#lots of medical discussions in this chapter

[science-hoes]

Juno

Jack Abbot x Reader

Description: Jack and the reader spend a day in the park with Robby and his family, leading to some heartfelt confessions. Once they both return to Jack’s house, they take the next step in their relationship (and maybe jumping a few steps in the process). Standalone fic or Chapter Four of You Are In Love.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, canon typical medical descriptions, discussion about Jack’s dead wife, taking care of Jack’s leg after a long day, reader is a Sabrina Carpenter fan, Jack is an Old Man, Jack and Robby are never beating the soulmates allegations, as always technically a Robby x reader fic because his wife is intentionally left unnamed so you can have the best of both worlds, beware of typos, this is about 9.5k words 🥹

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four

Jack Abbot Masterlist

—

Robby shoved his wallet and keys into the pocket of his shorts while he balanced baby Abbot on one of his arms. He chuckled when he looked down at Eliza, who had expertly dressed herself in a dress and fairy wings. “You’ll have to take your wings off to get in the car seat, okay?”

Eliza jumped around her father, moving towards the front door, ever a beacon of energy. “Okayyy.” She agreed in a sing-songy voice.

Robby’s wife met them at the door to the garage, diaper bag slung over her shoulder. “I think we’re good to go.” She announced, tickling baby Abbot’s socked foot, drawing a giggle from the baby.

Robby turned back towards the hallway. “Alright, let me just grab my sunglasses and-“ He was cut off by a ceremoniously loud hiccup followed by a stream of spit-up leaking down his arm from his son. “Ah, fuck.” He mumbled.

“Robby.” His wife scolded quietly, looking at Eliza.

Robby reached into the diaper bag on her back and fished out a burping cloth to clean off his arm. “She didn’t hear me.” He quickly defended, thankful that his daughter didn’t seem to clock his profanity.

His wife just shook her head but smiled anyway. “Are they gonna meet us at the park?” She asked.

Robby wiped off baby Abbot’s chin before tossing the dirtied cloth into the hamper. “Yep. Jack just texted, said they’re on their way.” He confirmed.

His wife nodded and started going through her mental checklist. “Alright, I’ve got Abbot’s diaper bag, picnic blanket, sunscreen, band-aids, extra clothes for both of them…”

Robby chuckled and wrapped his arm around her to soothe her rambling. “Honey, we’re just going to the park.” He reminded.

His wife smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You underestimate our kids.” She warned, opening the door to the garage, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Robby leaned down halfway to accept the kiss before he pulled the door all the way open, letting his girls walk out before him. “Alright, Robinavitches. Let’s roll.”

Eliza followed her mom out the door, but she underestimated the span of her fairy wings. One of the wings got caught in the doorway, jerking the child back, destroying her momentum. “Fuck!” Her little voice echoed in the garage, and Robby immediately winced.

“Michael!”

——

Jack had draped one hand over the steering wheel as he drove and the other on your lower thigh, elbow resting on the center console. You sipped happily on your iced coffee that he had handed to you with a kiss when you got into his truck.

“I don’t hate it.” He mused, looking to the screen displaying the current song selection you had queued up.

“Nobody hates Sabrina Carpenter.” You replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I just don’t get who Juno is. Is it supposed to be a character in the song?” His brow was wrinkled with concentration as he turned into the parking lot of the park.

You raised an eyebrow. “You never saw the movie?” You asked.

“Uh uh.” He mumbled, maneuvering the wheel to ease into a parking spot.

“It’s a movie about a high school girl who gets pregnant. It’s a coming-of-age movie.” You educated him before taking the last sip of your iced coffee.

Jack put the car in park and looked at you with a bewildered face. “What? That’s what this song is about?” He questioned.

You shrugged, smiling at his astonishment. “Yeah, she wants the guy to fuck a baby in her.”

His face reddened far more than he would have liked, but it was adorable to you. “They play this song on the radio?” He stammered, and when you nodded, he just shook his head as he turned off the truck. “That’s a very sexual song.”

You giggled and hopped out of the truck, your feet crunching on the gravel of the lot. “Okay, grandpa. Is it time for your nap?” You teased, meeting him on the driver's side of the truck.

Jack couldn’t help but smile at you as you approached him, and he tugged gently at the skirt of your sundress, admiring the fabric. “You know, one day, you’re gonna pay for all these ‘grandpa’ and ‘old man’ jokes.” He warned, eyes crinkled from the bright sunshine.

You pressed your hands on his broad chest covered by a lavender polo, closing the distance between your bodies, admiring the way the sunlight enhanced the hazel of his eyes. “Is that a threat, Lieutenant Colonel?”

He chuckled and tilted his head down, nose brushing against yours. “S’not a threat.” He whispered and gently captured your lips with his. “It’s a promise.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and then it was your turn to blush. For a moment, you thought he might throw you back in his truck and take you home. Before you could regain your wits, a little voice called out from the grass field of the park.

“Uncle Jack!”

You both turned to look out to the park, and there was Eliza, in a pink dress and fairy wings hanging from her back, running as fast as her legs could go. Behind her was her family, sprawled out on a picnic blanket.

Jack placed a hand on your lower back to lead you to the park, and he knelt down to catch the little girl in his arms as she threw her arms around his neck. “Hey, princess.” He greeted, kissing her on the cheek.

Eliza giggled as he rose to his feet, hoisting her onto his shoulders. You tapped her knee as you walked towards the picnic blanket. “I love your wings.” You complimented.

She rested her head on the top of Jack’s, her face squished against his silvered curls. “Thank you.” She responded bashfully.

Jack kept a firm grasp on one of Eliza’s ankles so he could hold your hand, swinging your arms just slightly as you approached her family. Robby laid on his back, his head resting in his wife’s lap, as baby Abbot crawled across his upper body.

You knelt on the blanket across from them, your sundress billowing out. Jack hung Eliza by her feet, the little girl screaming and giggling as she squirmed, before laying her gently on the blanket.

“How much of your soul did you sell to get us all off on the same day?” Jack nudged Robby’s knee with his foot.

Robby balanced baby Abbot as he sat upright on his chest. “Only a third of it.” He answered earnestly. “Dana has been blowing up my phone all day complaining about the interns.”

Jack carefully began to kneel down, and you stabilized one of his arms with your own until he was settled next to you. He kissed your temple gently in gratitude before saying, “Those interns make me want to drink before I show up to work.”

You turned to give him an offended look. “Hey, I’m one of those interns.” You complained.

Robby’s wife shook her head. “You’re not one of those interns. You have survival instincts.” She corrected.

Robby lifted baby Abbot off his chest to let him crawl around on the blanket. “It’s true. In fact, you’ve improved other people’s survival instincts.” He noted before pointing at Jack. “Especially his.”

You thought Jack was going to respond with snark, but he just nodded. “Haven’t been on the roof in months.” He agreed.

Baby Abbot began to crawl towards you, moving slowly but surely. You reached your arms out to him, making grabby hands at the baby. “Glad I can be of service.” You deadpanned, but grinned when baby Abbot grabbed your legs, pulling at them. “He looks like he’s ready to stand.”

Robby’s wife sighed nostalgically. “He’s getting there.” She said, a frown on her face. “I wish he’d stay little forever.”

You scooped the baby in your arms, cradling him close. Jack leaned slightly over your shoulder to peer down at his nephew, contentedly snuggled into your chest. “Abbots don’t stay little. They grow big and strong.” He stated proudly, squeezing one of the baby’s chunky thighs.

Robby scoffed and sat up to stretch. “You’re literally five foot nine. Baby Abbot is gonna grow big and strong thanks to me.” He argued.

Jack sat up straighter, brow furrowed. “Thanks to you?” He genuinely laughed. “You have the same body shape as one of those floppy air people outside of car dealerships.”

“Yeah, at least I can reach the top shelf in the supply closet.”

“But you needed help unscrewing that oxygen tank last week?”

“Hey, do you wanna race to that sign over there? I’ll even give you a five-second head start.”

Robby’s wife audibly groaned and dropped her head back. “I can’t do this again.” She mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, bouncing baby Abbot in your arms. “Have they always been like this?” You asked.

She nodded solemnly as Robby laid back again, head in her lap, staring up at the sky. “Dana has told me stories of their first years as attendings. Honestly, I don’t know how she’s done it all this time.”

Jack and Robby looked to their respective partners, seemingly offended that anyone could be annoyed by their antics. You leaned in with interest. “Stories?” You repeated.

“Oh, yes.”

You stole a glance at Jack, who suddenly looked uneasy. “Like what?”

Robby’s wife smiled smugly, letting Eliza flop into her embrace after she had thoroughly inspected a ladybug on the picnic blanket. “Their first interns hated them so much that they casted their legs together while they were asleep during a snowstorm.”

You stared blankly at her, trying to figure out what question to ask first. “How?” Was all you could muster. “Were they asleep in the same bed?”

Jack sat up straight, ready to defend his honor, while Robby started reaching up to cover his wife’s mouth, but Eliza snatched at his arm to stop him.

“That’s not nice, Daddy!” She exclaimed through a fit of laughing.

“Mommy is not nice.” He grunted as his wife helped to hold his arm down.

“They say that they were asleep on different stretchers, and the interns put them right next to each other.” His wife began to explain. “But I don’t buy it.”

Jack tilted his head down until his gaze was sharper. “We were asleep on different stretchers.” He insisted.

You giggled and nudged his shoulder with yours. “It’s okay, you can say that you were snuggled up next to your best buddy. It was a snowstorm.” You teased with a smug grin.

Jack shook his head in annoyance, but he couldn’t resist matching your smile. Robby finally sat up, tickling Eliza so she would stop trying to attack him. The little girl squealed and kicked, but she was no match for her father’s strong arms. “Believe what you want.” He finally surrendered. “But when I fell asleep, the room was empty. If Jack came to sleep with me, then that was his scheming, not mine.”

You and his wife giggled, and Jack rolled his eyes so hard that you thought they’d get stuck like that. You looked down at baby Abbot again, who was beginning to drift off to sleep, content in your arms. His eyes blinked slowly, fixed on yours. One of his hands had a tiny fistful of the fabric of your sundress. You traced his soft, chubby cheek in a soothing pattern with your thumb, continuing even after his eyes remained closed. The sight made Jack’s heart skip a beat, and he desperately wished that it was his baby you were holding.

—

After another hour in the sun and Eliza’s insistence, your crew began to walk towards the nearby ice cream parlor. Robby pushed baby Abbot’s stroller on the sidewalk, and his wife held onto his bicep as they walked behind you and Jack. Eliza was perched on your shoulders, legs dangling on your chest. She and Jack were not on speaking terms right now.

“Uncle Jaaaaaack.” She drawled.

Jack crossed his arms dramatically over his chest and cocked his head to the side, away from her. “I can’t hear traitors.” He said to nobody in particular.

You giggled and bumped his arm with your shoulder. “You’re just jealous she wanted me to carry her.” You teased.

He looked down at you with a fake glare, but the glimmer of playfulness in his eyes was undeniable. “She’s forgetting who held her first.” He retorted, looking up to his niece with the same intense stare.

Eliza giggled and rested her head on top of yours, letting her arms hang limp on either side as she rested. You raised an eyebrow, not following his statement. “Held her first?” You repeated.

Jack accidentally let a smile break through as he thought back on the memory. “Yep. I delivered her.” He replied.

Your heart warmed at the thought, and suddenly their connection made more sense. You turned slightly to look back at Robby’s wife. “You had to deliver in the Pitt?” You questioned.

She let out an exasperated breath, clearly unhappy about the thought. “It was a less-than-ideal situation.” She deadpanned.

Eliza nudged one of her feet at Jack’s shoulders. “Uncle Jack was my first best friend!” She exclaimed.

And with that, Jack couldn’t keep pretending to be mad at her. He grabbed the foot that bumped his shoulder and shook it gently. “Best friends forever, yeah?” He said.

She giggled and reached for him, so you carefully transferred her from your shoulders to his arms. “Yeah!” She squealed, snuggling into his embrace, fairy wings nearly blocking his view as the ice cream shop came into view.

After everyone got their ice cream, your group took over a table outside. Eliza dug into her cotton candy ice cream as delicately as a five-year-old could, the pink and blue beginning to stain her mouth. Robby had a praline ice cream cone that his wife kept stealing bites from despite having her chocolate ice cream cone. Jack had opted for butter pecan, while you were more adventurous with a limited flavor called “Espresso,” inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song.

As the sun began to beat down on your ice cream, your tongue contained the melting treat to its cone, licking up any tributary that threatened to spill down the edges. Jack pretended not to notice the way your tongue moved with ease, and he really tried not to imagine the ice cream cone replaced with his-

“Uncle Jack, when are we going swimming at your house?” Eliza’s voice cut through his impure thoughts.

He straightened his already impeccable posture and looked at his niece. “How about next Friday?” He suggested, then looked over to Robby and his wife for approval.

“For your birthday?” Robby asked, surprise laced in his voice. Jack never wanted to celebrate his birthday.

Jack nodded slowly, like he was still trying to convince himself. “Yeah, sure. I think we all have the evening off.” He confirmed.

Eliza took another bite of her ice cream before asking, “What about Nana?”

“Nana can come, too.” He promised.

Robby nodded as he dipped his pinky into his ice cream, then pushed it against baby Abbot’s mouth. The baby boy smiled and kicked his feet with excitement at the taste of the sweet treat. “You like that, buddy?” His father cooed, ready to give him more.

Eliza shoved her ice cream at her baby brother. “Let Abby have some of mine!” She exclaimed.

Robby’s wife smiled and dabbed her finger in the pink and blue swirl. “That’s very sweet of you to share, Eliza.” She praised.

Baby Abbot squealed and kicked his legs again at the taste of more ice cream. His parents laughed, and Eliza scooted closer to him. You smiled as you watched the family, heartstrings pulled by their joy and love for each other.

Instinctively, you looked up to Jack, but he was already looking at you. His eyes glowed with adoration in the light of the early sunset. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face from the gentle breeze. Just when you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you to complete the cinematic moment, he furrowed his brow.

“Um…I think you have a little ice cream right there.” He said, tapping his nose to show where you should clean.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you frantically reached up to your face. “Right where?” You questioned.

Jack bumped your elbow, sending your ice cream cone to smash against your nose, smearing across your skin. “Right there.” He answered with a devilish grin.

After the shock wore off, you broke into a wide smile and began smacking his chest with your free hand. “I fucking hate you.” You hissed, quiet enough that Eliza couldn’t hear, but it was laced with laughter.

Jack tried to defend himself from your attacks, leaning away when you came to press a messy, ice-creamy kiss on his mouth. But he eventually relented, licking the sweetness from your lips as his face became covered with the dessert. “No, you don’t.” He breathed against your mouth.

Eventually, your laughs faded, breathless, and you grabbed a napkin to wipe off your mouth and his. As you do, you take notice of the extra freckles on his face from a day in the sunshine. “Your freckles are darker.” You admired, tracing the constellations on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” He replied, his voice softer than his usual gravel. “Sun brings 'em out.”

Before he could say more, Eliza shrieked with delight as Robby lifted her out of her chair and swung her in wide, dizzying circles. Her fairy wings fluttered with each spin. Jack glanced over, and you felt his posture shift as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His smile remained, but it dulled at the edges, like a ghost passed through it.

“They make it look easy.” You noted, watching Robby hand Eliza off to his wife, who kissed the top of her head with practiced tenderness.

“It’s not.” Jack replied, almost absently. “But they’re good at it.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. His gaze had drifted toward baby Abbot, now asleep in his stroller with melted ice cream dribbling down his chin. Robby crouched beside him, wiping it away with a gentle, aged hand.

“Does it make you want that?” You asked earnestly.

Jack was quiet for a beat too long, and you worried that you may have pushed him too far out of his comfort zone. He drew in a long breath through his nostrils. “Used to think it wasn’t in the cards for me.” He admitted. “Not the way things have been. The job. The chaos. The bullshit. But…” He looked at you now, really looked. With those gorgeous hazel eyes that bore his entire soul. “Then I see you holding Abbot. I see you lighting Eliza up like she’s got stars inside her. And I think… maybe I was wrong.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your chest ached, full and warm and a little unsteady, and tears began to sting your eyes. So instead, you reached out and took his hand under the table, just as Eliza crashed into your side with a burst of laughter, tugging at your arm.

“Come see the rock I found!” She pleaded.

You happily relented, standing to follow the child. “Okay, okay.” You agreed.

Jack watched you go with her, his hand still holding yours, fingertips grazing your skin until you were just out of reach.

And he knew it then.

He didn’t want to let go tonight.

—-

After lots of hugs and promises to see each other next Friday night for the pool party, you and Jack parted ways from Robby and his family. The ride home was similar to the ride to the park. Jack’s hand on your thigh, music of your choice humming through the speakers, and an aura of contentment mixed with the AC of the truck. Now and then, Jack would steal glances of you gazing out the window, eyes fixed on the sinking sun, and smile to himself.

Once you arrived at his house, he led you through the threshold, hand on your lower back. Not like he was inviting you inside, but like he was welcoming you home. After kicking off your sandals and lining them neatly next to the wall, you turned to find him leaning against the closed door, just…looking at you.

“Something on your mind?” You asked, closing the distance between the two of you, resting your hands on his broad chest.

Jack smiled and grasped one of your hands, bringing it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, each one, like it was a holy ritual. “I didn’t want today to end.” He admitted, lips brushing against the dorsum of your hand.

You nodded in agreement, reviewing the new freckles dusted on his nose. “It was a good day.”

His free hand trailed against your back, down to your waist, skimming the fabric of your sundress. “You’re great with them. With my family.” He noted, letting you stretch your hand across his stubbled jaw. “The way you hold Abbot and let him drool all over your dress while he sleeps.” He used his newly freed hand to gently tug at a strand of your hair that framed your face, inspecting the way the wave bounced back when he released. “The way you keep up with Eliza and every silly tangent she goes on.” The hand on your waist began to travel to the side, resting on your hip. “The way you laugh with Robby and talk to his wife like you’ve known her longer than he has.”

You pushed your fingertips backward into his dense curls, scratching gently at his scalp. “It’s really easy. They feel like my family.” You replied.

Jack smiled, warmer than the sun that was slowly turning the living room golden. “They are your family.” He corrected.

“Then what am I?” You whispered, leaning just a little closer until you could feel his breath fighting against yours.

He closed the distance between your faces, brushing his nose against yours, lips just barely touching. “You’re mine.”

This time, the kiss was different, no longer held back by nerves or doubt. It was gentle, but deeper now, like something had clicked into place. He led you to the bedroom in that same slow, reverent way. Every movement felt intentional, like unwrapping something sacred. He helped slide the straps of your sundress off your shoulders, brushing his lips over every new inch of skin revealed to him. You unbuttoned his lavender polo with shaky fingers, anticipation coursing through your veins, and pulled the fabric over his shoulders.

His freckles rivaled the stars in both number and beauty. You seared hot, open-mouth kisses across his neck and chest, lapping up the salt that crystallized on his body from the warm, sunny day. Now and then, you dared to suck on the tender flesh, drawing a heavenly moan from his throat.

Jack’s fingers found the zipper to your dress and began to pull it down slowly. “I haven’t done this…in a long time.” He found the words to say.

You shuddered as more and more air hit your open back as the zipper slid down. “How long?”

He swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat shifting. “10 years.”

Your eyes widened. “You haven’t fucked anyone in 10 years?”

Jack let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, I’ve fucked.” He corrected, but your raised eyebrow and unamused stare inspired him to clarify. “But I haven’t done this.”

You tilted your head, tracing the chiseled outline of his pectoral muscles. “What is this?”

Love. That’s what he wanted to say. He didn’t dare speak it into existence. Not yet. But you already knew. From the way he had first kissed you a few weeks ago. From the way he looked at you with those incandescent eyes. The word didn’t leave his lips. But you could hear it in the silence.

Instead, he dropped his lips to your shoulder and whispered, “You know.”

Your fingers threaded through his chrome curls, taking root as he began to drag his teeth across your clavicle. “I know.” You confirmed.

With a final tug at the zipper, your sundress floated to the ground, pooling at your ankles. When Jack pulled away to admire your body, he choked on his breath when he saw that you had no bra or panties underneath your dress.

“You didn’t have anything on under there all day?” He stuttered, eyes unashamedly raking over your body, indulging in your naked beauty for the first time.

You shrugged, a little self-conscious at his questioning. “It’s a sundress.” You replied like it was the obvious answer.

Jack snaked his arms around your body, pulling you in close, chests smashed together, sharing body heat. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He breathed, mouth hovering over your carotid, dropping an open mouth kiss on your pulse.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck, and whimpered as he explored with his lips. He moved backward towards his bed, sitting down when the mattress bumped against his knees, and pulled you to straddle his lap. With your breasts now hovering just above his eyes, his mouth latched to one of your nipples, securing it between his teeth. Your back arched when he sucked, and your hips ground against his, your bare pussy leaving a damning wet spot on his jeans.

“Oh, Jack.” You whimpered, and he nearly came at the way you said his name.

He hummed in acknowledgment, reaching up to your other breast, tweaking and twisting the hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger. Another grind of your hips, this time grazing his rock-hard cock in the process. The deep vibration of his groan sent shivers through your body as he engulfed more of your breast in his mouth. His free hand gripped your hip like it was the only thing tethering him to reality and guided you to grind against him once more. And again. And again. And again until you reached down to his belt buckle, unlatching the metal, and snatching the leather from around his waist. Your fingers rustled at the button and zipper until you freed his hips from the snug fit of his jeans.

“Can I take them off, please?” You begged, mind clouded with hypothetical guesses of how he looked fully naked.

But that was when Jack slowly sat up straight with that all too familiar look of hesitation and vulnerability that you hadn’t seen since the ice skating rink. His hazel eyes flicked between your irises, unable to focus on one as his thoughts raced to form the right answer.

“I would need to, um…take off my prosthetic.” He finally confessed.

You smiled slightly at the mole hill that he was seemingly making a mountain out of. “Okay.” You chirped. “Can I help you?”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, possible excuses ghosting through his lips as they twitched, until he settled on the truth. “I’ve never had sex without it.”

You raised an amused eyebrow. “So what, you’d take off your foot, then your pants, then put the foot back on?”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “No. I just wouldn’t take off my pants.”

“So for the last 10 years, you just dropped your pants enough to fuck?”

“Exactly that.”

Your smile faded slowly as realization hit you. “Oh. So nobody’s seen your whole body since before…”

Jack’s lips pulled into a thin line, exhaling deeply. “Yeah.”

The look in his eyes sent a stab to your chest. He was scared. You ran a hand against the side of his face, stopping once your fingers threaded through his hair. “Are you scared that I’m gonna find it unattractive or something?” You asked.

He didn’t look away from you, but the sad look in his eyes gave you your answer. He didn’t want to say it out loud because it would sound so silly, so juvenile. But it was true. How could a gorgeous woman like you love a deformed man like him? Sure, they made a whole Disney movie about it, more than one actually, but only one where the deformed guy gets the girl, and that’s after he turns back into-

“Jack?”

Your voice brought him back to the small air you shared together. His eyes focused again, watching the way you shifted in his lap, and your other hand came to rest on his face, holding his head in your grasp.

“I love you.”

The words left your lips softly, deftly, like a secret. Jack didn’t react much, but his eyes widened ever so slightly, more of his hazel irises exposed, and a shaky breath escaped his lips. You continued your confession, maintaining intense eye contact, just how he liked it.

“I love you. You’ve had my heart from the first night I met you when I was on my emergency medicine rotation in med school. I didn’t know it at the time. I didn’t know it until I saw you with Eliza when she broke her arm. Seeing the way you cared for her and for Robby and for his family. I saw a man that I couldn’t help but love because he had nothing but love to give.”

Your words made him dizzy, like he was sucking helium, slowly getting high. Tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes, and you took it as a sign to keep going.

“I know you’ve been married before. I remember you used to wear a wedding ring during my med school rotations and the first couple of days of my intern year. I know she passed away a long time ago.”

It was the first time you ever mentioned his wife, not because you danced around the topic, but out of respect. Jack swallowed thickly at the mention of her.

“I don’t want to replace her. I don’t want to ever push her out of your heart. She was there first. But I just want you to know that you’ve got another person who loves you as much. Who would do anything to make you smile.”

And that made Jack smile. His eyes crinkled, leaning in to your lips with his. “I love you.” He mumbled into your mouth. “More than I thought I was able to love someone.”

His confession drew a relieved exhale from you, and you softened into the kiss, letting his mouth take you wherever was next. Until he pulled away to speak again:

“I haven’t worn my wedding band because of you.”

You heeded his words, but your brow furrowed as you thought back to the last time he wore the ring. “But that was months ago.” You said, really meaning to keep it in your thoughts, but it came out anyway.

Jack just nodded, moving to take one of the hands that cradled his face in his one. “Yeah. Not since the morning you found me talking to her on the roof.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Talking to her?” You questioned.

Jack sighed, not in distress, but in a peaceful exhale. “In the mornings, I used to go up to the roof a lot. Especially after bad shifts. When the sun was rising, I would talk to her. My therapist thought it would keep me from actually jumping off the building to join her, and he was right.”

He laughed at the end of his sentence, and you smiled along with him, but then he met your gaze once more, staring deeply into your soul.

“I didn’t forget you after your med school rotation during your third year. And I was incredibly distraught when you didn’t take a fourth year rotation. I realized it was because I wanted you.” He confessed, then his jaw tightened. “Loved you.” He amended, like it was the first time the confession left his body. “That’s when I began to feel guilty. Like I was betraying her or cheating on her.”

Your brow furrowed in time with his, and he swallowed hard on the stressful memory.

“Those first couple of shifts that you were with me this year were hell. All I could think of was you, and it was eating me alive. I couldn’t even talk about it to Robby because then that made it real. That morning on the roof, I was talking to her about it. Apologizing for it. But then you showed up, not even looking for me, just trying to get some air. And when I saw you, the way the sun was glowing against your face, and you smiled at me…”

Jack smiled now, as he remembered your sleepy features from that morning melting away as you smiled and talked about the most grueling parts of your shift.

“I could hear her telling me to move on. Honest to God, I heard her voice.” His smile remained, but his eyes were dead serious. “Haven’t worn my wedding ring since that day. Haven’t ever taken it off for someone else because…”

You tilted your head as his eyes drifted down to the hand of yours that he held against his chest. “Because…?” You prompted.

“I’ve never met someone who I would replace the ring for.” He looked back up to your curious face. “Not until you."

Tears stung your eyes, and you took in a shaky breath through your lungs. “You’d marry me?”

Jack grinned, pressing his forehead against yours. “I would marry you tomorrow if you let me.” He answered honestly. “But you deserve some more fanfare than that. A pretty ring, a pretty dress, a pretty wedding.”

You wanted to protest, but the idea of marrying Jack was too much to handle. A proposal, a first dance, all while surrounded by family and friends. It made you smile, and you giggled as you tried to suppress your sheer excitement at the thoughts.

Jack just chuckled and peppered your nose with tiny kisses. “Yeah, you’d like that?” He teased, but so lovingly.

“Yeah.” You agreed, letting him kiss the warmth off your face.

Eventually you caught his mouth again with your own, and the kiss felt different. It was domestic, stable, and sure like an oath you were making to each other in that moment. He deepened the kiss first, moving his hands back to your hips, and you were reminded of the aching bulge you still sat upon.

“Jack?” You whispered, tilting your head as his lips roamed to your jawline.

“Yes, love?” He murmured, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he moved down to your neck.

You tapped his right knee gently, and that made him pull away to look at you. “Can I help you take it off?” You asked quietly. “Please?”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He drew in a sharp breath when he nodded, his heart fluttering at the thought of someone helping him for the first time since he left inpatient physical therapy. “Yeah.” He whispered.

You climbed off his lap and slowly sank to your knees. He rolled up the right pant leg of his jeans slowly, revealing the prosthesis. The sleeve cover extended from the socket of the metal to his mid thigh, compressing his leg to secure the prosthetic.

“Show me how.” You demanded simply, the same tone you used when he had taught you how to intubate with a tactical crike kit for the first time.

Jack couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his lips. You were curious, desperate to learn. One of the very things that made him fall for you almost two years ago. But this was so much more intimate than teaching you disaster medicine tricks and shortcuts. He was teaching you how to care for him.

He rested his fingers at the hem of the fabric sleeve on his thigh, thumbs hooking under the right material. “This is a sleeve that I put over the socket. It creates a seal to keep the socket in place, stops it from falling off.” He explained, and he began to roll down the sleeve.

Your hands grasped onto his, letting the sleeve snap back into place against his skin. “Let me do it.” You begged, looking up to him with those doe eyes. “Please. I want to learn.”

Jack relented, a small laugh at your earnestness. “Okay, okay.” He agreed. “But it’s gonna be really sweaty.”

You hooked your index fingers under the sleeve around his thigh and pulled down, letting the material roll over itself, slowly exposing more and more of his skin. He let out a hiss of relief as cold air mixed with the perspiration. The sleeve finally unrolled all the way, uncoupling his leg and the prosthetic.

“Yeah, just like that.” He confirmed with the familiar swirl of pride in his chest from whenever you successfully completed a new procedure. “Now I can just move it to the side.”

He placed the prosthetic beside the bed, and it stood up, perfectly balanced. You looked to his leg now, intrigued by the layers of fabric. “Okay, what’s next?” You questioned, fingers tracing over his bare knee.

Jack pointed to the first layer of fabric. “These are just socks. They help to keep a perfect fit within the socket.” He explained, and you removed the two black socks until you were met with silicone. “This is the liner. Why don’t you let me do this one? It collects a lot of sweat. Like a lot.”

You almost pouted when he wouldn’t let you remove the liner. As he carefully rolled it off, he didn’t notice you disappear into the bathroom until he heard the sink turn on and off. You returned with a damp towel, dropping to your knees again. When he removed the liner completely, the silicone material held a small pool of sweat.

Jack grimaced. “I know it’s gross, but-“

You cut him off by encasing his bare stump in the cold, damp towel, massaging gently through the material. He clenched his eyes shut at the euphoric sensation and tilted his head down toward his chest.

“Does this feel okay?” You asked, trying to apply just enough pressure to relieve the strain from a long day of walking through the park.

He just nodded, unable to speak, only grunting in relief as your fingers worked their magic. You dragged the towel up his thigh, wiping away at the sweat that had beaded throughout the day, cooling off the skin and letting it breathe. He closed his eyes, mostly to hold back tears. He had never been the recipient of such love and care and service, and it was almost overwhelming him.

That is, until he felt your lips on his knee. Kissing once, then twice. Then moving down his shin, a gentle trail of kisses. Until your mouth reached his stump where you stopped to inspect the faded amputation scar before searing it with more kisses.

You sat back on your knees, one hand still massaging the knotted muscles at his stump, and scanned his whole body. “You’re so beautiful, Jack.”

That was more than he could handle. A tear escaped from his eye, and he pulled you up to him, guiding your thighs to straddle his lap once more. His lips caught yours, desperate to taste you again, to battle your tongue for dominance that he was sure to win. You draped your arms around his neck, desperate for the warmth of his bare chest against yours. Absentmindedly, your hips bucked, smearing your wet pussy across the crotch of his jeans, dampening the bulge underneath the zipper. Jack only broke the connection of your lips to groan, the vibration pulling from his gut, far deeper than his chest.

“Oh, fuck, baby doll.” He muttered through clenched teeth, reaching a desperate hand to the fly of his pants.

Your hands met his at his waist, pulling down the zipper to reveal the signature “Lucky You” printed on the inside of the Lucky Brand jeans. How appropriate. Before you could shuck his pants off for him, you were swiftly rolled onto your back and tossed farther up the bed, the bedroom a blur, only stilling once you saw Jack crawling up to hover over your body. His jeans were now on the floor and fuck. He was hung. There was no way that-

“I love you.” His voice cut through your pussy’s panicking, and lowered to kiss the inside of your thigh, large hand gripping your knee just below. “I love you with everything that I am.” Kissing up your thigh now, moving dangerously close to your blazing, dripping core, stubble scraping across your marble skin. “And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.” His nose nudged against your mound, the heat surely condensating against his skin. His breath felt cool in comparison as it hit your folds but warmth spread across your body nevertheless. His eyes flicked up to yours, seeking permission, some kind of confirmation to grant him access to the one thing he’s been wanting since the day he met you.

When your thighs clenched around his shoulders instinctively at the sight, you found yourself unable to form a real sentence. The only thing that would come out of your mouth was a pathetic whimper of his name.

Jack nudged his nose against your hidden clit, like he was marking its location ahead of time to come back to, but his eyes never left you. “I need to you tell me what you want, love. Can’t keep going until you do.” His voice was soft and silvery, but you recognized the underlying strain of lust.

Your cheeks flushed, trying to build up the strength to vocalize your perverse wishes. “Can you eat me out?” You asked.

Jack lips quirked to the side in amusement. Your answer was so sweet and earnest. Not dirty like he was expecting. “You want me to eat you out, honey?” He asked. “Yeah?”

You nodded, brows furrowing in anticipation. “Yeah.” You confirmed.

Without another second of hesitation, Jack dropped his mouth and licked a long, searing stripe against your folds, catching every drop of wetness that had been waiting for him. Your thighs clenched around his head as you screamed his name, fistfuls of his sheets bunched in your hands.

“So wet, goddamn.” He mumbled, gently kissing your pussy, humming as his nose brushed against your clit again. “All this for me? Huh?”

Your fingers found purchase in his chrome curls, anchoring in his scalp, hotly sensitive to his ministrations. “Mmhmm.” You mumbled. “Only for you.”

Jack pressed another kiss to your weeping hole. “That’s right. Only for me.” He reiterated before his tongue dove deep into your core.

Vulgar sounds of his tongue lapping your juices, smacks from his sucking mouth, and your high pitched whines filled the air of his bedroom. It didn’t take long for your abdomen to coil, the telltale hint of an orgasm approaching steadily. But before you could warn him, Jack pulled away, much to your dismay.

“Jaaaaack.” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs against his neck.

He looked up to you, his jaw already gleaming with your juices. “Hold on, baby doll.” He shushed you as his thumb trailed against your folds, moving a little bit higher. “Gonna make you feel better.”

His thick fingers moved to your clit, maneuvering the soft skin until your sensitive bud was fully exposed to the cold air of the room. Without warning, he placed a sickeningly slow kiss against it, pulling back with concentrated suction on the bundle of nerves. Your thighs clamped shut around his neck, and if you were choking him, he didn’t mind the asphyxiation.

“How’s that feel, huh?” He mumbled against your pussy, his stubble burning deliciously against you as he spoke.

Your grip in his hair tightened, forcing his mouth back against your clit again. “S-so good, baby.” You breathed.

Another draw of his mouth against your clit had you screaming his name, squeezing tighter around his neck to a point that he had to use his free hand to slightly pry your thigh enough for a short breath of air. But he didn’t stop. The dance continued like that for a while, him frenching your clit as you squirmed underneath, helpless to his power. When he slipped a thick index finger into your pussy, curling perfectly against that spongy spot inside you, it was only a matter of time before you saw stars.

“Jack, I’m gonna come.” You said it like a warning but Jack took it as a task.

He didn’t stop to praise you or tease you. As soon as your said those words, he was a man on a mission. His suckling mouth doubled down against your clit, taking in the sensitive bud like a devotion. The thick index finger inside you was joined by his middle finger, stretching you further, putting more pressure on that spongy spot.

The twisting in your abdomen reached a peak, but something felt unusual in your core as Jack continued to finger you like a man possessed.

“Wait, Jack. Something feels different.” Your voice trembled, but if he had actually stopped, you think you would have died.

Instead, Jack just hummed against you. “Just give into it, baby doll. It’ll feel good.” His hoarse voice rasped against your bundle of nerves.

Before you could protest, the spring inside you snapped. Your walls pulsed around his large fingers as white heat rushed over your body in conjunction with your juices splashing across Jack’s face, dribbling down his chin as he licked you clean. Your chest heaved as your orgasm rolled through you, the grip in Jack’s curls loosening a bit as you reeled from your high.

“Holy shit.” You panted. “That was…good.”

You felt Jack chuckle as your thighs moved with his bouncing shoulders. “Told ya.” Was all he said with a smug grin before he finished off his meal, leaving nothing left behind.

He began to move up your body again, pressing kisses against your stomach, breasts, chest, neck, jaw, all the way back to your lips. You could taste yourself on his mouth and tongue, his chin slipping against yours from lubrication. You rolled your hips up against his, feeling his length pushing against your belly, aching to be sheathed inside you. When your hips bucked into his for a second time, Jack grabbed them on either side, pinning you down against the mattress.

“What’d I say, huh? Gotta use your words and tell me what you want.” He reminded you, breath ghosting against your neck.

Your hands ran up his back, dragging your fingernails with them in a soothing pattern. “I want you.”

Jack clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side to look up at you. “You’re a doctor. I know you know more words than that.”

You whined and shut your eyes in frustration, trying to roll your hips again, but they were weighted down by his hands still. “I want your cock inside me.” You begged, and when you opened your eyes again, his were incredibly dilated, almost erasing the hazel completely.

“Atta girl.” He praised before lining up the fat head of his cock against your folds, running it up and down to collect your slick. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Ready?” He asked in a voice too soft to be the one that was commanding you just a moment ago, and surely not one that he ever used as a Lieutenant Colonel.

You nodded, securing your arms around his shoulders, bracing yourself. “I’m ready.” You confirmed, sealing your answer with a gentle kiss.

Jack moved forward slowly. Inch by inch. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six?

First, you couldn’t breathe. It was like the air had been knocked out of you, leaving your diaphragm reeling to regain function. The only thing that could come out was pathetic grunts from your chest, barely making it past your vocal cords.

“Almost there.” His coarse voice whispered.

Seven. Eight? Eight. Finally, pelvic bones fused. And that’s when your lungs could fill again, followed by a glass shattering scream. Jack just pressed kisses across your cheeks, smearing the tears that fell.

“That’s my girl.” He grunted softly between your staggered cries of pain.

Your chest heaved, struggling to adjust to his length and thickness. “J-Jack, it’s too much, I can’t do it.” You blubbered.

“You’re gonna have to, love.” He cooed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

More tears spilled from your eyes as he ripped you in half. He brushed away each one with his thumb, leaving kisses in their place. Slowly, he pulled out of you completely, and you could breathe again. But only for a moment.

Jack filled you up again, just a little quicker this time, and you squirmed underneath him. His name sputtered from your lips.

“You’re doing so good for me, kid.” He mumbled against your damp chest, beginning to pull out again.

And that repeated for a long time. Jack would thrust in, and you would scream, and he would praise you. Over and over. The pace picking up each time. Until finally, there was a rhythm. No waiting to finish his praise before he was thrusting in again.

And the pain morphed into pleasure. Your timid hips began to meet his thrusts halfway, and your cries of discomfort turned to cries of ecstasy. The sounds in the room were unholy but surely heaven felt like this.

But just as your second orgasm began to build, Jack’s hips began to stutter, and the veins in his neck bulged as he strained. “I’ve gotta…I’ve gotta stop.” He grunted.

You panicked, thinking he had changed his mind on a whim, the desperation in his voice sending you into a spiral. “What? Why?” You questioned.

He buried his head deep as he pulled out fully, leaving you painfully empty. “I was gonna come.” He rasped. “Don’t wanna yet. Wanna make you feel good.”

You felt relief wash over your body. But something spurred you to ignore his wishes. You linked your legs around his waist and crocodile rolled him with a swiftness. He would have stopped you, but, well, he only had one foot that was grounding him to the mattress.

“You make me feel good.” You reassured him as you lined up over his pelvis again, hovering above his throbbing cock. “You make me feel so good.” Your hand wrapped firmly around his cock, smothering the head against your folds. “But you’re gonna come.”

Before Jack could protest, you sank down on his length, and his voice cracked into incoherent cursing. You rocked on his hips slowly, splaying your hands across the old scar on his abdomen for support. “You’re gonna kill me, kid.” His voice was hoarse, but his smile was unwavering.

“Hopefully not anytime soon.” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut from the way his tip caressed that spongy spot inside you over and over.

And he laughed. You were riding him to his climax, grinding on him like it was your life mission to make him come, and you were making him laugh.

“I’m- oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” He said, and it was meant as a warning.

He was warning you to pull away, so he could use his hand to finish, maybe splatter against your stomach. But when you maintained his intense stare, bouncing impossibly faster on him, he knew your plan. He gripped your hips tightly and began to meet you halfway with sharp thrusts.

“Jack?”

“Yes, love?”

“Fuck a baby in me.”

Now that? That was enough to send Jack over the edge whether or not he wanted to. When he came, he made sure the whole neighborhood knew. His vocal cords shredded as his head pushed back into the bed, throat muscles shifting. You could feel the hot ropes of cum painting your insides with each twitch of his cock, and you slowed your pace to a gentle roll of your hips, milking each drop out of him.

When the spasms began to wane and his breathing returned to a consistent ebb and flow, he focused his gaze on you again. Your silhouette-framed by the golden glow of his bedside lamp, shimmering with sweat but still enchantingly beautiful. He smiled lazily and pulled you against his chest, careful not to pull you off his cock just yet.

Your head rested against his pectoral, right above his heart. Each thump was slower than the last as his breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. His hand ran through your hair, messed and knotted from throws of sex. You nearly fell asleep that way, in his arms, his cock slowly softening inside you, until he spoke:

“Did you mean it?”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, the hazel in his eyes now the majority again. “Mean what?”

“You want a baby?” His voice was so gentle, so small, and so…hopeful. “With me?”

You smiled and brought a hand to the side of his face, pulling him down for a sweet kiss. “Yes, I want a baby.” You answered, but corrected yourself when you remembered his favor for specificity. “With you, Jack.”

Jack couldn’t hold back his smile that quickly transformed into a grin. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, brushing a thumb across his cheek bone. “Absolutely.” You replied before kissing him once more. “Besides, I think Eliza and Abbot need some cousins.”

—

Robby collapsed on the couch next to his wife, slinking lazily into her lap as she watched sitcom reruns. “Abbot is finally asleep.” He mumbled against her stomach, humming with content when her fingers began to card through his dark hair. “Wouldn’t stop babbling. Talks as much as Jack does. Maybe we should’ve named him after your grandfather instead.”

His wife giggled and traced the bridge of his nose. “You know the baby monitor is right here? I could hear you talking to him the entire time. You weren’t letting him sleep.” She replied.

Robby scoffed, wrapping his arms around her waist to secure his resting spot. “For your information, we were talking about very important business.”

“Post season stats for the Penguins is important business?” His wife deadpanned.

“Yes. I’m starting him early so that he can be as stressed as me one day and nearly go into cardiac arrest during every game.” He answered very seriously, trying to fight the sleep that called his name.

That is, until his phone buzzed. With a groan, fearing it was the night shift needing an extra hand or worse, Gloria, he sluggishly reached into his pocket. When the screen lit up, he groaned and raised the phone to his wife. “Read this for me, love. I don’t have my glasses on me.”

Before his wife could make a snarky comment about being an old man, the message on the screen drew a gasp from her. “Holy shit, Jack wants to go ring shopping.”

Robby perked up a bit, but was slow to trust his wife. “You know, it’s not nice to lie to your elders.” He teased.

She shook her head, shoving his phone closer to his face. “No, he really said it!” She exclaimed.

Robby furrowed his brow, holding his phone farther away until the text came into focus. “Well shit, he might beat us on fastest engagement.” He mused before typing back a question of “When do you wanna go?”

“Think they’ll beat us on the baby, too?” His wife teased.

Robby chuckled, placing his phone on his chest as he looked up to his wife. “I doubt it. Can’t let ‘em catch up to us though.” He said before pulling her down for a kiss. “Gotta keep our lead going strong.”

His wife pushed at his chest but still revelled in his kisses. “Give Abbot a chance to be the baby of the family.” She teased.

Robby shrugged, smirking up at her. “I’m just sayin’, only three more babies until I have a basketball team.” He joked in response.

