresses, she pulls her dress over her head and sets yours on the counter.

“Hold on, one sec,” Tae fixes your bikini bottom, putting it back in place before dropping to one knee. Your hand goes into her hair, tugging and blushing furiously as she does. Trying to pull her back up as the whole pack watches her press a kiss over your pussy lips, the wet fabric of your bottom clinging to them, showing everything. Every ridge and dip.

Tae doesn't lick or nibble. She just kisses your wet spot and pops up onto her feet with a grin, hair bouncing,

“There we go, ready!”

~-~

It’s an uncommonly hot day for June. The seagulls turn slowly in a circle, like one big mobile buffered by the gentle ocean breeze. Even the screaming children feel quiet, dampened by the sound of the ocean waves roaring.

You almost bump into Jungkook as he helps unload the car, a brightly colored beach bag under either arm. Shirt already off and looking drippy and boyish in the summer sunshine, romantic looking in a way that only Jungkook can gring. He grins, his tousled hair just so before he ducks down to peck your forehead and dance around you.

You sway in the sunlight like a reed before toppling back into the passenger seat.

Hobi leans low, hands balanced on the hot metal roof of the car. Eyeing you over the rim of his dark sunglasses. A little worried. The others dart around both of you. Getting the bags, the cooler, the umbrella from the cars.

“You okay?” He asks and you fiddle with the ribbon on your sunhat, not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say after a second. You'd spent the whole car ride staring out the half-cracked window, eyelashes catching the wind. Hair going tangly until Tae leaned forward from the backseat to put it up for you in a claw clip.

The rendezvous earlier hadn't woken you up, not like they'd hoped, not at all. Hobi looks at you for another long moment before saying, “okay, I’m going to believe that until you tell me otherwise alright?”

“Alright.” You say, trying to convince yourself to smile. It’s easy when Hobi is looking at you like that. It's a nice day, you should enjoy it without worrying.

But the worry is hard to let go of.

Jin's endless chatter is the companion to your quiet. "Joonie- did we pack the watermelon? Did anyone see my SPF 70? Jungkook- do not run down the stairs, you remember what happened when you slipped and you skinned your knee? that goes the same for you too Hobi! Yoongi did you remember your sun top? Where did I put my sunglasses- thank you, baby.” Yoongi hands them over, dark hair glistening shiny, and healthy under the sun.

Tae wears a big pink sunhat and you wear a black one, sparing your shoulders from the sun, although they’ve been dotted and smeared with sunscreen too. Although the pack omega made each and every one of you line up for another layer of sunscreen and morning kisses before getting into the car you know today will leave you with tan lines no matter how many times Jin asks you to re-apply.

Especially when it comes to swimming.

The ocean hovers, stretching to the end of the world. The tide is still high but turning. A storm surge from a few days back has left even the waves aggressive at low tide. “Buddy system- Jungkook, you’re not allowed to go out on your-” Jungkook ignores Jin’s griping, dashing out into the hot sand. Jimin and Hobi and Tae hot on his heels.

The pack files down the steps, toting woven chairs and tasseled umbrellas, Yoongi’s face looks several shades lighter than normal from the sheer amount of sunscreen that he’s applied. He grumbles and hugs a big 2-gallon jug of water and lemon slices to his chest. But Jin is a professional. Each of them hold one fishing rod a peice, a small tackle box between the two of them is all that they need.

From the bottom of the steps, Namjoon waits.

He smiles up at you. You’re taking the steps slowly, one at a time in your squeaky plastic flip-flops hugging the big woven beach blanket to your chest. Jungkook Jimin and Hobi are already chasing each other across the sand, halfway to the ocean. You watch Jungkook dive, all but tackling Jimin up and over the dunes, Hobi valiantly comes to the other alpha’s rescue, but it’s no use, the three of them go rolling and tumbling. You can see the sand in Jungkook’s dark hair from here.

Namjoon smiles at you from the bottom steps, switching from holding the packs cooler with two hands to one, he offers you his hand wordlessly tugging the cooler behind him while you walk. Waiting for you to take off your flip-flops and hook them through his fingers so that you don't have to hold them.

Namjoon and you trail behind, the pack alpha going slow for you. Your hat nudges his shoulder. Yoongi and Jin walk a few paces ahead, bickering like an old married couple about the place you'll set up shop, matching rings on their fingers, bound between the two of them even if they’re both carrying too much. They still hold hands.

The rings are a new development, simple silver bands for the two of them, a tiny diamond on Jin's. You don’t know when it exactly started to come up in conversation (shortly after you'd drunkenly announced that you wanted to marry Tae maybe, although that was months ago at this point) but somewhere along the last 4 months, they've both started to wear them every day. One morning you’d woken up to Yoongi grumbling about ring sizes, that all the nitrogen from the day before was making his fingers feel too swollen for it.

You're hardly surprised.

They’re just testing it out, just making sure to see if they even like wearing them. Is it even a real marriage if they haven't filled out the paperwork and don't want to do anything like a ceremony? Does starting to wear rings even matter when Yoongi and Jin have already been semi-married in everything but paperwork for nearly all of their adult lives?

You’d known sort of from the beginning that Yoongi had always planned on marrying Jin, regardless of the mating mark. Maybe it would bother you more if you weren't fully planning on marrying Tae one day.

But with that you're going slow. Like today, you're in no rush.

Just like you plan on marrying Tae, just like you're sort of already mated to Hobi- regardless of the fact that you'll never bite him and he'll never be able to bite you. The feelings are still there.

You’d talked about it with Yoongi shortly after your heat. Alone, just the two of you cuddled up together late one night in the nesting pod after a bit of pack revelry. you can still hear everyone upstairs if you listen hard enough, spilling from the upstairs windows. The windows open to allow in a stray sun-warmed breeze. The weather shifting, the season changing and another summer is on its way.

"It feels like something I need to do before I finish the house. You know? Like it doesn't make sense to finish the house and not be married to Jin inside of it."

"This sort of feels like you're breaking up with me."

Yoongi had rushed to reassure you before he'd clocked your teasing expression. that really- you were just joking. he'd bent over you, and you'd put your foot flat to his stomach and pushed playful. A little tipsy, a little silly.

"Does that mean i can ask you out again if we're broken up?"

"Why don't you ask your husband first!"

It’s hard to believe that it’s been a full year since the pack moved in and yet, the empty champagne bottles on the floor linger gathering condensation. Tae had pushed you to celebrate it. The house is almost nearly complete too- there are only a dozen or so odd tasks that Yoongi has yet to do, picking a color for the exterior of the house being one of them.

They linger on the edge of his to-do list, so unimportant when it comes to the regular responsibilities of the pack beta. Like taking Jungkook to work, cooking dinner and doing the shopping, taking Noodle to his vet and grooming appointments, and picking Namjoon up after his night shifts (of which there are thankfully few).

And edit Tae's novel.

It’s almost complete but in need of serious serious review. She’d asked you first, but you’d read it, cried, and deemed it a complete masterpiece a welcome compliment but not exactly what she’d been looking for. Tae's sensitive heart cannot take much criticism, especially for something so close to her soul. But Yoongi and Jin are gentle enough.

Jimin, Namjoon, and Hobi had all asked to read it as well. And had whined and tried to barter when she told them that they'd need to wait to read the finished product.

You have a feeling that might have to do with the main character and the love interest. The love interest is a bit of all of them- although you confess you can’t read it without picturing Hobi or Jungkook in their slot.

But for today everything can wait. Editing books and chapters. Words and confessions. Everything can wait in the wake of a beach day. It's so rare that no one has to work, on a weekday no less. Jimin’s off from his bodyguarding, Jungkook doesn’t have another client or class scheduled until two days from now, and Namjoon’s next day of work isn’t until then either. You guess it’s just really you, Jin, Tae, and Yoongi who are regularly without anything to do these days.

Although that might be changing soon.

You’d submitted your application over a month ago, and yet, there has been nothing, no rejection or confirmation. No nothing. Although you’ve gone out and gotten the mail every morning without fail. Hobi is always reassuring you that there is still time, and that even if you don’t get in this cycle there’s always next semester.

Yeah, you’d taken his advice and applied for culinary school. You talk through it all the time, late at night on a drive, over lunch when you bring it to the flower shop after he forgets it at home again, after Jungkook's early morning walk/runs.

“As much as I hate to point it out but becoming a baker will mean that you’ll have to wake up like- really early every day. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

You’d whined and flopped down into the nest on top of Hobi, shuffling to the side to get your body all aligned up against the pack omega. Still Half-asleep, glasses askew, Yoongi already carrying three cups of coffee up the stairs, steaming good.

“I know- I know," Although the rest of the pack defaults to being encouraging, Hobi is the only one who asks questions like this. "I don’t know if I’m like- so focused on the results or that I just want to go to school in general but-"

He'd grinned at you. "You want it too bad for it to matter."

"Yeah…I think I do. Even if I don't even like do anything with it after. It would be nice to like- understand why I can't make a fucking souffle."

"You're the shame of the regimen."

"What do your superiors do with you." (Tae made you watch Pride and Prejudice again a week ago and you've been quoting it back and forth since then.)

Wanting something enough to try for it is strange for you. It feels strange to have a dream after so many years of straight survival. But the pack isn’t really hurting for money these days, what with your old penthouse sold to the highest bidder and the dizzying sum put into stocks and bonds that pay out at regular intervals.

It's more than enough to make your taxes and utilities and even have a good bit left over at the end of every month. You're not really involved with it, Jin and Yoongi handled all of it. The sale, the business with the realtor, and property in Manhattan always goes for a lot, even with a burnt-up top floor.

It's a strange thing, but you honestly don’t even have to think about money anymore. No one in the pack does.

Although that’s not what’s making you quiet.

Your slowness right now has nothing to do with your and Tae's rendezvous earlier. If anything, you might be worse if it wasn't for her. You have that vaguely disgruntled look that Jimin gets when he's overstimulated today. Like your skin isn't fitting right, or your hair is pressing in from all sides. It's not overstimulation- not exactly.

Your thoughts are still somewhere too slow for summertime. Dripping and melting slowly like ice cream. By the time you get over the hill, Hobi is wearing Tae's sunhat and Jimin is holding her flip-flops. Jungkook is walking backward several paces in front of them. Saying something that makes Jimin throw one of Tae's flip-flops at him.

Jungkook takes it and runs. Tae's pink sunhat goes fluttering in the breeze and the three of them chase after him until they drop their towels and bags in a spot that Jin and Yoongi deem alright enough and continue their pell-mell puppy tumble to the ocean, Tae's pink flipflop nearly gets taken by the sea but Jungkook dives for it.

"Help me set up the umbrella?" Yoongi asks, touching your arm gently. You nod, happy to have some shade in the bleeding sunlight. You hold it still while Jin fluffs out the beach blanket and Namjoon sets up the chairs, and when you're finished and Namjoon sits in the camping chair, Jin and Yoongi meander their way towards the shoreline, still holding hands both of them covered to the wrist.

"They look like a pair of grandmas."

Namjoon looks up at Yoongi and Jin and grins, "Yeah they do."

You plop down on the blanket just next to him and Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure you don't want a chair?"

"I'm sure."

Namjoon spends a long moment looking at you, but you're not paying attention to him. You watch Jimin spin Tae in the sea spray, her dress twirling with him, she holds around his neck until he puts her down, pulling her dress over her shoulders too. Jimin runs it back to your things, grinning at you and ducking low to kiss your forehead then Joonie’s mouth.

You still watch Tae, mouth a little turned down as you watch her. taking in the way her shoulders hunch, the way she looks down at her body and then up at Jimin.

Joonie makes a noise and Jimin ruffles his buzz cut before darting back to Tae with a giggle. you watch tae straighten up before he gets back over to her. The pack alpha shakes his head. Tae has crossed her arms over her chest, but she’s still smiling at Jimin.

Tae has always been better than you are at pretending that nothing is wrong.

The ocean is speckled with people, brightly colored swimsuits, and beachballs. You’re glad you came on a weekday because there aren't too many people here. It's not crowded. From a distance, the Ferris wheel turns slow and when you listen you can almost hear the Jingle of the carousel mixing with the screech of the gulls.

You know that later there will be fried dough and milkshakes up on the pier and a walk on the boardwalk later. You should be more excited for that, you love fried dough and you’ve been meaning to try and make your own for the longest time.

Jin is quick to call Jungkook and Jimin back for more sunscreen and to take off his clothes before he gets them wet. Really he's getting a little ridiculous with it. Jungkook and Jimin strip the rest of their clothes until there's little left beyond a tiny red Speedo.

It causes more than a few groans. Your mate looks away, laughs, then looks back.  "Jungkook-" "Really Koo-"

"What? I wanted to match the pup!" That actually gets a laugh out of you. You touch his knee and Jungkook smiles down at you, winks, and bounds off in the direction of Tae and Jimin. 

Tae looks gorgeous running through the water, her hair quickly during dark from the salt water. Both of them tug your mate into the water when he dares to come too close and it's seconds before Yoongi sinks a Jungkook-shaped necklace wrapped around his shoulders to pull him to sea. Yoongi puts up a valiant fight you can hear his "yah!" from here.

Jimin isn’t far behind. Getting more than a few looks as he wets his hair and flips in back. You find it hard to look at Jimin and Tae actually. Flustered. Hobi is already 50 feet down the beach, head lowered to look for things that have washed up. Headphones barely visible at this distance. You didn’t want to walk down the beach today with him, too tired.

And it’s so hot.

You sigh, Namjoon is already flipping through his book (fiction for a change- probably one of Tae's recommendations if you had to guess from the ballgown on the front.) You watch as Hobi becomes a dot on the horizon.

You sort of wish that you’d gone with him after a few minutes. You alternate between watching him become smaller and smaller, and watching Tae, Jungkook, and Jimin roughhouse in the water while Yoongi and Jin stand in knee-high waves, keeping an eye on them and talking. Still holding hands. Mostly just making sure nothing happens.

You know the pack is always worried, always just a little bit extra watchful of Jungkook on beach days. It’s always a risk, having him go out and swim. But someone's always nearby. If anything happened, if he started having a seizure, the rest of the pack wouldn’t be that far away. He's never had a seizure in the water before but it's always a risk. Jungkook doesn't act like he's nervous whatsoever, pushing off from the bottom when the big waves come and diving where they break, cutting through the water like it's effortless.

You feel a little too tired to share in their worry today.

The pack has picked up on it of course, that there is something wrong with you today. That something is turning you quiet and a little bit grumpy. There are only so many forehead kisses and reassurances that they you can give before you sort of have to come to them for help. Tae at least had tried this morning. And while you hadn’t not enjoyed your rendezvous…

Namjoon opens up the cooler. Offering you a piece of watermelon. You decline it.

“Do you want some water?”

“No Joonie.” You cover your feet with sand. Wiggling your bright red toes up through it before covering them again.

"How about an ice cream?”

You snort. “It’s not even noon.” You find a little pink shell in the sand, sun-bleached, and you balance it on Namjoon's knee. The pack alpha watches you line it up with others you find searching through the sand. You'll show Hobi when he gets back.

“I won't tell Jin if you don't, we could walk and get some for everyone?” he offers. Folding his book to the side. Index finger keeping his place.

“They’d melt and I’m still full of breakfast.” Hobi had made French toast this morning, sticky and yummy and melty with how good it was. Your lips are stuck in a pout, and you school your expression into something neutral the second you realize.

Namjoon gets barely another paragraph under his belt before he's trying again. “Are you sure you don’t want to join the others in the water?”

“No Joonie,” You nudge his novel with your elbow, “Read your book.”

“We could get you some lemonade or something else from the boardwalk? It’s kind of hot out you know, you should be careful of heatstroke.”

“Joonie-”

“Pup.”

Namjoon folds his book in half again, raising an eyebrow at you. You know he’s asking you to tell you what’s wrong without actually doing it. An invitation if ever there was one.

The cool ocean breeze tickles your forehead comforting. “Do you wanna tell me why you’re a little grumpy this morning, or do you want me to wait until noon until I start to actually try and cheer you up?”

"You are cheering me up."

A look at your phone tells you noon is about 40 minutes away, and the temptation to wallow is there but-

You pull up the hem of your long skirt. Green and yellow and embroidered, Tae got it for you special just for today, it was wrapped in gauzy paper this morning at the end of the settee in the dressing room. One for herself already hanging in your shared closet. You like matching with Tae- you always do, but-

She looked so good in hers, and you couldn’t help but feel like it didn’t look the same on you- your legs too short and stubby, your arms, just a little too pudgy when you turn to the side. You don't pick yourself apart in the mirror nearly as bad as you used to. And it's stupid, because you know she probably thought the exact opposite about how it fit you. You’d seen it just briefly, the way that her eyes had fixated on your chest and then quickly looked away.

You don’t make Tae feel dysphoric often but you hate it when you do.

She'd noticed you noticing, and then in the best way she knew how she'd distracted you from your own feelings and let you know just how delectable she found you in your bikini and dragged you downstairs into the kitchen-

Ugh, today might be a good day if you could only get over it. You might be happy to spend it here, lounging with the pack alpha but it’s also a bad day too.

You kneed the sand with your feet. And Namjoon waits for you to speak, recognizing that you’re working through it. You bury your head in your knees, skin pressed to skin, holding around your calves tight.

"I thought I’d have more time, when the weather started to change and Tae and I started looking at bikinis. All of them were just so small and I’m so big now.”

“Pup, you’re perfect,” You can tell Namjoon means it.

“I know, I just want to feel more comfortable.” you say it like you don’t really believe it. Steamrolling past the pack alpha before he has a chance to argue with you. To pry. “I ordered a one-piece and I know that but-” you tug your knees to your chest, feet sandy, flipflops discarded. Pink. Tae's matching ones are a few sizes larger and not far, resting in the sand.

“But I also don’t want anyone to look at the scars on my back.”

A gull squawks and Jungkook giggles as he gets up on Jin's shoulders. tae is already perched on Jimin's, playing a game of chicken. An extra large wave hits them from the side and they both go tumbling. Laughing and falling into the salt water. Yoongi smiles from his spot with his fishing pole, screwing with his line and then Jin's, getting them set up. Namjoon drops his book to the side.

“Ah. So that’s what it is.”

“It doesn't bother me when you guys see them but-“

You look at the waves instead of at him. And you realize it honestly hadn’t occurred to him that that might be the reason why you’re nervous, why you’re off today. You hadn’t really realized it either, not until you caught Tae looking at them this morning and then Hobi.

You look at the ocean, and then back at Namjoon. He folds his book and puts it away. Beneath his big body, the beach chair creeks. You lay your head against the sun-bleached wood of the arm rest. His fingers naturally find themselves in your hairline, rubbing at your temple. You don’t know how he knew that you’ve got a headache but the relife is near instant.

“It’s not that I’m even that self-conscious of them.” You say after a moment. You don’t think about it at all when it’s just the pack when it’s just the eight of you. You don't feel nervous when you're walking around in a bra with Tae or in a bandeau and a pair of Jungkook’s sweats when he eventually badgers you into stretching in the sunroom. You never think about them when it's days like that.

“If anyone looks, I can tell them off for you.”

“No, you don’t need to, I just-” You watch a little kid and his friends toss a ball to each other, getting too close to the waves until it's swallowed by the seafoam, Jungkook is close to it. He gets it for them before it has a chance to get swept out for sea. They scream and crowd him. You get it- all little kids sort of love Jungkook.

“I don’t want anyone thinking that it’s you guys who did that to me, I don’t want anyone to look and wonder how it happened.”

You think of it, the scar, the sharpness of a knife, your face under Geumjae’s boot. It doesn’t bother you to remember it anymore. All the pain from it is so far away. But anger has a habit of sticking around.

“It doesn’t matter to me, if it matters to you, I understand, but I don’t care what strangers think about us, not anymore.” You feel warm at that, that the pack alpha doesn’t care about his reputation so long as you know who he is. The content of his heart and soul, or whatever.

“It matters to me just- I hate them, I hate having them.” You bury your hands in the sand to hide that they’re trembling and this time, when Namjoon passes you a slice of watermelon you take it from him.

"Come with me to get ice cream?"

"Did you only suggest it earlier because you wanted to get some?"

"Yeah," he admits, he gets up from the chair. Hand out, waiting.

You put your palm against his and he pulls you to your feet. "Okay, only if I can get mint chocolate."

His face goes sour, “pup-” you laugh and down the beach, Hobi picks his head up from looking down, pockets heavy with sea glass, listening to the sound of it on the wind and smiles.

Your hands stay like that, tangled together between the both of you. Now that you're talking about it, it's hard to stop.

“At first, I was so disgusted with myself that I’d let someone do that to me. You know I didn’t fight back until the end, not really, not until Yoongi.” Namjoon hums, and lets you vent. Let’s you talk it through as you walk up the steep steps. You know he knows all of this but you want to vent.

“I spent so long thinking I deserved it, wondering if I did, and trying to convince myself that I didn’t. I still don’t know if deserving has anything to do it. But after I stopped wondering, I just got angry.”

The sun beats down, burning the sand and bleaching the earth slowly, leaching the color out of everything, the seashells, Namjoon’s eyes, the grey strands in his hair. Everything. “I got angry at me, and then at him, and then at myself again because I couldn’t punish him.”

Your feet thump up onto the boardwalk, staccato. Namjoon pauses so you can put on your pink flip-flops. You know he doesn't want you to get splinters. “Do you still want to punish him?”

“No.”

You realize how true it is, you really, don't think you want revenge anymore. “I just want to let go of all of it and start again, I just want it to not matter anymore. I don’t care about it and I’m not ashamed of what he did to me because that’s his shame to bear now. Even though he's dead."

"But I still don’t how to let it go. I still have the scars. I don’t want to hold onto all this rage and grief and fear anymore. I woke up angry, and I'm trying to let go of it, that's why I'm grumpy.”

Namjoon’s voice is so deep, that it’s almost hard to hear over the crash of the waves. “I don’t know how you let go of it, I don’t know how to grow. Change is of course natural and you can't avoid it- but I think healing is different for each person. Some people just need love and care, and some people need a fire lit underneath them. I won’t sell you a false promise because I don’t know if it’s possible for everyone to heal. Brains aren't like bodies.”

Namjoon pauses, and he glances at you tentatively, like he’s not sure he’s supposed to say what he wants to. The second you clock the look you want to know what he’s thinking. He must guess it from your face because he soldiers on.

“But you’re so gentle. I don’t think you understand it. you don't understand how rare it is, how special you are to have gone through so much and still be gentle. Your anger doesn't take that away. Not to me."

“Oh, uhm- thanks?”

"And I think if you weren’t healing, we’d know.” Namjoon still has the tacky feeling of sunscreen- probably from spreading it on Tae's shoulders. When he touches your cheek, tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. Eventually, you say,

“I don’t want anything about me to be violent anymore. I think I’ve earned it.”

“You have,” Namjoon says. You need it, the permission to be this way, permission to be peaceful after fighting for so long. There is no joy in this trying, there is no satisfaction in trying to get better if you can’t have peace.

So, what if life gets a little boring eventually? It's better than things being painful all the time. You have your coffee; you go to the beach with the people you love. What will the unblemished skin of your back feel like when the scars are gone?

You want to know. You realize it then, that you wish you didn't have them. That not having them would be easier. You want a new body, you want a new life, or maybe not a new one- But the same one just different, without all the pain and anguish and struggle.

When you look back at the pack, they’re nothing but dots among the ocean. Your heart pangs when you realize you can’t pick out Tae.

Namjoon squeezes your hand. “What are you worried about?”

“Tae's feeling dysphoric today, it’s kind of odd that we’re so in sync don't you think? I’m feeling like shit about my body and what’s been done to it, and she’s feeling like shit because hers won’t love her right.”

Namjoon tips his head. “I noticed. How do you think we could help?”

The pack alpha is asking you how to care for another member of your pack, and you wish you knew better how to say it. How to explain what tae needs. You feel so fragile today, you’re not sure you could help but- loving Tae is easy for you. Loving Tae has always felt like breathing.

“I don’t know. Probably just braid her hair and tell her she looks lovely. Support her. You’re good at doing that. You don’t need my help.”

Namjoon kicks at the boardwalk, “I wonder if it will ever not matter to her if she’ll ever truly reclaim her body and make it what she wants. Do you think she should stop trying? That she should stop wearing dresses, even if it never makes her feel the way she wants it to?”

“No, never, Tae should always try. I love her and I just want her to be okay.”

Namjoon takes your hand, turning it over tracing a scar on the back of your hand. It's a burn scar, one of the ones you gave yourself back when you wanted hurt because you didn’t know how to make everything stop hurting. It makes sense- in a recursive sort of way.

“Then I think you can try to let it go, and if it doesn’t work the first time or the second or the third you just try again. You can try, even if you think you’ll fail. If Tae deserves it then you deserve it too.”

“Sometimes all I want is a do-over, sometimes all I want is a new life. I've wasted so much time being sad-”

Namjoon drops your hand and then holds it out. Smiling brightly in that what that only the pack alpha can, dimples and all. His tone switches from serious to goofy so quick that it gives you whiplash “My name's Kim Namjoon, it's nice to meet you, what's yours?”

“Joonie.”

His eyes are teeming with mirth, the kind of goofiness that Namjoon only really has when he’s one-on-one. You won’t do him the disservice of thinking that he’s only this goofy with you. You know he acts this way with the others too.

But when it's all of you together Namjoon is always counting heads and bending down to tie loose shoelaces. He's not silly like this. He's your caretaker and your confidant, your pack alpha, and sort of your dad in the best kind of non-creepy way. You've learned alot from him over the last year, you've grown alot with him.

“I’m here with my pack, I think you’d really like them. Especially my girl, Tae.” He bumps his shoulder into yours and you giggle. He holds the door to the ice cream shop open for you with a faint jingle.

"Can I have your maraschino cherry?"

"Yeah. You can even eat the others too and I won't tell. I’m getting an extra sugar cone too."

"Deal." You don't end up getting mint ice cream at all, the strawberry gram cracker is too tempting for you. You're ladened with them when you're on your way back, the shop has these special little insulated cups to keep the ice cream cold, but it's still in danger of melting.

Namjoon is a little quieter, that might just be from the sheer amount of ice cream that both of you hold and the concentration it takes to avoid spilling it. You've got a strawberry milkshake for Tae, a peanut butter scoop and split for Jin, something with caramel for Yoongi that Namjoon thought he'd like, and fish-shaped samanco for Jimin and a chocolate covered banana for Jungkook. The whipped cream and cherries hardly make it off the boardwalk.

But you sense there's something more to it, that there is something more to Namjoon's quiet than simple concentration.

So, before you get back to the others you pause, sun beating down, ice-cream melting. "If you want to say something Joonie, just say it."

His eyes are heavy-lidded. "I know you doubt your progress, but you are getting better. I think with healing, it's either heal now, heal later, or heal never. And while I don't think you're wasting any time at all because healing isn't a waste, but-" Namjoon takes a deep breath, looking at you, unable to tear your eyes away,

"I'm really really glad you decided to heal now, because I get to spend a lot more time with you and I like spending time with you. I'll hash this out with you as many times as you need me too because I love you."

"Oh," you blink at him, at the sun, trying not to cry, pausing in the sand. Namjoon looks a little alarmed that you've stopped walking.

"The ice cream is melting."

You ignore him, you can’t pull him close because you’re holding too many ice creams. So you just demand "Come here." It takes a bit of juggling on his part but he leans down and kisses you. A bit of whipped cream ends up in the sand, but you'll just tell Jin that you ate his instead.

You already ate the cherry on top anyway.

"Oh! They're back!"

The pack is towling themselves off, with sandy bottoms and wet heads. You grin as Yoongi excitedly tells you that he's gotten 2 nibbles on his fishing rod, two! At this rate you'll be having fish for dinner. Even Jin has let himself be dunked, and you disseminate the ice cream to everyone with thank you side hugs and thank you kisses.

No one comments that all the cherries are missing.

Tae flops down next to you and then Jimin on the other side competing for the shade. "Oooh strawberry." "Can I try a spoonful of yours?" Jimin asks, then hums, eyeing it, "We can switch if you want Minnie." You offer before he can pout. "Oh, really? You don't care?" you shrug, you don't mind red bean. It sort of always reminds you of Yoongi and Jin since they like it so much. You trade back and forth and then.

"Hobi's back too!"

A smile stretches your face before you’ve even caught his scent in the air. When you look up Hobi has his hair held back by his sunglasses and his headphones are looped his neck. Pockets round and hands full, looking freckly already. "You didn't go far?"

"Yeah, got too hot" Hobi grins dropping to his knees on the beach blanket. "And besides I got a lot."

"Oh show!"

He dumps out his sea spoils while you lick ice cream off of your spoon and nibble at Jimin’s Samanco. Oohing and aahing over his chunks of glass and pretty shells. And he takes a nibble when you offer him one, but only a bite before he relents-

"It's so hot, I wanna go swim. You haven't been yet? Wanna come?" Your hands are sticky and your mouth goes dry. But before you can tell him no Namjoon is already taking off his shirt, jumping when Jungkook's hands get a little pinchy at the gentle chub around his waist. "Here, you can wear this-"

Oh, it's perfect. You take off your dress and you miss the heavy knowing glances between Jungkook and Jin and the hungry way Jimin's eyes flicker up from your waist to your face, the way that Tae can hardly look at you. Yoongi taps Jungkook on the shoulder when he reaches to squeeze and give you the same treatment Namjoon got, shaking his head imperceptibly. You have your back to it so you don't see.

You are this way; taken care of even when you are unaware of it and loved even when it is not seen. The pack knows that what you need today is not any more of that sort of attention. Tae gave you enough earlier. They watch, wink, and linger. Unseen by you. Does love matter any less if you don’t know it?

You put Namjoon's shirt on and it falls just below your hip. It's worn at the shoulders. A hole in the hem that Jimin hooks his finger into experimentally. Making a deep hum in his mouth around the sugar and sweet. The texture has passed your pickiest alpha's inspection. Perfect. No one asks why you feel the need to wear it or why Namjoon offers it up.

Jin immediately reaches for the tube of sunscreen and starts spreading it on Namjoon's shoulders, leaning against the pack alpha's back when he's done and resting his chin on the top of Namjoon's head.

Namjoon tilts his face up, pressing a quick kiss under Jin's jaw. Licking his lips and grimacing. "You taste like sunscreen hyung."

"I'm going to ignore that because when I'm fifty I'll be pretty and wrinkle and skin cancer free and you'll be even more grey." Namjoon turns, touches his hip fondly, and then glances to you.

“i'm sticky, I’ll come with.” Namjoon doesn't offer you the choice, he makes the decision for you and you're so thankful you don't know how to say it. You finish your ice creams and when Hobi takes your hand, you let him pull you up and into the water. You let him tug you until you're running the last few feet before you and the ocean collide. Cold, but just right, just what you need underneath the heat. Jungkook runs with you too, barreling through the waves.

Yoongi and Jin walk down to where there aren't many swimmers and more rocks, casting out their lines. Glimmering when they catch the light properly. Leures hurdling through the air to land with a plop.

The hem of Namjoon's shirt is just turning wet when he tells you. "You know, the human body and the sea have roughly the same salinity."

You don’t feel like that strong of a swimmer, at least not like Jungkook who cuts through the waves like it’s nothing. Like he's a part of the ocean, salinity or nothing. Namjoon is close behind, Hobi too, back to the waves, the red of his hair catching the sunlight. Tae comes in but goes back to the shore just as fast. Tossing her wet dark hair over her shoulder, ringing it out. And you know she’s probably going to want to do a hair mask later.  Jimin stands on the shore, watching you, waiting for Tae.

the sea foam glitters in the sun bobbing and tumbling, lost to the waves. A cold wave of water crashes against Namjoon’s back as he and Hobi lead you to deeper water until your feet just barely brush the bottom.

“Just kick pup. I've got you." You breathe, letting the water wash over you, ducking and closing your eyes, bracing yourself for it as it hits you. But Namjoon holds onto you so that when you rise up, you're still right next to him.

Something light and fast, silvery in the water slithers past you and you jump, clinging to him.

"Joonie! Joonie! Something slimy hit me! Namjoon!"

You cling to his shoulders and he laughs. His strong hand splays against your back. "It's just a fish!" Hobi calls.

"A fish! Where?" Jungkook dives, looking around under the water. Where did he even get goggles? You cling to Namjoon's front, his body warm in the cold water. "Do you wanna get out?" He asks, dimples curved.

"Yeah, just let me dunk." Namjoon holds onto you as you go under, keeping you steady. For a moment all you can feel is the pull of the ocean, the way that the tide is shifting, pulling you out to sea too. Namjoon's hands remain on your arm.

When you rise up there are fingers against your cheeks wiping away the water before it has a chance to get in your eyes. It's Hobi, holding you as you bob. You're so much shorter than them. They get to stand just before the break whereas you have to tread water.

They help you time it right but you manage to avoid getting tumbled by the next crashing wave and when you turn your back to the ocean, you spot them there.

Jimin and Tae stand by the edge of the ocean a good 20 feet from your umbrella. The roar of the waves is so loud that you can’t hear exactly what they’re saying. But you can see Tae's mouth move, the upset lilt to her smile that falters. The way Jimin’s lips are turned down as he says what he wants to say. Standing close the way that lovers do.

He says something then entwines their hands tentatively, like he’s not sure he should. His shoulders are already turning freckly under the sun, the same as Tae's. Like little bits of summer trapped there against their skin.

They have new freckles, you have new stretch marks, and Namjoon has new grey hairs. Your mouth turns down into a frown the longer you watch them.

You watch Jimin reach up and wipe at tae's cheek, watch it as he says something that makes her shoulders shake, that makes him pull her tight against his front.

Your white shirt speckled with sand. Still damp from the ocean water as you splash through the waves to get to them. Tae smiles at you before you get there, eyes glassy. She doesn't do anything to hide the fact that she's been crying just a little as you effortlessly fold yourself into her side Jimin's arm trapped under your ribs.

You watch her smile falter. She hasn't been crying too much, just a tear or two, And she leans down to peck your forehead. Her skin is hot to the touch. Warm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, quiet and know, it's somewhat of a lie. Jimin looks from you to her, and you sense some special small conversation going on like whatever they were talking about before you came over has been touched on just by you being there.

Tae looks down at you, biting her lip. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why?” Your hands go hard on her waist easily, because you hardly come up to Tae's sternum. You happen to know that she likes it when you grab her waist, but something that usually makes her squirm in a good way right now has no effect.

Maybe you respond too quick for her, because Tae looks at you under her lashes. “For this morning, did you-" did you not want it, did I misinterpret? Did I give you attention that you did not want? Would you tell me if I was loving you wrong?

