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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years.

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even.

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again.

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces.

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree.

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.”

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work.

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man.

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him.

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition.

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in.

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later.

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case.

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest.

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.”

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included.

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms.

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“What are you doing here?”

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups.

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands.

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following.

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-”

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.”

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed.

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Or at your breakfast bar?”

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.”

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well.

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep.

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave.

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you.

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard.

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you.

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer.

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most.

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon.

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist.

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together.

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer.

“Spencer, its 2pm.”

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you.

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.”

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre.

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.”

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled.

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet.

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own.

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong.

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair.

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that.

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you.

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.”

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.”

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.”

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him.

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen.

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb.

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself.

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-”

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.”

“Laundry?”

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.”

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space.

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?”

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.”

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face.

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.”

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?”

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.”

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors.

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description.

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives.

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second.

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you.

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?”

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support.

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side.

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears.

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?”

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest.

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him.

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile.

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment.

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did.

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly.

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-”

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch.

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.”

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes.

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-”

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.”

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet.

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back.

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out.

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.”

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you.

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.”

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways.

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?”

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-”

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-”

Your voice cracked again.

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for.

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness.

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years.

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-”

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….”

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time.

“And you deserve a break.”

“W-When we take breaks, people die.”

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?”

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess.

“You all had reasons, I-”

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.”

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back.

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream.

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating.

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there.

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin.

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you.

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence.

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly.

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him.

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful.

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever.

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.”

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him.

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you.

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another.

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words.

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head.

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing.

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you.

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours.

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again.

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead.

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you.

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

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syoddeye · 17 days ago

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kinktober - day 28 - phone sex

gaz x f!reader | 1.3k words cw: mutual masturbation, slightly mean ex-boyfriend kyle garrick, but also desperate kyle garrick a/n: you might say "have some pride" but then it's kyle on the other end. summary: kyle calls you for help. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

Your phone clattering on the bedside table startles you awake.

It rips you out of a deep sleep, and your eyes sting from the strain of staring into the dark at the jumping sliver of light. With a groan, you reach out of your blankets and blink until your vision clears. Great. You grimace at the number.

Kyle.

A mixture of irritating emotions tangle together through the fog—annoyance, worry, and, regretfully, interest. As it vibrates, you debate whether to answer. His late-night calls aren’t…unusual, but they always leave you conflicted.

With a resigned sigh, you swipe and bring the phone to your ear, voice thick with drowsiness and edged with a feigned indifference.

"Kyle, it's the middle of the fucking night," you grumble, rolling to your back. You have an inkling of what his call is about.

He doesn’t bother with a ‘hello’ or a ‘how are you’ but jumps straight to business. Something wicked curls in your chest, smug and vindicated at the sound.

Shamelessly, he groans, "Babe, I’m close," There’s a distinctly slick noise down the line. "Can you…Fuck. Can you just talk to me?”

You roll your eyes at his request. Heat creeps into your cheeks, and you try to ignore it. You keep your tone steady and nonchalant, echoing, “Talk to you.”

“J-Just talk. Anything. It’ll help,” He swallows audibly. “If it’s easier, I can be there in ten, and we can—”

“Absolutely not,” you hiss. Like hell, you’ll have him over. Inside you. “Why should I do anything for you? You throw me out of your life for your job, and then just expect me to get you off whenever you want?”

“Fuck, yeah, thassit.”

“Kyle!”

You shift in bed, pushing off the covers slightly. Visions of him fisting his cock come to you unbidden. It’s embarrassing how clearly you can imagine it. You dig your teeth into your lip. Down.

He chuckles, the sound breaking with a hitch, and speaks matter-of-factly. “You fuckin’ love it. You love how I fuck you, don’t you? You know how I’d fuck you right now.”

You rub your temple. “You have such a way with words.”

His voice softens, but you still hear him working himself over. The strain bleeding into his tone. “Help me out, please. I’m, ah, fresh off a work trip. A shit one. You always know how to make it better.”

There it is. The sweet talk. A Kyle Garrick special.

“Come on, babe…If you’re not up for talking, my other suggestion’s on the table.”

And there that is. Him losing his grip on everything but his dick. Theoretically, you hold the power over him—his desperation is clearer than the signal. Your ear might be wet by the time you pull your phone away.

Still. Resentment with a side of horrendous yearning course through you.

You know that with one word, he’d be right outside your door. A part of you wants it. Wants him begging in person, groveling after unceremoniously dumping you weeks ago.

“Your attitude is hardly charming.” You inject as much ice into your voice as you can muster, but it melts at a pitchy breath on his end. Sitting up with resolve, definitely not resignation or defeat, you switch the lamp on and lean against your pillows. A restlessness grows, the inevitable response to Kyle’s calls that seems to always derail any semblance of willpower you pretend to have.

“Babe…?”

"Fine," You finally concede with a sigh. "What is it exactly you want me to say?"

Kyle groans out a yes. “Want you to tell me how much you miss my cock. How you need it.” It’s a wonder his ego fits through the mic. “Tell me, ah, how empty you feel without me. Make me believe it.”

At least he’s predictable.

“Yeah…I…miss your—”

“Don’t patronize me, don’t lie to me. I know when you’re faking it, I always have,” He snaps with a sudden angry and impatient bite, so abrupt that it makes you think you were ignoring it before. “I said make me believe it. Do it, or I’ll come over there right now and we’ll sort out how you really feel.”

It’s bait. Kyle wants to rile you up. He always loved make-up sex. Indignation blooms regardless, the burn familiar and grating, but the worst part is that it works. It butts up against the low-simmering want in your belly. Your free hand twitches on the waistband of your shorts.

You close your eyes. You can do this. Whatever keeps him from turning up.

Wetting your lips, you begin again. “I miss you.” Instantly, your chest tightens. Too sentimental of a start. “I miss how you’d go down on me for hours, how you’d have to hold me down after a while. Not letting up until I was shaking or close to tears.”

“Fuck, yes, babe. Don’t like seeing you cry ‘less it’s like that.”

You loathe how the encouragement makes you feel. “Then how you’d use me to get your dick—”

“Yeah, fuck. Miss that pretty pussy. She always looks so gorgeous after a few kisses. Like she’s cryin’, too.”

Your blunt fingernails scorch through your bush so suddenly you jolt, having not realized your hand slipped into your shorts. You don’t retract it.

“And t-then you’d tease me a little more. With just your,” Your finger tucks right in. “Just the tip.”

“I like how needy your hole gets, fuck, flutterin’ and clenchin’ on nothing.”

Your thumb draws small, tight circles over your swelling clit. “When you finally put it in—like pure heat. Overwhelming.”

“Keep going, don’t stop,” He whines. “So fuckin’ close.”

“Already?” You dare a breathy laugh, slipping your middle finger in alongside your index. They’re nowhere near a proper substitute for Kyle’s fingers or cock, but you’ll make do.

“Babe.” Kyle snarls, huffing. The slick noise is louder. Fuck, he must be dripping.

You chuckle uneasily, then wedge your phone between your ear and shoulder, snaking your newly freed hand to pet your clit so you can fuck yourself better.

As you continue, it’s like there’s a phantom sensation of Kyle’s body against yours. His cock in place of your hand, when he’d pause his thrusting to slowly grind. “And, ah, when you were inside me, hard and deep, it was like nothing I’d ever felt.” You force a second, wry laugh, hedging your words with a sarcastic effect, but you swear you feel it. Your eyes squeeze shut, tongue darting out to lick the salt off your mouth. You might actually come from this.

“Fuck, babe…” Kyle’s breaths come in short bursts now. Maybe seconds from coming, you think. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Something must be twisted in your head. Your brain pauses, but your fingers don’t. You’re near drooling onto your phone and pillow, both hands working yourself at a desperate pace. A sliver of reason begs you to pry a hand out of your underwear and hang up.

You’ve done dumber things, surely.

“I’m yours.”

Kyle grunts into the line and mutters a storm of curses. You picture him bucking off the mattress, heels dug into it, sheets rucked down to his knees, shirt pulled up to…

“Fuck. Finally,” He sighs, whistling low as he comes down. Then he yawns, and you hear him adjusting in bed. “Well, thanks babe. Same time next week?”

Your eyes bulge in the dark, fingers startling to a stop at the rapid change in conversation. You fumble for your phone. “I don’t—”

“G’night, love.”

Click.

You nearly throw your phone. Grumbling, you blindly open your bedside table, grab your vibrator, and finish business.

Stupid. Pompous. Greedy. Bastard.

You’re only slightly ashamed when you come clenching around your fingers, imagining him instead. As you wash up, hoping that rubbing one out helps you into a dreamless sleep, your phone buzzes again.

Then, a distant knock at the door to your flat.

>> gonna let me in, or is one enough for you?

#gaz x reader #gaz x f!reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x f!reader #sy kinktober #kinktober #the last gaz prompt for kinktober :') so close to the end!

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hollyhomburg · 2 months ago

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Before I Leave You (Pt.75)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Getting you home and into the nest before your heat hits proves to be a bit more of a challenge than Namjoon anticipated.

Tags: forced caretaking, slight loss of autonomy, feral omega's, m/c acts a little violent at the beginning, biting, blood, brief blood play, kinda inspection kink if you squint, body worship, preheat, non- sexual nudity, cramps, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega content, possessive behavior, omegaspace, yoongi has slight self-esteem issues, discussed past abuse but everything is better, manhandling,

W/c: 13.7k

A/n: I feel guilty because i had to snip this chapter in half because there was simply too much stuff going on in my life at the moment and i didn't want to go more than a month between updates. on the bright side i will try to get the second part out quicker, and i will also be very drunk at a engagement party when this is posted <3 gotta love that for me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Yoongi stands on the porch, watching the street.