She scratched his beard and squeezed his cheeks condescendingly. “In your dreams, Robinavitch.”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[cameronsbabydoll]

BEFORE YOU NOTICED — CHAPTER SIX

WARNINGS — terminal illness (graphic symptoms), miscarriage/child loss, emotional neglect, mental health deterioration, grief, medical trauma, suicidal ideation (non-explicit)

you’re in the living room, curled on the couch, a blanket draped over your knees like it can hold you together. your body feels like it’s unraveling, threads pulling loose with every breath, every cough. the mansion’s too quiet, the glass walls swallowing sound, the city lights flickering beyond like they’re mocking you. your phone’s on the coffee table, screen dark, but you know the voicemail’s there, the one you didn’t delete, the one you meant to erase before rafe could find it. you forgot. you forget a lot now—words, appointments, the way your hands used to feel steady. your nails are coral, chipped to nothing, the color rafe liked when you were someone he saw. you don’t fix them anymore. what’s the point?

you cough, soft, into your sleeve, and check it. blood, dark and sticky, like it’s tired of hiding. you fold the fabric, tuck it under the blanket, and tell yourself you’ll wash it later, like you’ve washed away every stain—in the sink, on the bathroom floor, in the garden where the forget-me-nots are dying. you think of the baby shoes, hidden in the box labeled winter coats, the ones you bought for lily, the child rafe never knew about. you think of the letters in the safe, locked with your birthday, the ones you wrote when you realized you wouldn’t make it to next spring. you think of the silk robe, tag still on, folded in the closet, and the swan-shaped perfume bottles, dusty on the dresser. you think of henry, the chauffeur, his voice from yesterday: you carry too much alone. nobody should have to do that. it burns, that truth, but you push it down, like always.

rafe’s home early for once, 9:12 pm, his keys rattling in the foyer, his shoes loud on the marble. you hear him muttering, something about a deal gone wrong, his voice sharp, distracted. he steps into the living room, his tie loose, his jacket slung over his arm. “you’re up,” he says, not looking, his eyes on his phone, scrolling through messages you’ll never see. “thought you’d be in bed.”

you don’t answer right away, your throat too raw, your hands too shaky. you nod, a small movement, and pull the blanket tighter. he glances at you, brief, like he’s checking if you’re still there. “you look worse,” he says, his voice flat, like he’s stating the weather. “you sick or what?”

“just tired,” you say, your voice thin, like it’s been worn to threads. it’s the same lie you’ve told for months, the one he always accepts. he nods, already turning away, but his foot catches your phone on the table, knocking it to the floor. it lights up, the screen glowing, and before you can move, he’s picking it up, frowning at the notification. missed voicemail, dr. ellis, 3:47 pm.

“what’s this?” he says, more to himself, and taps the screen. you freeze, your heart a stone in your chest, but you’re too tired, too slow to stop him. the voicemail plays, the doctor’s voice clinical, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “this is dr. ellis from st. mary’s. we need to discuss your results. it’s stage four. please call us back when you have someone to bring you. we can’t proceed without support.”

the room goes still, like the air’s been sucked out. rafe’s face changes, his eyes wide, his phone slipping from his hand to the couch. he looks at you, really looks, for the first time in months, his mouth open, like he’s trying to speak but the words won’t come. you sit there, your hands twisted in the blanket, your breath shallow, waiting for him to say something, anything. your world stopped months ago, when the cough turned to blood, when the aches became a weight you couldn’t carry. his is stopping now, and you’re too tired to feel anything but empty.

“what... what the hell is this?” he says, his voice cracking, like he’s choking on it. he steps closer, his hands shaking, his eyes searching yours like he’s seeing a stranger. “stage four? what does that mean? why didn’t you tell me?”

you look at him, your smile gone, your face heavy, like it’s carved from stone. “i didn’t want to bother you,” you say, flat, the words falling like pebbles. “you’ve been busy.”

he flinches, like you slapped him, and runs a hand through his hair, pacing now, his shoes loud against the floor. “busy? are you serious? you’re—you’re dying, and you didn’t tell me because i was busy?” his voice rises, sharp, but there’s something else under it, something raw, like he’s breaking.

you shrug, a small, tired movement, and look at your hands, the coral polish flaking, the sleeve stained beneath the blanket. “you haven’t looked at me in months, rafe,” you say, your voice steady, even as your chest aches. “you kiss my hair, you say i look tired, but you don’t see me. what was i supposed to say? ‘hey, i’m dying, can you take a break from your meetings?’”

he stops pacing, his face pale, his eyes wet, like he’s seeing you for the first time and hating himself for it. “how long?” he asks, his voice low, barely there. “how long have you known?”

“months,” you say, and the word feels like a confession, like you’re admitting a crime. “since the blood started. since i missed appointments. since i wrote the letters.”

“letters?” he says, his brow furrowing, his hands clenching. “what letters?”

you shake your head, too tired to explain, too tired to drag him into the safe, the envelopes, the shoes, the secrets you’ve carried alone. “it doesn’t matter,” you say, and cough, soft, into your sleeve. you don’t check it. you know what’s there.

he kneels in front of you, his hands hovering, like he’s afraid to touch you, like you might break. “it matters,” he says, his voice thick, desperate. “god, it matters. why didn’t you tell me? i could’ve—i don’t know, i could’ve done something, been here, anything.”

you look at him, his eyes wide, his face close, and you see the man you loved, the one who danced with you in a cramped apartment, who laughed when you spilled wine on his shirt. you see the man who stopped seeing you, who chased deals and left notes and kissed your hair instead of your mouth. “you weren’t here,” you say, not cruel, just true. “i didn’t want to beg you to care.”

he makes a sound, like a sob caught in his throat, and presses his forehead to your knees, his hands gripping the blanket. “i’m sorry,” he says, over and over, like it’s a prayer, like it can change anything. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t know. i didn’t see.”

you don’t touch him, not because you don’t want to, but because your hands are too heavy, your body too frail. you think of the garden, the lilies you named for the child you lost, the forget-me-nots crumbling to dust. you think of the shoes, hidden in the closet, the box labeled winter coats where lily’s memory lives. you think of the letters, locked away, the words you wrote when you knew you were fading. you think of the swan bottles, the silk robe, the life you built for a man who didn’t look.

“i’m tired, rafe,” you say, your voice soft, like a sigh. “i’ve been tired for a long time.”

he lifts his head, his eyes red, his face raw, like he’s seeing every moment he missed—every cough you hid, every bloodstain you washed, every night you waited. he reaches for your hand, his fingers warm, desperate, but you pull back, not because you don’t love him, but because you’re too far gone to feel it. “what can i do?” he asks, his voice breaking. “tell me what to do.”

you shake your head, your breath shallow, your heart a quiet drum. “just look at me,” you say, and for the first time in months, he does, his eyes locked on yours, like he’s trying to memorize you before you disappear.

you don’t go to bed. you stay on the couch, the blanket slipping, your sleeve stained, your phone silent now. rafe sits beside you, closer than he’s been in years, his hand hovering, like he’s afraid to break you. you think of henry’s words, you carry too much alone, and wonder if rafe will ever understand. you think of lily, the shoes, the blood you cleaned. you think of the letters, waiting for a day he’ll open them and know. you cough, soft, into your sleeve, and let the blood dry, a mark you don’t hide anymore.

you lean your head back, the city lights blurring, and close your eyes. you dream of a voicemail, repeating, and a man who finally sees you, too late.

[ghelgheli]

i would actually like to hear more of your thoughts on whipping girl, whenever you feel ready enough to talk about it. i've only ever heard positive recommendations for it. i was thinking of reading it. i've read one or two introductory 101 texts on transmisogyny as well as some medium/substack posts, and always looking to read more as a tme person. ty!

thanks for asking! I'm gonna try to be concise because I'm stuck on my phone for the month, but here are my thoughts on whipping girl:

serano is at her strongest in the book in three areas: manifestations of transmisogyny in media (e.g. how trans caricatures pervade movies), the history of medical institutions developing a pathology of transsexuality (like the diagnostics of blanchard et al. or how trans people seeking healthcare were and continue to be forced into acting out prescribed expressions and manufacturing memories), and the construction of her own transition narrative (telling the reader what it was like for her to grow up desiring femininity in a way that confused her, the experience of crossdressing, the effects of hrt for her)

whenever she's just sticking to this, I think she effectively communicates a lot that the unaware reader could benefit from—even many trans women/transfems/tma people who are otherwise in tune with the history of medicalized transsexualism and our popular depictions could probably benefit from her own personal narrative, by nature of how variegated our experiences can be.

unfortunately I think the book fails at its primary—stated—goal, which is to theorize about transmisogyny. in the big picture this is a bifurcated failure:

on one branch of her argument, she remains committed to there being something biologically essential/innate about gender. this manifests thru multiple claims: that we have "innate inclinations" toward masculinity/femininity and "subconscious sex" rather than what I believe, which is that the latter are constructed categories imposed on different matrices of behaviour/expression/desire in different cultural contexts; that there is "definitely a biological component to gender" (close paraphrase) after a discussion of how she believes E and T tend to affect people (thus equivocating gender with dominant hormones!); that we have such a thing as "physical sex" which is the composition of our culturally decided "sex characteristics" (don't ask me how the dividing line is drawn) even as she says we should stop using "biological sex" as a term; that there is "no harm" in agreeing that "sex" is largely bimodal with some exceptions; that social constructionism is necessarily erasure of transsexual experiences in early childhood... altogether she is unwilling to relinquish arguments about the partial "innateness" of femininity/masculinity and gender. this is at tension with her admission on several occasions that these are neither culturally/geographically nor temporally stable concepts! but that doesn't seem to be a line she can follow thru on.

on another, intertwining branch, she engages in what I think is a deep and widespread mistake in the theorizing of transmisogyny: reducing it (mechanistically) to what she calls effemimania* or essentially anti-femininity. it is her stated thesis at the start that masculinity is universally preferred to femininity. she doesn't offer a definition of either term until one of the final chapters, where she defines them as the behaviours and expressions associated with a particular gender. but I think this reduction just misunderstands transmisogyny. it is even in tension with an observation she makes early on, that trans women are often punished for their perceived masculinity! but again, this is a thought she seems unable or unwilling to follow thru with.

my problem with the thesis is that masculinity and femininity do not float free of gender—it is not possible to speak of their valuation in the abstract. anyone who grew up as a masculine cis girl and never "grew out" of that "phase" can attest to the violence wrought upon expressions of masculinity from women. and this applies doubly so to the subjects of transmisogyny! not only are we punished for any perceived bleed-through of masculinity from our supposed "underlying male selves", those of us who are willingly masculine and thriving as mascs are punished for our failure to conform to the rules of the normative womanhood that is imposed on us (just as we are punished for any willing femininity as "false" and predatory upon cis womanhood—observe that transmisogyny is reactive degendering in every case!).

on both branches serano makes only perfunctory remarks about the intersections with race, class, and colonialism. "sex" as such was made to only be accessible to the "civilized", most of all the white european! for a racialized person and particularly a Black person navigating gender the waters are just not the same; the signifiers of sex neither available in the same way, nor granted the same medical legitimacy. what is the "physical sex" of someone who is de-sexed altogether? how can gender have a "biologically innate" component when its expressions between the bourgeoisie and the working class are at total odds with one another? this all goes for the masculine/feminine distinctions as well. what sense is there in the claim that we have innately masculine/feminine inclinations when globally (and transmisogyny has been made global!) what is feminine and masculine can be very nearly mirrored? nor is "masculinity is always considered superior to femininity" innocent of obviating race. transmisogynoir adds yet further degendering thru the coercive masculinization of someone as a Black woman—masculinization as punishment, again!

and as a final point, the account fails to be materialist. there is no attempt to place transmisogyny in its role as an instrument of political economy or, as jules gill-peterson might say, as a tool of statecraft. it is just a psychological response to the way the world is, as far as serano has anything to say about it. but how did the world become that way, and why?? serano's solution, the abolition of what she calls gender entitlement, is naive to the fact that gender entitlement is necessary to the maintenance of the capitalist state, which is structured thru patriarchy and built on colonialism. it is not possible to reskin this into something innocuous!

this is why I cannot recommend whipping girl as a work about transmisogyny except at the most shallow level. it could be a helpful critical read, but imo, it is just wrong about transmisogyny.

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter ten

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: time passes without a whisper of danger—yet your nerves remain coiled, the calm louder than any threat, and even the smallest unraveling leaves you raw. and then—a reminder. a sweet and scruffy one.

⤿ warning(s): discussion of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 1.7k

Night settles over The Pitt—still damp from the days-long storm, but humming with the restless energy that always spikes when day hands off to graveyard. You and Jack step from his truck into a crisp mist, the hospital’s glass façade beading with rain that looks silver under the loading-bay floodlights. New security lamps flare along the sidewalk—Gloria’s latest decree—and a pair of guards linger at the doors, radios murmuring.

Inside the vestibule, you barely have time to swipe your badge before Margot’s unmistakable laugh echoes off the tile. She’s striding out with Bob at her side, keys jingling on his belt loop. They both slow when they spot you. Margot’s smile goes soft around the edges, the charge nurse façade slipping just a hair.

“Look who decided to grace the night shift with her presence,” she teases, but her eyes rake you head to toe—inventorying. Bob lifts the insulated tote he’s carrying, waggles it like contraband.

“You didn’t think we’d let you start a shift without pre-approved carbs, did you?” he says. The tote is clearly stuffed with fresh clothes, some snacks, and your favorite thermos. 

You accept with heat prickling your eyes. “Thank you guys. For the other stuff too.”

“No problem,” Bob says. He steps close, dipping his voice. “You doing okay?”

You expected the question, will expect it a dozen more times before dawn, but gratitude still stirs. “Hour by hour,” you answer. “Tonight feels…manageable.”

Margot hooks her arm through Bob’s, visibly relieved. “Good. Because we left a stack of elbow-deep charting for your meticulous little heart.”

Jack snorts behind you. “Translation: Ellis kept things imploding, but she’s threatening to duct-tape Shen to the inventory closet.”

Margot laughs, reaches out, and squeezes your forearm, her thumb pressing reassurance into your sleeve. “Call if you need anything—security code or emotional rescue.” Then she tips her chin at Jack. “And you—don’t let her do all the lifting.”

He lifts a hand in casual salute. “Roger that.”

With a final wave, the two of them disappear into the night, headed toward the staff lot where morning routines and normal sleep still exist. You watch them go until the door hisses shut, muffling the outside world.

Jack turns, clinks his badge against yours like a toast. “Ready?”

You draw a breath—clean antiseptic, distant coffee, the ever-present ozone tingle of the sterilizers. The hall ahead is bright and chilled, monitors already chiming in their peculiar midnight harmony. Security cameras pivot softly overhead, tracing every angle.

“Ready,” you say, and together you step past the threshold—back into fluorescent light, controlled chaos, and the shifting constellation of night-shift hearts that are already orbiting, waiting for your steady gravity to settle them.

. . .

The first night back feels like wearing stiff boots over half-healed blisters—every step deliberate, the pinch of memory always there. You track every clipboard, double-lock every med cart, and tense when a pager shrieks too close to your ear.

Yet nothing happens.

By the second week you’re still cataloging every unfamiliar face, but you’re also teasing a new nurse when he mislabels a drain and walking a med-student through a central-line checklist without your voice wobbling. The scanner Ramirez installed on the staff entrance clicks each time you badge in, a small mechanical reminder that the perimeter is tighter now. You and Jack trade five-minute hand-offs at the clean-utility alcove—his shoulder bump, your muttered “hydrate”—and the shift rolls on.

Weeks braid into a measured rhythm. 

By November, the south wing glows with early holiday lights and the trauma corridor carries a faint, persistent whiff of pumpkin-spiced coffee. You’ve also reclaimed your “midnight Bento” ritual—onigiri for Parker, hot miso for Shen—while Jack complains there’s still no chili oil. 

That same week Gloria corners you outside Sterile Core, her heels clicking a decisive cadence. She’s carrying a color-coded staffing matrix and a look that means business. “Security metrics have held thirty days,” she says, flipping to a highlighted column. “If you’re ready, I’m clearing you for day shift—and your old surgical slot. We’ll keep the enhanced badge checks, but the board trusts the system.”

You swallow, nod, and realize your pulse doesn’t spike at the prospect—only hums with something like anticipation.

And just like that, Veterans Day circles the calendar, and with it comes Jack’s rare PTO request: one personal day to breathe outside hospital walls, visit the memorial, recalibrate. On the eve of it, the shift starts hot and only climbs.

By mid-morning you and Ellis are juggling a dehisced abdominal wound when a flustered volunteer wheels in a couple clutching a gasping toddler. Triage tags them for you—shortness of breath, fever, no documented vaccines. The boy’s ribs see-saw with each breath; his O₂ reads 86. You hustle him onto oxygen while Ellis pages Respiratory, but the parents block the door, insisting the pulse‐ox is “rigged.”

“We keep our kid clean,” the father snaps, arms folded like a blockade of plaid. “No toxins.”

“Toxins are what he’s choking on right now,” you answer, trying to slip a thermometer past the mother’s swatting hand. The toddler wheezes, small fingers scrabbling for your scrub pocket. Two techs arrive with a nebulizer; the mother accuses them of “pharma poisoning.” 

Your patience thread frays. Security hovers outside at the ready.

Ellis finally edges the parents into the hallway by sheer force of Latin terminology, leaving you and the RT inside with the wheezing boy. You press the mask to his face, voice dropped to a lullaby, while through the cracked curtain you hear the father call Ellis “brainwashed.” 

By the time the parents cave in (at the last minute) and the the kid’s sats climb to 94, sweat slicks your spine. Security is also quick to escort the parents to registration; they leave paperwork crumpled, still muttering “government numbers.”

Ellis hands the child off to Pedi ICU, all while adrenaline jitters your wrists, and you return to find the med cart disassembled by a float nurse who wanted “just in case” morphine. It feels like one long violation—the parents’ disbelief, the cart chaos, the weight of fixing what should never have broken.

So you focus on rebuilding the drawers, alphabetical dividers snapping into place a little too hard, each click an exorcism. It’s in this raw, ragged pocket of the day that Jack appears in the med alcove to remind you again of his veterans-day absence.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Quick reminder—tomorrow I’m off. Ramirez and Parker know to be on—”

“Jack, I know,” you snap, vial tray clattering as you shove it home. “You’ve told me three times already. I’m not a stray left at the pound.” Your heart hammers; embarrassment floods in behind the anger but can’t dam the tears springing hot to your lashes. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to hover just because I’m today’s damsel-in-distress.”

The sudden silence swells; the fridge hums. Jack’s gaze flicks to the re-ordered drawers, traces the tension coiled in your shoulders.

“I know you’re not fragile,” he says, voice even but warm. “I just care where my foxhole partner is standing.”

“That’s the problem,” you bite back, pulse still hammering from the parents’ tirade. “You’re always gauging my location like I’m a breach in the hull. I don’t need a minder every time you leave the building.”

He exhales through his nose—patience fraying—but keeps calm. “Listen—”

Your laugh cracks like brittle glass. “Spare me the pep talk. I’m holding by dental floss, and you hovering makes me feel like I’m seconds from splintering.”

Jack’s jaw tightens. He looks both ways, then curls two fingers into your scrub sleeve and steers you toward an empty bay. The curtain snaps shut behind you.

“Jack—”

“Quiet.” His voice is low, trembling with its own edge. “You just fought conspiracy parents while rebuilding a med cart like it’s Jenga. You skipped lunch and tore up your cuticles until they bled. I’m not hovering out of guilt—I’m hovering because I watched you hit the floor once and I’m not scheduling an encore.”

You open your mouth, fury and embarrassment tangling. “Stop making this about you feeling heroic. I will survive one day without—”

“That’s not what this is.” He steps closer, heat rolling off him. “You want proof?”

Before you can snarl another word he cups your face—hands firm but reverent—and kisses you, full and unhesitating. His stubble scrapes your skin in a rough, almost electric drag that somehow feels exactly right, grounding fury into something warmer. The shock blazes through anger, through exhaustion, until only the thunder of two heartbeats and antiseptic-scented air remain. His thumbs keep stroking your cheekbones, as if re-anchoring every fracturing part.

He pulls back just far enough to speak, breath ragged. “That is why I need to know where my foxhole partner stands. Not to monitor—” another kiss, softer, “—but to come stand there with her.”

This is months of unspoken wanting distilled into a single, wordless confession. His hands frame your face as if he’s chiseling truth into stone, and every press of lips says I love you, I love you, I love you without needing breath or syllables.

Tears cool on your cheeks, but they carry no fear—only the stunned relief of mysteries solved. “Fine,” you whisper, voice ragged but sure. “Go honor your day. I’ll hold the line.”

Jack’s answering smile is small, fierce, eyes shining with everything the kiss already said. 

“It’s been a long time since we claimed the roof,” he murmurs, voice husky from the confession that just burned across your lips. “Maybe we trade the foxhole for a bird’s-eye again. Day after I’m back—and after your first day shift—I’ll be up there at change-over like we used to. Deal?”

Something expansive blooms in your chest, bigger than relief, sharper than hope. You answer by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him so fiercely he rocks on his heels.

“Deal,” you breathe against his collar. “Rooftop. After day shift. Tea included.”

He chuckles, warm and certain, and presses a final kiss to your cheek before slipping away at the shouted call of his name, the curtain whispering closed behind him. You let your lungs fill at last—still bent, still bone-weary, but no longer so tightly woven. When you push the curtain aside and step back into the buzzing corridor, the feeling of that stubbled kiss settles over your heart like fresh-forged armor, bright enough to carry you through the rest of this night—and all the way up to the rooftop tomorrow.

divider credit

[smoothlikealikeasnake]

Strong Coffee and Sweet Cakes

Chapter Four ‘Sweetest Rain’

Genre - BTS FF, a/b/o dynamics, a/b/o BTS and MC, Ot7 x fem MC/reader, so fluffy, little angst, eventual smut

Warnings - doctors appointment, discussion of medical concerns, effects of exhaustion physically, feelings of uncertainty, so much fluff it’s actually a warning, lmk if there’s any more xx

Summary - A new cafe near the Hybe building will change the 7 members of Bangtan’s lives forever, 7 alphas in a pack? A recipe for disaster. Until a sweet omega starts to stir up their world with a little bit more sugar and slowly their loneliness dissolves

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Author Notes - Ugh I love this chapter so much. 13k words of LOVE. well, kinda.

I wrote this so quickly in comparison to other chapter and I was aiming for 8k… yeah that went out of the window.

I just love them, i love where its going, i have so many ideas and ugh just so cute.

“Your scents sweetening again Y/nie, when are you next seeing Dr. Kim?” - Soojin nags, her voice quiet across the counter whilst you both prepare drinks. It makes you frown a little because, in the last few days—dare I say maybe it started a week or two ago?—your scent has been flaring randomly, a little sweeter and heady. 

Luckily for you, you obviously use scent blockers, but in close proximity, your friends can differentiate your usual scent from a sweeter version, an indication of your impending heat, but you're not due for your heat for at least another month. 

Dr. Kim is your doctor for checking your omega biological needs; you go to see her every 3 months, a week before you're scheduled to enter pre-heat and start symptoms. Shes dear to you; your comfortability with her spreads far since you’ve gone to her since you were 13, as most omegas begin to see their doctor regularly as signs of puberty set in. 

This routine is one of the many things you keep on top of to ensure your health and state are completely in your hands, whilst it would be a lot more laid back for an alpha or beta; as an omega, one without a pack and anyone you try to rely on, you are quite tight on these smaller things. You go every 3 months without fail. This time though, you're going to have to schedule an extra appointment.

“Not for another few weeks… maybe I should try to schedule another appointment sooner.” You mumble it out, not entirely happy because you never get your heat early-—it's perfectly on time every 3 months, 4 times a year, without any interruptions. You don't have any other symptoms, just the flaring of your scent and increased nesting instincts, but if it's going to come early, you're going to be prepared for it.

“That sounds best; now, go say hi to one of your lovesick puppies that has just walked in” - Your pushing at her shoulder and scold her immediately, scowling and denying her words because the ‘one of your lovesick puppies’ is her new way of referring to the 7 alphas who have recently started to attend more often. 

“They are just customers.” 

“Aish, im just being friendly.”

“It’s hardly special treatment.”

“I care for all my customers like that.”

Yeah, your friends have heard all the ‘excuses’ - as they call them - not believing a word you say although you insist there's nothing special about them, right? “Taehyung! Oh, new hair!” - You gush and fret over Taehyung’s freshly cut hair, refusing to let the disappointed frown settle over your lips because it was just so fluffy before- it looks amazing now but before - 

“Ah yeah, it’s a little short, no?” - He runs his hands through it effortlessly, but it makes you capture the jewellery decorating his wrist and hands; he's always well put together, favouring elegance most of the time when he comes in. Even when he's in some sweats, he somehow makes it look put together. Taehyung spins his head a little to show it off, seeing you lean in to observe whether you agree, and he catches your fingers twitch - from wanting to run your fingers through it - although you never would, of course. 

“It’s shorter, but it really suits you, although I do like the grown-out look” - You admit, you’re always honest with them, expressing what you really think, and you know your opinion won’t hurt Taehyungs feelings, so you tell him it, and he likes that. 

“Mmm, it was fluffier, right?” - Taehyungs fishing for your reaction without you even knowing, smiling teasingly and wiggling his eyebrows when you nodded firmly, not catching on until he continues.

“Do you want to touch it? Feel if it's still just as soft?” - Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows at you before breaking out into his boxy smile at your stunned look, your gaze switching between his hair and his face over and over, not knowing how to respond before lightly swatting his arm rested on the counter

“Aish, don’t be silly, Taehyung” - Your smile shows you’re also only playing, then you move on to taking his order, but whilst you do so, he freezes momentarily. 

Just as Soojin mentioned just a few minutes ago, your scent flurries around you in a sweet burst, no reason behind it and in such close proximity, Taehyung stills, breathing in a little too deep and his brain falters; he can see the scent blockers under your ears so why- 

He’s launching back with a big gulp, standing upright to put a little distance and not get even more affected than he already is by your scent because he’s holding back a rumble in his chest and his alpha is clawing at him to get in a little closer and get hooked on the scent, which he refuses to do because he has basic manners, for god’s sake; he’s not an alpha going through puberty. 

The rest of your interaction goes without much of a problem; he’s taking his sweet frappe to go. You’ve learnt Taehyung doesn’t like coffee, and you approve- harder for him to have unhealthy amounts of caffeine through it this way. He likes a singular teaspoon - just under, to be specific - in his teas, of all kinds, unless it's the citron tea, in which he takes a large and has nearly two teaspoons. You just prepare it for him at this point; he's always so appreciative of it too, gushing and exaggerating his approval to see you laugh. You’ve progressed your friendships with them all a lot since your meeting, maybe a little closer with the rappers, but you’ve warmed up to the vocal line very quickly, as they have to you. 

You speak more with Jungkook and Jimin on your late-night run-ins at the convenience store than at the cafe. Taehyung is just like this—fun, friendly, warm, a little teasing and flirty, but you can give it right back when he offers it. It's comfortable and the kind of interaction that really brightens your day. 

Maybe you shouldn’t admit it, but that’s why you’re extra quick to pick up on any day he’s not feeling as happy, just like with Hoseok; if they aren’t happy, it’s such a stark difference that it has you frowning the second they aren’t walking in with a bright smile. With Taehyung, it hasn't been often enough for you to work out a real way to help. What you have done is always make sure to put the jazz music he's so partial to next on the playlist when he comes in and write a little poetry quote on a small paper to give to him when you give him his drink - an interest you’ve found you both share. 

Jin, oh Jin, he's so attentive it's criminal. He's gentle and soft-spoken despite how intimidatingly handsome he is. Alongside that, he never misses a thing, and he's firm in how he shows his concern for you, no matter how much you brush it off.

“You’re trembling” - He first points it out on a late Wednesday, refraining from taking your hands within his own. It was just not a great day; a couple of rude and straining interactions, your back hurting a little more today, burning yourself on a batch of cookies that early morning—it just all seemed to add up, and your body was bearing its edge. 

“Ah, its just a habit.” - You wave him off and get back to preparing his drink but you can hear him over your shoulder

“No, that’s a reaction to your body being overworked; you should be at home in a nest right now” - Of course, Jin didn’t say this right off the bat the first time you met; he’d seen it many times at this point, alongside your other small symptoms, the rashes, the strained muscles—you get it. 

You look at him in surprise because theres no denying that but to mention an omega’s nest - even in passing - is incredibly intimate and you cant stop the flushing of your cheeks and your stuttered response

“It-I’ll be okay; I’ll do that soon...” - You mumble the last part, blushing furiously as you let on that you will indeed rest in your nest later but although Jin knows it’s intimate and nowhere near his place to comment as an alpha-—one not in your pack-—he does it from a place of concern; he might be blatantly pushing an unspoken boundary but he sees it in you too often not to say anything

“It’s nearly closing, isn’t it? You’ll go straight home?” - He pushes; he has too

“I still have to do some baking prep for tomorrow, a few cakes and uh, pretzels, i think” - You mutter out in response, feeling scolded, but also something within you feels warm, and maybe there's a purr threatening to spill out from the care he's showing—which is ridiculous, you tell yourself to get it together. 

“One day without a few extra options of bakes won't hurt.” 

“Ah, but even Joonie won't get his pretzel.” - You awkwardly chuckle, so attached to your work that it feels awfully wrong to even consider letting go of some of your duties for the day; it has you shifting and looking down at your trembling hands. Maybe they wont do much good in this state after all…

“Then he won’t get one; he can live. Go home, get a good rest, nest, you need it.” - Jin is clearly passionate about it; he also seems to be at least somewhat versed in omega biology. You shift but take a deep breath because your instincts are clawing at you to agree, to do exactly as he says because he's so clearly trying to help; his voice might be firm, but it's dripping with concern, and the small frown on his lips is genuine. 

“Okay…” - His approval is worth having a few less cakes for tomorrow. he wants to reach out and ruffle your messy hair, but instead, he smiles, nodding and then he replying without thinking and immediately regrets it

“Good Omega” - The way your eyes widen and cheeks flare is something almost animated, holding back a purr, although a singular syllable indicating it leaves your mouth before you slap a hand over it, mortified at your reaction, and you and Jin just stare at each other in pure shock before you have to break the contact because omg did he really just say that?!- just call you that- your hearts beating out loud at this point and omg why do you feel soft and a little dazey- 

“Im sorry i dont know what happened that just slipped out-” - Jin is staring at you absolutely mortified with himself-—how that just happened is out of his knowledge; hes blushing furiously, but within him he's holding back a rumble from your reaction, an approving growl trying to vibrate out of his throat, and he has no idea what you are doing to them, but this is becoming a regular sort of occurrence- you giving them all this feeling.

“Its okay!-” - You blurt out, a bit too hasty, laughing shyly and handing over Jin’s drink, your fingers grazing his own as he takes it and it sends sparks through your hand and arm, only getting more flushed and your pupils dilating a little more- wow you really need to shake yourself out of it

“...nest.” - Jin hesitates to say it again, but he meets your eyes, his embarrassment still evident, pushed aside to make sure you will, and you nod firmly, a small ‘mhm’ falling from your lips before he turns to leave. Its safe to say you scream to yourself in silence behind the counter afterwards and try to slow your heart and suppress your purrs from his words.

You do as he says though, reluctantly abandoning the few extra bakes to go home, have a shower, and jump straight into your nest in some fresh pyjamas, now openly purring and rolling around, pupils heavily dilated and cheeks flushed intensely as you can't get those two words out of your head- what are they doing to you?!

—----------------------------------------------------------------

Your Saturday is cut short at work to go and attend the soonest appointment you could get with Dr. Kim, the lady is a beta, mid-50s, looks amazing for her age, and is so motherly it warms your heart. Despite being a beta, a lot of her family are omegas and have medical care histories dating back decades, always sharing her home remedies and advice with you. 

You're called in from the sterile, quiet waiting room to her slightly warmer room; it's equally as sterile, of course, but has attention to small details to make it just a bit more welcoming. There are beanbags in the corner, all the other chairs are loaded with extra pillows, and there is a pile of blankets of all sizes, textures, and materials in the corner, and the walls are painted a very light, pastel yellow rather than white. 

“My Y/n!, how have you been, dear?” - She's as enthusiastic as ever, ushering you to sit down and instantly handing you a fruit candy, as she has done since you came to her for the very first time when you were 13, so nervous you were trembling. She fussed and draped a blanket over your shoulder and handed you a candy, ensuring there was nothing to be worried about, and it just stuck. 

“Yeah, I’ve been good mostly!” - You smile back and shrug because, well, you wouldn't be here if you were just incredible.

“The cafe?” - Discussing possible stress factors - jobs especially when it comes to omegas - is a vital part of your checkups so Dr. Kim is up to date with everything about your cafe, from long before it became reality “Amazing, a dream come true” - You can’t help but gush, sighing out happily as you think about it, and she listens intently, no note-taking yet, no checking over random details on anything because she knows and remembers you; as close as you hold her to your heart, she holds you to hers. 

“Oh, im so proud, truly.” “Now, we aren't due another check-up for a few more weeks; why now?” - She doesn’t try to hide the mild concern in her voice because you never have had to book extra appointments really; your cycle and behaviour have been regular and expected despite your lifestyle. 

“I’ve been having random flushes of my scent sweetening and strengthening, just bursts or it randomly and i need to nest a lot more intensely and nothing ever quite seems right recently” - Dr.Kim hums, intrigued and now noting down your symptoms and carrying out the rest of her questions regarding it

“Well, you aren't due for your heat yet; are you still using scent blocker patches?” - She’s more so questioning whether you’ve been trying a new alternative rather than anything else

“Yes, most days.”

“Okay, so they shouldn't affect anything since they aren't hormonal. Have you been stressed?” - Avoiding her stare that just says ‘give it to me straight’ is incredibly hard, has your voice rising a pitch as you answer

“I don't think so, not in like a new stress-factor sort of way?”

“And what about the things we discussed before: the shaking, muscle pain, and rashes?” - She asks because your scent and instincts tie in to these so tightly; it's a relevant connection, and she knows you push yourself, no matter how much anyone protests. It’s partially the reason she feels so strongly about you, sharing more than just typical medical advice and all of the things she’s learnt from her family to help you in any way you let her. 

“Mm, well, yeah, it's still there.” - You look down to avoid her eyes, and you can actually feel the expression she gives you, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“More?” 

“Maybe…”

“Okay, can you just remove your sweatshirt? I’ll have a look at these rashes,” you sigh out and stand, removing it like she says and knowing you’re going to be in for her fussing and scolding in just a few moments. It’s not like they look awful—far from it; they are just there though, and admittedly they are larger than they were when they began to appear.

“Okay, so the maybe is definitely a yes. Are they painful?” - She hovers her fingers over the one leading a little line from your neck to your shoulder blade, another just around the right side of your hip. 

“Only a little sometimes; they come and go though; none are permanent,” - You say as if that's any better, and maybe it is; at least they go. Dr.Kim sighs out and tells you that you can put your sweatshirt back on

“I'm going to prescribe you some ointment for them; you really do need to do a few less hours though; it's taking a toll on you.” 

“I know…” - You look away, rubbing your arm as you can feel her frown and concern for you; easier said than done. You are the only baker for the cafe, and you set yourself high expectations. While you don't have to work every day as you do realistically, you could hire new employees; that's not exactly straightforward. Your co-workers are some of your best friends; they do insist they can do more days and hours, but it feels almost like pity from them, and you don't want that.

“This could be the reason for your scent and nesting changes, but…maybe”

“Maybe?” “Have you happened to… meet… anyone recently or engage in activity with anyone?”

“No!” - You blurt it out, blushing in embarrassment because, as normal as it is, Dr.Kim is like a second mother to you, and speaking to her about that, as natural as it is, always does make you embarrassed.

“Okay, so you aren't sexually active with anyone right now, but have you been in any kind of romance with anyone? Maybe someone new?” - You don't know why, but you consider telling her about the seven alphas you met, but that would simply be ridiculous because you have no sort of romantic relations with them. Yeah, they make you blush occasionally, but that's nothing, right? Surely not. Definitely not, so you brush it off; it's just you overthinking and going through absolutely anyone you’ve met. 

Your inner turmoil is enough of an answer for Dr. Kim and although she knows you probably wont admit it, she’ll give a reply anyway

“Alright, so I think there are two possibilities: these could just be added symptoms of your body reacting to you overworking yourself, as I've said before, or… if you possibly have met someone, your body could either be trying to react to them and the change in dynamic, or your omega wants to induce your heat earlier in response.”

“What do I do?”

“We still have our 3-month checkup in a few weeks. If nothing changes, the nesting might settle down a little, or your scent occasionally fluctuates but not at an increased rate. I think it will be okay as long as you have no other symptoms, and we will just go ahead then. However, if you get any more symptoms of your heat, if the feelings intensify, call me; we can do some blood work, look further into it, and discuss more. How does that sound?” - She finishes typing and refocuses on you, truly asking for your opinion, and you know if you were to request blood work and further details right now, that she’d oblige, but you trust her; you trust that you can just be overthinking and this can be a mild flare. 

“Yeah, okay, that sounds good…” “You can always call me Y/N, you know that; as soon as you're concerned, just call, alright?”

“If it comes to your heat approaching too soon, we can look into temporary suppressants to set it back to put it on track. It should be preventable, okay? Dont stress Y/n” - She can see the tension in your body as you consider the possibilities, and it's really not doing you any favours; at this rate you'll only induce more symptoms and worry yourself further, but Dr. Kim's reassurance that you'll be able to get it back on track is enough for you to let out a sigh and nod.

She asks you a few basic and casual questions to finish up with, easing your mind and allowing you to relax. Believe me, she doesn't let you leave without an earful about how you need to slow down and that if there is someone, you should let them embrace and help you. She's practically chasing you out with the words, still mumbling as you're walking down the corridor to leave the clinic, and the receptionist gives you a knowing smile, Dr.Kim turning back into her office with a shake of her head. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

Back at the Bangtan's shared penthouse, Yoongi and Hoseok are hosting a v-live to connect with army a bit more, not having done so very often recently due to their schedules. They are enjoying a meal and casually talking whilst Hoseok occasionally leans over to read over the comments.

“I hope you eat well. We will; you should too army” - Hoseok takes a big spoonful of rice to affirm his words and then Yoongi finds it to be a relevant point of discussion

“You know, I think I’ve gained weight recently” - Yoongi would put it down to them having a bit of a break before getting more intense for performances again, but that wouldn’t be the truth. The truth is he's grown a strong liking to your bakes and is dipping in some days more than once to grab something; he's noticed just a little extra layer of softness around his abdomen, and the rest of his body is definitely thicker - like his arms and chest. Not that he minds; he will work it off once they start up again anyway. 

The comments flood with things such as disagreement that he has and saying he looks great and praise for him eating well

“Wah, you know, I think I have too” - Hoseok is obviously dancing whenever he's got a second to enjoy and spare, which leads his body to be lean and subtly muscular, but he's also put on a little bit of weight, converted into muscle, making his arms a bit thicker and his face just a tad less bony, and the fans say he looks good, that it suits him. 

“You know I heard Namjoon saying the same a few days ago.” 

“Hmm, yeah, he mentioned it in the studio; it's healthy.”

“Ah yeah, thighs.” “Arms.”

Both of them look at each other and laugh, knowing Namjoon is probably thoroughly embarrassed at the comments flooding in from their comments

“I’ve had a random sweet tooth recently,” - Yoongi carries on, mentioning it without really thinking too much about it. “So have I; it is not like me.” - Hoseok agrees, shaking his head and not deeping it much either 

“I think we all have; maybe it's because we eat a lot of savoury, just having a sort of sugar craze.” - Yoongi gets a hum in reply before they fall into a short silence whilst Hoseok reads the rest of the comments

“Spoiler? Noo.”

About an hour later, Yoongi gets a call from Jimin and excuses himself momentarily, coming back and ending the live because he needs to be picked up, something about not being allowed to walk back home ‘especially not in this weather’.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Running into Jungkook and Jimin at the convenience store has become a semi-regular sort of thing; sometimes it's both, sometimes just one of them. Each and every time they insist on walking you home, even if you reassure them you’ll be fine at first, after a month it just sort of stuck; you’d leave the store and just walk; they know the way at this point. 

It’s ten minutes where you have meaningless conversations usually, just talking about this and that, interests, random stories—you get it. Even then, there are some topics you three kind of just silently avoid: packs, relationships, things like that. Of course there are opportunities where you all joke and push and tease each other over things related to them, but it never goes further than that.

You look forward to it; it's not like it's scheduled, or that you go at the exact same time every night down to the minute; you leave it down to chance, so do they. Just like tonight, already browsing the ramen as if you’ll choose something different from usual - you won’t; you never do. A smile settles on your face at the citrussy and floral scent that floods your nose; it's always cut with this underlying sort of woody musk. To put it into a singular word? Romantic. It's uniquely unisex really; the floral aspect is typically seen as feminine, but the citrus and musk add an addicting kind of masculinity to it all. If you breathe it in hard enough, there's even a little bit of vanilla underneath. Jimin. 

Just on cue, your earphone is gently removed from one ear, and spinning around, the culprit is right there with his hoodie over his head and a big smile, and he’s ready to make a half-sarcastic comment like ‘Fancy seeing you here’ as if this isn’t half expected on most of your visits now. 

“Fancy catching you here on this fine evening, sugar” - Jimin giggles out, just as expected, having stepped back to give you distance rather than be right in your face, and the gentle shove you give him at the nickname only makes him laugh a little harder. Like I said, the nickname stuck. 

“Jimin” - You practically sigh out, not the annoyed kind, the warm sort of sigh. He’s a joy to be around; if you could compare how it feels to be with him on these nights, it’s like the warm breeze on a summer’s night, even if it’s just entering spring and the nights are still particularly cold. Jungkook’s company on these nights would be something a little colder, equally as comforting. It's what you imagine riding a motorcycle or a convertible car would feel like in the spring: wind cold but the exhilarating rush you’d get from it enough to keep you feeling just a little warmer. 

“The usual?” - Jimin questions, raising his eyebrows at you and standing beside you, looking at the selection; he likes a range of different ramens, rotating between them and trying something new every time. Sometimes he comments on them the next time you see each other, saying they were or weren't worth it, a silent suggestion, but in the few weeks he’s gotten to know you, he’s picked up that you don't really change your pick; you like what you like, and that's perfectly okay. 

“Hm, I don't know; I might try something different.” - But just like I said, you don't. Contemplate for just a few more moments and pick up that same ramen, Jimin already nodding and smiling knowingly as he picks out his own. You have said it before: the outcome is always the same. Maybe you say it more so for yourself; try to convince yourself you will differ from routine, but in the end you won't. 

After the usual chat you have with Mrs. Han, you both head outside and immediately begin to walk, talking about the last few days.

“Did you feel that?” - Jimin asks, wiping his head where a singular drop of water hit him, You're about 7 minutes in, just a few minutes from your apartment, a turn away from the road, and you frown in confusion before you feel it too, a few drops.

Within a moment, a mere few drops of rain turn into what you could consider a heavy spring shower. You're both in hoodies, no coat because whilst it's cold, it's not that cold. You look at each other in surprise for a moment, and your brain is moving 100 mph; you're hardly a 45-second sprint away from your apartment, versus Jimin, who would have to go a substantial distance to get back to the shop, let alone his home. It’s cold; he’s not wearing any rain clothing. You’ve come to a stop, and at this rate, the paths could get slippery fast; even if he did try to get home fast, you can guarantee he’d either catch a cold or slip, maybe both. You can’t let that happen—especially not when the whole reason he’s so far in the other direction is because he’s walking you home. 

You’ve come to a stop, and without a second more, your hoodie already beginning to soak through, you reach out, grabbing his wet hand and dashing in the direction of your apartment building, dragging him along. He lets out a surprised noise at being pulled so quickly and at the contact, but you’ve got one thing set in your mind, and that’s to get you both - more specifically him - out of the rain, and you do just that. 

You’re hardly sprinting, more so just doing a light jog and you kind of realise what you’ve instinctively done after you’ve already began 

“Come on!” - Maybe you can’t help the smile that settles on your lips, water splashing all around you both, and to the side of you, Jimin’s laugh rings through the air, amused; this is fun. 

He’s at your side now, more going at your pace than his own; you’re lightly jogging, he’s fast walking, and there’s not really a reason to keep holding his hand anymore. Despite that, he manoeuvres your hand, and you nearly pull it clean away in horror of yourself, but that's not what Jimin was going for; instead, he intertwines your fingers and picks up his pace a little, you following. 

Jimin’s laugh is contagious, yours following and cutting through the heavy downpour is both of you splashing with your running, holding hands and barely avoiding slipping, rain and laughter. 

Jimin’s hand is warm despite the cold air and rain, bigger than yours, and it envelopes you whole, and it’s nice, more than nice, having you giggling for a whole other reason besides the childlike situation you’re both stuck in. It seems more like you're both just playing in the spring shower rather than trying to get to shelter, entire outfits soaked through, but there isn't anything but bright smiles on your faces. 

