#bts one shot part one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neopuppy · 2 months

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I’m Here To Save You (M)

pairing. alpha johnny x female omega reader

genre. traditional a/b/o AU, friends to lovers, mild angst, fluff, pwp, m/f, one shot

warnings. profanity, alpha/omega dynamics, mating ceremony, pack head Alpha Johnny, size difference, use of Alpha voice, dominant but soft Johnny. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 15k

now playing. pied piper//bts

smut warnings. unprotected rough sex, public sex- with audience, biting, breeding, knotting, etc

a/n. I am aware of Johnny’s actual tattoos, in case it needs to be said. my apologies for the floof🫤😑

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

By now you’d wish to have gotten the hang of climbing up a tree.

Hissing between your teeth as you pick at splinters cutting through your palm, you lean back into a more comfortable position against a large branch just in time to catch a glimpse of the group of Alphas marching out of the village for a hunt. It’d be another week condemned to the stables cleaning horse shit if any of them were to find you this deep in the woods again.

For the most part you’ve managed to sneak around unnoticed, only catching the attention of a few elders who realized you’d been missing most of the day as you passed by and smiled inconspicuously.

Sometimes you just need to be alone, get away from the pack’s rules and hierarchy, all the duties and mundane tasks implemented. Even if your motive to distance yourself these days has less to do with wanting to be alone and more with needing to get away from a certain somebody that can’t seem to leave you alone.

“You know,” a familiar voice cuts through the trees. Long legs and thick brown hair with golden bits emerging before you can see his face in the light. “The day my father finds you out here this far from the pack, I won’t have any way to protect your ass from the punishment you’ll undoubtedly face.”

“He hasn’t caught me.” You respond, sneering down at your friend arching his neck back with a hand over his eyes to shield the sun and squint up at you.

“Yet.” He states, snapping his fingers toward you with his free hand. “Get down from there.”

“No.”

“It’s not safe!” He hisses, peering back over his shoulder to ensure the Alphas have made it past the clearing already. “For someone like you to be up there.”

“Someone like me?” You spit, ripping a small tree branch free to hurl at his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean!”

He sighs, stepping back to dodge your weak attempt to hurt him. “Don’t make me come up there.”

“Go away.”

“No.” Setting his hands on his hips he motions toward the lake with his head. “Let’s go swimming, it’s a nice day and with the Alphas gone it’s pretty empty.”

“Don’t want to.” You sigh, leaning back on the thick part of the tree.

“Please? I already lied to Jaehyun to get out of hanging out with him today.” Reaching for the satchel laid on his hip, he pulls out a bottle antiseptic. “Bet your hands are really beat from scaling this ancient tree too. Come on, don’t make me beg to hang out with my best friend.”

Jaehyun’s your best friend. You want to snap back at him, huffing and frowning as you pick at a small splinter.

“The waters perfect right now..”

“Beg.” You say, peering down with a smile.

He chuckles, head shaking, pressing his hands against the tree. “Yeah? Should I get on my knees and cry? Would that make you come down?”

“Perhaps..”

“I said—“ with gritted teeth he grips onto the trunk of the tree firmly and shakes, adding kicks in-between. “Get down from there!”

“Johnny!” He’s stronger than you’d think from his gangly appearance, at least able to shake your position enough to clutch onto a large branch and curse as more bits of wood cut through your palm. “Stop it!”

“Are you coming down?!”

“Fine! You stupid neanderthal!”

“Nice one.” Catching his breath he moves back enough to grant you space to come down, reaching for your waist once you’re close enough to the ground. “I seriously hate when you sneak off without telling anyone.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You heave out of breath, swatting his hands away. Johnny’s persistent, grabbing a hold of your wrists and spinning you around to face him.

“‘No.” He mutters, tsking under his breath. “It’s a huge deal. Goddess look at your hands.” A frown takes over his features, kneeling down to empty his bag in search of tweezers. “I only carry these around because of you.”

“I’m fine.” You scoff, ignoring the sting shooting through your hands. “I’ll wash them out in the water.”

“And risk infection?” Standing back up, he grabs onto your wrist again, turning your palm to face him. “Have your mother blame me for allowing you to ruin your delicate soft skin?”

“And who’s to say I need your permission to do anything?” You scowl, attempting to free your hand from his grip that only tightens.

“You know she expects me to look out for you.” Ignoring your petulance, he raises your hand up to carefully dissect a splinter from your middle finger, gentle with each movement to not make this hurt more than it has to. “As future head Alpha I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” You snort sarcastically, rolling your eyes to avoid looking at the taller. “Pack Alpha this and that.”