The warm air tickles the hair on his forehead, bringing with it the familiar smell of ocean brine and a faint daffodil from across the street. The streetlight isn’t bright enough to cast them into anything like color, but the smell remains- still it’s not the scent that he’s looking for. The scent that Yoongi’s body hungers for.

That’s why he looks into the street, looks to the end of it where the tallest streetlights glimmer lighting up the concrete and the stop sign.

Looking for you and coming up empty handed.

His heart beats hard at the passing headlights of every car. Every thrum of wheels against the ground makes his body perk up. And every car that passes without turning in makes his hopes come crashing down. Like a seesaw, up and down. Like the ocean's rising tides reaching for the shore and finding it always a little out of reach.

Logically, Yoongi knows they have at least another hour, but it's hard to tell his instinct that- to detangle the fear in his chest and make something useful of it.

2 hours ago. That’s when he called you. Panicked and nervous about ruining your vacation- only to greet similar panic down the line.

Yoongi had been right earlier. Yoongi doesn't know if he feels vindicated or sick with worry. Self-assured or absolutely terrified. He’d been right, but he hadn’t believed in himself. He'd known and yet he hadn’t done anything about it, hadn't put his foot down or kept you home and kept you safe. you are halfway across the state where he cannot help, cannot touch you, cannot ease this pain.

All because he didn't speak up. All because he was trying to be a good mate and was trying to let you make decisions for yourself. something in him, deep and dark and hungry, says 'See, this is why she needs you, see? This is why you should be more firm. The others are allowed why not you?

Yoongi quiets the voice but does not stop feeding it. You'd sounded so small over the line, your voice so quiet and so tired.

Jin’s loud shouts punctuate the night-time quiet. The interior of the house is similarly a place of worry strife and instinct as night falls. Yoongi can just barely make out Jin's words as he barks orders at Jimin and Tae to move it this way no move it that way. A distant laugh is a balm to Yoongi’s nerves. Drawing a smile to his lips even now. Even bratty, even in pre-heat the pack still clamber to do everything their pack omega asks.

Yoongi isn't just worried about you, he's worried about Jin too. Any other time he would be inside and helping Jin make the heat nest. holding him and easing away his instincts, making him calm in the way that the others- not even Jungkook- can.

But this heat is not going to be like the others.

The pack has never handled two heats at once before. Two ruts? Sure. That happens more often. Jimin and Tae go in spits and spurts, in sync one rut and then out of sync the next. But Yoongi has a feeling that everything is about to change. It's not abnormal for an alpha to skip a rut or an omega to skip a heat with the addition of a new packmate. But this? Two omegas in heat all at once?

Yoongi feels more than a trickle of fear.

Nesting instincts are an endless chaffing in pre-heat. The last time Yoongi dared venture inside the house Jungkook was dragging the bulk of the pack's nesting material into the basement to wash it preemptively. By now they're probably already drying. Probably being dumped warm on top of the broody pack omega inside, enough to placate him temporarily.

"What did you do with my pup! Nest theif! I want my pup"

Jinnie sounds close to tears, Jimin's low voices must not be soothing because Yoongi hears a hiss and a the telltale thump of a pillow thrown against a door. Yoongi winces.

He hopes Jin doesn't hit a window. He's got frightfully good aim, so there's a good chance he won't actually try to destroy the house.

If they’re lucky they’ll have another day before the heat is in full swing. If they're not lucky it will hit by tomorrow morning. Regardless of when it actually hits. The pack has another hour before they have two cranky omegas in pre-heat, and that's more than they could hope for.

Yoongi should be doing prep work. He should be cutting up fruit or putting in another food order for tomorrow morning (that was the first thing he did after getting off the phone with you). It's too late to sneak away to the store; Jin's instincts might take it as a threat and make his heat come quicker to keep Yoongi close by. Yoongi should make sure that the pack has enough protein bars and easy-to-eat things for you and Jin.

Your body not being strong enough was the whole reason why you never went into heat in the first place- making sure this doesn't strain you too much should be his primary concern.

And yet, all Yoongi can do is look out at the driveway and wait for you to come home. Watching the darkness for headlights like people check the night sky for shooting stars and eventual wishes. There are things to do and meals to cook, nesting material to gather and wash. But Yoongi is still as a statue, standing watch and keeping guard. Shaking just a little- although he's not sure if it's nerves or just the cold.

(Frozen in fear, absolutely scared shitless, body a mess of misfiring anxiety and worry. Breathes coming quick. Goosebumps. The idea of every little bad thing that's ever happened to you that could continue to happen. Hurtling down his train of thought like a runaway car. Endlessly hurtling in a single direction towards a singular direction.)

Thank God it’s just you and Jin. If Jungkook went into heat too- who knows what the pack would do.

Yoongi’s fingers continue their drumming on the banister, Yoongi watches the moths flutter around the streetlight in the center of the cul-de-sac.

The door behind him opens letting the sounds from inside spill out onto the porch. And Hobi who has narrowly escaped Jin’s wrath with a fresh-looking pink hickey on his throat.

Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised if everyone inside wore his mark, it’s likely they’ll wear it before the night is through. Jin’s snappish reply of. “No- not there Kookie- here- like this-”

Yoongi winces. And tells himself that whatever scratches are left on the floor from them rearranging furniture will be worth the effort it eventually takes to buff them out.

Jin is a bratty commander when it comes to making a heat nest, they’ve been working on it for the better part of the last few hours. Making it perfect- making it for you. Everyone knows that Jin won't stop until you're home. You're to be the finishing touch, the last and most important addition.

Hobi stands in the doorway for a second calling yoongi's name softly. The sound is honey-soft in the nighttime quiet. Yoongi's teeth worry away at his lower lip.

Yoongi doesn’t turn, Yoongi can’t turn away from the street, even as Hobi comes up behind him and sets a warm palm on his shoulder.

“If you won’t come inside, will you at least put on a jacket?”

Yoongi doesn’t want to, if only to punish himself with the chill in the air. You must be cold too- an omega in heat outside of a nest and without enough packmates to help you regulate your body temperature seems so neglectful.

He doesn’t respond, but a few seconds later a thick blanket that smells of Jin hyung (overly sweet, overly syrupy even to Yoongi’s dull nose) is placed around his shoulders. When he turns away from the street for a second, Hobi grins a little nervously.

“It was the only way I could get him to agree to let you stay outside.”

Yoongi bites his lip and doesn’t speak- feeling like if he does something embarrassing or scary will happen (or both). Hobi nuzzles into the side of Yoongi’s face, ignoring the way that Yoongi subtly shifts away. All too aware of Yoongi's predicament. Does Hobi know how unworthy he feels of the touch? That he feels he doesn't deserve the comfort?

Stepping up close behind until he can feel the alpha’s heat behind his back. Hooking his chin over his shoulder and nosing into his throat. Yoongi knows his scent smells sour and salty, knows it but Hobi doesn't recoil.

(The monstrous thing in Yoongi's chest that wants and wants and wants does not get room to move around, mostly because Yoongi does not feed it. He keeps his ego and his arrogance on a tight leash, a leash that your love holds the other end of. A many-headed dog like Cerberus guarding the underworld. Yoongi's desires and you. Two similarly sinful pursuits on either side of the scale judging Yoongi neither monster nor man).

Yoongi doesn't know what's wrong. Is this what the heat feels like? Coming down the mating mark?

“Are you okay?” Hobi asks, even though he must already know and can certainly scent it on him. Yoongi doesn’t look at Hobi, worried he’ll break if he does. “You can tell me you know? It's okay I'm-" I’m her person too, I’m worried too.

Yoongi could let it go. Yoongi could say nothing and he knows that Hobi would let him- but- but-

The words come out all at once, scared and quick. Yoongi is so scared and he doesn’t know what to do. Yoongi is a mess of emotions, some overlapping and some contradictory. He's feeling so many things at once and all he can do is stand here and watch the fucking street.

“I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Yoongi turns back to look at Hobi anxiously. “Jin and Jungkook- that’s different. That you know I’ve done before but-” Yoongi hesitates. “I’ve never helped her through a heat before and Jin is so particular. What if she- what if I'm not-"

Yoongi takes a shaky breath. What if she needs more than I can give her, what if she doesn’t want me to touch her. What if we’re not back there yet. I've treated her so poorly the last few weeks. I'd understand. I'll have to understand if she says she doesn't want me.

Yoongi's instincts rage, Pacing the inside of his mind like a trapped zoo animal. A monster that's never allowed out, aching to stretch its claws.

Ruts and heats have a way of bringing out your hidden wants and desires. The things you’ve been holding back, and what you haven’t said.

There are other reasons why omegas usually mate alphas. The fact of the matter is that Yoongi might not be able to sate you in the way that matters.

It's simple biology; Yoongi does not have a knot.

Jin and Jungkook don't calm until they get one and neither does their heat fever. A heat fever is something that can actually be dangerous for Jungkook and his seizures. He doesn't usually have them during his heat, but the few times he has have not ideal.

Yoongi's usual job during heats is not the same as Hobi, Jimin, or Namjoon and Tae. Yoongi's there to settle, to ease. Usually, he's the only scent that the omega can tolerate during pre-heat. The only scent that doesn't bring about headaches and nausea.

But he can't even do that right, smelling sour as he does and miserable with you so far away. Yoongi has never wished he was born an alpha, never, but it’s hard not to wish it just a little right now.

As if on cue, deep in the house Jin snaps at Jimin harshly. “Not there, please don’t put it like that Minnie- Minnie- stop.”