When your building comes into view, you pull him a little faster up the steps, and without letting go of his hand, you punch in the code, ripping the door open and surprising him by pulling him into the hallway. 

You’re panting; he’s not. He’s used to physical activity, but he’s breathing a little heavier, your laughs hardly dying out in the silent hall. Rain’s hitting the clear door rapidly, blurring your view of the outside, and it’s only when you both calm a little that you realise just what you’ve done. 

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping just yet.” - You say, a little purse of your lips as you stare out, Jimin would of just booked it home; you wouldn’t have that

“Yeah, came out of nowhere.” - You look at him and contemplate; its surely inappropriate to suggest, but- you can’t just let him stay in soaked clothes, go back out and all of that 

“You’re going to catch a cold” - Your voice is laced with concern, not hesitation. 

“Ah, I’ll be fine” - Jimin brushes it off although he can feel his body start to shiver a little; you can feel it from his hand where you’re both still connected. He watches you stay silent for a moment, looking at the lift and then back at him, expression begging him not to take this the wrong way. 

“You can’t go back out there yet, and you need dry clothes” - You gently tug his hand towards the lifts, what you’re suggesting clear despite not directly saying it, but your pull is just enough to allow him to protest should he want to; your grip says different, holding on a little tighter like you really don’t want him to go back out there. Internally, you couldn’t suppress your instincts screaming at you to push him upstairs, order him into clean and warm clothes, and dry his hair; tell him to stay put until you’re certain it’s not going to rain any more tonight, but you can’t voice that, of course not. 

Jimin catches on and is shocked, to say the least. He makes a little noise but blindly follows your pull, not knowing just what to say yet until you're in the elevator and you're punching in your floor number. Thats when a stilling realisation settles in and Jimin turns to you in hesitation and a little bit of fear

“Wait- Y/n your pack- i cant come in to your pack den, what about-” - You still for a moment realising- oh right- he doesn't know; of course not. You can’t blame him for assuming; it’s certainly very rare, and you appreciate his thoughtfulness.

“It’s okay; it’s just me” - You nod and still give him the chance to protest again, but his face morphs into one of shock again, mouth agape for a little moment, and his mind spirals back to that first day, the rap line commenting and saying they didn’t think you had one but you were comfortable with that, and now it’s confirmed. Schooling his face back into one of only a little hesitation.

There are a few moments of silence between you before you grow a small blush on your face at how you've acted the last few minutes-—instinctual.

“Sorry for dragging you here like this” - You murmur out, not meeting Jimin’s eyes, but he doesn’t think you have a single thing to apologise for. Deep within him, his alpha is singing praises about you and you so clearly showing your need to take care of him; hes pushing all the little comments and thoughts about it right down to answer coherently 

“You dont have to apologise-—and, you dont have to do this, you know; it’s okay.” - Because he doesn’t want you to feel obliged to invite him in to a space so sacred, simply because the weather took a turn, doesnt want you to go against what you really want to do if this isn’t that

“Are you okay with it?” - You throw right back, bracing yourself for him to blatantly reject you, press the button to go right back down to the ground floor and leave, but that's not what happens. Instead, Jimin squeezes your hand in his-—oh, you hadnt realised you were still holding it- it causes you to look up at him and he gives you a sweet smile, the reassuring kind and firmly nods

“Only if you are” - And you are- you haven't known him all that long, really, so it's weird how you aren't at all against him being in your home-—where your nest is. You return his smile and nod.

Right on cue, the elevator dings, and you walk down the hall slowly, towards your apartment and then notice, opposite, there’s a package sitting outside Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s door, an elderly couple that maybe didn’t hear someone deliver it, and before going towards your own door, you walk to theirs. You know that Mr.Lee will still be awake at this time, so you tug Jimin with you and knock on their door. He just watches, curious, especially when the door opens after a few moments, revealing a man with grey hair, his face morphing into one that can only be described as joy and parental love when he finds it’s you. 

“Y/n! How are you, dear?” - He moves closer to embrace you only to notice you standing with someone he’s never seen before, an alpha, and raises his brows before breaking into a knowing smile.

“Finally found a nice boy, huh?” - You burn bright. Embarrassed and realising what it looks like, Jimin also smiles and giggles a little. Ah, he seems nice, Mr.Lee thinks, always open to giving his opinion without being asked; he's got good intuition.

“Oh! It’s not like that Mr.Lee-” - You scramble to answer and shake your head, eyes practically closed with your embarrassment, but Mr.Lee ignores your denial and visibly assesses Jimin. To break to the point, you reach down and hand him the package.

“This was outside the door” - You gently hand it over, and he merely gives you a smile before refocusing on Jimin. Jimin’s never felt more scrutinised in his life, wanting to shrink back a little but standing tall and confident, calm, and Mr.Lee nods at him approvingly.

“Thank you, dear- You better look after her; she's sweet, this one. Don’t even think about so much as putting even a small frown on her face.” He stands stern and points accusingly at Jimin; you scramble to shake your free hand and rattle the bag as you do so, mortified at his assumption and your quick to try and end this interaction

“Theres no need for that Mr.Lee-”

“I won’t” - Jimin replies to him despite your scrambling, and Mr.Lee is stone-faced for a second before nodding, believing him, and you are absolutely writhing with embarrassment.

“Have a nice night Mr.Lee, ill bring you both some cakes tomorrow morning.” - You mumble out, cheeks redder than they’ve ever been, and you turn as soon as you can, walking towards your own door as you hear Mr.Lee return his thanks and close his door.

“Im so sorry-”

“Stop apologising for things, Y/n, its okay” - Jimin lets out a little laugh, genuine; he really doesn’t mind. He guesses Mr. Lee holds you dear to his heart; that's good. You seem like a beacon of light no matter where you are and who you're with. 

“Aish…” - You mumble, entering the code to your own home and opening the door, shoulders visibly dropping once the comforting scent of your home fills your nose, and Jimin can barely get two steps in the door without freezing and inhaling deeply. Its you, everywhere, obviously but its so full of you- Your scent sweet, heavy, borderline suffocating but not in a bad way-

Your apartment is similar to your cafe in the vibe you create; appearance-wise, it’s similar but in a different palette, much more filled with pastels. Trinkets and sentimental items are doted around everywhere, pillows and blankets in every corner and its so cozy Jimin forgets he's standing there shivering until you tug him a little harder to close the door and then reluctantly drop his hand.

“You can-—uh, you can sit down if you’d like I’ll get some clothes for you” - You are barely a few seconds of being inside before you are dashing off down a small hallway, towards your room he guesses, mumbling something about the clothes your sure you have somewhere-

You didn’t rush off without gently pushing a hand flat on Jimin’s chest towards the couch, urging him to sit, but he gets a bit distracted by the contact, placing a hand where you had just pushed as if savouring your touch. He takes a second, looking at the couch and opting out of sitting on it because he's in wet clothes; he's not ruining your pretty and soft setup by getting it damp. He instead opts for one of the stools around your kitchen island—less mess. 

With the few minutes you disappear, Jimin takes in what's happening, what happened, where he is, and what this is. He finds himself slumping the more and more he breathes in your air; it's dizzying, unfiltered, unrestrained versus how you have always got a scent blocker on. 

Inside him, his alpha is growling in praise and delight, telling him he should absolutely do anything you want him to do before you even get a chance to request it—instincts pawing at him unrestrained—and he's so deeply embedded in his own mind that he only snaps out of it when you come back in mumbling about something before locating him, freezing in the hallway entrance at his scent flooding you again. 

Your push towards the couch was the start of your doting; you rushed off into your room-—your nest—and instantly pulled out a drawer in which you knew you kept a particular pair of fluffy pyjama pants, too long for you so you always had to roll them up a few times, but on Jimin, they could be just right. 

You’re petting over them, pursing your lips and your omegas checking the softness of the fabric. is it soft enough for an alpha in your home- You have to stop yourself in mortification as your next instinct is to scent the trousers-—rub it all over your cheek, your neck, your wrist, fluff your scent around you so its positively stuck onto it and presenting them on a platter to Jimin-—sweet, sweet alpha, so kind and polite and so perfect-

You refrain, barely. Refocusing to get another piece of clothing, one of your many oversized hoodies, one that you would wear to bed in the colder seasons and only that, long enough to cover you to your mid/lower thighs but maybe a better fit on Jimin. You’re once again fretting over the softness and whether it’ll be the right size; it’s thick enough to keep him warm, but your apartment is also on the warmer side anyway; you prefer it that way, sates your omega needs. 

Once again, you resist scenting them heavily even though they definitely smell like you already; being so close to your nest and all- you hardly look at it. Different from usual because when you get home, the first thing you seek out is your nest. A thought-—an image-—passes through your mind: You leading Jimin towards your nest and fluffing everything around him, making it all just right and looking at him for approval. Then you snap out of your omega haze and shake your head in disapproval of yourself, folding the two pieces of clothing and setting out back towards your main space in the apartment. 

Your living room and kitchen are open plan; you like it like that; the smell of your baking easily floods through the rest of the home that way. You’re expecting to see Jimin on the couch, where you’d urged him and when you dont find him there, but on a kitchen stool, your mind runs wild. A mixture of disapproval for him not being somewhere more comfortable but also approval for him being considerate of being in wet clothes - even though you wouldnt of minded having to put some blankets in the dryer after. 

Jimin himself is sitting silently there, not even looking around and his scent is flitting around you in small bursts, enough to stop you in your tracks and have to gulp - you don’t have people here often, your space is entirely filled with you but this, having him here is- okay? Nice even.

Enough of that, enough of your silly thoughts. You always do tend to overly get instinctual when your home- of course, its the only place you allow yourself to fully give in to it all so you cant be blamed for your thoughts. 

Jimin snaps out of it and looks at you with a soft smile, eyeing the clothes in your hands and he could protest- he could insist you really dont need to do this but he can see the instincts swimming in your eyes, has felt it since you grabbed his hand and started to pull him through the rain and something tells him to just oblige, let you dote on him and care because you need this.

“I have some clothes for you” - You look to the side, across the room where he notices another door, ignored in his dwelling of his thoughts and you silently command him to follow you towards it, which he does.

You open it, another bathroom; you have one connected to your room, and this one is rarely used-—bigger than yours but less convenient. It's stocked up with your products anyway: shampoo, conditioner, body washes, skincare, and fresh warm towels on the radiator. 

Jimin steps in slowly; this room doesn't smell as much like you, and it clears his head a little. He watches you gently place the pile of clothes on the counter by the sink and turn to him, never failing to shock him as you reach out for his hand, feel all over it, run the back of your own hand over it again, and frown. You’re assessing his temperature and come to a conclusion; it might be a little pushy.

“You can change in here but- you should really shower; your still cold. you need to warm up or your going to get a cold. theres products in the shower, towels just there and skincare in the cabinet- you dont have too, of course but- just-” - You go from talking calmly and slowly to panicking at the end, mentally scolding yourself for feeling like you're overstepping so many boundaries and Jimin won't have any of that; instead, he holds your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. He’s affectionate; he’s always been one of the touchiest in the group, and as much as he would love to wrap you in a hug, this is all he feels is right as of now.

“Thank you Y/n” - Its not dismissive; he's not forcing you away; he is simply appreciating your words and your fretting. You nod, turning away and speaking before you leave and close the door.

“Ill just be in my bathroom in my room- if you need anything, just shout” - He nods, and that’s enough to calm your instincts a little, even more so when you close the door and hear him turn on the shower. 

Now to shower yourself.

Jimin’s quick to undress, stripping away all of the wet clothes and running his hands through his wet hair, turning on the shower and setting it to just the right temperature, glad that it’s easy to work. He has to change it from what it was on - what he would consider to be scalding - down to something less hot; he can't imagine that's the temperature you shower with - it is. Inside is everything he needs: you have copies of your own products, the marshmallow shampoo and conditioner you use, and a mildly scented body wash because you have sensitive skin. There's an unscented face wash as well, from a brand he's familiar with. 

The heat of the water running down him is welcomed; he takes a second to just let it rush over him, warm his body before he reaches for the shampoo. He can't stop himself from taking a few deep inhales of the scent; it's sweet, sugary, a little creamy, and so aligned with you it's dizzying. Odd to think he's also going to be using it; he’ll end up smelling like you a little, and that's a thought he has to halt instantly because if he keeps thinking like that the rumbling in his chest is only going to increase. 

After finishing up, he wraps his waist in a towel, shaking off his hair in the shower so he doesn’t flick water everywhere, kind of like Jungkook does, like a dog, except Jungkook likes to do it just about anywhere and doesn’t really care when the droplets hit the people around him. There's a smaller towel that he uses to roughly dry his hair and when he's done, he considers what to do with his pile of wet clothes, pushing them to the side momentarily and picking up the clothes you set out for him, dry, warm and fluffy with your scent. 

Good lord, it's going to be hard to hold back the urge to bury his face in them before he can even get them on and then even harder to stop the purr-like sound falling from his throat. Alphas don’t typically purr; they do, however, get a similar kind of sound when they are satisfied; it’s more of a rumble and a sweetened growl, though. It would be embarrassing to do it- especially front of you—but it's harder and harder to contain when he gets the clothes on. Theres still a singular roll in the bottom of the trousers that he has to undo to fall over the length of his legs and they sit low on his hips, fluffy and comforting, hes sure hes actually seen you wear these before on one of your run-ins. The hoodie is thick and soft, fits just right, perfectly oversized on him versus the extra extra oversized fit on you. 

He picks up his towels, folding them alongside folding his wet clothes and taking a split moment before leaving, just as you also leave your own room. 

You smell calmer, less frantic and certainly more like yourself, what does make him nearly trip though is you’ve taken off your scent blocker patches, the scent hitting him full force and he curses low under his breath, taking a moment to feign composition. 

You walk towards the large window and look out, frowning at the still heavy downpour, it doesnt seem to be letting up just yet. You can be forgiven for not noticing Jimin was out just yet, he smells a little bit too much like you to notice until your heavy scent fluffs a burst of his own and you spin on your heel.

“Do they fit okay?” - You rush over, grabbing his hand once again, feeling his temperature as best you can and nodding in approval that hes a lot warmer, you miss the shaky breathing hes suffering with because of your scent in this kind of proximity. Like him, you have wet, towel dried hair and fresh clothes on.

“Yeah they fit, thank you” - Jimin barely gets out, biting the inside of his lip because after he tried to breath through his mouth rather than his nose it just got more intense its like he could taste your scent. Hes a bit breathless, you put it down to the temperatures you leave the shower on but he assures he worked it out just fine. Then you notice the pile in his hands and reach out, giving him the option to pass them over

“I can go put your clothes in the dryer if youd like?” - Once again, Jimin’s noticing your own instincts playing up, even him touching the wet clothes seems to mildly unsettle you, shifting as you wait for his answer. He hands them over, gently placing them on your hands as if they are heavy and you are fragile, they arent and you aren’t but he will still treat you as if you are. He watches you run off for a moment to go to the utility room, putting them in the dryer and ona  quick dry, they only smell lightly of him due to the rain but its enough to remind you of his addictive scent and you nearly stumble on your way there, quickly saved.

Jimin can finally breathe with you a little bit further away although he kind of does want to suffocate in your scent- who said that?!

“It’s not finished yet” - Is the first thing you say with a frown and your arms crossed over your hoodie clad chest, referring to the rain as you both look out and Jimin worries that hes overstaying his welcome before you turn to him and begin to talk again.

“I’ll have a look on the weather app” - Then as you are about to grab your phone, you look up and notice his wet hair, frowning and he follows your eyes, reaching up and wiping it out of his face, offering a confused smile at your obvious disapproval.

“Dry your hair, you’ll get a cold- ill get my hairdryer” - Jimin barely has a chance to retort and say that you also have wet hair right now- and a lot more of it than him before your spinning off again and returning with a hairdryer, plugging it in near your couch, he goes to protest.

“Its really fine sugar, i wont catch a cold” - You’re hardly phased by the nickname when you stare at him in horror as if hes actually just said something highly illegal- Two seconds later hes yelping in surprise when you push him with a hand on his chest to sit on the couch behind him and he can’t deny that he does sink into the cloud-like mountain of pillow and blankets awfully fast. 

“Nonsense, stay” - You point and it’s suspiciously similar to how you’d tell a dog to sit and he does look puppylike in the way he does exactly what you say, staying sat and wondering what your about to do until you round him, lifting the dryer and then hesitating. 

“Can i dry your hair?” - You hover, not touching his hair at all for a moment but something in Jimin’s heart is warm, beating loud and in his ears. His chest is starting to rumble again and he really cannot wait until you get that hair dryer on to hopefully cover the sounds threatening to erupt from his chest. Something distant in his mind, heavily praising you and saying things like ‘sweet omega, taking care’ 

“Sure, sugar” - He dips his head for you to reach easier and you gently reach out, touching the strands and nearly purring from how soft they are, hes got his natural hair right now, they’d decided on it for the comeback, everyone natural although he is missing his blonde hair, he knows its a lot softer and healthier this way. Its just been cut, the sides shorter and a little prickly-soft you’ll find. The top’s in those curtains that perfectly frame his face, before styling its always a little bit in his eyes. 

After getting a feel for how soft it is, you cant resist dipping your hands in, gently detangling it with your fingers from his scalp to the ends, you have to clear your throat to cover up your purr. Jimin’s struggling too, hes putty in your hands, holding a pillow between his fingers to resist holding you a little closer because hes always loved having his hair played with, it tingles a little when you come across a few knots, mumbling an apology and oh so carefully untangling them one by one. He doesn’t mind the gentle tugging, hes leaning into your hands more and more by the second until hes practically crouched over himself. 

You keep going until you’re able to run your hands through it over and over, pushing it out of his face and back, over and over- a few times more than necessary. You catch a glimpse of Jimin’s face everytime you do it, hes got his eyes closed, gulping harshly every few seconds and otherwise, his lips barely part, breathing a little shaky and you take his flurry of scent fluffing around you as a reward, a token of approval.

Noises of approval fall from your lips, letting out a little purr by accident and watching as he twitches, looking up at you from under his hair and the look in your eyes has you spinning- metaphorically and physically as you turn your back to him searching for the hairdryer and simultaneously trying to even your breathing because WHO could possibly not stop breathing and blushing if jimin looked at you like THAT?!

The hairdryer acts as a good mask for your purrs and Jimin’s approving growls, even if maybe you can both hear them underneath. You keep running your fingers through his hair as you dry it, a medium sort of heat just in case rather than the high setting you always use on your own hair. You know how he likes his hair by now, making sure to run your fingers through it over and over in the front to swoop it out of his face and form the pretty bangs. Its so soothing that Jimin nearly falls straight into you, having to jolt himself up a few times because- why is he sleepy? Why is he quite literally about to doze off right them under your hands and the flittering heat of the hairdryer- 

You don’t mind when he jolts up, simply carrying on at a new angle each time until you turn the hairdryer off, Jimin’s hair a fluffy, soft sort of pillow on his head- you could definitely nest with something this soft- maybe you should just drag Jimin himself to the nest- Okay thats enough. 

Jimin slowly sits up when he realises your done and have ran your fingers through it just a few more times, it sits nicely out of his eyes, fluffed up just the right amount and he’s looking at your own hair before you can unplug the hairdryer and shaking off his happy haze to stop you. 

“My turn now sugar” - You turn around in confusion when he’s looking at you like your the softest thing in the world, angelic in his eyes and this is all so strange- you have barely known eachother over a month- what even is this?! You go to protest but he shushes you, gestures for you to take his spot and you do, getting a bit shy because you never have people do things like this for you and as he’s about to reach out and reciprocate, you reach for his wrist and stop him, words muddled on your tongue; maybe its just a try for you to brace yourself, maybe not

“It’s- it’s probably a lot more tangly than yours.” - Jimin looks at you pursing your lips and eyebrows furrowing, so clearly hesitating and he melts all over again. he retracts his hand and gives you a moment, voice so soft as if your a wounded animal

“Its okay; i dont have too if you’d rather i dont.” - And maybe thats all you needed to hear because it gives you the confidence to nod, dropping your head and Jimin pushes away the very small voice of his alpha singing your praises for dropping your head like that to him like omega’s do when showing their trust, saying you’re not doing it in that way

“I’d like you too” - Since your words are merely a murmur, Jimin doesn’t push you to talk any further. Gently separating your hair down the middle and into two sides, you ran some leave-in conditioner through it, but it might still be tangled. The first touch of Jimin’s fingers to your scalp almost makes you preen, resting your mouth on your hand, disguised as just slumping and comfortable, but it’s really to try and mask any reaction you have. 

Jimin purposefully is as gentle as possible, scratching over your scalp gently and repeating what you did for him, running his fingers through your hair until there's not a single knot; it's a lot longer, a lot lot longer than his, but that only makes him more careful. You are toe-to-toe; he can feel you wiggling them in happiness against his own, and it’s more than enough reassurance to carry on. You had already brushed it earlier, so it only takes a few passes to just get the few. 

Getting the hairdryer started and beginning has you in a very similar state to Jimin just a minute ago, eyes closed, breathing slow and deep; you haven’t had something like this since you were a child, always preaching your independence. That's why your purrs, louder than the hairdryer can be, are excused easily; you can hear Jimin giggling in joy and cooing over the softness of your hair, but it’s almost distant, barely feeling too conscious when he finishes. Minutes of drying had felt like a mere few moments, and you slowly blink back to reality. 

Jimin still keeps his finger detangling your hair after; it's only been 10 minutes start to finish from your hair to his, but it feels like it's been hours- friendly intimacy you tell yourself, right?

Busying yourself when he finishes is easier than confronting your currently hazy state, thanking him for doing it, and he recirprocates with a half-flirty comment about loving you playing with his hair that you know is only light-hearted. 

“You must be hungry- you’d be home by now” - Your voice sounds distant to your own ears. The worry shown by the little crease between your brows makes a similar expression settle on his own face. He wants to wipe it right off

Then, without him getting a chance to respond, you remember you’d obviously both gone to get food, and there are two plastic carrier bags on the kitchen island containing ramen and gimbap. It’s still pouring; he can’t possibly get back yet, and after you’d checked the weather, it was meant to calm down in around half an hour to forty five minutes, you had told him, and he’d nodded, not rushing to leave and you can hardly have him going hungry-—what kind of hospitality would that be? What kind of omega would you be?

“Would you like me to cook your ramen for you? I mean, I'm definitely not as good with cooking as baking, but I make a mean instant ramen” - You laugh out, trying to cover the fact that this feels awfully domestic and so intimate you could just melt. Jimin returns your laugh and wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, with a brief comment of ‘I bet you can,’ not at all a flirty kind of response, but he just makes it one with his tone.

He nods, thanks you, and although he feels he should at least help and not make you do it all, you have somehow accumulated a habit of pushing his chest and stunning him momentarily, enough to push him to sit and let you do it.

You aren't lying; you do make a mean instant ramen. Soft boil a few eggs to go with it, just right so that they pop when cut in half but aren't too gooey. Plating it up in the cups just because, and in 10 minutes you’re back and smiling to yourself at how Jimin’s sunk into the couch, sleepily blinking, your omega clawing within you in self-praise, happy you’ve aided him to get to this kind of state. Warm, dry, comfortable, and about to have a full belly.

Jimin practically moans when he tastes his ramen, claiming you make it better than he ever has, both of you munching away on ramen and gimbap. You both chose spicy versions; it plumps Jimin’s lip an almost anime-like red plush, and he sniffles at one moment-—you freeze.

You take his sniffling as him already developing a cold even though your rational brain knows you're also sniffling and it's only from the ramen. You try to keep eating, but you seem cautious, something to say or do lingering in your movements, and when Jimin picks up on it, you don't know how, but he just knows.

“I don’t have a cold; it’s just spicy- here, try” - It does well to distract you along with calming you, but you do look at him like he’s just done something absolutely obscene when he holds out a bite of his ramen on his chopsticks for you, hand under to stop them from getting on your couch or you; he laughs at your expression, but you open your mouth and lean in either way, trying them. They are sweet, savory and- spicy, so spicy that your eyes pop out and you look at him in terror- He’s in a fit of giggles that are music to your ears, throwing his head back and you’d hardly taken notice of the gesture of him feeding you and you sharing chopsticks-

“How do you even eat that! That’s going to burn my tastebuds off! Try mine its nothing like that-” - You get out between taking deep breaths to try and cool your mouth and eating a bite of gimbap, gathering a good bite on your ramen, repeating the gesture and Jimin leans in instantly, humming in approval at the taste but still half-giggling at your reaction

“They’re good! You sound like Taehyung” - He gets out after swallowing, nearly finishing his ramen now, same with you.

“Well, Taehyung is right because that is spice from the burning pits of hell, and I like spice!” - You near shout at him, still shocked and appalled, just as you finish and he’s once again giggling. Jimin reaches out and wipes your lip, a little bit of the ramen sauce still on it, feeling over your lip and bringing it back and into his mouth as if it's nothing. You’re frozen; he’s nonchalant about it, carrying on and laughing at your expression, and then you shove another bite into your mouth, blaming your flaming cheeks on his ridiculously spicy choice. Did he really just do that? Wipe off sauce from your lip and then lick his finger off after?! He’d darted his tongue out to do it past his puffy red lips and then just acted like nothing!

He’s driving you a little crazy, and it forces your sweetened scent out in a flutter so strong Jimin nearly choked, the kind of scent that you’d talked to Dr.Kim about. Then you’re embarrassed and mortified at yourself and don’t say a single word about it, neither does Jimin, maybe taking a lot deeper inhales of your scent than he’ll admit, feeling ravenous despite having just eaten an entire meal. It’ll replay in both of your minds, a whole lot more than you are both willing to admit.

The weather app lied. It always does. That half an hour to forty-five minutes? Lies. An hour rolls around, and both of you are stuffed full of food, warm, comfortable, and positively about to doze off when you murmur out.

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping.”

Jimin agrees; the idea of leaving is kind of painful. he hasnt been this comfortable in days but he knows he cant overstay his welcome; cant intrude when your eyes are droopy and he knows your nest is just a door away and that you're probably begging to get in and have some alone time - if only he knew your omega has been nagging at you to invite him in since he got here. That makes him pause because he hadn’t really clocked that oh- oh. Your nest is just in the other room, so close, and you’ve been okay with him staying here so far? In fact, with a quick glance, he realises the door isn't pushed shut to your room; there's a slight crack open, and he can briefly see piles and piles of blankets and pillows when he squints before relocating his sight as if he were burnt. 

He is not letting his alpha fall down that rabbit hole of thoughts- although it already began, still singing praises about you and your instinct, about how well you took care of him, about how amazing of an omega you would be to the pack- He shuts his brain off quick at that one. 

“I’ll call Yoongi and see if he can pick me up so I am out of your hair.” - It’s light-hearted how it comes out, but he has to clear his throat, and there’s this little tone of disappointment that makes you internally whine, or more specifically, your omega whines and begs for you to make him stay, but you know you can’t. Instead, you offer a little comment to try and soften that disappointment.

“You’re not a burden, Jimin, I mean it.” - Jimin’s eyes flick to you so fast you’re sure he should get some sort of pain from the motion; he deflates, a breath falling out that he didn’t know he was containing, but he isn’t deflating from being upset; much the opposite, what you say soothes him, wraps around him, and its words that he doesn’t often hear but always worries about. You don’t know it, but he really wants to scoop you up and hold you so tight you can barely breathe.

Your smile is genuine and telling, he returns it right back, still picking up his phone to call Yoongi but with far less haste. You give him a moment, going to the utility room and opening your dryer, gently folding Jimin’s clothes; they smell briefly of your laundry from the dryer sheet you put in, and you’re glad they don’t smell like rain at all. Now that they are dry, you can appreciate the fabrics he chooses, running your fingers over them, internally cooing and externally nodding from the softness. Your omega’s dancing around, saying something similar to praise about it being soft enough for his skin and thick enough to keep him warm, but you try to ignore it. 

So strange, your omega's been nagging and giving far more comments and pushes to your actions than ever; maybe it's just because you're at home. 

Jimin calls Yoongi in the other room, telling him he got stuck in the rain and needs to be picked up. Yoongi panics, asking where he is and how long hes been stuck, saying he needs to get to some sort of shelter, but Jimin cuts him off. Tells him he's okay, he's at yours, he's dry and safe, but he just doesn't want to stay too long when he knows you should rest. Yoongi is… shocked to say the least, jealous? Bamboozled? Filled with questions. He’ll hold off to ask though; he asks him to drop a pin on his location and says he will leave now.

He doesn’t go without leaving a comment about how he needs to thank you and keep well away from your nest, and- he goes on and on, but Jimin hangs up when he hears you leaving the utility room. 

You walk over, a timid sort of smile on your face, and you don’t even notice how you’re still lightly running your fingers over the fabrics over and over, but Jimin does. It fills him with a sort of sense of pride, of reassurance that he has surely picked out well, and his recent attention to his clothes and fabrics is appreciated by someone else. By an omega. By you.

“They smell good” - He claims, taking a big inhale of them, still warm too.

“Is this you trying to compliment your own scent?” - You tease, knowing fully well he means the scent of the dryer sheet sticking to them “I mean- are you saying it's worth complimenting?” - He pushes right back, tilting his head in curiosity, a smirk pulling at his lips

“Don't get all sassy now” - You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, and he breaks into a big smile. Unfortunately for you, Jimin doesn’t mind being sassy. 

“Awwww you do, dont you, sugar?” - Teases and teases, standing up and over you, cooing and walking a little closer just to keep it up

“Mines better.” - You roll your eyes again; now your the one acting sassy. a small smirk as you think it’ll end there, with you winning

“I’ll agree there.” - Oh, now you're silent. Silenced. Okay Jimin won.

On cue, Yoongi sends Jimin a message saying he's outside. Jimin frowns a little, and you barely catch it before he's schooling his face into a small smile again. 

“Yoongi’s here” - You try to hide the disappointment on your own face; your omega is clawing and clawing at you. Make him stay; ask him for a few more minutes. You dont

“I’ll walk you down” - Jimin nods, going towards the door and then looking down, guilty and giving you a sheepish smile because he’s still in your clothes

“I’ll get one of the boys to return them to you if I don’t see you first” - He rubs the back of his neck and looks so sweetly awkward it’s amusing; you break into a full laugh at his confident and sassy exterior breaking. 

“Come on, don’t keep Yoongi waiting” - You get through your laughs, subconsciously reaching for Jimin’s hand and intertwining your fingers all over again, barely holding back a gasp after you realise what you’re doing, but the smile Jimin can’t contain is worth it, especially when he squeezes your hand so you can’t pull away, and you both begin your comfortable but short journey downstairs. 

You can see Yoongi’s car pulled right up to the door, looking out of his window after a moment and through the glass. He has a clear view because it's bright in the hall; it's pitch black outside. 

Jimin and you walk to the door together, hand in hand still, swinging them a little and not stopping your conversation until you come to a halt. Jimin purses his lips; it looks like he's contemplating something, and before you can pull away, he holds onto your hand a little tighter and pulls you flush against his chest. Arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and after a moment of shock, yours move up and around his neck. It's an intimate hug, a warm embrace filled with thousands of unspoken words, and you stay like that for a good 30 seconds. 

You’re certain Jimin can feel your chest vibrating with silent purrs; he’s so warm, so comforting. His breath is hitting the top of your head where he leans down a little and rests his chin onto your hair. You’ve never had a hug so perfect, he’s certain, arms tight, yours are the same, and your bodies are flush against eachother. Your breathing is a little shaky, and so is Jimin’s, his scent so heavy and thick around you that you’re sure your knees are trembling a little and everything feels a little slow; you’re melting. Thinking he can only feel the vibrations of your purrs is wrong because he can hear them; this close he can hear them, and he's reciprocating his own kind back to you. 

He doesn’t let go to speak to you, not one bit.

“Thank you…” - His voice is so soft it feels like he's singing it to you, hanging heavy and breathy over you. You somehow know he’s not just talking about your basic hospitality, that maybe this situation spoke to him like it spoke to you, although you can’t decipher what exactly that means. 

You don’t need to say anything in return; he doesn’t expect you to. You slowly let go of each other, one final shaky breath between you two before he walks and opens the door, glad that the small cover over the entrance is enough to shelter him to get into Yoongi’s car. Standing there, you watch until they slowly pull away, sharing a heavy glance with Yoongi.

Inside the car, they begin silent; Jimin’s in some kind of bliss, melting back into the seat, head tilted back a little and eyes closed.

“Tell me.” - Yoongi says, and underneath the calm exterior he tries to push, there's a sort of excitement, a jealousy, a curiosity that would have his leg bouncing had he not been driving. You’re doing something to all of them, fast, and you probably don’t even see it.

Ahhhhhh i hope you all enjoyed todays chapter. I mean, i loved it but im biased cos i wrote it...

Thank you so much for reading as always!

My asks are open of course!

Lmk if youd like to be added to the taglist x

Mwah 💖

ཐི♡ཋྀ

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[dragoncopper]

Nutmeg Chapter One

TITLE: Nutmeg

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Reader (dom/sub)

SUMMARY: Due to really bad anxiety, you sign up at an agency that matches you with a dominant partner. 

WARNINGS: 18+ DOM/SUB. No sex in this chapter. Anxiety, meeting each other, rule discussion. (Let me know if I need to add something)

WORD COUNT: 2814

Nutmeg MASTERPOST | Chapter 2

@chey-h

You follow the instructions printed on a red piece of cardboard down halls and up stairs.  The twisting feeling inside your gut makes you feel nauseous and shaky and while your whole brain is telling you, without uncertainty, that this was a stupid idea, you keep walking.

You reach the door with the black number 36 painted on it and take a deep breath, before you take the key you were given and unlock it. 

You place the key on the small table right by the door as per instructions.

Before you step fully into the room, you look around.  The room is surprisingly normal, in fact there was not a single indication of the room’s intent.  It could be mistaken for a boring old hotel room, easily.  You take a few steps while taking stock of your surroundings further.  There was a large bed with white sheets and red accent colours present in the decorative cushions and extra blanket placed at the end of the bed.  The curtains were a deep red and seemed to be made of a heavy, thick material.  The carpet was thick and lush, a cream colour.

You take off your shoes.  It was one of the instructions.  It also would have made you uncomfortable walking on a carpet that colour with shoes on.

There is one door, you walk over to confirm that it is a bathroom.  Also red and white. 

 You shake the cardboard still in your hand in nervousness, then read the instructions further. 

The blanket at the end of the bed had to be thrown open across the carpet in the open space in the room.  After that you remove your jacket and jeans.  The only items of clothing you were allowed were panties, a bra and a plain black vest.  You untie your hair.  You put your clothes in the bag you brought along and leave it near the door.

After that, you had to find a blindfold that was left on one of the white pillows.  A simple mask that covered your eyes and went around your head with an elastic, almost like a sleeping mask. 

You were to sit on the middle of the red blanket on the floor with the blindfold in place.

Once you are seated, it only takes a few minutes for the shakiness to come back.  If you had something to do, you were distracted.  But now you were just sitting.  Alone.  Waiting.

You can feel your heart beating and there was a sense of tightness and dread that was filling your chest.  This was a mistake.  A crazy mistake.  Yet, you did not get up to leave.  You were free to.  But you stayed right where you were.

While you wait, you think of the extensive process you had to go through to get to this point.  An enormous rabbit hole led you to the agency that pairs you up with an ideal ‘partner’. 

First there was a lot of privacy paperwork – no photos, no digging, no posts on the internet – any violation will end the contract you signed immediately, and if it was taken too far could result in legal action.  You were happy with this; you valued your privacy also.

Secondly, all-embracing forms filled in about your personality, preferences, limits, experience.  All of this to the point where just filling in the forms felt too personal.  But you submitted these forms anyway.

Photos were taken of you (strictly for office use).  You had to pass a medical exam.  You had to hand in a shirt you have slept in for three nights. 

After weeks of waiting, you received an envelope via courier.  Inside were two profiles for you to review.  The agency matched you with candidates based on all your information, someone they are sure you would have the most success with.  Out of the matches, candidates then may choose for themselves.  The two profiles you received were of two people who chose you – now you had to pick. 

This was a very attractive feature to you.  Everyone was willing, everyone had a choice, everyone knew what they were walking into.  Everyone had the option to terminate the agreement at any time for any reason.  This was why the first meeting had to take place at the agency itself.  To ensure both parties’ safety, for neutrality and to make termination, should someone choose it, easy and controlled.

You were confident in your choice.  So why were you finding it so difficult to inhale?

You hold your breath when you hear the door open.  You hear nothing but the door, how it clicks closed and then the key in the lock.  The key being placed back on the table.

Soft footsteps coming closer, the rustling of someone’s weight on the bed.  Oh shit.

You felt scared, exposed and nervous.

‘You followed the instructions well.’ 

You let out the breath when you hear the deep voice, the words spoken very softly and calmly.  You decide not to respond. 

‘You are nervous.’  It’s not a question.  ‘I can see your hands shake.’

You fold your hands together, trying to stop the shaking.

‘It’s alright to be nervous,’ he continues.  ‘You don’t have to hide it from me.’

In response you relax your hands, or try to.

‘Hmm, let’s take a moment before we go through the preliminaries.’ 

You hear him move and you think he might be sitting on the floor in front of you, but you are not sure. 

‘I want you to sit up straight,’ he waits until you do so.  ‘Place your hands on your knees, palms up,’ he waits.  ‘And now, you are going to breathe.  Listen carefully.  Breathe in slowly through your nose and hold it a little, then breathe out through your mouth.  As slowly as you can.’

You swallow thickly through the nerves, and then you do as you were told.  As you inhale as deeply as you can, you hear him breathe with you.  He follows your lead and lets you set the pace.  Breath after breath you feel your brain calm down, your muscles relax a little. 

‘Good,’ he comments.  ‘Keep going.  You’re doing well.’

It grounds you, the combination of the extra oxygen and his reassuring voice.  You keep breathing.  Through the inhales and exhales you tell yourself that it’s okay, that you are safe, that you made this decision for a reason.  You’re okay.

‘Alright,’ he breaks the silence.  ‘I’m going to go through the guidelines provided by the agency with you.  If you feel nervous again, you just start the breathing again.  Do you understand?’

You nod.

‘Please answer out loud,’ he instructs quietly.

‘I understand,’ you say and your own voice sounds strange to you.

‘Good,’ he says and then he takes his time before he speaks again.  ‘There aren’t many, but it’s important we discuss them thoroughly.’

You sit in the silence and wonder whether you were supposed to answer or acknowledge, but he does not prompt you, so you keep quiet.

‘Participants are encouraged to keep personal details private until both parties explicitly agree to the sharing of details,’ he reads it slowly and clearly.  ‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ you respond.

‘For now, this stays in place for both our safety.  Do you agree?’

‘I do.’

‘We will contact each other through the agency app for now.  However, we need something to call each other.  We do not know names, and I think we keep it like that.’

You nod, and then say, ‘Okay.’

‘Do you have a preference?’ he asks.

You think for a moment, and nothing comes to mind.  ‘No.’

‘Alright, I actually mostly prefer real names, but for now let’s do ‘N’ for me.  Is that fine with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I’ve thought maybe ‘Peach’ for you?  It’s cute, not too personal and not degrading.  Is that alright?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s important that you tell me if you do not agree,’ his tone of voice stays calm. 

‘I’m fine with everything you’ve said so far,’ you answer.

‘Alright.  Good.’  You hear the scratching of a pen on paper.  ‘Next one.  Participants are encouraged to discuss a safe word before any proceedings.  Further rules about safe words should be agreed upon beforehand.  Clarity on both sides are very important.’  You hear him shift a little bit.  ‘You were instructed to have a safe word ready.  Have you chosen one?’

‘Yes, it’s nutmeg.’

‘Good,’ he says and you hear him writing.  ‘A safe word means a hard stop.  Absolutely everything stops immediately.  Is that fine with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Some people have a lot of other methods, but I like to keep things simple.  With the exception of the safe word, I am happy with you just telling me what you need,’ he says all of this slowly.  ‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you repeat it back to me, so I am sure you understand?’ he asks.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly.  ‘I can tell you what I need, we don’t need a code.  But the safe word is a hard stop.’

‘Good,’ he says.  ‘Do you understand then how important it is that you are honest with me about your needs?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you understand that you will have to speak up to let me know about your needs, even if I don’t ask?’

‘Yes,’ you nod along to try and make sure he knows you understand. 

‘Good.  Are you still doing alright?’  he asks, slight concern there.

‘Yes.’

‘You see, I don’t think you are being honest.  Your hands are beginning to shake again.’

You hear him move again and you have a moment of fear shoot through you.  You do not say anything.

‘Hey,’ he whispers.  ‘It’s alright.  Let’s breathe again.  Come on, deep, slow breaths.’

You do it, but your breath shakes a little. 

‘There you go, you are doing a good job.  Keep going.’

You feel your heart rate slow down again, and it feels like you are back in your body again. 

‘Keep breathing while you listen, please,’ he waits for you to take two more breaths.  ‘You have to answer honestly when I ask you a question.  So, take a moment before you answer.  I can’t take care of you if I don’t know what’s going on.  Do you understand?’

His voice remained so calm.  You nod through the breathing.

‘I know we don’t know each other, but you do not have to be afraid of me.  I will not do something you do not consent to.  Is that clear?’

‘Yes.’ 

‘Alright,’ you hear him take a deep breath with you.  ‘Ready for the next one?’

You nod, and you keep breathing.

‘Participants are encouraged to communicate clearly about all the rules before any acts begin.  This communication should ideally happen before every interaction.’ 

Your breathing starts to slow down as you are less anxious.  You wait for him to continue.

‘This goes for both of us,’ he says.  ‘Anything the other one must know, like if you are not feeling well, or are in any pain, you know, something like that.  Your mental state at the time.  I will tell you about anything you need to know.  We will also discuss any expectations and anything else that is applicable to the moment.  It’s difficult to be very precise with this one, but the gist is clear and honest communication.  Are you fine with this?’

‘I am,’ you answer, and again he writes something down.

‘They have a list of example rules here,’ he says and you hear paper shuffling.  ‘I don’t think we need to go through all of them.  I will give you the list and you can go through it and let me know if there’s anything that appeals to you.  But for now, I don’t want to complicate things.’

 ‘Thank you,’ you say this and then realise how much you meant it. 

You hear him get up and walk across the room to the door.  ‘I am leaving the list here on the table.’  He walks back towards you.  ‘Alright, I think we can start.’

You immediately take a deep breath again and start the exercise.

‘Good girl, do the breathing whenever you need it.  But there’s nothing to be scared of.  The only time I am going to touch you is now, when I offer you a hand to help you up.  I want you to lay on the bed, please.’

You lift a hand, and he takes it and then he steadies you as you stand.  He guides you towards the bed.  ‘You can sit there,’ he waits.  ‘Now climb on the bed and lay down anywhere you feel comfortable.’

It was very disorienting, but you take your time scooting backwards and you eased yourself down.  You keep breathing.

‘You may tell me anything at any time you want.  Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well done,’ you hear a slight smile in his voice.  ‘You’ve indicated on your paperwork that you struggle with anxiety a lot.  Is that so?’

‘Yes,’ you say.  You wonder if he is just standing next to the bed. 

‘It must have been scary coming here today then.  Actually following through?’

‘Very scary,’

‘I’m glad you did,’ he pauses a moment.  ‘We are just going to do some relaxation tonight.  I want you to ask me if there’s anything about this arrangement that is making you anxious.’

‘I will.’

‘Right, please start by relaxing your legs, you are keeping them clenched together.  Keep breathing.’

You let go of the tension in your legs.

‘What made you choose me?’ he asks.  The question caught you by surprise.  ‘There is no reason to worry, I just want to understand.’

You remember your instruction to be honest.  ‘It said you were soft-spoken.’

‘Oh,’ he reacts and you wonder whether that had been as strange thing to say.  ‘Now concentrate on relaxing your shoulders, please.’

You try, you kind of roll your shoulders and just get the muscles to let go.  You also pay attention to your legs that have tensed up again. 

‘Is it difficult?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ you keep trying.

‘Your jaw?  Try to relax that also,’ he adds more to your to do list.   

He waits a little bit, giving you a moment to achieve what he asked for, but you were really having a hard time, like your muscles just wouldn’t listen to your brain.  Once you’ve managed to get your shoulders dropped, your jaw was tense again and it kept cycling like this.

‘You are having trouble, aren’t you?  I think I am going give you some homework.  I want you to do the breathing exercise during this coming week whenever you feel the need, and then I want you to write down where it happened and if you know, why it happened.’

“I can do that,’ you say.