“Right.” Johnny nods, dabbing a cloth drenched with antiseptic after each splinter removal. “This hatred towards Alphas, how exactly will that work and play out after I’ve presented?”

“Won’t matter.” You shrug, foregoing your struggle to allow him to bandage your palm up.

“And why’s that?”

“My mother’s a Beta, my father’s an Alpha.” You say as if that’s enough of an answer.

Johnny’s gaze raises to yours, biting down on his lip. “Mmm.. right.”

Squinting back at him, you shove his shoulder, nodding in the direction of the lake. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”

Too late, not referring to sundown but to the real reason you’ve journeyed out to the woods more and more these days. It’s around the corner, ready to rear its ugly head and ruin the one friendship you can always count on. Ruin the genuine care and love that’s formed between the two of you over the years.

“Loser has to clean out the pups dirty diaper can this week!” He shouts, running past you toward the lake.

“Johnny!” You whine, losing your breath to chase after him and grab onto the back of his shirt. “That’s not fair!”

“Hey!” He growls playfully, spinning around to grip around your waist as you tug on his collar and stretch the material out. “Let go!”

“You’re a cheater!” You hiss, aiming for his chest to punch lightly. “Be fair!”

“Fine.” He laughs, releasing you to drop his satchel and tug his shirt off. “3 laps.” Pointing from one end of the lake to the other he motions between the two of you, knowing you can kick his ass at swimming anyday. “Me and you.”

“Deal.” Shoving down your hoodie and shorts, you barrel into his side and run past him to cannonball onto the water first. “Loser!”

“Hey!” Johnny jumps out of his shorts, pouncing in after you, arms paddling rapidly to race after you. “What’s fair about this!”

“Me winning!”

You’re out of breath by the time you finish the last lap and bend over belly flat onto the rocks lining the lake. Johnny stops next to you shortly after, resting on his forearms as he mimics your position and swallows down air.

“Hey, I’m getting better at this.” He says breathlessly, stomach sucking in and out.

“Only because you’ve had an insane growth spurt..” you mumble, bracing your arms to shove out of the lake and move to the dry patch of grass nearby.

He takes a few more minutes to bask in the sun, skin glistening with golden rays streaming across his back and shoulders. The hours spent outside during summer really brightened up his complexion, painting his hair with light brassy streaks. It’s the same every year, as if the sun wants to be around him at all times, melting into his skin and soft brown eyes as he lifts his head and stretches.

“Yeah, dad measured me the other day.” He responds after a while, lifting his long torso to push up and out of the water and plop down by your side. “Grew another two inches..”

“Yeah, I can tell..” you mumble, looking away and rubbing at your arms.

“So, why don’t we ever talk about it?” He says quietly, picking at shards of grass by his hip. “He thinks I’ll present soon, like.. really soon.”

Instead of opening the door to what a conversation like this can lead to, you shrug and roll your neck back to crack. “Let’s head back before it starts getting dark.”

Johnny lets out a tired sigh, teeth gritted as he stands up and follows after you, grabbing your elbow. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

He’s silent for a moment, head tilted and analyzing your lack of expression before letting you go. “It could be years until we see eachot—“

“I don’t care, okay? Drop it.”

“How could you not care?!” He asks, eyes wild and bewildered. “Do you not care about me??”

“Of course I care about you!” You shout, tearing your arm away from him. “But this is inevitable, it’s your destiny!”

“And you?” He’s quick to cut you off, stepping closer. “What about you? Are you a part of that destiny? Because right now I really feel like you’re trying to push me away and forget my existence.”

If only it was that easy.

“There’s nothing more to be said Johnny.”

His gaze lowers seemingly disappointed, softly nodding, biting his bottom lip before a tremble can pass through. “Can I say something?”

No. Please don’t. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is.

“Fine.”

“Take care of yourself, for my sake? And please, stay close to the pack. Try to have some guilt in your conscience that your best friend can’t get a proper night of sleep while worrying about you running into a feral rogue or breaking a leg out there without anyone to find you.”

“Can you tell my friend that I’m not helpless and can very well fend for myself?” You retort, turning and stomping away back to the trail leading toward your pack's land.

Johnny huffs, shaking his head and gathering the clothes you both discarded, clutching your hoodie for a minute in thought. There’s barely a scent on it, a hint of your mother and father’s lingering, really nothing more than a light memory of the times he’s walked you back to your cabin. If not for the nice weather today he’d chase after you and tackle you down until you cover up, staggering behind instead to stuff your sweater up to his nose.