Jimin squeezes her shoulder and you watch Tae brace herself for what you might say, “Tae,” you smile up at her, blushing just thinking about it, scent sweeting as you remember this morning. You can tell that both of them can smell it by the way that they straighten up and adjust their stance. Alphas.

"Tae I would have told you- I’m not- I’m not like that.” Anymore you don’t say.

Her dark hair is curling against her cheek, all of her salty and soggy. Tae looks like just wearing her bikini is making her ache. Like just standing here next to you is hurting. She sighs, Jimin loops his arms around her waist with you. His voice is deep and rough. “Tell her, you know she makes it better.” He mumbles the words against her shoulder.

“Minnie and I were talking about me getting a boob job. Since my boobs aren’t growing anymore, I've been at the max dose on my estrogen for like 3 months and there's still been no change."

You perk up a little at that, eyes bright. “Oh? That’s awesome, 10/10 should, totally agree.”

But the words don't soothe Tae, if anything, her shoulders just get closer to her ears as she hunches them making herself look and feel small. “But it’s expensive and it's like- not a necessary surgery like- it’s extra? Right? I can wear a push-up bra and inserts it’s not like-”

“Tae” you cut her off, and you can tell really this is what’s been bothering her. “Do you want it?” Tae looks down at you.

“Yes.”

“Would it make you feel better? Would it make you feel more girl?”

“Yes.”

You wipe away the wetness on her lash line with a thumb. “Then it’s not too much. What you need is never too much.”

"You wouldn't be like, nervous if I did?" You can tell that nervous isn't what she means.

"Maybe for your health but-" This isn't really helping, Tae is just getting more frustrated, her words failing her such a rare thing. You sigh, taking her hand in yours and you sense a little that none of this, none of Tae's anxiousness is about your approval. Not really.

She reaches down and fusses with her bikini and Jimin looks like he wants to say something. "What's got you so worried? Tae, what's wrong?"

Tae looks up at you and then back down. “But, I’m being so not a girls girl."

"Don't care, tell me."

"But are you sure?"

"Tae"

"Fuck pup, you look so good in yours and I just look- I feel gross. I feel all wrong and I look at you and sometimes it just- comparing myself to you isn't fair to you." Tae closes her eyes turning to Jimin, “Can I wear your shirt?”

Jimin has it off before she’s even really finished her sentence. His miles and miles of skin and muscles are even more alluring under the sun. His hair shimmers like it’s burnished gold underneath it too. Jimin is always sort of golden. He's always sort of stunning.

"I don't like feeling jealous of you. It doesn't feel good, it doesn't feel right. I’ve been mad at myself all morning for it" she tells you. And it sort of makes you want to laugh but in a good way.

“Tae, I’m jealous of you all the time.”

She looks up sharply, “really?”

“Yeah like, whenever you put your hair in rollers and you do the back perfect on the first try, or when you string words together or when you get out of bed and you put on your dresses and makeup like it’s nothing. I'm jealous of how much you want it. You make being a girl look effortless when it's given me nothing but trouble. And then I wander out of the nest room and I look like Adam Sandler half the time and you guys do a good job of pretending I look cute instead of like a gremlin.”

“You do look cute. You're a cute little gremlin.” Jimin says.

“You look like your sweaters are swallowing you.” Her tone is scandalized. Like she can't even believe you're saying that about yourself.

Jimin nods, “You just like being comfy like me. I like it when you're comfy especially when you wear Joonie’s worn clothing and it's like-” Jimin shivers happily and you laugh.

"That was like- so autistic of you Minnie."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I like it when you say how you’re feeling that way I know you’re not having grumpy alpha time.”

“You don’t have to call it that.”

“Well, I could go with ‘Jimin looks so overstimulated he looks like he’s gonna punch someone’ time but 'grumpy alpha time' sounds cuter.” Jimin is looking awfully red, and you suspect it has nothing to do with a potential sunburn.

Tae shakes her head, still sort of angry with herself, This might be the closest you've ever gotten to a fight. “It’s not the same, it’s not the same as me being jealous of your body and wishing it was mine.”

“Isn’t it? I’m jealous of the rest of the pack, even the boy stuff sometimes, like- You want boobs but half the time I’m just wondering if my life would have been easier if I was born a boy omega like Jungkook. It’s not the same as you, because it’s not a gender thing but a safety thing. But I’m jealous of him too, you know I can’t even run one single mile and he goes like 5 every morning and he always has energy.”

Jimin snorts, “Everyone’s a little bit jealous of Jungkook.”

“And Jin,” Tae adds, casting a glance over to where they’re both standing, both looking absurdly model esc. They’re both unfairly pretty even for omegas. You always feel a little too grubby if you think about it too hard, but you’re getting over it. In the same way, Tae will eventually get over this too. Namjoon was right earlier when he said that healing takes time, it's going to take Tae a while to heal from being born in the wrong body.

“My point is, does my feeling jealous over it mean I love Jungkook any less? Does that mean I hate him at all?”

“No, you love Jungkook.”

You hold your hand up, splaying, letting the silence pause and the realization dawn on her. “Then why does you wanting my boobs mean you have to feel guilty about it?” Her expression slowly crumples, and she goes from looking nervous to feeling guilty.

she's quiet for a few breathes, and when it's clear to you she's not going to say anything, you fess up.

“I ate the cherry off your ice cream earlier just so you know. I don't feel guilty about it at all and I will do it again, just fyi.”

A laugh forces its way out of Jimin's mouth, and even Tae can't resist a smile and a roll of her eyes.

Obsession and infatuation. Jealousy and love. It’s always been a bit of a tangle with you three. With you, Jimin, and Tae.

Some omegas that are a little too young- probably still in high school glance in Jimin's direction. You do not pull him closer, just pout. But Jimin only has eyes for Tae, and the way his eyes flicker down to yours tells you there’s nothing to fear.

“Oh, we know.” Jimin grins, “I think the only one who was upset about it was Kookie.”

Jungkook bounds over as if summoned by his name, looking gorgeous shaggy-haired, muscled arms rippling. “What are you guys talking about?”

“How jealous we are of you,” you say before Jimin or tae have the chance to. Tae blanches a little like she expects jungkook to be upset but Koo just shrugs.

“Big wop." He tugs on the hem of Joonie’s shirt. Almost pulling you off balance. "I wanna go body surfing again but Hyung’s say I can’t go alone- come with me?” He wraps his arms around your shoulders, dragging the last syllable and batting his eyes. It's too hard to say no to him.

You glance at Tae one final time and she sighs at you. Nods. “I’ll be alright. I just need to think more."

Bodysurfing turns out to be the most fun you've had in months, weeks, years maybe. Jungkook shows you how to do it. One second you feel like you're going to be tumbled in the wave and the next you're hurtling not through the ocean but over it. sliding across the water all the way from where they crash to the shore. Giggling and bubbling in the salt water. hair hanging lank over your face all messy.

“Did you see me!? i was going so fast!” You cry happily, picking yourself up off the wet sand, you'll probably have sand in unmentionable places later but you don't care. Yoongi is standing on his own.

Jin has disappeared somewhere no longer yoongi's shadow. both of their poles sit tip up in the sand. You hardly wait for him to respond before you're back in the water. Dashing back to where the waves are breaking.

“I did but! Be careful!”

The rest of the day passes like that. You walk down the beach with Hobi and find handfuls and handfuls of sea glass. You suntan with Tae (it's more just lounging) and ask Namjoon to read you snippets of his book while Hobi and Jungkook play volleyball. You go to the tide pools after, because Joonie wants to look for crabs.

It doesn't end all that well. It ends with your bloody finger, a fat seagull who is amazingly adept at snatching crabs out of thin air with a full belly thanks to you.

You swear you didn't mean to fling it, it just surprised you. You tell Namjoon as much as he sniffles and wraps a band-aid around your finger. Pierced through by a crab claw (it's nothing more than a paper cut). "I didn't mean to kill it, promise it just startled me."

The rest of the pack contains their snickers. And Namjoon's sniffles reignite. "It's fine, it's okay, it was a big crab anyway probably at the end of it's lifespan." 

Jin disappears, but when he comes back, he's toting several pizza boxes and a liter of soda. Jungkook shows you how to feed your crusts to the seagulls without them biting your fingers. And Jin also brings back a big big bowl of maraschino cherries from the same ice cream parlor as earlier. Red and bright like mini suns.

"I had a feeling you might want more." he teases, but you don't respond with anything more than "I do!"

Jin makes everyone grab one first, but after, he lets you have the rest.

~-~

At home, Tae gently lifts Namjoon's shirt over your head, the house is so noisy- as it often is whenever the whole pack is moving about, in the kitchen Jin and Yoongi are fixing dinner, still in their own perfect little bubble. Two fish already filleted in the sink.

Jungkook is half slumped against the wall, already in the shower. Turning wetter and wetter under the spray, groaning low, “god I love the sting when hot water hits my sunburn.” jimin pinches at that sunburn. there's alot of that going on, pinching.

“You’re such a fucking masochist.”

“Shut up”, he says with a smile. “I've never spanked you before.” He licks his lips, “soon.”

Tae huffs and pulls herself over to him, sudzing up his hair. Jungkook is the only one truly nude. Tae is still wearing her bottoms and so is minnie. You linger. Still in your bikini, a little resistant to getting wet again but working up to it. Jungkook goes to give her tan lines a pinch and you watch her brace herself.

You grab his hands before he has the option too. Your shower with them isn't sexual. Not this one. Not when you're all so sun tired from the day you had at the beach. You're gonna sleep so well later, your whole body aches from body surfing and you have a scrape on your hip that namjoon had frowned at earlier but you don't even care you had so much fun today.

your hands tangle with Jungkook's, "Be careful with her, she's delicate."

"Why? What's going on?" he glances from you to her.

“Tae wants to get a boob job and She's feeling sensitive about her body today,” Tae says nothing, looking from you to Jungkook, measuring his response.

"Oh? Sweet. thanks for letting me know." Tae makes an affronted noise in her throat.

You talk. Back and forth about it. “Are you sure you don’t just like- want it for us? Cuz dang I love boobs-" It’s a fair question, even if it does come off wrong. tae doesn't take it personally, shaking her head.

"It's not like that, i'm just tired of waking up in the morning and not having them, i just- i want to be done with the dysphoria. it's such a pain feeling like this all the time, but what if i like- don't like them? what if thats not going to fix it? and boob jobs are like- so expensive too." Jimin hardly responds with more than a hum. He's been a little bit less verbal than usual since you got home- but no one comments on it, no one prods him to speak.

Namjoon steps into the bathroom, hips swiveling. It's absurdly attractive- the way that Namjoon moves in his body. Leaning down to take off his bathing suit, he's got sand in them, but you don't mind because you also have sand in your bottoms too.

“82 percent of women express satisfaction with their boob job. I looked it up.”

Tae looks surprised then stricken, “you did?”

“Yeah, I wanted to know in case you ever asked for it.” Tae goes quiet, looking at Namjoon over your shoulder. You can feel the string of your bikini digging into your skin. The slight chub under your arms and around your middle. The place where you go soft. You reach behind your back, undoing it. jimin beats you too it, pulling at the string.

"i've got it."

“Oh Joonie- you’ve got tan lines.” He almost trips when he looks up and sees you topless, actually does stumble. He does have tan lines, rimming his hips, cutting across his hip bones. Tae giggles and traces along them. (If Namjoon's cock jumps a little at the touch, no one hassles him for it, you're all too sun tired for sex).

"Are you asking for it? A boob job? Is that something you want?"

"Yes."

“Oh!” Namjoon's eyebrows shoot up, and he glances from her face down to her chest, and then your face down to yours. Going red from ear to ear like he's imagining it. Namjoon scratches at the back of his head, you can hear the sand flop onto the tile floor. Tae takes your bikini and hangs it over the glass door where it drips. Namjoon clears his throat and Tae looks at him.

“Do you want me to make you an appointment on the same day as the pups?"

“What? Are you planning on getting a boob job too?” Tae cups your chest in her hands, and it’s not necessarily sexual, not even when you wrap your arms around her neck. and tug her close enough that your chests squish together.

“No, not that just-” You peck her lips, and she’s already starting to smell better.

“Just the scars, I want them gone. I got all in my head about it and Joonie helped me earlier.”

“Really?” Tae says, glancing from Namjoon to Jimin to Jungkook to you. the boys look a little dazed, a little love-struck as you reach for her bikini straps and paw at them. Namjoon takes it when you hand it to him and hangs it over the glass next to yours. You like it when it's like this, your warm body pressed to her body.

“Yeah- I got all in my head about it too.”

“Our boys are kind of good at fixing that, aren’t they?” You giggle and start to suds her up. Namjoon and Jimin grumble at the teasing, but join in.

~-~

Everything moves fairly quickly for Tae.

Maybe it only happens so fast because having a doctor for a pack alpha makes shit get done, or because Namjoon and Jin have sort of been planning for this for the last few months. It's been in their back pocket and they've been making measurements and taking down names of good doctors since just after Tae came out.

They’re funny like that. Always planning how to make sure the pack has everything they need. Everything that they could possibly want.

It's like that with your scars too.

The pack all insist on coming for her consultation. The room is full, Jungkook has to sit on Yoongi's lap because there isn't a seat for him. You and Tae are knit close together and you stubbornly refuse to let go of her hand with Jimin on the other side.

It had gone well, well enough that Tae had looked up at the doctor, a kind omegan woman in her 50s. All ready with pre-release forms and the final quote. She comes highly recommended, Namjoon even looked over her case files and gave her his stamp of approval.

She specializes in reconstructive surgery, and for some reason, Tae likes that. She likes the idea that she's not adding but restoring her body to what it should be. What it should have been in the first place.

(Tae doesn't believe in God, not anymore. But a small voice whispers in her head about it. About divinity and mistakes. People say God doesn't make mistakes, but if we are made in God's image, then God must also have an awkward phase. She must also make her mistakes; like cancer in children and what happened to you. Like Jungkook's seizures and women like Tae. It's okay to revise a little. To scribble out and rewrite the lines.)

“You mean I don’t have to like, prove it?”

The pack had gone still at the question, scents anxious and stressed, your hand on hers tighter. Readying yourself to whisk her out of here if the answer isn't to your standards.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just getting here is enough. And besides, I believe you.”

I believe you. It’s strange how 3 words can make you feel so much. Can have such an effect on you. There is a lump in Tae's throat just thinking about it. It's on repeat in her head over and over again, I believe you, I believe you, I believe you. In this moment I exist, in this moment I am believed.

it's silly, because the pack has always believed Tae. she's had proof of that belief in the little things like the omega's putting more pink in the nest and how Yoongi made tae a whole dressing room, and the new pink plates in the kitchen. Your endless trying with her, even when you were too tired to try with everything else. Everything in the house is pink because it's Tae's favorite color. Everything is pink because it makes her happy.

But it feels different to hear it from someone new. Tae doesn’t have to talk about the dysphoria if she doesn’t want to to this doctor. She doesn't have to talk about it at all. About passing and expectations.

She only talks about it with you, only with your heads close under a big sheet. A pillow fort just for two. The light of mid-morning, or the Christmas lights above blocked out. Counting down the days with lipstick in the corner of the vanity mirror. 21 days. 17. 11.

9 days to go for her, and only 2 days to go for you.

There has been a new addition to your vanity too. Pretty delicate packages. Rose-scented tissue paper and golden ribbons, Chanel and Versace and even something called la Perla that you are incredibly unfamiliar with.

Tae always blushes and pushes them into the back of her closet, but not before taking them out of their packages.

The lingerie is Pastel pink, Deep purple, buttery orange, delicate white lace, something almost bridal. Every single color of the rainbow and then some. She's gotten one set every day since the beach day, she's pretty sure Jimin ordered the first one on the drive home.

“Jiminie- you don’t have to spend all of your money on me, and I don't even know what size I'm going to be yet. I know you don’t make as much now, it’s alright, I don’t need all of this." You’d simply clicked your tongue and leveled Tae with a look that was not to be debated or questioned.

“He’s not spending all of his money; he’s spending all of my money. And a bit of Namjoon’s. and Yoongi actually got you that one, not Jimin. I helped him pick it out. ” Yoongi's choice is so feminine it almost makes Tae cry. Pink ribbons and yellow ruffles. Matching garters and buttery soft stockings.

You've never minded being frivolous if it means making Tae happy, making Tae happy is a priceless expense. Paying for her top surgery had been a no-brainer, not something you even had to think twice about or discuss with Yoongi in any overt terms. Like the expenses for the house that come out of the account that you and Yoongi share, the account that receives the dividends from your stocks.

Huh, stocks. You never thought you'd have those.

By halfway through the month, you’re sitting in the upstairs dressing room with Namjoon, Hobi, Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi draped across each other and the settee in the corner by the window and the door that leads to the deck outside.

There's so much weight on the settee that the legs creek. A very large tray with Jelly silicone implants sit on the vanity. They're only samples. Tae has to return them after she decides. 

Tae is having trouble choosing. Naturally- the pack put in their two cents. It's easy to be casual about it, to talk about C cups and D cups and even double D cups.

But what started out as trying to help her decide exactly which tits to get has turned into everyone getting drunk and dumb. Has turned into the boys trying on those bras and putting the implants inside. The general ridiculousness in the room might have something to do with the 5 (yes 5) bottles of fancier-than-normal champagne discarded and empty around the room.

Namjoon puts a stop to it when Jungkook throws the largest one and hits Hobi square in the stomach. The resounding 'thwap' is almost loud enough that it makes you flinch.

“Wait, are these the ones that are modeled after yours?” Jungkook asks, Yoongi says something into your ear that makes you flush and giggle, and when Hobi tries to come close onto the settee you put your socked foot against his chest and push.

Hobi catches your ankle and fiddles with your sock, thigh high, white, knit. sliding his hand up your calf and tickling under your knee. "It's hard to believe they're like that big"

"Imagine how I feel Jungkook, it feels like carrying around mellons not lemons."

Jungkook scoots to the edge of the settee, "let me try them on." It’s stupid and you feel like a bunch of boys playing with water balloons but Tae doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, she's more comfortable when you're goofy about it. You're just deciding what tit's she's going to have for the rest of her life, no big deal. It's no big deal at all.

Tae is sort of freaking out about it, which is why you're drinking and trying to get her to lighten up. Emphasis on trying.

Tae had asked for implants that would give her a similar side profile and cleavage to yours. But truthfully, after she tried them on… she's going to go with something just ever so slightly smaller and more conical.

You honestly didn’t know there were so many different types of implants or so many different shapes and feels. But this choice matters. She’ll only choose this once so she wants to make the right choice.

The ones your size simply hadn’t looked right when it came to her shoulders- made her look too wide up top.

There's one pair, your pick, that looks a little bit more perky than the ones she initially wanted to go with. And while you understand wanting a natural result…

The horny side of you is sort of winning out. But you are 4 glasses of champagne deep, your judgment is a little impaired.

“We can do back exercises! So that you won’t get rounded shoulders!” Jungkook had excitedly commented when Tae had confessed she was just a little bit worried about how much the ones modeled after yours might weigh on her back.

By midnight, the champagne is gone and Seokjin is mostly asleep. Asleep enough that Jimin’s attention is divided. Earlier there was a moment, Tae wearing them and the lingerie, standing between Jimin’s legs, his arms around her waist, eye level with the implants shoved into one of those bra’s. “Go on tell me they’re too big.”

Jimin had hummed, looking down at them then up at Tae, “will they make you happy?”

“Yes but-”

“Tae, will they make you happy? Yes or no?”

Shifting from foot to foot, eyes flicking down to them, then to the mirror. “Yes but-“

“No buts” he’d said, which had led to you and Jungkook doing a chorus of “butts butts butts!” Sing a song and ridiculous.

Namjoon did try and twerk. Emphasis on try.

“Should we take a vote?”

“It feels like we should take a vote.”

“Okay, but the pup gets two because she actually knows what it’s like to have big boobs.”

You do, your votes written out on scraps of that rose-scented tissue paper. “Jungkook- don’t you dare put down the big ones.”

“But then they’ll match-”

It feels good to do it this way. To help her make a choice that would probably make Tae's head spin, cry, and melt down over choosing the right one. She got close to having a melt down earlier but It's all goofy and silly and light like this. Maybe even the hard things are easy if you're doing them with the right people.

Tomorrow they’ll order the implants, and on Friday Tae will have to get up very very early. She will not eat breakfast, will be driven to the hospital by Jin and Namjoon, and Jimin. You’ll tag along for moral support with Yoongi in a separate car and Hobi and Jungkook will follow later because there’s no real reason why she’ll need all of you there.

The surgery will take Tae around 3 hours, by mid-day she’ll be in post-op and by evening she’ll be home. You get the ground floor bedroom all set up because Tae will be too dizzy to manage the stairs. A bright pink nest with a minimal border so that Tae can get in and out without straining her abdominal muscles too much.

You know to expect bruising, to expect her to be out of it from the anesthesia first and then the drugs. Namjoon will be the only one to sleep in the nest with Tae, although Jin won’t be far and Jimin will eventually decide to sleep on the floor around midnight. Just to make sure she doesn't have to get up for anything.

You'll be buzzing up and down the steps several times through the night to check on Tae, everyone else will too. You, Yoongi, and Jungkook are going to go to the store tomorrow to get some recovery foods to help her heal faster.

You put your slips of paper, your votes into the largest bra that Jimin's gifted Tae. You get your two votes, and everyone else gets one. Yoongi cranes his neck to see what you're writing downand you shove at his shoulder playfully.

"No peaking!”

~-~

The pleather gurney is cold beneath your knees as you gently lift yourself onto it, trying not to be nervous. Trying not to be afraid as you lie on your stomach. A breeze makes you shiver through the open back of your hospital gown, bare underneath.

You're cold everywhere, although the numbing cream has already taken effect, carefully smeared over the sensitive scared skin of your lower back by Yoongi. As gentle as ever, rough fingertips rub over skin that will burn in just a few minutes.

He wears stupid small glasses to the side now, designed to block out the light from the laser that will scrape away your scar tissue. He wears lemon yellow ones whereas Jin wears black, and to your side, Namjoon wears red ones- all to protect them as they watch over you. You'd had a good moment of laughter earlier when you'd realized just how ridiculous it made them all look. But any levity in the situation has dissipated now.

Now, you're just nervous.

“It will probably take more than one session to see the results you want, but complete and total removal is definitely possible if you're good with your aftercare.”

The doctor had warned you before you’d started, "she will be. We'll make sure of it" Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi had all promised. And you believe them, there is scar cream and a special oil and even a compression vest for later, similar to the one that Tae will wear for her surgery in 4 days' time.

You’ve spent sleepless night after sleepless night talking through it with Namjoon, with Yoongi, with Jin. They’ve all been supportive. It’s all happened relatively quickly- same as Tae's surgery. The second that you’d given Namjoon and Jin the all-clear that you wanted to go through with the plastic surgery to reduce the appearance of the scar on your back they’d expedited the process and gotten you in contact with a world-renowned plastic surgeon who works at Namjoon’s hospital.

He's not the same plastic surgeon working on Tae, no- this one is a specialist in scars, in burns, in places that have been kissed by pain in a way that no skin should ever be. You think he might understand it. The way that you tremble when you get onto the gurney. He's seen the scars, had seen them during the consultation. He had asked very very politely and as gently as possible Whether they were 'situational' wounds or self-inflicted. 

"I've been married- Widowed actually." Had been your only reply.

The doctor hadn't looked at your face, gloved fingers testing the skin around the scar to see how much it stretched. You felt a little weird about having your back end bare to another man, but with Namjoon there and Yoongi and Hobi too, it had felt a lot less nerve-wracking. You can tell from the flex of his jaw that Yoongi is about to step in when the doctor says one word. after a moment. After he's pieced together what you're implying.

"Good."

Good. This is a good thing; this is a thing that you want to do. The wrath might never leave you; you might never stop being angry about what was done to you. But you can at least keep it from your body and let the pain become a memory and not an imprint. You will not let your body become a place of pain again. All scars are temporary, you're just expediting the process.

Heal now, heal later, or heal never.

You’d woken up this morning with Hobi and Jungkook blanketing you on either side, Tae's long-manicured fingers scratching at your scalp. Stomach uncomfortably empty for a change because they’d told you to fast before your procedure. Bot that you’ll need to go under general anesthesia like Tae. But sometimes laser therapy can make people get sick.

You’d woken to the sound of them taking through it. Something like “I’m going to get her a cake anyway.”

“You should make her one Hobi, you know she likes it when things are homemade."

The hum of your best friend against your front had felt like the ripple of a river. Hobi's deep voice- the one that only comes out after he’s been in deep sleep for a while is always so soothing. “I guess I made you that boob cake with her didn’t I huh-"

They say something to each other, softer, laughter petering off. trying to be quiet and let you sleep but sort of failing. The sound of slow kissing joins the coo of mourning doves and Jungkook feeding Noodle downstairs. He's come back from his run early to make sure he can see you off.

“We can both- yeah?”

You’d been happy to doze until Yoongi’s hand had joined Tae's on your cheek, slowly picking you up off of Hobi's shoulder. Tucking your messy hair away from your face.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but it’s time.”

You’d fussed only a little. Only the pre-requisite amount to get a bit of babying (a necessary medicine, as important as the numbing cream) before allowing Tae and Yoongi to pull you out of the nest. putting on loose clothing that can easily be taken off and put back on.

You wanted to get this done before Tae and her top surgery and you want to meet the new version of her with the new version of you. It feels good that both of you are going through this change, this healing together.

Next week. Next week Tae will have boobs, next week she'll look whole and beautiful and so so pretty. She'll look exactly as she wants to look and you can hardly wait to see. To meet that version of her as the new version of you.

You still haven’t decided if there are any other scars on your body that you’d like to get rid of. Maybe the one under your chin- that's the only one that's so visible or as the one on your lower back. Or maybe the ones on the inside of your thighs. Those are so faint, too faint to matter. Too faint to hurt in a way that’s not purely psychological. Not like your back that you can feel when you turn wrong.

Your heart is in your throat as Namjoon helps you onto the gurney, wearing surgical gloves. The doctor behind him already has black-out goggles on his head. There is a pair that Namjoon hands you for you to wear. Jin and Yoongi stand back, wedding rings catching the light. Jimin is a faint presence outside the door, a shadow looming, protective instead of threatening.

“It’s going to smell pretty horrible, but the lidocaine should block most of the pain."

Namjoon does the honors of unlooping the back of your surgical gown and revealing your scars for the last time.

Worthless. But not for long. Worthless once, but not anymore.

You nod, “Okay.” You hear the clatter of the plastic machine against each the floor. The roll of the wheels on the linoleum as they wheel the machine over to you. Two technicians adjust it and the doctor clicks away at the computer before he grabs the wand and fiddles with the settings.

“The first pulse is going to come in just a second. I'll count down to three.  Are you ready?” You nod and try to relax, untensing your muscles and your body.

This pain, you can handle. This pain, you welcome.

Namjoon’s hold on your hand tightens, the doctor counts, and the light flashes.

~-~

Tae will also have scars. But not like yours. Not like stitches. They'll be like growing pains and stretch marks. Like her heart making room.

The surgeon has done a good job, but when Namjoon unwraps her gauze. You see the bloody stitches and whine. 50 of them under the edge of her generous curve, small nipples also taped over still. There's a fair amount of swelling- making them look larger but-

Yoongi's hands slip on the mirror as he holds it up for Tae, holding it at a tilt so that Tae can see. It's the next morning after her surgery, and you blink as you look at them. behind you, hobi bites on one nuckle.

“Oh my god.”

Jimin's face is flaming. He looks at the ceeling. "That bad?" tae slurs, head tipping limply to one side, her eyelashes fluttering, "Why are you all looking at me like that? How are my lemons?"

"Delicious." you say, at the same moment Jimin says, "breathtaking."

"I don't want anyone to juice them, they're mine, my lemons" tae pouts. Hobi holds his mouth trying not to laugh as yoongi chuckles. jin whipes her hair back from her sweaty forhead.

"Oh my god you are so high."

“No one can touch them.” Namjoon warns, looking at everyone in warning. "Promise me. No pawing. You cannot touch them when you're not sterile."

You let out an upset whine, “Joonie, just a kiss” Tae smiles from the bed, gently, tired. She's barely awake. It's the same bed that you and Yoongi used to share, this used to be your bedroom before you moved upstairs.

“Pup, It's non-negotiable” You pull up the straps on her billowing night dress and cuddle up next to her, sniffling and peaking at them while he wipes them down gently with gauze. Tae can't feel anything through the painkillers, but Namjoon's wipe comes away rusty and red.

You rest your head against her shoulder where bruises spread like ink as Namjoon works to clean them and her. The smell of blood doesn't bother you. You tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and Tae murmurs quietly- eyes still closed that she could use some skincare.

Doing it for her is a reverent act, rubbing it across her cheek the bridge of her nose. When she remembers to open her eyes, she smiles dopily.

“Drugs are so so goooooood.” the pack laughs, yours jiggles the bed and Hobi shakes his head from the doorway. Tae furrows her eyebrows at Jimin.

"You're so pretty."

"I know, you were saying that in the car." Jimin is ever patient with her.

"Do you wanna like, be my boyfriend or something? I feel like we should kiss."

"Tae, we've been dating for twelve years."

"Oh! nice, I should tell Jimin."

"I am Jimin."

"No you're not. Your name's noodle cuz you're little." Jimin sighs trying to keep his smile at bay.

jin kicks hobi and jungkook out of the room for laughing too loudly and you shuffle closer to her. barely keeping your laughter hidden.

You kiss her cheek, the apple of it where her skin goes round and full and pink. “I’m sure the drugs feel amazing.” Your voice goes husky as you look at her, and when her hand tangles with yours. You notice that her nails have gone chipped. you'll fix that for her later.

Tae flutters in and out of consciousness for the first-day post-op. By noon- most of the good drugs have worn off. Movement means pain, but there is always someone there to help her move, change her clothes, or help her to the bathroom (even if that part is significantly unglamorous). Noodle rests in the crook of her knee, purring loudly.

There is cool water directed to her lips, guiding her to sip, then a soft kiss. When she asks for a pen and paper the pack calembour gives it to her. To brush her hair, to pat her skin dry, to praise her, and tell her how well she did. Apparently, she was a stellar patient. She's not sure why Namjoon says it like that. Like it took more energy to just lie there than actually doing the surgery but-

Tae's hand moves sloppy, and her words are half unintelligible but this is what she writes on the paper:

Cage or no cage. We are both birds. Wingless or not. Me a chicken, you a penguin looking at the sky no longer flightless when we close our eyes.

Jimin’s scent blooms close, happy and vanilla goodness. The smell of reading old books at nighttime is comforting and familiar. Tae's heart beats a little faster. Namjoon huffs with his stethoscope and listens some more- laughing lightly when Tae opens her eyes and looks up at him, heart pumping quicker. He zips up her compression vest, to help with the swelling and buttons up her shirt, one of Yoongi's warm flannels. The same one that the pack trades back and forth.

She closes her eyes and you take the notebook and pencil from her before it can clatter onto the floor. Jimin kisses one eyelid and then the other. Murmuring something softly to you at her elbow. Kissing you too- judging from the way that the bed dips as he leans over. The light is turned low and honey.

Tae doesn’t really feel it, the weight or the pain of the incisions or anything really, just a bit of nausea when Namjoon asks and she thinks about it. She turns down the crackers and the toast that Jin offers.

She breathes in, feeling her body move with air. There is no weight to them, the lump of her chest. Compressed close to her body by a surgical vest to minimize inflammation. Honestly, she feels a little lighter if anything. Something like a string poised to snap that is no longer wound around her ribcage and aching heart. No longer suffocating.

She hasn’t even seen them yet; she shouldn’t be able to feel a difference already. But somehow when she closes her eyes, she can tell it’s different. That she’s different. A good sort of change.

It’s a slow healing process, Tae can’t get up or get out of bed for a few days, can do little more but sleep and eat and listen to Namjoon read her favorite books to her in his deep voice when she gets too dizzy to read on her own. Watching bad television and every single Studio Ghibli movie that ever did exist.

She can’t even do so much as put on her own shirts- although the pack is there to help with literally all of it. Buttoning a shirt over her fresh bandages, Jin kisses up her midline the same way she seen him do to you. Namjoon cleans her drains and Tae asks for perfume for once. Her Rosey cinnamon scent has stayed foggy with sickness and stress. Almost dewy damp.

You understand, the skin on your lower back is pealing and smells so ewey. You still can't sleep on your back.

It takes her 3 days before she can lift her arms above her head without pulling her stitches and manages to convince Namjoon and Jimin that she’s well enough to eat dinner like normal at the dining room table.

She sits with you on the outdoor furniture in the morning and eats watermelon. There’s only so much editing and staying yes to the dress that she can handle. The others herd her back to bed any time she looks the least bit uncomfortable or in pain.

Everyone is good, everyone is perfectly well-behaved, you don’t get handsy you don’t even paw at her to look when Namjoon undoes the compression vest. Although there is a moment when Namjoon stands back with the surgical gloves and blushes from his collar bones to his ear. "You need to wear this for the next three weeks, you can only take it off when you shower okay? And be gentle, the skin is so tender."

By day five she can dress herself, and she can't sleep any longer that to 5am when jungkook starts moving around for his walk, rousing you gently. She’s going stir crazy enough that you’re very very happy to take her with you on your morning walk.

Going extra extra slow. By the time you’re home the rest of the pack is in a bit of a tizzy trying to find her, Jimin wrenches open the door at the sound of your steps on the stairs.

Both you and Tae chagrined, Jungkook smiling a little too wide at Jimin’s generally disheveled appearance. Hair all a mess, scent acrid with panic.

“We went on a walk.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, “where?”

“Around the block. Tae woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep.”

“You have fun?” "Yes." "Are your stitches torn?" "No" "You're not bleeding anywhere?" "No."

He wipes down his hair, behind him. Yoongi looks similarly off-kilter, buttons mismatched on his flannel. Rubbing his eyes. “Hobi's making breakfast.”

"Oh? Pancakes?"

"Boob-shaped ones!" He calls from inside.

Everyone is a little protective of Tae, a little possessive too.

By Wednesday of the next week, Namjoon goes to work and you drag Yoongi and Jin out for a little bit of shopping for nesting materials. Jimin has to go back to work too. She'll be fine on her own for a few hours. She can get dressed all right by herself. But Namjoon and Jimin have their ringers on and she's got a day's worth of snacks already pre-wrapped in the fridge.

Jimin and Tae had a moment earlier, helping her get dressed, smiling, looking up at her face and then back down, cheeks slowly going red. "hey my eyes are up here."

"I know," his fingers are gentle as they stroke down her midline. looking at them.

"They suit you, they look so nice and soft. They look so- you." Jimin's voice is rough and Tae's is too, but there are kisses and soft words.