‘If you are in a position where you have to wait before you can do it, you do it as soon as you are able.  I want both of us to understand your anxiety better,’ he sounds like he is thinking deeply about this.  ‘Now, I want you to tell me about at least one thing about this situation that makes you anxious.’

‘Making me anxious right now?’ you ask for clarification.

‘Yeah,’ he replies.

‘The list by the door,’ you answer quite quickly.  ‘I don’t want to look at it.’

He takes a moment before he says.  ‘That’s not a problem, I’ll take it away.  Can you tell me why?’

‘I want you to choose,’ you say quietly.

‘Aaah, I get it,’ he takes a deep breath himself.  ‘I should have known that.  Thank you for being honest.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t apologise.  I need honesty remember?  You did good,’ you hear him get up and you presume he is taking the paper away.  ‘One more thing for homework; I want you to tell me next time one thing you require from me physically.’

You feel yourself blush.

‘We are going to explore a lot.  But I want to make sure I start in the right place,’ he explains.

‘I understand.’

‘I want you to communicate with me on the app if there’s anything urgent I need to know.  However, it is not your job to initiate a conversation or anything like that.  You should not feel any anxiety about it at all.  Am I clear?’

‘You are,’ you answer him.

‘Good, now you are going to try and relax as much as possible, fall asleep if you have to.  There is an alarm that will wake you when the time is up.  I am going to sit here and breathe with you.  I will leave five minutes before the alarm, I’ll be as quiet as I can.’

‘I’ll try,’ you nod.

‘I think we are going to work well together, Peach.’

Chapter 2

[littlecreampuffbirdi]

Fruitful Peaches

DISCONTINUED

Hybrid Poly!TF141 x Pregnant Human!Reader

*After your ex left you due to you getting pregnant, you turned to your friend, Kyle, for help. *Warnings: pregnancy trope

Chapter 1 | Previous-Next

|-----------------------------------------------|

You sat in front of your friend, Kyle, at a small cafe. You hadn’t seen him in a while and the both of you had much to tell each other.

“It’s great to see you again, Kyle.” You rubbed your thumb along your glass. “But, um, I need some help.”

“Help with what?”

“I’m pregnant, my ex walked out, and I don’t know what to do.”

Well, that certainly stunned the man. Humans were rare in this world of hybrids and, as such, the government banned them from getting abortions unless medically necessary.

“He left? Does—“ Kyle pinched his nose bridge— “he even know that you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah, it’s why he left. Kyle, please. I need help. I don’t know how I’m going to manage work and a baby. Plus I need a place to stay since he kicked me out.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “I know I’m asking for a lot.”

The German Shepherd sighed before grabbing your hand gently, humans were so fragile compared to his kind. “You can stay with me. I’ll ask my mates.”

“Mates? As in lovers?”

“Yeah. I was hoping to introduce you to them anyways.”

“I see… are they dog hybrids too?”

“Hybrids, yes, but not dogs.” He pulled out his phone, showing you a picture of him and his mates. “John is a brown bear, Johnny is a ferret, and Simon is an owl.” His tail wagged as he showed you them.

“Where did you meet all of them at?”

“Work.”

You stared long and hard at the man. “Okay, you know what? I’m not even going to question it.”

Then you went on to tell him about your relationship with your ex. It wasn’t abusive per se, but it was toxic. You tried discussing boundaries and what the two of you would do if you did end up pregnant— he told you to just go on birth control to avoid it, which you never did, not like it would have been 100% protection anyways.

“You have awful taste in men,” Kyle finally commented.

“What? Like yours is any better?”

“Yes. They’re much better.”

“Guess I’d have to see for myself then.”

Long story short, Kyle’s taste in men was better. They were welcoming, understanding. While Simon was essentially a brooding shadow, John was more than welcoming and Johnny was very energetic.

“Dinnae worry, we’ll take care of ya.” His tail fluffed up as he helped set up your room. He practically bounced around you and Kyle, only for Kyle to lead him away whenever he got too close to practically jumping on you.

"Thank you, again, for helping me."

Kyle placed his hand on your shoulder, slightly rubbing you with his thumb. "No worries, stay as long as you need to."

Kyle very quickly left your side when Johnny tried picking up the dresser to move it.

"You're still healing," Kyle hissed out. "You are supposed to take it easy."

"Ah'm fine."

"No, you're fucking not."

You watched as Kyle struggled with Johnny, trying to get the ferret hybrid to rest. Kyle eventually pried him away. “Why don’t you show y/n around? I can rearrange the room.”

Reluctantly, Johnny did so, mumbling about being treated like a fragile princess or something. John and Simon had left earlier to go and grab some stuff for you, mainly crib. Which you did promise to pay back later, but they told you not to worry about it.

The house was big, not in the sense of a lot of rooms, just that everything was huge. Not that you were surprised though. Hybrids were bigger than humans, so majority of things that weren’t human-made were big.

“Was yer ex human or a hybrid?” Johnny suddenly asked.

“Human, thankfully.” You were always weary of getting into relationships with hybrids due to how they often craved having offspring and how birthing hybrids’ children were hard on humans. Just too many complications, really.

“Lucky.”

The front door creaked open and Simon and John walked in. Johnny very happily greeted them as they carried a boxed crib inside. You thanked them again after they putted the crib together.

John smiled at you, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “It’s no problem, lass. You’re a friend of Kyle, so you might as well be ours.”

Oh, boy, how you didn’t know the true meaning behind his words.

[simpxxstan]

Nobody Else (final: part 2)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), arranged marriage, a lot of angst, and some fluff.

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 22.8k

warnings: angst warnings: overthinking, anxiety, a lot of it. spiralling, constant worries, mention of insomnia. mention of illnesses and a lung tumour, hospitals, medical treatments, relapse. discussions about death. please do not read if you find these triggering! a lot of arguing and usage of profanities. mention of smoking, drinking, food.

smut warnings: oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart, princess, baby for female), degradation, usage of sir (for male), sir kink, marriage kink, breeding kink, office sex, elevator sex, sex in a public place.

a/n: OH MY GOD. so many people were waiting for this, i can't even imagine. i've had some really tough months when i could not find time to write at all, so i am very sorry for the delay. well, here you go! i hope it meets your satisfactions! putting the taglist in a reblog because the fanfic itself is massive. please let me know your thoughts!! reblogs, comments and asks are so appreciated <3 thank you for reading!

part 1

You bite your nails nervously. You do this often, it’s a habit you mask well through regular manicures at your home. No one knows about it. No one needs to know. 

You’ve tried it all in these last two days, you swear. You’ve tried every trick on the web- listing the pros and cons of your thoughts on a sheet of paper (on your phone’s notes app), venting to someone (yourself in the mirror), meditation, drinking wine and unwinding in a bathtub, listening to white noise to help you sleep. 

It doesn’t help. Nothing does. Nothing helps to erase the thoughts from your mind, nothing helps to stop the cogs and wheels of the gears turning in your head, nothing helps to drown out the noise of your overthinking. You’ve worried yourself to a fever, and it’s on the fourth day that Jisung caves in and asks you, “Ma’am, are you doing okay?”

You can trust him, you know that. He had, after all, not outed your antics to your mother in spite of her attempts at bribing him with a higher salary. He had remained loyal to you, as he had himself confirmed when you’d brought up the issue with him the day after the fateful lunch invitation. 

But he feels too close, too personal, and yet too distant. He would understand, and yet nothing at all. It feels like a gamble.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” You smile, while popping another paracetamol. At least the fever and its meds help you sleep. 

“You don’t look like yourself. I don’t know if I am in a position to say this, but… is this about the thing your mother discussed with you Ma’am?”

“Are you reading my mind, Jisung-ah? Is that your secret to being the best secretary in the world?” You chuckle drily, staring outside the glass window that makes up a wall in your office. It’s a rainy day, not the stormy kind, but the pestering kind. Where it drizzles light enough that people don’t want to carry umbrellas, but the rain is so insistent, it drenches you right through anyway. 

“I don’t know how appropriate it is for me to ask anything regarding this Ma’am. But I genuinely am curious about how Mr Y/L/N and Mr Jeon agreed to it in the first place.”

On the day you’d spoken to him about the entire affair, you’d told him the truth about your relationship with Wonwoo. His loyalty had earned him at least this much truth, and you were glad to have a confidant. You tried to play it off as coolly as you could, but as soon as you’d spilled the truth, you’d realise what a big weight had been relieved off your chest. It felt like being a teenager again. You had explained to Jisung that it was not romantic in the least, and in fact, you wanted to draw an end to it. You didn’t care to tell him that it was because you were addicted like a drug. 

That was the problem. These last three days wouldn’t have become such a burden for you had you simply called Wonwoo and sought his help. Like a magician, he’d silence the thoughts in your mind and leave you with more clarity than ever, almost like a fresh slate beginning anew. You knew he was the perfect solution, but you had decided to cut it off. There was no point in persisting in this kind of a relationship where you weren’t even friends, not even on talking terms, and yet you needed him to stabilise you. All while he didn’t need you at all. For him, you were just another of his regulars. He’s probably already replaced you by now. 

“My mother can be… very capable when she wants. She has her ways.”

“I’m sure she does. It must not have been an easy feat to swallow pride to agree to the idea of the wedding and take the Jeons out for lunch.”

Words get stuck in your throat. Pride. You’ve never let go of it. Life has been humbling, but you’ve never stopped being proud of who you are and what you’ve been able to achieve. All the dreams you’ve fulfilled. It forms an integral part of who you’ve become, your identity, and the way you perceive yourself. You’ve tried to not let it become arrogance nor vanity, although you have had sufficient reasons. That discipline is also something you pride yourself on. 

“But I guess it’s not a big price for happiness,” Jisung completes his little philosophical speech and busies himself with arranging out letters on your desk that need to be signed, arranged in order of urgency. “I’ll be at my desk Ma’am, should you need any help.” He bows and leaves the room, and you’re still staring out of the window. 

Happiness. 

What an odd word.  What an odd sensation for the billions of people across the world to be chasing all their lives. You had always considered yourself to be above that rat race for gratification and validation. Your successes spoke for itself, and you had no reason to consider yourself unhappy when you were living the dream you’d envisioned since you were a child. 

But are you happy?

_

It’s just for an enjoyable late night drive, you reason with yourself when you find yourself driving on the road that takes you from your office to Wonwoo’s office building. It’s just to see if their coffee has improved, you think, when you step into the building and walk inside. It’s just to see if their employees are forced to work overtime, you figure, when you’re granted a visitor pass by the reception desk even though they’re shocked to see you here. 

“What are you doing here?”

Wonwoo stares at you from the end of the corridor. It’s not lit very brightly and totally empty. 

“Are you busy?”

Wonwoo’s tongue goes into his left cheek, you see it through his skin. He’s wearing a suit in baby blue. You knew he’d look good in blue. 

“Yes. I’m working late as you can see. I don’t enjoy it particularly, so I don’t do it unless I’m really behind on work.”

And why’s that so? Trying to catch up with our closing figures for the financial year? A snarky comment is on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t want to say it. The jibe feels tasteless, even for you. 

No, tonight you’re here in desperation, you finally admit to yourself. You’re here because like any other addict, it’s hard to let go once you get used to the high of happiness you ride when the dopamine kicks in.

“Sorry. I’ll leave.” His rejection is clear. He knows what you’re here for, that’s for sure. You’d never go out of your way to come to his office if it had been for anything else. It’s a good reminder call of reality. 

This is the boy your parents want you to marry. This is the boy you rejected from marrying and from sleeping with. He has every right to turn you down now.

Wonwoo takes a step forward, you take a step backward. It’s a dance. You pause, you don’t even know when you were on the verge of tears. You bite your lips and turn away your face. You walk away quickly, as silently as you arrived. Your thoughts are loud enough to mask the sound of Wonwoo jogging after you, and you only realise when he grabs your arm as soon as you enter the elevator. He enters too, naturally, face a bit flushed from the chase, but before you can ask him what’s up, he pushes you against the mirror on the back of the elevator and kisses you hard. 

It knocks your breath away. In the best way possible. 

You kiss him back. Wildly, passionately. Like lovers, you would think in retrospection, not like rivals who fuck. As if you’d missed each other. Another second of overthinking and you’d delude yourself into believing that he needs you as much as you do. But thankfully, he kisses well enough to wash your thoughts away. 

“Don’t run away from me like that, girl.” He snarls near your ear, his breath making you ticklish, and you whimper when he begins to kiss your neck. He’s going to leave marks again, and frankly, you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him. Not when your brain is finally drifting away from the anxiety. 

The elevator dings just as he puts his lips back on yours, tongue forcing itself in. You break apart, gasping for air. You haven’t even noticed what a mess you’ve made of his hair. “Wonwoo I… I can leave, really. If you’re busy.” “No, stay.” He doesn’t step away from you even when the elevator door opens, holding you down with his hands, keeping you close to him. The elevator door closes again, and he frantically presses the floor number of his office. “Come with me while I pack up,” he says as an explanation, and you understand. Then he unbuttons your shirt and begins to suck bruises all over the exposed flesh over your collarbones and chest, hands fondling with your breasts. Even over the bra, he instantly finds your nipples and rubs them to perfect hardness, making them so sensitive, that when he lifts you up into his arms and wraps your legs around his waist, your nipples brush against his face and he can feel the nubs poking out. 

“You get turned on like you’re a touch-starved bitch,” he says roughly, making you thrash your arms against his back for the rudeness, before chuckling and thrusting his mouth onto the clothed nipples to suck them while he walks out of the elevator, holding you in his arms still, and seemingly facing no difficulty in walking at all. You become silent again, as you ponder on how strong he really must be, and his bites at your nipples do nothing to prevent the manhandling kink from showing itself. 

“Take me on your desk, Wonwoo.” You beg as he enters his office, but he laughs and puts you down on his chair. Thankfully the entire floor is empty. He begins to arrange papers and turn off his desktop, while you sit silently at his desk. The high slowly wears out as his clearing up takes longer and longer, until you’re no longer turned on anymore and reality strikes. 

He looks at you once all the work is done, staring deep at your soul, making you feel naked. Consciously, you start to button up your shirt and fix your collar.

“I thought we were done with this, Y/N.”

He says it like you’d dumped him while dating, and it’s funny. But you can’t laugh. You did cut him off and now you’re begging him to take you back. It’s a little absurd- inconsistency has never been one of your weaknesses. You’re tempted to dissect it in your brain and understand why it’s happening, but you fall into a spiral of overthinking again.

It’s getting tough to breathe.

You stand up and walk around the room. It’s spacious, with a simple layout, nothing modern like your own office space. You can’t blame it, it definitely screams Wonwoo to you. Instead of huge windows on the walls, he has mahogany shelves stacked with books. Instead of a statement chandelier, he has minimalist lights in focal points of the room. Instead of a charcoal grey settee with everything in cool shades of steel, his office is done in off-white, decorated with rich tones of wood. The room tells you so much about Wonwoo, although you probably know it all already- legacy, tradition and diligence. This is what he’s made of, old money that takes no risks and succeeds without gambles. 

“You know why I had to come back.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” He walks up to you, standing in front of you, as you gaze at the books on his shelves. “Y/N, look at me.” And you do. He looks like Adonis and you want to kiss him. “You said it was getting toxic for you.” He snaps you back to attention, and you sigh. “I can’t… Wonwoo, I tried. But I…” you walk away, unable to continue. Continuing would mean telling him what’s driving you to the brink of anxiety every moment of the day.

“We can talk. If this is about that day, we’re in this together. We may not be friends, but we can be allies in this.” 

The simple way in which he says these words, you don’t think he realises how much more vulnerable he makes you feel. How much more tempted to spill it all to him and be relieved of the burden of this worry. 

“I don’t want to talk to you, Wonwoo. I didn’t come here for talking.” You walk back towards him. “Fuck me and make my brain stop thinking, please.” He closes his eyes for a second. The tension is palpable, it’s making your palms sweat. You tilt your head and gently lean in to kiss the edge of his jaw. His stubble grazes against your softer lips and it’s a nice feeling. 

“I can’t say no when you ask like this.”

_

You wake up in the middle of the night, clammy with sweat and naked under the sheets, alone in Wonwoo’s king-sized bed. Your wrists hurt from being tied with his tie for too long, and you’re definitely too sore to move, but the pleasant buzz all over your body is too good a sensation to forgo. But now that you’ve woken up, you feel thirsty and hot all over, so you get out of bed. You notice your underwear neatly kept on the couch, Wonwoo had taken care to not rip them. You quickly wear them before looking for any waterbottle in the room. Seeing none, and not seeing Wonwoo either, you open the bedroom door and slowly tiptoe your way outside. Once past the small corridor, you notice there’s a dim light in the kitchen, and you can see Wonwoo’s shadow from far away. As you step closer, you notice he’s wearing formals, complete with a glazing white shirt and a grey tie, and his hair is brushed back neatly, although his pants are still pyjamas. He’s doing something on his laptop. You wait in the shadows for a few minutes, trying to understand if he’s in a video meeting or something, but you only hear frantic typing noises from the kitchen. After a whole five minutes pass, you step into the kitchen, and Wonwoo looks up at the same time. 

“Oh! You scared me.”

“Are you in a meeting?”

“No, it got over a while back. Why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“The meeting was with a firm in Canada. They couldn’t adjust timings.”

“And you couldn’t get someone else to do it for you?” You huff, annoyed at how unbothered he is about waking up this ungodly hour and sitting for meetings. You once again thank Jisung for scheduling foreign meetings at suitable timings.

“Do you get someone else to attend your important meetings for you?” 

You both stay in silence for a minute, Wonwoo sitting on his kitchen stool, and you standing awkwardly near the door, staring at each other. It’s only when you start shivering in the cold that you realise what you actually came here for.

“You’re working hard. Too hard. Don’t try to compete with me, Jeon.” You lean down on the island next to him, close enough to hear his breathing but not touching him at all. 

“Go to bed, Y/N.”

“I was thirsty. Where do you keep water in your house?” 

He gets up from his stool and brings a bottle. “Drink, and go to sleep. Or go home.”

You silently sip the cool water, without replying. You can see the dawn slowly coming up from the window in the kitchen, lighting the room up. The circles under Wonwoo’s eyes become prominent to you, and for no reason at all, your heart aches. This is what it’s going to be like, marrying you, Jeon Wonwoo, you think, as you look at him with a careful glance. He’s focusing on his laptop again, typing at light speed, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. You’re sipping water from his bottle, in his kitchen, wearing nothing but your underwear, and watching the sunrise. Is this what those nights filled with deadlines and insomnia are going to look like if you get married? Is this what staying up together will look like? Is this what watching the dawn together will be like? The sensation tingles your nerves and makes you anxious again. 

“Y/N, if you want to say something, just say it. Or go to sleep, trust me. You’ll need to wake up fresh tomorrow morning.”

The kitchen is warm, cosy, and filled with the familiar scent of Wonwoo’s body. You want to stay wrapped in it, and not say a word. You don’t want to break this moment, although you have no idea why sharing this simple moment is making you so emotional. Perhaps because you’ve never done it before and never imagined you would do it?

“My father is dying, Wonwoo.” 

Wonwoo stops typing and looks up.

“He has a tumour in his lungs.”

“Since when?”

“A few months now. He hadn’t told me. He didn’t want to bother me, my mom said.”

There’s a beat of silence. Again the warmth of the kitchen wraps you up and you both stare out at the slowly brightening sky outside. As a girl, you’d hate watching the sunrise. It would remind you of the nights you’d been unable to sleep and had been forced to stay up all night. But now, you can appreciate its beauty. Its consistency, its reliability. It happens every day. One of the precious few things that happen regularly, you’ve come to realise. 

Wonwoo breaks the silence. “So why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why tell you now, of all times?”

“He wants to see me married before he dies.”

Wonwoo shuts down the lid of his laptop with a smash, knowing fully what’s coming next.

“Y/N. What do you want?” He stands up and comes to stand next to you, leaning against the counter and looking down at you.

There are many things you want to say. I don’t want to throw away my freedom. I don’t want to marry a stranger. I don’t want to dance to my Appa’s whims. I don’t want to lose focus on my career. I don’t want to marry you. “I don’t want to disappoint him, Wonwoo.” It’s the ultimate truth. It’s what has fueled you for years- the desire to become that child for your parents who would take care of them when they need you, to love silently and support unconditionally, to give back everything they’d given to you. 

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Is this what you were so worried about?” You look up at him, and he tilts your face upwards with his hand on your chin. You want to lean into the warmth of his palm. “Yes. I don’t… I … I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

“What about treatment?”

“Stage 4, practically impossible, that’s what the reports say. My mom showed them to me. She cried so much, and I… I couldn’t do anything. I can’t do anything.” You move away from him, turning your body to the other side. He lets you move away.

“Treatment abroad? In the US?”

“Yes, that’s… that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I’ve spoken to a few people, but Appa is adamant. He refuses to talk to me about this every time I’ve raised it, these last few days.”

He sighs. Your heart aches again. You don’t even notice when tears begin rolling down your cheeks. You’ve never felt more alone than this, more helpless, more pitiful. What worth were your dreams and successes if life successfully left you unshielded in one stroke?

“Let’s get married. You’ll have more bargaining power to talk to him then.”

He makes it sound so simple. You’ve thought of this a hundred times before, and you still can’t register that he just said that. You turn around slowly, looking up at him through your wet eyelashes. “Don’t joke with me.”

“I’m not.”

“But I don’t want to marry you.”

“Even if it gets your Appa into a good treatment abroad?”

You stomp your foot, and hurt your bare toes on the cold tile. “Why is my Appa so stubborn?”

“Just like you, isn’t he?”

You glare at Wonwoo, but he’s deadly serious. There’s not a hint of a joke on his face, and he genuinely seems to be invested in this idea. “You’re serious.” “I am. I wouldn’t offer marriage to you casually.” You bite your lip, your heart rate begins to slow down. Wave after wave of calm washes over you, suddenly you can breathe well again. “You’re serious,” you say again, not believing it still. “I am. Do you want me to go down on my knees?” “Wonwoo, you’re not thinking about this. Don’t turn your back on me when you regret it later. This isn’t a light thing, it’s a marriage, for fuck’s sake!” “Is your Appa’s life more precious than your ego?” “If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have come begging to you, would I?” “Then you know why I’m agreeing to this.” “Wonwoo, don’t take this on your conscience. I’ll forgive you if you step back right now.” “I won’t forgive myself.” He bends down to your eye level, and takes your chin in his hand again. “It isn’t going to be that bad, is it?”

You let out such a big sigh of relief that you’re sure the air tickles Wonwoo’s palm holding on to your chin. 

_

You don’t fall asleep that night, or rather morning. Wonwoo makes tea, and you sit on the living room couch, an arm’s distance away from each other, chalking out a plan to convince your Appa to go abroad for treatment.

“When did your mother come and tell you all this?”

“The day after the lunch. She called me over.”

You’re our breadwinner now, Y/N. Your father didn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to bother you anymore. Your mother’s words echo in your mind. Is this what you’d come down to? Were you that male who couldn’t be bothered with any problems of the household just because you earned an income? Had you become those slimy men you’d hated all your life? Just because you had taken over the company didn’t mean you had stopped being their daughter, for god’s sake. 

“He wants to die in Korea, he says.”

“That doesn’t mean we let him die without treatment.”

We. Wonwoo has started using it so freely, as if he’s truly considering you an ally like he had said before. 

“What are you going to get out of this?” You perch yourself on the kitchen counter, your bare legs dangling next to where Wonwoo sits on his stool. You’re chewing on the granola bar you found in the fridge because you’re suddenly hungry.

Wonwoo looks at you for a second, pensive and thoughtful in the pause before replying. “We don’t have to do forever and always. We can divorce after the treatment is done.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I have my reasons.”

The sunrise is beautiful, another day has begun. Although one tornado in your heart has calmed down, it doesn’t mean you’re completely at peace though. You’re still burning with worry, there are a thousand questions floating in your head. You don’t know the answers to most of them, and you’re scared just like you had been when you had stepped into the adult world on your own footing, for the first time. But unconsciously, you’ve come to realise that you’re not alone this time.

You have Jeon Wonwoo with you.

_

You drive directly to your sister’s house to tell her about your decision. You realise that she has no idea that your mother has spilled the news about your father’s health to you, when you tell her that you’re only agreeing to this marriage on one condition. She tries to deny it at first, but then she realises it’s a useless task against your obstinacy. 

“If you could admit now that you were dating Wonwoo, why didn’t you admit it that day?” she says finally, resignedly. 

“So that you could hide Appa’s illness from me forever?

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Firstly, tell me why you’d been stalking me for so long.”

“Not for so long. Ever since Appa found out, he became obsessed with settling you down. It’s become his last wish, you know, that kind of thing. His last project. His last duty. His last task to complete before he… you know. It was just a happy coincidence that as soon as we prodded your chauffeur he spilled that you and Wonwoo had been spending an awful lot of time together.”

You scoff. 

“Yeah, well, Wonwoo and I needed to talk over things. Commitment and stuff. Anyway, now we’ll give Appa what he wants. Promise me you won’t object to anything I say. Promise me you and Mom will back me up when I take him to the US for treatment.”

Her eyes soften down, tears brimming on the edge.

“He always loved you more, you know? Probably because you’re exactly like him.” “Unnie…” “No! I’m not jealous or anything. It’s natural to have a favourite child. He’s only human, after all. He found his ideal child in you- responsible and independent. He really sees himself in you, that’s why.” 

You hug your sister from the side, as you sit down on the couch. Her belly is quite bulging now, stretched against the fabric of the loose lycra dress.

“If anyone can convince him, it’s you, Y/N-ah. Our maknae. The apple of his eye.” She smiles. There’s something so broken in her eyes, and you hate it. Your Unnie, who you’ve never seen sad. You wonder how much she’s had to hide from you to keep this news a secret. You wonder how long they’d planned to keep it a secret, anyway. 

“Do you trust me, Unnie?”

She kisses your forehead, and smiles again, “Yes of course. Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s just… nothing. I just want to know I’m not alone.”

“You never were, sweetheart.”

_

After that, everything becomes a whirlwind. You barely have time to process things, how fast they happen. Wonwoo informs his parents, there’s another meal shared by the two families. You both still don’t tell anyone the truth about your relationship, and frankly, there’s no need to explain, when both families are so happy with the wedding. Especially your father. His eyes shine, and you stick by his side all evening. 

“My little girl’s all grown up now.” He says to you later. You almost cry at the fondness of his words, affection he rarely shows. There’s no more words spoken. There’s no need for words. You tuck him into bed, and pat him to sleep. You don’t want to leave his side at all.

_

You don’t cross paths with Wonwoo for the week running up to the wedding. There’s a clear division of work- he’s handling the internal logistics, and you’re running the external front. This is nothing but a business project for the two of you. You’ve pushed the worries about the marriage to the back burner, your priority being your father right now. You’ve already booked a treatment plan for him in the US, booked his flight tickets, and sorted everything out. Of course, you haven’t approached the topic with him yet, but you drop hints every day. 

You’ve decided to live with your parents until the wedding. You find it harder to stay away from them these days. Somehow, everything reminds you of them, and you’re brought to tears in the middle of a work meeting one day, when you remember how your father had brought you to the first stakeholder meeting when you were 16 years old, to introduce you to the world of business. You don’t want to leave life upto fate anymore. At least not the bits you can help. 

Part of managing the external front is speaking to the media. There’s countless questions at your latest press conference. Although the conference is to launch a new product, the journalists seem to be more interested in hearing the truth about the rumours currently floating around. You’d expected this, that’s why you’d timed the release of the rumours and the launch of the product at the same time. The public opinion needs to be in favour of your marriage, otherwise the alliance would hurt you both. 

“Y/L/N Y/N-ssi, is it true that you’re soon getting married to Jeon Wonwoo-ssi of Jeon Estates?” 

You blush, again a carefully practised move. You’ve spent many a minute in front of a youtube screen last night, trying to perfect the fake blush.

“Are we really going to discuss personal matters at an official conference like this?” Another measured smile, followed by a general laugh rippling across the audience for the sake of being polite. “But yes, it’s true. I won’t try to hide it anymore.”

At that very moment, a thousand questions pop up from all corners. “Anymore? Y/L/N Y/N-ssi, does that mean that you’ve been together for a long time now?” “Can we expect a merger of Jeon Estates with your company, then?” “Is the marriage a business decision or an affair of love?”

You’re another fake smile away from throwing up right now. Their curiosity gets on your nerves, you know that no matter what you say, they’re going to interpret what they really want to. Thankfully Jisung, who is moderating, carefully steps in and stops the journalists from asking any more questions. “We’ll not be taking any more personal questions. With that we come to the end of the conference. If you have any more questions, please write to us and we shall answer them over mail. Thank you for attending today.”

You exit the conference hall quickly, eyes hurting from the flashlights. It’s going to only get worse, you think. Time to brace for impact.

_

It’s only the night before the wedding that you get the jitters. You’re sitting on the floor of the balcony, looking at the roads of the Seoul night view, stress-eating cotton candy. You can’t believe that this is happening. Would you ever be able to have guessed this is how you’d be getting married? Not that you had ever harboured any ambitions about love or marriage. You’d been happy to see your parents share a loving marriage, and your sister as well. But since a young age, you’d decided that marriage was not for you. Sex? That was necessary. Dating? Perhaps, but casual. Love? Your first relationship in college had convinced you it was not your forte- you’d fallen out of feelings after a few months, and you had never tried to fall in love again. Marriage? Not even on the cards right now. Kids? Probably never. You didn’t think you’d live that long. 

And yet, your wedding invite was sitting idle on your lap. Printed on beautiful handmade paper, intrinsically engraved with orchid petals, and the fonts printed out in a loopy serif font, it was really pretty. Posh and classy, like everybody expected. It had been sent out to a few people only, Wonwoo had asked for a small wedding, and you had happily agreed. Having to deceive your parents and sister was bad enough. Lesser the better. 

The doorbell rings. You’re taken by surprise, not expecting anyone at this hour. Probably Jisung, perhaps he’s come to drop something off. That boy’s working too hard as well, you need to give him a raise after this entire affair is finished. 

But it’s Wonwoo. 

“Are you busy?” He asks before even entering. 

“No?”

“Can I come in?”

He looks over your figure, the long t-shirt you’re wearing with the shorts that are hidden under the t-shirt. You’re getting more confused by the moment. You open the door wider, and he steps in. 

“What’s going on?”

“There are details we need to talk about.”

You take a deep breath, leaning against the wall. Since that conversation at dawn with Wonwoo, you had started guarding yourself against him. Something had changed in your mind- you’d feel more vulnerable next to him, more bared, more naked. Even if he didn’t look at you, you’d feel like you could read your mind all the time. 

“Like what?”

“I made a contract. It’s a… guidebook of sorts.” He sits at the sofa, taking out his phone and placing it on your coffee table. He’s wearing his work clothes, so you’re guessing he’s come directly from work. “What’s it about?” You sit next to him, and he pushes your phone towards you. “Do you have a printer? We could print it out. Or you can-” “I’ll get a print. Do you want something?” He leans back on the sofa, but his posture is still stiff. You’ve not seen him like this. It’s almost like he’s nervous. “No. I need to leave quickly, so it’s best if you can go through this quickly. I don’t have time to waste.” You roll your eyes and stand up, keeping your knee perched on the sofa, terribly close to where his hand is. “What’s this attitude? We’re getting married tomorrow, and this is how you’re going to be?” “Well, what did you expect? Just because I agreed to marry and help you out, doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly be in love with you.” “Help me out? I didn’t fucking need your help, Wonwoo!” “Really? Your desperation told me something else that night.” He’s standing up now too, and it feels like he’s towering over you on purpose to make you feel small. You take a step back, he doesn’t move forward. It’s not push and pull, it’s gravity unwinding. 

“Listen, we can still call this off. I don’t want to be an object of your pity.”

“Pity? I wanted to help you, Y/N. There’s a difference, or is your brain too ego-clouded to understand?”

“Wonwoo, I could marry anyone-”

“And yet, it was me you came to!”

“It was convenient! I couldn’t really marry … say, Jisung, when my parents had proof that we’d been sleeping together!”

“Oh, so it’s Jisung now-”

“It was a damn example!” You’re shouting now, but his voice is still low and hoarse. It creates goosebumps on your skin. 

“If that’s who you want to marry, you can go ahead. You better know that I have no desire to be wedded to you tomorrow!” He takes a step forward, and you step back. “What do you think I am, huh? Your toy? Today you want to fuck, tomorrow you want to end things, the next day you come begging at my door to blow your mind with my dick, and the day after that you want to get fucking married? You don’t think keeping up with your plot twists are stressful for me? Do you think I’m getting off on your mood swings? I am helping you, because you’re in a dire situation. Don’t you dare spin this narrative to anything else, because it is not charity or love for you that’s motivating me to step into this hell of a marriage that I can see coming.” 

With every word he utters, he steps closer and closer, and you keep walking back until your back hits the wall. And then he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the exact dilation of his pupils even beyond his glasses. “I don’t need your help, Wonwoo. I’m not a damsel in distress.” He closes his eyes for a second, breathing in. When his eyes do open again, they’re different- darker, yet with more clarity, less angry and yet more dangerous. He leans down, and for a second, for a delusional mindless moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You part your lips, waiting for impact, as he tilts his head ever so slightly, all while staring into your soul.

“I don’t give a fuck about you, Y/N. I don’t care. I’m just repaying an old debt.”

Then he steps back and picks up his phone from the coffee table. “I’ll mail it to you. Don’t be a brat and make sure to read it.”

You’re still stuck against the wall like an insect, too stunned to move. Before he walks out of the door, he says without looking at you, “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

_

The wedding dress is simple, nothing in frills. You see it for the first time when you wear it on the morning of your wedding. As you sit in your dressing room, revising your vows, your sister enters. She’s all but jumping in excitement. “Darling, why so serious?” She grabs your hands and smiles widely at you. “Today’s your big day! Don’t think about Appa’s sickness today, or work stuff, or anything at all. Your wedding day isn’t going to come back, so you make sure to make the most of it!” You wish you could laugh at her face, her words seeming ridiculous to you. You wish she wasn’t so excited, it would only save her the disappointment she’d have to face later. 

So you force a smile. “Is it time? I’m just nervous. What if I forget my vows?” “Then you forget them. You love Wonwoo, Y/N-ie. You can just declare your love freely. You don’t need to stick to a script. Go ahead and curse him if you like!” You do laugh at this, and she joins you too. “There! That’s my girl. Honestly, discovering that you and Wonwoo… together… it was a shock for us. Like, we’d never thought of you both ever liking each other. But then, it made sense. Especially what he had said that night, I remember. That’s the moment I knew, something was definitely up” You gawk, “What night?” She giggles, “That night at the party. You know? Don’t act dumb, cutie.” She wriggles her eyebrows and it dawns on you what exactly she was referring to. Fuck. Of course she had heard, fuck Wonwoo for being so damn loud. 

You got out of your head, when someone called you to the hall, telling you that it’s time. You slowly make your way out of your dressing room, making sure your dress doesn’t get spoiled. Your father waits outside the room, dressed elegantly. 

“Are you ready?”

There’s an odd peace in his eyes, as he smiles at you with pride. 

Fuck it. Thank god you’re getting married early. Otherwise who’d walk you down the aisle… if you got too late?

“Yes, Appa.” You smile back, and loop your arm through his outstretched arm. 

_

The gates of the hall open up, revealing a beautifully decorated banquet, with an announcer standing in the centre, to conduct the ceremony. All the guests turn to look at you, dressed to their nines. But you’ve got eyes on only one person in the room. 

For the first time in your life, you think Wonwoo looks beautiful. Attraction based on looks was barely something you experienced with him, but today you realise why people fell for him like dominos. He looks absolutely regal in his tuxedo- simple, yet that’s what suits him perfectly. You think, you’ve never seen Wonwoo wear anything excessive, always minimalistic, and really he looks best like that. Because he doesn’t need any accessories, his face does enough. 

“Go, sweetheart,” your father leaves you midway the walkway, and you realise you have to walk the rest of the way on your own. You bow a little to Appa, and then look up front again. Your eyes meet Wonwoo’s and your heart races. He looks too pretty to be real, and yet you find yourself walking towards him. The entire audience erupts into applause when Wonwoo takes a few steps forward and extends his hand. You take it, and he accompanies you to your place, dropping your hand only after a slight peck pressed on the back of your hand. The crowd erupts in cheers again, and for the first time in your life, you blush genuinely. 

You stand facing the announcer, not daring to look at the man next to you. You have enough time to look at him anyway. 

_

The rest of the wedding ceremony went off peacefully. After reciting your vows perfectly, hand in Wonwoo’s hand, avoiding his eye contact desperately, and exchanging the rings, the announcer asked you to kiss. Well, that was easy. He didn’t use tongue, thankfully, otherwise you would’ve moaned in public. Even the drinks and dinner arrangement afterwards was easy. Smiling and small talk came like free flow to you after so many years. 

The hard part comes later, when you both sit in your designated limousine, exhausted after the long ceremonies of the day. Your feet hurt in the heels, and using the washroom had been a pain in the dress, so you’d desperately held on to your bladder. You’re counting down the minutes to going home, and all you want is peace.

But Wonwoo, like so many other things, is not on the same page as you. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, noticing that the car’s heading in the opposite direction as your house.

“To my house.”

“Wait, what?”

He looks up from his phone. “Didn’t you read the guide?” 

“Wonwoo, I’m not jobless, you know.”

“I fucking knew it. Right, you’re too busy being a brat.” He mutters under his breath, before opening a can of a fizzy drink from the mini cooler inside the car, and looking outside the window. 

“I haven’t even packed my stuff, Wonwoo. I can shift in once I’ve got my stuff ready.”

“You don’t know how many eyes are following us? What will the media think if we get off at different apartments tonight? It was hard enough stopping my parents from booking us a honeymoon suite.” 

You sigh. He’s right. But he doesn’t stop talking.

“You’ve got time now, read the guidebook.”

“Just tell me what’s in it, Wonwoo. Stop making such a fuss about it. Also what the fuck is a guidebook without my suggestions.”

“If you’d read it, you would have made suggestions, darling. I wasted my time going to your place last night. Anyway, if you need anything urgently from your apartment, I’ll send my secretary to fetch it for you.”

“No thanks. I don’t need anything.”

Thank god you’re familiar with Wonwoo’s apartment, because you immediately lock yourself in the bedroom and take off your dress. Once it’s off, you unlock the room, and find an exasperated Wonwoo standing outside. “Woman, why are you monopolising territory already?”

“Just go change in the guest room, Wonwoo.” You push past him, dressed in underwear, carrying your heavy dress and laying it across the living room sofa to avoid creases from forming. Then you head straight into the bathroom to clean your makeup and take a shower. 30 minutes later you emerge, and Wonwoo’s nowhere to be seen. 

After a few minutes you find him on the small personal rooftop that extends from his apartment through a small flight of stairs. You’d never gone to the roof, but now you see it has a nice bench on it, and is surrounded by lights. 

Wonwoo’s smoking. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I didn’t know you were going to hoard my space as soon as you entered my house.”

He doesn’t look at you, still gazing out at the Seoul skyline. 

“You could’ve used the other one.”

“You could’ve used the other one.”

You breathe in once, and then speak again. 

“I’m going to bed. I’m really tired.”

“Wait.” He finally turns around, and you can see his hair is completely messed up and his eyebags are visible under his glasses again. 

“Did you take my clothes?”

“Just a pajama shirt.”

He nods, seeing what you’re wearing. The cool breeze makes your skin tingle, almost making you regret taking off your bra and wearing only panties under the shirt. 

“Goodnight.”

“You’re not coming along?”

He turns away again. Well, fuck it. It’s not like you’re going to butter him up for a response. And yet when you go downstairs again, you make sure to sleep on the left side of the bed, like you’d always done whenever you’d slept together before. You don’t know why you do it, but you go to sleep assuming he’ll eventually come to bed.

_

He doesn’t. The next morning, you wake up to see the other side of the bed absolutely empty and untouched. He’s even taken away his pillow and blanket and you suddenly find yourself shivering. When you’re awake enough, you squint at the clock on the wall and figure out that it’s almost eleven in the morning. Quite late for someone like you. But then, it has been an exhausting day. 

Did Wonwoo not sleep at all?

You put these thoughts away when you stumble into the washroom, nearly slipping because your step is unbalanced. But that minor shock completely jerks you awake at least. 

Once you’ve brushed your teeth (without even realising how your toothbrush had magically appeared in Wonwoo’s bathroom even though you hadn’t packed and brought a thing), you walk out of the room. Again, there’s no sign of Wonwoo. The house is humid, from no windows being open, so you gently open up a few sources of ventilation. As the noise from the outside world begins to float into the house, the silence gets broken and you feel less claustrophobic. Sunshine falls on the simple upholstery and decorations of the house, and it makes everything shine. It’s a hot day, but at least it’s a sunny day. You hate gloomy days. 

You quickly search for Wonwoo in every room. And you eventually notice that the bed in the guest room seems to have been slept in last night. Was that where Wonwoo had slept last night? 

It didn’t make sense. It’s not like you two had not shared a bed earlier. Sure, Wonwoo had never stayed in the same bed with you for longer than an hour after the sex, unless it was a marathon until the morning, and you rarely ever woke up next to his warm body, but it seemed absurd that he’s treating you like a complete stranger. It’s not like the movies, for fucks’ sake. You’re familiar with each other, even if you’re not in love. And sharing a bed isn’t a big deal. 

Exactly Y/N. So why are you making it such a big deal?

There’s a printout of something on the coffee table. You head over and see that it is the ‘guidebook’ he’s kept blabbering about. Why is he insisting that you read it? You have an impulse to go and dump it in the dustbin and push his limits a little further, but then you have pity on him. But it’s not like you wanted to stay with him either. He’s the one who made you come and live with him. So technically, you shouldn’t feel any remorse or pity. So you do dump the prints in the dustbin without a second look at it. 

That’s when you hear your phone ring. “Hello, I’m speaking from ABC Packages. We’re here to shift your packages from your old house to your new residence. We’re waiting outside the door, are you at home?” Huh? “I’m sorry, who asked you to do this? Do you have a name?” “Yes Ms. Y/L/N. The order came from a Jeon Wonwoo-ssi.” No wonder. “Aaah. Okay, just wanted to confirm,” you quickly say to avoid any suspicion. “Yes I’m home. I’ll open the door.” 

And so the next hour is spent in a flurry of bringing in boxes, and when the delivery persons leave, you open them all. There seems to be enough space in Wonwoo’s walk-in closet for your stuff, which isn’t much at all. So you hang up all your formals, which form the majority of your clothing, and stash the rest of it in the shelves. Your shoes are also lesser than Wonwoo’s and you barely have any accessories and makeup apart from essentials. The problem arises with your underwear and … other personal belongings. You’re not sure if Wonwoo would appreciate opening his underwear drawer to find your box of dildos stashed there. But there’s no other space, so he’ll just have to deal with it. 

Thank God you’d taken the day off. Jisung had offered that staying away from work would make the impression of the honeymoon more imminent, and you’d agreed. Although it does seem like Wonwoo had gone to work all the same. And so, you’re left all alone in the house, and while it’s a little odd, you sit at almost every surface of the apartment to get used to it. Sure, you’ve been sat at all of these before, in various positions, as Wonwoo had fucked you, but it feels different now under the sunlight. You’re not surprised to find Wonwoo’s fridge stocked almost completely with ample groceries, so making lunch isn’t a hassle (apart from the fact that you barely know how to cook anything). But all-in-all, it’s not a tedious day, and you’re settling in nicely. 

Until Wonwoo comes home, blazer on his arm and his hair messy. He lets himself in, but you’re sitting on the kitchen counter, checking out what’s kept where. “Oh, you’re here.” You turn around and see him flunking down on the sofa, legs sprawled out. “Are you that tired?” He doesn’t answer at first, just stares at you for a second too long. “I am. It’s been a long day.” “I’m making coffee, do y-” “No. I’m going to the gym now.”

Gym takes longer than you imagine. It’s well past 10 pm when Wonwoo makes his way back, and you’ve already finished your dinner of cup ramen and ice cream. He doesn’t bother to look at you and wordlessly enters the guest bathroom. You consider entering the guest room and waiting for him, and then talking to him about why he slept separately, but then you drop it. You know he won’t answer you properly, and it’ll be a waste of effort. You sigh and make your way to the bedroom, leaving the door unlocked and slightly ajar so that he knows he’s still invited inside.

_

Wonwoo and you arrive last at the little gathering your family has set up to celebrate the one month anniversary of your marriage. Wonwoo’s family is here too, along with Kyungmin Oppa and your sister, and it’s a big group even for the large sprawling, and largely empty house, where you parents reside. You’d think it’s easy to get lost in the crowd, but not when you’re the newly wed couple who’s the focus of the party. 