He shouldn’t, not even allowed to innocently scent you let alone do anything like this. His father would be so disappointed with him, always lecturing him about befriending a girl like you. Very stubborn and unruly, always disobeying the pack Omegas that only want what’s best for you.

But this could be his last chance to savor something from you for some time, because he’d never ask you to scent.. as if you’d ever let him. The smell left behind is barely enough to taste, most of the scent belonging to your Alpha father, smokey and musk. Relaxing against a tree trunk he sighs, clutching the material to his chest solemnly. As stubborn as you may be, he can’t help to think you’re hurting more than you’re willing to show.

You’d always been resilient toward him, avoiding him even after the first encounter you’d ever had.

The pack Alphas son that everyone admires and adores, all except you.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“Where’s Johnny?” You ask sheepishly, staggering nearby the head Alphas cabin too chicken to actually knock on the door for an answer. Things hadn’t ended on the best note yesterday, and typically by now your friend would have sought you out, probably dragged you to the canteen for a snack since you slept through breakfast again.

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun snickers, passing by with bags full of manure on his way to the stables. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” You ask, mildly panicked.

Jaehyun scoffs quietly, glancing around cautiously for head Alphas presence. “He presented.”

“What?!”

“Shh!” He hisses, grabbing your arm to drag you along with him and out of the pack leaders' close proximity. “How could you not know?! Last night, head Omega had to stay with the elders because Johnny’s rut hit.”

“Rut.. meaning—he’s..”

“Oh come on.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes, flicking your chin.” “You always knew, don’t you remember the first time we met?”

Of course you remember.

When you’re five years old, you get dropped off at the learning center for the first time. It’s not much, depending on the amount of Omegas vs Alphas amongst your pack. No more than 30 pups ranging in elementary age running around screaming.

That’s when you meet Jaehyun of the Jung lineage. He’s the first boy to ever make fun of you. Stuck to share a desk with him based on the proximity of your last names. Jaehyun prods your cheek with the end of his pencil. Asking you why they’re so round, adding a jab by showing off the deep indents on his own.

He follows you out to the field when the lead Omega instructor dismisses you for break. Skipping along your side boasting about how he’s already begun learning archery.

“My dads one of the strongest Alphas the pack has!” He gloats. Drawing an arm back to shoot an invisible arrow toward the forest that surrounds your village. “Says I’ll be just like him someday, better even!”

Squinting at him, you nod, lacking the same enthusiasm he has. Opting to search for a toy to occupy your free time, you browse through the crates piled together outside. A yo-yo could be fun, once you untangle the string another pup had evidently left to be discarded.

“Hey!” Jaehyun smacks the toy out of your hold. Pouting like a petulant upset baby. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Why did you do that?” A taller boy interrupts the two of you. Bending down to grab the yo-yo that’s rolled away, hitting the toe of his sneaker. He lifts it up with a bit of inspection, beginning to unravel the string.

“..oh..Johnny..” Jaehyun stammers. His once bratty tone falling into a hushed one lacking confidence. “I was just messing around.”

Johnny, as Jaehyun calls him, concentrates on straightening out the toys string. Winding it up with ease and gesturing for you to take it once he’s finished.

“Should be all good to use now.” He smiles brightly. Having to lean his neck down as he looks over your lost expression. With the corners of his lips dropping to a pronounced frown, he blares Jaehyun with a cold stare. “Don’t do that again okay? No future strong Alpha of our pack would behave in such a manner.”

Flitting you with a rushed look, he turns away. Meeting up with a few other pups who seemed closer to his age. Jaehyun grumbles at your side, crossing his arms over his chest. His small foot lifting to a stomp for added dramatics.

“Great, now he’s going to snitch on me to the Head Alpha. I wasn’t even doing anything bad!” Jaehyun cries out. Sucking on his bottom lip in thought. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nodding quietly, you loop the yo-yo’s thread around your index finger. Having to tighten it from where Johnny had left it.

Jaehyun continues to follow you around, quite talkative for a pup. Too talkative in comparison to you. Directing you to walk in any direction that wouldn’t bring you any closer to the boy that had clearly left him shook up.

“Do you know him?” You wonder. Glancing to where Johnny spikes a volleyball high above a net setup. The opposition weakened by a powerful collision meeting his chest.

“Pft, of course!” Jaehyun gawks, fitting you with widened eyes. “That’s Head Alpha’s firstborn son! You can’t be serious right? He’s most likely to lead our pack some day.”