"I'm so glad you told me, you're so brave. I'll never not be proud of you. I'm so glad you tried to be you. I'll never not be thankful that I got to meet the real version of you and got to fall in love all over again."

there's more, but i'll save that for them. Their little secret. Tae is sort of crying when Jimin's done, but he just wipes her tears away gently and lets her cry. The last of it goes away with that. The last of the tension. The dysphoria that will become a distant memory.

Tae hasn't really seen them yet. They're covered with the compression vest almost all the time. She's been sitting too much. Reading and editing and writing because she can at least use her hands. The brief glance she'd gotten at the bloody stitches had sort of freaked her out. But everyone has been so appreciative. You especially.

Hobi has another wedding to do the flowers for and Jungkook has his Wednesday kickboxing classes. The house is quiet and Noodle naps in a puddle of sunlight in the living room. The air conditioning hums and Tae is home, alone, for the first time.

She spent the morning waking up slowly, forehead kissed, waist held, but when the house gets silent, she steals away upstairs. Take the steps slowly, one at a time. going as fast as she's able. Aiming for the dressing room.

Her body is still a bit sore. A little tender, it's only been a week- and it's going to take her another week before she can really move around like she used to. But Namjoon took her stitches out at the kitchen table last night. And the slide of thread through the skin was only a little bit gross, a little bit nauseating.

The weight of her chest is welcome, but hard to get used too- she feels like she’s a little off balance as she teeters up the stairs. but she was warned about this, she knows to take it slow and adjust to her new center of gravity. Going up the stairs one at a time. patiently waiting for her body to stop hurting.

Tae steals away to the side of the room that contains your dresses and a spilling over set of drawers that hold your and Tae's lingerie collection (let's be honest, most of it belongs to Tae.)

Somehow, most of Jimin's gifts had actually been in the right size. It's soulmate magic maybe, or perhaps just good intuition that had him picking out the right cup and band size. Most of them are unlined anyways.

A lot of them are new and hers but a few of them are yours and old, your workout bras and old bralettes. If she’s not careful she still catches you wearing the same bras and underwear greying with age. The type of thing that's gone worn and brings back affectionate memories of the first time you and her ever did your makeup in the library room downstairs.

The little book box of makeup that once held her soul and kept it hidden away now sits open on the top shelf just above her head. The inside of it is filled with costume jewelry, fake pearls, and glittering Swarovski chokers.

Tae gets a stool so she can reach for it.

What Tae reaches for isn’t anything that you or Jimin have bought. It's small enough that she had almost forgotten about it (and you’ve probably forgotten about it too). But the bralette is thin and flimsy at the bottom of the book box. Made of cheap plastic fabric, white and gauzy mesh dotted with small yellow daisies. The first bra she ever bought and the only one she ever bought for herself.

It's not even really a bra, but a bralette.

Tae unzips her compression vest with shaky fingers.

Tae remembers you looking at it the first time you ever did your makeup together, the crinkle of the plastic as you touched it. A realization dawning on your face that you hadn't voiced. But you'd used 'she' pronouns for her pretty soon after that. And Tae had always know, that seeing this was the moment you realized, that was the moment it started to feel real for her too. Not just some stupid dream.

Tae puts it on quickly, hissing when she feels her sensitive new skin touched. The band digs into her skin uncomfortable, the fabric brushing over her sensitive nipples.

It will take some getting used to. She’s careful to close her eyes before she sees herself in the mirror, careful not to spoil it for herself. She wanted her real first look to be like this, alone. Just herself and her body.

It might be a little too early to wear this and yet, she keeps her eyes closed as she maneuvers herself in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling mirror over by the settee. Almost tripping over your pj's discarded on the floor as she goes. Her eyes are still closed when her fingers touch the cold glass, and she stands in front of it properly, gripping either side so hard that the gold filigree edge digs into her skin.

later tonight there will be dress up and dress down. it will feel like the most natural thing in the world and tae will realize that although they're new to her, her boobs have always felt like they were there. There will be no more dysphoria, no more clawing at her throat when she takes off her shirt or puts on a dress.

Your hands will hold around her waist as she tries on each and every one of her dresses to see how she looks in them now. The blue dress from the first day at the thrift store, the one you wore for your first date, every dress, even the ones with the puffy skirts that Jimin got for her after she came out. The ballgowns and corsets and lingerie.

Tae is going to try on all of it. You're going to do her makeup and when you're finished, both of you will be covered in kiss marks from your belly button up. It won't even be sexual it will just feel like love.

You're going to take so many photos that you'll fill up your camera roll and ask for yoongi's phone instead. They'll be half boudoir and half not. Pictures of the two of you in each and every one of those new bras and underwear, photos of tae in this pose and that pose. Kisses on her cleavage and even lower.

She's going to not be able to take her eyes off of them in the mirror but the feeling of them squishing into your front when you hug will be something else entirely. You might have a second photoshoot just for you- a gift maybe for the rest of the pack, you and Tae bare. One chest pressed to another, nothing between the two of you.

Tae will be a bit obsessed with them, will be a little bit proud of them. they'll be perfect.

She's perfect.

But that's for later. Right now, Tae takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.

~-~

Notes:

-sometimes i worry that i'm starting every chapter of bily the same way and while i know i started the letter to my dead cat this way, i hope this is the fist chapter of bily i've started with the line of summer polishing it's rusty claws. Because thats what i'm refrencing, my old cat, i miss her every day. Barely a day goes by that i don't miss her. we're planting cat nip over her grave this summer. i think hobi probably does the same when noodle dies.

-90% certain that namjoon is reading one of the Bridgerton books when they’re at the beach, I love the idea of him being like “don’t fall for it Penelope, make him work for it” when it comes to pollin you know? Like namjoon would be so cute and so so into it.

-Okay but??? I actually got emotional thinking about noodle and Hobi smelling flowers together. You’re telling me noodle went from living in a 2 x 2 cage to having his own garden and 8 humans that love him 🥺 stop I just know he’s so happy. I’ve also decided that noodle is 8 years old. I think that feels like the right age for him.-

-Not to be unintentionally soft but I think the act of putting on sunscreen for someone else might but the most drawn out act of loving there is, when jin does it he’s taking care of the packs future health, a sort of daily effort that shows the investment and that he’s invested in their health for a long time :( I personally think it’s a very soft way of loving.

-i feel like at one point in the future hobi and the m/c actually do try doing oral sex on each other but it's way way too much of a trigger for both of them- hobi especially with pussy, that he tries it once and decides he doesn't want too do it for trauma reasons and both of them are so very cool with it. especially because all of the other alpha's do eat her out fairly regularly and jungkook loves sucking cock so- one thing i like about the bily pack is that they're all so sexually active that everyone gets what they need without hose needs imposing on any of the other packmates.

-the part where hobi and the m/c are like "you're the shame of the regimine.", "what do your suprieriors do with you." is a quote from the 1996 pride and prejudice movie, in my mind i think it's one of their inside jokes with tae too! hopefully people get it.

-yoongi is so cute telling her that he got a nibble on his bait like- i can just picture him being so excited and gummy smiling at her when he sees her. i feel like yoongi might be a tiny bit unaware that she's having a bad day, but their relationship is more equal this way when he's not like- hingeing his entire self worth on weather or not she's okay. i think about them post and pre moonbyul and i think this is one of their diffrences post moonbyul

-i think that the conversation that tae and jimin where having before the m/c walked up went something like this. "i feel like this morning, she might not have wanted it but she didn't tell me." "you should ask her before you ruminate on it any more." "i know i know, it's just hard." "thats not what has you upset today though, you're blaming yourself for that for a reason." "don't tell on me," "i'm not, i just know you." "i don't look good today and it's stupid, it's stupid to be upset about it when the pup- when jungkook- it's stupid to worry about how i look when there's so much going on." "it's not stupid, not when it's you." "i feel like if i hadn't been jealous this morning, i might have noticed that she wasn't into it." "tae, you still don't know if she was even upset." or something like that.

-i know it's silly, but i absolutely love the part where the m/c tells tae she ate her cherry and she's remorseless about it. like thats so /her/ she has such a personality to her you know? i don't think she'll ever be a true reader insert.

-I did not mention namjoon's dick in the shower scene because i knew i would get side tracked if i did.

-the line of 'i believe you' is because clover told me that this last time she visited and honestly, i don't think anyone's ever believed me before. it was the first time anyone told me that they belived me. like- someone /belives/ me??? how wild is that???? i know she loves bily more than anyone and i wanted to make sure i put bits of her in this story too. i haven't told her it will be in here but i hope she reads it and knows its from her without even having to read the notes. i sorta wanted to send her this chapter of bily early because she was sick but i also! wanted it to be perfect and a good surprise <3

-this might be an unpopular opinion but i think tae looks the best in yellow.

-i helped a trans friend of mine remove their boobs in 2020 so i'm hoping that getting a boob job is a similar process/recovery time. they told us the surgery would only last 2-3 hours but we where there for 18 because of pre and post op.

-the drug section where tae is being dumb was a last minute addition- i hope people think it's funny as opposed to thinking it's stupid.

-i actually got really emotional writing that ending i hope...i hope one day being trans won't be so scary. i hope each and every trans person gets a moment like tae's a moment where they love their body and love themselves as much as they love the people around them. i hope your body loves you back. i hope you never stop trying or dreaming.

[s4nniebe4r]

the roommate

part eleven: leftover

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: at the coffee shop, you’re teased by the group, but maybe there’s a reason for it?

wc: 7.1k

tags: slight nsfw, slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance

etc: hi all! so sorry that this took forever to release, please keep in mind that i do this for fun on the side, as i am a college student that works part time! i hope this chapter compensates for missed time! and as always, this is not proofread!

previous part next part

mature content: this chapter contains a little nsfw-esc content toward the end (which is a little out of my comfort zone to write), read with care, and minors, please do not interact!

The warm air from the coffee shop is a relief after the cold outside. The buzz of conversation and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the space, but you can’t help the cozy feeling of meeting with your friends after so long. There's light chatter all around you that doesn’t require much effort on your part. You’re just happy to be here, surrounded by friends, even though it’s a bit crowded, it always is, there’s a lot of people crammed into this little space, but you’re used to it by now. 

San is next to you, of course he is. You don’t even think about how that’s become normal. He’s just there, sitting with his usual relaxed demeanor, sipping his coffee as he scrolls through his phone. Mingi’s across the way from him talking with Wooyoung about this ridiculous thing, that’s probably an argument about something trivial that’s been blown way out of proportion. Yunho and Jongho are laughing at something, too, whilst Yeosang is absorbed in his book, and Seonghwa is leaning back into his cushion, clearly watching the entire group interact, as Hongjoong rests his back against his side as he’s scrolling through his phone. 

You sit back in your seat, glancing at San for a moment, but it’s nothing unusual. He’s just there, as usual. A little too casual about his drink, A little too relaxed in the way he occupies space next to you. He's scrolling through his phone, but his leg Is brushed so close to yours, you can feel the heat of him through your jeans. And you don't notice it, not consciously, but your body seems to set a little more against him when you shift your weight.

Seonghwa glances at you both from across the coffee table, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He's always been keen on picking up on the little things, the small gestures, the way people move when they're comfortable with each other, always, a little, motherly. And right now he's noticing something, Something in the way you and San are just… settled. 

He tried to ignore it, but the weight of his gaze is hard to miss. He gives you a small teasing smile as he leans and his voice light but still knowing. 

“You seem… different,” he says, his tone just shy of being a, but there's something underneath that makes you pause for a bit longer than you'd usually like to.

You blink at him, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

Seonghwa just shrugs, leaning back into his chair, as Hongjoong finds his seat again. “You and San, you know… just different. Lately. Like dinner, the other evening.” 

San, who's been mostly focused on his phone, looks up at the mention of his name. He meets Seonghwa’s gaze briefly, then looks back down at his phone, before clicking joining in on Wooyoung and Mingi’s conversation, though his posture shifts slightly, leaning a little closer to you in the process.

“I don't know what you mean,” you say with a nervous laugh, brushing it off. You immediately grab your pastry, taking a bite to distract yourself. You feel his eyes linger, but he doesn't press, thankfully.

Seonghwa doesn’t miss a beat, though. Simply raises an eyebrow and just lets it go, turning his attention back to his own drink. 

And you know he's not going to push it further, not unless he really feels like having a bit more fun with it later. But you're not sure how to feel about it, so you let the moment pass. For now. 

Conversation does pick up again, but there's something different now, something that you can't quite place, though it's mostly in the back of your mind.It's like the air is just thick again, and yet you don't let it bother you too much.

Your focus drifts back to San, whose gaze has flicked briefly to you, only for him to talk with Mingi again. But it’s his body language shifts slightly—his leg inching only a little closer, a little too deliberate, like he’s trying to be just near enough without crossing a line. Or maybe he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. 

And maybe that’s what bothers you more. You can’t tell if this is all just a normal thing now, or if something’s changed that you don’t fully understand just yet. You sigh and try to focus on the conversation around you, but your eyes can’t help but flick to San once more.

You take a deep breath and try to ignore whatever awareness is prickling at the back of your mind. It’s like your body is in sync with San’s now, without you even realizing it. When he shifts, your attention shifts too. When he leans in to talk to Mingi, you lean forward just a little too, wanting to be part of the conversation, but a little unsure of why you're reacting like this. Your legs brush once again, and you just let it be. 

It’s when you hear a quiet voice again, this time softer, but still clear enough to cut through whatever was racing in your head. 

“Did you have something to add, Y/N?” San’s voice is low but teasing. His gaze flicking from Mingi back to you, his eyes catching yours, and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks from the unexpected attention. 

You open your mouth to respond, but the words falter before they even reach your lips, you glance down at your drink, and let the silence settle before finally mumbling out, “I don’t think so,” feeling the awkwardness creep up your spine. 

San shrugs, his attention already shifting back to Mingi as he picks up the thread of their conversation, but not before he gives you one last glance. It’s a quick moment, but you feel it. The way his eyes flick to yours and linger for just a second longer than usual. Then, as if nothing happened, he goes back to the easy flow of banter, though the tension in the air still feels thick, almost like you’re both playing a game neither of you can quite name.

You try to keep the conversation going, nodding and offering a comment here and there, but your mind is still on that brief interaction. Seonghwa catches your eye from across the table, and you quickly look away, embarrassed, but it doesn’t stop the small, knowing smile that curls up at the edges of his lips.

You swear, it’s like he’s always lurking. 

It’s not until the conversation shifts again, this time around something entirely ridiculous, that you feel the tension start to ease just a bit. You let out a small breath and adjust in your seat, trying to ignore how close San is, how his leg brushes yours again as he shifts, settling in beside you. It feels natural, but for some reason, it doesn't make it any easier to just let go.

The conversation around you carries on, everyone chattering like the waves. Seonghwa is still half-watching you and San, but his attention is now split between the group and whatever thoughts are running through his head. You can’t help but feel the weight of his gaze every now and then, as if he’s waiting for something, for you and San to slip up, maybe. 

Mingi’s still going off about his topic, and the others are laughing alongside him, but you can’t help but feel slightly disconnected from it. Your attention keeps wandering back to San, who’s still engaged in his conversation with Mingi. He’s relaxed again, leaning back into the couch, legs stretched out, but there’s something in the way that his body is angled toward you, there’s a shift in his posture that feels a little too deliberate. His legs brushing against yours again, and you can’t ignore how loud it feels, like he’s settled into your space and doesn’t plan to move. 

You’re barely paying attention to the conversation when your leftover pastry sits between you and San, partially eaten. You glance at it for a second, then at San, and without thinking, you push the small plate closer to him on the coffee table. You don’t even ask, it’s just become an unspoken thing. He picks it up without a word and finishes it off in a few bites, you’ve had your fair share. 

It’s something so small, so familiar, that it doesn't register until you hear a small giggle from across the way. Hongjoong, who’s been half-listening, raises an eyebrow. “Well, that’s… something,” he comments, his tone light but laced with amusement that makes your face heat up. 

You glance over quickly, your fingers curled around your drink. “What?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but the way everyone’s looking at you makes it impossible to ignore the sudden shift in the air.

Seonghwa leans back, eyeing the two of you with an almost amused expression. “You two are... getting cozy,” he observes, a teasing tone in his voice. “The other evening, and now...”

You shoot him a side glance, feeling heat rise to your face. You knew it wasn’t anything new between the two of you, but now it feels… well, noticed.

Jongho only grins and nudges Wooyoung. “It’s like you two have your own little routine going on here.” He points toward the plate, his grin only widening. “She gives him the leftovers, and he’s all too happy to eat them up. You know, like a couple, or something.”

The comments leave a pang in your chest, but you laugh it off, trying to hide the sudden flush growing on your cheeks. “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, hoping it’ll end the conversation.

But, of course, it doesn’t. 

Mingi, who’s been listening with a wolfish grin plastered on his face, chimes in. “Honestly, I’m just waiting for her to hand feed him the next treat, and I’ll really be convinced you’re dating in secret.” His voice is so light, so teasing, but it feels like there’s an underlying tone that makes you feel like everyone is starting to notice the unspoken things between you and San. 

Yeosang gives you a small smile, but he doesn’t join in on the teasing. Instead, he leans back in his seat, looking between you and San. “You two haven’t always been so comfortable around each other, have you?” he asks, the question was casual, but laced with curiosity. 

You try to smile it off, but something tightens in your chest. You glance at San, who seems completely unfazed by all the extra attention. He just shrugs, looking down at his coffee, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. But you can’t shake the feeling that everyone;s watching you two a little too closely. 

Hongjoong leans over Seonghwa, putting his drink down and giving you both an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Seriously, though,” he says with an extra chuckle, “If you two aren’t secretly dating, you’re about to be. It’s written all over you.”

You groan inwardly, trying not to blush more. “We’re just roommates,” you say quickly, forcing a laugh that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Nothing more.”

San just nods in agreement, though he says nothing else. His quiet confidence in the way he responds only makes the whole thing feel more like a dance you’ve been doing. 

Jongho, not wanting to let it go, turns to you both with a little smirk. “Right, right. Just roommates,” he says sarcastically. “Then why does it feel like we’re missing something? Seonghwa, you said what, about a dinner?”

You roll your eyes, but the question still lingers, and you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they’re right. “Can we just drop it already?” you intervene, trying to steer the conversation literally anywhere else. 

But the group isn’t ready to let it go. Wooyoung, always ready to stir the drama, leans forward to the coffee table with a wink. “You know, I’ll put twenty dollars down that you two are dating in secret.” 

You stare at him for a beat before breaking into a nervous laugh. “It’s not like that,” you say, but it comes out more unsure than you’d like.

“Oh? Then what’s it like?” he continues.

“You guys are impossible,” you say with a sigh, shaking your head. “Can we just enjoy the drinks, please?”

Everyone laughs, but you’re still stuck in the back of your mind, wondering if they see something you don’t. The conversation carries on, but you find yourself glancing over at San again, catching his eye for a moment. His gaze lingers just a little longer than necessary, but he doesn’t say anything.

The group’s chatter slowly dies down as the night wears on. The boys start gathering their things, grabbing jackets and bags, preparing to leave the coffee shop. The table starts to feel emptier as everyone stands around and stretches as the conversation begins to dissipate into the background. 

You stand up and give a small stretch, feeling the weight of the evening’s conversations linger in the air. There’s a small tension in your shoulders, but it's nothing you can't shake off. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor and footsteps heading toward the door fills the room, and you take a moment to grab your jacket, preparing to leave too.

Seonghwa, who’s been moving slowly per usual, notices you standing near the door. He smiles, his expression soft. You meet his gaze and can’t help but return the smile, he always brought you some sort of comfort. 

“Alright,” he says with a gentle nod, walking toward you. He extends his arms out, “It’s been good eating out again,” he adds, his voice warm. 

You wrap your arms around him briefly, feeling the weight of the hug more than you expected. It’s a comforting gesture, the kind that makes you feel like everything is okay, even when you don’t know exactly what’s been building up inside of you. “I missed it, even with you looking too far into this roommate thing,” you say quietly, pulling back just a little as you both step away from each other. “Thanks for coming out, Hwa.”

“Anytime,” he says, eyes glinting mischievously for a moment. “Take care of yourself.” And with that, he gives you a quick squeeze on the shoulder before turning toward the rest of the group.

You watch him walk off to join the others by the door, your thoughts trailing behind him. The door clicks open, and you hear the sound of voices echoing out into the cool night. You breathe in deeply, looking around the nearly empty shop, the weight of the evening’s atmosphere settling around you.

San, who’s been standing off to the side, catches your eye. He’s already slipping on his jacket, moving with that familiar lazy ease. He looks over at you, but instead of speaking, he just nods with a soft smile. The others have already filtered out by the time you make your way to the door, and soon it’s just the two of you left. The air outside is colder, but not enough to make you shiver. You slip your hands into your pockets, glancing over at San, but neither of you says anything immediately. The night feels too good for words, and somehow, that silence is more comfortable than you expect.

You fall into step next to him as the two of you start walking down the sidewalk, the soft scrape of your shoes against the pavement the only sound filling the quiet.

It’s strange, this silence. You’ve walked with him like this before, but tonight feels different somehow. You don’t feel the need to break it, don’t feel the weight of tension or the pressure to fill every moment with something. It’s just the two of you, walking side by side, the city lights flickering in the distance. San doesn’t seem to mind the quiet either. He keeps his hands in his pockets, his strides are long and relaxed, but his attention is more on the path ahead of him than on anything else. 

As you walk, your eyes flicker up to him again. He’s not looking at you, but there’s something in the way he moves—like he’s waiting for something, or maybe it’s you who’s waiting. Your thoughts drift, but you don't address anything, you can’t. You’re not even sure you want to. Instead, you focus on the quiet hum of the evening, the soft rustle of trees as the wind pushes through them. Every now and then, your steps fall just a little too close, and you end up brushing against his arm. Neither of you pulls away. It’s just how it is.

The walk feels long enough for you to notice the subtle shift between the two of you but not quite long enough to really understand it. Still, when you get to the apartment building, you don’t say anything about it. There’s nothing to say, not yet.

San steps ahead of you and opens the door, holding it for you without a word. You nod in thanks, walking inside, the warmth of the apartment greeting you. You slip off your shoes, but there’s still no conversation, no need for one. It’s just the two of you again. 

The apartment feels quieter than before, the light from the lamps casting long shadows on the walls as you walk in with San. The evening’s winding down, but you’re not quite ready for it to end yet. The night’s been easy, comfortable, and you find yourself not wanting to break the rhythm.

San glances over at you as he kicks off his shoes by the door, a small smile on his face. “You want to finish the movie we started earlier?” His voice is casual, but there’s a hint of warmth there, like he’s offering you something simple, familiar.

You nod, pulling off your jacket and hanging it on the coat rack, the weight of the evening settling over you. “Yeah, just give me a second to change,” you reply, and San watches you for a moment before nodding and walking toward the kitchen.

You head to your room, your fingers tapping absentmindedly on your phone as you text Yeosang. You’re not sure what compels you to, but you want to catch up with him sometime soon, just the two of you, maybe debrief about San, afte rall, he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to enjoy teasing you about it.  

You finish typing out the message, put your phone down, and change into your comfiest clothes. The familiar stretch of your sweats, the softness of your hoodie, his hoodie, really. It’s a piece of his closet that you ‘borrowed’ from him a few laundry days ago and never returned. It’s warm and soft, and you feel a bit silly for not giving it back sooner, but it smells like him, and there’s something comforting about that.

When you step back into the living room, you see San standing by the kitchen counter, a mug in his hand as he moves about, carefully preparing something. His back is to you, but you watch for a second as he works, the quiet concentration in his movements. You can hear the faint click of the kettle as he fills it, the soft hiss of steam rising from it.

“What flavor are you brewing?” 

San glances over his shoulder, looking up at you with a small smile. “Maybe ginseng or something. Whatever sounds good,” he says, the nonchalance of his tone making it sound effortless.

You give a small nod in acknowledgment, but your attention shifts to the pantry as your eyes land on the binch biscuits you know he loves. You grab the box, a small grin forming on your face. You walk toward the couch, settling down with the biscuits in your lap, just waiting for San to finish up.

He finishes the tea and heads toward the living room with your tea and his water in hand, and you follow suit, grabbing a box of binch biscuits from the pantry on your way. The simple gesture of grabbing a snack for the two of you feels easy, like it’s something you’ve done a hundred times before, even though you’ve never actually done it this way. You sit down on the couch first, placing the biscuits in your lap. When San joins you, he pulls the blanket around both of you, settling in next to you with a soft exhale. You scoot closer to him, feeling his warmth through the blanket, and without really thinking, you lean against him, letting your head rest on his shoulder. It feels right. Familiar.

San looks at you for a second, a glimmer of something in his eyes, before he sets down his cup and slides a little deeper into the blanket. “Wait a second,” he says, eyes narrowing at you. “I finally found where my hoodie went.”

You blink, confused for a moment, but when you look down at yourself, you realize you’re wearing the hoodie he gave you a while ago. “Oh, this? I guess it’s mine now,” you joke, your voice a little unsure.

San grins, shaking his head as he gently tugs at the sleeve of the hoodie. “I didn’t say you could keep it.”

You feel your heart skip a beat when he tugs you closer with the fabric, just enough to make you lean into him. His move feels so natural, and before you know it, you’re nestled against his side, the two of you getting comfortable under the blanket. His arm slides around your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. You didn’t do anything to get away. If anything, you let yourself melt into him more, your body fitting into his like it’s always been this way. You let out a small sigh, finally relaxing into the warmth of the moment. 

The movie continues to play, but now it’s just background noise. Your thoughts are more focused on the way San’s arm is wrapped around you, how his hand rests lightly on your waist, his fingers brushing against your side. You can feel his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his hoodie, and it’s oddly comforting.

San leans in slightly, his lips near your ear. “You know, you're my favorite roommate,” he says in a teasing, lighthearted tone.

The way he says it is enough to make your heart pulse just a little quicker, but you don’t think too much of it. You’re still trying to adjust to the fact that everything between you and him feels a little different. Like something changed, but neither of you has said anything about it yet. 

You reach for the binch biscuits, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand as you grab one, then hold it up to him. “Want one?” you offer.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he says with a grin of his own, leaning forward slightly to take the biscuit from you.

But this time, you raise the biscuit to his mouth, but he hesitates for just a second, a small flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. You feel a little awkward, unsure if he’s hesitating because it’s strange or because of something else. Before you can figure it out, you mutter quietly, “Sorry,” and start to bring the biscuit down to his hand.

But before you can move it away, San leans in and bites the biscuit straight from your hand, his lips brushing against your fingers as he does. The soft touch makes your pulse quicken even more. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a warm smile, his voice low and reassuring. “I got my biscuit.”

It only makes you smile to yourself as you adjust back to face the screen. 

You both settle back down, the blanket now draped comfortably over your bodies, and the movie continues to play. The soft sound of the characters on-screen is barely a distraction as you settle even closer to San. You feel his arm tighten slightly around your waist, pulling you in just a little bit more.

The movie’s been playing quietly in the background, but you and San are barely paying attention. The warmth of the blanket, the soft glow of the TV, and the closeness of him beside you all seem to have your focus. You're still nestled comfortably against him, the rhythm of his breathing steady and calming as the movie continues, though your mind is more focused on the way he’s holding you.

But then, suddenly, there's a loud, jarring sound of something on screen ripping through the air, blasting out of the speakers that catches you both off guard. It’s a sound that seems designed to startle, and it works. 

San jumps, a sharp, instinctive reaction that’s so sudden it makes you flinch, your own heart leaping in your chest. Before you can even process it, his arms wrap around you, pulling you so tightly into his chest that you feel a brief, almost painful pressure against your ribs. You gasp slightly, your breath catching at the intensity, but it’s not a painful kind of tightness—it’s more like a reaction, his body tensing up and seeking comfort at the same time.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice muffled, but you can feel his breath warm against your ear. The way his body shakes just in the slightest makes your heart ache a little. 

You reach down, your fingers brushing his hand instinctively, and squeeze it gently, as if offering him the same comfort he’s giving you. His grip doesn’t loosen, though. If anything, he holds onto you a little tighter, his arms wrapping further around you. 

You swallow, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your chest, and let your hand slide slowly from his hand, up to his forearm. His muscles are tense, but you trace soft, slow lines up and down his arm, trying to calm him just a little to give you some leeway to breath. He shudders slightly beside you, his breath still shaky, and you softly coo at him, the sound almost instinctive.

“You’re alright,” you whisper gently, your voice just about a murmur, really it was meant for the both of you. “It’s just a movie, Sannie. Nothing to be scared of.” You’re not really sure where the name came from, but you hope it wasn’t too out of the ordinary. 

You feel him nod slightly against you, though his grip remains tight around your waist, like he’s still unsure if he’s safe. But you can feel him trying to settle, to push past the fear. “I know, I know,” he breathes out. “I’m fine.”

But the tension in his body doesn’t quite dissipate. You notice the way his muscles stay tight, the way his arm remains wrapped around you protectively, even though the immediate scare is over.

“Hey,” you whisper, your fingers tracing gentle lines over his arm, as you move yourself to face him more clearly, angling your legs to him. Your fingers slowly wander up the soft fabric of his hoodie, moving to his shoulder, your touch lingering there for just a second. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

He exhales shakily, but doesn’t pull away from you. You notice how he shifts just the slightest, his legs adjusting underneath the blanket, moving slightly closer to you. Your heart beats a little more as his body naturally gravitates toward yours, his need for closeness mirroring yours.

But then, a second loud, abrupt noise comes from the movie, a sound that’s too sudden, too harsh, and it catches San off guard again.

He tenses completely this time, his hands gripping you so tightly you wince slightly from the pressure. Without any sort of thought it seems, he pulls you completely into his chest, practically lifting you off the couch as he pulls you. You’re almost out of breath from the force of his arms around you, but the warmth of his body is undeniable, and it feels so instinctive, so natural.

This time, though, San doesn’t just hold you to his chest. He shifts under the blanket, his movements sudden as he wraps one arm fully around your waist. Before you can blink, he’s pulling you up on his lap, and you gasp slightly, not fully expecting it. You settle awkwardly for a second, your legs finding their place on either side of his. His hands are still gripping you gently, but firmly, as if he needs the reassurance.

“San?” you whisper, your heart pounding through your throat. You knew he was nervous from the movie, but you hadn’t ever expected him to react this way, to pull you so close, to have you quite literally sitting on his lap like this, straddled onto him. You try to keep your voice light, not wanting to make it awkward, but your voice comes out in a small, shaky exhale. 

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs, his voice quieter, as if he’s trying to make some sort of light out of the situation. His hand on your waist shifts, his fingers loosening a little, but his thumbs digging into you from the nerves. “This feels… better,” he adds, his voice dropping off slightly, like he’s unsure of how to say it without making things weird. 

You glance down, and your breath catches for a moment when you realize you’re fully and completely on his lap, your body leaning slightly into his chest. It’s a bit awkward of course, but you can’t deny that there’s some sort of comfort in the closeness. 

You both settle into the moment, trying to find some semblance of normality as the movie continues to play in the background, even though the tension between you two could be cut with a knife. You try not to overthink it, to ignore the way your heart beats faster every time his hand shifts slightly, every time his warmth surrounds you completely.

Without thinking, you lean into him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. The movie is forgotten. Anything outside the couch is irrelevant. You let your fingers trail lightly over his arm, tracing the muscles that tense beneath his hoodie. He’s solid, and the comfort of him, mixed with the rawness of the situation, makes you feel like you could drown in him.

The movie continues to play, but the sound is distant now. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way he’s looking at you, his gaze locked onto yours, eyes dark with something you can’t quite name, but it pulls at you in a way that makes your stomach twist. The way he’s holding you, the way his chest rises and falls with his breath, it all feels too much and yet not enough.

You shift, feeling the shift of your body against his, and you just can’t deny the heat growing between you. His hand moves up, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your jaw with an almost reverent touch. You catch your breath at the feeling, your body responding to the soft, careful way he touches you.

“Are you okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, his lips brushing against your ear as he pulls you even closer. You don’t trust your voice to answer anymore, but the only thing you can do is nod, a small sound escaping your lips as you lean into him, your body reacting to the closeness. The heat between you is building, and it feels like a slow burn that’s about to catch fire. 

Before you can think, your lips are on his. Soft, hesitant at first, but then a little more urgent, more desperate. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you into him, deepening it all. You lose yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him, the heat that just seems to radiate from his skin. His hands are everywhere now, one still cupping your cheek, the other sliding down to your waist, pulling you even closer, somehow. 

He breaks the kiss for just a second, pulling back slightly, eyes darkened from the situation. “Are you sure?” The question is quiet, and heavy with meaning. You know exactly what he’s asking, but you can’t bring yourself to answer with words. You don’t need to. Your body gives the answer for you.

So, you pull him back to you, your lips crashing against his once again, harder this time, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. He groans softly into your mouth, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s trying to hold back, but it’s too much. You’re both just a little too far gone now.

He moves, his body shifting beneath you, and it’s fully coming to your attention that you’re straddling him with your legs on either side of him, your body pressed so close that you can feel every bit of him. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down against him, and you can feel the way his body reacts to yours, hard and warm beneath you.

Everything feels deeper now, frantic, his hands just moving around you, pulling at you, but it’s not desperate, it’s just instinctual. Everything is happening just a little fast, but it feels like it’s been building for ages now. You should stop, but you really don’t want to. 

But then he pulls back, his breath ragged as he looks at you, and for a moment, you both just pause. His hands rest on your hips, and his gaze shifts between your eyes and your lips, the weight of the moment settling in. Neither of you speaks. The silence is thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

Finally, he whispers, his voice a little hoarse, “We should slow down.”

But you don’t pull away. Neither of you do.

The silence between you two feels electric now, the weight of it heavier than anything either of you have said. He’s still breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you feel the heat radiating off of him, pulling you back to him. Before you can even think about what’s happening, his lips are on yours again, somehow even more urgent this time, a little messier, a little desperate. It’s not gentle anymore, not soft like before.

His hands are on you again, one moving from your hips to your back, pulling you flush against him. The pressure of his body beneath yours is so intoxicating you just can’t think, you just let yourself feel. You feel the roughness of his lips as he kisses you deeper, more fervently, his breath mixing with your, and you can’t help yourself from responding with the same intensity. 

At some point, his mouth leaves yours and begins to trail down your jaw, down your neck, and you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. The sensation is overwhelming, and you tilt your head back instinctively, giving him more room, more access. His lips are warm, almost unbearably so, and the way his teeth graze lightly against your skin makes you shiver, a soft moan escaping you before you can stop it.You can’t focus on anything but him, the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way he’s moving against you. You let your hands slide through his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, tugging him closer as he kisses his way back up your neck. His lips are still sloppy, still hungry, but they’re soft, too, deliberate, as though he’s trying to savor every moment, every inch of you.