“I’m so disappointed y’all aren’t going on a honeymoon,” your sister endlessly complains, and she’s completely backed by the two mothers. “Yes!” Your mother joins in. Just like the rest of the family members, she seems to have bought your wedding as 100% real as well, although she should’ve been the first to connect the dots that you’re only doing this sham wedding for the sake of your father’s wishes. “I have itineraries planned for Bali, for Scandinavia, for the Maldives, or even for Japan, if you don’t want to go too far!” She giggles, and the other ladies do too. You don’t understand what’s so funny. Especially when you know how little conversation you’ve shared with your husband over the last month, in spite of not being strangers. 

In fact that makes it worse, you think. Wonwoo’s wearing a dark blue blazer over a white shirt which puts his pecs right in your face. You know what it’d be like to touch them, and bite all over them. The way he has his left hand pressed against the small of your back means he knows what it’d be like to just drop his hand an inch lower and feel your ass against his palm. Andit is worse because even though you know each other intimately, there’s so little emotional connection you feel with him now. Whatever vulnerability had developed around him when he’d first agreed to the wedding had become hardened again under his cold attitude, and you’re back to just who you were when you’d grinded up against him at your sister’s engagement party. You curse yourself for thinking that you could ever feel a nice way about Jeon Wonwoo, because honestly, look at the man. He’s probably never regretted any decision taken after midnight as much as he’s regretted the decision to marry you. 

When you sit down at the dinner table, you notice him not eating any of the seafood. You wonder if he’s just not hungry or rudely ignoring the special grilled fish that is your Appa’s speciality. It’s probably the latter- some testosterone shit. And yet, he’s speaking charmingly smoothly with your Appa, even though Wonwoo’s not much of a talker and you know that. 

When he sits in the corner of the room, smiling and talking to your mother, you wonder what lies he’s spewing. You’ve noticed how easily lies come to him at the wedding itself, when he’d spinned tale upon tale about your ‘love story’. I fell for her, honestly, for the first time, when she’d walked into my class in ninth grade. You had scoffed, remembering the disgusted expression he had worn in reality, when he’d seen you being introduced into the class. Of course, we’ve known each other for a long time now. Naturally, there have been ups and downs. Gosh, this reminds me of the time we’d gone on that date to the amusement park after our last day at school, huh? We’d fought so bitterly after that, you’d think we were enemies. Haha. You’d nearly laughed at that- your school had taken you all out to the amusement park on the last day of classes, and somehow Wonwoo and you’d been seated together on all the damn rides. Fuck him for laughing at you for becoming scared on the roller coaster rides and then pretending to take care of you when you had passed out in his arms at the very peak of the ride. You bet the teachers had cooed at him for being so chivalrous, when in reality it was a smack to your face. 

When he leaves early, and leans in to press a kiss to your lips, you almost cringe away. It feels like you’re kissing a stranger even though his lips and the stubble on his jaw feel so familiar. This is the first time he’s shown you affection in front of others. It’s all a show, you know. You gotta do what’s needed to keep the show running.  “I’ll see you at home, sweetheart,” he says before pulling away and tucking your hair behind your ears. You search in his eyes for honesty, and all you find is a dark abyss. 

_

But it seems like your family buys the facade again. Banking on the fact that they seem pleased with your husband, and on your good choice of marriage, you finally broach the real issue with your father. You’re both sitting at the patio, sipping whisky after everyone’s left and the two of you have some peace after a long day of chattering and feasting.

“Appa, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes, Y/N-ah?”

You pause before answering. Finally, you decide to take the blunt route, knowing that there’s no easy way about this. 

“Come with me to the US for your treatment.”

He sighs. It’s a sigh that sounds almost like a cough, and it makes you wonder how much phlegm is stored in his damaged lungs now. You wonder how you didn’t notice it before.

“Who told you?”

“Eomma.”

“Of course she did.” He sighs again, and looks at you. “Are you asking me or commanding me?” 

“Appa, I’m not your boss. I can’t command you.”

“But you’re my daughter. I know how children feel when they think their parents aren’t listening to them.”

You smile. “I’ve always been stubborn, you know. I’ve got it in my genes.”

“Genes I’m proud of. How much has your mother told you? Did she mention I’m in stage 4 and it’s practically incurable?”

“Yes, and no. There are still chances to cure it, Appa, if only you’ll listen to me.”

“Sweetie-”

“Why aren’t you giving this another chance? I didn’t know you to be a person who easily gives up!” You can feel yourself getting angry, tears pooling in your eyes. It’s stupid how he’s arguing against it, illogical, meaningless. Your heart breaks every time you look at his eyes- they’re old, wrinkled, and yet the fire hasn’t gone out. Does he really want to end it all this fast?

“You know, I get where you’re coming from. But… I don't want to prolong suffering, Y/N-ah. It’s time, I can feel it. There’s no point being a vegetable pushed about in a wheelchair and drinking soup for the rest of my life. There’s no point living if I have to just gobble medicines all day and not drink any more port wine. There’s no point living a life which isn’t even a life, it’s just a laboratory experiment.”

You do burst out crying at this. You want to throttle his neck, and shake him, and ask how could he say such things. 

“Aaah, Y/N-ah! Don’t cry-”

“You’re making me cry, Appa! You didn’t even tell me! Were you just planning to sit on it till it’s too late?”

“It is never too late, Y/N-ah. Appa is always here with you, even if I can’t be here physically.”

The tears don’t stop, he pulls you closer, until you’re wailing on his shoulder, and he hugs you with one arm. 

“It’s not fair,” you mumble in between tears, hiccups interspersed in your words. Then he only rubs your back and you gently quieten down. “I don’t care, Appa. Come to the US with me. I’ve spoken to doctors, they’ve said there are chances to improve.” He smiles wistfully, looking at your face, which is childishly covered in snot and wet tears.

“Appa, you have to promise me you’ll try. For me, please. I’m not ready for this.”

“It will be a waste of time and effort. I would rather you pay attention to your career. And also your marriage.” “There’s not much to pay attention to. Wonwoo and I are busy almost all the time,” you try to dismiss him. “But you are young, and in love. I should believe there’s nothing other than your love life you should pay more attention to.” You sigh. It’s sad, just how well you and Wonwoo have deceived them all, even your most observant father. You wonder how it is possible, given how distant the two of you are- emotionally, always, and physically, recently. “There is something called urgency, Appa. There’s an order to how things need to be done.” 

There’s a few long minutes of silence. Your father finishes the drink in his glass and looks at the stars in the sky. You, for one moment, are sure he’ll put up another fight. “You’ve never asked me anything with so much insistence, Y/N-ah.” “You’ve not hidden anything from me before, either.” There’s another pause. The waiting is tiring, and you’re going to cry again. 

“Alright. I’ll do it, Y/N. But on one condition.” You hang on to his words, waiting for him to continue. “One chance. I’m not going back again if there is a relapse. I will not push my fate to a sour ending. You go back to your life, where I want to see you happy. And I will let nature take its due course.” You dare to smile, too afraid he’s going to take back his words. But then he smiles back, and beckons you to lie down on his lap, as he begins talking about something new he;s recently read, and you’re grateful for the distraction. 

That night when you go home, you find Wonwoo playing in his gaming room. It’s a small room, probably meant to be a spare bedroom, or a kid’s bedroom, but he has an elaborate gaming setup there, and he locks himself up in it every weekend. Sometimes you wonder if he’s dead, but then you hear his cocky, hushed whispers of victory when you lean on the door. He’s always been good at games. 

Today the door is slightly open, and you think for a deluded moment, that he perhaps left it open so that he could hear you enter the house. So you lightly knock and he turns around in his gaming chair. You realise he’s wearing a tank top, his hair hidden under a hideous beanie, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the brooding adult you’re married to. 

“I spoke to Appa tonight.”

He looks up at you and takes off his headphones. He nods once, understanding immediately.

“I’m leaving for New York tomorrow, and I don’t want to delay the appointment.” 

He stares at you for a second, then replies, “When is your flight?” 

“Afternoon.”

“And how long are you going to be away?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a month, perhaps longer. I don’t want to leave until it’s all done. I want to see it to the end.”

He nods again, standing up from his chair. The screen flashes something about the game being paused, and his character awkwardly bounces about in the game field. The character has black hair and wears glasses like Wonwoo. 

“Pack enough, then. I’ll be here when you come back.”

You nod, and he smiles. This is why you got married in the first place, afterall. You bet he’s glad to get the wheels moving as quickly as possible so that this farce can come down before he’s so tired of it that your mere sight repels you.

_

The next three months pass by like a whirlwind, a miracle from heaven. Because not only are the doctors extremely positive about your father’s condition, but also hopeful for complete treatment. A part of you is too wary of everything going too great, too good to be true, and you’re crying every night when you lie sleepless in your hotel bed. There’s not a single second you’re free from anxiety, and there’s literally nothing else in your mind except praying that every minute of the treatment goes well. You’ve never been so nervous, except when you’d been in college and getting your papers approved by your professors and they’d laughed straight up in your face at your ambitiousness. You get periodic calls from your colleagues, the managers and Jisung, most often. But if there’s a perk of being a CEO, it’s that your employees know when to respect your personal space, unless there’s an absolute emergency. Relatives call you, your sister calls you ever so often. You hope she doesn’t go into labour with your father still stuck on the hospital bed, but it’s only a small part of her worries, you’re sure. So you assure her about everything being alright and encourage to focus on her pregnancy being perfectly smooth, although Kyungmin Oppa tells you that her mood swings are more distinct now with more things to worry about. The baby kicks for the first time, and you wish you could be there. You don’t want to miss a lot of firsts, but it’s a small tradeoff you don’t mind making. 

There’s only one person who doesn’t call you, Wonwoo. He probably knows that you don’t want to be disturbed, but sometimes you have thoughts. Thoughts about how different your life was just a few months ago. Thoughts about how your marriage is due to be annulled as soon as this business ends. Thoughts about whether you should have let Wonwoo ever into your life. Thoughts about how he feels about this entire thing. You know how he’d said he had just wanted to help you, but was it a moment of pity or a calculated decision? Was he actually humane enough to want to do this? You’re unsure, just like you’re unsure about how much you even know him. Sure, you’ve known him for your entire damn life, but not really. 

Firstly, there’s the matter of the wedding. The fact that Wonwoo didn’t actually need to be roped in to convince your dad is a surprising issue. You hadn’t expected Appa to be so pliant to your words and your tears, when he had supposedly protested so much in front of Unnie and Eomma. Well, there perhaps was something called a favourite child. Secondly, there’s the concern of what happens now. It’s already been four months since your wedding, and it’s almost mid-December now. You’re 100% sure that Wonwoo will not be interested to drag on this farce for longer than necessary, so you mentally take notes to draft up divorce letters and take them to him as soon as you return to Seoul. Your PR team’s done a fairly good job in hiding the fact that you and Wonwoo have barely spent any time together since the wedding. So it’s not going to take much to silence the media if they raise eyebrows at such a quick divorce. Family will be easy to convince, as well. We just don’t have enough time for a full-on relationship now. We’re focused on our careers, that’s where our priorities lie. Honestly, this was why we were so hesitant about marriage in the first place. See, we told you, we weren't made for this relationship business. If only you hadn’t practically stalked us into it, we wouldn’t have to disappoint you all like this. 

And what happens after that? 

Do you remain exes who smile at each other at social gatherings? Do you remain fuckbuddies, forgetting about your trash past altogether? Do you become strangers who don’t even bother to remember birthdays? 

You’re feeling dizzy, so you pass out on the couch in your hotel room. 

_

It’s New Years’ Eve when you return to Seoul, and nobody can stop the smile on your face from breaking out every three seconds. Your father’s body may still be weak from chemotherapy, and he may have to visit the hospital every other week to get follow-ups on his treatment, but he’s alive and the spark in his eyes haven’t been snuffed out. There’s hope, infinite hope, and you feel whole again. There’s incredible joy blooming in your heart, even if all the trees are barren and all the world is grey. The doctors say that it is a godsent gift, and there can be a relapse, but the chances are low enough to be confident that there’s going to be at least five more years of happy life for your father. For someone who was praying for five more minutes, it’s a harvest too bountiful, and you feel like a person born again. 

The happiness lasts the entire journey back home, back into the wide waiting arms of your mother who had never gone to the US because she was too scared of being there. You can see how the stress has taken a toll on her, as her figure seems frailer than before, and there’s no longer than glow radiating off her face. And yet, this gift is more than she, or you could ever have asked for, so you take what you can get. Your father’s organs haven’t failed yet, and he can eat better things than soup, so your mother’s cooked specially for him, although she hasn’t entered the kitchen in years. It’s softly cooked galbi and prawn pajeon, and he devours the meal after months of hospital food. You stay the night at your parent’s home, as your sister comes over along with her husband. It’s a great family reunion, and you feel like you could die in this happiness.

Except reality strikes when you wake up the next morning and realise that you should go to your actual home now. You wonder if he’s going to be at home or not, given that it’s the New Year and he may have plans with others. 

But there he is, as you let yourself in through the main door, and he locks eyes with you sitting on the couch, wearing shorts and no shirt, his hair quite wet. Apart from the fact that this is the first time you’ve seen him wear shorts, nothing’s changed. He’s still exactly the same. It’s cold outside, and the journey here has frozen your limbs, but the house is warm as fuck, just how Wonwoo’s always liked it. 

You can’t stop yourself. You don’t stop yourself when you run halfway across the living room and hug him without waiting for him to say anything. 

To his credit, he doesn’t say anything. He simply hugs you back. His body is so warm in spite of being shirtless, and you can smell the fresh soap clinging to his body. He rubs one hand on your spine and for a second you feel tears threatening to flow down your face. Did you miss him?

“How’s your father?” 

“Much better. There is hope.”

You can feel his hands moving more insistently on your back, stretching through all your muscles. It feels comforting in a way you’ve never received from Wonwoo. He doesn’t ask anything else, and you don’t mind. 

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

_

You’re bent over on the floor, unpacking your suitcase in your own room when he casually saunters into his walk-in and you don’t pay heed. It’s only when he walks out wearing a black leather jacket, a turtleneck, a light gold chain dangling on his neck, and fancy sunglasses perched on his nose that you turn around to look at him. You’re shocked at seeing him like this- you realise you haven’t seen him in casuals in so long. You haven’t seen him in so long. 

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah, it is the New Year. I have a party with my friends.”

You’re too busy ogling him, so he asks, “Don’t you have plans?” 

“Yeah, I’m going to unpack my stuff.”

“You could do that tomorrow. Going out with friends on New Years’ will not happen tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. You assume I have friends. It shouldn’t be news to him, you’ve told him this before. And yet, you feel embarrassed again. You didn’t know Wonwoo had friends, but it’s wrong of you to think every workaholic has no life like you. 

“No. It’s been a tiring few months… I’d rather just sleep in.”

Wonwoo, surprisingly, sits down on your bed, facing you, and removes his sunglasses. You can see his pretty eyes from up close, and you realise that he’s never really sat on this bed since you’ve come to his house. “Do you want to come with me? They’ve been asking about you for quite some time now.” You look at him silently, “Nah, I don’t… don’t want to barge in.” “You won’t be.” “You’ll get late if you wait for me now.” “It’s not a big deal, most of them will be late anyway.” “Are you going to a nightclub?” “No, we’re going to a barbecue party.” 

Small, private, cosy. You’ll definitely be barging in.

“No Wonwoo, I don’t want to go somewhere where I’m not welcome. And anyway, I’m cool with whatever you’ve told your friends about us.” “I haven’t said anything in particular.” “Well, then you’re good at avoiding things.” “I am. You must’ve been away too long if you’ve forgotten about this.” 

You want to run away. He’s surely talking about avoiding being your husband- and he’s proud about it as well. 

“Then you might avoid it further. There’s no need for me to make a public appearance.”

Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long. His jaw hardens, and you can see his tongue in his cheek. Then he gently pulls your hand into his own, and carefully touches your fingers, purposely avoiding the bit around your wedding ring. The way your fingers seem much smaller compared to his makes you feel a certain way. You pull your hand back, but he doesn’t let go. He ends up pulling you up to stand, so that he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed and you’re standing right in front of him. His fingers are still laced around your own, and you feel sparks at the touch after months. 

“I’m going to show my wife off to my friends. And your excuses are pathetic, darling. You know you want me to show you off as well.” His fingers tighten their grip against your wrist, and you feel the vein in your wrist throbbing around his touch. “So get dressed nicely. I know you clean up well.”

It takes you a solid ten minutes to find something good to wear. Sure, you’re not big on fashion, but you like to look fit for the occasion. Especially if Wonwoo’s dressed up all fancily like that. But when you finally step out of the closet, you’re wearing a beige corset top with a black skirt, and a long black coat with tiny gold details. You find Wonwoo still sitting on your bed, scrolling through his phone. “How do I look?” you ask at the same time as he raises his head to look at you. After checking you out twice from top to toe, he nods slowly, but before you can exhale in relief, he says, “Will you feel cold in that skirt?” “No. And before you ask, I’m not wearing stockings. The coat will be enough.” “Don’t complain if you get cold later. Come down in five.” 

_

When you’re finally in the car, you ask him if you should buy something for the host, since it is New Years’ afterall. “If we bought something for him, the others will be mad at us for not buying something for them too.” You laugh it off, wondering how that could be possible, and proceed to stop at a nearby store to buy one of the trendy perfumes that’s popular amongst men these days. 

You find, not even half an hour later, that it is possible. 

“Wonwoongi! You only brought presents for Mingoo? None for hyung? How will hyung survive without your generosity?” A lanky, beautiful man immediately latches himself onto Wonwoo’s arm as soon as you both enter Mingyu’s house. It’s a pretty bungalow situated a little far from the city, and decorated extravagantly with lights. It’s only after Wonwoo makes it through the first few people crowding near the entryway that everybody notices you. 

There’s a collective gasp going around when everyone turns around and looks at you, smiles galore. And then they all start speaking together, and you get overwhelmed. Wonwoo shushes them all in an uncharacteristically loud voice, and announces, “Since y’all wanted to meet her, this is Y/L/N Y/N, my wife,” and you bow deeply to everyone as everyone greets you back. When you stand upright again, you stumble a bit, not having noticed the thick carpet, and Wonwoo’s quick to grab your hand. He casually interlocks his fingers with yours, and you both make your way into the apartment. 

The first man you meet is Mingyu, the host. You’re shocked to see him, not expecting to see him as the host. So he’s the host. He’s become taller than Wonwoo now, his face still identical to what you remember from high school. It sparks an annoyance in you, as scenes from each sports day of your high school years flashes by. There wasn’t a single time when you hadn’t defeated Mingyu in tennis, badminton and squash. You really loved playing racket sports, and it seemed that so did Mingyu. But not just that- Mingyu’s arrogance was even more childish than that of Wonwoo because he was insanely arrogant about his looks and the number of girls (and boys) thirsting over him every day. Although you hardly met him outside school because he didn’t belong to a chaebol family, you’d actively glare at each other every time you met in school. You wonder what version of these same memories flashed in his mind as you stand in front of him now. 

“It’s been a long time, Y/N-ah. Didn’t imagine that you and Wonwoo would end up married.” It’s a genuine smile, and for a moment, you wonder if you’d had the wrong impression about him all along. “We didn’t imagine it either, trust me.” Wonwoo smiles, and it breaks you out of your reverie. You hand Mingyu the gift, and say, “Thank you for extending your invitation to me.” “There’s no need to be so formal, Y/N-ah. But what’s the need for the gift?” “Since I’m visiting you for the first time… as Mrs. Jeon, I felt I shouldn’t come empty-handed.” Mingyu giggles and nudges Wonwoo’s arm, “Mrs Jeon, hmm? Feels like a Hollywood movie. Thanks Y/N, I’ll use it well!”

Then Wonwoo introduces you to the rest of his friend group one by one. You meet Seungcheol, who you remember all too well. “How the tables have turned, huh?” He chuckles, before handing you a glass of wine. There’s a familiarity in his mysterious smile, that twinkling look in his eyes, that elite tilt of his chin, as if he owned the world, which used to annoy the hell out of you, because to you, he seemed to be the stereotype of the worthless chaebol heirs who’d do nothing in their lives except eat out of their parents’ money. And yet, he’s made it big on his own, if news reports are correct, and perhaps you can find some respect for him now. “I hope we get along better this time, Seungcheol Oppa.” He’s the only man from Wonwoo’s high school group who you would call Oppa, and that was only to tease him because he’d been voted as the Sexiest Oppa of the Year at the end of the high school year. Seungcheol seems to remember that too, because he laughs, and you realise it’s a fond memory, no matter how much annoyance it had sparked in you back then. 

Then there’s Jeonghan, who’d been that beautiful man who’d spoken to Wonwoo earlier with that aegyo nickname of Wonwoongie. who disarms you instantly with his jokes. Joshua, who’s introduced as the gentleman, but you can see the mischief in his doe-like eyes, much too good-looking for his own good. There’s Soonyoung and Seokmin, who are already playing beer pong, laughing and spilling a lot of the beer on the table (and the carpet, but they implore you to not tell Mingyu that). Seungkwan referees them, while he’s wrapped around his boyfriend, who’s extremely charming and interesting. Vernon and you speak for a good two minutes before Seungkwan interrupts you both and takes you to meet Jun. Jun is sitting on the other side of the room, with his girlfriend, Lihua. She’s also Chinese but speaks fluent Korean, as she’s a teacher in Seoul, as she explains.You find out that Jun is an actor in both Korean and Chinese tv shows, and his visuals explain a lot of it, for sure. Then there’s Minghao, who’s busy discussing Met Gala looks over the years with two women, Soyeon (Jihoon’s fiance) and Aeri (Chan’s girlfriend). Chan and Jihoon themselves are missing, but soon you find them in the kitchen, helping Mingyu and his fiance, Hayi, to make cocktails. 

And when the introductions finally end, Wonwoo and you flop down on a couch in one corner, both tired from all that smiling and small talk. 

“Are you sighing so loudly because they’re not nice?” He teases you, as he place an arm around the head of the sofa, successfully cradling you without even touching your body. “Wonwoo. I didn’t know you were still close to Seungcheol and Mingyu.” “Hmm… should I have warned you before bringing you here?” You turn your face away from him, “A warning would have been nice. I wasn’t really ready to see Mingyu’s annoying smile again after all those years of his delinquency.” Wonwoo laughs, and you continue, “But I’m curious. What did you tell them about me that they’re welcoming me with open arms? Did you tell them that I’ve completely changed or something?” “No. They had their reservations too, but it’s not like they could do anything. I told them only a day before we got married.” You open your mouth to refute, but quickly become silent. Not for the first time, you wonder, how had Wonwoo adapted into the marriage so quickly in spite of having nothing to gain and everything to lose. It reminds you of the divorce papers you had asked Jisung to prepare, so you don’t say anything.

Jeonghan comes and sits on your other side too. “Oh, we have another person joining our lazy line, I see.” He giggles as you look confused. “Wonwoo, Hao and I are the lazy line. We run out of battery first. We can’t keep up with the other over-energetic boy.” “But the absolute first is Wonwoo, of course. There’s no end to group photos where he’s yawning in all the shots.” Minghao strolls in, grabs Wonwoo by the arm, calling him to the other room where they’re all playing billiards, and then it’s just you and Jeonghan on the sofa. 

“So, Y/N, I hear that you and Wonwoo have been friends since school?” You laugh, because he can’t have heard that. You know Jeonghan knows you both have never really been friends. He laughs too, and you realise how easily he’s prodded right into the truth. “It’s complicated,” you say safely, as you get a feeling you can’t hide from this man. “And yet I think you’re perfectly fit to be Mrs Jeon, from what I hear.” You laugh again, because genuinely it is a funny statement. You think he’s making a joke- probably about how you both hated each other’s guts in school, or had an equal temper. But no, he’s all serious and he repeats his statement with more sincerity. You twist your lips in confusion, and ask him, “How can you say that?” “Because I know Wonwoo very well. That’s it.” He then laughs a bit and continues, “They call me the Eomma of the group for a reason, you know. They’re all my kids. Even Cheol and Shua.”

And then Wonwoo calls you both to the barbecue which had begun on the outdoor patio. 

_

The party may have begun awkwardly for you but it soon becomes quite exciting. The temperature continues to fall as it becomes darker in the night sky, but everyone’s gathered around the barbecue grill outside so you don’t want to move. The girls are mostly sitting together, sitting cocktails that Mingyu prepares for you, winking every way until he reaches his fiance who exaggeratedly winks back. You sit sandwiched between Aeri and Wonwoo, and while Wonwoo is busy discussing games with Seungcheol, Aeri doesn’t let you feel isolated. You’re included into the group surprisingly quickly, and soon you’re playing drinking games with them. Games you’ve never played before, so you’re obviously totally incapable at defeating them. They seem to play these every other weekend, while you’ve never even heard of these game rules. The reality sends pangs to your heart because it hits harder than ever that you’ve never had a friend group with who you could drink with. Not even a casual drink. Not even a girls’ night out. Not even a pole dance at a strip club. 

“Okay! Let’s play the hongsam game,” Seungkwan shouts out and immediately everyone cheers in agreement. You must be looking confused as hell, because Jihoon quietly leans in to explain the rules simply. Seungkwan and Jihoon show you a small demo, and you nod. You may not have understood fully but you don’t want to hold up others in the game. And so the game goes on for nineteen rounds, and you lose ten of them. You somehow miss the timing every time, or maybe you just don’t know their names well enough. Even Joshua, who messed up the first three times, seems to have caught on, but you’re just stuck. Although they make you feel better about it, laughing with you instead of at you, and reassuring you that it’s okay to make mistakes, you feel embarrassed. It’s not a tough game, just requires hand-eye-brain coordination that you’re sure you’re not lacking in, but perhaps some part of you wants to do better because it’s Wonwoo’s friends you’re playing with, and performing poorly here would mean… well, you don’t know what it would mean, but it doesn’t sit right with you. So you try to be more competitive, and although you keep losing, as the shots go in, it feels less stressful and more fun. You become more familiar with the games, and the S.coups game you’re actually good at, although you have no idea why it’s called the S.coups game and Seungcheol personally makes it a point to threaten anyone who’s about to tell you why it’s called the S.coups game. 

And so, as the night goes by, you become more comfortable. Even if it is still a little awkward, it’s not altogether bad. Mingyu and Seungcheol are being nice to you, although a bit wary. The others have positively welcomed you with open arms. And Wonwoo, well, he’s being a little odd. He’s having a hell lot of fun, being much louder than you’ve ever seen him. He seems more reserved than his friends, but then, his friends are too hyper. And while he doesn’t make direct efforts to talk to you, he’s becoming more touchy by the minute. The first few shots in, he was just putting an arm around your shoulders. Next few shots in, his hands are properly rubbing all over your bare arms as he makes you open the coat when you say your body’s getting warm with all the soju. When you feel the buzz of alcohol getting more serious by the second, his right hand, the same one which had held your hand earlier that day, places itself on your thigh and refuses to move. It’s splayed all over your thigh, nearly covering from end to end, and there’s not much skin showing anyway, but with his hand, it feels like you should’ve worn a shorter skirt. 

Wonwoo’s favourite game is the mafia one. The game app somehow generates him to be mafia three out of four times, and he has way too much fun killing the innocent citizens who seem to be completely deceived by him. Wonwoo’s too good at lying, you realise, when you’re taken aback each time on finding out he’s the mafia although you’re sitting right next to him. The fifth round, you both are mafias, and after the penultimate round of guessing, when you two are the only mafias left alive and you lock eyes to decide who to kill, you giggle at the way he’s staring you down. 

“I say, Soyeon. She’s the closest to guessing me out.” You say seriously, but his eyes aren’t even on your eyes. They’re fixed lower, at your lips, but you panic and shift away from him. Now his eyes look up at yours, confused, but you’re guessing he’s just drunk. He would never behave like this if he were sober. 

“I say let’s get out of here. While their eyes are still closed.” He smirks, whispering hotly in front of your face, and you feel red all over. 

“Wonwoo! They’re your friends.” “So what? They love you already. They wouldn’t be mad at you for leaving, if that’s what you’re thinking.” “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re having so much fun, why would you want to leave?” “Because I know I could have more fun with you with my face under that skirt of yours.” You’re blushing again. “You don’t want to know the number of times I’ve left fun gatherings like this to fuck you in my car, sweetheart. This time, at least, they’ll understand better.” You blush even harder, with the way he’s speaking. It’s making your heart beat too loudly. You know it’s because you both are drunk, but you’ve never been able to resist it when he talks dirty to you. And now his hand starts squeezing your thigh, so you’re left wondering what it would feel like if his face was under your sk-

“Oh for fucks sake! I know it’s Wonwoo and Y/N with all this whispering, I’m sitting next to y’all, guys!” Aeri whines from next to you, and the moment is broken. Everyone opens their eyes and Wonwoo’s hand stop squeezing, although it’s still on your thigh. “If you’re going to undress each other, just go home!” Chan says, and you laugh. “I’m not leaving the party even if Wonwoo does, just so you know. I’m having way too much fun.” Aeri and Hayi hug you from one end, pulling you away from Wonwoo. “Yes,” says Hayi, “we’re not letting you go either. Boring mafia men can leave if they like.” So they pull you away from Wonwoo and you end up sitting somewhere far away from him, between Joshua and Minghao, and it’s nice to be around people who aren’t game aces either and you can have a lot more fun because they’re not as serious as Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzes in your pocket, so you take it out. There’s a text from Wonwoo. 

I wasn’t kidding, Y/N. I really want to get out of here with you.

_

Twenty minutes later, you’ve bid the last round of goodbyes, hugging Jeonghan and exchanging numbers with most of them, while they whine about why Wonwoo gatekept you for so long. Even Seungcheol and Mingyu joke around you, showing that they’ve become more comfortable around you. Perhaps growing up has taken away some of their jerk attitude from them. 

Wonwoo’s already leaning against his car when you walk out of the house. You know he’s drunk with the way his eyes check you out without any filter, and you’re also drunk and out of your inhibitions. You try not to get into your head as he opens the door for you, and you get inside the warm car. Wonwoo joins you in the backseat, and the chauffeur drives you out slowly. 

But somehow, being in the car now, away from the dopamine of the party, and the general excitement from having a surprisingly fun evening with strangers, the overthinking does kick in. Wonwoo doesn’t say a word, but his hand has returned on your thigh, and you let it be there. But you can’t help but think, is he finding you attractive only because he’s under the influence? 

So you ask him that, when you both get out of the car and he opens the door to the apartment. Drunk, dishevelled Wonwoo looks glorious in the night light, his dark hair falling over his eyes, which are hooded in desire as plain as day. “Are you fucking serious, woman?” That’s all he says, before he pushes you against the back of the same entry door, and puts his hand under your skirt. He finds you panties as an obstruction so he pushes them aside before kissing you and entering one finger inside your cunt simultaneously. You immediately melt under his touch, not just because it’s been months since Wonwoo’s touched you, but also because you’re feeling so relieved he’s still attracted to you. At least the farce hasn’t repelled him away this far. 

So you don’t speak any words. You both stay silent except the sounds he forces out of you. You come embarrassingly fast with just two fingers up your vagina, and his mouth creating hickeys all over your neck. “Fuck, Wonwoo, I-” “Shit you’re still coming- your whore pussy’s thanking Sir for taking care of her after so long?” You moan his name harder, your entire body writhing under his touch as he drags out your climax under his touch. “Yes, Sir.” “And what to good girls say in gratitude?” You can barely form the words but you say it, “Thank- thank you, Sir!”

“Where do you wanna take it, hmm? To my bedroom which you’ve taken over? Or my bedroom where you’ve exiled me to?” He picks you up and shrugs off your coat, and you wrap your legs around him, stretching the skirt. “It doesn’t matter.”

So he takes you to the bedroom where he’s sleeping these days. He flunks you on the bed, and you tumble to fall on your face. The sheets smell like him, and you breathe in his scent. You don’t want to sleep anywhere else after this- only next to him, if this is what his bed smells like. 

He leans in from behind you, and unhooks your top and skirt, leaving you in your underwear. Your panties are ruined, so he makes quick work of removing them. But he keeps the bra on, and gently slides in under you until your pussy is on his face as he prepares to eat you out from behind. His hands are splayed over your ass, and as soon as his tongue makes contact with your already abused vagina, you scream out his name. But he doesn’t stop- he continues, his tongue harshly fucking your cunt. When he’s done making you orgasm again like that, and you’re done screaming his name into his pillow, he finally moves away from you. You fall limp on the bed, as you hear him take off his clothes. Eventually he cages you from behind, and slowly fills you up from behind, one hand on your neck and the other rubbing your nipple over your bra. 

So he fucks you like that, his cold chain makes sparks every time it brushes against your spine. “Sir, please! Faster, please-” Wonwoo doesn’t reply to any of your begging, but he responds physically to everything you say, by doing the exact opposite and dragging out your misery. His hands don’t leave your nipples as he leisurely fucks you. “Fuck, Y/N, not even four months, and you’re tight like a virgin again.” Your hands slip and weakly try to clutch at the bedsheets, but you feel useless, like a toy, and he feels every inch of skin which he’s missed out on all this time. You don’t know what he’s looking like now, but his hand presses your head down on the pillow softly, and his grunts and moans are soft enough to be enveloped by your own louder moans and pants.

“Please, I’m begging you, please- pl- faster- Sir!” And the second he lifts his body away from yours, thrusting into you faster, you spasm and orgasm right there, and it triggers his orgasm too. The warmth of his cum flowing inside you stays there as he gently falls down on your body, panting. When he begins to pull out, you whine, unable to say anything but he gets the message. He lies down next to you softly, without pulling out for a few minutes. When your body finally comes down from the high, you go limp around his body, and Wonwoo gently pulls out. 

“I’ll clean you up.” “I’m sleepy…” “Yeah, then sleep.” And then you pass out.

_

When you wake up the next morning, Wonwoo is, unsurprisingly, not next to you, although his side of the bed is not cold. It feels like an upgrade, and you take what you can get. For the first time since you’ve gotten married, you’ve slept together and the thought of it makes you pleased for some reason. 

“Morning,” he walks in, before you can properly wake up. He’s wearing a peach-coloured hoodie with sweatpants, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Is that for me?” “No, I didn’t know if you were up.” “Okay, I’ll go and get my own.”

So you do. You brush your teeth and make your coffee and return to the bedroom, and Wonwoo’s still sitting there, his back leaning against the headboard. For a second, you feel like you’re stepping into someone else’s married life, but then you realise it’s yours. It makes you giddy. You don’t understand why- it’s not like you’ve ever craved for Wonwoo, or anyone, in this way. But somehow, you’ve warmed up well to the idea of having him as your … partner. There’s nobody who could be an equal match to you, to be honest. Either they’d be seriously less intelligent and you would be able to hold no conversation with them, or they’d be arrogant as fuck if they were smarter than you, and they’d make it a point to make you feel lesser, always. So Wonwoo is the perfect match for you. 

Although, Wonwoo could surely find someone better. Jeonghan’s words float in your brain once again, and you fight the urge to contradict him. Mrs Jeon could definitely be someone else- someone who’s less distant from Wonwoo, someone he could love truly deeper than just skin-level attraction, someone who would want to be with him for real feelings and not just a facade.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about, Wonwoo.” 

“Yeah, me too.” You both sit against the headboard, bodies far apart, as if repelled again by magnetic force, no matter how close you were last night. 

“Okay, you go first then.”

So he says, “Last night was… a mistake. I know it sounds cliche, but it’s true. I don’t… want to do this with you.”

Oh fuck. You did not see that coming. Sure, the relationship could have been a mistake. Getting married without him getting anything out of it could have been a mistake. Continuing this marriage after your dad’s treatment was successful could have been a mistake. But last night? Last night had felt so right to you. There was no one who knew your body like Wonwoo did, and you knew it went the other way round too. Then how could he say that?

He continues, “I don’t want to be fuckbuddies with you like this, Y/N. We got married for a goal, and now that goal’s been fulfilled and…”

“And you want a divorce. I get it.” 

He looks at you with confusion, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed. “No, that’s not what I said.” 

“That’s what you meant. I’m an adult, Wonwoo, don’t teach me nuances.” You get off the bed and walk away. 

“Y/N, you’ve got to hear me out when I’m saying something.”

“Wonwoo, I already know what you’re trying to say.” 

“Fuck you, Y/N. This is why it’s not possible to have a proper conversation with you.”

“You’ll get what you want, Wonwoo. Don’t worry. Thanks for telling me, I needed to know.”

_

It feels good to get back to work after so long. The familiar sound of people typing away on their laptops and the busy movement of people everywhere, it brings peace to your heart. There are people hovering around you, hoping to speak to you, but Jisung somehow brings you to your office without you having to say anything more than good morning and happy new year to anyone. 

It’s only when you enter the office and you see the pending paperwork that you realise just how much you’ve missed. There’s a deal with Lee Corp. that’s sitting on your desk, and Jisung presents it to you with a proud smile. “We got it done, Ma’am. Every detail you wanted, to the t.” You don’t know how to respond, because it’s unbelievable. “But how?” This is your dream- signing a contract with Lee Corp., the leading organisation for facilitating stools for robotic surgery in Korea. Although your technology has always been more modern, they’ve retained their large market share because of simply how long they’ve sustained in the business- after all, when it comes to health, trust comes before modernity for customers. 

“Jeon Wonwoo-ssi set up the deal for us. The Deputy CEO and myself attended the meeting, I can share the minutes with-”

“Wait, stop. Wonwoo, you said?” 

“Yes Ma’am, I… did he not tell you? He told me he’d tell you.” Jisung looks genuinely confused, so you know it’s futile to investigate him further. 

“Well, as you can see, it’s news to me.”

“There is a meeting today, at noon, Ma’am, I need to brief you about the details before you-” 

“I’ll get the details directly from Wonwoo, thanks Jisung. Ask my chauffeur to get my car ready please. I’ll be back before the meeting.”

_

Wonwoo’s office building is bustling with the same energy as your own, and you face no trouble finding his office. So you walk right in. 

“What’s this I’m hearing?” He’s standing next to a shorter man showing him something on a tablet, but he immediately leaves when he sees you, bowing quickly. “I was busy, Y/N, you can’t just walk in like that as if you own the place.” He walks up to you, and gently closes the door, before leaning against it and asking you, in that fucking relaxed expression he always has, “What’s the matter?” 

“You fixed a deal with Lee Corp. for my company?” 

“What about it?” 

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“I thought it was best not to disturb you when you were busy with your father.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Wonwoo, this is literally the most important event that can turn my career around forever, and you choose not to tell me-”

“So you’d rather I invade your privacy for this? I’d arranged it so that it would be closed only after your return anyway, so it’s not like-”

“It’s exactly like you were making deals behind my back! God knows what subscript you’ve mentioned in the clauses with the Lees- yeah, step one: get into a trusting contract with Y/N, step two: slowly overtake all her market power, step three: make the company so weak that Jeon Estates can easily take over.” 

You’ve taken a step closer with every word, and now you’re standing at a hair’s distance from Wonwoo, who’s just staring at you. “For god’s sake, Jeon Wonwoo, say something!” 

And then, he fucking laughs. It’s a bitter laugh, one with no mirth, and it makes goosebumps rise on your flesh. 

“You’re mad, Y/N. You’re paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch, and I can’t even be mad at you because I knew this is how you’ve been all along and yet, I can’t fucking stop myself from falling in love with you every damn day!” 

It’s your turn to go speechless. The documents in your hands fall limply to the floor, as your jaw opens and you stay rooted in one spot, stunned beyond belief. “You… what?”

“You were so fucking right every time you called me a dumbass, Y/N. Because I am one.” He laughs again, taking off his glasses with one hand, and rubbing his eyes with another. Then he stops laughing and when he wears his glasses again, his face looks twenty years older. 

“Wonwoo… I’m not understanding.”

“You will never understand. Because you don’t have a fucking heart. One would think I have a masochism kink- the way you kick me out every day and I come back to you like a dog. Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to take over your company? I’ve told you before- I have enough ways and means to bring you down already had I really wanted to. For fucks’ sake, it’d take a minute for me to destroy your reputation by spreading a rumour about how you wanted to bang me just because you thought it was a great way to get your dad to get into treatment.”

“You still could-”

“I’ve never taken advantage of you- never. I’ve respected you, with as much as I could. When you’ve been petty, when you’ve been oversmart, when you’ve been angry. And you think I’m really interested in destroying you? No, Y/N, if there’s anything I feel towards you and your professional career, it’s admiration. And respect.”

“Don’t lie to my face, Jeon.”

He laughs again, and kneels down so that he’s looking away from you, down at the floor, his body no longer held up in his usual manly stature. 

“I’m so tired of running around and playing these games with you, Y/N. I’ve admired you since you’d been promoted two classes at once in ninth grade.”

“That is a lie. You’d gone right after that class to bitch about me, very loudly, to your friends, about how I’d been promoted only because my dad’s business was flourishing.” 

“It was a front, because all of my friends, and mind you, I don’t mean Mingyu and Seungcheol, had become pissed at you for it. I had to… I don’t know… be popular? I couldn’t be any more of a loser than I already was. I’d lost a year as it is for breaking my leg and not being able to attend classes, and then… owning up that your intelligence and intellect amazed me and got me on my fucking knees would mean I’d no longer be the cool boy in class who everybody wanted to be with.” 

You kneel down next to him, imploring him to look into your eyes. But he steadfastly avoids eye contact- and you feel the floor slip away from your feet. Things you’d believed for years… hearing them become untrue… hearing them being simple misunderstandings… it was too frightening and too overwhelming to be believable. 

“But there’s not been a moment these last dozen years when I’ve not had my heart beat fast whenever I think about you… see you. I’d accepted your harsh words and your cold attitude as the norm because… I knew it was because I’d not behaved very nicely with you either, and I was to be blamed for it after all. But I took what I could get. A beggar cannot be a chooser, you know?” 

And he finally looks at you. 

And finally you can read Jeon Wonwoo. Every expression is as clear as day on his face. His eyes clouded with betrayal and pain, his lips twitching, seconds away from breaking down, his hands pale and trembling. You want to walk away, be a coward again, run away and escape to your bubble of yourself and only yourself. But you also want to take his hand, and feel the truth he’s speaking coursing through his veins buzz out into your own skin.

So you do that. 

For once in twenty six years, you do the brave thing. 

You sit down completely on the floor, and you lean forward to face him, and touch the tips of his fingers. You’re surrounded by the flurry of papers you’d brought to him, but in this moment, when the current of his touch matches the voltage running in your mind, you forget what they were. He looks away, and says, “Everything about you was so electrifying. You were the first woman who had never pedestalized me for my money and my position in society. The first woman who’d made me feel like just another human being. The first woman who I’d been unable to seduce with just a casual look. The first woman who threw a challenge at me with not just her attitude but also her smartness. And boy, you know how competitive I can be.”

“I was okay with being fuckbuddies too, you know. This way, I didn’t have to pine over you from a corner of the room at social gatherings and wonder how you smelt. I didn’t have to look at you from the other side of the cafeteria at school and imagine how it would feel to kiss the cream off the corner of your lips. And I fucking loved it. I loved being able to hold you close, make you mine. I- well… the first night you’d hooked up with me? If you’d not come back to me yourself, I would have begged you and confessed that very night. I would have cried at your feet to let me be your lover.”

There’s a single tear falling off his cheek and onto the point where your fingers touch. He doesn’t look at you. The sky outside darkens with the impending rain, making the room infinitely darker than it was earlier. 

“And then… when you’d asked me to stop… the world had broken down on me. I’d given up on making you want to like me- but,” and he laughs again, that broken, mirthless laugh, “a man can dream, can he not?”

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry.” you whisper. You know it’s pointless, but you still want to say it.

“For what Y/N? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve just shown me my place.”

“For hurting you. I didn’t know…”

“No you… you didn’t even know you were hurting me. You were just being you.”

“And it’s sick that I hurt you so much when I was just being myself.” 

There’s a long minute of silence, as he looks up at you. Lightning cracks on the horizon outside, your body shivering with the sudden sound of thunder, and his hands withdraw from your own.