And then the next minute Jin goes back on it as if recognizing his harsh tone. turns from angry to teary and overwhelmed in an instant. “I’m sorry Minnie I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“It’s okay hyung. Just tell me where it needs to be.”

Understanding and allowances are offered to omegas in pre-heat. Jin's instincts are probably making him feel ten times as worse than anything said in the pre-heat of the moment could. The pack won't take anything said personally.

But you might if Jin snaps at you. Yoongi knows it might actually hurt you. You're sensitive like that. Delicate. Too delicate to be going through your pre-heat in a fucking moving car. Yoongi's stomach lurches at the horror of it.

“I’ve kept my distance but now-”

“And now you feel like that might bite you in the ass because you’re not where you should be to help her with her heat.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi’s eyes are glassy in the light of the streetlight.

“I’ve never helped her with this before. I don’t know what she likes or what she doesn’t, I don’t know where the boundaries are and I’m really-” he takes a steadying breath, “really used to that.” This is one of the few things that you and Yoongi have yet to go through. That he has yet to understand about you.

Hobi swallows, “This is new for all of us then.”

Yoongi glances at Hobi's face, letting out another breath; less shaky. Hobi looks out at the street. He doesn't look worried; he doesn't even look nervous. Hobi has every reason to be a little bit tentative around omegas and their heats and he can count the number of times you've had sex on both hands. But if he's afraid or unsure, he doesn't show any of it.

“It’s okay not to have all the answers. It’s okay to be scared and worried. If you wanted to not help-" Hobi sighs, "I don’t know."

Yoongi shakes his head firmly the second Hobi voices it. “No, I want to. I’d never ever do that to her. Never. It's just scary.” I’m just scared. Yoongi��s arms are wrapped around his body, but his hand hovers over his hip, and Hobi notices for the first time how he’s cradling it.

“The mating mark- it’s so tender. It actually hurts right now. I think it’s telling me I need to be close to her.”

With alpha's and omega's who are mated, a mark often means that one heat triggers a rut and vice versa- or at least false heat and false rut. Hobi is unsurprised that Yoongi is feeling at least something.

“I’m sure she wants to be close to you too hyung.” Yoongi’s eyes go darker and it’s like he’s not sure if he really believes him. He doesn’t want to call Hobi out on placating him. So instead- hoseok changes the subject.

“What does the mating mark feel like?” Hobi has never asked. Yoongi goes quiet, palm lays flat over Hobi’s chest not exactly over his heart but close to the bone. Where Hobi’s ribs and all of him connect covered by a thin layer of muscle and skin.

For a second Hobi would swear he feels some horrible terrible ache.

“It feels like there’s an emptiness here, an emptiness so hollow that it hurts. It’s like a scab you want to pick or an itch. Not a wound but something different. It's like needing to breathe and holding your breath. Like being hungry only you can’t eat. Like wanting to sleep but you can't dream. It's like that, all at once and all the time.” Hobi’s breath hitches, bones and body expanding against Yoongi’s touch. “And it only goes away when she’s next to me.”

Hobi’s eyelashes flutter, “Namjoon and Jin, and Tae and Jimin- when they-”

“Oh, they’re gonna be fucking ridiculous, absolutely impossible. Jin isn’t gonna let Joonie out of his sight. I think Jimin will go legitimately crazy too- if he's not already. It was a lot worse at the beginning. Even her sneezing felt scary, like leaving the room for a tissue was gonna take all of me with her."

Yoongi and you don't talk about your beginning often- those few months that you both lived in this house and adjusted to each other without the pack. Hobi’s hand settles on the back of Yoongi’s neck, and it's like he can touch those moments like this, run his fingers along the strings of fate that have bound you and Yoongi so close it's hard to detangle either of you. He can feel your name in every pulse of Yoongi's heart, the rhythm and the melody to his being.

Maybe it's a good thing this wasn't me, maybe it's a good thing that I never had this choice Hobi thinks. Although there is still time- Jungkook doesn't want to mate- and the pack already has it's decided pairs. Hobi might not want it to be anyone but you.

Who knows who he might have become. What he might have done as your mate. Yoongi has never second guessed himself for Jin or Jungkook's heats before.

Yoongi does not growl and snap his teeth at the shadows. Yoongi doesn't even pace, he just stands and waits.

Hobi pulls him to rest back against his chest and Yoongi goes quiet. And when he looks up, he looks so scared, so young and Hobi knows he’s just terrified. Hobi presses his face into the side of Yoongi’s neck, nuzzling against his scent gland in little circles. Rubbing cheek to cheek to soothe his anxious scent, not all the way but just a little.

Hobi might be making things up, but for a second- it almost smells like Yoongi’s a little sweeter- smelling a little muskier, whatever part of his body that is bonded to yours already adjusting for the necessary stress of the next few days. Mate’s bodies are so perfectly in sync.

“You’re her mate,” Hobi says it like that’s all there is to it, voiced hushed and reverent with the truth of it.

“But what if I'm not enough and I want to be enough."

“You have a pack- you’ve got us. It’s not just on you anymore.”

Yoongi’s heart is thudding so fast, that he feels like he can’t tear his eyes away from the driveway. It will be a few more hours still until you and Namjoon get home.

Until then, the two of them stand there and wait. Yoongi tips sideways until he’s leaning into Hobi’s chest and Hobi's hands hold Yoongi up, carry the weight of his body. That at least, he can carry.

~-~

The drive home is long and uncomfortable. Several times you double over, curling up in a ball in the front seat, the cramps racking through you violently and without pause.

Everything presses into you, the seatbelt, Namjoon's scent. The distance between you and the house, you and your nest, you and the pack. Everything is an oppressive weight pinning your breath in your chest and making you breathe quick.

Namjoon’s hands stay on the wheel, the back of your neck sometimes. His palm is cool against your clammy skin. Soothing you with grumbles and words of encouragement that do little to actually help the pain. After an hour or so, Namjoon just can’t stop saying, “I’m sorry.” over and over again.

You don’t stop you drive straight through, skirting traffic and long stretches of brake lights that seem to stretch on for miles and bleed into each other. Irritating your eyes and making you close them. Your skin is so oversensitive that every place it touches your scratchy sweater or the leather seat feels like too much, the sensation too vibrant and intense.

You wish Yoongi was here, his clothes are always so soft, and his hair and his skin too. You wish you had his scent on you and not Namjoon's- the thoughts makes you feel so guilty you dare not voice it.

And then the nausea starts and you have to turn away from Namjoon at every available opportunity so that you don't vomit. Especially when the car lurches. You have him crack the windows and then open them fully the worse it gets; you dry heave out the open window.

“I’m sorry Joonie I don’t know why I'm,” Your face leans against the open door, sweaty somehow but still cold regardless of Namjoon’s jacket over your shoulders and the heat pumping from the vents.

“It’s alright pup, it’s okay, you don't need to apologize. Jin gets this way too.” You couldn’t even pinpoint what was so wrong in his scent if you wanted to but the curdling nature of his liquor in coffee makes you feel like you’ve just taken a dozen shots on Christmas Eve. You feel nauseous, teary-eyed, and upset. Something clawing at your chest that hurts more than anything else.

You must fall asleep at some point, or fall into a stupor because you feel it in your bones that you’re home before Namjoon even fully comes to a halt. Eyes still shut but blood singing and heart beating quick. You hear it, the whisper of your mate’s scent in the air. Maybe someone actually says your name, maybe you hear it from far away.

Your fingers fumble on the door handle and you don’t even have your eyes open as you tumble out of the car. The car lurches to a stop the same second you try to get out, dizzy and off-kilter, trying to get your feet under you while vertigo makes the world spin, the streetlight, a figure silhouetted against the porch light runs to you.

You see him in double vision.

“Pup- Don’t-" But Namjoon is too late to warn you and You fall out of the car onto the gravel.

The momentum of the car takes you, banging into the door first with so much force that it's jaring before you crumple onto the gravel where it digs into your hands sharp. Painful.

But you hardly feel it. Your hands are suddenly slippery with something you can't see. Something you don't care about because you just need to get inside, you just need to get to the figure running towards you. Seeing double- are there two people running towards you or just one?

Dizzy, you are so dizzy and you actually are going to vomit. No sooner have you wretched onto the gravel below you than is someone picking you up, and you actually do let out a high-pitched keen.

His hands are under your arms, the light from the porch casting his face into shadow chiaroscuro, but you'd know him anywhere. If not from his scent or the fluff of his hair then by the way your heart sings when he touches you.

"I've got you, I've got you. Oh sweetheart, it's gonna be okay- i'm here."

Yoongi presses his face to the top of your head. And you grip the front of his jacket while he picks you up. His hand rubbing away the frustrated tears on your cheeks. Hands pushing back the hair from your sweaty face, your flushed cheeks.

And then your hand comes up to touch his face, and both of you see the blood.

There is blood on your hands, on the side of Yoongi's face when you touch him.

Yoongi smells so good, so unbelievably good. Like sleep after sex, like chocolate ice cream in the middle of a summer night, so sweet and heady and musky you start to leak slick a little, Legs shaky. You don't care about the metallic cling of blood to the air. Everything else is unimportant but him and staying close to him.

You shrink away from the tall presence behind you, Namjoon bristles, and Tae is on the top of the steps watching you. Her voice almost hissed. "Don't do that again." Namjoon grips the back of your shirt, huffing a tired sigh.

“Don’t run away from us pup it’s not-”

But then He spots the blood, suddenly strong-arming his way around Yoongi to get to it despite your chirp of protest. Namjoon's hands are big where they clutch at your hands, his hair standing on end. There is another person behind Yoongi. You weren't seeing double.