He murmurs your name, low and breathless, and you can feel the way his voice vibrates through you, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your back to your waist, sliding down, his fingers pressing into the soft fabric of your hoodie, tugging it just slightly to pull you even closer, like he can’t get enough. You feel the heat of him against your chest, the rapid beating of his heart matching the pounding in your own.

You pull him back up to kiss him again, deeper this time, no hesitation, just pure need. His hands are everywhere now, one hand cradling your neck, the other slipping down your side, tracing the curve of your body. You let out a breathless laugh, but it’s interrupted by the way his thumb brushes along your lower lip, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your mouth, waiting for something, though you’re not sure what.

But, before you can ask, he leans in again. You feel the tension in him, the way he holds himself back, but you’re too caught up in the moment, too lost in how right it feels to be close to him like this. You kiss him just a little harder, one hand finding its way to his chest, feeling the way he shifts beneath his shirt. 

You break away for a moment, gasping for air, and your forehead rests against his. You can’t tell if you’re shaking or if it’s him, but the intensity of the moment doesn’t let up. His lips find your neck again, trailing down your pulse, and you shudder under the touch, eyes closing, completely lost in the sensation. You can’t think, can’t focus on anything but him, and the way he’s making you feel. His hands slide underneath your hoodie, warm against your skin, and you stiffen slightly at the touch, but it’s not unwelcome. Far from it. You lean into it, leaning into him, and you can feel his breath against your neck, his lips trailing lower, brushing against your collarbone. The sensation makes your body tingle, a heat spreading through you, and before you can stop yourself, you move, pressing yourself even closer to him.

San groans, low and throaty, his hands moving to your back, pulling you up slightly. His hands slide down your sides, grasping at you, like he’s trying to hold onto you as if you’ll just slip away.

You pause, just for a moment, lips hovering over his, and his breath is coming in short bursts. You can hear his heart beating erratically in his chest, and you feel your pulse quicken in response. You’re both so close now, your body pressed against his, tangled in each other. Neither of you is willing to pull away, there’s really no need to. 

Your hands find their way to his hair again, tugging him back for one last kiss. He groans softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you as his hands tighten. 

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, you’re still in his arms, still tangled in the heat of him. The room is quiet, save for the sound of your breathing. 

You both pause for a moment, breathing heavily, and for a second, it feels like the world has stopped spinning around you. The heat still lingers between you two, like it’s impossible to shake off. His forehead rests gently against yours, and you’re both gasping for air, the weight of the moment settling over you, quieting the chaos in your chest.

San’s hands are still on you, and the feel of them sends little shivers down your spine. He shifts slightly, his fingers slipping from your back under your hoodie to gently trace the bare skin of your waist, his touch soft, lingering. It’s not the urgency of before, not the desperate rush, it’s slower now, softer. He moves, just enough to pull his hand away, and you’re about to ask what he’s doing when he reaches up to click the remote. The sound of the television turning off is a sharp contrast to the stillness in the room. His hand lingers at the remote, but his other hand stays with you, resting just above your waist, fingertips grazing the skin where the hem of your hoodie ends.

He doesn’t let go. 

You feel his breath warm against your neck as he shifts again, making space between you two on the couch. It’s like a natural transition, one that neither of you is fully ready to make. But he moves you closer, pulling you with him, his arms wrapping around you as he adjusts the blanket around the two of you. There’s no rush, no reason to hurry. He lets you get comfortable, his hand slipping beneath your sweatshirt again, resting on the small of your back, just barely pressing into you.

The silence feels different. It’s more intimate this time. You feel his breath against your neck again, warm and slow, you find yourself breathing in time with him. Your chest rising and falling in sync with his, like you’re both catching your breath, not from whatever the two of you indulged in, but maybe something else entirely.

His fingers stroke your skin lightly as you both settle more comfortably on the couch. He pulls you closer, pulling the blanket up over you both until the cool air is shut out, leaving only the warmth between the two of you. His arm is still around you, his fingers pressing into your side, holding you close, but gentle, like he doesn’t want to let go, like he can’t.

You shift, rolling onto your side slightly, letting your back press against his chest. You feel his hand move from your waist to your hip, his thumb brushing slowly over the soft skin there. You shift again, and he tugs you closer, his face just behind your ear, his breath still warm against your neck. You let your fingers find his hand, and he holds onto yours without any hesitation, his thumb drawing gentle circles against your knuckles. It's comforting, soothing. 

For a moment, you both just lay there, the faint sound of your breathing and the soft brush of his lips against your neck the only things that fill the space. His arm tightens slightly around you, and you shift again, pressing into him just a little more. His warmth envelops you, and you can feel him smile against your neck, the slight movement of his lips brushing against the nape of it sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes close finally, and you let sleep begin to take over, the soft rhythm of your breaths lulling you away. 

taglist

@kryscent @randajjjad @yutapeaxh @barbielibra @sheadoreswalls @candied-czennie @decaffeinatedpandabread @sannieworshipper @pirateprincessblog @zeeader @frecklyfelix @serotoninbarbz @choisandilf @nimzajsstuff @passerbyforfun @metzzz99csan @santineez @blue5ummer

(please lmk if you’ve been missed out or i’ve entered your user wrong!)

[th3cadav3r]

Hello! I think a nice sfw fluff scenario for the Tulpar crew would be headcanons of how each character would react when the reader hesitantly tells them they don’t like sex or are asexual. Reader can be gn. Thank you, I really like your headcanon writings!

SFW Mouthwashing Headcanons—Asexual Reader

content: fluff, kissing, cuddling, mentions of sex, very very very slight acephobia from Jimmy(but with a happy ending)

author’s note: Keep in mind that I am not asexual therefore I cannot understand or fully grasp the asexual experience. I just tried my best based on what I’ve seen and heard online. Hope you enjoy!

Daisuke

You and him had been dating for about three weeks

You always held hands and made out a lot, but nothing more than that

His libido is pretty high because of his age, so naturally he wanted more

You were making out on the couch when suddenly you felt his hands start to wander

It was fine at first until his hand started reaching a little too low for comfort

“Wait—”you blurt out

He stops immediately, retracting his hand

“Sorry, did I do something wrong?” His voice is full of genuine concern

“No, it’s not your fault. I just uh…don’t want that”

He was a little confused. “We can move to my bed if you want” He suggests, thinking that you just wanted more privacy than the living room provided

“No, I…I mean I don’t want to have sex. It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t like it”

He didn’t expect that but he understood. He smiled reassuringly

“That’s alright. I get it”

You breathed a sigh of relief and your body relaxed. You felt like you truly didn’t deserve such a sweet boyfriend

“Here—we can just cuddle instead” He offers with his arms open. You gladly accept

You spent the rest of the afternoon napping together and playing video games when you woke up

This was definitely different for him compared to his previous relationships, but he didn’t care. He loves you for you

Anya

You started dating towards the end of the trip

She’s more of a words of affection girl than a physical touch girl, which is perfect for you

At one point when things started to get a bit steamy, you finally told her

“Before this gets too far…you should know something about me”

You tell her how you feel no desire for sex but that you still love her the same. Of course she’s understanding once you explain it to her

“I appreciate that you told me”

You both have a long discussion about what is and isn’t okay in regards to your and her comfort. And you both come out of the conversation with a much better and deeper understanding of each other

Now whenever you and her get touchy, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel good without crossing the line

Curly

There was no doubt about it: You were the captain’s favourite

You spent a lot of time alone with him in the cockpit just chatting about the most random things

He definitely grew a liking to you and you to him. One day he asked you what exactly he was to you

You confessed your feelings to him and he does the same. While the moment feels amazing, you can’t help but feel worried about his reaction to your sexuality

“Hey, I should let you know–” You decide to just tell him now. “–I don’t really want this to be a sexual thing, okay?”

He’s a bit taken aback, you can clearly see that in his face. But he is by no means offended or upset

“No worries, then,” he reassures. “Thanks for telling me”

For the next few days, he was very overly cautious. He asked if you were comfortable before he gave you any kind of physical affection. It was a bit exhausting at first, but you appreciated that he cared so much

Swansea

Let’s be real: This man is old

His sex drive is almost all long gone

And he let you know this when you told him about your lack of sexual desire

“Yeah, so what?” he says gruffly and bluntly. “I’m fifty-fuckin’-six years old, sweetheart. Just thinking about sex makes my back hurt”

You were totally expecting that response. It still made you smile from ear to ear though

He wasn’t really a lovey-dovey type of guy when the others were around, but when you two were alone in his bedroom he was a lot more affectionate. Cuddles, kisses, caresses…everything he did was so gentle and comfortable

Jimmy

You’re definitely a lot closer to him than anyone else on board, even Curly

Neither of you really knew where you stood in terms of a relationship, but your “hangouts” included a lot of making out and touching

This was fine initially, but at a certain point it became too much for you

“Hold on—”You grab his wandering hand and move it off of your body

“What?” He was genuinely surprised that you stopped him

“This is going a bit too far for me”Your body tenses up, anticipating a very awkward and uncomfortable conversation

“What do you mean?” He sounded a little hurt and a bit annoyed

“I don’t…have a drive like that. I don’t want to do sexual stuff”You laid it all out for him

He was quiet for a bit. You couldn’t exactly read his face so you were starting to get a little nervous

“It’s not because of me, right?”

“No, of course not,” you reassure. “That’s just how I am”

He sighs. Whether it was out of relief or frustration you couldn’t tell

“Alright”

The atmosphere between you and him was a little awkward for the next few days. You couldn’t help but worry

“Sorry if I was being distant,” he finally told you one afternoon. “Just thinking things through”

“That’s alright” You were lying; you were a little upset that he basically ghosted you after you were so vulnerable with him, but you were willing to just let it go, at least for now

“I know you have your…thing. But I still like you”

Well that was a surprise. But a good one. Definitely a good one. You told him that you liked him back

He was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t do everything he hoped to do with you, but he still liked you a lot. Besides, he could always just “take care” of himself in private

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Ten

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 22k (one day I'll write like a normal person)

Chapter Warnings: I'll highlight the important stuff first - poppy's part has a pretty heavy scene with mentions of stillbirth/miscarriage/child loss/birthing complications and genetic disorders. poppy is safe, cheeto is safe and it's a backstory thing so if you are triggered by mentions of those topics, it's technically skippable (you can message me and I'll write up an overview without the mentions in there so you're not missing out) and at the end of the first scene of her section, the beginning of it will be marked in red, and the end will have the usual divider. other than that, there are sprinklings of angst in here - mentions of anxiety around flying, self doubt, Poppy and Nico have their little family bubble kind of burst, a bit of hurt/comfort, long distance longing and it's otherwise generally fluffy. some sexual references but not smut. some EXCESSIVE declarations of love. like we get it. you're into each other.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Nine)

A/N: I wrote and rewrote so much of this I've kind of driven myself crazy i’m not sure if this chapter will be everyone’s cup of tea tbh but it’s important to the characters as I close this story up. I'd like to dedicate this to my HATERS (aka the anons I literally asked to trash talk me for motivation it actually did work lmao I love you) I know that quite a few people have found this story since the last chapter so thank you for all your lovely messages, and all the stuff you guys send to me in my inbox, or tag in your reblogs it means the world 2 me!! I honestly have seen so many nice things said about this fic and my writing over the past few weeks it really really makes me so happy I love you guys so much!! I feel like putting out the bonus chapter hopefully eases some of the tension from this one, but like I said, and like you can read in the extra chapter where Cheeto is born, she's safe, don't let my warnings put you off unless those things do trigger you!!

Nico

There are quite a few routines that Nico has fallen into with Poppy over the last couple weeks where they have been much closer. 

There’s mornings with Poppy, more often rushed than not after the two of them refuse to leave whichever bed they’re in, cuddling up under the covers and hitting snooze as many times as they possibly can before they really need to get up. 

There’s the beautiful dance they have mastered in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while Poppy does her skincare routine, jutting out his chin for her to put some moisturiser over the centre of his face and letting her rub it in with soft fingers.

There are routines in the evenings, where Nico usually gets home a lot later than Poppy, her key now on his keyring so he can let himself in whenever he needs to, finds her on the couch waiting for him, and brings her back something to eat, even if she’s eaten already that night.

And lunchtimes might be his favourite, making the most out of the times he’s at the arena, and not on the road, stopping by her office, the two of them going for walks now that the weather’s nice again, and trying all the different spots close by.

Returning to her office and going giddy with affection, pressing wanting kisses to her lips where he’s never had the pleasure of doing it so casually, before.

It’s how they’ve ended up where they are now, Poppy sat on the edge of her desk, legs spread for Nico to stand between as his mouth works eagerly at the skin of her delicate neck, drinking up the soft sounds she makes for him, quiet enough that only he will hear.

“We can’t do this,” she gasps at the feeling of teeth nipping, her ass scooting forward until it’s right on the sharp edge of the wood. “Not here.”

“We’ve ticked off every other spot,” he hums just beneath her jaw, nipping at the skin there teasingly until her body arches into the attention. “Your car,” he moves further down her neck, “My car,” and further, “Every single surface in both our apartments,”

“The dryer was fun,” she reminisces, her fingertips reaching out to clutch at his shirt.

“May as well cross your office off the bucket list.” He shrugs, smirking right against her ear where he mutters the words.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Even better.”

“Nico,” she whines as he remains unrelenting in his pursuits.

“Lucky them, getting to see you all pretty for me like this,” his hands press into either side of her thighs and push at the hem of her skirt until it bunches all the way up, parting her legs even further so he can step in between them. “Wanna touch every inch of you,”

“Thought you were doing that this morning,”

This morning, he breaks out into a dopey grin at even the thought.

All these years, he has thought he was living his dream, making a successful career out of his talent, playing in one of the greatest leagues on the planet - all that before he ever experienced co-existing with Poppy.

Coming home to her after a strenuous trip away, falling asleep with her in his arms, being woken at least 10 times in the night to her repositioning herself in her sleep, eyes drifting open in the morning and looking down to see her cheek smushed into his chest, hair matted into the small space left on his pillow, taking up half of his side of the bed, drooling onto his skin as soft snores still puff out from between her parted lips.

That’s his dream, now - to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life. 

And he had told her as much when she came to, shamefully wiping at the spit on his chest with the collar of his shirt that she was wearing, kissing and kissing at her despite her protests of morning breath and needing to pee. He had followed her into the bathroom, all privacy long thrown out of the window as he brushed his teeth while she relieved herself, and Poppy did the same, and it was at the bathroom counter where he had made his first efforts to stretch out their lazy morning together.

Hoisted up beside the sink, legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed minty kisses into her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin until she tugged at his hair and pulled him up to meet her lips. 

He had told her he could do this everyday, and had meant it. But the two of them had been in such a rush to do something while they had the time, that he hadn’t really dived deeper into the topic of it being an actual possibility.

Of the two of them actually living together. Of him giving her the key to his apartment he had cut for her, and proposing that the two of them get a head start on a nursery before he has to potentially leave for the World Championships in a week.

They then moved from the bathroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen back to bed, and then from bed to a late morning start in work, entirely too distracted for him to pick back up where his thoughts left off.

“Lost count of where I got up to, gonna have to start again.” He smirks into her skin.

“You’re crazy.”

“Your fault.” He mutters with lips pressed to her jaw, “This could technically be our last shot here, Poppy,” he leans back a little to get a good look at her, head thrown back in distracted pleasure like she isn’t the one trying to get him to calm down. “You’ll be on leave by the time we get back, who knows when the next time we’ll both be in your office is,”

“I do.” She chuckles, “In 3 hours when you think you miss me too much to function, again.”

“Hey, I was checking up on you,” he presses a kiss closer to her lips, “Couldn’t have you in here all alone, know how worked up you get after a little while without me, huh?”

“I get worked up?” She scoffs, gesturing to the hands splayed out beside her hips on her desk, “You literally can’t keep your hands to yourself,”

“Can you blame me? Look at you,” he hums, kissing at the space between where her mouth curves up at the corner and her cheeks puff into a smile. “Go crazy thinking about you.”

She places soft hands on either side of his face, taking a grip of his jaw and moving him in front of her. “You can’t sweet talk me into fucking you in my office, baby,” she tells him, unable to stop the fully-fledged smile that forms when he grins back. 

“Not even if I take my shirt off?”

The look she casts down his body makes him feel exposed, an electric tingle shooting down his spine - so much that he just wants to press into her to quell it, somewhat.

“Might be worth a shot,” she shrugs, hands shifting until fingertips dance at the sensitive skin on either side of his neck, tickling back into his hair as she grasps at it, just a little. “No promises, though.”

And it’s just as he leans back in to kiss her that a hard knock rattles the door to her office, the two of them shooting apart as if shocked by electric, Poppy shimmying off her desk until she’s standing, pulling her skirt back into place and smoothing down her hair. 

Nico takes a few steps to the side, putting a good few feet between them so their closeness doesn’t rouse suspicion when Poppy invites the intruder into the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Josh says with a meek smile as he steps in and closes the door behind him, not at all perturbed by the presence of Nico and Poppy, and seemingly not sorry at all, “Something’s come up and I figured I should run it by you.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nico says, doing his best not to sigh or grumble at the fact he has been so rudely disrupted from his new favourite part of the day. 

“Actually,” Josh steps back to block the door, “It concerns you too.”

Nico frowns, glancing back towards Poppy, who’s swiping a thumb at her smudged lips and shrugging a little when she meets his eye.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“So, uhm,” he seems nervous, now, the bravado he had when stopping Nico from leaving disappearing as he swerves around him to put the little folder he is carrying on Poppy’s desk, “It seems like the fans have picked something up from an interview you did after practice today, Nico.”

Shit.

If PR are involved, it has to be something bad.

But he’d just talked about the mood in the locker room, if he remembers right? The morale amongst the team after their loss yesterday in Philly. He hadn’t cursed, hadn’t said anything offensive or troubling.

Maybe he’d pouted a little, been a little frustrated, but that’s to be expected of the position they’re all in, surely?

And why would Josh be running it by Poppy?

“Did I say something bad?”

“No, it’s not anything you said.”

Nico watches as Poppy takes the folder, slides it across her desk and opens it, and from what Nico can see from where he’s stood, it looks like a screenshot of a bunch of tweets.

Whatever they say, it seems like overkill to print them out. Couldn’t he have just pulled up twitter like a normal person?

“Oh.” Poppy frowns, and Nico finds his feet carrying him toward her just at the sight of the expression on her face as she reads down the page.

As he leans over her desk, he sees that they are tweets. The first being a video of the interview he had done after their morning skate today, and the second being a couple of screenshots - each picture zooming further and further into something in the background.

With the paper upside down, Nico can’t quite tell what that something is, but at least it isn’t something he said. 

That’s good, he thinks, right?

The confusion must be evident on his face, because once she’s looked up at him for any sort of reaction, Poppy turns the sheet around on the table, and Nico is able to zero in on exactly what the tweets are getting at, sinking into the seat on his side with bated breath.

In a crystal clear quality he didn’t even know the cameras brought into the locker room could deliver, he sees his copy of Poppy’s latest scan, sat front and centre on the shelf of his locker. 

Fuck.

His eyes skim over the rest of the tweets on the page, an influx of capital letters and exclamation points, the words barely registering in his brain until he gets to the bottom of the page.

Sentiments of ‘Nico is having a baby?’ line up against mentions of Talia, of the two of them still being together, of all the variations of shocked, mind-blown emojis.

His heart starts to hammer in his chest as he reaches for the next page, hoping there’s a tweet from someone with an ounce of sense on there.

But this page is worse. So much worse.

‘He’s with someone else. Served them at my work last week in NYC!’

And attached is a picture from when he and Poppy went to lunch with her parents.

If this whole situation didn’t flood his system with panic, he’d be able to admire just how cute the pictures are - Poppy sat beside him, looking up at him in adoration as he jokes with her father. It’s the kind of thing he doesn’t really get to see or notice when he’s not looking at her - just how infatuated she is with him. It makes his skin tingle and his chest feel warm in the best way. 

Their seats are so close that they’re practically pressed together, his hand disappearing under the table where he remembers it sat on her lap the entire meal, her fingers either tangled with his or tracing little shapes into his palm. 

‘She’s cute.’

‘Where do I know her from?

‘She works for the Devils! Seen her at a few events with the foundation!’

Nico takes a shaky breath as the rest of it unfolds in front of his eyes. 

Poppy’s name, her job, the about us section from the foundation website, her private social media pages with requests to follow, pictures where she’s in the background or smushed into a group shot. She didn’t sign up for this, he thinks, people having such little regard for her privacy online. 

His interview in the locker room had been an hour ago, maybe two, and all they had to go off was a single blurry screenshot of a scan picture. And now they have pictures of her, of the two of them together, of her parents. They know her name, her place of work, and on the very last page, when he reads, ‘She lives in my brother’s building’ he thinks his heart stops.

“You guys aren’t in trouble, or anything,” Josh reassures her, reaching out in Nico’s peripheral and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder that he really wants to shoo away. “I mean, everybody here knew, I wanted you to see everything so you can figure out how you want to handle it. Or if you want to handle it at all.”

“What do you mean?” Nico gulps, speaking mainly to divert Josh’s attention from her, to try gain back some semblance of control on the situation, himself.

“I mean, we don’t really get involved in personal stuff like this, but I could help you come up with something to say between yourselves?”

“Something to say?”

Maybe Nico has been ignorant, this whole time, to the possibility that this sort of thing could happen. It’s not like they’ve been hiding it, not really. They’re out in public a lot together - they go to the convenience store sometimes, they eat out, they grab breakfast at the same spot if neither of them have the energy to make it, themselves, waiting in the queue with Poppy perched beneath his arm and him pressing kisses to the crown of her head.

His relationship with her has never been something that he felt like he had to hide, or had to protect, not in that way, anyway. 

Especially compared to when he was with Talia. When her social media presence became catered to hinting at the two of them. Cut off shots of his arms on tables, wearing clothes he had just been seen in, posing in front of his car, in the family suite at the arena - and that had all been before he found out she had been sharing their private pictures with gossip accounts, too. 

Poppy doesn’t court attention like that. All her pictures with him or of him are hers, and hers alone. Printed out and put on her refrigerator or framed in her apartment. Or there’s maybe one or two that she rotates as her phone background, but he does the same with her so he can’t exactly complain about that.

It’s cute, he thinks, the small ways in which she tries to keep him close. 

He’s just been assuming the two of them would be on the same page about the whole thing, wanting to keep things as they were, just between them, but also not going to extra efforts to hide their relationship, to erase all essence of normality and routine they’ve managed to build.

Especially considering the fact that for so long, even they didn’t know what they were or what they would be.

He still doesn���t know, if he’s being completely honest.

Poppy isn’t a grand gesture kind of girl, he knows that. She likes things simple, likes things easy, and as much as he might want to tell everyone that she’s his girlfriend, they haven’t really had that conversation yet. And he’s trying to let her take the lead on the whole milestone thing. He doesn’t want to push her into something she’s still building herself up to in her head.

So what is he supposed to say?

“If you don’t say anything, they might continue to dig.”

“I don’t think there’s much left for them to find,” Poppy scoffs, speaking for the first time as she flicks back through the pages on her desk. “Maybe my social security number, or my dental records or something.”

Ok, she’s cracking jokes, he thinks, casting a concerned glance her way as she finally meets his eye over her desk. 

She doesn’t look angry that he’s catapulted them into this mess. Doesn’t look hurt or disappointed. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and her eyes are wide looking back at him as if she’s expecting him to say something. 

“Do we have to decide now?” Nico asks, despite knowing the answer.

The last game of the season is tomorrow. Home against the islanders. Leaving things to chance and having all eyes on him will only fuel the fires of online speculation. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk about it, if you want?”

Nico narrows his eyes at the hand that still rests on Poppy’s shoulder, patronisingly patting at the curve of it before she sends him a thankful, forced smile, and he has to bite his tongue when Josh does the same thing to him on his way out.

The silence that lingers following the click of the door to Poppy’s office is tense, elongated enough that Nico starts the feel the throbbing of his pulse in his ears. 

His eyes are cast down, but he can feel Poppy’s cautious gaze on him, can sense as she rises out from behind her desk and circles around to his side, perching herself on the edge, sat beside the damning evidence that has caused this mess.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, softly.

“I’m thinking I messed everything up.” He sighs, leaning into the chair with tension in ever muscle, back stiff, jaw clenched. “I’m so stupid, I forgot it would even be visible, I just like having it there, so I can see her all the time, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Poppy, I swear,”

“Hey, I know,” she consoles him, pushing straight off of her desk and standing in front of him, crouching to his level. “Our bubble was bound to burst eventually, Nico, it’s okay,”

“Maybe we can fix this,” he thinks out loud, “I know a guy, a hacker, he’s really good, he could probably do something,”

“He must be really good if he can turn back time, babe,” Poppy scoffs, and he straightens in the seat, adjusting his positioning and gesturing for her to sit on his lap, as awkward as it might be. “How the hell do you know a hacker, anyway, Mission Impossible?”

“His name’s Myles, he lives over in The Heights,” he hums in response, large hand cupping at her thigh to hold her in place, “Maybe he could get the pictures scrubbed from the internet, or something?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just want to keep things the way they are,” he sighs, “I want our bubble back. I liked our bubble.”

Poppy smiles, soft and affectionate, and cards her fingers through his hair to push it back, nails scratching soothingly at his scalp. 

“I liked our bubble, too.” 

The two of them sit like that for a minute, thoughts racing between the two of them, but the tension slowly easing, the silence becoming a little more comfortable as they both take a moment to think about what it is they want to do. 

Poppy’s fingers stroke at the back of his neck and his stroke soothingly into her thigh.

“We don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” She’s the first to speak, and Nico’s heart hammers at the sound of her voice, more than usual, at least. “We can just wait it out, it’s the last game of the season, these things just go away after a while, right?”

“I don’t want it to go away, Poppy.” He huffs. “I don’t want to hide you, or pretend you don’t exist, pretend we aren’t having a baby together, pretend we aren’t-,”

His fingers tighten in their grip on her flesh, and he lets out a heavy sigh, trying to refrain from laying his heart on the line in the possibility she might trample on it out of heightened emotion. 

“I can ignore it,” she says, “The stuff online, I don’t really use social media, they can say what they want about me, about us, it doesn’t really matter, right? They don’t know anything.”

“They know where you live, apparently.” He scoffs, and despite the voice in him telling him to reel it in, the voice that, for so long now, has been telling him to hand the reins over and let her guide him down whatever path she wants to be on, the next thing comes out without much thought behind it. “Maybe you should move in with me, my building is a lot safer.”

He had been wanting to ask her, anyway, right?

He has the key in the glove compartment of his car, ready for her to claim. They spend enough time at his place, it’s the same distance as hers from the arena. 

And the timing is almost perfect. He’ll have some time to move her in before he leaves for Europe. Have some time to get her settled before they’re separated, just for a bit. They can keep sharing these routines they’ve built so well, together.

She’ll have an all access pass to all the clothes she so often likes to lounge around in, and he’ll have an all access pass to her, to all the developments with Cheeto, to-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What?

In what world is it not a good idea?

“I don’t think we’re ready for that, yet.”

Not ready?

What about them isn’t ready?

“Poppy-,”

“I have a meeting in 5 minutes, I should really fix myself up.”

She pushes herself up from his lap, despite him pawing at her to stay, and rushes back to her own side of her desk, tucking her hair behind her ears as she tries to make herself look busy, avoiding the way in which he chases her gaze.

What the hell just happened?

“We need to talk about this, Mohn,”

“We will,” she reassures him, “Later, I promise. Dinner at Jesper and Nic's, yeah, with the team? I'll meet you at your place.”

His place.

No, he thinks, it should be our place.

His heart hammers in her chest as he watches her, tries to get a gauge on what on earth she’s thinking, why the hell she’s distancing herself after, I liked our bubble, too.

“Poppy,” he tries again, stepping and trying to convey something in his tone that might bring her on side, might make her reconsider. 

“I can’t be late, Nico,” she sighs, “I’ll come straight over after I finish work, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, shuffling over to the door with the weight of the world now on his shoulders. 

How the hell had he gone from the morning from heaven, to this?

Exiled from Poppy’s office and shot down like the thought of living with him turned her stomach. 

“Love you,” he offers as a goodbye, a hand on the door handle with his neck craned back to see her one more time, to meet her eyes and try and ingrain the sentiment to her memory.

“Yeah,” she smiles, tight and half-hearted. “Love you, too.”

Nico can’t recall a time where he’s ever been this stressed in his life.

And that seems like an almighty feat considering the year he’s had, so far. All the stuff with the team, with losing their manager half way through the season, with injuries, and fights on the ice, with trying to organise his place in the national team. With Poppy, with her parents, with navigating their relationship, navigating the fact he’s going to become a father soon.

But no, 3 missed calls to his girlfriend-but-not-his-girlfriend-but-she’s-carrying-his-baby-and-he-wants-her-to-be-his-girlfriend’s phone and he’s literally having heart palpitations and breaking out into a cold sweat.

He’s pacing, for God’s sake, shoes tapping against the hard wood of his apartment as he waits for any sign of life.

They’re all going straight to voicemail, and beyond driving all the way back to the Rock and trying to retrace her steps, he doesn’t know what to do.

Despite where they had left things earlier, despite the way she stomped all over his hopes and dreams, she had told him she’d meet him here straight after work, and it’s been almost an hour since she was due to finish.

It’s 30 minutes from the arena, maximum.

He should have stuck around and given her a ride, he thinks. At least them he’d know where she was.

But then she’d feel smothered, a whiny voice rings through his head as he presses to dial her again, the same tone ringing straight through to her machine. She doesn’t want to live with you, she probably doesn’t want to be in a car with you, either.

“C’mon, Poppy, pick up,” he sighs, trying one more time, holding his breath as he presses his phone straight to his ear, wanting to throw it against the wall when the same thing happens, again. 

He can’t calm himself down. He hasn’t been able to all afternoon since he left The Rock, driving home without any music playing, coming up to his apartment and not being able to sit still for the past few hours.

She doesn’t want to live with him. She doesn’t think they’re ready.

Despite the fact that they’ve shared a bed every night, almost - aside for when he’s been on the road - for the past two weeks. Despite the fact that all he’s done since February is try to prove himself to her. 

Prove himself as a partner, first and foremost. There for every appointment, accommodating her every craving, her every need. 

He’s even learning to cook, for Christ’s sake, beyond pasta and breakfast food, and knows her breakfast order by heart. 

He’s tried replaying their entire conversation in his head, tried figuring out which part had soured her entirely to the idea, and all he has been coming up with is blanks.

And now, she’s blanking him. Now she’s saying love you with weak smiles that make his heart ache, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He’s pacing so much, stomping so hard, that he almost doesn’t hear the knock at his door, stopping in his tracks just to catch the end of it and shooting over so quick he almost stumbles and crashes to the floor.

Seeing her isn’t enough for the tension to drop from his body, not entirely, not yet - not even when she gives him a guilty smile and immediately goes in for a soft, sweet kiss against his bitten lips. 

“‘M’sorry,” she mutters into his mouth, “My phone died and I left my charger in your car.” She waves her blank phone screen in between them as if to prove her point, and Nico thinks back to getting in his car to come home, earlier, huffing and puffing about all the wires in the centre console and throwing them onto the passenger seat.

He kisses her back, almost in an unspoken apology for getting so worked up, not that she had any idea just how worked up he was getting, and hums, “It’s okay,” in response. “Are you okay?”

Are we okay? He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

She’s here, now. They have to be okay.

“Yeah,” she smiles, and he wants to take it at face value. She’s had a long day at work, she’s probably exhausted. Her smile isn’t half-assed or forced. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. “The guy who’s covering my maternity is a board-certified yapper, Nico, God help you when you have to work with him. You’re gonna miss the hell outta me.”

“Won’t have to miss you, Mohn,” he chuckles, despite the fact that it isn’t entirely true. He wouldn’t have to miss her, if she lived with him, but the way she smiles back eases his worries, a little bit. 

There’s the summer to figure things out, he realises.

There’s no rush, and he keeps getting into the habit of thinking there is.

Baby steps.

She takes them with such ease that it really makes him look like an idiot, he thinks. 

“You ready to go? Do you need a drink or anything?”

“I think I’ll last the ten minutes it takes to get there,” she rolls her eyes fondly as she takes his hand in hers, and the two of them make their way down to the parking level.

Nico bites at his tongue the whole way to Jesper and Nicole’s place.

He’s trying his best to take whatever she’s willing to give him, and if ignoring the problem at hand is what she wants to do, then he’ll do it. He won’t ask her if she’s thought any more about things, despite her telling him earlier that they’d pick it back up. He won’t ask if she’s still willing to ignore all the outside noise.

Won’t ask her why she doesn’t think they’re ready to live together.

And he bites his tongue all night, really. 

It becomes easy to do so as the two of them sink into the familiarity of the team dynamic. Loud and boisterous, fun and carefree, like they haven’t got a game left tomorrow. Like they all aren’t going to have to sit and watch the playoffs play out, thinking what if, and why not me?

Like they all aren’t getting separated for the summer, scattered across the globe with the ever so slight chance they won’t be reunited again.

Not in this format, at least.

But Poppy’s hand holds his in her lap. Poppy rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to Timo tell her all about Switzerland, hyping her up for all the cool things they’re all going to get to do together, and her looking up at Nico with a beaming smile and eyes like twinkling stars.

Poppy stays glued to his side for the group picture Nicole insists on taking, sandwiched between Nico and Timo with the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face, and he thinks he’s probably looking at her as the camera flashes - meets Nicole’s eyes when she’s looking back at the photo and knows he isn’t looking into the lens. 

Poppy rests her free hand on her bump, strokes little shapes absentmindedly on it in a way that makes Nico’s heart soar with pride.

Poppy sinks into his side when he’s talking to Nicole’s brother, and who doesn’t flinch when Nico introduces her as, “Poppy, my girlfriend,” in a way that just rolls of the tongue with little to no thought behind it.

And Poppy doesn’t bring it up until they’re sat back down at the large, extended dining table, mostly deserted and the room a lot less rowdy now that a few of the guys have cleared out for an early night.

“I’m your girlfriend, now, huh?”

Shit.

“Sounded nicer than Baby Mama,” he chuckles, the laughter quickly dying down when he sees Poppy’s reaction to his words. It’s that same weak smile she had given in her office, earlier. Resigned and reluctant. “To be honest, I didn’t really know how to ask you about it.”

“Usually starts with will you and is followed by be my girlfriend?” She teases, turning into him a little more as he leans into her, opening herself up more to him than she has all night.