“Y/N, I don’t want to interfere in your life any longer. I’ve lived happily this last year, being so close to you, even when I knew it wasn’t in the way I wanted. But last night…”

“Wonwoo. I-”

“It was a mistake because I can’t do this so casually anymore, Y/N. I don’t want to wake up next to you just like that, Y/N. I don’t want to be married to you on paper, Y/N. I don’t want to pretend in front of my friends and not make you mine in public. Seungcheol and Mingyu accepted you fully… because they knew just how smitten I’ve been with you forever.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a lopsided, winsome smile, as he continues, “That day in the amusement park? You’d been so mad at me for no fault of mine at all, but you’d been so cute when you’d lolled all over my shoulder and clutched onto my clothes for your dear life. That time you’d made your first speech as your father’s heir to the company, I swear I could’ve run to you and kissed you right there, you’d been so hot up on stage, in the spotlight, right where you belong.”

He starts standing up, looking away from you. He begins picking up the first paper next to him. 

“Oh, you bought the divorce papers.” 

You spring up to attention at once, and snatch it away from him. “Wonwoo, I-”

“No, thanks for bringing them. Thank you for putting me out of my misery of this awful mirage called hope.”

“No, please, I-”

“I see you’ve already signed-” 

“Wonwoo! Just please listen to me?”

He finally pauses in his tracks and looks at you. “You’ve said enough, Y/N-ah. You’ll get the divorce you so want. And if you like, I’ll ask Jihoon to put in a word to take away the deal as well. If you feel so threatened-”

“Wonwoo, hold up. Jihoon?”

“Yeah? You didn’t know? His cousin is the CEO of Lee Corp. currently.”

He picks up a pen to sign, and you literally lunge yourself on his body. It’s cinematic, a little unreal, but you do it out of desperation. It results in you being draped all over his body, as he falls back on his desk. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up. Let me talk,” and you clamp a hand on his mouth before he can say another word. You take a deep breath, as his eyes widen for a second, but then he stabilises himself on his desk and waits for you to continue. 

“I’ll admit it, I’ve been an awful person. I’ve been mean, selfish, and paranoid- and yes, while I may have been justified to some extent, I … should’ve trusted you. It’s absurd though- had I not trusted you at all, how could I ever submit to you even in sex? How could I trust you with my body at my weakest, most out-of-control moments? Perhaps, deep down, I knew that, no matter how much we sparred with our words and our eyes, we… you would never harm me. And I think you know I wouldn’t have harmed you either, really. Because you’ve been nothing if not my twin spirit. You’ve been the only person competitive enough to challenge me. You’ve been the only man who hasn’t given me up even when I threw tantrums. And I want to stop talking in the past tense. Even in the future, I see… I see you as the only man who’d ever really understand me. If I tell you I need a week to just cut off from the world and focus on my work, you’d understand me. If I tell you, Wonwoo, I… well fuck it, I didn’t even need to tell you that I don’t like being lonely every New Years’ Eve, did I? You agreed to be my ally when our families turned against us. You agreed to be my husband when I hadn’t even asked you about it. You’ve… you’ve shown me that a world beyond me exists, you’ve shown me that I’m not the only person in this world I can care about, and you’ve shown me that you don’t need to be loud and obvious when you want to do things for others. And I haven’t even shown gratitude for it. So you’re right when you call me a paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch.” He shakes his head, but you only laugh a little. “No you’re right. You are. Wonwoo, I… these last few weeks. When I was away, with my dad? I didn’t think it was love but… I did think it was longing. I didn’t even know when I’d gotten used to not living alone at home. I didn’t even know when I’d developed the habit of waiting till 10 pm to see you enter the house after working out, sweaty and your muscles bulging. I’d told you I had become dependent on you as a way to relieve my stress? Well, turns out now I’ve become dependent on you for attention, for affection, for a way to cure my loneliness. I am a paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch because I’ve been so lonely for years. Apart from my parents and my sister, I… I’ve never had anyone else. And I thought it was�� a strength of mine … until I grew up and realised just how lonely I had become. And then… I found you, I guess? Even when we just had sex, it was better than spending all those nights alone, drinking on my own. Even when you’d tie me up to your bedpost for hours on that stupid yellow vibrator of yours, it was more intimate than anything else, and simply because… you even read my face and understood when I was reaching my boundaries. And I’m having all these epiphanies right now, and I feel like a fool for priding myself on my smartness, because truly, what have I gained if I’ve lost you?”

And then, he wrings his hands free and leans over you, and kisses you. Kisses you with his mouth open, his eyes on yours as he gauges your expressions turn from surprise, to wonder, to thrill. When he’s finally kissed you out of breath, you pull away from him to breathe in and feel alive again, only to find that the roles have switched and he’s got you pinned against his desk now. 

“Baby, if only… if only I’d known, that your pretty mind was having so many epiphanies, I’d have not left you on the bed alone in the morning. Tell me you don’t really want the divorce, tell me what you said right now was not a joke?”

“It’s not… I don’t want a divorce, please Wonwoo. I had only got them prepared because I thought you’d want them- but…” 

“Well, I deserve to be treated like a shithead for not making you feel just how badly I want to hold on to this marriage. Because even if it is fake…”

“Wonwoo, shh… it’s not fake if I love you, right?” You say, experimentally, hoping you’re doing the right thing now by being brave, and when he doesn’t reply for a second, your brain goes on a spiral again, but then he must know it because he kisses you again. “Say that again, princess.” So you do. He asks you three more times, and each time, he punctuates his sentences with kisses on your face, and you blush harder each time you admit that yes, you have fallen in love with Jeon Wonwoo. The last person you’d expect to fall for… but it’s true, and it’s real, and it’s warm and novel with how it’s coursing through your veins. 

“I love you too, Y/N, if you’ll really have me.” So you kiss him back, your tongues lazily sliding against each other, the sensation making you numb. It feels good to kiss Wonwoo, but it feels even better to kiss your lover Wonwoo, you realise, and you go back for a million more kisses, before the grandfather’s clock in his room rings out and reminds you that it is noon. 

“Wonwoo… Fuck! I’d forgotten,” you whisper as he kisses you down your neck, lavishing every inch of your skin. “The meeting with the Lees!” “Oh.” He looks up at you. “I’ll call Jihoon and ask him to reschedule. Can’t let work get in the way of pleasure, right now, Mrs. Jeon. Not when I can finally make love to you like you’re mine.” You giggle at his words, unimaginably corny. But you can’t deny how good it makes you feel. “Wait, who said I’m yours?” “Fuck, don’t mess with me, woman. You- you just said!” “I am, relax! It’s a joke, Mr. Jeon. I see your cheesiness has changed now… but your sense of humour is just as poor as before.” He snarls against your lips, although it’s sexy in a way. “I’ll not let you go for comments like that, you know?”

_

So he doesn’t. He calls Jihoon and reschedules the meeting, and then he drives you home, in his car. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, his hand wrapped in yours, as he pauses at every red light to kiss you. “I still can't believe it.” “You’ve got me here, Jeon. I’m not going away.” You can see the way his hands tremble, but you hold on tight. You’re telling him as much as you’re telling yourself, you’re never going away. 

It’s still raining outside, but he covers your head with his blazer as he picks you up and carries you all the way upstairs to his apartment, doesn’t even lower you in the elevator. Thankfully there’s only an ahjumma inside the elevator, who doesn’t seem to mind, only giggles when you apologise. “It’s okay. I know how lovesick men can be,” she says, before she gets down at her designated floor. 

And then he doesn’t stop kissing you. He doesn’t leave your mouth even when the elevator door opens and you both walk out into your apartment. He doesn’t leave your mouth when you shrug off your heels and he takes off his own shoes. He doesn’t leave your mouth when he directly takes you all the way to the master bedroom, and just plops you down on the bed, you nearly springing up with the impact. 

“Wonwoo?” You ask when he turns away and walks into the closet, only to return with a box that’s too familiar to you. It has all your toys in it. “Do you know, Mrs. Jeon, just how cruel you’ve been by forcing me to see these every time I open the drawer to take out my underwear? He opens it slowly, showing you the three dildos inside, and the bullet vibrator Wonwoo himself had bought for you. “Every time I see them, it feels like you’re cheating on me, because fuck, how can anything give you pleasure when I literally exist?” His words are cheesy again, but in that dirty way which is so on brand for him. You’re leaking under the suit pants already, you know that. 

“Wonwoo… I… you know I don’t use them when you’re around.”

“And you shouldn’t have to use them ever. Not when I’m here to fuck you good like you deserve, like the cumslut you are, hmm?” He presses a finger under your chin, taking in a good look at you from above, before he orders, “Strip.”

So you do. He takes his sweet time watching you strip, while taking out one dildo from your box and his favourite ties. When you’re down to your underwear, he pauses you and extends a hand waiting for something. You know what’s coming, so you just extend your hands to him and let him tie you up. He smirks at your gesture, so he ties you up the poles of the bed. He also uses another tie to wrap around your eyes, and then he gently peels off your panties. “God, fuck. You smell heavenly.” Did he just sniff your underwear? “Wonwoo! Don’t!” There’s a sharp spank on your pussy, exposed to him in its wet glory, and you crumble instantly. “Little baby girls don’t tell Sir what to do and what not to do, hmm? They just take it as they’re given.” So he spanks you again, and it sends shivers through your body. Just the thought of fucking in the broad daylight seems like a sin, but then… isn’t this what married couples do?

You realise that Wonwoo’s seated himself next to you, and he’s gently taken your head into his lap. His hand is already playing with your clit, and you feel something cold and liquidy being rubbed over your pussy flesh. Lube? He’s still fully dressed, and you can feel the cold metal of his watch graze against your sensitive thigh, making you hiss in pleasure. 

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been taught a lesson, darling. Seems like getting married has made you feel like you’re beyond Sir’s control. But that’s not how it goes, is it?” You whisper out, “No… No Sir.” “Good girl. If you want to be treated like you’re married, then you’ve gotta earn it, yes? Now. Can you take one finger?” He inserts his finger gently, which is coated in the cold substance you’re assuming is lube. It isn’t really necessary, given how wet you are already, but it feels hotter when the lube is so cold inside you. 

You nod. “Words.” “Yes, I can.” So he slowly pumps it in, before saying, “Can you take two fingers?” You whimper as he stretches you by putting in two fingers. “Yes Sir.” “That’s a good girl.” The praise is making your head spin.

“And can you take-” he puts in another damn finger, “three fingers?” Now it’s a real burn. It’s in till his knuckles all too quickly but you can’t say no because you want to please. “Quick, princess. Don’t keep me waiting. Yes or n-” “Yes! I can. I will. I’m a good girl, Sir?” He pumps all three fingers deep until it hits your spot, and you scream out his name. “Such a good girl. Now fuck yourself on those fingers thinking that’s Sir’s cock.” 

You push up your hips, and he thrusts in, meeting your halfway. And then he sets the pace, as he fucks into you relentlessly, his other hand gently wrapping around your jaw and you take out your tongue, almost drooling, until he puts a finger inside your mouth too. You just know he’s smirking right now, with you being desperate for something in your mouth too, but you can’t care less. 

Your orgasm hits you as soon as he orders gently, “Cum for me, pretty baby.” But when you come down from your high, he doesn’t take his fingers out. He gently pumps in your cum into your system again, and you writhe with sensitivity. But he uses his other hand to stop you, as he takes it out of your mouth. “Now, can you take a dildo along with these fingers?” You gasp, because it’s not imaginable. “No, I… it’s too much, Sir.” “Is it? I don’t think it’s bigger than your husband’s dick, is it?” And fuck, you can’t stop yourself from clenching at that. It’s crazy how hot he makes it sound, but it feels amazing when he calls himself your husband. And he must feel your cunt clenching around his fingers as well, because he whispers near your ear, “Oh Mrs Jeon likes that, huh? Too bad she can’t take her husband’s cock then, because it’s too much-” “No I can take it! I can- I can fit in my husband’s cock.” You can hear the way Wonwoo grunts, as he plunges his fingers deeper into your cunt. “But first, I’ve got to train you, yes? You’ve become too unruly. You want to be the perfect wife, don’t you?” “Fuck!” you can’t form words as you clench around his fingers hopelessly, overstimulation forgotten, and buck up your hips to help him reach your spot. He just laughs and begins fucking you again, all three of his thick fingers snugly fit inside you till the knuckles. 

“Can you feel my wedding ring inside, baby?” He whispers again, and you cry out his name continuously as he drives you to a new high, so familiar, and yet so new. He’s your husband now, fuck. It’s a revelation that hits harder in the middle of sex, and you come instantly, coating his fingers with your essence. 

“Oh, my cockslut’s eager to please her husband, is she? So eager to be the perfect wife, is she?” 

“Yes, yes! Please- pl- I just want-”

“Want?”

“Please fuck me Wonwoo!”

He immediately removes his fingers from your pussy and you scream out as you feel empty. “Aaah! Please!” 

“I’m not making any girl who’s forgotten rules in the bedroom, feel good.” He takes off the tie that was wrapped around your eyes, and you notice that he’s not leaning down at you, his glasses still on, but his eyes dark with hunger. God, he’s hot.

“I’m sorry Sir.”

There’s a sharp spank to your clit, and you jump. It’s too much, but in the best way possible. 

“I’ll ask you again. Can you take three fingers and one of those dildos you love so much that you torture your husband with its sight every day?” He doesn’t break eye contact, and you whimper in front of him, pathetic and desperate. 

“Yes, Sir. I can.”

“Open your mouth.” 

Wordlessly, you do, and he spits into your mouth. Then he puts in the dildo. As you see the purple dildo, which is considerably slimmer than Wonwoo’s dick, but about the same length, enter your pussy, you notice how much Wonwoo’s gaze has hardened. Is he really jealous of that damn toy? It’s funny, so you buck your hips up to meet the way he’s slowly fucking you with the plastic dildo, and his eyes become more dangerous. 

“Are you that desperate for it, darling?”

“I want to feel full, Sir.” 

And then something in Wonwoo snaps. He wraps three fingers around the head of the dildo and along with the fingers, he plunges the dildo into you, stretching you out much more than before. The burn eases out after a second, but he fucks you at an incredibly slow pace, which only makes you eager for more. “Faster, please!” “You want me to fuck you with this plastic toy how I fuck you with my cock?” “Yes! I d- I do! I just want to feel full!” Then his other hand finds its way to your tits and twists a nipple hard enough to make it painful. “You’re such a whore, Y/N. Just a pretty whore. You’d take any cock just to keep your holes filled?” “No! I … I only like it when Sir does it for me.” “Liar. Just now you’re so happy to take this dildo, huh?” You can’t even think straight with the pace he’s torturing you at, but you do reply, “That’s- aah! Only- only because Sir’s fucking me with it. Because I can feel your wedding ring inside me, Sir!” 

“Fuck!” There’s another sharp pinch at your nipple before Wonwoo begins fucking you faster, and it only takes you a minute before he’s bringing you to yet another high which leaves you dizzy. 

“God, you’re left speechless. Does Mr Jeon fuck you that good?” He leans it to kiss you, his wet fingers now wrapped around your breasts. You can feel the way your cum still sticks on his fingers, but it feels too good to be gross. You kiss him back, arching your back off the bed, until he pulls away. 

He stands up from the bed, and languidly takes off his clothes. “So pretty like this, princess. Legs all spread out for who?”

“You, Wonwoo. My husband.” 

He stops his movements and stares at you for a second. It seems like calling him husband has the same effect on him as the effect on you when he calls you wife. “Yes, you’re right. Your husband.” He sits next to you to kiss you again and this time, you try to sit upright, in spite of your hands still being tied. When he breaks off, he says, “So let me train you to be my wife, hmm? I want to fuck you so good that your pussy shapes itself around me. That you won’t even need prep when I want to fuck you because it’ll be so used to me.” Oh, no wonder for that size training. “Why? Does your cock get bigger now that you’re my husband?” He smirks, eyes cruel because you’re talking back to him. “No, because I need to fit in perfectly to ensure none of my seed leaves you when I’m breeding you.” And then he attacks your neck, and you’re moaning even before his lips hit skin because his words flip some switches in you that you’ve never even known. Sure, Wonwoo’s always fucked you raw because you’ve been on pills for years, but the idea of him breeding a child into you? Fuck. You’d never even thought about having a child, but this idea turns you on remarkably insanely. 

Soon his shirt is off and he unties your hands. “Take off my pants for me, baby.” And you do. You tease him a bit, but that’s only fair with how hard he’s sucking your breasts, as if he’s born to do this. Before taking off his boxers, you notice the precum that’s leaking out so much that it’s made the fabric quite wet. So you lick his dick clean while it’s still inside his boxers, and you’ve got him hissing and grunting like never before. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t,” he pulls your head away. “Why?” He must notice the way his precum is still sticking on your lips, because he groans again. “I want to cum inside you. Breed you full, baby.” That puts a shy smile on your face as he takes off his underwear, and you finally see his cock upright, leaking and bright red. And perhaps you’re delusional after all those orgasms, but it does seem bigger than before. 

“Please, Mr Jeon, take me.” And he responds to your begging. He kisses you softly, as he lines himself up with you, his left hand still pulling your hands up above your head, and your right hand clutching your hips in an iron grip that will leave marks. And then he just enters, without warning, till the hilt, and you both moan out at the sensation. You don’t know why it feels different, but with how he’s kissing you, almost softly and gently, like he’s a gentleman, while fucking you ruthlessly like he’s in rut, you’re in heaven for sure. 

It’s also the first time Wonwoo is so audible during sex. He’s panting and moaning, although much softer than you, but his sounds spur you on even harder. He can’t stop whispering your name and other pet names in your ears, while you keep moaning his name loud even to burst his eardrums. He doesn’t care. He responds to every word you utter, every little request you beg, and he fucks you fast and hard, until he can’t hold on any further and his entire body is trembling with the incoming orgasm. “Mrs Jeon, can you cum with me?” “Yes, please, Sir.” And so you do, releasing into each other while still making out with each other. It feels like you’ve entered a different dimension of pleasure, and Wonwoo is here with you. It’s a safe feeling beyond description, and you pass out right there.

_

When you do wake up, you find Wonwoo sitting next to you with a cloth in his hands, wiping gently at your legs. 

“How long have I been out?” 

“About ten minutes?”

He doesn’t answer smoothly. You can see the way his hands move softly, almost worshipping. 

“I love you, Wonwoo.”

Then he looks up at you, and you see the way his eyes are quivering. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “No, tell me.” “Nothing just-” You sit up, and take his hands in your own. Then you nod at him, gently urging him on. 

“Was it too much?”

“Huh?”

“Did I push you too much?”

“No. I would’ve used my safeword if you did.”

“But what if you forgot the safeword in the middle of it all- what if you got too pushed by me-”

“I wasn’t, and that’s what matters. I remember it all the time, Wonwoo, you… the traffic lights aren’t really easy to forget. I would tap out somehow if I felt like too much. But it wasn’t, so where’s this coming from?”

“Nothing… I… I hope you’re not just taking it from me because I’m your husband now.”

And at that, you laugh. “Hell, nah, Wonwoo. You know I wouldn’t take it from you even if you were god. You’ve really got me all wrong, then.”

He smiles weakly, and you know it’s still on his mind. So you move over to sit gently on his lap. “Wonwoo, when I said earlier that you know my limits. I wasn’t lying, you know. You do. You don’t push me too much.”

“But if I ever do-”

“If you ever do, you should know that I’ll tap out at once and never forgive you. You always make me feel safe, Wonwoo.” And you hug him, and the fact that you’re both naked makes your hug even warmer and softer as you feel Wonwoo’s hands wrap around your back as well. 

“I love you too, Y/N. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.” And then he kisses your forehead, and you snuggle your face right into the crook of his neck. He smells… like Wonwoo, and it feels like home. 

“Now, how about some lunch, baby?”

“You’re hungry when I had to do all the work?” You gasp while still tucked into his neck, and he giggles with the way your breath tickles his neck. 

“So what does my pretty wife want?”

“She just wants to cuddle you and sleep.” 

“And my wife’s wishes are my commands.”

So he lays down, with you still on top of him like a koala, and pulls the blankets over you both, wrapping you into one tiny ball. You look at him with a fond smile, and you see your expression mirrored in his. “I love you so much, Y/N-ah.”

“And I love you, Wonwoo. I could love nobody else apart from you.”

[trans-axolotl]

US Harm Reduction Resources

continually updating, not a complete list. feel free to add on any resources you find helpful.

Free Safer Supplies:

Each organization will have different supplies, but generally, harm reduction orgs provide things like syringes, safer snorting + smoking kits, Narcan, condoms, lube, and wound care supplies. Each org has different policies for how to get supplies--some do deliveries, some have drop in centers, some only do one to one needle exchange, some are more flexible.

Next Distro: mail based syringe provider for certain states. Also mails free Narcan.

NASEN: national map of syringe providers

a lot of harm reduction collectives aren't going to have their information listed on big national websites--it's always worth searching "harm reduction in my area" and seeing what's around you. Even if you don't live in a big city, there might be a harm reduction organization in your state that can help you find someone closer to you. there's a lot of rad people doing underground work who want to be there to help you who aren't as easy to find online. If there's street medic collectives, mutual aid groups or groups like Food not Bombs in your area, you can ask people in them who might know where to find harm reduction services in your area!

Drug Users Unions:

Drug users unions are activist groups made for people who use drugs, by people who use drugs! Drug users unions do advocacy work to end criminalization, as well as providing vital community support. Many drug users unions are also inclusive of sex workers and work to decriminalize sex work as well. You can search for "drug users union" in your state.

Urban Survivors Union: National, has resources for creating drug users union

Chosen Few: Drug users union for Black drug users in DC

San Francisco Drug users union

Sex Work Advocacy Groups:

Organizations that do decrim advocacy and provide support for sex workers.

Sex Worker Outreach Project USA- National, has chapters in many states.

Black Sex Worker Collective

Sex Workers Project

How to Use Safely:

Guides, videos, toolkits for safer use!

Harm Reduction Coalition Resource Library

Getting Off Right: A Safety Manual for Injection Drug Users

Safer Crack Smoking

Safer Snorting

Safer Hormone Injection

Levels of Risk: Veins

Wound Care video w/ ASL

How to Use Fentanyl Test Strips

DanceSafe-testing kits, including reagent testing kits!

Erowid-shares experiences people have with different drugs, dosages, what things to expect

Bluelight- another forum for discussing experiences with drugs.

Drug Interactions Checker

Sex Work Resources:

Tricks of the Trade by L. Synn Stern: tips for street based sex work

A Quick and Dirty Sex Worker Safety Toolkit

Girls Do What they Have to Do To Survive by YWEP

Dis/Organizing: How We Build Collectives Beyond Institutions by Rachel Kuo & Lorelei Lee

Tryst Blog

Hotlines:

Never Use Alone: 877-696-1996. Overdose Prevention Hotline--Volunteers stay on the phone with you while you use and call emergency services if you overdose.

HIPS Hotline-​​​1 (800) 676-4477. Emotional support for drug users and sex workers. Does not work with cops.

feel free to add on more resources. love + lube <3

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 37: The Silence

Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,179 words

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language

A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs. 

They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside. 

Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs. 

All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders. 

You’re crying. 

It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears. 

He can’t. 

He lost those privileges when they left you just like that. They knew you were in danger, they knew that something was wrong, and yet they just up and left you. They should have known something was going to happen. They should have known even leaving Johnny and Simon behind wouldn’t mean safety. They were called away, and they followed those orders because that’s what they’re supposed to do. Be obedient soldiers and follow orders. 

John isn’t always the most obedient. He’s gone against the orders and wishes of his superiors many times, yet this time he didn’t. He didn’t even question those orders. 

Would things have changed if he had questioned it? Would John have listened if he had brought up just how suspicious the timing was? Could he have avoided all of this if he had just questioned his alpha? 

Not all of it would have been unavoidable. 

He has no doubt they would have still come after you regardless. They would have found some other way to isolate you. Even sending you to stay with Kate in a secure location wouldn’t have worked. Shepherd still would have known where you were, and it would have been just as easy to snatch you from right under their noses. 

Graves wouldn’t have given up that chance so easily, even if he knew what the outcome would be. 

Shepherd fucked him over too in the end. 

Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future. 

It’s going to take a lot of work. 

“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them. 

“About four minutes.” Simon answers. 

“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her. 

“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.” 

Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well. 

You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting. 

Pain and bliss. 

That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.

It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job. 

His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you. 

You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in. 

He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.

Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet. 

There’s no freedom.  

All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word. 

The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.

“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.” 

Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door. 

“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm. 

“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.” 

“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.

“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.” 

Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen. 

“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea. 

“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. 

Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed. 

“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks. 

“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says. 

“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.” 

Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon. 

Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.” 

“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry. 

“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.” 

Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack. 

It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have. 

Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was. 

He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time. 

They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here. 

They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days. 

Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him. 

Little shit. 

His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have questioned those orders, disobeyed for the sake of his pack. He should have been brave enough to help you through your heat. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He almost wishes he was. 

He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you. 

“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter. 

Bloody hell, he’s getting to be as bad as you.

“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup. 

“Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her. 

“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”

“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea. 

The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.” 

“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”

“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”

“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”

Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside. 

It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there. 

She’s not the only one that does it. 

The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. 

The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try. 

“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

You don’t even turn to look at her. 

“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag. 

There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there. 

You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer. 

Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you? 

Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would. 

You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality. 

If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever. 

Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on. 

When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you. 

Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question. 

Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair. 

You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders. 

Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long. 

The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it. 

He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can. 

He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention. 

Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail. 

“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.” 

You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position. 

They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen. 

John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.

“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon. 

Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much. 

You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon. 

Fuck. 

You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.

You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you. 

Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime. 

“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table. 

None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly. 

The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going. 

His alpha is screaming. 

Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away. 

It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you. 

“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.” 

She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room. 

All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed. 

“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate. 

Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table. 

He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad. 

He just didn't think they were this bad.

You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie. 

His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away. 

You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away. 

You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea. 

He wants to take you. 

He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it. 

John would have his hide if he left with you like that. 

Simon would eat him alive. 

He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close. 

Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half. 

It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get. 

He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral. 

Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long. 

He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise. 

He just wants to hear you speak again. 

He needs to hear you speak again. 

He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were. 

Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet. 

He might as well be sitting alone. 

It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence. 

Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down. 

John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things. 

You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward. 

Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen. 

Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again. 

He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment. 

What a good alpha Simon is. 

What a failure of an alpha John is. 

Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures. 

Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence. 

It is a scream. 

It’s your scream. 

NEXT ->

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[sapphicfandompirate]

Did any of the Strawhat's even go to school?

Chapter 1134 has sparked discussions on the state of the Strawhat's education, so I figured I would do a little analysis on my thoughts on it based on canon.

Luffy- Feral jungle child. Makino probably taught him to read and write, and attempted to teach him manners. Jury is out on whether or not Garp actually taught him anything. Doesn't seem to know much history. Does know beetles, and probably a lot of survival skills, including hunting.

Zoro- Ok this is the real reason why I made this post.

A dōjō (道場, Japanese pronunciation: [doꜜː(d)ʑoː]) is a hall or place for immersive learning, experiential learning, or meditation. This is traditionally in the field of martial arts. The term literally means "place of the Way" in Japanese. -Wikipedia

Isshin Dojo (一心道場, Isshin Dōjō?) is a kenjutsu school, a school of Japanese swordsmanship. Its owner is Koushirou, who is a skilled swordsman and father of the deceased Kuina. It is the place where Zoro trained his Three Sword Style and in the anime is the only dojo Zoro did not take down the sign of. -One Piece Wiki, Emphasis added by me

As a member of the Isshin Dojo Zoro has attended school! Koshiro taught him primarily swordsmanship and meditation, but someone taught him reading, writing, and math and I'm just going to guess it's Koshiro as well. Seems to know a bit of sword-related history, but not much world or local history.

Nami-Stole education books. Not formally educated. Everything was probably taught by Bellemere and the rest was learned on the fly. Probably knows the basics of mainstream world history. Is capable of formulating advanced equations, and has vast sailing, navigation, cartography and weather knowledge. Studied at Weatheria during the timeskip, but it doesn't seem like a formal institution.

Usopp - Orphaned street rat. Unknown who taught him to read, write, and do math. Possibly Banchina before she passed away. Somehow he knows chemistry and engineering? Might have borrowed books from Kaya? Mostly self-taught it seems.

Sanji- Definitely has a formal education, up until he ran away. Noble child who had a variety of tutors. Learned whatever noble children learn plus a variety of fighting techniques and fields of science. Then was taught cooking by Zeff. Boy definitely knows how to do math. Anyone who cooks for a large group of people can at least multiply on the fly, or has a calculator taped to the wall. One Piece appears to use the metric system, so at least he doesn't have to figure out how to quadruple a recipe that originally called for 1 2/3 cups of flour.

Chopper - Professionally taught by Dr. Kureha (and Dr. Hililuk). They are both referred to as Doctors, but it is unknown what sort of medical knowledge is actually needed for that title, or if there is like a degree or anything. Assumably one of them taught him reading, writing, math, and chemistry in addition to medical stuff. Also read all of the books in the Torino Kingdom during the timeskip. According to the wiki, Kureha established an academy during the timeskip.

After establishing a medical academy, she taught and trained at least eighty students who became skilled enough to join the Isshi-20, expanding their members to a hundred under her leadership.

Robin- Got a degree in archaeology at the age of 8. Has all of the reading, writing, and history skills, including dead languages. While she taught herself how to read the poneglyphs, I think it's safe to say that Professor Clover taught her regular history, math, science, reading, and writing. Robin went to school!

Franky - Apprenticeship under the shipwright Tom. His state of education was unknown before meeting Tom at age 10. Should know all of the basic skills (reading, writing, math) in addition to carpentry, and shipbuilding. Tom's Workers is referred to as a shipbuilding company, so I don't think it counts as a school? Knows at least enough medical knowledge to turn himself into a cyborg with scraps from a ghost ship after being runover by a train. And Survive. Somehow.

Brook- APPARENTLY??? Stated that school makes him nostalgic, which implies he attended. Also knows a variety of things usually nobility would, namely various musical instruments and fencing. He also knows sailing, and various other things to be a battle convoy leader and pirate captain. I have questions for this man.

Jinbe - Dojo again, this time the Fish-Man Karate Dojo. Later joined the Neptune Army. So, since a dojo counts as a type of specialized school, he's attended a school as well as had military training! Knows basic historical stuff, especially that pertaining to fishmen and human-fishman relations. Seems to know other basic life skills (reading, writing, math, ect)

So, in conclusion:

Went to school: Zoro, Robin, Brook, Jinbe

Private Tutors: Sanji

Vocational Training under a Professional: Sanji, Chopper. Franky, Nami,

Self Taught with some instruction by a parent or other adult (non-professional): Luffy, Nami, Usopp

Out of the ten members, 4 of them attended a school of some sort and several others had some sort of professional training or supervision of study.

Feel free to add on if I missed anything!

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 2nd

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1. Hey! I’m looking for a fic in which WWX and LWJ are married, but WWX is in Yiling, and there’s a female character named Yu something kind of, interfering?? In the relationship. WWX was protector of Yiling w/o anyone knowing Yiling had a protector, and super powerful, stopping all Wen Rouhan’s attacks on Yiling. LWJ and WWX get married as some kind of pact during the war to hold WWX responsible/ensure he’s on their side I guess?? At some point Yu Something tells WWX he has to go through some kind of purification ritual performed by LWJ, involving Cleansing, when he comes to Gusu, and WWX worries about that because he’s pretty sure that would kill him. Frustrated cause I literally have screenshots of the fic but no clue what the title is.

For #1, if they have screenshots of the fic they could try typing a sentence from it into a search engine surrounded by " " and the search should locate what webpage that sentence is from (ie what fic it is from)

FOUND? i think #1 is an identity porn fic from shana storyteller? maybe this one?

FOUND? It could be the deleted "A Price To Pay" by wangxianist. The girl's name is Yu Zhaohua.

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2. Hello! Thank you for all the work y'all do! I'm looking for a wangxian fic (I think it was a series of oneshots?). I don't remember much abt it but I think it mostly centered around kink and featured bdsm clubs (particularly the fact that lwj visited clubs targeted towards lifestylers). I just remember a scene where lwj demos smth involving impact with another guy with an english name, I think it was smth with a J (not wwx). Wwx sees it and strikes up a convo with him. I think it was set in London or one of them lived there are some point during the story.

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3. Hi ficfinder... Please help me looking for fic that I read before but forget the title. This fic is post sunshot campaign where wei wuxian decide to act as Jiang sect elder and have 2 bodyguard. He started wearing elder clothes and teach Jiang cultivator. During conference lan wanji lust towards wei wuxian... And decide to increase cultivation so that he can marry wei wuxian. Thanks for your time. 😘

FOUND! Elder, an Aesthetic by MarbleGlove (G, 8k, JC & WWX, Fix-It, Post-Sunshot Campaign, [Podfic] Elder, an Aesthetic by sisi_rambles, Cold Read of "Elder, An Aesthetic" by MarbleGlove by dangercupcake)

NOT FOUND Like a Water-Worn Stone by meyari (T, 41k, wangxian, major character death, Hurt/Comfort, very little hurt, lots of comfort, Chronic Illness, Serious Injuries, Self-Medication, Disability, PTSD, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aftermath of war, Aftermath of Violence, Prisoner of War, Identity Issues, Warning: Jīn Guāngshàn, enslavement (discussion of), abuse (discussion of), actually very fluffy despite the warnings)

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4. Hi! Fic finder, please! It was a Cloud Recesses lecture au, I think WIP, which starts with the class returning from an outing and they realize WWX is missing. LQR thinks he has just run away to be playful, but then they find a trail of blood and it turns out WWX was caught by some kind of ghost (I almost think the ghost was WWX’s future self? or some kind of twisted version of himself?). There is a slightly gory scene as the students find WWX in the woods, very injured, and they might be missing their swords so they have no way to help him? Thank you for any leads you can share!

FOUND? For the Dust and the Dirt by Nyxelestia (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel Fix-It, Cloud recesses study Arc, It gets worse before it gets better, WWX Whump, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

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5. Hi! I'm looking for a wangxian time travel fic. I only read the first few chapters and I think post-canon wangxian time travel to cloud rescess study arc. Wwx was trans in his original body and he says to lwj that he'll be able to get wwx pregnant now. That's all I remember. @aristocraticteacup

FOUND! 💖 It is a serious thing just to be alive by Itgoeson (E, 57k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Established Relationship, Trans Male Character, Happy Ending, transphobia does not exist because i simply Do Not Vibe with it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grinding, mentions of dysphoria, War, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign)

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6. Hi! I would like to request a fic finder. I'm not sure if it was deleted or I just can't find it. From what I can remember, it was after the siege where Wei Ying is already dead. Lan Zhan is suffering from the whip wound but he refused any treatment. I'm not really sure if it was LZ himself that found the incense burner or if someone put it in his room but the fic heavily revolves around the incense burner. Because of it, LZ started to have a dream about WY. In the dream, he is living happily with WY and Ayuan. Even though LZ knows it's just a dream, he starts to sleep more and rarely stays awake so he could spend more time with WY. His body starts to be disoriented and there's nothing that the healer can do to help him. LXC and LQR tried to stop LZ but failed. At the end, LZ finally succumbed to his injury and died but he died happy because his soul is with WY in the dreamscape. I apologise if my explanation is out of place. I hope you can help me find this fic. Thank you in advance ^-^ @mayuchi96

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7. This one was a story on reincarnation. Lan Wangji takes birth three times.

In the first life, Wei Wuxian is a prince born to a servant or low ranking concubine. Lan Wangji is the son of a general, his whole family gets killed due to conspiracy.

Wei Wuxian turns into a ghost.

Second life, Wangji is the second young Master of Lan Clan.

Third life, he is a martial God. His mother conceived him outside of marriage, so he had an estranged relationship with his father, the emperor( I think?)

There was the amazing symbolism of red spider lily and their tragedy and grave and death.

If anybody remembers this one or manages to find it, please send the link or atleast the name of the fic.

Thank you. @sanaparry

FOUND? A Path of Red Spider Lillies by glowingreverie (M, 208k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, HuaLian, WIP, TGCF Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Canon Divergence, Mild Sexual Content, if you haven't read tgcf beware of spoilers, series takes place after the events in tgcf, Gore, Death, Past Child Abuse, Supernatural Elements, Paranormal, Slow Burn)

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8. I'm also wondering if anyone knows or could find a fic I lost track of years ago. It was post cql canon with LWJ as chief cultivator. There was a scene where WWX is traveling and comes across LWJ doing some sort of ceremony at the autumn festival. WWX compared LWJ to Chang'e. There was also a kid on the balcony? He was watching from who WWX talked to about LWJ. Thanks for your help! @classygreydove

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9. Hello! Can I submit two fic finder requests please? Thank you for your help!

A) A canon era soulmate au where when you first meet your soulmate you are overcome with this urge to fight them. WangXian first meet on the wall when WWX tries to sneak in with the alcohol, but the drama came from LXC and JGY meeting in the midst of the start of class and so their soulmate match was very public and gossiped about. The Twin Jades had a scene where they discussed the different public reactions to their recent soulmate matches. 

B) Also a soulmate au, but this one was soulmates got stuck together where they first touched for 24 hours. It featured LWJ and WWX fighting and then they got glued together (I think at their wrists) and LWJ drags them together like that to face punishment for rule breaking. Cue LQR freaking out that LWJ’s soulmate was a troublemaker, while LWJ and WWX are kind of besotted with each other. 

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10. im lookign for a fic where lan yuan during a dinner confronts lan xichen and qiren about them participating in the killing of the wen remenants and he leaves with jingyi and wangxian @aqua-sapphire

FOUND? this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, POV LXC, Post-Canon, LSZ has some complicated emotions, we’re being a little unfair to the lans here, but sometimes life isn’t fair, Yunmeng brothers, it’s not prominent enough to go into the main tag but it sure is there, Author Is a JC Apologist)

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11. A. I forgot to bookmark this one but I remember that Wei wuxian lived but his soul was shattered like he was a lived but he wasn't acting like himself before and eventually he starts committing suicide and lan wangji was protecting him and caring for him until he successfully kill himself, lan wangji takes care of him for 13 years(it's and happy ending.

B. The only thing I remember is that it was a modern setting and wei wuxian and lan wangji were in an arranged marriage (or convenience) assigned by the lan elders. I think it was an Omega verse and in the end lan wangji almost died into a car crush and wei ying was pregnant. I remember he also has a crush on nie huisang but well they didn't date but in good terms (JC/NH endgame) they also adopted lan yuan at first. @lanwuxian0725

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12. hello! for the next fic finder, it's an AU where the incense burner really happened but in a different reality. I remember lwj asking who hurt you to wei ying and in his mind wy answers "you" but says that it was no one. I remember it was multi chapter

FOUND? 🔒 strange kind of dream by Anonymous (E, 17k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, Cloud Recesses, Everyone Lives, Canon Divergence, Incense Burner, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Sparring, Sexual Roleplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Consensual Non-Consent, Kink Negotiation, of a sort, lil bit of genderplay, (WWX likes calling himself wife), Compulsory Heterosexuality, coming out to yourself, romantically looking at spring books together, dubious coping mechanisms: the WWX special)

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13. Hi! im currently trying to fic about wangxian where it starts with Jian Fengmian finding wei wuxian and then Yu Ziyuan accepting him as a son. Next was then Lan Wangji was on a journey to find his soulmate as his duty as a prince or emperor i think (i dont remember if this is abo) and finds wei wuxian not even 3 hours later in his journey (as stated by the author in notes) next is lwj offering wwx to come with him in his travels so that wwx can find information about his parents. The next thing i remember is wwx finding out that lwj is an emperor and gets scared and runs away for about a month and then lwj was able to find him and then he also finds out hes lord yiling that was the owner of some gold mines. I also remember Yu Ziyuan was there to help declare wwx as lord yiling. I also remember wwx had this necklace that had his name engraved on it.

I really hope u can find it eueueueueu ive been trying to find this fic for such a long time noe

FOUND? Bound Only by the Sea by levament (E, 271k, WIP, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JFM/YZY, LXC/JGY, LXC/NMJ, Royalty, Politics, A/B/O, Mpreg, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Cinderella Elements, Cinderella Fusion, No Powers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse)

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14. Hi can you help me find a fanfic. Where wei ying parents made him a cultivation level system. He has a nine petaled lotus on his forehead, and is not in the Jiang sect. But maybe in the Lan sect and is a kid. Help please and maybe on Ao3 @rose-1685

FOUND? I think it is a fic on AO3 by splitgirl28

FOUND? Mama's Hermitage Style of Cultivation by SplitGirl28 (T, 5k, WIP, Different Childhood, Different Education, BAMF WWX)

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15. Hi! I read a mdzs fic on ao3 last year where wwx goes back in time. It's not a fix it more like just as tragic but in a diff manner it has a basis of jin sect will be rich but greedy nie sect will be strongest but die soon and so on. wwx is related to xue yang. It's private and completed with around 70 chapters.

Wwx gets half prossessed by the spirt in the tiger seal and they both have a mind war and that's an important detail that continues to be the plot the guy is enemies with Baoshan sanren and they have their showdown in the end.

In the ending there's a whole war ish situation with all wwx, lwg, lxc jc and all of jin lings uncles( and maybe the disciples) fight against jin guo and (xue yang?) in the end lan wangji dies temporarily while Baoshan sanren fights the tiger seal spirit man.

It's very angsty tragic and has plenty of tags I really hope you'll be able to find it! Thank you :)

reminds me of two different fics: FOUND? we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club) has Wei Ying time traveling and getting possessed by resentful energy/the tiger seal but the other elements don't really match.

FOUND? inevitable everything by isabilightwood (E, 193k, WangXian, WQ/MM, JYL/JZX, BSSR/LY, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, but WWX is BSSR’s disciple/adoptive grandson too, the cultivation sects think this is a, War Prize AU, it’s actually self-arranged marriage, Arranged Marriage, yin iron shenanigans, LWJ Has Friends, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, LWJ Has a YLLZ Kink, Switch WangXian, BDSM, Submissive LWJ, Dominant WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, magical illness of a side character (who will get better), Rope Bondage, Impact Play, Rimming, Bottom LWJ, Temperature Play, Face-Fucking, Breathplay, (talisman-based breathplay to be specific), Cock Warming, Public Scene, no one gets naked in public this is the sense of WWX invents the, Remote Controlled Vibrator, Semi-Public Sex, Outdoor Sex, Blindfolds, one qingmian smut scene with oral and fingering, Minor Character Death, All Sex Scenes Are Skippable!) has Baoshan Sanren fighting the spirit of Xue Chonghai who's possessed Xue Yang's body. I'm hoping one of these might be the fic they're looking for.

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16. Hello! For fic finder, I have a very threadbare request. It was some kind of canon divergent story where Wei Wuxian befriends Nie Mingjue and at one point wields Baxia. I think WWX was asked to come help the Nie with their resentful energy problems, and they figured out that Mingjue would only survive if he stopped cultivating entirely, and the two further realized that WWX was uniquely suited to wield Baxia because he had no golden core left to corrupt. This is all a very big if, my brain barely remembers these details and is likely mixing up multiple fics: the biggest thing standing out to me is the Nie disciples in awe that WWX could wield Baxia. Thank you for any leads you can give!

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo) which features Nie Mingjue giving Baxia to Wei Ying after Nie Mingjue's told he can no longer cultivate with it or he'll suffer a qi deviation but Wei Ying is able to safely use the sabre.

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17. Hello! Fic finder please. I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is captured or maybe he gives himself to the clans in exchange for the protection of the Wens. Lan Xichen or Lan Qiren sews his mouth shut (can’t remember if physically or magically) and so WWX can’t speak or eat, and WWX is placed in a dingy cell. Eventually WWX nearly dies from malnutrition and that is how the big clan leaders learn he has no golden core (he couldn’t survive off inedia). I remember all the clan leaders gathering around his cell door in a fluster like “what has happened to him? Surely the big bad Yiling Laozu couldn't starve to death?” Thank you!

FOUND!🔒❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

~*~

18. Hiya!!

I was hoping that you guys could help me find a fic that I read a few years back.

Lan Wangji is married of to the fearsome Yiling Laozu, who (if I remember correctly) lives at the Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji moves to the Burial Mounds and does not recognise Wei Wuxian due to him having had alterations to his face by Wen Qing (so he looks different). Wei Wuxian does eventually tell him about it and Lan Wangji is happy to be reunited with him.