“Not safe,” Jimin finishes, pulling Yoongi towards the house. And then the wind shifts casting the scent of blood to Jimin and his nostrils flare. His whole body tenses and a growl sounds out before he's even seen, looking down at your hand. Eloquent with his. "Oh- oh fuck- how the fuck did you even fuck up your hand like that?"

"Get her inside" Namjoon barks. His anger a wild thing in the darkness. Your sweet heat scent tangles with the smell of blood sets them all on edge.

"What?" You say, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you don't like how cross your alphas sound, "What did I do?"

No one answers you, Yoongi curls around you as if he's trying to use his body to shield you from any prying eyes. Namjoon settles a hand on the back of Yoongi's neck and pushes him towards the house, towards the den, towards safety.

Your knees knock, and then give out. It's only through the virtue of having so many of them around you and Yoongi still basically holding you up that you don't fall over again.

"I'll get your stuff from the car."

"No- leave it Jimin just help me."

The sensations tangle. Jimin and Namjoon and their unhappy scents. Yoongi’s strong arms. Yoongi’s hands on you basically carrying you up and over the slate to the steps. Jimin is close beside him, You glance over Yoongi's shoulder at Jimin, watching his jaw roll. You turn your face away from him and his drawn expression. His stinky stinky vanilla and smoke scent- stale and grating- everything is too much too much too much.

"What's going on? Why can't I stand?" Even your own voice sounds far away.

"It's your blood pressure," Namjoon snaps.

Yoongi’s hard hands grip around your waist and when you pull back a little his dark hair catches the light from the streetlight and he ducks in close. Rubbing his chin across the crown of your head. “I’ve got you; I’ve got you, here- get inside.”

He half carries you half walks you back up the steps under the porch light. Tae opens the door for you huffing, looking tired, a ring of hickeys bitten into her pretty pretty collar bones. You want to rub your face into them and add your own marks but she also smells too intense to get too close. "Pup? What's-"

You push your face into Yoongi’s throat in reply, so close that Yoongi wonders how you must be breathing; all you’re inhaling is his scent. His chocolate is a balm to your heat-fried nerves. But Yoongi feels it too, the pressure behind his eyes, his teeth, itching for a bite to render you docile and calm.

You are losing track of the minutes and moments. You are in the kitchen and your hand is under the water. Yoongi is still holding you, and Namjoon is talking to you. Making you open your palm. You can't hear what he's saying.

You try and lift up your hands, but Tae doesn't let you take Namjoon's jacket from around your shoulders. Seemingly thinking the same thing that Namjoon and the rest of them are.

That you need to be minded. It's not too far from the truth.

Your anxiety and annoyance ticks higher as you look around. Has the house changed in the last 10 hours? Why do the lights feel so bright? There are bags and bags of groceries on the counter, sitting grey-yellow like tumbleweeds, half empty.

The couch has none of its usual blankets on it and it makes your nostrils flare- Jin had a nest there this morning- why isn’t it there? Where did it go? Who took it? Where is your pack omega? Why do you feel so annoyed? Why does everything feel a little bit off?

Where is Jinnie?

Namjoon touches your scrape and it stings. A piece of gravel thumps into the kitchen sink with a metallic plunk. The water stops going red and really- you can't even feel it. You try to tell Namjoon that- but he doesn't listen.

Namjoon is biting his lower lip to keep from yelling at you. Jimin is trying to keep you standing, but you seem more intent on leaning back into Yoongi's arms to press your face into his scent gland.

His hands cradle you, holding you over your stomach, nuzzling close. Closing his eyes hard before looking up at Namjoon, eyes swimming with guilt.

"I'm sorry. I should have been quicker," his hands are shaking where they hold you. All of you are that- shaken.

But blood first, pre-heat second.

"It's not your fault." Namjoon spits, wrapping your cut firmly. Gentle with how he holds you even if he holds you so hard you cannot do anything. Cannot squirm or move or wiggle your fingers. Like this, you can do nothing at all but be held and taken care of.

The gash isn't bad at all really, it doesn't need stitches, and it runs from the middle of your thumb just down to your wrist where it peters out. Clean and not bleeding clotting. You wouldn't know that with the way that Namjoon is crouched over that the way he stiffens when he cleans the dirt from it.

"I don't think her fingers are broken, fuck- do you think Jin would let me take her to the hospital?"

"You just got home Joonie-"

"I know but-"

Instead of wiggling your fingers, you flick water in Namjoon's direction. It hits his face with an audible plop and the pack alpha flinches.

The whole pack just stares at you.

Namjoon wipes the water off of his face, slow and intentionally with every movement of his body. You sense Namjoon's composure is about to slip. Good- you really want it too.

"See I can move my fingers!" You flick Namjoon again. Smiling a little, grinning, dopy and so high on heat hormones that you think it is funny. Flicking Namjoon to show your hand isn't broken even if your knuckles are a little scraped really- you'll be fine. They don't need to act like you're dying.

You try to do it again but Jimin grabs both of your wrists, holding you still. "That is the opposite of helpful." Tae snaps.

"Don't yell at me. I'm too tiny." you say, your voice that. Small.

Namjoon whips his hands on a kitchen cloth slowly. Staring you down without saying anything.

Yoongi runs his teeth over the back of your throat, hard, enough that you feel it, and it's like it unlocks your instincts. He's not sure why he does it- why you need the release of violence before your heat begins but you do.

Jimin and Yoongi Keep you in one place as you try to lunge for Namjoon. You barely even jerk in their firm hold. strong as they are. every one of them has more than half a foot on you- you'd never stand a chance really. Jimin holds you effortlessly- without even breaking a sweat.

Namjoon grips your face in his hands, and you almost want to hiss at him. Lip lifting in a soundless snarl. His voice is a gentle hush, a tone you are intimately familiar with.

The same tone of voice that has preceded every punishment and scolding you've ever received from the pack alpha. Every time he's ever coaxed you to take his knot (icky) or an orgasm (less icky). As he drags you close and speaks to you. Soft but firm. gentle but unyielding.

"You are allowed to be needy, you are allowed to be small. You are allowed to need everything and anything and I will personally make sure that each one of those needs are fulfilled."

You aim to bite him his hand, teeth clicking together, but Tae holds your jaw. Fingers digging into your lower lip. Making your lips push out. You push at them but they hold you still.

You like it. You like feeling your alpha's strength, your mate's strength. Where they begin and you end. You want to test it want to make sure they can protect you. Want to make sure they're worthy.

For what? You can't say. you think it might have something to do with the terrible sensitivity between your thighs, the bleeding hot need slowly gripping you, a distant storm rumbling. But you're not sure.

Tae keeps your mouth open and Namjoon taps his finger against your tongue, your lips, your teeth. Does he like how sharp they are? They feel awfully sharp in your mouth. Good omega, see? You want to tell him. Strong like you. Not a pup. You don't whine and recoil the way an alpha would at being poked and prodded at. You fight one moment then go pliant the next. letting him look, letting him touch and pinch your tongue between his fingers, loling it out and making it cute. tears building at the corner of your eyes by how frustrated you feel, how much you want.

"How cute" Tae coo's and you hiss at her- or try too. Namjoon's finger pressing against your tongue stops you from doing anything but whine.

Jimin smiles. Agreeing. "Cute little omega, acting like an alpha."

Tae lets you go after she's sure you're not going to try and bite Namjoon again, You grin at him, bearing your teeth. Behind you Tae stresses, concerned at how far you're trying to push Namjoon.

"Pup-"

"No, let her hiss." Yoongi's voice rumbles behind you. You let it out and although you mean it to sound threatening, it's more a tiny kitten than a powerful jungle cat. As loud and as menacing as you can make it but still- awfully cute. Tae hides her smile behind a hand and behind you, Yoongi rolls his eyes, all fond. He sort of wishes he got that on camera.

Namjoon smiles gently. And you want to scratch it off his unnervingly pretty face. You try. But Jimin effortlessly holds your wrists.

Namjoon taps your nose and you jerk- trying to fight them but getting about two inches before both your mate and Jimin have you completely immobile.

Some part of you loves being held and controlled like this and wants to purr instead of hiss. Your mate and Minnie are so strong- they hold you so well. It makes you feel all fuzzy and floaty. Like your anger and body is a separate creatures.

"If she bites you, I'm not kissing it better."

"She's allowed" Namjoon is looking away from you and you don't like it- the pack alpha should be looking only at you. You are feeling too many things at once, so many. Angry at Namjoon and hungry for him. Annoyed by his presence but needy for his attention. "I bit her when I was in rut you know. She owes me a good nibble."

"Not gonna bite you-" you hiss while you struggle against Jimin's grasp, but he doesn't even have to fight to keep your hands from pushing at Namjoon. You want to push at him more- want to get him to lose control. "You're icky."

Namjoon laughs, and it only makes you more angry.

An omega in preheat bleeding is a creature of instinct. Your instincts can not sort through what you need and what you want. Why you're bleeding and why you're not in the nest. Confusing threat for care.

Namjoon doesn't even blink in the face of your aggression. "You're allowed to bite me and hiss and want to pick a fight- to test us- But what you are not allowed to do- not now, not ever, and certainly not in pre-heat- is jump out of a moving fucking car."

"Namjoon" Jungkook says from the doorway. Leashed anger in his voice.

The whole pack looks up at him and you break eye contact, breaking the spell on all of you- and you go from jungle cat to fluffy kitten in two seconds.

You forget Namjoon instantly at the sight of him.

Jungkook is there, Jungkook is there and he’s the only person besides your mate that doesn’t smell too much or too intense. You completely shift out of Jimin's grasp and the alpha lets you. Disregarding his anger too- as you should. He smells so yucky.