The yo-yo zips up with speed, caught in your grip tightly, mewling over Jaehyun’s explanation. Cheers to your left pull you to catch sight of the pup who had helped you. Hoisted up off his feet by a group of others who cheered from a victorious outcome of whatever game they had been playing.

Johnny was destined to be an Alpha.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to hear the news that your best friend finally presented. If anything, you’re disappointed. You’d been too mean yesterday.. really for the last few weeks as if you could sense it coming.

“Since he’s presented, I’m sure we’ll be going next.” Jaehyun interrupts your inner turmoil, rubbing his chin. “Can feel my Alpha ready to break free any minute now.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, typically it’s somewhat of a domino effect. One Alpha presents and suddenly a slew of Omegas appear.. which triggers our Alphas.” He explains as if you’re clueless.

“Not that. I mean, I’m not going anywhere. Except to help in the kitchens along with the rest of the Betas.” You say surely, waving an arm out. “Maybe I’ll end up in the farms, wherever I get assigned to.”

Jaehyun laughs amused, eyebrows raised high. “Sweetie, you’re about as Omega as they come.”

Instead of letting the same comment you’ve heard most of your life get to you, you shrug it off and glance back toward the head Alphas cabin. “Will I get to see him again?”

Jaehyun hums. “Probably in a few weeks, you know.. when they start to separate us.”

Knowing you’d left things in a somewhat awkward place with your friend really dragged your heart through the mud, making your way back to the lake you’d been at just the day before full of regret that you’d been cutting him off and spending less time together. Perhaps deep down inside you knew the feelings you continued to stomp down into nothing consisted of a culmination of fear and anger. Anger because you don’t want to lose him, fear of what the future holds in store for you once you have inevitably presented. Fear that you will end up stuck with the Omegas until adulthood. Anger that you can’t seek Johnny to comfort your worries anymore.

Jaehyun was right, as everyone has always been about you. The domino effect took its toll on the pack, triggering heats and ruts alike until yours hit in the middle of the night and consumed you with the worst pain you’ve ever felt.

A pain of yearning and insatiable hunger, hunger that had one name written at the back of your tongue, attempting to swallow it down before your Omega could break free and shout his name out. Tears burned down your face as you fisted at your bedding and grinded your hips down, not even the strongest elixir of ancient herbs could quell your lust for the Alpha.

Johnny Johnny Johnny..

His name swirled through your mind, each memory and touch you ever shared, his hold on your waist and shoulders, the difference in size between you just this last year.

“Alpha..”

With 20 pack members presenting the council decided it’s time to move you onto your next step.

You pleaded and cried in your mother’s arms begging for her to do something to stop this, to let you stay with her somehow, someway. Realistically no amount of tears could stop the assimilation you all must face.

“It will be over before you know it my love.” She said sweetly, braiding your hair the night before you’re to move to the Omega quarters.

Won’t be over soon enough, you think, keeping your thoughts to yourself the more your eyes puff up. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight, knowing tomorrow changes everything. The days of being a young careless pup with lack of responsibility change now, cursed by your damn Omegan genetic chemistry. Because whether you accepted it or not, the chances of a Beta mating anything other than a Beta rarely ever led to the same sub-gender offspring. Even your mother always hinted and skirted around the idea of you presenting as an Omega, never an Alpha with your delicate soft nature, no matter how hard headed you may be.

“At least you will get to see your friends once more tomorrow.” She said as she tucked you in and kisses your forehead. “I’m sure they’re eager to congratulate you on presenting.”

Friends.

The only friend she’s ever even seen you with being the pack Alphas son. She knew very well how odd your relationship is, being that you don’t even come from one of the stronger lineages. Perhaps her prayers to the moon goddess to grant her daughter a prosperous future had been answered. Time would tell..

Sunlight entered your room right as your eyes were ready to fall shut after failed attempts of counting sheep to shut your mind off. Nothing could stop your incessant fear from escalating knowing what a new day would bring.

“We don’t want to be late, princess. It’s time.” Your father chirped happily from your bedroom door, gathering the bag you’d be taking with you later today.

No, of course you wouldn’t want to be late to the induction ceremony. Even with a stomach full of nerves as you made your way to the divided trails leading to sectioned off lands for Alphas and Omegas you tried to calm yourself, take deep breaths, fiddle with your hands until you had no choice but to ball them up in tight fists.

“My baby’s grown so much.” Your mother cuts the unbearable loud silence pounding in your head, smoothing loose tendrils away from your face. “You’ll surely make us proud in there, receive many merits and accolades from the elder Omegas.”