I’m pretty sure that Lan Yuan was around too 🤔

Thanks a bunch (: @unlimitedsparks

FOUND? 🔒 pitiful destiny, point your finger at me by sassybluee (E, 66k, WangXian, Royalty, Yílíng Wèi Sect, Arranged Marriage, Pining while fucking, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Secret Identity, Under-negotiated Kink, Donghua YLLZ, CQL LWJ, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Identity Porn, Porn With Plot, Resentacles, YL WWX, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

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19. Hi! I was hoping you could help me find a fix! Wwx goes back in time to the water abyss in caiyi. Settles the abyss and nicknames in Abby. From Lwj's pov, he can hear him saying, "isn't it weird Abby? They all look so young". Wwx is pretty convinced he's dreaming. Thank you! @koilily

FOUND? Turn a little faster by apathyinreverie (T, 42k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel, far too many people know, WWX assumes he's mostly hallucinating, those around him are taking his timetravel far more seriously, Humor, Pining LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Yin Iron, POV LWJ, time travel outsider pov, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, LY is bamf and the only Lan with any sort of sense, Falling In Love, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, BAMF WWX, Crack Treated Seriously)

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20. Hello! I'm looking for a lost fic. I think wwx joined the cloud recesses lectures and pretended to be a jiang disciple for it. I think he was childhood friends with jc and jyl though and that his parents were alive in this one. lqr tries to rearrange a betrothal between wangxian and calls jfm over, but then jfm reveals that wwx isn't actually a disciple and wwx says that he never actually said he was either, they just assumed. I feel like there was something about wwx telling his parents that he was gonna be in lotus pier the whole time when he actually went to cloud recesses. Any ideas are much appreciated! Thank you! @cherishthespark

FOUND!🔒 A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) by Eudoxia (E, 33k, wangxian, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Huli Jing LWJ, Huli Jing WWX, Everyone Lives, Curses, Case Fic, Animal Transformation, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, No Sunshot Campaign, No Yīn Iron, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, LXC is a good brother!, He tries so hard!!, Mentions of Ace LXC, Mentions of Ace WN, Knotting, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Size Kink, 69 (Sex Position), Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Male Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Squirting, wangxian Have a Non-Con/Rape Kink, but no actual CNC/rape play occurs in this fic. It’s only discussed. there is also discussions of monster fucking but no actual monster fucking)

~*~

[solarstranger]

CHAPTER 1 | I HOPE YOU SEE (RIGHT THROUGH ME)

w.c. 1.2k

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (23), some cussing (it's not bakugou's internal monologue if there aren't any), suicide-related deaths (see series synopsis for more details), discussions of suicide, canon-typical descriptions of violence

a/n. welcome to another series by yours truly!!!! i know i still have that body swap one in the queue, and while i am planning on working on that, this series' premise just spoke to me and i was emboldened to write it as soon as i could. i'm writing this as i go, though, so the posting schedule is likely gonna be erratic, but i promise i'll try to write this consistently. anyway, i'd absolutely love to hear what you think throughout the process, so please don't be a stranger and talk to me!

links. masterlist, ao3

Somehow, he’s wound up in the emergency room of Musutafu’s highly renowned Central Hospital.

Which, if he had the energy left to really think about it, is not particularly an unusual occurrence. He’s been here—and other similar hospitals—enough to have a general blueprint of the corridors etched in his mind, as well as the basic rules they shared and protocols that were strictly followed. Stuff like how phone calls are prohibited, fatigued doctors specializing in emergency medicine are perpetually present, and how—for a place supposedly and rightfully dubbed with the ‘emergency’ title—the staff sure don’t seem to have a whole lot of sense of urgency.

Although he supposes he’d rather have that than be in a room teeming with frantic energy. Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, actually, for the sake of the patients who get rolled in.

Except right now, he was not a patient.

He was technically not a guardian, either, though the disheveled-looking middle-aged man blatantly staring at him from a few rows up front is most definitely thinking otherwise.

Well, then.

Acutely aware of the unwanted attention, Bakugou shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wincing ever so slightly when the connected metal chairs to his right creak loudly with the motion. It doesn’t help that he’s still in his hero clothes—although he’s aware there’s no point in mulling over it now; after all, he didn’t exactly have the time to do a costume change with all the shit that went down.

Not that he’s exactly sure what that ‘shit’ even was.

It all happened too fast.

One minute, he was walking down his regular patrol route down Shizuoka’s famous tallest bridge—cursing the unbearable summer heat and the dehydration-induced headaches that it brought with it; the next, he was jumping off of it.

He even boosted himself with his quirk to aid gravity in his free fall, but to no avail.

Your body had already collided with the ground by the time he could grab your wrist.

The moments that passed after that are even more of a blur now. He doesn’t know how he did it, but after what seemed like an eternity of merely staring at your limp, bloody body, Bakugou was able to pull out his phone and call 119. The medics arrived shortly after, maybe in a span of five minutes, but to him it felt like more.

It took everything within him not to just haul your body and propel you to the nearest hospital.

Because if someone died under his watch…

“Mr. Dynamight?”

Bakugou startles, looking up from where he was blankly staring at his intertwined, scarred hands. At the sight of a white coat-clad woman, the pro-hero immediately stands up, nodding, turning to face the brunette with his full attention.

“Hi,” the doctor greets, “It’s come to my understanding that you’re the one who called in regarding Patient—” she trails off, looking down at her clipboard to double-check, before saying your name in a question. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Bakugou rasps roughly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Uh, yes, doc.”

The doctor nods. “Were you on patrol when you found her?”

Close, the voice in Bakugou’s head retorts without missing a beat. I saw her fucking jump.

Instead of saying all that out loud, however, the ash-blonde only nods wordlessly.

The woman hums. “Okay, then. Well, her parents are still on the way here, and normally we’d let them know first, but given the nature of your involvement and your occupation, I might as well inform you.”

Instantly, Bakugou finds himself bracing for what’s next.

The doctor presses her lips in a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, shaking her head solemnly. “She didn’t make it.”

Dead on arrival.

You were dead on arrival.

At least, that’s what the doctors told him when he pressed them for more. He couldn’t tell if they were hesitant about divulging further information about you aside from the basics or just simply in the dark themselves, seeing as how they only had your wallet that they found on your person to go from. Either way, Bakugou decided it didn’t matter as soon as an older couple burst through the doors of the emergency room—a good half hour later—whom he immediately identified as your parents.

Needless to say, he hightailed it out of there.

The last thing he needed was to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news, or worse, be recognized as the reason why their daughter is currently lying lifeless in one of the hospital’s private rooms.

After that, he couldn’t remember much of his actions, only that he somehow decided to head to the agency. The entire flight down to his office, he stuck his good ear out for any signs of ringing from his phone, which surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—didn’t come.

Which makes sense.

He’s heard stories before. Exchanged in hushed whispers back in the UA dormitory, and uttered in low voices in the agencies he worked at as a sidekick. About how suicide cases in the country are criminally underreported—not just because of the stigma surrounding the act, but because the police allegedly make it a point to conceal such cases, away from the media’s prying eyes and before it gets blown out of proportion by the public.

Hakamada told him it was most likely to prevent the occurrence of suicide clusters, to which Bakugou scoffed instinctively, granting him a reprimanding look from his mentor.

But really, could anyone blame him?

The idea seemed stupid then.

If he killed himself for whatever reason, he sure didn’t want his death to be treated as some sort of curse, talked about only when people think no one’s watching.

There’s nothing more pitiful than fading away without leaving a single trace, after all.

But now, as he sits in the quiet dark of his agency’s office—the building silent if not for the gentle whirring of his air conditioner—Bakugou finds himself oddly grateful.

Because…

Because.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to face the press about what just happened.

He’s not sure how long he sat spaced out in his office, but by the time he’s inserting his lone copy of his key into the door knob, it’s already two hours past midnight, and the exhaustion from the day’s events has finally made itself known in the form of muscle aches and a throbbing migraine.

Bakugou doesn’t try to fight the sigh of relief that wracks his body the second he hears the lock click, his movements automatic as he pushes the door open with his side, left hand reaching out in the dark until it lands on and presses against the switch.

As if on cue, light floods the living room slash kitchen of Bakugou’s apartment unit, a sight so mundanely familiar that he doesn’t even blink at first.

Just—drags his aching feet towards the foyer where he toes off his sneakers and drops his duffel bag, which he swears he’ll collect the first thing tomorrow morning.

But then that’s when it happens.

Bakugou barely catches it—the movement at the corner of his eye—but he does.

And when he does—glance to look at it—he blanches.

Because sitting on his sofa is no other than a ghost.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ

[hpowellsmith]

THE EARTH HAS TEETH June Update: Chapters 1-2 expansions

The June update for the demo adds major expansions to both chapters, along with tweaks to stats and lots of polish. Play on cogdemos or itchio now!

You'll need to restart the game to replay, but you can skip to Chapter 2 if you'd like (although Chapter 1 has expanded too, so I'd recommend playing both if you're in the mood!)

COGDEMOS | ITCHIO | DEVLOG & DISCUSSION THREAD | FEEDBACK FORM | INTRO POST | ROs

Among other changes and additions, in the game you can now (cut for spoilers):

play through your first meeting with Issi and Nikita onscreen

flirt with Nikita more overtly again

kill someone

Full changelog:

Expanded sections

Major expansion to Chapter 1 tunnel sequence and added a new item to pick up

Major expansion and rework to the start of Chapter 2 and large reduction of timeskip

Expanded initial library scene to clarify the sense of numbers of people living in Tulara

General polish, tweaks, and fixes

Instead of Vastan’s tooth boosting Discover, you can now take her ear for the same effect

Moved medical transition character customisation to follow directly from the gender/pronouns section for flow reasons; gave hormone-stimulating herbs names; added option for once-blessed characters to have had surgery or be on hormones

Restored Chapter 2 opportunity to ogle Nikita; it felt more appropriate now that they’ve had more screentime earlier in the chapter!

Lots of polish throughout, including more clarifying detail when deciding what to do with what’s found in the woods in Chapter 2, the Ven Lake festival name being a little more different, additional options for playing as nonbinary, wording changes, etc

Corrected bug in which choosing not to specify body details still led to questions about hormones/surgery in some cases

Stats/supplies/equipment

Added stat guide to the stats page and expanded glossary to include uses of herbs

Idealistic stat is now named Compassionate, and the wording of a number of choices that increase that stat, and tests involving it, has been tweaked. There was some muddying of the waters about what Idealistic meant due to the stat going through a couple of different iterations; this should be clearer and more consistent now

Obedient stat is now named Dutiful

Stat changes when you take a part of Vastan’s body are now always visible, as they’re not as intuitive as doing something like training a skill and are very large boosts

The first stat change is now always visible as it’s the first one players will encounter and includes large changes

Supplies are now tracked in half-day portions to make rationing choices more flexible

[smoothlikealikeasnake]

Strong Coffee and Sweet Cakes

Chapter Six ‘What Feels Right’

Genre - BTS FF, a/b/o dynamics, a/b/o BTS and MC, Ot7 x fem MC/reader, so fluffy, little angst, eventual smut

Warnings - Discussion of medical issues, physical health problems, exhaustion leading to physical pain, skin rashes, muscle pains, extreme pain, overworking, fatigue, a lot of angst, scruffing, a/b/o dynamic usage and mentions, less conscious minds? a lot of fluff too, please lmk if there’s anything to add xx

Summary - A new cafe near the Hybe building will change the 7 members of Bangtan’s lives forever, 7 alphas in a pack? A recipe for disaster. Until a sweet omega starts to stir up their world with a little bit more sugar and slowly their loneliness dissolves

Author Notes - It’s finally here! 17.5k words and a whole lot of it is angst but it’s PLOT RELEVANT, it was needed im sorry.

This was meant to be 49% angst and 51% fluff but it kind of ended up with majority angst, a good amount of fluff and a lot of hidden fluff so you have to pick out the small moments too 💖💜

I do really love the development in this chapter, I worried it didn’t quite fit very well and that some things moved too fast but I think it’s somewhat okay now after editing.

Why am I noting down ideas for 15 chapters in the future like whole multiple chapters plots already 😭

Your back’s been absolutely killing you today, sharp rushes of pain shooting through it every time you bend even a little, and to add to it all, it’s slowly travelling down your legs as well. Assuming it’s just a pulled muscle or that you slept on it funny, you power through and ignore it, also ignoring the way your skin begins to itch and feel hot and sensitive against your jeans and t-shirt.

Closing doesn’t go as usual; you have a whole lot of prep to do, so you end up staying a few hours later than usual, your process significantly slowed by the way your back and the rest of your body kept locking up and stopping you mid-task.

Finally, time to go home. You head straight to the convenience store because you sure as hell won’t be going back out after you get home, body spent. You barely manage to pull a smile onto your face, greeting Mrs.Han as another wave of pain shoots through your back, nearly stumbling straight into a display before you catch your footing. She assumes you tripped and scolds you for being clumsy, but you can hardly hear it, your mind distant.

Jungkook would tell himself he hasn’t purposefully been avoiding you; that’s a lie though. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, just avoiding the cafe, but on this particular night, he felt pulled to go to the store, convinced he was craving ramen, so on he went, walking in and bowing to Mrs.Han before aiming to go down the ramen aisle.

Your scent fills his nose instantly, and he tenses, thinking back to how he reacted to Jimin and frowning; internally, his alpha is just begging him to suck it up and accept it, and it’s not like he can walk straight back out, so he doesn’t; he’s going to push down what happened and be in control. A twitch of his nose makes him frown. your scent isnt as sweet as usual. Sure, its usually a little mild or ever so slightly tart from your exhaustion but this… The pastry of your scent smells burnt; your strawberry’s so tart its almost sharp, and then he spots you, sees the tremor of your hand as you reach out to grab your ramen, the slight bending of your back forward because you can’t stand straight right now.

Jungkook is frozen; he doesn’t know what’s making your scent so negative. He puts it down to just heavy exhaustion at first. His spring rain and fresh laundry scent dances through your nose; you follow it and see him standing at the beginning of the aisle. The pain seems to let up for a minute, so you try to straighten out and give him a smile; he returns it after a moment, walking over and also choosing his ramen.

The rest of your usual pick-and-go is as usual: standing outside and waiting for him. Jungkook comes out as energetic as ever, forgetting the whole Jimin incident momentarily, smiling and gesturing for you both to walk towards your apartment.

“How have you been, Y/n?” - Is the first thing Jungkook asks; he hasn’t seen you in a while, obviously, so it only feels right; you’re merely a few steps into the walk.

“I��ve been g- agh-” - The words get knocked right out of your chest, a pain so strong shooting from your neck down to your legs making you stumble, gasping for breath and trying to throw your hand back to grasp your back, but it only makes it worse. Jungkook is stunned, hands moving before his mind to stabilise you and looking over you, you are entirely shaking and your mind is hazy, somewhere else, hot to the touch and slowly losing the strength in your legs, about to fall to the ground.

Your whimper puts him in motion instantly; his arm wraps around your front, not allowing you to fall but also not forcing you upright since he saw how you were standing in the shop; his alpha is practically begging him to get you somewhere safe, into a nest, but his brain overpowers him just for a moment. It's a 10, maybe 15-minute walk to your apartment, and that's if you can even make it there, and it's a 3-minute drive to Pack's home, and his car is right behind you guys. The option he chose is clear.

You’re like a puppet, limbs numb apart from the searing pain that’s bringing tears to your eyes now, face scrunched as you try and wait for it to pass, but it’s not passing fast enough; you can hardly breathe, but you know it’s not the kind of pain to go to the hospital for; there’s no actual strain on your lungs or heart; it’s entirely physical and just feels like extremely intense muscle pain and surface pain.

Jungkook isn’t making you take a single step; he can’t listen to your heartbreaking whimpers for a second longer, and although he knows you’re in pain, he apologises under his breath and sets his arm under your thighs, one under your back, apologising over and over as he lifts you bridal style into his arms, knowing he’s putting pressure on the pain but this is the most efficient way to get you into his car.

You’re hunched over yourself when he sets you down, hands moving quickly to do your seatbelt, and you can’t hear his quiet reassurance, telling you it’s going to be okay, to just hold on.

Jin will know what to do; one of his hyungs will know what to do… right? His alpha is telling him not to take you to the hospital, that it isn’t what you need, and for once, he listens. There's a lone tear slowly following down your cheekbone, and your entire body is trembling trying to fight through the pain. Jungkook is off before you know it, quietly keeping reassuring you, but you can’t think about it; you can’t think about where you are going or how long it takes; every minute feels like 100 anyway.

Jungkook pulls into the carpark and rushes to your door, gently undoing your seatbelt, and he’s just a tiny bit relieved to see you trying to steady your breathing, praying that means it’s slowly passing. You barely respond besides leaning into his arms as he whisks you into his hold again, closing the door behind him with his body and jumping straight in the elevator, punching in the house code, and he’s actually glad for the fast lift-—it often makes him nauseous, but today, it’s worth it.

He’s only seeing a singular path, no attention to anyone around him nor the shouts of confusion from the members as he practically sprints to his room, careful not to jostle you and only moving faster when you whimper again, tensing against him, hand gripping his t-shirt so hard your knuckles have lost the blood in them.

“‘Ts okay ‘mega, it’s okay…” - Is all he keeps repeating as he sets you down on his bed like you are glass, letting his alpha take over to rush to his closet, that extreme order of pillows and blankets and all things soft being vital right now, pulling out blanket after blanket and pillows and piling them around your curled body. You look tiny and frail on his bed, and he lets out a whimper of his own, his own hands shaking as he deposits as many pillows and blankets as he can around you, a makeshift nest if anything.

You’re twitching through it now, the warmth welcomed and helping, gripping onto a pillow he puts in front of you; even if your body is feverish, the heat provided by the nest he tried to make around you seems to help. It washes away a layer of the pain until you’re at least able to move your limbs and find yourself gripping the back of your own t-shirt. Taking deep inhales of the scent flushing around you, soothing something deep inside you.

Jungkook’s a mess, his hair messed up where he’s pulled at it and his breathing heavy, standing there not knowing what to do next now that he’s built you a nest and got you to the safest place he could think of in his mind, his alphas pushing at him to come over and wrap you into his arms, to hold you through the pain and to scent you into that fuzzy headspace, convincing him it will take away the pain, but he refuses to do that; instead, he finds himself calling out.

“Hyung- hyung please” - He doesn’t know what hyung he is calling out for but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second; he walks towards you and when he’s standing at the edge of the bed, you reach your hand out, eyes closed and grip onto the corner of his shirt, refusing to let go, face scrunched in pain, not that Jungkook would have made you let go anyway. He doesn’t have to call out twice; in an instant, there are rushing footsteps and multiple people bounding through his door, summoned by the strong distress flooding the hall and Jungkook’s borderline cries.

The first to come in are Seokjin and Namjoon, who saw him rushing in with you in his arms, beelining for his bedroom. They can’t even see you until they walk closer; they can only see your arm poking out because Jungkook had piled the border of his bed so much with all the nesting materials. It’s a little scruffy, of course it is- he’s never had to make a nest before, but that hardly matters.

The room smells burnt and makes their noses scrunch as they get closer; your scent burnt and Jungkook is stormy; he’s stressed; they can see it before they see you. Once they get in close enough to see you, Jungkook spins the top of his body, growling at them and then dropping it with a hurt expression, muttering out apologies; they don’t mind; they understand; he hadn’t meant to; he’s simply being protective.

Seokjin looks over you, curled up on Jungkook's bed, and tries to work out what’s wrong. You have a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, and the more your t-shirt sticks to your back, the more you whimper and try to pull it back.

Namjoon is distraught, running his hands through his hair; the first thing that goes through his mind is the possibility of you being in heat, and he curses under his breath.

Seokjin goes to the other side of Jungkook, stands next to him, and crouches down until you open your eyes and make eye contact with him, filled with tears and so clearly in pain it hurts his heart.

“Where does it hurt, sweetheart?” - He speaks as calmly as he can; your answer will pretty much tell him whether you’re going into heat or not. He’s probably the most levelheaded of the pack and has the most experience with omegas too.

You can hardly speak, letting out a half whimper as you try to respond and just keep pulling at the t-shirt on your back; it’s where it all started anyway, and you really hope he understands; he does.

“I’m just going to have a look, okay?” - He says, and you nod, burying your face into a blanket and gripping Jungkook’s shirt even tighter, tugging him until his legs are flush with the bedframe. Jungkook wants to pet your head to soothe you, but he can’t- doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

Seokjin rounds the bed until he’s on the other side, and he curses when he can already see a slither of your skin at the top of your jeans where the t-shirt is pulled away. He has to gently pry away your hand from it, and instantly your hand is flying forward to find something else to hold onto.

Seokjin has to carefully push your shoulder so that you’re more lying on your front than on your side, and when he pulls up your shirt to just below your bra clasp, Jungkook whines low and distraught. Seokjin immediately curses at the once small patches of rash that have spread down your spine and your waist; he imagines it goes down your hips too, but his hands reach up and pull at the collar of your shirt instead, finding them all the way up to your neck.

Your body is finally fully fighting back; it’s been giving you warnings for a while about how far you’re overworking yourself, but now, your omega is physically stopping you from pushing anymore. They can see your muscles spasming and tensing as a new wave of pain rushes through you; this time it’s less intense, and you don’t do more than squeeze Jungkook’s shirt and his hand, which- you don’t know when you found but somewhere along the way.

Seokjin rubs the back of his hand so softly across the small of your back, feeling how your skin is burning; he absolutely would have thought you were in heat had he not seen this and known enough about omegas.

He pulls away, hands running through his hair and cursing once again. Jungkook looks at him for guidance, confusion and concern written all over his face. Namjoon had stood by the door and stopped the others from coming in, just for a minute, until they knew what was wrong.

“Namjoon, can you go get her a shirt, something soft and oversized- and I mean, soft- infact take Jimin with you” - Is the first thing Jin calls out, the two in question running instantly, not caring whose shirt it is, just finding something that suits the criteria; they settle for one of Yoongi’s since his room is closest; the fabric is Jimin approved, and by the time they come back, Jin has already sent Hoseok off to get something for him too.

“Theres a white and pink tub of cream in my bathroom cabinet; you’ll know its the one when you see it. bring me that.” - Jin told him and Hoseok went and found it.

“Im sorry…” - You try to get out, breathy and low, and Jungkook and Jin’s heads snap to you. Not that Jungkook took his eyes away for a second, Jungkook whines at your apology- it’s far from necessary, and Jin brushes it off, telling you you shouldn’t be sorry- even though he will be having a chat with you about the cause of this sometime later.

When Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok are back and in the room, their eyes widen at the sight of you, the back of your shirt still pulled up a little bit and the younger two freeze, Hoseok grabbing the shirt from them and walking straight over to hand the items to Seokjin hastily.

Seokjin puts a hand on your face, turning you to face him and grabbing your attention, feeling the heat under them too and frowning at the tears hitting his fingers.

“Do you think you can change into this shirt, sweetheart? This is too tight” - He gestures to the one you're wearing, and you nod a little, trying to move up but shaking too much. Jungkook is instantly helping you to sit up, waiting until you're steady, and you still haven't let go of his shirt. Seokjin ushers everyone out, including himself but when he tries to get Jungkook out, you grip onto his shirt a little tighter and look down, speaking through your haze, clearly led by your omega

“Stay, please just… turn” - And Jungkook obliges in an instant, nodding whilst Seokjin huffs and gives him a pointed look. You let go only for a second, and when the door closes, you start to try and pull off your shirt, gasping and whining muffled, but it has Jungkook clutching his own shirt to not turn around and just help.

The fabric of the shirt is so soft, it’s oversized and doesn’t cling to you anywhere, long enough that it would reach your thighs, but you keep your jeans on obviously. It feels a little better already, but maybe that’s because it’s drenched in Yoongi’s scent, the warmth of the whisky and leather so appealing, and despite all your pain, your omega is purring.

“Done…” - Is all you say before Jungkook is spinning around again and looking over you as if you would have gotten more injuries, then he calls for Seokjin again, and he’s rushing in, picking up the cream and looking at where you sit curled in on yourself, scent still burnt, but there’s a tinge of sweetness added to it, a little bit of comfort.

“This cream will help soothe your rash a little; is it okay if I put some on your back?” - Jin stays a good distance until you nod and he lifts your shirt, Jungkook holding it at your shoulders for you, trying not to whimper himself at the full extent of the rashes, and although he knows it can’t be the sole part of your pain, the way you were twitching and tensing so randomly hints it’s deeper than just your skin; this will at least help a little, he hopes.

The first touch of the cold cream on your back from Jin’s fingers makes you twitch and then sigh; pushing back into his hand, it works instantly to cool down the area but at another rush of pain in your muscles You tense again, curling impossibly closer to yourself until your head is touching the bed, legs still crossed in your lap but completely curled over.

Seokjin frowns at the other pain you're experiencing, also seeing how the rash follows deeper than the band of your jeans and that it’s under the back of your bra too.

“Y/n, can I unclasp this?” - He asks, gently touching the clasp, and you nod, trying to pass through another wave of pain. As soon as he’s popped open the back of your bra, you let out a little puff of relief, no longer any pressure around your back at all, and Jin continues to rub the cream the whole way up to the nape of your neck, where he hesitates, a thought coming to mind.

Scruffing could help numb the rest of the pain; he couldn’t possibly do it without your permission, but if you did want that, it’s a solution, even if only temporary.

“Does that feel a little better?” - You can only nod into the bed. Jungkook replaces the shirt down your back, and you roll onto your side so you can curl up even more. You reach out again, and Jungkook is quick to get closer, hovering over the border of the nest so you can reach his shirt and hold it again, somewhat becoming a staple of comfort in the short time you have been in this state. Jungkook is gnawing at his lip, so worried it’s killing him.

“Still hurt?” - Jin asks with a frown when you tense again, and you breathlessly try to respond, stuttering over your words.

“U-under my skin” - He knows what you’re trying to say; when he’s about to suggest something, Jungkook reaches out and puts a hand flat on your back, and to their surprise, you go boneless, sighing out in relief. The touch has your omega chanting ‘alpha, alpha, alpha’ in your mind, and you don’t even understand it yourself, but the scents and touch and nesting seem to ease the pain a little.

“You need to rest Y/n, your bodys protesting from the inside out.” - Jin frowns and you sigh out, nodding, never thinking it would get to this point and then you realise where you are… Opening your eyes and looking around, Jungkook’s hand is gently rubbing your back, and it’s blissful and painless.

“I should get home- i’m sorry for this…” - You get out, frowning when your omega protests your words and practically screams at you; a surge of pain, lighter than the others, flows again. You try to hide it, try not to tense, but they can see it.

“I don’t think thats a good idea sweetheart…” - Jin regretfully tells you but he won’t go against your wishes; he won’t hold you here, but god, he wants to. It’s late at night; this sort of pain has been long in the making, and he’s certain you shouldn’t be alone.

“I have to get back; i have work in the morning…” - Jungkook snarls and Jin scoffs; you tense below them, and they soften their approach, but you can’t go to work tomorrow; it’s out of the question, not like this.

“What you need is to take a break; work can wait” - You want to protest, but your omega immediately purrs at his words, agreeing with the suggestion, and you think back to not only your friends telling you to listen but also to Dr.Kim’s worry and disapproval. One day should be okay…

“I don't think it will help for you to be alone right now, just try to rest here, atleast for now? We can stay with you, or we will be right outside if you need anything” - Jin tells you. You purse your lips, not wanting to hold them here, but… are you on Jungkook’s bed? You look around and finally notice his efforts to build a nest around you, your purrs becoming audible, and then you slap a hand over your mouth in horror of yourself, only to be hit with another surge of pain at your refusal.

Jungkook looks at Jin for help, pleading silently to do something, his alpha knowing that something can be done even if he refuses to do it himself. Jin sighs, holding his breath before finally suggesting what his alpha has been nagging him to.

“Have you ever been scruffed?” - He asks, and you furrow your brows; of course you know what it is, but you aren’t aware of why he’s asking. Jungkook goes wide-eyed, knowing where Jin is going with this and looking at him in shock.

“Not since i was a child,” - You tell him, still confused on why thats relevant; you watch him hold his breath

“If its your omega causing the pain, which… i think it is… i could scruff you to settle it all” - He's referencing both the pain and your omega, and you think over it; you haven't been scruffed since you were a very young pup. No idea what it would do to your mind now, but you know he's right; it’s your omega causing the pain; that’s why you won’t see a doctor about it.

“With your teeth?” - You ask hesitantly. Seokjin goes bright red and laughs a little whilst Jungkook looks away, a small smile on his face.

“No-no- with my hands” - You breathe out in a little relief and think over it, considering declining, but your omega clearly doesn’t like that because once again, you tense up with another small surge of pain in warning, your omega telling you to let him scruff you, and so you take a deep breath and nod. It's hard to think about just why your omega is happy letting them see you so vulnerable when you're in constant pain. He looks a little surprised, having thought you’d decline after your silence.

“Is that okay?” - You ask Seokjin, not wanting him to do so if he is at all against it because it really is an intimate thing; only packs, families and mates scruff eachother…

“Yeah, if you want me to” - He gives you an encouraging smile, and you nod once again, telling him you want him too, and he lets out a huff, even more so when Jungkook reaches over, his hand leaving your back and brushing your hair off the back of your neck, fingertips grazing your neck and making you shiver. Anticipation has you gnawing at your lip, walking straight into the unknown, praying, trusting that this will help.

Seokjin puts one knee on the bed, just outside the ‘border’ of the nest, and asks you one more time if this is okay; you nod and bare your neck even more. He has to look away for a moment as his alpha tries to make him growl in approval. His fingers hover over your nape, then come down, pinching the sensitive skin there; you tense and gasp, and then he pulls, and you are boneless and limp for a moment, and he pulls off as soon as he’s sure.

Jungkook watches it happen with complete interest; his alpha is finally sated as you slowly blink, and a small smile settles over your face. You were only boneless for a moment before you sit up, a little shaky and a little wobbly, and two sets of hands shoot out to stabilise you, but you only giggle a little, eyes glossed over, grabbing one of each of their hands and tugging. You're a little giggly, dopey if there was a way to describe it, a little less present just somewhere in your mind that feels intoxicating, incredible.

Theres not a single ounce of pain in your body, a first in a long time but you also feel like a passenger in your own mind- its not bad its, really, really nice… When you’re scruffed, your omega comes to the front of your mind, guiding your every action, and your conscious brain gets to sit back and have everything that feels good and right come to you. It’s unfamiliar and you’ll surely regret atleast a bit of your shamefree, forward behaviour later but this is so much better than being in pain.

You're hazy and a bit incoherent, but you're persistent, tugging the two alphas towards you with a bit more force, and Seokjin has to stabilise himself with a knee on the bed, looking at you in shock and a bit of amusement, his alpha grumbling happily at you trying to get them closer.

“C’mere,” - You say, slurred because when your omega surfaces, theres very little chance of full, coherent sentences. Your omega is convinced these two alphas are supposed to be closer, supposed to also be within the comfortable edges of the bed, not in any sort of suggestive way- in a way you deem they should also be comfortable, that you trust them, to be close and feel they should relax, their scents still negative. You tug them just once more after you say it, and they oblige quickly, sitting at the edges of the ‘nest’ ah yes- the nest…

Not a second later your throwing yourself back and they flinch, going to stabilise you but you don’t need it; you’re fluffing the pillows and blankets around the headboard and then continuing all the way around, kind of just pushing them this way and that way to get where you need to be. You’re a bit clumsy, but there’s no denying that you’re precise, and when it’s all finished, you purr, loud and unfiltered.

The two alphas kind of just watch you, don’t care for how you are pushing them around, and are more just enthralled with your behaviour, smiles on their faces because you’re no longer in pain, and this… side of you settles something deep within them; if you were to ask them to jump right now, they’d just ask how high.

When you’re finished, you just lay back, relax and this time, you don’t curl up; in fact, you half lay on your side, but for the most part, you lay belly up and Jungkook can’t draw his eyes away, his hand twitching to protectively lay his hand there until Jin swats him, scolding him for his thought just by reading his eyes. You finally smell happy, sweeter than usual, a lot sweeter than usual, and they are both taking heaps of breaths in of your scent, and as you watch them do so, your hands clumsily find your neck; they lean in curious, and then you pull off the scent blocker patches and the ones on your wrist too, omega clearly not satisfied with the restriction. Jungkook goes stiff, and then he goes boneless, dropping down to lie at the bottom of the nest, lazily blinking and inhaling so deeply, holding onto his own clothes so that he doesn’t seek out the source of the scent yet again; it’s so hard though, but he keeps that little bit of lucidity, grips onto it. He feels drowsy, happy and drowsy, inhaling deeper and deeper and sinking further into that bliss.

Jin jolts, pupils dilating to the max just like Jungkook and you, and while he doesn’t go down like Jungkook, he does take a deep inhale and go stiff, chest erupting in grumbles. You look at them both, Jin sitting up, Jungkook lying down and giggling, happy with the effects of your scent, their own tensions leaving their shoulders, and then you feel sleepy, so so sleepy, stretching your body out, your feet nudging Jungkook's as he looks at you lazily and happily, a dopey, puppylike smile on his face and boba eyes. You’re happy and fluttering your scent around them to lull them into that same state; it draws Jungkook somewhere more instinctual, hence his actions.

Jin tries to catch his breath and then looks over at you two and spots an issue that needs to be resolved before you go to sleep. You and Jungkook are both wearing jeans, and as he gets up to confront that issue, you spark back awake, a frown settling on your face, and you whine so quietly he nearly drops down to lay in the nest as well, choking on his own breath, and Jungkook perks wide and alert as well.

“You both need to change before you sleep- jeans” - Seokjin points at both of your legs and you comply, easily sitting up and Jin gets up and out of the nest, much to your disapproval, rushing to Jungkook’s closet and picking out two soft pairs of pyjama bottoms. He guides you on wobbly legs into Jungkook’s bathroom to change and urges Jungkook to change quickly before you come back. He does, hardly getting up, throwing his jeans on the floor and throwing on the pyjama bottoms, sort of just rolling about after, flopped in the nest and breathing in your scent deep whilst Seokjin shakes his head at his clouded alphaspace behaviour.

In the bathroom you stumble about, clumsily shifting off your jeans and breathing in relief when they are off, then you feel something brush against your breast and realise- oh-—your bra is unclasped. To your defence, you do try to reclasp, but after a few huffing attempts, you clumsily unthread it from the shirt completely foregoing it; the shirts thick anyway and you'll bundle under blankets too.

You do bring the trousers up to your nose in your own company- not that your omega would have minded having company whilst you shamelessly inhaled Jungkook's scent; his room is so full of him it's overwhelming in the best possible way. Holding them out, the legs are far too long for you and against your better - conscious - judgement, you - your omega - decides to just forego these well. You’ll be under a blanket anyway and the shirt is more like a dress ending near your knees, you worry you would simply trip in the trousers.

Thats how you stumble out, your jeans: bra hidden within them because at least your omega respected your sanity enough to do that, and the pajama pants in your hands, placing them gently by the bed and then darting into the nest before Seokjin can process anything-

Jungkook isn’t much help either as he happily grumbles and rubs his wrists and head all over the blankets around him, drowning in your scent mixed with his while you get comfortable and then just flop, throwing a blanket over Jungkook before yourself, kind of kicking it into place with a giggle, hitting his shin and ankle a bit clumsily, but he doesn’t mind one bit and then throwing one over yourself too, and within seconds you’re out, your body in complete relaxation.

It was a mere 10 minutes from you being scruffed to you being completely out, and Seokjin kind of just had to sit back in shock, turning towards Jungkook to say, Let's go now, but to his dismay, he was also fast asleep. In fact, when Seokjin approaches, his lips lift in a soundless snarl and his hand reaches out, holding your ankle, palm over the scent gland there protectively even in his sleep. You purr so loud at the contact that it shocks Jin out of his blatant disbelief and staring

The door slowly opens behind him, 5 heads comedically peaking through and Jin quickly urges them not to make any noise, the only noises in the room being your purrs and Jungkook’s grumbling; the scent nearly knocks the five of them out, kind of all piled on top of each other to get a peak before they stumble in.

Initially, they are filled with pure concern, scared they will come in and you’ll still be curled up in pain but thats… not what they find…

You have fluffed up all the edges of the bed and all its nesting materials to make a sweet nest, pulled a blanket over yourself, and are sleeping with only Yoongi’s shirt - not that they know that exact detail - and a happy smile on your lips, and Jungkook is slowly curling closer and closer around your body. You began in kind of an upside-down T position, Jungkook sideways along the bottom of the bed, but now he has moved and you are in more of a J position, Jungkook bent in half and curled around your ankles, not that you mind; the more contact you have, the louder your purrs get.

The 5 new additions stand in pure shock, mouths agape at the turn in events and turn to Seokjin questioningly: What kind of magic did he work…

“I scruffed her, and she took off her scent blockers, and then Jungkook… ” - He references Jungkook holding onto your ankles protectively, rubbing his neck against them, and scenting you in your sleep whilst you smile and slightly wiggle, his hairs ticklish but never pulling away.

The boys look at Jin incredulously; Jimin and Yoongi go to take a step even closer, and Jin shoots his arms out, stopping them.

“She might pull you in and then wake up with alphas she didnt consciously invite in with her-” - They stop dead in their tracks because, as much as the idea of you inviting them into your nest is absolutely incredible, not when you're asleep.

They take a few more moments to look before Taehyung yawns, suddenly feeling tired, alongside the others, slowly realising your pheromones are easing them into a sleepier, more relaxed state, so they quietly vacate the room to talk.

All spread out on the couches in the living room, they try to wake themselves up a little, turning to Jin for a full explanation.

“To put it simply, i think her omega is fighting the workload she puts on herself.” They all frown, borderline growling and snarling at the thought of you being in that kind of state because of your body being overworked, a concept they are highly familiar with, and highly familiar with the consequences but they can’t even imagine the consequences for an omega… Well they kind of can now, seeing it firsthand.

“I didn’t even get the story of what happened; Jungkook wasn’t exactly… present but she was in a lot of pain, skin irritated all over her back and, im guessing, extreme internal pains but the more she listened to her instincts, or the more her omega came to surface, should i say, the less pain she was in so i asked her if she wanted me to scruff her… thats what happened after.” - Jin references back to Jungkook’s room

“What about tomorrow?” - Yoongi asks knowing you wouldn't happily give up your schedule, wouldn't listen to their advice to rest a little usually. Aside from that he's not able to push out the image of you in his shirt, a little sense of pride and satisfaction settling in, alpha convinced it's helping you to have his scent and clothes.

“I told her she can’t go in tomorrow; she’s not happy about it but…”

“But has she told anyone?” - Namjoon knows you arent the only one who works there but you run the place and do the baking so…

“Maybe we should wake her up now to tell someone and then let her go back to sleep” - Jimin suggests, the rest of them agreeing.

They know you'll probably be distressed and you can't just not say anything to anyone and not show up to work, they've met your friends, your co-workers, and have seen your friendship, know you're close.

Taehyung and Jimin agree to be the ones to do it, going into Jungkook's room and slowly approaching, but Taehyung suggests they wake up Jungkook to wake you up rather than you having two alphas who weren't originally there waking you up.

“Jungkook…” - Taehyung shakes Jungkook, watching his face contort and then slowly open his eyes

“Kookie can you wake her up…” - Jimin asks, nodding towards you, Jungkook just closes his eyes, wraps his arms tighter around your ankles

“No.” - Firm and certain, Jungkook blatantly refuses, or rather, his alpha refuses

“But we need to-” - Taehyung tries to reason, getting a little hazy at being so close to your full scent

“Dont care” - Is all Jungkook says back, practically shooing them away. Possessive and bossy alphas, am I right? Much to their dismay, you open your eyes and stare at them in confusion, sitting up a little.

“What do you need to do?” - You ask, sleepy and still half-asleep, still half omega-driven.

“We thought you’d need to let people know about tomorrow…” - Jimin tries gently, not wanting you to get upset or fully wake up, but with your omega still leading your actions, you blindly reach for your phone, feeling around next to the bed and coming out of the blanket to do so, Jungkook trying to hold onto you still and the mids of your thighs now on display momentarily, Tae and Jimin’s breaths catching in their throats, looking away quickly.

You send a cryptic message to the girls, simple and blunt, that you’re sick and can’t be in tomorrow; there’s bakes already finished for tomorrow, and since you were planned to be in the back tomorrow anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You'd definitely think of it so simply and easily if you weren't - luckily - still lead by your omega because you'd fret and worry and panic yourself over and over about every last detail if you werent. You send it and then drop your phone again, shuffling back down and pulling the blanket high over you, nuzzling into the softness and opening your eyes again.

A little smile settles on your face, and you reach your hands out towards them, urging them closer and then tugging them in, just as you did with Jungkook and Seokjin. The second their knees hit the border of the nest, you’re asleep again, shuffling your ankles back into Jungkook’s hold.

“What do we do…” - Taehyung whispers to Jimin, stuck between getting in and leaving, remembering Jin’s words earlier.

They both desperately want to accept your invite but… they don’t want to overwhelm you when your back in your conscious mind. Jungkook isn’t leaving anytime soon but whilst they still hold onto their sanity, they slowly back away, satisfied with you having texted your friends and retreating back to the living room

Rather than confirming that they sorted it, Jimin blurts the first thing on his mind, cheeks hotter than the sun.

“She hasnt got trousers on hyung!?-” - They all turn to Jin at Jimin’s outburst, and he brushes him off, saying, You clearly didn’t want them on, and you’re bundled in blankets and Yoongi’s t-shirt; they are next to the bed if you’d like them on, but he can’t force them on you. He’s red-cheeked by the end of his rant, and they all kind of look at him and laugh a little.

“This is not how i expected the first time her being in our house would be like.” - Hoseok groans out, not happy that you came here upset and in pain.

“Well... at least Jungkook’s not exactly avoiding her anymore is he…” - Taehyung adds, trying to find a positive in the negative.

“God, she really needs to put less work on herself; I’m certain she’s been scolded for it multiple times” - Yoongi stresses, rubbing his hand over his face in worry.

“We can speak to her about it tomorrow if she’s feeling better.” - Namjoon reasons, looking at the time, 10pm.

Throughout the night, each one of them individually goes to just peek in and check on you both, but you’re out like a light, deep sleeping and hardly moving, neither of you, besides Jungkook silently snarling every time someone comes in the room.

The following morning, they continue, just checking in on you both every now and then, but the hours roll by—7am, then 9am, then 11am and neither of you even stir.

Some of the pack had to leave for their tasks; some stayed to keep an eye on you both and be there when you wake up. It’s surreal that you’re in their pack home, fast asleep, but it feels so right; even if you weren’t originally there for any positive reason, you are sleeping soundly now, and that eases something in all of their brains.

You begin to rise at 12:30ish, your shuffling urging Jungkook to slowly wake up too; you’re both a little hazy when you wake, slowly sitting up and sitting in silence, drowsy and rubbing over your faces and hair, not really processing the position you’re both in right now.

You feel… so much better. Finally, as if you’ve rested - which you have, 14 pushing 15 hours of straight sleep. And you’re not in your room- no it’s far too big to be your room, but you are in a nest that smells an awful lot like you and fresh laundry and spring rain. And of course the fact that Jungkook is rising from sleep too at the end of the bed… wait- Jungkook is also waking up-

You’re in his room- in a nest you kind of both made on his bed after he carried you up and took care of you when you were in pain and then Jin scruffed you and you dragged him into the nest and you both fell asleep- Oh my god…

You go from blankly staring and rubbing your eyes to staring at Jungkook wide-eyed; he’s still in a little bit of a haze from nuzzling at the scent gland near your ankles the entire night and morning, just like you were with nuzzling into his sheets and scented blankets and Yoongi’s shirt- YOONGI’S SHIRT-

Suddenly, you aren’t the only one staring wide eyed, Jungkook’s staring right back at you with the same expression and he gets to the words before you, looking down at the nest and how he’s in it and then-

“I am… so sorry!--” - He grumbles out, voice raspy with sleep and borderline about to jump out off of his own bed in fear that he’s upset you but he hasn’t- he really hasn’t hes done more than you would of ever asked for in a million years-

“Why are you sorry?! I'm sorry!” - You squeeze your eyes shut momentarily, looking around and gesturing to yourself, the nest and his room.

You kind of have a battle of apologies, neither of you moving a single bit though, just sitting up staring at each other, so well rested it’s blissful, half-shouting at each other back and forth over and over with messy bed hair, there are slowly smiles rising on both of your faces even if you are pretty much arguing away.

Through both of your shouting you didn’t hear footsteps pounding down the hallway, but you do hear the slamming of Jungkook’s door opening, startling you both and you jumped a little in his direction; he jumped in yours and within a moment grabs you in his arms and drags you towards him protectively, eliciting a small yelp from you, but you don’t protest; his arms are strong… Both of you stare at the culprit in the door.

Yoongi.