Jungkook does not smell yucky. He doesn’t smell like his unhappy rotten flowers- no- Jungkook smells so thick and happy you half expect your mouth to be stuck shut with honey when you open your lips and chirp. It sounds petulant and pupish even to your own ears, but Jungkook just smiles and bullies Jimin and Tae out of the way to get his arms around you.

Yoongi does not. But you wouldn't want him to anyway. He back hugs you, keeping your back pressed against his chest. Face tucked into your throat.

Strange. All of that was so strange. you're angry one minute then sweet the next. utterly pliant and a doll under their touch. scenting you this way and that.

You tangle your hand in Jungkook’s shirt and grab him, tug him close. Whining. The corners of his eyes crinkle. And you know all your fears of pushing this on them so suddenly are for nothing.

Jungkook bounces up and down on his heels- he smells sweet and excited. You’re so relieved when you see him that you actually start crying a little. “You saw me like literally 5 hours ago-“

“I know- but- but-”

Jungkook’s purring is loud and strong against your chest. A sound that shocks out of your own chest too. A special little omegan hello.

Yoongi’s hand settles on your back, one on Jungkook’s too. “Both of you need- we’ve got to-”

"At least wait until the blinds are shut before you start purring. Are you trying to announce to the whole world that you're-" Namjoon's worrying is cut off by Tae's hand on his arm, his shoulder? Your alphas ring you, keeping their distance only slightly. Over your head- Yoongi mouths 'leave it'.

The sound of Jungkook purring fills the air with his honey-golden scent. Makes you forget about the living room and your hand, and everything else that's wrong with the den slips away. It’s a sound you usually only hear in the nest, during the quiet of the morning when things are especially good and special.

He lets you rub your face into his chest until your nose is rubbed raw- you already feel raw, everything chafing. And you let out a happy little trill when he rubs his wrist along yours.

Behind you- one of your alpha's lets out a deep pleased growl. Someone says something that sounds like "Possessive little shit" pouty and grumpy that they didn't get to you first.

You sense that things are being said over the top of your head but you have neither the want nor brain cells to listen to them. Trying to press your face as hard as you can into Jungkook's throat. Into Yoongi’s, then back again.

Jungkook paws at your sweater, and you protest for a moment before you let him, tugg up the hem, not off, not yet. “It’s too scratchy” he nips at your throat, rubbing his wrist over your stomach at the same time. The pleasure-good-nest-Jungkook-omega of it makes your knees go a little weak.

Yoongi catches you and Namjoon jerks forward arms out. For all his snapping he is still the first person to reach to catch you. “Wait until she’s in the nest Jk here-” They puppet you- and you’re honestly more interested in pressing your face to his and Yoongi’s necks than helping them waddle walk you across the house.

Good- something nearby smells really really good. Not like Namjoon who smells too stressed, the scent of his displeasure a zing against your nose. Not like Jiminie who's all stinky, not like the touches of Taetae here. Her's is usually a scent that you love but now she smells so cloying you want to paw at your nose and get it out.

“Hobi and Jinnie are already in the nest-” Namjoon stoops to kiss Jimin's mouth, a quick peck that interrupts his words. “Koo was helping me cook and I think we've got enough food but-"

"That's perfect Mini thank you."

Jimin preens under the pack alpha's attention and you whine. On closer inspection Jimin and Jungkook and just about everyone is covered in bite marks ringing their throats. You know the shape of Jinnies mouth. The sight of them has you blinking, wide-eyed, an ache in your jaw that you don’t understand.

Pretty alpha’s you need to bite your pretty alphas- they’re just so yummy. Yummy but stinky. Maybe you can wait until after they shower and they stop smelling so gross.

Yoongi huffs, answering you even though you didn’t realize you were speaking. “You need to eat real food first,” you stay buried in his chest. Namjoon sighs.

They move you slowly through the house, stepping over curled-up heaps of blankets on the floor. Inelegant curls of fabric.

You know what they are- decoy nests. Meant to distract any potential alphas or predators from finding your real nest. A behavior that like the purring and chirping, is vestigial. You know your alphas are strong enough that they’d never dream of letting anyone into your den.

Luckily, they're not any of your usually favored nesting materials- the blanket that’s just a slightly displeasing shade of chartreuse here, the one that has too thick seems here. You don’t mind them, something about the sight of them makes the last of your anxiety dissipate.

You can only imagine Jin feeling what you feel- the anxious ever gripping anxiety of an unseen threat, not having Namjoon nearby must have done a number on him. You love him, even if you wanna bite him. You tell him that.

"I know- Just-" he grumbles. Admits, "love you too."

You won’t be confused; you know your pack omega wouldn’t want you anywhere else but in your real nest next to him. Jungkook and Yoongi steer you. Guiding you not to the nest upstairs but through the house past your and Yoongi's old bedroom. On the way past the door, namjoon checks the lock, making sure it's secure.

They take you through the house to the pack's old bedroom. What had been turned into a little extra shelf space for Tae’s collection has now been disassembled. Redesigned in Jin’s nesting fervor.

You don’t know how your alphas moved the shelves out because you thought you saw Yoongi bolt them to the studs. You have a sinking suspicion that they’ve put them in the room at the end of the hall- all of the clutter stuffed there to where it can’t aggravate the sensitive pack omega.

The nest almost takes your breath away. It's so perfect.

The floors have been laid clean; mattresses piled from wall to wall with only a small space of spare floor to step into the room. Every single pillow and blanket and what looks to be half of the pack’s wardrobe are piled in concentric circles.

It’s a good choice, to have your heat here. The walls feel so close and yet the ceiling doesn’t feel too far away, cozy and protected. The warm walls are shadowed by the lights above. The translucent curtains pool and hover like low-hanging clouds and keep the nighttime out. You're protected here on the ground floor and the alpha's won't have to go too far to get you food and pee and do whatever else they'll need to do while you're in heat.

The nest itself is so pretty that it almost brings tears to your eyes. There are pieces of you and the pack everywhere. Jin has thoughtfully lined some of your stuffed animals against the wall and Noodle's cat bed is tucked into a corner. Your big blue blanket- your favorite blanket- has been fluffed and kneaded in the center. The twin to it- Jin’s favorite- a thinner duvet that's yellow and rough and holey matches on the other side like two crescent moons.

Jungkook’s whole collection of throw pillows is scattered about- the ones with funny shapes and the velvet fur and fine silk fabrics. They build up the walls and guard the nest from the doorway. But the placement of them is a little off. Not like Jungkook hadn’t been caring where he put them, but like he’d been distracted. You can fix it later.

Blankets ring a wide center in heaps, dotted with the pack's clothing; your and Hobi’s favorite sweatshirt, Yoongi’s flannel, Tae’s delicate silk dresses (with holes bitten into them by the pack omega’s blunt little teeth). You can’t go more than a step into the room without disturbing it.

You stand in the doorway dizzy. It feels good, gets a weakness to your bones to be back here. In this room back where it all started, the first room that you were ever Jin and Namjoon’s. You remember being so shy and unsure looking across the hall and wondering what it would be like to enter as a lover. You remember wondering if you’d ever feel welcome- if you’d ever be welcome.

Now you don’t have to wonder, you feel the rightness in your bones when you look at it.

Your blood sings, your heart beats quick. Instincts screaming good here safe, pack omega pack omega pack omega.

Jinnie.

Jin looks like he’s not as pleased with how the nest has turned out; quite the opposite. If you had to choose a word to describe the pack omega you’d choose scruffy.

He looks like Noodle after a bath and a blow-dry. None of his carefully curated edges are intact. He’s underneath the windows on his knees. A bit of stubble on his chin, his cheeks and under eyes puffy. A determined look in his eyes as he sets about fluffing one of the duvets. Curling it, winding it with another to make a structurally supportive border, delicate. His hair half pushed up by the back like he’s been rolling around in the nest to make sure it's properly scented.

Jungkook’s hand settles on the back of your neck, and Yoongi’s fingers brush your palm. Jimin and Tae watch from a distance, they know not to come any closer- after already having had their heads bit off for even daring to pass by and double-check that Jin’s okay, that he’s gotten everything he needs.

Namjoon's eyes are honey pools as he watches Jin, a soft growl building in his throat. Pretty pack omega, mine, my lovely little Jinnie. Namjoon's blood sings with the urge to protect, the need to provide and keep safe.

After substantially ordering the lot of them around and nibbling them until the hunger in his chest quieted. Jin had promptly banned them the alpha's from the nest until you had a chance to alter it.

But Jin didn’t need to worry. It’s perfect. You don’t want to change a single thing.

(Well- logically- Noodle's nest should be by the door so that he can escape when he needs to. You don’t think you should allow him to use it while the heat actually going on...but it would be nice if he wanted to cuddle in pre-heat).

For all of his fussing, Jin doesn’t immediately notice that you’re in the doorway waiting for him. Waiting for permission to enter his nest like a good pup. Teetering, swaying with the pack omega’s movements, eyes following his hands. A needy and petulant chirp building behind your lips that's hard to restrain.

Then all at once, a lump near the window moves- you’d thought it was just another pile of blankets but it’s Hobi. His hair pushed up and ruffled at the back like he’s been scented to hell and back. He looks a little chewed up, a little bitten, wearing a ring of hickeys around his throat that looks suspiciously like a collar. A big tank top that you’ve never seen him in shrouding his slender body.

He makes eye contact with you and your legs go wobbly again.

“Hyung.”

Jin’s head whips around, eyes narrowing the second he sees you. Lifting his lip in a greedy snarl that sounds suspiciously like “my pup.” and then he hisses, not at you but at the alphas behind you, lingering too close.

Jin lunges- pulling you swiftly into the nest, pulling you to his chest where his heart beats- rabbit frantic against your cheek.

You heave a sigh of relief.