“Don’t you think we’re past that, though?” He smiles softly, thankful for the soft beaming light that returns to her eyes. “Girlfriend feels,”

He doesn’t want to say small.

He doesn’t want to say not enough.

He doesn’t want to say anything that might upset her enough to retreat again, but it’s what he means.

He can’t help it.

It just feels juvenile and insufficient.

She’s so much more than that.

And, because she’s Poppy, and because she can’t help but take the burden of having to say it away from him, she takes his hand in hers, thumb rubbing at the top. “I know what you mean.”

Thank God.

“I called Nia earlier, and she called you my boyfriend, and it sorta freaked me out a little.”

“Freaked you out?” He gulps, nerves settling in the pit of his stomach at the fact that taking the next step with him is freaking her out. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Like boyfriend seems,”

And she looks like she’s found herself stuck in the same rut he had been in, moments prior. Knowing what she means, but unable to voice it.

“Limited,” he realises, after a moment of consideration for the way he feels just when he looks at her. “Casual, even.”

“Yes!” She agrees, lips twisting into an approving smile. “That’s exactly it! You’re so much more than my boyfriend, Nico.” 

“So much more,” he hums, leaning in to press his lips straight to hers, trying to memorise how the shape of her smile feels against in the hopes that he can use it if he ever gets that stressed again. Can remember how easy she makes it to wriggle one of these out of her, to make her eyes gleam like they hold all the love in the world in her irises. “Like your husband,” he speaks the words into her mouth like speaking them into existence, drinking up the sound of her laughter when she pushes him away with fingers to his chest.

“Don’t push your luck, baby."

He comes to the conclusion that he was probably moving a little too quick, or a little too reckless earlier that day. He had told himself as much, before the fact, constantly trying to pull himself back and follow Poppy’s lead on things, because she does make life easy in a way he can never comprehend.

How he got from pacing the floors of his apartment in a panicked, sweaty, discombobulated mess mere hours ago to laid beside her in his bed, heart lulled back into a steady, comfortable rhythm, he doesn’t know.

Only the steady rhythm doesn’t make it through the night. Not when she’s clearly mulling something over beside him.

He had thought at first she was thinking so loud he could hear her blink, but when he had looked over, she was turned the other way, and her breaths were coming out in long, slow drawls - similar to those of when she is sleeping, so he had drifted back off.

And then the tossing and turning started. Huffs and puffs and mmphs that she couldn’t seem to control. Facing him, facing away, facing up.

And then she was up, trudging over to the bathroom with slumped shoulders, spending a minute in there before returning to the bed, and plonking herself down in it with little care for how he might be asleep.

Not that he was.

“It’s 3am, Poppy, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Not tired,” she huffs, arms crossing over her chest.

“You’re always tired,” he chuckles, easing his hand into the crook of her elbow and tugging to uncross them. He pulls until she’s sinking closer to him on the mattress, but her body is stiff with tension, and he just wants to ease the load. “Growing my baby is exhausting, remember?” He tries his hand at humour, but she just sighs, shuffling to get comfortable. “Poppy, talk to me.”

“I want to move in with you.” She blurts out, and he feels like he’s going to get whiplash from the flurry of emotions that passes through him.

Relief, gratitude, happiness, confusion.

“That’s what’s keeping you awake?” He asks, like the concept of her sat worrying about that when he’s the one who asked her in the first place is crazy. All this huffing and puffing and interrupted sleep, for what?

“Well, yeah,” she drags out like it’s obvious at all, “Because you asked me and I said no.”

“I remember, I was there,” he chuckles. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

He really doesn’t.

“I didn’t say no because I didn’t want to, Nico,” she almost snaps, her voice tired and her tone direct.

“Poppy,” he levels, “It’s 3am.”

“What are you, talking clock? I know the time! I’ve been staring at it for the past like 4 hours.”

Nico lets out a heavy exhale, sitting up in bed and trying to meet her eyes in the dark. “Why did you say no?”

“I said no because I thought you only asked me because it was something convenient for us to do.” She pouts, “And I want you to want to live with me because you love me, not because your building is more secure.”

“I do love you,” he frowns, like his infatuation with her isn’t the most painstakingly tangible thing in the world. “And I want you to be safe, and to be happy,” 

“Are you in love with me?”

“Is that not what I literally just said?”

“You said you love me,”

“And that’s not the same thing?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

Jesus Christ, he curses to himself, refraining from once again pointing out the time.

Is this a pregnancy thing, he wonders? Losing your mind like this in the middle of the night? Is this what all those dreams have accumulated to? Is this his fault?

“If you’re asking me if all those times I told you that I loved you, did I mean I was in love with you, then yes. I thought that was obvious.”

He’s been in love with her way longer than he feels like he can communicate at such an absurd hour, but he’ll do it if he has to. If tomorrow when they both leave for the arena, he can slip that key he has stashed away onto her keychain and can move on with his day without the stresses of earlier.

“Oh.”

“Was it not obvious?”

“I don’t know.”

“Poppy,”

“What?”

“Do I have to lay it out for you?”

“I mean, only if you want to.”

“It’s 3am.” He reminds her, one last time.

“It’s never too early for declarations of love, Nico.” Her lips twist, and his gut does in response, amusement evident even in the darkened room, eyes glistening with mirth as they meet his.

“I just told you, Mohn, I’ve declared my love over and over.”

“Maybe you should do it again.”

“I’m in love with you, Poppy,”

“With feeling,” she encourages him, shuffling closer until their legs tangle in his favourite way.

“Even when you’re annoying and you won’t let us sleep.”

“Declarations of love can’t include the word annoying, baby.”

Maybe she’s right. How can he be annoyed when she’s calling him pet names and looking at him like that? He’s so in love with her that he’d do anything.

“I’m in love with the way you press your freakishly cold feet between my legs and send my whole body into shock every morning.” He starts, shuffling himself until they’re in his favourite position, facing each other, limbs tangled, her bump pressing into his own stomach, and her hands splayed on his chest. “And when you try to make me breakfast but you for some reason can’t touch a bagel without burning it, and I leave the house every morning smelling like burnt toast.”

“I’m trying my best, there’s a really fine line between them being done and over-done.”

“Whatever you say. I love you when you’re grumpy and hormonal, and you get really specifically annoyed and nothing I do is right but you won’t tell me that so you just huff and puff like a child.”

“I had every right to huff and puff. You asked me to move in with you because your building is safer. That’s not romantic, Nico.” And despite his earlier stress and anxiety, all he can do looking back now is laugh. He’d been so caught up in the mantra of Poppy doesn’t like grand gestures that he hadn’t taken his own words into account. “Is there anything good you love about me?”

“I’ve loved you from the day I met you, Poppy, there’s plenty of good.” And when she raises a brow, urging him to continue, he chuckles, deep and hearty and in a way that wracks through him in delight. “I love how you’re kind, and you’re funny, sometimes I even think of you and laugh,”

She frowns, and Nico can see the argumentative cogs turning in her head. “Well, that’s not-,”

“How you have something to say about everything, even the way I’m baring my soul to you.” He grabs gently at either side of her face, only just smushing her cheeks teasingly before releasing the pressure and holding her in place. “I love how you’ve given a new purpose to my life. How it’s not just me and my job anymore, it’s us and our family, and I never feel like any of this is out of my control. I want you to move in because you’re like home to me, Poppy. I want to wake up every morning I can next to you, I want to finish a long day and end it with you. I want to lay awake half way across the world and think of you in our bed, in our apartment, and know that you’re safe, and nothing can get you here.

“I don’t know how I ever pushed these feelings down for so long, Mohn, because they consume me now. I’ll never get enough of you, of your pretty smile, or that really dorky, snorty laugh you do when you’re tired, or how you always put too much sugar in my coffee and now every time I taste something sweet I think of you.”

The smile she’s giving him might be his favourite, teary eyed and so wide he thinks it must ache in her cheeks. Her lips tremble slightly and her fingertips dig deliciously into his chest. 

“The thought of you being the mother of my child, of her having that dorky laugh, and your pretty sparkly eyes, and me never getting a second of peace between the two of you talking back to me, I feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world. Is that enough feeling for you?”

“Just about.” She whispers, leaning up to press her lips straight to his, cautious not to get too lost in it before he utters his response straight into her mouth.

“Great. Your turn.”

“It’s 3am, Nico,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, playfully. “I love you too, Jeez, are you ever gonna let me sleep?”

“Are you in love with me?”

“I’m so in love with you, that if I weren’t already pregnant right now,” her voice is deeper as she moves closer to him, lips edging toward his ear until they press at the skin just below on his neck, whispering her next words, teasingly. “I’d so let you put a baby in me.”

Nico’s so relieved he doesn’t have neighbours he could possibly wake up with the laugh that comes out of him. A loud exclamation of joy that shines straight back to him through Poppy, a wide grin and shaking shoulders as she giggles back at him.

“That’s an outrageous thing to say considering we’ve only been together officially for,” he checks his watch over her shoulder, “Like 8 hours.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, offering a wink he’s thankful to catch, “When you know, you know.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Ask me again.”

“Will you move in with me, Poppy?”

“Yes.”

Moving Poppy into his apartment - their apartment - had been easier than Nico could have ever hoped. 

She had parted ways a little too easy with most of her furniture, under the sneaky compromise that keeping his stuff and moving into his building, meant that she was owed more closet space as some form of compensation. 

And Nico had figured that it was only a small sacrifice compared to what she was doing - giving up the last remaining scraps of her independence and leaving behind the beautiful home she had built for herself. The home where their relationship had began to flourish. The apartment where the wheels had been set in motion all those months ago for their baby girl to be brought into existence.

He’s sort of thankful her lease situation isn’t entirely sorted yet, with her moving out but still paying the rent until they can figure out what to do with all the stuff she’s leaving behind. Even he isn’t quite ready to say a proper goodbye.

But that’s a problem for when they get back at the end of summer.

A problem for him, at least, because he knows he won’t want her stressing about any of the technicalities at that point. 

It makes him less anxious to leave her, knowing she’s safe in their shared space, and has the benefits of Lionel being downstairs if she needs someone. 

Knowing that his initial worries for her safety ended up, thankfully, being an overreaction, entirely, after Nicole had posted her picture of the group to her public instagram, and the gossipers online had taken that as all the confirmation they needed and swiftly moved on.

Knowing that Poppy’s fully moved in, and they’ve had the luxury of properly co-existing, back in their perfect little bubble for just over a week before he has to leave.

Just over a week of shared mornings, stretched out to the fullest capacity, sometimes even into the early afternoon, the two of them only leaving bed for food and bathroom breaks. 

Late afternoons, when Poppy gets home from work, and curls up with Nico on the couch, him getting more comfortable cooking for her when she ends up falling asleep melted into the cushions, and wakes when her senses kick in and she can smell food being made without her. 

Evenings sat cross-legged on the floor, mapping out an idea for the nursery that will be going into Nico’s mostly-unused home office. Making the travel plans for Poppy to fly out and meet him once all her work back in Jersey is wrapped up, and his work with the national team is over. 

And nights spend curled up under the sheets, Nico promising to show her all the parts of his world that he’s been telling her about all these years.

It’s a life Nico gets a little too lost in, and before he knows it, before he can grasp just how much he loves what they’ve built here, already, it’s time to say goodbye to Poppy.

He tries to drag it out as much as he can.

He sets an earlier alarm, despite her grumbling protests, just so he can spend another 15 minutes with her in his arms.

He drives them both to the airport for her to drive back, spare hand holding hers over the centre console and squeezing in patterns of three every time they hit a red light. 

And he had followed Poppy’s advice, begrudgingly, arriving at the airport with plenty of time to spare, which meant he could take that little longer saying his goodbyes before he really had to go.

Goodbyes that Poppy made harder than he ever thought they could be.

“And I left my shampoo for you to use,” he mumbles into lips that continue to chase his, back starting to ache a little from leaning over the middle of the car but he couldn’t really care less.

“And if I run your water bill up high enough, would you come home to me to investigate?”

“Well, when you make it sound so tempting,” he kisses her, this time, before muttering, “Poppy, you’ve got to let me go.”

“But I just got you,” she pouts, chasing another kiss, “I don’t think we’ve done enough to catch up for all that time we wasted, I think we need to try out your backseat again, one more time for good measure. I promise you can leave straight after, no funny comments from me about it.”

“As nice as that sounds,” he chuckles, “Airport security scares me, I’m not getting into trouble with those guys because my girl is insatiable.”

“You’re boring,” she frowns.

“It’s 4 weeks.”

“That’s so long,” she huffs, still holding onto the front of his shirt.

“I know,” he kisses her again. "But then we have all summer together,” and again, “and by the time we get back here, we’re gonna be getting ready for baby girl to come,” and one more time for good measure. “Just 4 weeks. Maybe not even that,”

“4 weeks. My man has a medal to win.”

His chest swells at the thought of it, and he smiles, in a way that feels like might never fade. “That reminds me,” he jolts, reaching into his pocket for what he had stashed in there when clearing out his locker back at the arena the other week. He zips down the inner compartment and pulls out something that makes her gasp.

“You kept it?” She reaches out, taking the bracelet into a gentle gasp and looking at it with eyes that shine brighter than the jewels bezelled into it. 

“Of course I did,” he smirks as he takes it back to clasp it around her wrist, looking up into her eyes with a sly smirk spreading across his lips, “it was really fucking expensive.”

She swats hard at his chest, trying so hard to suppress an aching grin from taking over her pretty features. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself?”

“Of course, I have precious cargo,” she smiles, hand cradling the bottom of her growing belly, where his reaches out to join, settling his softened gaze on the roundness of it before looking back up at her. 

“You’re precious too, Mohn.” He whispers, and he can’t help himself, kissing her one final, passionate time before pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing her in as much as he can before he leaves. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Nico,” she whispers, words meant just for him, just to settle the growing ache in his bones that won’t be relieved until they’re reunited. 

“I love you too, Poppy.”

Poppy

Poppy has always loved having a space of her own. Ever since moving into her apartment, after having lived with Nia through college and a a little while after, she has relished having a place that is exclusively hers - where she doesn’t have to share responsibilities, doesn’t have to lay down boundaries, or protect what is hers, because everything is hers.

Her comfy Facebook Marketplace couch, that she had found for a steal and her and Nico - mostly Nico - had lugged all the way up to her apartment not long after she had moved in, and holds an abundance of memories, especially lately, that warm Poppy to her very core. Memories of being cuddled up with him, large hands rubbing soothing circles into her belly to try rouse any sort of premature movement in there, while he distracted her entirely from the Harry Potter movies he was supposed to be getting her invested in.

Her big cosy bed, with mountains of pillows Nico constantly grumbles at having to remove when he stays over, cloud-like heaps of blankets that she has to trap him in so that his legs stay under, and she can wrap hers around them before he manages to stick them out in the cold. 

Shelves lined with keepsakes and trinkets - which now includes little framed scan photos, a small pregnancy memory journal sent over by Nico’s mom, where the two of them have been writing little daily messages to their baby girl for her to read one day when she’s older.

And she always thought that when it came to sharing her space, when it came to being in a relationship with someone, progressing to the point of living together, and having a home be theirs and not hers, she’d have wanted it to be somewhere that had been hers, first.

She never thought she would leave her apartment, never thought she’d haul her belongings a few blocks over, give up her couch, her bed, all the random pieces of furniture she had sourced over the years, pack up her trinkets and say goodbye to the last scrap of independence she would ever have with an all-too-ecstatic wave and immerse herself so wholeheartedly into someone else’s home.

But Nico had made it easy. He makes everything easy, Poppy has very quickly realised.

It’s all he has done since they found out she was pregnant. 

Any fears of feeling like an intruder never even had the chance to materialise in her thoughts before he was calling his place theirs, referencing their home like it had always been that way, like she was always destined to be a part of his life, like there’s more to that word for him than walls and belongings. 

He had told her as much all those weeks ago, wrapped up in his sheets in the early hours of the morning, when he had told her that she was like home to him. And she had thought the same - she still thinks the same, but being here without him, she still feels it, despite him being so far away for so long.

She doesn’t feel like a house-sitter, or something temporary.

She feels it in her new routine, in figuring out his appliances, in adjusting his thermostat and shower temperatures to her liking, in replacing some of the books on his shelves he most definitely has never read with her books, her trinkets, her pictures. Their pictures. 

It has become a stark contrast to all those months ago, when she had walked into this space with heavy feet, the weight of the world on her shoulders and the fear of rejection weighing on her heart - when she had taken note of the lack of warmth, or the personality she knew all too well. 

His kitchen shelves are now lined with books of recipes she can’t wait to cook for him when they are co-existing - when summer is over, and their baby is here, and their lives have officially begun. 

She tells him as much when he calls every night, usually when she’s making dinner, and he utters the same sentiments, his features softening into that dopey smile she loves so much when he comments about missing her cooking. He’s usually propped up against the utensil pot, watching intently as she flits around their kitchen, the drawers now memorised so she no longer has to ask him where a tin opener might be, and every time she looks over, he has this far away look in his eyes like he’s watching back a dream.

His call had come a little earlier, today, after she had sent over a voice note she had taken for him at her routine scan. It had been just long enough for him to listen to it before the tell-tale FaceTime ringtone had rung out from her pocket, just as she had been hauling her groceries down the hall to finally make it home after a long day at work.

“Did you send that by accident or is it a distress signal?”

Poppy smiles down at her phone as she makes it through the front door, heading straight for the kitchen and putting the bag of groceries on the counter.

“That’s out daughter’s heartbeat,” she chuckles, admiring the way he leans down onto whatever table he has her propped up on, heart thudding as she realises he’s still out in public, despite it being late where he is, not even able to wait until he gets back to the privacy of his room like normal to call her. “Strongest one this side of the Hudson, so I’ve been told.”

“Oh really?” He rests on his forearms and uses them to support his chin, his smile tired and exhaustion seemingly creeping into his bones. It’s been almost 3 weeks now since they have seen each other, and every night Poppy sees a difference in him - focus increased and motivation teetering. There isn’t long left, though, until she leaves Jersey. Until she heads straight for him and they finally get some time together with no other responsibilities than to be with each other. “You get any pictures?”

“Whoa, kinky,” she smirks when she sees him roll his eyes, heat creeping onto his cheeks, and she huffs out a slight sigh of disappointment when he runs a hand through his hair, and she can see the ear buds carrying her voice to him. She’d only slightly been hoping to embarrass him in public. She deserves the little pleasures, she thinks.

“Of our baby, Poppy,” he huffs, his annoyance entirely forced and the way she charms him evident in the glint in his eyes, even through a phone screen.

“Duh,” she rolls her eyes as her fingers swipe through her phone, looking for the pictures she already had primed to send over to him. 

“If you have any other pictures though, you can send them through. I'll be back in my room in 10 minutes.”

“Nice try,” she scoffs, waiting for the blue line to run the whole way across her screen as the pictures and videos start sending. “That second video, when she turns a little, you can see she has your nose, it’s so cute,” she sighs, dreamily, as she settles the phone back onto the counter, leaning down to watch his reactions as he receives them. She can feel warmth spread through her chest as she takes in the movement of his eyes, flickering across all there is to take in from the latest scan - the tiny developments since the last one, especially considering she had opted for the 3D scan despite how much she thought it might freak her out.

Seeing her baby girl all curled up, tiny hands supposedly waving, little features scrunched up in a mirror image of the man Poppy loves the most in the world - it had really set her emotions off that morning. She had to sit in her car for a good 20 minutes before work, sobbing into a snotty tissue and cursing the time difference for the fact that Nico was probably asleep, not wanting to disturb him just to call and worry him. 

“I think she looks like you,” he mutters, entirely hypnotised by the videos, lips stretched into a soft smile, dimples pushing into his cheeks, emphasising the fresh gash below his eye that she has actively been trying not to look too much at. “She’s so beautiful. Did you get copies?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna put them straight into my carry on so I don’t forget to bring them over. Got a copy for your mom, too.”

“She’ll love the nose thing.”

“It’s a cute nose,” Poppy hums, “A strong one, too, swear she’s like a sniffer dog in there, I’ve been craving mac and cheese all day since she smelled someone else’s lunch yesterday. Had to go buy a grater just so I can make some from scratch.”

“I don’t have a cheese grater?”

“Not that I could find,” Poppy frowns, having searched high and low in every cupboard and drawer when she got home last night, “Although neither of us should be surprised, Nico, you don’t even have a full set of pans,”

“Why would I need a full set? I only ever use one at a time.”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit, baby, we both know you live off of meal prep delivery.” She jokes, and he shakes his head in silent denial. “But don’t worry,” she picks her phone up and switches the camera to show him the pan set she had brought home with her yesterday, “I’m here to improve your life one pot at a time.”

“Is that how you’re spending your evening?” He asks, “Stocking our kitchen with new stuff?”

“That’s the plan for tomorrow, actually,” she smiles, picturing all the shopping she can do as she starts unpacking all the ingredients for her dinner, “My dad said he found a bunch of old baby clothes in their garage, he had a meeting this way today and is gonna bring them over for me to look at tonight.”

“Your baby clothes?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping, you should see the way they dressed OlI when he was a baby, like half of his genetic structure was colour-block Gymboree.”

“I have no idea what that means,” he frowns, adorably, eyes gleaming still with the beginnings of a fond smile.

“Trust me, you don’t want to, he looks like a clown in all his baby photos. Hideous.” She shudders as she focuses her attention back on the phone, catching a glimpse of Nico stifling a yawn and checking the time. He isn't usually out of his room at this time, usually getting settled in for the night, lounging in his bed so he gets to say goodnight to her. She doesn’t really want to keep him if he’s tired. “He should be here soon, so I’ll let you go get your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get,” he chuckles, a finger wagging toward the cut on his cheek with a tired smile. “Text me before you sleep, so I can wake up to it?” She nods. “Love you, Poppy,” The casual manner in which he utters the words does little to quell the excitement they arouse.

“Love you too, Nico.”

Poppy feels lighter than air as she pads around the apartment after their call has ended, unpacking her groceries into the refrigerator, keeping out what she needs so that she can start cooking up her dinner - her grandmother’s mac and cheese, the secrets of her recipe finally bestowed upon her now that she has someone to make it for - her phone hooked up to his speaker system, filling the space with her favourite music in a way that already makes it feel like she has been there forever. 

She cuts up her cauliflower and puts it in a pan to steam before she gets to work making her sauce, grating an almost excessive amount of cheese and giving herself an almighty ache in her arm.

It isn’t too long before she gets a message from Lionel - him now texting her to alert her of any visitors coming up, the familiarity ironing out that last crease of imposter syndrome where she had feared she might have to run is by Nico, his concierge now treating her like a proper resident.

So when the knock at the door comes, she practically skips over, a giant smile pushing at her cheeks as she reaches to open it, only for it to drop at who’s on the other side. 

“Don’t look too excited to see me, Honey,” Poppy’s mom rolls her eyes as she pushes past her, trailing two large holdalls behind her as she steps into Nico’s apartment, dropping them just past the door before she stretches her arms dramatically. 

Poppy cranes her neck out of the open door to look for any sign of her dad, any sign of a buffer or safety net to fall into, because there’s no way in hell she’s going to have to suffer her mom’s presence on her own, right now. 

“Is dad bringing more bags up here, or something?”

“No, he got held up with a working dinner, I said I’d bring this stuff over.”

She watches her mother as she slowly steps further into the apartment, casting a judgemental eye around in a way that immediately gets Poppy’s back up, feeling protective of the space already, hesitant to close the door in an attempt to give the negative energy a way out.

She can’t keep it open forever, though, not when her mom seemingly has no plans to leave.

“Is that grandma’s mac and cheese?” She asks as she enters the kitchen, lifting the lid on the pot of steaming cauliflower.

“Yeah, she finally gave me the recipe for the sauce, and I’ve been craving it all week.”

“You’ll need to take that off the heat, soon, or it will be like mush at the bottom.”

Poppy’s eyes roll by instinct as she lets out a huff, stomping toward where her mother is stood and flicking the switch for the burners. “I know what I’m doing, I literally have a step-by-step,”

“You don’t have to turn everything into an argument, Poppy, I was just saying.” She steps away from the stove, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “God forbid I try to help you.”

“You’re not trying to help, Mom, you’re hovering,” she scoffs, “Like you literally came over just to judge.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she scoffs, “I’m hardly judging, I’ve said one thing.”

Poppy bites her tongue from retorting, one thing too many, but something starts bubbling inside her, too strong for her to swallow down, this time.

She thinks it might be Nico’s doing, this new instinct to defend herself - defend herself to her mother, at least, because God knows she has no troubles doing it with anyone else. She had always thought she had a handle on her, could control herself, could throw quick jabs back to lessen the blow of scrutiny and shame that’s usually sent her way by her mother, but hearing how Nico had stood up to her dad, she realises she’s just been masking a problem this entire time. She’s never really stood up to her, never really let her know all the ways in which she’s been hurt by her mom’s judgements over the years, too scared to stick around for what might be the final blow, too scared of the impact, or that neither of them may ever recover from it. 

But it has to be better than this - than the constant holding of her breath in anticipation of it coming. It isn’t doing either of them any favours. There’s only so far her sarcasm will get her, now. 

“I swear you hate that I don’t rely on you,” she says, softly - not through trepidation or doubt, but because she doesn’t want this space to be one where voices are raised, where tears are brought to her eyes and lumps to her throat. “I’ve lived on my own for years, cooked for myself every day almost, and it’s like you can’t even fathom for a second I might not need or want your help.”

“I’m not arguing with you over macaroni, Poppy.”

“This isn’t about macaroni, it’s about you having an incessant need to make me feel like crap. It’s like you can’t stand that I can do things on my own.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

Well, there it is.

Poppy hadn’t been expecting it to take her aback quite like this, breath held, shoulders tensed, mouth agape. There’s a shrill, nagging voice that harps, I told you so, in her head, but it does little to help. She hadn’t really wanted to be right.

If she’s entirely honest, she wanted her mom to shut her down, again. To tell her she’s being stupid, to tell her she’s proud of her independence, and is just being catty because that’s who she is. That’s who she’s always been. 

“What?”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t stand the way you behave. Maybe I loathe it,”

Her hand falls almost by instinct to cradle the curve of her bump, like she’s trying to lessen the impact, to not let the hurt she feels seep all the way to where her baby girl lays in her belly, peaceful and darling and blissfully unaware of the pain that can be inflicted by a mother’s sharp tongue.

“Maybe I wish for once in your life you’d be serious, and think about things before you just dive headfirst into situations you have no business being in. And subjecting a baby to them, nonetheless. God, Poppy, I’ve always known you to be impulsive but this,” her mother’s hand flops almost dismissively her way, hard eyes set straight on her stomach before twirling on the spot and gesturing around them, “And all this, you think you’re being independent? You’re being careless and selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Not raising her voice goes straight out the window, “First of all I’m irresponsible for not living with Nico, and now I’ve moved in with him, I’m careless? Nothing I do will ever be enough for you, will it?”

“It’s not about me,”

“Yeah, right,”

“This is about your baby,”

“Don’t act like you care about my baby,” Poppy scoffs, “She’s not just another thing you can try to control. You don’t always know what’s best, Mom, and I don’t want my daughter feeling the way I feel around you, it isn’t good for any of us, so I’m gonna ask you one more time to stop.”

“Stop what? Trying to help you-,"

“You’re not helping! I don’t know how many more times I can say it! I don’t understand how I can try my best to get everything right and you just pick out all the flaws!” Here come the tears in her eyes, and the lump in her throat, too.

Of course it would have been her mother to burst her happy bubble, yet again.

“Because somebody has to open your eyes to the fact that this isn’t the dream you think it is, Poppy! Pregnancy, being a mother, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and handsome boyfriends who move you into their fancy apartments and promise you the world-,”

“Oh, here we go again,” Poppy fires back, “What is it then? I gave you lopsided breasts and thin hair so now you get to ruin my life?”

“Not you-,”

“Right, like you’d ever give golden boy Oliver this kind of grief,”

“Your sister.”

Poppy can feel a rush of blood to the head.

Her what?

She knows deep in her heart her mother would never do crack, but maybe she picked up something else at one of her luncheons. Maybe she accidentally stumbled into one of those botox parties and they injected a little too deep into her forehead. 

No, Poppy thinks, she can see frown lines, still.

“Her name was Primrose. Rosie. She was my first.”

There’s a steady, softer tone to her mom’s voice that Poppy hasn’t heard in years. An undertone of reminiscence and longing. Of love.

Her feet carry her by instinct, rounding past her mother and heading for the couch, patting the space beside her and meeting her mother’s eyes with a somewhat solemn gaze.

“She was from a relationship I had before your father and I got together. I was nineteen, and in college, and I had all these great things lined up for my future. I had this concrete plan, and there was nothing in the world that was gonna take me away from it. Build a career, build something for myself, and then start a family. But then I met a boy.”

It isn’t exactly how things had worked out for Poppy, but the outline seems the same. Career focused, strong minded, independent, and then, bam! Nico.

“His name was Charlie, he was an aspiring chef, working a bunch of jobs to get him through culinary school, he was a real grafter, that’s what your grandpa used to say. He was so charming, made me feel like the whole world revolved around me.” She smiles wistfully as she looks back on that time in her life, a softness to her that Poppy doesn’t quite recognise. One that’s already bringing those tears straight back to her eyes and that lump straight back to her throat. 

Charming, made her feel like the world revolved around her. Yeah, that’s a familiar outline, alright. 

“And you know how your grandparents are, they encouraged it, if anything. Grandma is always drawn in by the dreamers, she used to tell me all the time how good he was for me.”

The lump intensifies, her blood running cold at all the possibilities of where this could go.

“Everything was so perfect, until it wasn’t.”

He better not have hurt her, she thinks. She doesn’t care how old he may be now, or how pregnant is. She’ll find Chef Charlie and beat him black and blue.

“Rosie had Downs Syndrome, we found out around half way through the pregnancy.”

For as long as Poppy has been alive, her mother has worked with the Downs Syndrome Association, hosting galas and fundraising events every year - helping raise money through sponsorships to assist with education, and to support those affected as well as their families. It’s the one thing she’s always loved doing with her - seeing her so passionate and focused. And now she’s cursing herself for never wondering why - always taking that devotion to the cause and paying too much attention to her brother’s mouth in her ear, telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, not to question why her mom only ever lit up in that environment.

“That’s why you run the benefit.” It’s not really a question, at this point. A realisation, more than anything, the weight of it settling into her spine.

“It makes me feel closer to her.”

“What happened?”

“Charlie, he had all these plans for what our life was gonna be after he found out I was pregnant. He was going to work his way up in a restaurant, was gonna do everything he could to support us and build something for the three of us that was more than what he had growing up. My parents offered to support, but he was so set on being the provider. He made everything seem so perfect and so easy.”

Easy, like Nico, Poppy thinks. She had the same sentiment about him, earlier.

“Having a kid with special needs didn’t fit into this version of life he wanted to live, so he bowed out the first chance he got. I made it to 32 weeks on my own before she-,”

Of all the things she can say about her mom, Poppy doesn’t think she’s ever seen her choked up like this. It makes her blood run cold.

“After 28 weeks, a miscarriage is considered a stillbirth, you have to physically give birth, there isn’t another way, so they induce labour, and I didn’t want to take any time to think about it so I had them do it as soon as I found out. Your grandparents were on a cruise off the coast of Greece, and Charlie was nowhere to be found. I had to deliver a baby I knew was already gone, on my own, with nobody to hold my hand.”

Poppy takes a hold of it immediately, as if clasping her fingers around her mother’s now will make up for having no one around to do it back then, when she needed it the most.

“She was so beautiful, Poppy. She had this little button nose, she looked so delicate I didn’t want to touch her too much when they let me hold her, she was so tiny and fragile.”

Her scan earlier in the day had been 3D, a multidimensional view of her little girl’s features, little nose, pouty lips, tiny hands. To think about the size of her in context, around the size of a mango or a large tomato, she can’t fathom what it would be like to hold her in her hands. Despite only being 19 weeks along, the thought of it makes her heart thud rampant and uneasily in her chest.

“I had all these ideas of what she could do, and what she would be, and I never let go of those, even when she was diagnosed. I had prepared myself for what life with a special needs child could be, I’d read all the books, I’d gone to a support group at the local community centre, and I’d dreamed up this great life for her. And we just never got to live it. No amount of therapy of counselling can ever erase that version of your life from your head.”

Poppy thinks about all the dreams she has for her little girl, all the ideas she already has of what she might be, might look like, might act like. To never get to see that would break her entirely.

“Your dad helped me through it after. I knew him since we were younger, always knew he was an option, but he was safe, and I always pushed him to the side. But after Rosie, after Charlie, I didn’t really want to be a dreamer anymore, didn’t want to think up these idealistic scenarios that would never come to be. Going down my own path, with Charlie, with all of it, it took me somewhere too dark to ever fathom a way out. And then your father became my light.”

Her parents have never been the lovey-dovey kind of parents, the ones that would make their children yuck with PDA or sentimentality, but they’ve always been solid. Always on the same page, always showing up for each other.

She's always thought her mom was the backbone of the two. Her father is strong, that has never been in question, but her mother has always seemed unwavering in her resilience for life in a way her dad doesn't measure up.

“Getting through my pregnancy with Oli was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but he was so easy. I never really got sick, all his scans were clear, his heartbeat strong, he moved all the time. His delivery was so quick it was like I sneezed him out.” That same wistful smile returns to her lips, and Poppy can feel the but coming a mile off, can sense her defences building back up at the impending jab, at the certain comparison where Oli always comes out on top. “And then you came.”

The you sounds more defeated than pointed. The smile drops, but not entirely, and tears begin to well in her mom’s eyes again.

“You never wanted to be where the doctor wanted you to be, you kept your legs crossed for so long every time we thought we were going in to find out your gender, we’d leave disappointed, and your dad ended up deciding we should just leave it until you were born to find out. Not do the extra tests. Let the cards fall where they may. You didn’t move that often, and I was always anxious something was happening to you.”

Cheeto’s been moving more, lately. Within the last couple of weeks, Poppy has started to feel it. Routinely, in fact, so she can’t imagine what it would be like to go days without it, now. She’d be the same, worrying all the time, thinking something was wrong - and that’s without ever having experienced any problems before. Having a previous loss looming over her head must have driven her mother crazy.