He goes from frantic and alert to relaxing, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk when he realises you aren’t trying to kill each other; in fact, you’re looking pretty cosy wrapped in Jungkook’s arms. You relax when you see who it is, and then tense again, looking down at yourself and seeing Yoongi’s shirt- on your body- and pretty much only that-

Much to Jungkook’s alpha’s approval, you don’t immediately try to scramble out of his arms; in fact, you kind of lean back into his warmth. It makes sense; the house runs colder since they all run hotter unlike you.

“Thought you guys were arguing” - Yoongi says with a sly smirk, looking you up and down as if assessing your situation.

Both you and Jungkook scramble to reply, denying? Agreeing? You don’t really know.

You grow a deep shade of red over your cheeks, so does Jungkook and you slowly- reluctantly- detangle yourself, sitting side by side rather than borderline on his lap. Nope, don’t even think about that.

“Sleep well?” - Yoongi asks, not really teasing now, genuinely concerned, but you don’t look to be in any pain. It only fuels the blush on your cheeks as you once again intake your current situation, nodding a little and refusing to meet his eyes.

“And you?” - Yoongi asks Jungkook, now hes definitely teasing, Jungkook half-glares half-blushes and also nods.

“Jin had to go today, he had a meeting scheduled for 1 so he literally just left but… are you feeling any better Y/n?” - Hold on. Left just now for a meeting at 1?

“He just left? What time is it?” - You ask, looking around for a clock but why would Jungkook even have a clock- in his room… in his BEDROOM.

“12:45” - The way both you and Jungkook’s eyes bulge out of your heads is comedic, looking at eachother in shock… You have quite literally never slept anywhere near so long since well before you opened the cafe- a long long time before and Jungkook doesn’t think he’s slept this long in- well… ever. You forget to answer for a moment and then remember Yoongi’s question and turn back to him, rubbing your arm nervously.

“I feel a lot better, i don’t know what happened im sorry” - Suddenly feeling shame over everything that went on, Yoongi rushes over and Jungkook protests your words besides him, once again telling you to stop being sorry

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be sorry, we’re glad Jungkook was able to bring you here rather than that happen and probably still be happening if you were alone, we’re happy your here” - The pain in his voice shows how much he cares and you slump, accepting the reality of yeah, you don’t know what you would of done if that pain had hit you when it did and Jungkook wasn’t there. You didn’t take his last sentence into account at first.

“You two need to eat in a minute, come out when your ready” - Is the last thing Yoongi says before leaving you and Jungkook alone again, shifting in your spot and then turning to him.

“Thank you for taking care of me”

“Thank you for letting me in your nest”

“Thank you for letting me make a nest”

“Well, thank you for-” - He cuts himself off when theres a bright smile on your face, one taking over his own too and your impending battle of thank you’s fizzles into giggles, your hands subconsciously kneading into the blankets around you, comfortable.

“Can i- see your back?” - Jungkook hesitates but he can’t shake off the worry, can’t shake off his alpha hounding at him to make sure you’re really okay. You nod and then freeze, grabbing one of the blankets that had been wrapped around one of you to sleep - Jungkooks.

You wrap it quickly around your waist, covering your entire legs and lowest point of your back because of course you’d decided not to wear the pyjama pants- you curse your omega for it of course, ignored. Jungkook blushes when he realises what you were doing and then you untuck the shirt so that he can lift it, quickly getting to what he said and freezing, holding the shirt up because-

“They’re gone…” - You frown in confusion, not pulling away when Jungkook gently swipes his finger over your spine to check for heat or irritation like there was last night but theres none, erased as if they never existed. You’re certain Jin’s cream can’t have been magic but…

“Not even one patch?” - You try to feel the back of your neck where you tend to get them most, it’s not painful but you do jump because its sensitive, a whole lot more sensitive than usual and Jungkook worries instantly.

“Does it hurt?-” - He frets, hand hovering your nape just in case but you twitch just from the heat radiating off of his hand alone

“Nope!- Uh, not painful!” - You get out, sounding entirely unconvincing and Jungkook glares at the spot from behind you and then remembers you got scruffed; it's probably- oh.

“Theres no patches anywhere.” - You’ll confirm his words when you’re in the bathroom later but for now you want to test something, straightening your back and lifting your arms over your head, stretching and your bones pop a little but- no pain, not even a single bit… Thats- impossible surely.

“Hurts?” - Jungkook asks, hesitant but you turn to him with a bright smile and stars in your eyes, shaking your head happily and he feels accomplished- his alpha trying to convince him it was his own doing

All of his hesitance- well, a good chunk of it atleast- seems to have disintegrated, an unfamiliar barrier removed between him and his counterpart and it feels, freeing? Right?

Suddenly, you feel a spurt of energy, this newfound lack of pain kind of pushing you to get up and jump about and maybe run down the hallway, your omega likes that idea, pushing you to get up and run and see if Jungkook chases you- wait- ignore that thought.

You stand first, stretching your legs and not planning to leave the room without putting some pants on first but then you look at the nest you- and jungkook- built on his bed and blush, heavily, rushing back towards the bed and about to begin to deconstruct it

“Ah- i’ll clean this up-” - Your actions are cut off by Jungkooks plea

“Wait! Don’t, please-” - He can feel his cheeks absolutely burning with embarrassment at his pushy plea for you to leave the nest but you freeze, slowly take a step back and nod after simply neatening up the blankets a little, fluffing it up a bit- Jungkook’s alpha sees it as you preparing if yet again for you or maybe even for him too and he blushes even heavier at that, clearing his throat

“Is that- is it okay?” - He asks and he really is unaware of the way your hearts pounding against your chest, holding back heavy purrs from his acceptance of your nest- atleast thats the way your omega sees it.

“Mhm-” - You barely squeak out before turning on your feet, grabbing the pile of clothes you had put on the floor the night before and gesturing that your going to quickly run in the bathroom, he nods, waiting for you outside.

On the top of the pile is your phone, a whole bunch of messages from the girls assuring you it’s okay and that you need to call them if you need anything and to get better soon. You send a quick reply, assuring them you’re okay and that you’ll speak to them soon about it.

After that- time to put on some trousers- you opt for the pyjama ones that your omega couldn’t justify rolling up so many times last night but you can do it now, rolling them just twice and thinking it’s fine because you don’t want to take too long even if they are still long enough to hook under your feet and trip you- you also put on your bra quickly, just your jeans left to set down somewhere.

Jungkook’s put on a hoodie over his t-shirt or maybe instead of his t-shirt you can’t really tell but he kept the pyjama pants on still, now realising they are kind of matching. Jungkook has a habit of collecting multiple of the same clothes or in very similar styles.

He looks over your form with a smile and then his alpha spots a hazard- or thats what he’d call it amongst other words and before his brain can catch up with his body, he’s kneeling infront of you and rolling the hem of the trousers a few more times so that they sit comfortably at your ankles- which he had scented throughout the night he was just reminded of-

You’re blushing when he stands, a little purry, hidden behind a clearing of your throat and neither of you meet the others eyes.

“Are you warm enough?” - He worries, your back was quite cold in his opinion when he had touched it earlier but you just nod, not wanting to push anyone to care for you more than they already have.

You both make your way out, you following Jungkook’s lead, taking in the decor of the apartment and particularly eyeing the multitude of pillows and blankets littered across the living room area and to your delight- not that your picking but still- their living room and kitchen is open plan- just like yours. And something smells delicious-

Yoongi’s in the kitchen, his back to you two, cooking something that also smells pretty delicious. You don’t quite know where to place yourself- the kitchen is usually your home but this isnt your home so you stand kind of awkwardly when someone walks up behind you and gently places a hand on your back, pushing you towards a chair. You jump, spinning to find a grinning Jimin, and he once again nudges you towards a chair on the kitchen island, find of getting back at you for all the pushing you were doing to him at your apartment. You follow, not quite knowing what else you would do with yourself and Jungkook asks what you’d like to drink, listing out a whole bunch of things, so much so that you don’t catch it all, it’s almost robotic actually.

Your reply is cut off by a cold glass of a dark reddish-pink juice being placed infront of you, is that-

“Pomegranate juice” - Namjoon says from behind you. You light up, body going rigid, and then your legs kicking in delight, a bright smile on your cheeks. He remembered- of course he did; it's Namjoon. You don’t want to assume he sought out the juice for you, but you do know it’s a niche fruit juice to pick, so maybe you get your hopes up a little bit.

You’re so happy that you spin in your seat and practically launch yourself at Namjoon- maybe your still in a bit of a haze after all of their scents have been around you and sleeping in Jungkooks room but… You don’t jump out of the seat to do it but nearly, sitting on the edge of the seat and wrapping your arms around the alpha’s neck, his surprise quickly transforms into bliss, wrapping his own arms around your waist, careful not to put much pressure in case it still hurts.

Namjoon’s very far from the touchiest member of the group, he hardly ever initiates it, but he thinks that will change with you in their lives now- as far as you already are in their lives he means... When you pull back, you feel a little embarrassed at how you’d thrown yourself onto him but the blush on his face and those dimples is absolutely worth it, muttering a thank you to him, and he brushes it off, sitting next to you with a coffee while Jungkook settles down with one too, his iced.

“Don’t think i’ve ever seen Yoongi run so fast you know, what were you two shouting about?” - Jimin teases, sitting at the end of the table whilst you and Jungkook sit opposite in silence, sipping at your drinks and avoiding. Yoongi briefly grumbles about Jimin’s dig at him but its kind of swallowed by the thick silence sat between you three as Jimin waits for a reply he is simply not going to get. What happened in Jungkook’s bedroom stays in Jungkooks bedroom- wait- uh…

“Y/n do you like Japchae?” - Yoongi asks, a saviour in the heavy silence. You tell him you do, and they all fall into brief conversation. You kind of feel out of place, as if your intruding; of course you do-

That imposing feeling is the reason for you kind of awkwardly just looking down at your own feet and wiggling them as if they are the most interesting thing in the world, swirling your pomegranate juice like its whiskey- just as delicate as whiskey to you anyway. Why did you choose to wear mismatched Pokémon socks of all things- charmander and squirtle staring up at you, you can hear charmanders scream and practically see the scene of their battle in your head… why do you want to recreate it with your feet- Hm, maybe you should, just-

“What are you smiling about?” - Namjoon asks following your gaze and then breaking out in a smile of his own, similar to the one you hadn’t noticed on your own face. He’s just about to comment- you can see it until you glare right back, your expression saying dont you dare, even if your socks are open for anyone to see… He hides his smile behind his hand and nods, keeping his amusement to himself.

You wonder how the girls are doing at the cafe on their own, maybe you should check and see if they need your help… yeah… nope apparently not because the moment you try to sneakily take your phone out like a kid in the back of class, Yoongi’s that one teacher with eyes in the back of his head.

“Put it down.” - You kind of gape at him- for starters you are not a dog and also how did he even know?! Then you see the reflection in the stained glass above the oven, betrayal, truly.

Sinking into yourself is all you can really do when the other three turn to you and catch on to what you were going to do; your phone slowly going back into your pocket, you’ll just check it when you leave- probably soon, has to be soon; you can’t intrude anymore.

Jungkook is glaring at your phone like it just ate his last twinkie, and you can hardly understand why- well maybe you can, but you’d rather not admit it, you know, your pride and all.

“Do you cook a lot, Y/n?” - Yoongi asks with his eyes still on the japchae he’s tossing. Two of the people at the counter already know the answer to this one, so much so that you can’t even get a word in before they answer for you.

“She doesn’t like the cleanup,” - Jimin calls out, without a single change in his tone, like it’s been deeply embedded in his brain for years

“So is that a no?” - Yoongi looks at you questionably through the reflection of the glass and you nod firmly, he doesn’t judge, a little surprise on his face though. Somehow, a few moments later Namjoon finds it in his mind to either make this into a competition of who knows the most about you or just finds it fun to blurt out random facts.

“In an ideal world, she wants a balcony.” - Says it over the edge of his book like it’s nothing and then Jungkook perks up, never one to lose a competition. It’s not relevant at all, Namjoon nor Jungkooks comments but they still say it, as if reading out from the texts in their mind.

“She only ever gets the exact same ramen and gimbap everytime she goes to the store even if she spends 10 minutes looking over all the options” - He clearly feels satisfied when no one retorts back at his words but you on the other hand- shocked. Are they just good listeners and really observant or do you just talk too much… It definitely doesn’t make you feel a bit giddy that they remember things like that though- absolutely not…

“You know, we have a balcony but we don’t really use it” - Yoongi cuts off their battle of who knows you best just to push on that one fact about the balcony. He can see you perk up, looking around as if a celebrity has just waltzed in- even if you are in a room with 4 of them, this new celebrity being a beloved balcony. Namjoon just hums in agreement, Jimin points to a door on the other side of the livingroom.

“Aish you should use it more- so lucky” - You gush, shaking your head in disapproval, taking another sip of your juice

“You should use it for us, i don’t think we ever go out there” - Jimin continues, you laugh it off but they just continue.

“Ah yeah, you’d make it all pretty out there too; we’d probably use it more then.” - Namjoon adds on, He’s speaking the truth; if it was nicely decorated, he’d definitely read out there; the view is incredible, but it feels just dark and empty out there.

“We should make a deal: Y/n becomes our designer for the balcony, and in return she has full access to it 24/7” - Jimin nods firmly, agreeing with his own proposition, and Jungkook has been ooing and ahing to all of their back-and-forths about said balcony, taking this whole deal seriously unlike you, and standing up suddenly, expecting you to follow. He looks a bit childish, kind of waddling rather than walking, and his hair spikes in every direction possible, not having brushed it after the sleep. Turning back to you, he gestures for you to get up and go.

You do, just curious as to what space they are wasting outside- purely curiosity you tell yourself and to say you’re impressed with the view and heavily disappointed with them is an understatement. Jungkook stands at the door when you go from a normal walk outside to rushing to the barrier, leaning over and taking it all in because the view is- incredible isn’t even the right word; you can hardly imagine what it’s like at night, but you see why they don’t use it; there’s not even a chair out here. Oh, what you’d do with a space like this- some plants here, different types of chairs and couches there, oh- a fire pit there, maybe an electric one if they can’t have a real one but it absolutely has to be a dark bronze-

Jungkook can see the stars in your eyes as you look around it all, pretty much dancing around the space as you take in the view from every angle, parading down the barrier on each side. You’re calculating where things could- should go, then you turn to him accusingly

“Yah- why don’t you guys use this!” - You’re clearly passionate on the subject, waving your hands around to gesture wildly. He listens as you go to each corner, pointing at different things you spot and giving all your reasons on why you think they’re silly for not taking the opportunity to. You turn around after a few minutes of you not getting a single reply to your endless reasoning and then stand a little frozen, a little confused because Jungkook’s just smiling, not with teeth, as if it’s funny, not as if he’s making fun of you, just smiling, admiring.

It knocks the rest of the reasons you had right out of your brain, a little dumbfounded with his staring. You don’t think you’ve been this passionate about something other than the cafe since, well, a long time before the cafe- you love it; it’s your dream come true, but it did become your entire life. Maybe you should try to find some kind of way to have more time to yourself. Yoga looks fun.

You laugh at your own thought, and Jungkook joins in, just finding your laugh contagious.

“Really, you should decorate it and come back to use it” - Jungkook gets out, avoiding your eyes as he says the last bit; maybe he does want you here more, more than he can quite accept at this moment.

“I might have too if you all keep neglecting it like this” - You retort, once again laughing off his words, hardly taking them seriously, and he can see you raring up to scold everyone else in the kitchen for their ignoring of the balcony you deem so amazing. Jungkook wants to tell you he's serious, that you really should, but he's cut off by Yoongi calling out for you both to come and eat. It’ll have to wait.

Sitting back down at the table after Yoongi has sat and already set everything out, your juice appears to have magically refilled itself, and when you take in the look and smell of it all, you nearly melt into a puddle right there in the middle of the kitchen. You haven’t had anything truly homely in a long time. While you make an effort to avoid eating instant ramen every day, that doesn’t mean that the meals you do prepare are especially tasty or well-planned; instead, they are typically just simplified versions of meals because you lack the energy to put in the work. On Fridays you have a nice dinner, but it isn’t a home-cooked meal.

That's probably why it feels oddly relaxing, comforting to have something really cooked for you, a real meal; it tastes 10x more delicious this way too. Yoongi set out a variety of side dishes, probably ones they always have on hand like kimchi, and even cooked up some bulgogi. How he prepared everything is a mystery to you, alongside not liking the cleanup; you aren't great at multitasking with savoury food- hence your meals tending to be deconstructed and a little all over the place.

The smell is mouthwatering; there's a bowl and chopsticks already in front of you, and as soon as everyone is seated, they begin dishing up what they want. You can hardly process it before Jimin deposits a large amount of japchae into your bowl- too much for you to eat, you're guessing—and then, like clockwork, each of them just puts different sides into your bowl whilst doing their own before you have a chance.

Something you quickly realise is that they are an equally lively and calm bunch; you’re excited before you even take a bite because Jungkook takes one mouthful and starts physically jumping up and down while he chews, an angry sort of look on his face before diving in for yet another bite. Namjoon makes loud happy noises, and Yoongi just kind of eats with silent nods of approval, Jimin too, making a little conversation here and there.

The first bite is heavenly, so is the second, and the third; you still won’t finish the entire bowl because they overload it as if they are feeding three of you, but you think you’ll get damn close. Maybe everyone has their own way of eating good food because yours is to look at it wide-eyed and tap your feet against the kitchen island where they swing back and forth, tapping quite rapidly with small nods of your head. You gush your approval over the food more than once, so much that you don’t even notice Yoongi’s cheeks getting progressively pinker with each one, too entranced with the flavours exploding in your mouth.

This is domestic, feels natural and Namjoon is watching the tapping of your feet against the counter with amusement, never ceasing the entirety of the meal. It feels right.

You wait until the end of the meal to get back to the point of you being here in the first place. Sure, you’d apologised to Jungkook and Yoongi but you don’t know who was here, who was fretting over you; your omega is unusually quiet and calm, happy today though; recently she’s been nagging at you a lot, but now just- quiet acceptance after the whole scuffing and sleep thing.

Much to your dismay, you can’t even get a word in yet before Yoongi’s scolding you.

“Aish don’t do that” - He says, pointing at you with his chopsticks. You freeze, offence written all over your face

“Do what?” - Your apology is momentarily forgotten in this new moment of Yoongi telling you off

“I already said, don’t apologise.” - He shakes his head and the other three agree, voices all on top of one another.

“I didnt.” - You press, eyebrows raised as if they’re trying to touch your hairline, caught red handed

“You were going to” - He gives you the ‘don’t even try to lie’ look and you deflate, huffing out and bouncing your knee up and down to hold back the urge to apologise. That is until Namjoon puts his hand on your knee and stops its bouncing physically, just pressing down and then letting go. You’re thoroughly stunned enough to listen, and it also kind of takes away from your strong desire to apologise even if only momentarily. He isn’t doing it out of annoyance; the touch is soft. He rubs his thumb over your knee the briefest amount just once; it’s reassurance, a stop to your anxiety.

Jimin has to leave shortly after, just the three men and you are left; apparently, those three just have to write some songs and can do it in their own time so they don’t have to be in the studio today.

“I don’t think you should go home just yet Y/n” - Namjoon says without hesitation once you’ve all moved onto the couches, well, more just like you, Yoongi and Namjoon because Jungkook went to shower and change. You furrow your brows, eager to get out of their hair but not to get away.

“Why not?” - Yoongi just raises his eyebrow at you, a dead silent ‘are you serious?’ at your reply

“You’re going to throw yourself right back into work, trust me, we get it, but it’s not healthy” - Namjoon stresses, using his hands to exaggerate, and you can see the conflict on his face, but you can only sigh, leaning on your hand as you think back; the rest clearly did your body good, and maybe glimpses of a life less led by one thing is what’s making you feel a little warmer. Physically, it’s clearly helped, but mentally, it’s a struggle to walk away from putting as much effort and time in as you do.

“What he’s trying to say is; you’re body is fighting you Y/n, you can’t do this again” - Yoongi adds, blunt, but there’s a hint of raw emotion underneath. You pull the pillow by you a little closer in comfort because it doesn’t feel good to be scolded; of course it doesn’t, but you don’t know what to say.

“Just… stay, for today?” - Namjoon asks, practically pleads and you think it over; you’ve already stayed the night now- whats a few more hours if it makes them happier…

“Okay, I’ll stay for a while” - You nod, confirming and they both let out a sigh of relief, but now what do you do?

Inside Jungkook’s room, said man is kind of battling with himself, staring at his bed heavily conflicted as his body twitches to jump right back into the nest but his logical brain is saying: you’ve slept for 15 hours and you’ll sleep another 15 if you get in- you can’t do that.

Alongside that, he’s just got out the shower, in fresh clothes and he feels he should certainly become reaccustomed to the scent covering his bed… right? Especially when it smells so sweet in comparison to how you smelt last night originally, he likes this version.

“Kook.” - He spins, wide-eyed and caught red-handed, taking a jump back as if this isnt his own room to you and Yoongi at the door, his hyung looking all too smug.

“How long have you been standing there?” - He teases, Jungkook stutters over his reply, eyes darting between the bed and you both at the door before Yoongi gives up, taking his leave but you stay. Having been watching for a few minutes as he bit at his lips and stared so heavily at the nest.

“It is your room Jungkook, you can take it apart if you’d like” - You say, even if the words cause a pang to your heart and an internal whine from your omega, you don’t forget Jungkooks protest to you doing it earlier though and when he gives the same reaction, half-panciked at your suggestion

“No! No thats not-” - You’ve just noticed he has a little lisp, its cute, one of those things that you notice about each of these alphas that makes them more and more endearing, like Namjoon’s clumsiness. Then you catch on, or atleast kind of, you think so and your mouth works before your brain

“Then in that case, you know you can get in it too- right?” - As the words come out you kind of want to slap a hand over your head, why just why did you squark that out!?- Despite your own conflict, Jungkook’s eyes brighten and in an instant, like a puppy waiting for the ‘go ahead’ for his food, he’s bouncing right into the middle, splaying out across it but somehow not really moving a single thing out of it’s original place. It fills you with a sense of pride, you try to ignore how he has a face full of your scent, referring more to his comfortability when you ask

“Nice?” - Tilting your head with a big smile, Jungkook doesn’t even lift his head to answer, words muffled

“The best” - Oh- Now that makes you blush. You laugh a little awkwardly, not used to all these new things like having someone admire- desire- your nest and appreciate it other than you, it’s different to the one at home, some would argue it’s more intimate being in his bed rather than your own.

Rather than awkwardly standing at the door, you just walk over and sit on the edge, fingers twitching to reach out and run your hands through his wet hair, resisting and refocusing when he turns onto his side, staring at you, more like staring at your back, pursing his lips and frowning a little even if his eyes are dilated to the max and he feels blissful.

Moments later he’s holding out his pinky towards you, you stare at it for a second, confused, then melting at his words. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more appreciated than you have in the last 24 hours with them, never more cared for, more heard and doted over and your heart races, a little frown setting over your own face at the puppy-like look on Jungkook’s face, from the time you’ve known him, he’s always seemed kind of unsure, right now, he’s sure, sure in his care, in his worries.

“Promise you’ll try to listen to your body more.” - He waits, a childish gesture, but at this moment, it hardly feels invaluable; in fact, it seems to hold a whole lot more than just a curl of your pinkies. You let out a shaky breath before reaching your own out, intertwining it, fingers fitting around each others perfectly, his larger, a small tattoo at the base of his knuckle, and you stay like that longer than you both know is necessary.

“Promise”

—------------------------------------------------------------

Don’t ask any of the three men how they ended up here. They haven’t got a clue but what they do know is you sure can get bossy. They aren’t complaining- you’d like to say your precise and know what will look good rather than bossy.

They’d revealed in passing that they have a room filled with trinkets and furniture that they aren’t quite sure what to do with, and you’d stared at them in pure disbelief, refocusing on that balcony. Demanding to see said room was the first thing, and now where are they? Going back and forth, bringing things this way and that way according to your instructions.

The room was like a jackpot, filled with all sorts of pieces that had your eyes shining with ideas, with inspiration and while the three only saw a jumble of different things, you have a vision.

“So that balcony…” - You say, dragging out your words slyly and turning to them with your eyes shining bright, a silent question as you look between the contents of the room and them- who are they to say no?

If you’re going to spend the day here, not working, you might as well make yourself half-useful and help them make use of a space so so precious. The storage room goes from jumbled chaos to just having a few leftover pieces that didn’t quite make it into the final design, now that its pretty much empty you can notice the amazing natural light, it would make a great sunbathing room for a cat.

Anything particularly heavy - such as the large faux leather chair you’d dedicated to one particular corner—was assigned to Jungkook, who complained that his hyungs were perfectly capable of carrying them too; they did but anything they could went to Jungkook. Jungkook and Namjoon had already proved their strength over a month ago in the cafe- lifting the chairs so you have no doubt that they have the ability and Yoongi doesn’t make so much as a single grunt lifting things either, a very good bunch.

An XL outdoor rug, a leather chair, a large sofa-type thing, a wooden table and various small pieces and trinkets were brought out.

The boys simply did the heavy stuff, and without complaint. You would have done it yourself, but hey, what's the point when there are three muscled men there who could do it and argued to do it rather than you anyway? Simply saving yourself a job. You’re as independent as they come but what’s indulging once in a while anyway?

In the span of the time taken to bring it all out and place it where you want, you’ve made yourself a little more accustomed to their kitchen in between your instructions, making the hard-working boys a round of lemonade and fruit-filled smoothies. You can’t let them get dehydrated when they’re doing all the heavy lifting for you, each round being gulped down in seconds by the men.

The summer heat seems to be creeping up today, it’s manageable inside where it’s air-conditioned but with the three lifting and carrying and going back and forth outside, they end up pretty sweaty- determined- but sweaty and you have to force them to take a break after every few pieces. That does come with the rules of the break though- You shooed them away from the couches indoors because they were not getting them sweaty as if it was your own house and instead pushed them to the kitchen stools.

They don’t take their shirts off, but they might as fucking well- lifting them up to wipe their heads every two minutes, having to dart your eyes away because your omega- and you (don’t lie and say you dont) like that a bit too much. I will note what you notice though… Jungkook is built with a small waist and a full set of abs, not the kind that look like rocks, the kind that make you want to bite them. Namjoon has less defined abs, so visibly there but he’s like… thick in the best way- Like an effortless kind of fit. Once again, you’d definitely want to bite them. Unfortunately, you don’t get to see even a peak of Yoongi’s stomach- you think it would also be very biteable; there seems to be a pattern here… moving on.

What’s wrong with appreciating the view in front of you right?- Doesn’t mean anything- you can say someone’s attractive without it meaning too much more right?!- Okay enough-

When they are done, they’re all panting, and you push them onto the now outdoor couch, they can rest now while you begin your own part. Fairy lights and lanterns first. They had a box with a good variety and you best believe you’d tried out each and every set to find the warmest lighting and only picked those ones.

You’re going to hang the lanterns along the wall and weave the fairylights pretty much everywhere- you can already see how it’ll end up and its perfect-

The lights wont drape anywhere too close to the plants, you’ll make sre they have just enough distance, maybe go at it from multiple angles to distract anyone from seeing that- make it seem like they are wrapped around the plants too. Amongst all of your thoughts you kind of ignore the three looking at you curiously, ignore the way they watch your every twitch.

You don’t acknowledge them as you step up onto the armrest of the couch, right next to Yoongi and then from there, step up onto the back of it. You feel perfectly stable but they do not agree- in a singular moment all three let out small sounds of distress and Yoongi’s hands are shooting up to hold onto your legs, going hard and then tugging you straight back down. The pull down is far less stable and safe than you felt actually standing ontop of the couch and you turn with a questioning look on your face, wobbling as Yoongi stabilises you back on the ground, hands still holding just above your knees.

“You cannot climb up there like that-” - Yoongi fusses, the other two agreeing quickly and it only confuses you-

“Why not?” - Once again Yoongi is giving you the ‘are you for real?’ look and you are just about ready to brush off their silly protests to continue when Yoongi’s hands go firmer on your legs, keeping you exactly where you are

“Thats not safe- you’ll fall” - Namjoon stresses, clearly about to go into the thickness of the couch nd the height and all of the aspects that he thinks contribute to the lack of safety of your found stepping stool.

Their worries aren’t needed- you’ve done far worse to climb up things- okay maybe not on a balcony but you’re no where near the barrier anyway, you’re against the homes wall You laugh a little at their fretting, more like giggle in amusement and shake your head

“I won’t fall, it’s not that bad really” - You insist but they all kind of scramble to keep you in place, multiple sets of arms reaching to stop you from climbing again- panicked. As fast as they come, you swat them away with another laugh. You’ll humor them since they are so clearly against it.

“Okay so what do you suggest?” - Maybe you shouldn’t of asked that because what did they opt for instead of you climbing on absolutely anything? Sitting on one of their shoulders.

“Atleast that way you’re properly stabilised-” - Namjoon pushes, rubbing the back of his neck, hot and red with his awkwardness and embarrassment, especially when you’re standing there with your hands on your hips accusingly, eyebrows raised as you wait for their explanatio.

“You aren’t on a ledge, you’ll be sitting so you won’t fall” - Yoongi reasons and it still doesn’t convince you, definitely amused with a smile threatening to take over your lips but you refuse to give in to their - pointless - worrying so easily.

“And when I fall off your shoulders? Make you stumble and then both of us fall?” - You question and then all three of them return your confusion, clearly not believing that is even a relevant worry.

“We wouldn’t let you fall and why would we even stumble?” - Jungkook pushes, leaning in, head tilted and you laugh as you answer.

“You might and obviously you could stumble- a whole human on your shoulders would be hard to handle” - Its good reasoning, atleast you believe so- you believe its the logical answer, the logical thinking but they clearly don’t. Namjoon and Yoongi break into hugely amused smiles and Jungkook actually laughs, you stare at them confused at what is so funny.

“Any one of us could benchpress three of you Y/n, it’s definitely not going to be hard to handle” - Yoongi says smugly from behind his smile and you falter, face going blank to begin with and then processing his words- How can he just say that and expect you to know how to reply when theres some weird butterfly sort of feeling in your stomach and your omega suddenly perks up in your mind, chirping about how strong they are-

You don’t really have a chance to think of a reply anyway because through the three men’s amusement, Namjoon is standing up and gesturing for you to come closer, you just do it, accepting that you really don’t have a comeback to Yoongi’s words besides the attempt of ‘prove it’ and you don’t think that would really help your flustered case right now.

“How do i-” - You start, not knowing where to put your hands, your legs- how are you meant to climb onto someones shoulders anyway?!

Namjoon gets onto one knee, back towards you and leans down to make himself a little lower but you kind of just reach out and then pull back multiple times really having no idea how to climb onto him properly-

“Just climb on” - Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, watching with amusement from besides you both

“What do you mean just climb on?! It’s not exactly an everyday thing climbing onto someones shoulders-” - You ramble and Namjoon has his head tilted down now, still waiting for you to get on but very amused, laughing a little.

You’re about to retort again and revert back to the original plan you had in mind- climbing the sofa not Namjoon’s body - when a sudden grip on your waist has you hoisted into the air, a yelp leaving your lips but you can’t think as you’re manhandled onto Namjoon’s shoulders, having to adjust your position to make this work, setting your legs around his neck, yelps leaving you one after the other at every movement, but you aren’t even in the air yet; you could stretch your toes and touch the floor from where you are, Namjoon still knelt down.

“Wait wait wait-” - You panic, Jungkook - who had lifted you onto Namjoon’s shoulders like you were a ragdoll, still has his hands on your waist, pretty much holding you up still and you grip onto his forearms hard, refusing to sit and put any weight on Namjoon’s shoulders, kind of in a weird bent diagonal position- trying to push your tiptoes on the floor to keep off his shoulders and balancing yourself but also not.

Yoongi’s laugh doesn’t make it any better; Namjoon holds so still so that he doesn’t spook you into losing balance and Jungkook has a very firm grip on you. Maybe it is a little funny, the boys’ amusement does bring a smile of your own to your face to be honest.

“I can’t sit on your shoulders Namjoon- i’ll be heav-” - You can’t even finish your sentence when Namjoon realises what you’re going to say, realising that is why you were saying wait and just takes it into his own hands, literally, reaching up, hands gripping onto your thighs and pulling you down firm until you are actually sitting on him. He doesn’t so much as twitch with your weight on him, no huff of air, nothing-

You can’t think as it all happens fast; no longer on your tip-toes, legs dangling over Namjoon’s chest now, sitting properly on his shoulders and Jungkook is pulling one of your hands off of his forearm to direct it towards Namjoon where your other hand follows, and you’re curling your body forward instinctually, hands grasping at his hair in panic; your eyes are wide at first and then squeezed shut.

Okay totally normal—just getting help hanging some fairy lights by sitting on his shoulders, totally normal, nothing to overthink about- nope not at all. Just focus-

“There we go, wasn’t so hard right?” - Namjoon asks, hands firm and secure on your thighs even if your feet are only dangling a bit off the ground so far, you slowly open your eyes and huff out, not answering that question because that was infact very hard. You’re soft in his hands, fingers dimpling into the soft flesh even through the pajama pants and he loves it.

“Am i hurting you” - Is what you say instead and Namjoon instantly denies, shaking his head, grip going a little firmer to keep you from trying to scramble off again and ultimately probably fall off. Then you notice your death grip on his hair and stumble over an apology, letting go and awkwardly petting his head better, the three alphas just laugh and Namjoon tells you it’s okay to hold on, you try not to but you have a feeling you probably will end up doing it anyway.

“Okay you ready for me to stand up? Just hold on, i promise i won’t drop you” - Namjoon tries to reassure you, you go tense where you’re sitting but nod even if he can’t see it, now or never and you’re half way there anyway-

He stands up in one fluid motion, as if you weren’t on his shoulders at all and at the sudden rise- hoisted high into the air and sitting a whole lot taller than you ever have the view of- you yelp and your legs cross in front of his chest where he still holds them, kind of going tight around his neck and you curl even more, your stomach pressed to the back of his head, holding onto his hair for dear life. You swear this whole ordeal has your life flashing before your eyes but… it is kind of exciting

Jungkook laughs where he sits, watching how it looks like your trying to do some sort of thigh chokehold on Namjoon and he doesn’t even complain, just holds you tighter but he does tap your thigh once, and you loosen just enough for it to be comfortable.

“Sorry- sorry… didn’t mean to choke you” - You scramble out, trying to slightly uncurl yourself and straighten up only to retreat from that mission for a moment because goddamn you are high up right now-

Yoongi stands next to both of you and then hands you the lights you need, string lanterns first and you hold them shakily at first, a bit reluctant to let go of Namjoon’s hair but when you do, you findt you don’t slip one bit, don’t even wobble, Namjoon is perfectly still as if you’re a part of his own body and his grip is grounding, reassuring, kind of relaxing even.

“Could you go to the corner if that’s okay?” - You ask, realising you can’t quite reach, and then Jungkook thinks of a solution rather than you verbally having to call out your directions each and every time.

“Have you ever watched Ratatouille, Y/n?” - You look over your shoulder at Jungkook, brows furrowed, but you nod and he perks up, leaning forward in his chair with a grin on his face.

“Just do what Remy does and tug a bit of his hair in the direction you need him to move” - Okay that is funny actually… Yoongi is nearly in tears; this whole situation has been far too amusing, even more so when you do actually pick up a section of hair in the middle of Namjoon’s head and tug it forward a little, a cheeky smile settling on your face when he just laughs and moves forward like you wanted him too.

Quickly, you realise you do actually have to straighten up though because where your curled over, Namjoons hair is tickling your sensitive stomach through the shirt you’re wearing and you keep twitching slightly, fearing that the more it swipes over you the harder you’ll twitch and then eventually fall so you straighten up and- okay this isn’t so bad…

A tug forward and Namjoon is walking even closer, okay maybe you can get used to this actually, it’s pretty fun.

You lean forward a little, thighs pressing further into Namjoon on impact and his grip tightens to keep you where you need to be whilst you begin to tie up the first string, fiddling a little but surprisingly, now that your up here, it’s not so scary.

Now that it’s actually happening the whole fact that you’re on his shoulders doesn’t really flash in your mind properly, you just kind of pull this way and that way and move how you need to, putting up all of the lights. To be honest, it is actually easier, you’re higher up and after a few minutes you’ve put all your trust in Namjoon, bending and turning freely despite being over 6ft in the air. You find that the closer you get to the balcony’s railing, the harder Namjoon’s grip gets and you joke a few times, reminding him that he said he wont drop you and such to ease the impending concern if there is any.

When you’re finished, you huff and relax in your new seat, Namjoon tilts his head back against your stomach to look up, which he has done quite a few times now and consequently has been rubbing his head on your stomach, scenting you a little there but you try to ignore the butterflies you get from it.

“Ready to get down?” - He asks, you nod, tellin him you are and then he steps into the middle where he picked you up before and once again you find yourself kind of curling over his fluffy head, holding on while he gets back down to the same position he did to pick you up and you think you could maybe awkwardly unhook one of your legs and try to slide down his back but you fear your other leg will get stuck. You can’t think too much about it anyway because Jungkook comes up behind you again and lifts you off easily, your legs kind of kick before they touch the floor, once again startled because how does he keep sneaking up on you like that-

Namjoon gets up once your off and your going to thank him when you see the mess you made of his hair, sticking in all kinds of directions. You smile sheepishly at it, reaching up.

“Sorry i messed up your hair” - You tell him and stand on your tiptoes to reach the top of his head, instinctively going to fix it

“Its okay” - Namjoon laughs out, dropping his head for you to reach, easily giving in to your desire to fix it, to care for him even the smallest bit. You run your hands through it over and over, brushing out the little tangles with your fingers and when you still can’t reach the very top of his head you walk a step closer, nearly toe to toe like you were outside of your apartment building in that hug that you will never forget.

Namjoon closes his eyes at the feeling, head drooping and when you step even closer, scent enveloping him more, his hands reach out before he consciously knows, resting on your waist. You freeze for a second, it shouldn’t stun you. You had Jungkook picking you up and down by your waist just moments ago, and Namjoon’s grip on your thighs, which were wrapped around his neck- it really shouldn’t stun you, but the warmth of his palms makes you shiver a little, skin prickling as a smile curls on your lips.

You don’t push him away; you don’t want to and your omega purrs within you at your acceptance, dragging it out just a little longer than necessary, fingers pushing his hair back over and over as if it really needs your untangling anymore, it doesn’t. Something in you is deeply satisfied by this kind of thing, by brushing through his hair, just like it was when you dried Jimin’s hair for him and did the same, it makes you want to purr.

Even when you take your hands away and Namjoon opens his eyes again, you can’t bring yourself to step back, bathing in the warmth of his hands covering your sides. It’s so gentle that it’s almost ticklish, you smile bashfully at him, cheeks definitely dusted in red and in that moment you can only focus on him, just him.

The only thing that snaps you both back to reality and has you taking a small, hesitant step back is the sound of the front door closing inside the home, echoing out and Yoongi gets up from his place to see who it is. Namjoon walks back and sits on the couch, relaxing back into it next to Jungkook and you quickly revisit your task- making this balcony perfect.

You dart around, tiny adjustments, everything seems to be in place but its missing something, you feel a deep kind of longing for something cozy, this could be cozy but it isnt yet and as you stare around, face scrunched almost angrily, you set sights of the pillows adorning the couch indoors. Thats what you need.

“Do you have any extra pillows and blankets?” - You turn to the two men, refocusing their attention on you and Jungkook perks up instantly, nodding

“I have a whole closet full in my room” - He’s immediately up and leading you back to it, theres no one in the hall or large living space that you can see so you aren’t sure who’s come home.

The said closet Jungkook was talking about is… heavenly. Eyes dilating to the max, you want to run and jump in the middle of the mountain of softness and fluff, you gulp hard, trying to refocus but it’s oh so tempting. Jungkook tells you to help yourself and oh you do. In seconds your sifting through each and every piece, filling your arms up with pillows of all kinds and blankets and then, turning around, hair a little askew because somehow you’d buried your head in the pile at some point, Jungkook laughs.

“Cute” - Is all he says and your so glad the pile you have covers near to your eyes because you flush right up to your ears, spinning on your foot and setting off back outside.

You only have one route in mind, one path to follow and honestly you couldnt really get distracted anyway because you’d drop the pile of softness or topple over so you hardly notice when Yoongi and Hoseok watch you from the kitchen, practically running back outside where Namjoon still is.

Namjoon stands up upon seeing your arms as to not get in your way and is aiming to move so you can begin but you dump the pile down and then push him back down too.

“I need a model to properly see” - You reason, urging him to stay there even if in reality you kind of just want him there to see whether he approves when you finish up…

Over the next few minutes you’ve placed countless pillows and blankets around, careful in your decisions on what types go where and such and when your finished, you spin to take it all in and realise the sun is beginning to set now, you’ve been here all day and now its actually dark. It makes you kind of sad, you don’t want this to end.

Namjoon catches on to the slight dulling of your scent and the way you look out almost longingly and sits up, you speak before he can say anything.

“I should probably get back now, the sun will set soon”

“You haven’t even had a chance to use the balcony you made so pretty”

“You can use it for me”

“I think you should stay for the sunset, it’s your favourite” - Namjoon tells you, you can hear that there is room for you to say no but he doesn’t want you too, and neither do you. But… You’ve never told him that this time of day is your favourite, never explicitly…

“I can drive you home whenever you want to go Y/n, you don’t have to rush” - Hoseok appears at the door and tells you and you jump, not having realised he was even back let alone basically right next to you.

“Just… a little longer?” - You say, almost asking and the two men nod, smiling and then the other two appear, Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Wah, look at it out here” - Hoseok gushes, looking over every detail, you wish it was a little darker actually so you could turn on the lights

The four men pour out compliments on your decorating until your beet red. Then they vow to make good use of it, all spreading out, Yoongi settles in the leather chair, the other three easily find their own spaces on the couch and then you are pulled down between Namjoon and Hoseok, a good amount of room on either side of you.

The air is starting to get colder but the two beacons of heat besides you shield you from the chill. They all continue to gush for a while, then things begin to settle, Namjoon plays some of his music and the other three scroll mindlessly through their phones, Yoongi occasionally taking time off of his to just look out at the view.

Namjoon knows you don’t mind the silence, doesn’t have to look over too many times at you to know you’re enjoying just looking out and watching. Theres a permanent smile on your face, a warmth settled deep within you and slowly you slump more and more, sinking into one of the many pillows behind you and your legs pull up just a little, half-curling up where you are.

It’s so beautiful; this feels so right, so calm and the sun is setting so beautifully from here that you simply want to freeze time. You welcome the gentle breeze, hardly noticing when Hoseok pulls a blanket from behind him and drapes it over your legs. A peeled tangerine ended up infront of you at some point, nudged into your hand while Yoongi had one of his own across the balcony, you absentmindly nibbled at the segments, the orange of them is similar to the sky’s.

Your eyes feel heavy, mind feels so slow in the best way, the playlist on flitters through until you perk up a little, recognising Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’, briefly muttering something about how you love this song and someone, one of the alphas, mutter something back ‘of course you do’, endearing enough for you to slump even more.

Maybe you should just close your eyes for a few seconds, everything feels so warm when your usually cold and maybe closing your eyes will rid them of the heaviness, maybe…

The moment you quietly drift off, Hoseok is the first to feel it, your head slowly falling onto his arm and your body curling up more under the blanket over you, he can see you kneading it in your sleep and loosely, he drapes his arm around you, feeling you melt into his side.

Your gentle huffs of breath against his arm confirm that you’re asleep, your colder body soothed by his warmth, seeking it out as your hands reach to hold onto his arm too and his phone is long forgotten, just watching you now. No one wakes you, not yet, they let you rest, let you nuzzle further and further into Hoseok’s warmth and mildly nest in your sleep.

Hoseok tells them he’ll take you home in maybe an hour or two, lets you sleep for a little while longer. The gazes they all give you are full of warmth, full of care and adoration, admiring your every tendency even in your sleep. It’s almost as if you can feel their stares, hear their thoughts because in the silence that’s fallen over them, you purr, your lips curled up happily and it wrecks them. Oh it absolutely destroys them. Any doubt of their growing feelings towards you was lost in the soft breeze of the impending night, there while you napped so easily, so warm when you always find yourself so cold, a new kind of satisfaction.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter please let me know what you think of it, I try to get back to comments as soon as I see them!

My asks are open for comments, questions, character asks, feel free to send something 💖💖

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Mwah 💜💖

ཐི♡ཋྀ

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