“Nest thief, Pup thief, back-”

Namjoon lifts his hands, backing away. Jimin too, his non-proverbial tail tucked between his legs. Tae does her best not to let the rejection show on her face.

“Sorry Jinnie.”

“Sorry, love you, won’t come in again”

"Call us if you need anything!" They slink away down the hall as Yoongi gently lowers himself onto the edge of the nest and lets you shuffle forward, stifling his laughter. Jungkook flops down, pulling a pillow to his chest and sitting criss cross.

"You tell em babe." Jin's hiss peters off. nosing through your hairline eagerly. Sitting in his lap sideways as Jin clutches you to his chest. “Nest thief?” You parrot, a little dazedly, a little quiet as Jungkook starts to pull at your sweater. Pouting at it.

“This is too scratchy for the nest.”

Jin noses along your shoulder, big and imposing and all right there. he recoils when he tries to rub his cheek along your shoulder. The scratchy texture that assaults his senses. Agreeing with Jungkook's assessment that your sweater is too scratchy. biting and nipping at the collar before he pulls back.

"What is this?" he hisses, grabbing the sleeves of it. Yanking at the fine wool and pulling the stitches loose.

"Joonie's. I was cold."

Jin shrivels his nose. "Alpha knows nothing about nesting."

"You know nothing John Snow." Hobi parrots and Jungkook rewards his shameless meme reference with a pillow to the face and a grin. You hardly notice them roughhousing, careful as they are not to disturb the nest too much.

Your pack omega looms over you, puppetting you until you're spread out. Ignoring your weak whines to stay close. jin's hands and gaze go hungry as he noses along the side of your neck to the hollow of your throat. down. check- he needs to check and make sure that no one got to you- that the icky icky nest thief did no damage. (You have a feeling Jin's also checking to make sure that he left you un-bred.)

Your pack omega is so much stronger than you- a few bratty wiggles do nothing to stop him as he examines you, lifting each of your extremities up to nuzzle and inspect and scent. giving particular attention to your stomach. Yoongi shuffles over, laying a hand flat there.

"Good tummy?" you ask, shy and small. An omega's tummy is always particularly sensitive even outside of a heat. Your shyness now has nothing to do with your body and the state of it. Nothing to do with your weight but everything to do with the fact that Jin and Yoongi are touching the place that the alpha's will breed later. Cradling and being delicate with your hips and stomach. Soft and vulnerable. strumming his fingers over the fine hairs reverently.

You wouldn't let any of the alpha's outside touch you there, you might not even let jk touch. Only your mate and pack omega are allowed, are safe enough.

Yoongi ducks low to peck your nose. you wiggle happily at the sensory pleasure of it, hiding your face in your hands because your emotions are too much. You're too happy, the way yoongi's looking at you makes you feel too much love- your chest might burst with it.

"Best tummy" he corrects you.

Jin continues his check of you, touching everywhere he can get too. stripping off your socks and tossing them into the hallway. Fingers running over everything. Your hips your sides your stomach. You wait with baited breath for him to notice and when he gets to your hand and nuzzles into the gauze- his eyes shoot open and He snarls.

Distantly down the hall, you hear, "That wasn't us!"

Jin nuzzles into the bandage on your hand, lip lifting at the smell of blood, upset, near sick with worry as he pulls back to look at you. eyes starting to swim with tears. "Hurt- pup hurt."

You quiet Jin's tears with a nuzzle into the side of his wrist. The urge to bite down, to mark him, is almost overpowering. "Alpha made it better, alpha almost let me bite him." You're sort of giddy with it.

Jin grumbles. Cheek rubbing against your hand, aching dully just like the quiet pitter patter of your heart.

"Nest thief, icky alpha," Jin hisses.

"Icky." You agree.

"Hurt?" Jin asks, laconic and speaking through one-word phrases, but the sight of you in pain has Jin coming back to himself just a little.

"No worse than my cramps." You squirm, and Jinnie holds you closer. hands loop around your waist, hovering on your stomach in a different way. Protecting where you're sensitive with the wide splay of his palms. But there's nothing he or any of them can do.

"How's yours?"

Jin sighs and rubs his cheek along the top of your head. Flopping over and curling around you. done with his inspection of you for now. "Coming and going. Not bad."

Yoongi huffs, combing a hand through your hair then Jin's, Both of your bodies are boneless temporarily, relaxing- with no intention of moving or fluffing the nest.

Yoongi pecks your head and then Jins and then starts to get up. "I'll get the heating pad" he depresses the nest under his feet. And no- that's not right.

Yoongi is so special and soft and yours. He can't leave the nest now, not when you've just gotten here. One of the alphas can go get it, you don't want him to leave the nest. You perk up, pulling yourself onto your knees- even that level of movement makes you dizzy.

You don't know why, but the thought of Yoongi leaving the nest is terrifying. Makes you so scared you feel like crying. Adrenaline pumping until you're scrambling for him, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it until he stop. Swiping and grabbing at Yoongi's sweatshirt. Pulling at the hem of it.

He looks back, looks down at you, eyes a little wide. lips parted, as your eyes slowly go glassy. Filling with tears.

Behind you, Hobi stifles his laughter. Jin just looks down at you, so much fondness in his gaze that it's hard to look at without feeling like Yoongi's intruding. Yoongi is not intruding. Yoongi could never intrude. You stare up at him and whine until he sits back down.

Yoongi still has blood on the side of his face, your blood. A faint splatter of it over his jaw where you'd cupped his face. Jin purrs and pulls the beta down to his level before he licks it off his cheek.

You blush, and Jungkook cringes. "Gross hyung."

"Can't- don't-" words are so hard for you to say in this state. All of the aggression from before melted away, and now you are gentle and small. You need Yoongi. You need Yoongi right next to you or else something terrible will happen- you're sure of it. You press your face into his throat and his hands come back up to hold you. Suddenly the urge to bite is there, but you don't, just nuzzle and crowd him.

He lets you, holding you when you get a bit too aggressive in your scent marking, and threaten to make both of you topple over. eyes wide with surprise.

You hum, satisfied, a purr starting up in your chest that has the air turning sweet where it had been tense. Pressing your face into his chest, body boneless and gravity doing its work as you search his body the same way Jin examined yours.

You find it the mating mark, nosing under the fabric until Yoongi tenderly cups the back of your head and pulls his shirt up. "There- better?" You purr and rub it up against your cheek. Sprawling in the nest. Your hair gets all messy as you push and push and push your face into his mating mark.

Yoongi smells so good there. The best. Sweet sweet sweet chocolate. you nibble a little at the puckered skin and are rewarded with a noise- half moan and half sigh. yoongi's thighs splay wide giving you access. He tucks your hair behind your ear and above your head, Hobi and he share a long special look.

You pull at his waistband and Jin stops your hand. "No pup, not yet."

"But- but-" your protests fall on deaf ears. Jin is so strong, picks up your hips and lies you flat. Hands continue their checking moving south regardless of your shuddery squeeks.

He tries to get between your legs, and Jungkook stops him. Jin goes at him teeth snapping. Jungkook just grins. "Cute hyung but no- you told me not to let you do that."

You kick your feet a little, but Hobi reaches over to grab your ankle. "Why? why can't we?"

Jungkook detangles you from Yoongi, from Jin, gentle and slow so that your instincts aren't triggered. directing your face up to where the air is clearer and guiding you to breathe until your mind clears a little.

Jungkook strokes over your throat, looking down at you. "Any sexual attention at all from any of us will make your heat come quicker. For the record I'm all for it- but the rest of the pack want your heat to be gentle."

The fact that they'd had a plan that you hadn't been apart of, makes you feel warm all over. And it has nothing to do with your heat. These things are just too big for you to grasp. So vulnerable and too pupish to make your own decisions. You don't even protest at what Jungkook says or try to deny it. you don't lie and say that you can decided for yourself how you want your heat to come.

This is why you have a pack, why you're at the bottom of the hierarchy. Why would you ever even need to make decsions for yourself? They know best.

A tightness in Yoongi's chest eases, just a little. Watching you and Jin and Jungkook interact with each other. You tense up, and your cramps, are suddenly there. Fingers leaving Yoongi in favor of cradling your stomach and whimpering. curling up quick.

Jin growls and tries to pry your hand away from your stomach. but Yoongi sets a hand on your back as you curl up. "Breathe deep for me sweetheart, breathe. You're doing so well." But there is nothing any of them can do but hold you through them.

Jungkook does not hop up, or hold you, just rolls until he's by the door, sticking his head out to shout down the hall, Jimin's head pops from around the corner almost immediately followed by Tae's. Both of them look pink-cheeked and red-lipped. (Jungkook knows how they are, how the scent of omega's in pre-heat riles them up.)

"Heating pad? For pup?" His eyelids flutter, and Tae watches him as Jimin jumps up, almost slipping into his socks on the polished wood floor.

"On it."

Tae watches Jungkook intently before he slips back into the nest.

the cramp stops and you relax, uncurling yourself. Jin's thumbs rub over your belly, and you nuzzle into him. He lets you nuzzle into his stomach too. He's so soft here- so soft and plush and cozy, it's honestly unfair. You have to concentrate really hard to speak, alternating from pushing your face into Jinnie's tummy and Yoongi's hip. You don't really know why other than that you need to.

"Are you? Close yet?"

Jin leans low to rub his chin over the crown of your head. His body isn't tight with cramps. Not like yours is. "No, but soon."

His eyes are wide and glassy, licking his lower lip. But Jin seems to come back to himself a little in the face of you in discomfort, the idea of his littlest pup in pain. “Do you want a fresh change of clothes? Some snacks? Yoongi brought some- so helpful.”