“It wasn’t until you came out after 12 hours, where they had to manually reposition you at one point when you were breached, and just as they decided they might cut me open, you started crowning. After all that trauma, you came out and you were a girl, and your dad was so happy, but I-,” Poppy sort of knows this part. Her father had been praying for a girl, had celebrated as if the Giants had won the Super Bowl. And all she knows of her mom is what she’s told her in the plainest words. She had pretty bad postnatal depression after Poppy was born. She was pretty much nursed by nannies, and Poppy had always just assumed that’s where the rift stemmed from. “I just remember sobbing. Your dad bonded with you straight away, but every time I looked at you, I thought of her. Of Rosie. They tried putting me on medication but it never really took this feeling away that something was off, and, looking back, when I found out I was having another daughter, I think I projected a lot of what I wanted for Rosie onto you. I was always planning to be her caretaker for as long as it took, so I probably tried to control you a little more than I did Oliver. And I understand that’s unfair, but bringing a girl into this world is more difficult. You have this responsibility to prepare her for the weight of it.”

Prepare her, control her, be her caretaker. She supposes they all link. It makes sense, trying to stamp this life she had dreamed up on Poppy because she never got to do it with her sister. She never stood a chance to try forge her own path, not really. Small failures in her mother’s care after that initial loss set the foundations for the rest of Poppy’s life - an ignorance to the pain she was struggling with, and belittling of her grief, resulted in someone clinging so desperately to her own control that she flattened her daughter with it. 

“No one ever prepared me, Poppy. I love your grandparents, but they didn’t set me up to handle what I went through. And despite everything that I tried to warn you of, despite everything I tried to mould you to be, all the ways I tried to protect you, all you ever wanted to do was defy me. All the time. All the way down to those scars on your knees from not wearing the pads on your bike.” Priscilla’s hand gestures to where Poppy’s legs rest between them, a reminiscent scoff falling from her lips. “I tried so hard to shield you from a life you just wanted to dive headfirst into, no helmet or anything. You never listened, you wouldn’t make a plan for your future, you attend a college doing a degree for something that isn’t a guaranteed career path. In fact, you deny having your hand held down a guaranteed path when your father offered you all those jobs. You move into a city on your own, into a high crime neighbourhood, into a job surrounded by boisterous men, and somehow you hold your own.”

There’s an underlying sense of pride that Poppy can feel now - for all the ways her mom wants to paint these things as faults or inconveniences, she also sees them as strengths.

Maybe a part of her has all a long. A version of herself from before life came at her full force, a version of her clinging to whatever surface she can find to hold on and prevail.

“And you fall in love with one of them, with a boy who isn’t safe. Who knocks on your door out of nowhere one day, and you tell me he’s there to whisk you away, and it takes me straight back to being nineteen again, to having a man who, despite making me feel like it revolved around me, turned my world upside down. So maybe I can’t stand to see you making the same mistakes, knowing what kind of pain it can cause.”

Poppy remembers the day her mom had met Nico for the first time. They had been getting ready for one of the fundraisers for the Downs Syndrome Association - her mom on edge all day, micromanaging everything Poppy did, and she had answered a knock at the door to see Nico on the other side. Her dislike of him had been brewing even before then. It isn’t even Nico she dislikes. It’s everything that he represents, crashing into her life at a time that things were resurfacing. It all makes sense, now. “That’s why you got so hell-bent on setting me up?”

“Nico seems like a good enough man, Poppy,” She doesn’t know the half of it, Poppy thinks. “And I see that he makes you happy, I’m not blind to what the two of you have, or have had for a while now. But his life, his career, it’s not a sure thing. He has a lot of pressure outside of your relationship, and he might not be the best bet for when things go wrong. I just wanted you to have something more stable.”

Poppy lets the words linger for a minute. To dwell on the situation as a whole - a lifetime of anguish between the two of them, and finally she knows the cause. 

She really wishes she could have a drink right about now. It would probably ease the tension a whole lot more, sharing a bottle of wine with her mom to really break bread. 

But the more she thinks, the more she’s sure of her response to all of it.

“I’d bet on him.”

There’s no use in telling her mom she’s sorry for what she went through. She hopes her presence is enough of an indication of that - that she’d never want to even think of her mother dealing with that kind of grief, alone. 25 years of control isn’t going to be resolved with one conversation, she knows that - knows her mom knows it, too. And it doesn’t entirely explain a lot of her other behaviours, either, so it probably isn’t going to be the only heart to heart they have. But all she can now do is explain herself. Tell her side of the story she’s trying to write for herself and hope her mom ends up too invested in the ending to close the book completely.

“I’d bet everything I have that he won’t let me down. And you might think that’s shortsighted, or naive, but I need it to be enough for you. What Nico and I have, it started off impulsive, and a little chaotic, and messy, but I promise you, it’s stable. We’ve both put a lot of work into what we have to make it safe, I really need you to trust me on that.” 

And Poppy isn’t saying it for argument’s sake. She isn’t trying to defend something she isn’t sure on, herself. Nico would never leave her when things get hard, he’s proven as much to her already. He’s taken the baby steps, he’s integrated her entirely into his life, into his family, into his home - and even disregarding all that, it isn’t in his character. He’s loyal, and supportive, and honest. He won’t let her down.

“I may be a little hard-headed, and defiant, and stubborn when it comes to what you want for me, Mom, but I would never be reckless when it comes to what’s best for my baby.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Poppy, but I thought Charlie was the best-,”

“Nico isn’t Charlie.”

She feels a little harsh to say it, but it’s the truth. Her mom can’t hold her own misfortunes over Poppy for the rest of her life, it isn’t fair.

“And as much as you might think I’m not prepared enough to come to that conclusion, that I don’t know until something happens, I know him. And I know myself. I’ve spent years trying to push these feelings that I have down and it’s done nothing but hurt me. If you gave him a chance, you’d have seen it for yourself, he doesn’t give up, not for anything.”

There’s another prolonged silence as her mom mulls on her thoughts, and Poppy can practically see the transition of emotions pass through her. Hesitation, doubt, confusion, deliberation, and then finally, acceptance. 

“Maybe when the two of you get back from your time in Europe, we can put that to the test.”

Poppy can feel her face drop, mouth agape, eyes widened, brows raised, but she can’t find it in her to care how dramatic she might look. Her mother, who would rather have her hands hammered or swallow nails than admit she may have been wrong, is willing to give her a real shot to prove herself to her.

“You’ll really give him a chance?”

“Let’s not be rash. Baby steps, darling,” her mom rolls her eyes playfully.

Poppy can’t quite believe the serendipity of the situation.

It had been in this exact spot, in this exact apartment, that those words had been uttered to her those few months ago. Hands held between her and Nico, and a promising glint in his eyes and certainty to his tone. 

And she feels the same optimism that she had back then.

She feels her face break out into an almost aching grin, tears welling at her eyes as she leans in to hug her mom, feeling the gentle rub of maternal comfort ease into her spine. 

She invites her mom to stay for dinner, the two of them working in tandem to make her grandmother’s mac and cheese, Poppy actually accepting her mother’s helping hand, and they eat together while Poppy catches her up on all the latest with her scans and tests, and all the ever developing symptoms of her pregnancy.

And as she burrows herself into her and Nico’s bed later in the night, body swallowed in sheets that smell of his detergent, surrounded by everything that reminds her of him, she just feels warm all over.

She thinks to herself that maybe this place is magic. Maybe he’s magic, healing a lifelong rift between her and her mother from over 4,000 miles away. 

And there’s no maybe about the fact that she can see forever with him. 

That, she’s sure of.

Poppy has never had any issues when it comes to flying. 

Having being fortunate enough to have vacationed with her family every year up until she turned 16, and her parents stopped inviting her, she’s never been bothered by planes or airports or travel.

In fact, she quite likes the whole process. Packing everything meticulously into little cubes, organising those into co-ordinated cases pulled at either side of her body as she ambles through the terminal, mooching around the shops for little trinkets and stocking up on copious amounts of candy. Lounging around her gate until it’s time to board and settling it in, ears cushioned by thick headphones and a nice mellow playlist to calm the chaos of her day so far, or to set the mood for the flight ahead. She likes watching in-flight movies, even likes the gross in-flight meals, always food she’d never dream in a million years of eating outside of whatever tin can she’s residing in for the next few hours. She doesn’t even mind turbulence.

But she hasn’t travelled such a long distance in a few years.

And she has never done so whilst pregnant.

All the glamour of travelling overseas, along with all the small pleasures she has found over the years, is quickly outweighed by the fact she now has to wear compression socks. Now has to keep drinking water throughout the day, which means she has to keep peeing, keep walking around despite the muscles at the bottom of her back begging her to sit back down. 

And she had thought in the days leading up to her flight that she had been keeping a brave face on her daily calls with Nico, not letting her stress about the whole thing impact his mood, or his focus leading up to semifinals of the world championship, but she’s never been so thankful for someone’s stubborn perception than when she had opened her door the night before her flight to see his sister stood on the other side of it.

“Nina?” She asks, dumbfounded, before slender arms are thrown around her, rubbing gently at her back as she sways a little into the cuddle.

“Hey, travel buddy!”

“What’s going on, what are you doing here?” Poppy asks as she welcomes her in, heart jumping erratically at the sight of her. Nina was supposed to meet her on the other side of her flight, being her ride from the airport to the hotel while Nico would be in training, and she kind of feels like her nerves have manifested her into the apartment like some sort of thirst-induced mirage. 

“Nico was getting all antsy at the thought of you travelling alone, so I’m supposed to say we decided as a family for one of us to come out and travel with you, but the truth is I may or may not have been bribed.”

“What did he bribe you with?”

“Said you’d name your daughter after whoever came.” She smiles victoriously as she makes her way through the apartment with ease, throwing herself onto the couch, just beside where Poppy has two big open cases splayed out on the floor, almost fully packed. “I had to literally pull my mom out of a cab to beat her to the airport.”

“Sounds just like the kind of Hischier family dynamics I was promised, to be fair,” Poppy chuckles, joining her in the living room and perching herself on the floor beside her cases, carrying on with her previous task of organising that she had been preoccupied with before the mysterious knock at the door. “You’re just in time actually, I was about to order some food, I’ve cleared out the refrigerator so you can take your pic of what we get if you want!”

Nia had been around earlier in the afternoon, and had helped Poppy prep the apartment to be left empty for a few months, which included clearing out all the perishable food and hauling it down to the waste disposal  room because the bag wouldn’t fit down the chute, and neither of them wanted to be held responsible for clogging it up for the whole building. She had helped her figure out what to pack, as well as bring over some travel essentials she had picked up from CVS, creating a little kit for Poppy to take on the plane with her.

Face mist, hand sanitiser, an eye mask, ear plugs and intensive lip balm - a lifesaver considering the amount Poppy has been nervously chewing on her bottom lip for the past few days straight. 

And then she had left, in an emotional goodbye where Poppy had waited until Nia was in the elevator to burst into tears, distraught at the thought of not seeing her best friend for the next few months.

It isn’t the first time they’ve ever been apart this long, but Nia has been her rock throughout her pregnancy, and leaving her behind just as all the fun parts of the whole experience are starting to kick in feels sad. But with promises made to call as often as possible, and assurances that Nia will spend the next few months meticulously planning a welcome home-baby shower hybrid, the tears soon cleared up as Poppy distracted herself making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. 

“Aren’t you craving anything?” Nina asks as she slips down onto the floor beside her, the two of them kneeling next to each other. 

“To be honest, I felt sick before you got here, so I hadn’t really thought about it.” Poppy shrugs. She had been planning to go to bed, try and sleep away her anxiety, but she doesn’t want to seem irresponsible, not to Nina. “There’s a really great Italian place not too far from here that delivers, though. And now that you mention cravings they do these little tubs of tiramisu and if I don’t get one before I leave it’s all I’ll think about for the next four months.”

“I’m sold, we could share if you’re not too hungry.”

“We’ll share pasta, I share dessert with no one.”

“That’s fair,” Nina chuckles as she helps Poppy push herself up, her bump becoming more of a hinderance to her usual habits with every day that passes.

She ambles over to the TV console where her phone had been discarded and works at ordering the two of them dinner through her PostMates app, agreeing to share some lasagne and get a tub of dessert each.

Nina helps her sort her cases until they’re ready to zip up, and agrees to do one final check of her bag she’ll be taking on the plane so she has a fresh set of eyes to suggest anything else she might need.

“You know your hotel room will have pillows, right?” Nina scoffs, pulling one of the pillows from Poppy’s bed out of the carry-on. “Why do you have one in your bag?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” Poppy sighs, collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“You’re having a baby with my little brother, Poppy, that ship has already sailed.” She laughs, turning to look at Poppy with the same look Nico usually gives her, exasperated somewhat but entirely fond. It makes her miss him that much more. The same dark chocolate eyes, same dimpled smile. “Promise I won’t judge, girl talk is a safe space.”

Poppy smiles, fond in her own way.

She hasn’t spent much time alone with Nina. They’ve met a few times before, hung out with Nico, with his parents, with the team - at bars, restaurants, even the arena - and Poppy remembers a couple times where Nina and her had both uttered the same sentiment. It’s nice to have another girl around. 

“I haven’t washed his pillowcase since he left,” she admits, feeling her cheeks flush already, "And I just carry it around the apartment and sniff it sometimes when I miss him.” It only barely smells like him still, but it had gotten her through those first two weeks more than she’d like to admit, shuffling over to his side of the bed to breathe him in every morning like he’d only gone out for training, and would be back before she knew it.

“Yeah, that’s weird.”

“You said no judging,” Poppy pouts.

“I lied.”

“I was gonna take it on the plane with me tomorrow.” Her flight is in the late afternoon, and she has no doubts around the fact that once her butt touches base into her designated seat, she’ll be out like a light. If it weren’t for her constant need to pee, and warnings to have intervals on her feet, she would hope to sleep the whole way through. What’s better than closing her eyes in one country and waking in another? The miles between her and Nico reduced to mere double-digits, she can’t wait for this heaviness on her chest to dissipate into nothing the second she’s breathing the same air as him. “Figured if I’m gonna be uncomfortable for 9 hours straight it might help.”

“So happy that you’re reuniting soon, because I think you’ve lost your mind,”

“Yeah,” Poppy sighs in agreement, because there’s really no use denying it, now. A month without him, longing to be with him, missing him in even the most mundane ways has well and truly sent her off the handle. Nia had told her as much, earlier, too. And Luke when she’d text him asking if he happens to see Nico in passing while he’s overseas to please send her pictures like a crazed stalker. “I thought I’d be better at this whole thing, but I miss him more than I ever have before.”

“That’s cute,” Nina smiles, sympathy glimmering in her dark irises as she tilts her head and watches the way Poppy’s own features shift.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“He has this thing whenever he talks about you, like his eyes get all animated and turn into hearts,” she smirks, “Yours do the same. It’s sweet.”

Poppy feels her mouth stretching, a deep smile tugging at each corner of her lips. “Cheeto kind of does the same thing, shuffles a little in my belly when she hears him.” She’s noticed it the last few days, slight movements whenever Nico calls, whenever his voice rings out from the confines of her phone and warms her entire body. And despite everything she reads online about how it isn’t possible for her baby to hear anything outside of her body yet, she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s a reaction to the way Poppy’s heart sings for him, instead. 

“Baby Nina, you mean?” Poppy rolls her eyes fondly as Nina settles beside her on the couch. “Are you sure she isn’t trying to shield herself from how sickening the two of you are?”

“Possibly,” Poppy’s lips twist, “I can’t believe I’m sat here whining about how much I miss him when it’s been a few weeks, you don’t get to see him for most of the year.”

“It’s different,” Nina places a comforting hand on Poppy’s arm, “You two are building a life together, as much as he’s my brother and I love him, my world doesn’t revolve around him like your world does.” Poppy nods, mulling that fact over in her head. “That came out sounding worse than I meant, I think-,”

“No, not at all,” she reassures her, shifting her arm to take her hand, “You’re right, it’s so weird being at this phase of my pregnancy and trying to wrap my mind around how everything is gonna work and him not being here, it’s a little like a mental block.”

Having her world revolve around him isn’t a bad thing, she doesn’t think. 

Telling the Poppy from a year ago that she’d be at peace with having her world revolve around any man would have had her throwing punches. Telling the girl who valued her independence like her hottest commodity - who barely liked to share her time, let alone her space, her day, her bed, with anybody else - that she would have moved in with her boyfriend, ready to start a family together and planning their final child-free summer over text threads would have been like telling her the moon was made out of cheese.

Ludicrous, but ever so slightly intriguing.

But it’s all so familiar now. All so right.

“One more day, Poppy,” Nina just so happens to echo the sentiment that Poppy has been telling herself all day. All week, all month, ever since that day outside the airport, counting down the days until this one, twisting the bracelet around her wrist nervously as if it’s a tether straight to him. “This time in 24 hours, we’ll be almost there.”

One more day, she repeats in her head, nodding with a smile to Nina and taking a deep breath.

She can do one more day.

Only one more day turns into almost two until Poppy is reunited with Nico.

She thinks she cursed herself, if she’s honest, whispering to her bump just before she had gone to sleep that night that they would be reunited with daddy before either of them knew it.

And then the travel day from hell occurred.

She thinks if she didn’t have Nina, she would have had an almighty breakdown - but every time she looked over and met those warm eyes, the tears in her own dissolved.

It had started with traffic on the way to the airport, a police incident on the skyway tripling the usual 20-minute travel time, and the only thing Poppy could find to be grateful for is that they had got an Uber instead of her driving, knowing her stress would have been tenfold if she was stopping and starting all the time. 

Lucky for her, she always allows for delays in her planning, and they made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, check-in going without a hitch, thankfully, and still giving them time to peruse for snacks to keep Poppy’s cravings at bay for the 9 hour flight ahead.

Time that, in the end, didn’t matter, because their flight kept getting delayed. 

At first it was an hour, a problem with the initial departure of the inbound plane, and Poppy could deal with that. They were due to land in the early hours of the morning in Prague, anyway, so getting there an hour later didn’t really bother her. She had Nina for company, an abundance of snacks, and access to clean toilets in the airport lounge. She could have been trapped on the tin can, so all things considered an hour was too little of a delay for her to get worked up about.

That hour soon turned into two, which turned into three, and Poppy could feel her resolve dwindling as she watched the clock tick down. The first hour was more of an inconvenience than a problem. The second hour meant she probably wouldn’t make it to the hotel in time to spend some time in the room with Nico before he left, which was disheartening, but not entirely earth shattering. The third hour meant she wouldn’t get to see him at all before he left for the arena. 

Nina was trying her best to keep on top of Poppy’s nerves, but even the power of those glimmering Hischier brown eyes couldn’t outweigh a delayed flight and an irksome lack of communication from the airline. 

The only silver lining to the whole situation is the depth at which two people can bond when forced to just sit and wait together.

She learns more about Nina than Nico could ever tell her - about her career, her passions, her interests. Her love for volleyball, and various other sports, for travel, including her bucket list of countries to visit, and an already-planned itinerary of what she would want to do in each one. The two of them shared stories of their own travels over the years, gushing over secret spots they had both visited in the few spots they shared an interest in. Nina regaled Poppy with childhood stories of Nico, ones even her parents weren’t privy to - and it reinforces a lot of the things Poppy has learned herself about him over the years - of his love for learning, always wanting to educate himself, better himself. His love for trying new things, and how, despite being the youngest sibling, always encouraged his brother and sister to do the same. 

They talk about music, about movies and TV shows, fashion, podcasts, food, their differing experiences in college, and by the time it is finally time to board their flight - after replenishing their stock of snacks - their conversation carries on seamlessly until half the journey has passed, almost. 

Talking to Nina is easy. She’s friendly and charming, in a way Poppy is sure must run in their genes - hopes it does, and is passed down to her daughter like their brown eyes and dimpled smiles - and there isn’t a second of hesitance when it comes to her caring for Poppy like a little sister.

It’s the kind of sibling bond she has never really had before.

Her and Oli didn’t argue that much when they were kids, but their difference in age created an unmovable barrier between the two of them, and so they were never as close as the Hischier siblings appear to be.

It makes Poppy think of her mom, again. Think of Rosie, and the what-if of growing up with a big sister, herself. Would they have bonded over things like clothes and music? Would they have been each other’s shoulders to lean on? Knowing that it was ever a possibility makes her feel a lack that wasn’t there those couple of weeks ago, when she hadn’t ever known of her sister’s existence. 

And she knows it’s strange to hope that building a relationship with Nina might fulfil that - edging herself into whatever gap the Hischier family might leave for her might make up for this gap in her own heart that now she feels will never be filled again - but spending the day with her makes her long for something she never spared a thought to before now.

She looks after Poppy in the way a big sister would, too. Makes sure she’s getting up and walking around intermittently, makes sure whenever the beverage cart comes around, she’s ordering refreshments to make sure Poppy stays hydrated. She keeps a watchful eye on the WC when Poppy starts shifting in her seat, lets her know when the vacant sign lights up above the door so Poppy can amble over and relieve the growing pressure on her bladder from trying to constantly drink. 

And when Nina finally lets herself drift off, Poppy can’t help but stay awake, teary eyed, wondering how she ever got so lucky.

How she was lucky enough to have a partner like Nico, so in tune with her emotions that he sent his sister over to keep her company when she didn’t even know at that point it would be exactly what she needed. How she was lucky enough to have an extended family that cared enough about her to agree to it, to fight over the responsibility, as Nina had implied her and Katja had done. How she was lucky enough to get on so well with Nina, to talk to her almost non-stop for hours on end, to bond over their appreciation of so many things that stretches so far beyond their shared love of Nico. 

She gets so caught up in her appreciation that she eventually drifts off with a dopey smile on her face, the dimmed lights of the cabin soothing her to sleep for the rest of their flight, and she lets the contentment she feels seep into her bones so much that when they’re delayed another hour on the tarmac when they land, she doesn’t let it get to her. When she's stuck behind a group of pensioners who don't know how to operate the scanners at passport control, she withholds her huffs and puffs. When her bags are the last to come out on the luggage carousel, she refrains from complaining.

She’ll see him, soon. She might not get her hour alone in their hotel room. She might not get her kiss goodbye in the hotel lobby. She might not even, at this rate, catch the beginning of the game, despite it being the only thing the two of them have talked about for weeks - the possibility of the team making it to the finals in the world championships, to her getting to see him live out his dreams live in action. Between taking her bags to the hotel and travelling to the arena with Nico’s family, not yet accounting for the inevitability of further traffic on her way, because that's just her luck, she’s probably going to get there part way through the first period, and the optimistic part that remains within her tells her, at least she's getting to see him at all.

But she’s in the same country, now. When she gets out of this god forsaken airport, she’ll be breathing the same air, kind of. And the months, that turned to weeks, that turned to days, have now turned to hours. 

She can definitely do hours.

She can do anything for Nico.

In all the lead up to Poppy flying out to Europe to meet Nico, the two of them had never really accounted for it turning out like this.

If she really thinks back on it, she thinks she was giddy, too caught up in the romance of it all, of the whirlwind nature of everything that unfolded - of flying overseas to be with him, of preparing to spend the summer together, surrounded by his family, in his favourite place on earth, of getting to watch him play again like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

The ending to the Devil’s season had been tough - and he would never show it, not to Poppy, not when the two of them were spending so much time together, but it had taken a toll on him. She knows Nico doesn’t back down. She had told her mom as much. Nico doesn’t fold to pressure. He builds himself back up, builds those around him back up like the true captain he is, and he never lets the outcome of a game get to him. 

For most of the season, there’s always the next game. Always room to improve, always a chance to claw things back in his favour. But those final few months, with playoff contention just slipping further and further out of his reach, his relationship with his own game had suffered a little.

She would watch him come home with a slump in his shoulders, eased away only by her gentle embrace. Would take notice of the way he would talk about work less, shifting the subject or speaking in phrases without much heart behind them.

And seeing the spring return to his step at the thought of playing in the world championships, of initially captaining his national team, had flooded her with pride, and with hope.

Every time the team progressed, their plans would change.

The first plan had been to meet him at home in Switzerland. She had work to wrap up, keeping her in Jersey, and he was going to get his apartment over there ready to fit the two of them for the inevitable future. And then the team kept progressing. Kept winning. And plans to fly out and stay with just him turned into plans to fly out and stay with the family, his opportunity to get things ready getting shorter and shorter the better they played.

And then rolled round the quarter finals. The semi finals only two days after, the day before she was set to fly out - and no matter what the result of that game was, she would be jetting off to Prague, instead.

And she hadn’t really said it to him, not wanting to jinx anything, but it was like she had known somewhere in her heart that he would make it all the way to the end.

It’s what Nico does. He fights tooth and nail to get to where he wants to be, and she knows, after the season the Devils had, that Nico wanted that gold medal more than anything. 

And when she had been sat on that plane, waiting on the tarmac for the delayed opportunity to disembark, and had decided at that point that there was nothing she wouldn’t or couldn’t do for the man she loved, she hadn’t entirely prepared herself for the possibility that anything could mean consoling him after such a heartbreaking loss.

She would like to think she’s good at comforting him, would like to think she’s mastered it over the years of knowing him. In those first years of their budding friendship, where she might have seen him after a few games, he might have dropped by her desk, or later her office, in the days after a game, she’d do her best to pick him back up. Some dumb jokes, a hug or two, eyes meeting and sticking in what she now remembers as a heated gaze until he would melt, would give a bashful smile and crack a joke back.

And that had progressed to him coming over to her apartment. To collapsing onto her couch with a heavy sigh and trying to blend himself into her routine, to erase the part of himself that hurt and cover it up with the part of himself she made feel better.

He picked up the same sort of habits when the two of them had fully reconciled, seeking solace in just her company, even if they weren’t properly together at that point. Comforted by fleeting touches, the holding of each other’s gaze, and all the soft, affirming words spoken between the two of them. And by the end of the season when they were together, it was by intimacy, the moments shared underneath her sheets that weren’t explicit, the bump of noses, the fluttering of lashes against cheeks, the soft whispers of unspoken worries that were trapped by a duvet pulled over their heads, their doubts not allowed to seep out into the blissful world they’re trying to create together.

But this kind of pain is a crease she fears can’t be ironed out by the simplicity of touch. Of kisses in the dark, of hands on hearts and legs intertwined.

When she hears the soft beep of his key card to his hotel room, listens for the heavy footsteps that carry him down the hall, and looks up to see the man she loves, defeated and remorseful, in front of her, her resolve shatters into a million pieces. 

For all the lows she has held his hand through, nothing compares to this moment. 

That night in the bar at the end of the season last year, where she had rested her head on his chest and heard the clunky beat of his broken heart, doesn’t even come close.

It’s the rattle of a shaky breath he lets out that has her own heart breaking, shooting up from where she had been perched, picking at her fingers nervously on the edge of the hotel bed, and launching herself at him.

She pulls her body straight into his, wrapping her arms around him in the hopes that such a small gesture could ever possibly convey the love she has for him.

She had thought seeing his sorrow blasted across the jumbotron earlier in the arena had hurt. She had thought their initial, rushed reunion after the game, where he had put on a brave face and told her he would meet her back in the room, the pressure of his kiss the only giveaway to his internal anguish, was bad. 

But this is so much worse.

Holding him as he chokes out a sob, the initial flimsy wrap of his arms around her turning into fingers clutching with a white knuckle grip at the shirt on her back, trying to conceal his pain through muscles that tense around her, restricting his shaking frame from giving his emotions away.

She holds him for as long as she feels like he needs to be held, until that tension eases a little, those shaky breaths even out, and his body starts to sway a little.

When their bodies part, she can’t bring herself to entirely leave his orbit, pressing kisses to wherever she can reach as he basks in her affections, eyes fluttering closed like he’s still trying to hide from her.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get your dream, baby,” she hums into the corner of his mouth, leaning a little to press a gentle kiss to the scar forming deep into his cheek, his neck craning to make it easier for her to reach.

His eyes squeeze tighter, keeping the warmth of his irises from her softened gaze, and she’s too close to see the bob in his throat, but she does see the clench of his jaw, stress still present in every fibre of his being. She wants to be his relief, wants to be the one to make things okay, make things better, but even she knows sometimes that isn’t for the best.

He needs to let these emotions, as heavy as they are, pass through him. He shouldn’t have to cover them up just to make her more comfortable, make their time together more enjoyable. She has the rest of her life to enjoy him, if he’ll let her.

So she clutches at the shirt covering his chest and pulls him back toward the bed, sitting him down and perching herself beside him, a comforting hand on his lap and a shoulder ready for him to cry on, literally.

She doesn’t even have to prompt him, then, to open up - the nature of their relationship thus far prevailing in the way he sniffles, turns to her with knees knocking, and starts to fiddle with her fingers resting on his thigh.

“I feel like this was my last chance to prove something,” he starts, his voice hoarse and his posture folding, “This year has just been so rough, you know?”

Poppy nods, because she does know, even if he hasn’t explicitly said it before now. Nico wears his resilience like armour, but she sees him when he’s bare. When the clunky metal that protects him from everyone else is removed, and his vulnerabilities are exposed, only to her. She sees the heavy sighs, the slumped shoulders, the forced smiles. She sees discomfort, unease, exhaustion.

“We got hit by all those injuries, and we didn’t make the playoffs, and the boys were all so down, and I,” he lets out an elongated exhale, tongue swiping out to wet the corner of his mouth, “I feel like I’m not living up to what’s expected of me, or what I expect of myself.”

She rubs soothingly at his knuckles, biting her tongue to withhold from telling him that’s he’s everything and more, because it isn’t what he’s asking of her. 

“I just needed a win.” He chokes out, and as a tear slips from his watery eyes, Poppy reaches to catch it with her thumb, swiping at his skin. “I just needed to feel like I could achieve something like this before it slips away from me.”

“Where is it slipping away to?” Poppy frowns, letting her touch linger on his cheek. 

“We’re having a baby, Poppy,” he speaks through swollen lips, glassy eyes meeting her gaze in the dark of the room. “When she comes, my dreams are gonna be different. My priorities will be different, I owe it to the two of you to be better. You deserve better.”

“It’s not one thing or the other, Nico.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks, “I have to put you first-,”

“You already do.” 

“It won’t be enough when she comes, it’s not fair to either of you,”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody. Says Talia, says your mom, says me chasing this stupid medal and leaving you to travel half way across the world on your own while you’re 5 months pregnant only for me to lose-,”

“Stop it,” she commands him, firm, despite the growing ache in the back of her throat, both hands clasped on either side of his jaw and levelling him with a stern look. “You don’t have to give me any more of yourself to be enough, Nico. I wasn’t on my own, I had Nina, because you have this little section of your beautiful brain,” she taps on the side of his head to point it out, “That, despite being worked to the bone for almost 9 months straight without a real break, and despite all the chaos of us figuring everything out, and you chasing after your dreams, which are not stupid, by the way, saw straight through me trying to pretend I wasn’t completely losing my mind these past few days and sent your sister out just to make sure I wasn’t alone-,”

“You wouldn’t have been alone if I were th-,”

Poppy places her hand over his mouth, the rest of his sentence mumbled into her palm as she narrows her eyes at him. “I said stop, didn’t I?”

He nods, his shoulders sagging and his eyebrows doing all they can to express the emotion that she’s covering him from speaking through his lips.

He’s far too good for her, she thinks.

So good that she has struggled to put it into words, basking selfishly in his affections, bathing in their love so long that the water has gone cold by the time it’s his turn to sit in it.

She has felt it for as long as she can remember, this crippling adoration for him, this warm devotion that cushions the blow of everything else life tries to throw her way - but she hasn’t said it. Not clear enough, anyway, for him to not doubt it’s there.

Not in the way he had, all those weeks ago back in his bed - their bed - at 3am. He had poured his heart out to her, and she had drank it all up with nothing left to spare.

“You do all these things for me, you send your sister half way across the world just to circle straight back, you call my dad and my brother out, you shame my family into loving me more so that they can live up to the ways that you do it, and you don’t even understand how much of yourself you already give to me. I could sit here all night and not run out of ways to tell you how you make things better. Every part of my world that you touch, you make it good, you make me good. And a lot of that comes from who you are outside of our relationship.

“So I’d never want you to think you have to give any of the other stuff up to be enough for me. I fell in love with the parts of you that you give to the foundation, to the community and all the causes we help. I love the parts of you that you save just for the ice. I love the parts of you that you leave at the Rock, in the locker room with the guys, or in the parking lot when you stop and sign stuff for the fans waiting in the cold. And whatever parts of you are left to come home to me, or that you dedicate to me when you’re not home, God, Nico, I don’t think I’ll ever even be able to measure how loved you make me feel. I can’t wait for our daughter to feel that.”

His eyes are watering, and tears drop until they run their course down his cheeks, stopped by her fingers still clasped over his mouth, fingers she removes to hold his head again, the scratch of his grown out beard tickling at her palms, to hammer her point home.

“I know that this hurts right now. I know how hard you worked for this, how bad you wanted it, and it’s okay to have wanted it so bad that it kills you that you didn’t get it, but don’t let it take away what you mean to me. This isn’t your last chance to prove yourself, Nico, not to me, not to our baby, I promise you.”

Poppy knows how it feels to want to have achieved certain things before their little girl arrives. She’s worked herself up enough about it since finding out she was pregnant, but being a parent isn’t about who she was before. She’d realised that when she had sat down with her mom, when her dad had started making more of an effort. When the two of them had made promises to try, and it had glued together small parts of her heart that she thought could never be fixed.

All they can do is be the best version of themselves in the moment. When their daughter comes, it’s about who they are then, not what medals they won, or what trophies they lifted, or milestones they hit. They can still do those things with her there, and those moments will be all the sweeter for experiencing them with their daughter.

“Can I speak yet?” He whispers, dark eyes more intense than she thinks she’s ever seen them, staring right into the depths of her soul.

“No,” she replies, in the same hushed tone, “One more thing.”

She shoots over to where she had discarded her carry on, earlier, digging through to the bottom where a small leather box sits - where it has sat since the day Nico left Jersey all those weeks ago, and she had felt an impulse too strong to ignore to get him something after he had given her bracelet back.

When she goes back to stand before him, he parts his legs, and pats his thigh until she perches herself on it, careful not to drop all of her weight until a hand curls around her waist and holds her in place. 

“It’s a signet ring,” she smiles softly as she takes it out of the box, tugging his right hand closer and sliding it onto the finger beside his pinky. “They’re supposed to be a sign of family. Usually they’re engraved, but I thought we could figure that out later and go do it together.”

“You have one, too?” He asks, admiring the way it glints as he takes it in, the band thick and heavy below his knuckle, the perfect fit. 

“I will when my hands aren’t like blown up surgical gloves.”

And through teary eyes, for the first time all night since they have been reunited, a laugh bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, hearty and deep, eyes crinkling in the corners and cheeks dimpling into that beautiful smile she loves more than anything else in the world.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one getting you a ring?”

God, she thinks, how could he ever possibly think he isn’t enough?

Melting her heart with such a question, accompanied with an ever-so-innocent glint in his eye.

She’s still holding onto his finger, twirling the ring around on it until it starts to tickle, starts to seemingly twitch with the need to hold her back.