Behind you Yoongi blushes and Jungkook pinches his cheeks, your mate tries to swat his hands away. “Yah-”

It seems you're not the only one keen for a fight, between the two of them- Hobi and Yoongi get Jungkook just like you and Jin, sprawled in the nest and purring at a nip to his throat. You and Jin pay them no mind. their rough housing.

“Do you want some water, to eat? To sleep to-

You stop him, leaning over, pushing your face into his thighs, flopping over, cutting off his rabid train of thought. Resting your head on his lap. “Just want this, just need this.” You peek up at Jin, at his stricken expression. "Please?"

Your body is so tired you don't know if you could move if you wanted to. Finally- finally you're not too cold or too hot, just perfect, just right. Just fine right here. Jin threads his hand through your hair, hard, urging you towards his stomach.

He’s so soft and vulnerable there. You need to protect his tummy- make sure no one gets close to it who isn't perfect. The scent of Jin's slick is so distant to the urgency of protect pack Omega needs to protect that you don't even notice it as he sighs and cups the back of your head.

Hobi reaches over, to touch your head too but you growl. It's a squeaky sound, not at all as threatening as you mean for it.

His hand retracts quickly- you whine, petulant. “No- sorry I’m just-”

“Possessive” Jungkook says, touching your hips, your thighs, checking your temperature there, finding the skin hot and puffy. You sprawl out parting your tights for him to touch. Yoongi smiles, trying to hide it but failing.

“Yes.”

Jinnie Is mine. You want to say, want to say- but can’t do more than whine and growl and chirp. You're all mine, none of the alphas can have you- none of them. All mine. My nest. Omega made it for me so it's mine.

Jin’s hands run through your hair after a moment, combing through it and twisting it to keep it out of the way. Until all he’s teasing at are the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. Pulling at them softly like a lifeline drawing you out of your instincts. You keep eye contact with him, lucidity growing in each of you the longer you spend in each other's presence.

Jin and Yoongi make everything feel alright, makes everything not feel scary.

When you look back up at him Jin looks more lucid, more aware of what he's doing and who he's doing it with. A crinkle between his eyebrows that will make fine lines in a year or two.

You nudge against his palm; you don't have to ask more than that to get him to tell you what he's thinking

“I kinda thought that you might want a heat without all of us- just you and Yoongi- or at least one where we could take care of you.”

Jin’s cheek is chubby where his lips pout, you love it. It looks like a crescent moon. You want to bite it, his cheek, and feel the give of your pack omega under your teeth. Yoongi answers for you.

"No, of course not- you guys are-"

You curl up, your knees nudging Yoongi's back, dragging him closer to where you and Jin are cuddled.

“I’m not going to be able to take care of you quite as well as I hoped. Your first heat won’t go like how I wanted it.” Jin’s voice sounds so sad, almost broken.

You and Yoongi immediately fold yourself close. You tangle your injured hand with Jin's gently. Yoongi leans in, pressing a kiss to Jin’s spine and the pack omega sighs at the sensitivity and soreness.

“It’s okay, you can’t control it and-” and it’s nearly better this way. You’re honestly so tired that you couldn’t even start to nest, and even if you could- you doubt that you’d be able to make a nest as lovely as this one. You say that- say it.

And Hobi fluffs up, keeping his distance after you growl at him. But he's there at the edge of the nest. Your eyes narrow. “I told him to put up Christmas lights just in case.”

"Can I bite you?" Hobi raises an eyebrow at you. But you see the telltale way his cheeks pink up. "I need to bite Jinnie first, and then Yoongi, but after-"

A giggle shocks from your packmates but Jin just huffs at you, eyes melting away from frustration and into endearment. His scent is sweet and cloying milk.

"You mean you don't want me to leave?" Hobi asks slowly, carefully while Jin's fingers rub at your waist, under the waistband of your pants Apparently dissatisfied with them. Starting to tug them off until you're in nothing but your underwear. Jungkook takes them and tucks them into the outer layer of the nest.

"No? Why would I want that?"

Jin doesn't let you and Hobi hash it out yet, preoccupied with the idea of being marked and bitten.

He tugs you up and closer. Ushering you close to his neck and scent gland, puffy and inflamed just under his jaw. Face to face with it again you cannot make your mouth reply to Hobi's question, mouth-watering.

You nose at his throat for a second but then Jin's hands are pulling you closer and your mouth parts against his skin. You suck and suck and suck, Jinnies scent gland is so squishy beneath your teeth. The skin is sweet.

You lose yourself a little. Going needy and clingy, hand tangling with the front of his shirt. You feel his sigh, his relief at having you close. The give under your teeth that states an unfurling hunger in your chest, the kind of hunger that's starting to burn.

"My little omega," he croons, running a hand over the back of your head while you suck to your heart's content. Your heart rate slows a little. Thudding loud in your ears. A finger nudges your cheek and you growl. Jungkook just laughs at you.

By the time you pull back, you're dazed and every breath is Jinnie Jinnie Jinnie. Jin's throat has several small marks on it, little and pink. The pack omega smells so good, so soft and good. love Jinnie so much, just wanna stay next to Jinnie in the nest forever, and never wanna leave. Best nest, perfect nest for pups-

"Pups? You're pups." Jin pouts, cheeks pink, and you grip his shirt. The others are there and you'll mark them soon but you need to be done with the pack omega first. Need to mark him first before any of the alpha's so that they know he's yours, before he's theirs. Can't steal the pack omega away from you- you need him too much.

"Nest thief" Jin hisses, sitting up quick, and jostles you. Sending you out of your omegaspace because of the way you almost fall. Almost fall except for the way that Jin curls over the top of you and hisses in the direction of the doorway. And you sense a movement by the door, letting out a growl and wheeling, turning.

"I'm just dropping off some water." Namjoon says, retreating with open palms. the heating pad sits rolled up at the edge of the nest too. "Love you guys, goodnight."

"Nest thief?" You ask again. Still a little dazed. Still very out of it.

“Jin’s been calling Namjoon that. He’s angry that he stole you.” Hobi says, voice rough in the nighttime quiet. A laugh hovering on the edge of his words.

Any reply you could possibly muscle is quieted by Jin’s needy trill- the pack omega displeased that your attention is not on him, not focused on him. He pulls your sweater up and over your head to replace the scratchy sweater with a shirt. Formerly folded into the edge of the nest that smells strongly of Jungkook.

You hold your chest wearing no bra, just in your underwear, hiding from their gazes just a little. Although the pack knows your body better than you do- being nude still feels a little sensitive a little too much.

Yoongi wordlessly sets a hand on your thigh. Rubbing up and down your skin, soothing away your goosebumps with his warm palm.

You grimace at what Jin offers you.

“Jinnie- I love you, but I’m not putting on Jungkook’s used workout shirt."

Jin blinks down at what’s in his hands, lower lip wobbling. “but- but-”

Jungkook’s and Hobi’s chests are shaking with quiet laughter, and Yoongi smiles as he hunts through a nearby basket before peeling his own shirt off and tugging it over your head. "hands up" he says, and you obey him. kissing him on the way out, yoongi tugs your hair out of the collar, twisting it away from your face but not tying it up to sleep. The long fabric pools around your thighs. “There- is that better?”

Jin just looks up at Yoongi and purrs. Rubbing his face into your back. "best."

Jin tugs and you fall into a heap onto the nest. Pulled against his front. Jinnie is- Jinnie is so warm, the whole house and the ride over you’d felt so cold, and now- now you feel so warm. Jinnie’s body feels like sunshine pressed up against you.

You breathe in deep expecting everything to smell happy, but you freeze; Hobi smells sour.

You didn't realize it because he was covered, burritoed in, but as he pulls himself out from under the blanket to get a glass of water, it sends his sourness everywhere. Before anyone can stop you, you shuffle and flop over top of him. You whine, burying your face in his stomach. Keening high. Displeased.

Hobi almost spills the glass of water all over you but doesn't by virtue of Yoongi's steadying hand. “Jeeze, don’t get all teary-eyed on us.” You breathe in and out, blinking away your tears, Hobi’s hand rubs through your hair trying to soothe you. Yoongi takes the glass from him.

“Not crying cuz I’m upset, just-” You let out a frustrated noise.

Hobi’s eyes are dark with understanding. “I can get up and leave if you want I know that I’m not-“ an omega, goes unspoken, but your arms just tighten further around his waist.

You remember everything he’s ever said about his last pack- Moonbyul’s pack (you remind yourself as you have had too many times over the last few months.) How they’d never let him stay in their nests through their heats.

Unless they need to use him.

You have a lump in your throat thinking about that. a lump that feels like anger but can go nowhere but inward. You can’t imagine making him feel that way. Making him feel unwelcome.

The others aren’t allowed in the nest because your skin is too sensitive, too friable, their scents too pungent with wanting too easy to want. but Hobi’s scent is not as intense and not as irritating. Nothing about his caramel scent is yucky- just soft and subdued beyond the sourness there from nerves.

“Why don’t you smell-“ Hobi’s hands tighten on his forearms, and he closes his eyes, cringing as he waits for it. “bad like the others do? You don't smell awful like Namjoon?”

Jungkook huffs a giggle, but he's the only one. there is laughter coming fromt he hallway. Yoongi sighs, making eye contact with Hobi before he answers. Hobi bites his lip, looks like he’s about to cry, shuts his eyes shut tight tight so that he doesn’t have to watch your expression. You, the person he trusts more than any to understand this, to understand him.

“Most alpha's bodies react to an omega in heat- becoming stronger so that omega’s can find them once the heat starts and make it come quicker with their hormones. But Hobi’s body doesn’t have the same reaction anymore. Not even before you.”