“Only if you want to,” she shrugs, lips twisting as he raises his hand to cup her cheek, fingers swiping her hair behind her ear and the cool metal of the jewellery pressing to her warm skin.

“I do.” He promises before he kisses her, meaningful and deep, a whole month of longing wrapped up into the searing press of their lips.

Poppy wakes the next morning to soft, continuous buzzing and a wash of light spread almost heavenly over the room. The space beside her is empty, but warm, the sheets crumpled as if only just vacated, and it’s as she starts to gain consciousness and make sense of her surroundings that she realises what the noise is.

“No, no, no, no, no!” She exclaims as she kicks the tangles sheets from her bare legs, them balling up in a messy pile as she shoots up off the bed and stumbles toward the bathroom. “Do you hate me or something?!”

“What are you talking about?” Nico chuckles deeply, the morning rasp to his voice not quite enough to distract her from the device he’s holding in his hand - the hand she had only just last night brandished with a ring, for God’s sake.

“I literally professed my undying love for you not even 12 hours ago, Nico, and this is how you repay me?”

“Maybe I’m testing the limits of the undying part,” he shrugs, amusement flickering across his stupidly beautiful eyes - and the part of Poppy that’s over the moon to see him smiling, is quickly shot down by the part of her that’s been waiting to get her hands on that bearded jaw for weeks.

“You’re testing my patience, is what you’re doing,” she scoffs, reaching to snatch the clippers from his grip. “I didn’t even get to have a turn!”

“What am I, a carnival ride?” He laughs heartily as he pulls them just out of her reach, her body stepping into his so that he can land his free hand on her hip and keep her close. “It had to go, Poppy, I looked like a caveman. Coach said we all have to clean up a little for today.”

“Your coach is a traitor,” she pouts, allowing him to crowd her back until the base of her spine bumps against the counter. “You’re my caveman. My gorgeous, sexy, caveman baby daddy who I’ve only got to see through a screen for four whole weeks, you can’t do this to me with no warning.”

“You wanna finish it off?” He asks, head tilting as he smirks down at her.

“It’s only fair I do,” she sighs, placing her hands on the counter and hoisting herself up onto it with a huff, parting her legs so that he can step between them. “Maybe I can salvage something,” she mutters, running delicate fingers over what remains, an untouched moustache and some growth left on his chin. “Can I give you a goatee?”

“Do your worst, Mohn, I’m at your mercy to defile.”

“You’re gonna regret that.”

“I’ll never regret anything where you’re concerned.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 18 - Morning Tide

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.5k words. More fluff and filler with a little bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in. Good soup.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, period- omega is on her period. (What you think just because the omega’s all sad she’s not going to be regular? I wish), alcohol, mentions of blood, nightmares, mourning.

AN: I have 2 more chapters in this arc, I will post them this month then taking a break until after the new year. I will also be doing a little re-write of this chapter and chap 17, you shouldn't notice anything too different but if you come back and it seems 'different' that's why.

Previous - masterlist - next Bonus AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake in pain. Your body throbs. It is an all too familiar pain, a dull throbbing that travels through your body with each pulse of your heart. You turn over in bed. The sun is up. You've been in bed for longer than normal. You move your body to get up when a stabbing pain hits you so hard you yelp, your hands flying to press on your abdomen. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You throw the covers back forcing yourself out of the bed. You let out an annoyed sigh when you see the red stain on the bedding. You knew this was going to happen eventually, even if you were kind of wishing it wouldn’t. 

Everything aches. Even your head feels stuffy. You just want to crawl back into bed but you have stuff to do. You go over to your bag, the one you still haven’t properly unpacked. You pull almost everything out looking for the bag of toiletries you know is in there somewhere. 

You take it out to the bathroom. You hope they packed you something even if it’s just tampons or pads, anything. You look to your left. John’s door is completely closed for once. Maybe he’s still trying to air out the lingering smell of vanilla and leather that hangs heavy on this floor. He and Kyle must have really had a good time. 

You can hear voices downstairs so at least someone is up. You don’t really care though; you need to sit down. Each step sends shooting pains through your body. Everything about this sucks, but you’ve been through periods alone before. You can do it again. 

You make it to the bathroom pulling everything out of the bag until you find what you’re looking for. They did pack you pads and tampons, and that makes you smile a little. Maybe Dr. Piper did this a long time ago. You take your time changing and cleaning yourself up before getting up to leave. Standing up makes you dizzy and you brace yourself on the wall. 

You hope you don’t bump into anyone. You just want to get into your room, curl up and sleep, sleep until this is all over. You’re not that lucky though.   

“You okay lass?” Johnny asks. Your head is pounding as you turn to look at him, your grip a vice on the bag in your hands. You see his nostrils flair. You must smell awful, but there’s no way you have the energy to hide your scent right now. You try to move back to the bedroom but you’re unsteady on your feet, wobbling as Johnny comes behind you.

“Easy lass. What’s wrong?” He holds you up as you blink yourself back to reality. You get a surge of adrenaline and push yourself off his chest. His hands stay on you as he studies your face. He brings the back of his hand up to feel your forehead. 

“You’re burning up love,” he says. You can smell his worry in the air, and it makes you nervous.

“I’m fine, it’s my period,” you say. His hands don’t leave as he looks around your face. 

“C’mon,” he says, guiding your body to John’s room. You don’t want to bother him.

“Johnny, I'm fine. I don’t want to bother John,” you say. He’s guiding you back over to your room. You try to turn your body in but Johnny continues stopping outside John’s door and knocking. You slump up against him, your body feeling weak and heavy. You just want to sleep. 

John opens the door and you blink at him. Screw it, you’re in too much pain to care or feel embarrassed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you say, but it’s quieter than you expect. His hand comes up to touch your face. 

“You’re warm,” he says looking back up at Johnny. 

“Period,” Johnny says. Price lets out a sigh, his fingers running down to your chin. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Lay down, I’ll get Gaz,” John says. Johnny pushes you through to the master bedroom guiding you over to the bed. You can smell John’s scent in the air, and when you make it over to the bed you can smell him on the pillows. 

“Get in. I’ll get you some painkillers,” Johnny says as he pulls the bedding back for you. You would rather be in your own bed but you are in no mood to fight. You just want to lie down and nap. You put the bag on the bedside table and get under the covers, pulling them up under your chin as you start to shiver.

“It's cold,” you say when Johnny comes back with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. 

“I’ll get a fire started. Then you’ll be nice and warm.” He takes 2 pills out and hands them to you. You drink them down. Each movement hurts. Your head is starting to spin as you lay back in the bed. 

Kyle comes through the door next. He looks over at you, then Johnny. 

“I’m fine,” you say but it comes out as a slur. You’re starting to lose your grip on consciousness. You need to rest. 

“I’ll take the first shift.” Kyle nods at Johnny as he bends down in front of the fire. Kyle’s still in his pajamas, you think as he pulls his shirt off over his head and climbs into bed behind you. You didn’t even need to ask, you didn’t need to say anything, they just slipped into the routine like they’ve done this a thousand times before. 

Dr. Piper must have really taught them well.

“Jesus, you're burning up,” Kyle says, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at his touch. Pain shoots up your body and you groan bringing your legs up to your stomach.

“S’okay, relax,” Kyle says as his scent washes over you blocking out the scent of alpha in the room. It calms you down almost instantly. You look over at Johnny still bent down in front of the fireplace. You let out a long sigh letting the tension from your body go. 

“That's it, relax. I got you,” Kyle says, his lips up against your ear. You try to stay awake but you can't for long. Kyle’s hand comes up to stroke your hair and it's enough to lull you to sleep. 

...

You dream about the loch, but the loch is filled with blood. Thick and dark red. The stones are all are white. You look down and you’re naked. Blood drips down your arms, from a gash on the side of your neck and your side—exactly where Dr. Piper cut you. 

You look back up and see John standing waist deep in the water. He's naked too, or topless at least. You can’t see his bottom half. 

He turns when he hears you move the stones crunching under your feet. He has bullet holes scattered across his chest. Blood pours out of them. He holds his hand out for you.

You don’t want to take it. You stop at the edge of the blood filled loch. The smell of blood is strong in the air and it almost makes you gag. You shake your head and try to back up but it’s like there's a wall behind you. Not a wall a person. 

Their hands grip your shoulders pushing you into the thick liquid. 

“No, please.” You're trying to turn around and stop them, but they’re stronger than you. Before you know it, you’re standing next to John. He smiles at you as he grips your arms. The hands leave your shoulders, and it's like there was never anyone behind you. 

“I’m sorry,” is all he says. You don't know what he's apologising for. He pulls you into his arms hugging you right before falling down with you, pushing you under into the loch.  

…

Someone is shaking your shoulder calling your name. You blink your vision fuzzy. Pain radiates through your body. 

“Dr. Piper?” you ask. Cold hands find your face. 

“Just me lass.” The familiar Scottish accent drags you back to reality. You blink trying to clear your vision. He brushes hair stuck to your forehead. A thin sheen of sweat has built up on you but you still feel cold. 

“Time for some more painkillers.” You nod, moving to prop yourself up. You can’t feel Kyle behind you. The room is dark, the only light coming from the fireplace and the room door. Johnny brings the glass to your lips and you gulp a few mouthfuls before he gives you the pills. 

You look over at the doorway. John is standing there leaning on the doorframe. You can see the concern on his face. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Sorry I stole your bed,” you slur, sleepiness over taking you again.

“Shh, it’s okay, just rest,” Johnny says, stroking your head. You close your eyes. “Kyle will be in soon.”

John’s pacing the kitchen. It’s the morning of the third day since your period started and for some reason it feels wrong. He can’t put his finger on it. He’s not sure why. You looked so pale and weak when he saw you last night. He barely slept through the night, his mind plagued by all the horrible things that could happen to you. 

“Anything?” he asks. Simon sighs again looking at John over the laptop.

“The same as I told you 5 minutes ago. Keep giving her painkillers. Make sure she eats at least once a day. If her temperature goes over 38, then start worrying,” Simon says, reading the instructions off of Piper's handy ‘how to care for your omega’ document from the USB she left. 

“How is she?” John asks as soon as Kyle walks in the kitchen. Kyle looks like he’s just woken up from the longest sleep of his life as he goes over to the kettle. 

“She’s sleeping. Tav is taking care of her,” Kyle says. John sighs looking back over at Simon. “Christ Cap, you need to relax. You’re stinking the place up.” 

He moves to the back door cracking it open. The smell of his worry is almost overwhelming. Kyle moves to look over Simon’s shoulder 

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“John thinks there’s something wrong,” Simon says, scrolling through the PDF. Kyle looks over at John who’s leaned against the counter tapping his foot. 

“It was like this last time,” Kyle says, trying to be reassuring. He doesn’t know how much it’s helping though. 

“She had Dr. Montgomery last time,” Price says. There’s a hardness in his voice. 

“She’s fine John. Go for a run, it'll make you feel better,” Simon says. John lets out a sigh looking over at Kyle pouring himself a cup of tea. 

“Call me, if anything changes,” John says heading for the door. Simon sighs, raising an eyebrow at him. John nods heading upstairs. 

“I’ve never seen him so on edge,” Kyle says sitting down at the island next to Simon. Simon lets out another long sigh. 

“What?” Kyle asks. Looking over at him his eyes are focused on the laptop. 

“He misses her.” 

“Yeah but he’s giving her space,” Kyle says, sipping on his tea. 

“Forced proximity would do them both good. After this is over, we should figure something out,” Simon says, closing the laptop lid. Kyle chuckles.

“I told him the same thing a few days ago.” 

“When John gets back, we’ll go to the shops,” Simon says, getting up and heading to leave the room. Kyle looks out the window into the garden. It’s snowing. He smiles while taking another sip of his tea. You like the snow. 

You take a deep breath in. You’re enjoying the smell of nature filling your nose. You can smell John and Simon too, their scent is strong in the air even though they’re outside. Both the alpha's have been throwing punches at each other for the better part of 15 minutes.

Your head is still spinning, and you thought fresh air would help. You’re still in pain, but you slept for almost 3 days, every moment other than when Johnny or Kyle would wake you up to eat or give you medication. You don’t remember much and you were too embarrassed to ask Johnny or Kyle what had happened. Probably just what you’re used to; the periods after heat are always the worst. 

The first thing you wanted to do when you dragged yourself downstairs was go outside. Your body is stiff, your energy levels next to nothing, and your appetite hasn’t quite come back yet. You just needed some fresh air, to feel a cold breeze on your skin. Lucky the snow had melted and the sun was out or you don’t think they would have let you outside at all.

“C’mon Riley!” John shouts as Simon’s right hook hits the boxing pad. He's not putting his full weight into it. He’s not putting all his effort into it. John can see the frustration in his face. It’s been like this for weeks. Simon can’t keep this up, it’s not good for him. He’s reverting inwards. 

Simon throws another punch.

“Better,” John says. He turns. He can see you sitting on a chair next to the back door. You like to sit outside. Johnny and Kyle don’t let you stay out for long though, at least not while you’re still recovering. 

Simon throws another punch. John turns his attention back to him. 

“Distracted?” Simon asks, wiping away a bead of sweat before it drips down his eyebrow. 

“Never.” John smiles pulling the pad off. 

“Still think you can still beat me?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“When you’re throwing right hooks like that, no problem,” John teases him. Simon scoffs.

You watch as John and Simon both start throwing punches at each other. You hear the skin to skin contact from each block or hit. You can’t tell who’s winning, but you want John to win. At least you think you do. Warm hands come and rest on your shoulders, you look up to see Kyle behind you watching them.

“Ready to come back in?” he asks. The hot water bottle you have under your blanket has gone cold but the thought of moving anywhere right now just makes you wince. 

“Who do you think will win?” you ask, watching John land a decent hit on Simon.

“John,” he says. You smile watching them tussle. John does seem to have the upper hand. A shiver runs through your body. 

“Come on,” Kyle encourages. He gently squeezes your shoulders. You nod, gripping the blanket and hot water bottle letting Kyle lead you inside. His hands don’t leave you as you make it into the kitchen.  Johnny is ready with a glass of water and some pills. You hand him the hot water bottle and take them.

“Where do you want to go?” Kyle asks, his hand falling down to the small of your back. You’re not sure. Maybe you could use a nap but the thought of climbing up the stairs doesn’t sound fun. 

“Sofa?” you say, leaning up against him. Kyle nods and you walk through to the living room. The fire is almost constantly going, keeping the old house warm. There’s one in the master bedroom too. You enjoyed the sound of it, the popping and crackling of the wood. It helped you sleep. 

“TV?” Kyle asks. He puts his arm round the back of the sofa and you sit laying against him pulling the blanket over you. Even with the fire you still get the shivers. Kyle pulls you up against him projecting a calming scent into the air. 

“You did good,” you say, your eyes feeling heavy as you watch the show on the TV. Kyle just hums, shuffling so you’re more comfortable up against him, his hand rubbing your arm. 

2 days later Kyle and Johnny said they want everyone to eat dinner together tonight. Normally you would all eat at different times. Kyle would cook or people would make their own food. This time though they insisted on everyone sitting for a ‘family meal.’

You don’t know how you feel about that but you don’t really have much of a choice. You don’t want to cause problems. You have still been avoiding John but you’ve been missing him more and more. There’s an ache that comes when you think about him. You dream about him, sometimes good, sometimes bad. 

Maybe this is just what healing feels like.

“Can I help?” you ask Kyle. 

“Of course. What do you want to do?” he asks, stepping back from the potatoes he’s peeling. 

“I can do that if you want?” you ask, pointing at the veggies. He smiles, nodding, and you wash your hands, rolling your sleeves up. You pick up the peeler and continue from Kyle's work. 

“What’s for dinner?” you ask. 

“Steak, roast potatoes and veggies,” Kyle says. You nod, putting the peeled potatoes into a pot with water. “You know if there is anything you fancy you just have to say.” 

“I don’t really know what I like,” you say. You had a controlled diet in the bunker. When you were on the base you got to try all new things. You miss the puddings; they were your favourite. “I like everything you cook.” 

Kyle chuckles coming back over next to you, putting some carrots down. 

“Hey Gaz, do we have any beer?” Johnny asks coming into the kitchen. 

“Yeah in the fridge,” Kyle says. 

“Can I try one?” you ask. They both look at you as Johnny cracks the can open. 

“Are you sure?” Kyle asks. Johnny scoffs. 

“She’s an adult Gaz,” Johnny says, pushing past him and stepping in front of you. “Course you can have one.” He hands you the open can. You accept it. It’s cold. You bring it up to your nose to smell it. It smells strange, not like anything you’ve smelt before. 

Sometimes the Professor would drink whisky. He would get drunk and then come and berate you, take his anger out on you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, on him. This doesn’t smell like that though, like it’s weaker and there’s a hint of fruitiness to it. 

You look up at Kyle and Johnny looking back at you. You watch them as you take a sip. You didn’t expect it to be fizzy. If anything that shocks you more than the taste. It’s earthy, mellow, not as sweet as you were expecting but strangely refreshing. You go back for a second sip. It has a bitter after taste but in a good way, and it has a burn too, when it slides down your throat.

“Well?” Johnny asks, almost like he’s impatient. 

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, nodding at him. He smiles, turning back around and going back into the fridge. 

“Take it easy though, yeah? Wouldn’t want you drunk and disorderly.” Johnny winks before heading through the dining room to the living room. You put the can down and get back to peeling the last of the potatoes. 

“Have you ever had alcohol before?” Kyle asks. You shake your head, and your head swims for a second. You see Kyle taking out a glass and a bottle of something out the fridge. 

“What’s that?” you ask as he pours a red liquid into the glass. 

“Wine, want to taste?” he says, offering you the glass first. You nod, taking it out of his hands. It smells stronger than the beer, you just go for it and take a sip. You immediately pull a face. It's strong and bitter. You hand it back to him, forcing yourself to swallow. 

You cough, reaching over for your beer, taking a few gulps to get rid of the taste. He chuckles, taking a sip of the wine before placing the glass down on the kitchen island. 

“Wine can take a little while to get used to,” he chuckles. You go back to the vegetables finishing up and letting Kyle check your work. He smiles telling you you’ve done a good job. You feel like he would have said that regardless but you blush at the praise. 

You finish your beer while Kyle tells you more about his family. That’s how he learnt to cook, his mum and aunts. 

“Do you think you’ll get to see them?” you ask. He shrugs then shakes his head finishing off the glass of wine. 

“I don’t think so. Usually I wouldn’t see them until after deployment has ended.” You can smell his sadness in the air. Now you feel bad that you’ve upset him. He looks at you and smiles anyway. 

“Another?” he asks, pointing at the empty can. You nod. He goes into the fridge handing you a new one. By the time you’re halfway through it your head starts to feel funny. It’s good though, you feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t even flinch when John comes into the kitchen to ask when the food will be ready. 

“15 minutes.” Kyle smiles as he shows you how to cook the steaks in a heavy cast iron pan. You watch as John smiles at you before leaving back out the room, your head follows him and goosebumps stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Why don’t you go sit with him. I can finish up here,” Kyle says. You look back at him spooning butter over the steak. 

“I’m okay here,” you say smiling at him. Kyle hums going back to focus on the food. You look back at the door John left through. You miss him, you can’t help it, it’s the bond. You rub the back of your neck.

“Do you have a girlfriend Kyle?” you ask. He laughs looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t know what to say.

“I don’t have time for anything like that,” he says, pressing down on the steak in the pan. You watch it sizzle as the butter melts over it.

“Why not?” 

“Work takes up too much time. Most people don’t get it: why you have to be away for so long, why you can’t talk about work. It makes it difficult to form relationships when you’re not around most of the time.” You can hear sadness in his voice. 

“How about the others? Simon and Johnny?” You swill the beer can in your hand. 

“Same story, too busy for girlfriends.” 

“What about John?” You raise an eyebrow. He looks over at you for a second taking the pan off the heat and turning to the kitchen island. 

“John likes his job. He’s good at his job. For him it’s a lifestyle.”  Kyle sighs, taking a sip of his wine. “That's why he’s the Captain.”

“That’s why he’s the alpha,” you say under your breath. He's a good alpha.

“Well, I think we’re almost done if you want to set the table?” he asks. You nod, going into the cupboard and bringing out the plates. You take your time. Maybe if you take long enough you can skip dinner. The table is round. You take the centrepiece off, moving it to the kitchen as Johnny comes out from the living room into the dining room. 

“Almost ready?” he asks. You nod. He smiles as you come back with knives and forks. Johnny helps you finish setting up. Kyle comes over, bringing over the food. Johnny sticks his head into the living room and calls Simon and John before sitting down and patting the chair next to him.

You smile. At least you’ll be sandwiched between Kyle and Johnny. Or at least that’s what you thought before Simon sits down on the other side of you. John sits opposite smiling at you. Kyle comes over with the pan walking round the table and putting a steak on each plate. 

Johnny gets up suddenly and heads into the kitchen coming back with beer and passing them around. You reach over and pick yours up, cracking open the top. You feel relaxed as soon as you take a sip. At least that's a good thing, because you don’t know how awkward it would be without. 

“Looks lovely,” John says. 

“Yeah, don’t listen to what Gaz says, we all know who really cooked it all,” Johnny says, nudging you before reaching forward for the roast potatoes. He spoons some on your plate first—more than you think you’ll be able to eat—before doing the same with the veggies.

“I won’t be able to eat all that,” you say looking up at him. He chuckles winking at you. 

“I bet you will,” he says. He’s not wrong, after a few bites you realise you’re actually very hungry and manage to finish everything even going back for more potatoes to soak up the gravy Johnny heavy-handedly poured on your plate. 

You didn’t talk much but you listened to everyone's conversations. It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Maybe that was thanks to the alcohol. More likely though it’s because this is your pack and there is no need to feel awkward around them. 

“What was that place in Las Almas Rudy and Al took us to?” Johnny asks, leaning back in his chair. 

“Which one?” Simon asks.

“The one that had the really good tamales,” Johnny says.

“No, the one we went to after that had the bottomless spicy mojitos was the best,” Kyle says.

“I don’t remember that one,” Johnny says, frowning. 

“Yeah, ‘cause it was bottomless mojitos,” Simon chuckles. You take a sip of the beer as Kyle laughs, your eyes resting on John. He’s looking round the table, listening to Kyle until they land on you. He smiles at you and you smile back. You like seeing him smile.

“Las Almas is in Mexico right?” you ask looking around the table.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, nudging you. 

“I’ve always heard about it. I think the Professor used to holiday there,” you say pushing the last of the food round your plate. “He had a house in Florida too. He always talked about going there one day. It would have been nice to see the ocean.” 

“Dr. Montgomery told us about the house in Florida,” John says. You look up at him. 

“Florida is nice. Lot’s of beaches and the everglades,” Kyle says.

“Pff, Wyoming, supervolcano, geysers shooting hundreds of feet in the air,” Johnny says, throwing his arms up.

“Alaska, it’s cold and quiet,” Simon says. You turn to him. 

“That sounds nice, a lot like here,” you say. He smiles at you. 

“What about you, Cap?” Kyle asks. John presses his lips together thinking for a few seconds. 

“Texas, big food, big bases—” groans around the table stop John as they all complain about his pick.

“Pick somewhere without a million military bases,” Johnny says, shaking his head. You chuckle as you watch him defend his pick. 

“Fine. Arizona, Grand Canyon,” he says, his new choice met with a slew of agreements and head nodding, while he rolls his eyes.

“Anything for pudding?” Johnny asks looking back at Kyle. 

“Yeah,” Kyle says getting up. 

“I can help,” you say, standing up almost as fast and pushing your chair back. Suddenly you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness and you lean forward bracing yourself on the table. Johnny and Simon are both stood up now, their hands on you as you slowly sit back down. There’s a heavy tension hanging in the air, it feels like everyone is holding their breath as you reach over to pick up a glass of water.

“Christ love how much have you had?” Johnny asks in an effort to lighten the mood. His hand falling to your thigh. You look over at John, he’s not smiling anymore his body angled forward like he’s about to jump over the table to you. You sip the water letting the dizziness subside. Everyone slowly sits back down returning to their original positions. 

“Four,” you count in your head looking around at the empty cans on the table. “Maybe five.” 

You feel guilty. You’re not sure why. You should have been more careful. You like the way it makes you feel though; it’s relaxed you and you needed that tonight. 

Johnny squeezes your thigh as Simon stands back up starting to clear the table. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, hanging your head as you see John relax back in his chair. 

“C’mon, none of that,” Johnny says, his hand moving from your thigh to pull your chin up. “Maybe just no more for now.” 

You nod at him and look over at John. You can smell his worry in the air, and it makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Here you go. Jelly and ice cream,” Kyle says, putting a dish down in front of you. So that’s what the red wobbling thing in the fridge was. 

“How old are we, 5?” Johnny asks, pulling his own bowl closer to him. You’ve never had ice cream before but you’ve seen it in books. You always thought it should be in a cone not a bowl. You pick up your spoon and scoop some of the ice cream up. 

It’s cold and tastes amazing, like vanilla, sweet and creamy. You can’t help letting out a hum as it melts on your tongue. You go back for more immediately. You like the feeling of letting it melt slowly in your mouth. You look around the table at everyone looking at you.

“Good?” John asks. You smile nodding at him. 

“Take it easy though or you’ll get brainfreeze,” Johnny says as you spoon more in your mouth. You frown at him. He just chuckles. 

“I like the ice cream,” you say. Johnny chuckles. 

“Wait till you try chocolate ice cream.” 

“Or strawberry,” Kyle says. 

“Should pick up some neapolitan when you’re out next,” Simon says. 

“Good idea,” Kyle says. You’re not a big fan of the jelly’s texture but it’s sweet and works well with the ice cream. They all go back to talking again about past missions but mainly places they’ve eaten around the world. By the sounds of it they’ve travelled a lot.

This was nice. You find yourself switching between John and whoever is talking. Maybe he won’t realise how much you’ve been looking at him, but since you catch him glancing at you just as much, you’re not so sure. You feel your cheeks heat up everytime he catches you, and you don’t know why. 

By the time everyone is finished eating you are feeling tired. You even hear Johnny yawn a few times between anecdotes. You find yourself leaning up against him, your head feeling heavy and your belly full. Now would be a perfect time to just crawl up into your nest and sleep. 

“Tired?” Johnny asks, turning to kiss the top of your head. You hum at the warmth as he wraps his arm around you. John looks at his watch. 

“It's late, we should get to bed soon,” he says. 

“Football’s on tomorrow night. We should get some snacks in,” Kyle says.

“And more beer, I think we drank it all today,” Johnny says. You look around the table. You haven’t had anymore but they weren't shy guzzling them down.

“It’s a plan then. Will you join us?” John asks you directly. You pull your head off Johnny. 

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about football though,” you say as John smiles, letting out a chuckle. 

“It’s okay, we’ll teach you,” he says. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he leans forward getting up. “You did a good job, the food was lovely.” 

You smile at him nodding. You almost want to follow him as he heads back into the kitchen and you hear the back door open and close. 

“C’mon lass, let's get to bed. Leave Si to clean with Gaz,” Johnny says getting up. 

“I don’t mind helping,” you say, following Johnny. 

“It’s okay,” Kyle calls but you’re already sleepily following Johnny upstairs. You’ve been sleeping back in your bed finally letting John have his back. Johnny and Kyle cleaned your sheets and flipped the mattress. They did it all without you having to ask or do it yourself. When you tried to thank them they wouldn’t have it. 

“Sleep tight yeah? Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Johnny calls before turning into his room. You think he shares it with Simon, or maybe Kyle, letting Simon have a room to himself. You look into John’s room. You liked sleeping in John’s bed; his scent on the pillows relaxed you. It’s a good smell, a safe smell. Your alpha will always feel safe, unless you break the bond with him. 

You walk back into your room, your body feeling light for the first time in what feels like forever. You smile thinking about the meal and spending time with them all again. It felt right.

As you turn the light on your eyes are immediately drawn to the scarf tied on the headboard. The happy feeling is immediately overtaken by sadness and guilt. It doesn’t make you feel happy anymore. It doesn’t make you think of the good memories you have of her. 

It doesn’t even smell of her anymore. 

You run your fingers over it. You don’t want to see it anymore. You don’t want to just shove it back in your bag though, that doesn’t feel right. You look out your window. It’s snowing again. Johnny said it might do this for the next few days. It gives the whole home a cozy feel, like in the storybooks you would read as a kid. 

You turn the light off, cracking the window open slightly letting a cold breeze waft in. The outdoor light makes the snow look magical as it falls leaving a thick layer on the ground. You get into bed pulling your duvet all the way up to your chin. You let out a long breath watching the snow fall until you fall asleep. 

...

You dream about the loch. The stone shore is covered in a thick layer of snow but it’s warm and the sun is high in the sky. You look back down and see Dr. Piper stood on the shore. You walk up to her and she turns smiling at you. 

“Hey,” you say, leaning up against her. She’s wearing the scarf. It blows in the wind. 

“How are things going with you and your alpha?” she asks. 

“Good,” you reply. It’s a lie but you’ve never had any problems with lying to her before. Only this time she lets out a sigh. There’s a change in the air, and the sun is blocked out by a cloud. Her body tenses up and you stand up straight. Even the waves on the lake pick up. 

“Why are you lying?” she says, her voice low. It’s not a tone you’ve ever heard her use. Low and grumbling, almost like an alpha. You back away from her, goosebumps rising on the back of your neck. You don’t get far, suddenly you’ve backed up into a tree and you can’t move. 

She walks over to you and you can see the anger on her face as the wind starts to pick up. You’ve never seen her mad like this before, it reminds you of when the Professor gets mad. Dr. Piper doesn’t get mad but right now she is. 

“I’m trying,” you say, trying to move, but it feels like something is holding you in place. She walks up to you, her face centimeters away from yours

“You’re not trying hard enough!” she shouts and it makes you jump. Fear runs through you. You want to get away but you can’t, you can’t move. Dr. Piper lets out a long sigh and brings her hand round to the back of your neck. 

You want to scream, you want to fight her but you can't, you're pinned up against the tree. 

“Such a bad omega,” she says as she presses her fingers into the back of your neck. You gasp and then everything goes black.

…

You snap up in bed, your body thick with sweat as you pant. Your hand comes up to your chest as you try to calm down. It feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. You swing your legs out the side of the bed. The outdoor light is off. You shiver as the wind howls through the crack in your window. You get up to close it. The sky must be clear because the moon is lighting up the untouched snow covered fields. 

When you turn to look back at your bed, the moon is hitting the scarf perfectly lighting up the blue tones. It makes a shiver run through your body.  

You take the scarf off the headboard and open your bedside table drawer putting it in. You swallow the lump in your throat and walk out the room. You need to see John. You’re not sure what you’re going to say but you just need to see him. You knock on John’s door. 

He still has it cracked open and you hear him getting up from the bed. You didn’t expect him to be awake, but maybe it’s not as late as you think. Maybe you haven’t been asleep for too long. He opens the door. He’s shirtless, and heat rushes to your cheeks as he looks down at you. He smiles. 

The hallway is dark, and the only light is coming from his room. The shadows across his chest make all his muscles and scars look more defined. You move your eyes back up to his face. It makes the dark circles under his eyes look bigger, almost like he hasn’t slept in days. 

He smells good, safe like an alpha. You miss him. You look at his deep blue eyes. He always has such a soft expression. You almost forget what you want to ask him, losing yourself in his eyes.

“The loch,” you say before you forget. “In the morning, could we go?” 

“Of course,” he says smiling. You suddenly don’t want to leave. You let out a sigh turning back towards your room. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. You turn back to look at him and nod. 

“Sleep tight,” he says as you walk into your room. 

“You too,” you say before closing the door behind you. You lean back against it hearing him go back into his room. 

You really do miss him.

It’s still snowing when you make it to the loch. It’s been almost a week since you’ve been out here. The wind has picked up and you’re running Dr. Piper's scarf through your fingers. Johnny is with you, the others get out of the car slowly. They’re giving you space but you feel like you don’t want it. 

You walk down to the water's edge. The wind seems stronger down here. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Johnny says, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. You appreciate the warmth, his contact. 

“I do, I have to move on,” you say looking down at the colourful silk scarf. It doesn’t smell of her any more. It’s just a scarf. Each time you look at it, it makes you sad. You’re sick of being sad. You want to move on. With Kyle and Johnny. Simon and especially John. 

You miss her but Johnny’s right, you’ll never forget her. You need to hold onto the happy memories. She was always there for you. She would always be kind to you. When you were in the bunker she was the ray of sunshine that kept you going. Her blonde hair always reminded you of the sun, just like the mural in the bedroom. 

You look over the patterns on the scarf. There's an anchor and a rope line. Life-preservers. It’s blue with spots of red and green. There’s waves on it. The loch seems like the perfect place. You look out at the water. The sunlight peeks through the clouds and reflects off the water. 

You close your eyes bringing the scarf up to your nose. There’s no smell any more. The smell of beta doesn’t even remind you of her, it makes you think of Johnny and Kyle first. Your pack. They will always be your pack. She trusted them. She left you with them. 

The crunching of pebbles makes you open your eyes. Johnny is gone, and you turn to see Simon by your side. You tense up, but his hand comes to land on yours, covering the scarf bunched up in your fist. 

“She loved you,” he says. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. He looks down at you. His expression is soft, his eyes looking almost golden. Snow gathers on his hair. He has blonde hair, just like Dr. Piper. 

“I loved her too. She was like a mother to me.” 

“I know.” 

“I feel like if I let her go I'll forget her.” 

“You won’t. You don’t forget important people like her. You don’t forget people you love.”

“You think?” you ask looking up at him. 

“I had a nephew.” 

“Simon—” 

“He was probably too young to even understand who I was. But I remember him, every day. The memories never go away.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaning up against him. He never speaks about his family. You had no idea he had lost people too.

“You don’t have to do this. You could keep it as a memento,” he says, taking his hand off yours so you can see the scarf again. 

“I can’t. Every time I see it I think of the pain she went through. I need to move on, for the sake of the pack,” you say looking out over the water. His arm comes around your shoulder. You can smell his alpha in the air. The ground after rain. 

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asks. You shake your head. 

“I just wish I could have said thank you. I wish she knew how much she meant to me.” You sniffle, opening your fist and letting the scarf blow out in the wind, holding one of the ends with your thumb and finger. 

“She knew, that's why she saved your life. She did it because she loved you,” he says, squeezing you tighter against him. You hold your hand up a little higher. The wind here is nice and strong. You want it to be carried far across the lake. 

You sniffle. Suddenly you don’t want to let it go. Maybe you’re not ready. You blink your eyes letting the tears run down your face. It’s cold, and they sting.

‘Let go,’ you think, ‘it doesn’t have to be this hard.’  

You let out a sigh. The wind is almost pulling the scarf out of your hand. She would have loved it here. 

You open your fingers letting it fly off. You watch your arm still outstretched as it’s picked up higher into the sky. 

She would have loved it here. 

Your eyes follow it as it floats through the air. Suddenly it stops falling down to the water. You can see it floating on the top before the water drags it somewhere else. Too far for you to see. 

She’s gone. 

You feel numb. You thought maybe it would be freeing but there’s still an ache there deep inside you. You were bonded. Maybe that will never go away. Simon and Johnny are right, you’ll never forget her, you have to focus on the good memories. 

The atmosphere changes and you feel empty. You shiver, goosebumps rise on the back of your neck and your hand goes up to rub it. Simon looks down at you. 

“You okay?” It’s such a simple question, one you’ve been asked countless times over the last few weeks. 

“No,” you admit, but you don’t know what to say. Simon moves in front of you resting his hands on your shoulders bending down so his head is level with yours. He’s blocking your view and you look up into his eyes. 

“It’s okay.” His hands come up to cup your face. “You’re not going to be okay for a long time. It will get easier though. I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, sniffling. He wipes your tears away. 

“I never make promises I can’t keep,” he says in a low voice. You let out a smile. He smiles back and pulls you into his arms. His hug is warming, tight. It’s what you need. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as his chin rests on your head. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, letting his scent fill your nose. The ground after rain and gunpowder. He hums, his chest vibrating as you press yourself up against him. 

This is your pack now, this is your safe space. You feel another hand on your back opening your eyes to see Kyle. He rubs your back but you don’t want to leave. You shiver again though. It’s cold. You need to curl up in your nest and sleep. 

You wish your nest was here.

You break away from the hug letting Kyle lead you back to the car. Johnny and John are leaned against the hood as they watch you walk over. They look sad. John has his hat in his hands. His eyes never leave you as you climb into the car. 

You sit in the middle with Johnny getting in next to you. His hand comes to rest on your thigh. You lean up against him and close your eyes. 

She’s gone. It’s time to move on, it’s time to fix the bonds, tighten the threads. 

It’s time to focus on your pack.

next Bonus Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[buckys-little-belle]

Hi!! I love your story’s and am always looking for little and daddy Bucky story’s!! I was wondering if you could do insecure reader who’s bigger. She has bigger thighs a bigger tummy and face. Could you do reader is scared to sit on buckys lap or for him to pick her up and carry her around the house. She’s too scared she’s heavy and will crush him and his legs. or that he will drop her because she’s too big. She also never cuddles and sleeps with him in his room always sleeping in her room after he puts her to bed because she’s scared about her breathing or how she sleeps.

Bucky gets her to tell him why and then comfort. Just fluff fluff fluff. If your not comfortable writing this I totally understand!!! If you do could you ad paci use? Thank you!!! Sorry for the rambling…

Strongest Man Alive

Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Notes - This is not my best work, and has been in my drafts for MONTHS, it's something cute, and a little angsty at the beginning, but it does get super fluffy at the end. It's a little bit different than my usual writting style, so I apologize for that, but I do hope you like it and if not I'm so sorry! I hope I did this ask justice, and I hope everyone is having a good week!!! <3

Warnings - Talks of reader being self conscious for being 'bigger', kept very vague as she uses the words "heavy" and "squishy" to describe her body type instead of more concrete descriptions, the use of a pacifier is very brief as it's something I'm not used to writing, though I would be willing to continue, mentions of reader eating food "snacks" and "sandwich" though never specified, FLUFF at the end, but there is a moment of angst, I DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS A COHEARANT STORY, it's from the drafts and I gave it a once over and I think it's 'good enough' so I apologize if it's terrible <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n often spent their time at the Avengers tower sitting, standing, lingering around Bucky Barnes. It wasn't on purpose, the man just seemed to be the other half of some magnet imbedded deep in Y/n's heart. He just had some ability to pull her towards him.

Maybe it was the way he cut her sandwiches into perfect triangles, or the way his hand always found hers when she got scared. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be reserved around anyone but her that made her feel so connected to him.

He never sulked but always seemed to walk around with a frown stuck on his face, only ever changing it to a smile when she walked by his office or stopped by his room.

As much as Y/n felt like she was pulled to him, Bucky felt it multiplied by 100. His hands always aching to hold hers, his chest always feeling heavy when he began to think about her needing something and him not being around to help her.

The whole tower knew about Y/n's regression. Wanda and Peter often joined in, hanging out in little space and colouring in books Tony had provided, watching whatever new animated movie had just come out and sleeping over in makeshift tents in the living room.

Often other Avengers would help supervise activities, Steve loved playing action fighters in the common areas, Nat loved cuddle puddle on the couch, and Thor was always ready for a park day. Bucky on the other hand liked to stay in the shadows, buying stickers for the group of littles, making them lunch and dropping it off.

Bucky only stuck around if Y/n asked him to hang out with her. "Bucky can you hold my hand?" She had asked him when at the park, he of course grabbed her hand and helped her up the jungle gym.

"Bucky can you open this please?" She had whispered during a movie, her baggie full of snacks too difficult to manage on her own. He opened the baggie and held it in his own grasp, handing her a piece of candy anytime she had finished the previous one.

"Bucky will you colour with me?" She had yelled her ask one day when he was passing by the kitchen, Y/n sat at the island with markers scattered across the marble. He silently sat down and diligently coloured the page she had given him, helping her chase markers that had fallen.

He knew she was comfortable asking for what she wanted, and he knew she wasn't afraid of him ... so, it made his chest tighten every time she asked him to grab something from the top shelf instead of asking to be lifted like Wanda and Peter often asked.

He also felt off every time a little would come running out of their room after a nightmare, rushing into someone's room for a cuddle, yet Y/n's door never opened and neither did his.

Bucky was sure it was his fault she didn't seek him out for cuddles, he thought he had done something wrong when she never asked for a hug. Was it his arm? Was she scared he would turn on her? He couldn't figure it out.

That is until he realised she never asked anyone for a cuddle, or a hug. Nat, Wanda, and Peter would be all comfy on the couch and Y/n would be sat on the chair, a small frown on her face yet she never tried to find a spot next to her friends. And when she scraped her knee on the playground she declined Thor's offer of a "healing" hug.

"Y/n?" His voice was quiet but direct as he called out into the playroom, Y/n sat on the softly coloured rug, her stuffed animals scattered about.

"Hi Bucky!" She smiled, her pacifier tumbling out of her mouth and onto the ground.

"Hi." He sat down across from her, quickly pocketing the fallen pacifier before sought out the, now, dirty thing. "What are you playing?" His hands brushed a stuffed teddy, Y/n tilting her head in confusion as she looked around her.

"'m just dressen 'm up." She smiled at him, grabbing a stuffed unicorn and brushing it's fur back into place, shuffling closer to Bucky as she gathered a few other stuffed animals.

The moment her knees hit his she shifted back, so Bucky shifted his towards her again. Like clockwork she moved and left a small gap between them. "Y/n?"

"Mhm." She looked back at him, her smile one he could easily read through.

"Am I scary?" He asked calmly, not once loosing eye contact as she shook her head 'no'. "Do I smell?" He asked, this time with a laugh.

"No!" She giggled.

"Then why do you run every time I touch you." Instead of answering she bowed her head, hands running over the stuffed animal anxiously. "Why don't you hug Wanda or Peter?" He was worried that all the questions would make her want to run, but as she huffed and leaned into his space slightly he continued. "I know Thor was pretty sad when you declined his hug the other day." That one wasn't a lie, the man had gone on a rant about how he thought he had done something wrong, how he was sure Y/n hated him.

"I jus', I don' want them t' be mad." She admitted, huffing at the end of her sentence. "'m jus', 'm heavy, an' squishy. Wanda and Pete aren't heavy an' squishy." She admitted, eyes locked on the wall, the stuffed unicorn held a little closer to her body.

"What do you mean Baby?" Bucky asked, confused as to what she was alluding to.

"It's harder t' pick me up." She finally looked back at him, tears beginning to gather along her waterline. "And cuddling wif me wouldn' be th' same." She shrugged, trying to play it off like she wasn't bothered by her own words.

The tightness in Bucky's chest didn't ease up with his answer, his worry only growing. He had hoped it was an easy thing to fix, yet knowing Y/n didn't hug her friends, or him, because she felt too big made him hurt. "Baby," He began, not giving Y/n a second to doubt him, he picked her up and sat her in his lap. "you aren't 'too heavy' to pick up." He hated how quickly she curled into his chest, how clear it was that she was missing human connection. "I'm the strongest man alive, and you saying that you're too heavy is going to bruise my ego a bit, Baby." They both laughed, a few of Y/n's tears hitting the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

"I thought Steve was th' strongest man alive?"

"I let him win when we arm wrestle." Bucky admitted, causing Y/n to break out into a fit of giggles.

"'m gonna tell him!" She stood up, bolting for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Bucky ran after her, lifting her off her feet in the middle of the hallway, Y/n pausing with a gasp, bracing for the two of them to fall, yet laughing along with Bucky as jostled her around, threatening to take her new colouring page off the fridge if she told anyone his secret.

After a pinky promise and some juice Y/n began to trust Bucky a little bit more. She let him pick her up at the playground, and gave him a hug before bed every night. She still worried her hugs were 'bad', that maybe no one would want to hug her because she wasn't 'little' but Bucky never once complained, instead asking for hugs in the morning too.

It took her a while to truly trust that Bucky wasn't lying when he said his back didn't hurt after picking her up, but eventually she became comfortable enough to run and jump into his arms, something she had always dreamed of doing.

It wasn't until a month later that Bucky woke up at 4 am to the sound of Y/n's hurried footsteps rushing to his door. Light creeping in from the opened door she didn't close as she ran to his bed. The sound of soft cries and whispers of "Nightmare" filling the usually quiet space.

Instead of letting her think too much about how she 'should' be cuddling, Bucky just scooped her up and tucked her into his bed, letting her know he'd protect her, and her stuffed animal. He liked having her in his room, it made him feel at ease knowing she was close.

After a few months of staying in Bucky's room, Y/n began to get out of her shell a bit more, hugging Wanda and Peter, and eventually accepting Thor's 'healing' hugs. She finally joined in during the weekly cuddle puddle, laughing along side Nat and her friends as they all got cozy on the couch. And for the first time ever she let someone else, the second strongest man alive, Steve Rogers pick her up. A pride filled movement the man would never forget.

Even though it took her a little longer than everyone else to be comfortable hugging and snuggling, she was happy to finally be apart of the group in ways she wasn't before. Bucky, the man who still often stayed in the shadows, helping from a distance, couldn't help but feel a little lighter every time he saw his girl get over her worries, knowing if anything got to be 'too much' she'd come running to him.

[blackcat-star]

Hi, this is the girl who asked about giving you ideas, to say there are many sung jinwoo x readers that have a happy ending or angst for the reader, why are we hurting to us readers? i see a specific post where jinwoo is traumatized angst, so why make him feel our pain with bittersweet ending? i don't hate him it's just that there are many posts that don't give up the vibe and slowly start to be tedious when all readers are in pain except for him.

(it may be ooc and a bit oc because I've seen readers impersonating another character like this that should be the reader, not some insert character. not to mention when having the same power, skill and strength like the character that already exists? might as well put oc!reader or out to stereotype yn/reader/name but i would want to have a reader as their own perspective due to the fact people wanted attention to tagged, i understand the popularity but please to all readers reading this, understand to the perspective point of view that we should put oc! reader instead of 'x reader' if they're having features of the characters you want to impersonate, to copy skills and other ability and powers, ok i ramble too much so I'll stop)

how about this: either you make the longest one shot or make a cliffhanger draft, series and a few chapters. take your time to think us readers are not rushed and i would gladly help you as the requester for specific details and ideas to add to your writing as an author, i have a few more ideas if you write this to continue.

a Isekai reader, similar to your previous post yet let's make a different path? the reader Isekai to solo leveling, let's make it female reader/f(y/n), (sorry to gn or male because I don't understand genders perspective but i want everyone to be fair, it's just that I'm more comfortable with female perspective). ok so back with the topic.. the reader, let's say sure we love the protagonist mc sung jinwoo but we only see him as an inspiration and to admire from afar, when the reader Isekai to jinwoo's world, the reader would remain friends and partners, nothing more and would never reciprocate jinwoo's feelings, the reader would turn a blind eye and 'oblivious' of his feelings, let's say we did help him to the minimum but reader has a limit because of the system.

the system would give powers but there are consequences like jinwoo(when he grew stronger, he would slowly lose his emotions) so i suggest that when the reader looks at the consequences once they grow stronger, she holds a book that contains a lot of information spoilers because the consequences are their memory(only to solo leveling) so to a reminder on what their purpose and plans along with reasons. the reader would continue the Life of helping jinwoo like a devoted follower.

once he slowly forgets and doesn't need the reader due to the FL aka cha hae-in, the reader would step back calmly and walk away. in the background reason.. the reader would help jinwoo big time like they would be anomaly without him realizing about it until it's too late when the reader put the system to forget everyone's memories except for him.

with the reader getting stronger, they'll have to cover their tracks so nobody would find the F!reader. maybe in another country— oh wait he would have a million shadows to search for her.. maybe to another planet like the moon? once she left without saying goodbye or where they go when antares battle ends, the reader would say a few words without him knowing that jinwoo would not see the reader again once he used the reincarnation cup.

(I) would always choose you to be your partner and ally, (L)et's meet again, alright? (Y)ou brought colors to lit up my life on my grayscale monochrome world, (S)o I'll be waiting (J)ust for you.. after all, we're not in a rush because we always have time in the world.

(it's ily sung jinwoo, you can make him a bit yandere or something. but anyways let's make him feel our pain! it's unfair for us to be sad!! sorry if my grammar and typing is complicated to understand, you can ignore or skip it if you want.)

Thanks for sharing this with me 💗

Your idea is really interesting, and it would be great if it were written as a complete story

But maybe with your idea, it would become a new story and it would probably repeat Farewell which I don't want to do a similar story because I know I would just write it quite similar to Farewell (〒▽〒)

So if possible, I would just write part 2 of Farewell, continuing the story, when the MC (reader) decides to leave, erase everyone's memories of them and erase their memories of everyone. The MC in the story has decided to let go and live for themselves, meaning they will not pay attention to Jinwoo anymore and start a new life.

I'm sorry 😭🙏

________________________

If it were written as a story, I think it would go like this

_________________________

The old book still lay in the pocket of the cloak - the soft leather worn, the edges curled as if it had been through many storms. No matter how many battles, how many times you almost lost yourself, the one thing you never let go of was this notebook.

It had no power. It did not open a portal, it did not activate a hidden skill. It was just a normal notebook, but it was the only place where you dared to be honest.

Each thin page, recorded fragments of memory - sometimes hastily scribbled in smudged ink, sometimes neatly written as if in a false peace. Each word written was a reminder, an anchor to keep you from being swept away by the growing wave of power.

The first page, written in shaky handwriting. "Don't love him. Don't stay because of him."

You remember writing that sentence, your hands were so cold that you could barely hold the pen. You cried, you laughed, you whispered 'stupid' to yourself. But you wrote anyway, because you knew that if you didn't write it down, you would forget why you kept your distance.

Turn to the second page.

"He doesn't belong to you. And you don't belong to this world."

Not belong, that sentence became a mantra. You repeated it every night, every time his eyes accidentally passed you, every time you heard his name from someone else like a legend, like a god, like something forever out of reach.

And you knew, even though your heart was slightly moved, you couldn't get any closer.

The next page, the writing was sharper, as if written when you had better controlled your emotions, when you had learned to accept. "Just a partner. Just a companion."

Not a lover. Not a chosen one. Not a kept one.

You were with him out of obligation. Because you can help him. Because you want this world to have a chance to survive. And because, in some corner of your heart, you can't turn your back on him - even if it means pushing yourself into loneliness.

As your strength increases, each piece of memory fades, you forget the face of the mother you once loved, forget your favorite food, forget the reason you were afraid of the dark. But every time you read these lines again, you remember a little, not in images or memories, but in feelings. A silent but passionate feeling.

You turn to the last page.

Just one line, written in soft handwriting, like a light touch on a wound that has never healed:

"If he forgets you…don't be hurt. Let him be happy."

You pause for a long time on that line. Your eyes close slightly, as if to stop the thoughts from surging.

You know, one day, he won't see you anymore, not because you're not there, but because his heart is full. You know, in the countless things he protects, you're just a faint part - not enough to make him stop.

And you promise yourself, that you won't hold on. You won't cry. You won't ask for anything.

You'll just smile, close the book and walk away.

Because you love him.

But you love him enough not to become a chain.

______________________

The light from the Fragments of Light still hung in the air, like stars that had yet to fall. The battle with Antares was over, but the air still smelled of ashes and sacrifice. Everything had ended - and begun - in an eerie silence.

Jinwoo, still clutching the Reincarnation Cup, looked up at the sky. In that silent light, his eyes shone with a rare peace, as if he could finally rest. He would go back in time, to fix all his mistakes, save those who had fallen, and start over again - this time, without war, without death.

You came in that moment. No one saw you. Not a single footstep, not a single breath. You just came, as you had always come to him in silence, a figure without a name, without a title, just a 'partner'. You don't need to call his name, because he always recognizes you, somehow.

Jinwoo turns around, his eyes softening when he sees you. He doesn't seem surprised. He seems to have always believed that you would be here, by his side, until the very end. "You're here," he says, like a thank you that hasn't been said in all the years of companionship. "Thank you for always staying."

You just smile. No reply, no explanation. You know, if you say more, you won't be able to hold it in. You'll cry. You'll grab his hand and beg him to stay. But you can't.

Because you've decided long ago.

You take a deep breath, as if to stuff all the emotions into your chest, then speak - each word is soft, but falls like a cut.

"I would always choose you to be your partner and ally."

"Let's meet again, alright?"

"You brought colors to lit up my life on my grayscale monochrome world."

"So I'll be waiting…" you stopped, your heart skipped a beat.

"Just for you."

The light rose around everything before Jinwoo could either speak or say your name.

You spoke softly yet uncertainly if he could hear you say " After all, we're not in a rush" while standing there. "Because we always have time in the world."

The cup glowed. The light of rebirth, of a chance to start over, swept through the world like waves. Everything was swept away by it, war, pain, loss, and you.

[satoruzip]

jjk men as your boyfriend <3

Satoru would be the type of boyfriend who spends a bunch of money on you. Every time you look at a piece of clothing, it’s in your closet the next day. You’ll mention something you wanted but couldn’t afford, and Satoru made sure you got it. You started feeling a bit bad at some point because he was buying you so many things. “Toru..this is really sweet, but I didn’t need all this. Maybe lay off on the gifts for a bit.” you’d snicker. “How longs a bit?” he would say smiling. Holidays were absolutely ridiculous. Even after begging Satoru to calm down with the crazy displays, he still spoiled the hell out of you. I think Toru would be more of a hugger and cuddler. He’s always latching on to you and slipping between your arms.

Nanami would be such a gentleman. Opening doors for you, zipping up your dresses, and helping you put on your shoes, even if you didn’t ask. He would take you out to fancy dinners, and when you weren’t feeling that, you two would sit on the balcony and eat a dish he prepared for you. He definitely pays most of the time but doesn’t mind if you decide you want to treat him. He’s so sweet and constantly makes sure you’re comfortable. “Those heels aren’t bothering you, honey?” “Are you sure you don’t want my jacket?” He’s just so perfect and is a wonderful boyfriend. Nanami loves kisses. Even a simple kiss to the forehead makes his day and he especially loves it when you kiss his cheek before he leaves for work.

A bit controversial, but I think Sukuna would be a good boyfriend…he’s a little crazy and very blunt, but I feel he can be sweet in his own way. Your favorite dishes are always prepared by Uraume for dinner, just as you like them. Sukuna is overprotective and views you as “his.” He constantly asks where you're going and why you’d do something without him. in public, he stands behind and glares at everyone who even looks remotely in your direction. He compliments you sometimes, too. “Why don’t you wear that dress every day?” “Your hair is different.” Very strange but so cute! I also feel like he would love holding your hand. He pretends he hates it, but loves the feeling of your hands in his.

a/n- sorry this is so late school is kicking my ass :( i’m so grateful for all the love on my previous works and hope you all enjoy this ! this was very fun to write so lmk if you guys want more. it’s a bit of a long one but i love it <3 requests are always open ^^

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Death and Rebirth Review

Note: This post may contain spoilers about Love and Deepspace recent Death and Rebirth update. You are warned. Read on your own discretion.

For all of those who follow my account may know that I almost always give my review for the current event or updates Love and Deepspace has. But I stopped giving my opinions and reviews almost completely after the previous Zayne's main story updates were released.

It's not that I don't care anymore, but mostly because I'm upset. I don't want my opinion to cloud anyone's judgement about the game. While everyone is entitled to give their opinion, personal feelings do not count as one of them. If Feelings are involved, I just considered it ranting and that will just be annoying for everyone.

But the most recent update, Death and Rebirth, has me thinking twice and yes I will rant about it. I don't hate it, but I don't like it either.

After this, the points you will read is my personal opinion and understanding on the update. Just remember, I DON'T HATE IT, BUT I DON'T LIKE IT. There is a difference.

First I want to commend the genius writing Infold team has yet again put in the current timeline update. It is so well written that I have flashbacks in my head about the myths, memories/cards, and bonds stories the current update refers to. It's genius, specially when Bai Ze is mentioned. (To all Zayne Girlies, I know you probably squeal in that.)

Sylus part of the update is rather shot but concise. A lot of information was revealed about MC, Gaia and Grandma Josephine was revealed in this one.

It's actually kinda information overload so I really took the time to digest and feel the all the emotion purred to the storyline.

But what I really like the most in the Sylus update was his loyalty to MC. He would literally go far and beyond for her. No matter what she is or what she will become, he would always choose her. He would always bound himself to her. No question asks, he was hers.

Imagine being with someone who is always 2 steps ahead? Though he seems detached, uninterested and unbothered, that truth is, he already did everything for her. Yet again, he displays leading her but never controlling her. He id doing everything for her, but he still let her discover it for herself at her own phase.

(Again, Sylus is not controlling! Some b!tches accuses him and Zayne on being one. Know the difference girl! You will not hurt anyone one of the boys. Not under my watch! Next Time I will tagged you.)

Now let's go on Zayne's part of the update. Just Remember, My main is Zayne, and he is the reason why I almost completely stop giving reviews. Because as much as I want to be fair for all the boys, and try to see the good side of all the updates, something always do not sit well with me.

I genuinely feel pride to be a part of Love and Deepspace fandom. I say it once, and I will say it again that the LaDS team is genius is weaving the stories for Zayne together. From bonds, memories/card, anecdotes, myths and world underneath. Everything was mentioned and we got more insight of what happened with Zayne and MC in their childhood.

Everything made total sense now. Why he suddenly disappears, why he choose to be a cardiac surgeon, his guilt and what happened to William.

I get bits and pieces on Social Media after the update and I give them the benefit of the doubt and try to finished everything before I post anything.

Sure that a lot of questions from the previous chapters are given explanations and clarifications on this update and one of my favorites is definitely clearing Zayne's name off the guilt he was carrying for years. Although I have a genuine question for Infold:

Do you really hate Zayne that much?

I can't understand why you always end his story on a sad note. It actually sounds like he's breaking up with MC, will leave her alone and would disappear?

I don't know why would you make his character as MC's comfort zone, OUR comfort zone then you will go ahead and hurt him like that?!

I did know that this is part of his lore. The part of his story, his past and myths. But you know this. Infold know this. That a lot of women, turns to the Boys, not just Zayne for comfort. For assurance that someone, that they won't leave us.

Take a look at this exchange:

Even MC is totally hurt. After this conversation, MC knowing that something is off and she may get hurt by his evol, she still holds his hands and stay with him. And yet you through another bombshell. HE IS LEAVING US!!! seriously though? I am so frustrated.

The fandom was gushing about how good the epic car chase and hand in hand battle Sylus and Zayne the first day and then it all went down hill the next.

I not even complaining about the story. Its great, I bet this will be a great movie specially Sylus's part of the update. But why must you always hurt Zayne and keep us (Zayne girlies) hanging in yet another uncertain future with him.

You (infold) know it! You created Zayne and MC. They have the deepest connection than any other on the current timeline. So why must you do this to us? While the relationship with the other LaDS boys continue to progress, Zayne and MC keeps going downhill?

I surely am being annoying now. I am even annoyed of what I'm writing. But I hope that Infold keeps this in mind: While we all know that tragic moments need to come to pass, we certainly do not need you hurting us like that. You could have end the update where Zayne and MC return to Linkon. You are able to do happy ending with the other boys, but how could you not for Zayne? Why must he always receive the worst side?

As an emotionally attached person, Zayne is the once currently keep me going each day. I almost look up to another day seeing him. Guessing what he will wear tomorrow and laugh if he dress in those black polo and sunglasses again.

And lastly, I know it was highly unlikely, but if any of the current 5 ML leaves, I will leave the game and the fandom as well. While I know their path will lead to some unfortunate events, I will not tolerate any more mental anxiety from this game. These games supposed to be healing and safe zone for women, yet infold is sacrificing the comfort we are receiving from the game.

Again, this is a personal feeling of disappointment. You are free to agree or disagree. But remember, it doesn't cost anything to be kind and respectful of ones pov and personal well being.

[generalsmemories]

THE MILESTONE EVENT REQUEST (LOVE THE IDEA BTW):

Fluff sentences 6+8

AND ..!

Fluff scenario 2

WITH IL DAN HENG + GN! READER

Good luck (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Intertwined

✧ Imbibitor Lunae!Dan Heng x gn!reader

✧ prompts used: "you're so warm." "i hear you, but we really need to get up, love." + "youre going to get sick if you keep coddling me" "and you're just going to get worse if i don't..." + playing with their hair until they fall asleep || 1k event

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, humor, sick!fic, the reader is the one sick here, mentions of other characters (astral express family), personal headcanons for dan heng (literally only the fact that his blood runs cold)

✧ a/n: crank the fluff meter up cause everything i write about dan heng whether in his IL form or normal form is just fluff. thanks for joining the milestone event anon! i hope this was a comfortable read - not beta-read as well yeehaw.

Dan Heng can feel an added weight on him - a weight that wasn't there the previous evening when he went to bed. He can also feels the unusual warmth of the hands splayed on his back. The sudden weight and difference in temperature on his normally cold skin makes him blink his eyes open.

The only sight he's greeted with however, is the top of your head as you rest on top of him. Your hands had wormed themselves underneath his shirt to seek solace against his cool skin - It's not unusual for you to sneak into the archives to sleep alongside him, mostly on the claim that he was the perfect temperature to hug since his body temperature was naturally cooler in his real form. However, his ears twitch a bit when he hears your low groan when he tries to maneuver the two of you around, Dan Heng stopping in his tracks to actually take a good look at you.

There's a slight flush to your face, and while you look relatively peaceful right now, your eyebrows furrow everytime he tries to move - snuggling closer to him whenever he tries to pry you away from his body. The action makes him let out a defeated sigh, bringing up a hand to gently brush the hair that's been sticking to your face due to sweat away before pressing his palm to your forehead.

The effect is almost immediate, the furrow in your brows receding from his cool touch - but Dan Heng's own eyebrows knit together in concern when he feels how hot you are. He retracts his hand while looking around the futon in search of his phone, but the twists and turn of his body eventually manage to wake you up, "... Dan Heng...?" you murmur, and the Vidyadhara stops in his tracks to focus his attention back on you, "Good morning, how are you feeling?" he asks in a low whisper, maneuvering his hand to rest on the back of your neck which makes you shiver from the difference in temperature.

"I could be better," you say with a laugh, dropping your head back down on his stomach after Dan Heng manage to wriggle you further down his body so he can at least sit up on the futon, "You're so warm, so I was able to sleep better," you utter, words muffled from having your face buried in his shirt.

"... Yeah, you're really sick," Dan Heng confirms once he hears the one comment about his temperature - because you out of everyone should know the fact that his body temperature ran colder than an average human, "But we need to get up, love. Or more specifically, I have to get up to grab something for that cold of yours," he tells you, gently prying your arms away from his waist so he can stand up, but you weakly try to wrap them back around him with a low whine, "No," you protest meekly, eyes still too hazy to comprehend what you're doing, but still firm in staying close to him.

"Don't act so stubborn now, I'm only going to be away for a couple of minutes at most," he reprimands you, already having wormed himself away from you and standing up, but you still manage to meekly grab at his tail before he can scurry off, "... Then take me with you..."

Yeah, that's not happening.

"... Fine I'm not going anywhere, just lay back down for now. You move more than this and you're just going to get worse," he reminds you, pushing you softly aside so that you can lay down on his futon properly, summoning his tail so it can wrap around your waist - a small giggle leaving your lips when the you're able to grab the end to hug, letting a sigh of relief at the cooling sensation against your own heated body.

It doesn't take long before you doze off again, which lets Dan Heng fish out his phone from underneath the pillow you're currently laying on and sending a message to the groupchat.

The Astral Express Family

[Dan Heng]

[Name] is sick and they won't let me out of their sights. Can anyone grab some medicine and come in here later with some food? There's also some medicine Bailu helped me make when I was visiting the Luofu in the medicine cabinet if someone could grab that as well - should help with general fevers.

[Himeko]

I'll ask Pom-Pom to make some congee, how are they doing?

[Dan Heng]

Could be better, they're just a bit out of right now. Some medicine and good rest should be enough.

The Vidyadhara puts the phone aside after informing everyone before leaning over to assess your condition. Your breathing is still shallow, and your temperature is still hot - but at least you're not waking up from sudden movements from him.

Dan Heng eventually settles himself down beside you, propping his elbow up to rest his cheek against his closed fist. His free hand coming up to brush through your hair to help you sleep better.

There's a knock at the archives door around an hour later, and Dan Heng merely utters a quiet, "Come in," before the door slides open and Welt walks in with a sympathetic smile and a tray, "You've really become their cuddle pillow," he comments upon entering, placing the tray by the desk.

In the hour that he waited, you had woken up from your slumber and without a single word leaving your lips you had merely untangled yourself from his tail, gestured for Dan Heng to sit up before sitting on his lap, arms wormed around his waist with your face pressed against his neck.

"Can't say I'm surprised really, thanks for bringing the food in, Mr. Welt."

"Of course, text the groupchat if you need anything else, Pom-Pom would be ecstatic to help again - they haven't moved so fast in a while after all."

Dan Heng lets you sleep a bit longer before he brings a hand up to rub your back, ducking his head down to whisper into your ear, "[Name]? Wake up, try to get something to eat so you can drink some medicine, okay?" you groan in response, rubbing your face further into his neck, "... 'm not hungry," you utter.

"You are. And even if you're not, it's still best for you to eat something. Just a few bites and then you can go back to sleep, okay?" he coaxes, leaning away from you to cup your cheeks so he can look at you, "Come on, for your own sake?" he asks, leaning in to peck the corner of your mouth.

You're only able to get a couple of mouthfuls in before you twist your head away from the spoon, reaching for the medicine laid out before you and gulping it down before letting yourself fall down back on his futon.

It doesn't take you long before you turn over and reach your arms for him, wriggling your fingers to get him to lay down with you - and Dan Heng knows from experience that the more he denies you, the more you will try.

So he merely sighs, laying down before wrapping his arms around you - the content chuckle you let out makes him smile a bit, "You know you're going to get sick if you keep coddling me like this," you muse, and Dan Heng merely rolls his eyes at that comment, "And you're just going to get worse if I don't, so where do we go from there?" he utters back, to which you only make a sound of acknowledgement.

"Can Vidyadhara's even catch these sort of colds?" you ask, pushing yourself up from his hold to instead rest on the man himself, Dan Heng letting out a small grunt at the added weight, but his tail nonetheless worms itself back around your waist to keep you steadily on top of him.

"No, we don't," he confirms, and you give him a cheeky grin, "So I can still kiss you while running a high fever?" you question while leaning a bit closer and he merely raises his eyebrow at you.

"At least I know your fever is going down with how you're joking around like this," he comments, reaching a hand up to cup your head and gently pull you down towards him, giving you a small peck. Your eyes widen in surprise at the notion, and Dan Heng lets out a quiet laugh at your shocked face, "What? Didn't expect me to actually kiss you?"

"... To be honest, no. Not with how you like to keep things clean."

He huffs out a laugh, "I can make a few exemptions for you," he says, reaching a hand behind your head to pull you down to his chest, "Now go sleep. The sooner you get better, the less I have to worry."

"Mmm, thanks for taking care of me."

naru and her struggle with ending drabbles hits again yeehaw.

[frownyalfred]

You mentioned it briefly in an a previous ask and now im curious

To you, what's the difference between an alpha den and an omega nest? And why wouldn't an omega nest be in an alpha den?

I might be wrong, but generally in a/b/o fics they tend to be two discrete places that merge together upon mating, right? So an omega has their nest (usually a bed or room) and the alpha has their den (also usually a room, less focused on comfort, more of a territorial thing) and then once they mate/get married/move in together, the nest and den kind of merge into this dual entity. The nest-and-den. To the alpha character, it's their den; to the omega character, it's their nest. Sometimes they're actually two separate spaces, but usually I don't see that.

I mentioned in the other ask that I think making alphas to dens and omegas to nests is a bit of misnomer to me. Rather, I think omegas have nests as described (beds, rooms, places they go for symptom relief of heats and instincts, etc) and alphas are possessive of spaces that also happen to be the nest. It's not their space, it's the omega's space, but they're possessive of the things in it and the people in/nearby. They're possessive of the space and get twitchy if others aren't pack, but they don't have the same relationship with the nest that the omegas do. They'll ride their rut out in there and view it as theirs mid-rut, but the transfer of power doesn't magically happen just because of that. It doesn't become a den simply because an alpha rides out a rut in a nest. If that makes any sense?

But again, my whole a/b/o verse is an inversion of typical alpha dominance tropes, so the omegas owning and deciding rules on the nest/communal space definitely defies some traditional a/b/o writing on dens. This structure suggests that alphas and omegas use and define their spaces differently during ruts and heats, which I think is an interesting thing to explore since the den/nest duality traditionally suggests those spaces are similar and function equally, which we know they don't. And in my humble opinion, it's much more interesting to ask how and why those spaces are defined differently.

Like maybe an alpha in rut doesn't seek out a den, but some other kind of behavior. Maybe it's not a space thing, but a time thing, or a people thing. Behaviors. Traditional a/b/o suggests omegas return to nests for feelings of safety and security; in-rut alphas aren't looking to be safe and comforted. If we dip into biology, most animals in rut are out in the world trying to fuck, fight or both.