Since the abuse. You read between the lines. the fact that they'd hurt him so bad, so bad that his body and his scent changed, that they'd altered him so- feels so unfair, that you can't change it- can't make it better.

You go still, looking back up at him utterly stricken by this information. Hobi holds out his arms. Thin but muscular looking. Strong even if his smile is fragile and tight.

"So Scent away pupcake- I'm not gonna make your heat come quicker."

You pull yourself over to him and rest there. Hobi's arms do not tremble as he hugs you, just briefly until Jin pulls you back to him. So that you're sitting in Jin's lap but holding onto Hobi. It's like they're playing tug of war with their favorite toy.

You like being their toy. You like being the lowest one in the hierarchy because it means you get coddled and controlled and treated like you're precious. You don't let Jin pull you back right away, looping your arms around Hobi's neck. Closing your eyes and thinking hard. Putting all your energy into imagining it.

You think of all your favorite things; Noodle and late-night drives, cuddling with Yoongi in the morning, and helping Tae with her makeup. The feel of Jimin's hand in yours. The way he's always watching, the way he's always checking. The sound of Jungkook's laugh and Joonie's kisses and when Jin asks you to nest with him.

You cuddle up in Hobi's lap and think of only happy things- so that you smell as happy as you can- just so that he knows.

Hobi's breath is coming shaky and when you look up Yoongi's holding his face. Yoongi's thumb wipes away the wetness on his cheek and You rub your face into his throat the same way you did with Jin. Hobi smells soggy-sad-happy, like he's sad but it's healing.

It's late and everyone is tired, but certain things take precedence over sleep. You nudge his nose with yours, "Can I bite you?"

A laugh shocks out of his chest, a little relieved sounding. "What is it with you and biting?"

"You're very…" Your eyes flicker down his form, making him blush "Biteable."

Hobi tilts his throat, happy you can't feel his heartbeat, can't hear it going quick. "Go for it."

You tug at the collar of Hobi's tank top. You don't mark his throat next to Jinnie's marks. You leave your mark for the space just over his heart, small, you don't want him to feel the ache. You don't want any of this to hurt him.

Your teeth dig and hobi sighs, hand coming up to cradle your head. "You can take what you need- you can-" (Hobi tells himself that anyone alpha or not- would have the same reaction in their body at having a hickey sucked here, tells himself that the half chub in his sleep shorts isn't permission or a confession. Even if Hobi wants those things- wants this with you. His brain is all tangled, memories and wants and fears a dizzying combination that stops him from acting confidently)

When you pull back, you press your forehead to Hobi's. You know you won't be lucid for much longer. That if you go to sleep, you'll probably wake up in omegaspace and that will be it. But there are things you need to say to Hobi.

This is all still so new to him. All of this, the sex and the marking and the scenting. You haven't had sex with him enough, haven't learned him enough for this.

"I'm not going to be hurt, if you only want to help Jinnie okay? If you're not ready then I'm not ready."

Hobi swallows hard, eyes glassy nodding. He can't say anything, can't open his mouth without crying so he doesn't. Can't do more but tangle his hand with yours and squeeze.

Jin pets through Hobi's short hair, purring deep and rumbly.

“See alpha- pup wants you- told you she would, told you she wasn't gonna want you to leave the nest” Jin croons, petting more and more as you bury your face in Hobi’s throat. You luxuriate in the feeling of having them close and heave the first easy breaths you have all day as Jin settles in close behind you.

Lying both of you down in the center of the nest. Pressing his face to your vertebra crowding you up against Hobi and promptly going to sleep.

Yoongi gets up and shuts the door and the light, saying something softly to someone in the hallway. Hobi falls asleep soon after Jin. Breath evening out and eyes fluttering closed. His hand is slackening where it's tangled with yours.

You’re a little harder to settle, you toss and turn, trying to get comfortable. Jin and Hobi quickly nod off but you can’t.

You stay like that- warm in between the two of them until another cramp hits you. You hiss, hands settling over your abdomen hard. You still- tremble through the pain, and dimly- you’re aware of Yoongi rubbing up and down your back.

“Do you need-” Your hand settles over his squeezing hard- not too hard, as you breathe heavily.

Once you stop trembling, Jungkook detangles you from Jin, the pack omegas fist tangled in your shirt to keep you close. “Come here.” he guides you to rest against his chest while Yoongi gets the heating pad set up. Clicking it onto the highest setting and putting it under your shirt. "I'm so sorry baby."

You shrug, "There's nothing you can do." Sniffling quietly, "s'not your fault."

“Do you think you can stomach anything?” You shake your head at that nausea rippling through you.

"I promise i'll eat more in the morning but my cramps- they’re too-” It feels like you’re carrying a rock in your belly, something heavy that you can’t put down, can’t do away with. Your organs tighten around that weight. A heaviness without name that comes with only pain and no satisfaction.

(Is this what reproducing is? Do you feel the weight of the lives you could carry before they come? Would this hurt less if you'd be a different sort of mother Or can the world feel how unequipped you are and how selfish you'd and is punishing you for it. You’re old enough to have a pup and yet- you feel so small, so unprepared, so childlike.)

Jungkook sets his hands on your stomach.

You open your eyes and look up at him. his dark hair that settles over his forehead like inky strands of night. Jungkook looks at you and you know that he knows. That he understands.

(Being able to have kids is more of an open wound that an advantage, you wish alphas knew that. It’s all a big question; to stem the wound or keep bleeding, to not bleed at all and count the lack of blood as payment. To tell yourself, I don’t want to be a mother anyway).

(But I wouldn’t mind having a family.)

(you've already got one, and they're all around you)

Jungkook settles you back against his chest, and the warmth of his body pressed behind you instantly makes you feel better. Jungkook readjusts the heating pad, removing it from your front and placing it instead on your back, between your ass and his lap. The relief of it is instant. It doesn’t get rid of all the pain but heat is what you need.

You sigh against him, relaxing against his chest while your mate rubs at your hips, watching you, looking down at you. Then Jungkook’s fingers dig into your abdomen- digging in on either side of your hips and you almost keen at how good it feels.

You know he has experience, that he's learned from pt and the other personal trainers at his gym how to massage- how to get rid of aches and pains. you just didn't know heat cramps where one of the things he could help with.

The relief is sort of instant as he starts massaging up and down your stomach and sides. He keeps the pressure even and firm and it’s like he’s holding the weight between your hips.

You feel his breath against your ear, and he closes his mouth around your lobe sucking on it just a little. You're distracted by the way he holds you, holds all the pain, and tells you with his body that it's okay and you go boneless.

but Jungkook sucks his own mark into your throat, sucking at your scent gland until you go sweet and pliant.

He moves his fingers, going up and down either side of your stomach, digging close and low to your mound but it's not sexual. Not yet. Every moment of it eases away the ache.

Jungkook’s blunt omega teeth dig into the nape of your neck. His voice husky when he tells you to sleep. He’s so warm behind you.

Very very very warm.

You should bite him too, before the others have a chance to. The same way you did with Jinnie. You have to let the alpha's know that Jungkook is yours.

Before he gets any warmer.

That will have to wait until morning, Your body listens to his command. In the quiet darkness, Yoongi watches you and Jungkook, worry bleeding down his back. “Can you show me how to do that Koo? The cramp massage?"

Jungkook laughs, all fond, but lets the nighttime settle.

~-~

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Notes:

i think yoongi and his fears, touches on a little thing that all of us feel at one point or another- that we have no idea what the fuck we're doing with our lives. yoongi is a character to often rails against his own mythos- there is danger in being revered by the people you love. and i think in this moment- yoongi is worrying about living up to those expectations.

i played with the idea of making yoongi spank the m/c for her stunt with the car but honestly- i don't think he would ever willingly engage with physical punishment for her. i don't think he could physically raise a hand against her- i think his trauma would stop him big time.

this is another chapter where it felt like "bily is a story, less of a fanfiction" like this is a process and i'm bringing you all through it. it's less about getting to the end and more about enjoying the ride.

i wish i could accurately articulate the utter love and frustration in namjoon's heart when she's giving him the runaround- my boy is /stressed/ out about her in such a lovely way.

i did not originally intend for her to go so feral but...here we are.

honestly the way i wrote the part with jin nesting with the m/c was so hard to edit, i feel like it does not make a ton of sense what's happening but they're both in omega space so- it's not necessarily supposed to make sense.

the ending scenes where also hard to keep track of like- most of the time I love the way that the series shifts perspective from person to person- and it's one of the things I really think makes my writing unique- but dang even i got confused when i was editing asking myself "whose thinking and feeling this right now?" oh well- it's too late too change too much of it.

honestly when they're all in the nest- i really wanted it to feel like they where almost fucking- like- its so intimate even though no one is actually pleasuring each other it's like...sex without the sex almost.

the lines where the m/c is talking about reproducing...i'm working through some shit is all i'm saying. working through my own wants and figuring out if i even want to have kids, my cousin is really struggling right now and found out that she's infertile and it feels so like- yucky that i can have kids (probably i've never missed a period) but she can't and wants to when i can and don't want too. but also at the same time my family is falling apart at the moment so- i've got a lot of emotions and bily is how i catharsize them!

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wttcsms · 2 months ago

Text

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?”

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan.

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.)

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle.

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies.

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager.

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still.

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup.

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?”

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked.

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too.

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people” all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out.

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy.

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this.

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question.

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?”

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.”

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa.

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?”

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place.

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa.

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive.

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.”

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?”

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.”

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?”

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!”

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.”

“Did you need a ride?”

Shitty luck, indeed.

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically.

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.”

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi.

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him.

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle?

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him.

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road.

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is.

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi.

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt.

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…”

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise.

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you.

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.”

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though.

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door.

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

#yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #series: if you feel like falling #fluff

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