“I’ll do my best.” You say solemnly, leaning your cheek into her palm one last time. “I’ll miss you both so much.”

“Soon soon, angel. Everything will go by so fast, you’ll be back in no time.”

The ceremony to send you off lasted no longer than a few minutes after all goodbyes were said, staggering behind before making your way to catch up with the rest of the newly presented Omegas. You slowly turn to look over your shoulder, breath lodged in your throat when you find his gaze already on you.

“Johnny?” You mouth hopefully. He stands straight, stepping to the side of his group until you’re close enough to take in how much more he’s filled out in mere days. The once gangly long limbs now protrude with muscle, shoulders grown in width, and jawline sharpened with definition as baby fat disappears.

“Johnny.” You whisper, reaching a hand out for your best friend, now Alpha, to take a hold of. He visibly swallows, a tormented expression streaking across his face as he looks you over.

“I can’t.” He whispers back, blinking furiously. Tugging the straps of his bag on his shoulders tighter. “I can’t..”

He nods swiftly, turning his face away from you with a stiff twist of his neck to keep himself staring ahead. Pain scorches up your gut, burning the pathway leading to your heart as your hand falls limp by your hip and you sniffle back the onslaught of tears already rushing to the backs of your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He barely whispers before turning down the opposite path, leaving you with the last memory you’d hold onto for the next 5 years to come.

One last look caught yours before disappearing behind the fence meant to keep new Alpha and Omega apart.

Time. Only more time can make any difference now.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t wait until we integrate with the rest of the pack.”

“I can.” You say quietly, keeping your head low to not draw the attention of the lead Omegas walking around observing how well you’ve all begun to take on your roles. “I don’t dream of being mated.”

“Ah, well.” Minnie, the bubbly Omega you’ve come to know in your last year by no choice of your own smiles softly, tilting her head dreamily. “I can’t wait to be with my first pup, and finally know my mate. It’s all I can think about.”

Of course it is, you want to say, lowly humming and continuing to brush out the furs dropped off today. They carried all types of scents from the elders, council members, even faint traces of betas. Alpha furs are only to remain within the village grounds, nowhere near unmated Omegas.

“You really have no desire to mate?” Minnie continues to pester you, smile turning mischievous. “I bet I can change your mind.”

She seems more than up to no good judging by the way her lips tweak to one side before bouncing up onto the balls of her feet, pointing this and that way while hurriedly explaining something to one of the elder Omegas.

“Fine fine Minnie, take that one with you and be back on time to help in the kitchen.” She motions your way, cutting off the younger Omega before she talks her ear off.

She skips on her way back to you, bundling up a few of the furs you’ve been cleaning. “Told her we need to deep clean these to get the smell out.”

“They don’t sme—“

“Shh!” She rushes, grabbing a hold of your arm to hoist you up and drag you away from the group of Omegas working hard to brush out knots and stains. “You have to be quiet about this okay? I’ll get into so much trouble if the word about this gets back to the council.”

“What are you going on about?!” You grit, failing to shake her arms off. Leaving you with no choice but to follow along as she leads you past the riverbank.

“I’m telling you, there’s something special a few of the Omegas showed me a while ago.” She says excitedly, teeth on full display as she peers over her shoulder to ensure no one’s nearby. “Over here, these fences behind the leaders cabin.”

“We’re not supposed to go this far..” you say hesitantly, digging your heels into the dirt path to slow her down.

“It’s not prohibited.. but they haven’t renovated these parts in decades..” she explains, using extra strength to make you turn down the short hill that covers most of the fence. “They really should too.”

“Why? Doesn’t it just lead to the village?”

“Well, no..” he trails off, biting down on her lip deviously. “You have to promise not to say anything, alright?”

Sighing, you shrug and wrap around her pinky, unsure of what could possibly be so secretive about this area. She nods, pressing a finger to her lips as you step up to the area covered by old tree branches. “Don’t be loud.”

Releasing your arm, she reaches to move a few branches aside and motions for you to come closer. There behind the mess of greenery are two holes on the old tall wooden fence. You stop for a moment to glance back at her, nodding with her lips pursed for you to look through.

Nothing could have prepared you for what actually resides on the other side of the fence. More water that you didn’t know existed, the rest of the river that’s been cut off by this man-made fence constructed decades ago when the pack struggled to keep Alphas and Omegas consistently equal in numbers. The council decided it best to separate freshly presented pups into individual camps until they experienced their first heat or rut. Segregating the two sub-genders to manage future matings with annual runs. Their plan had been successful after balancing the scale, allowing for their pack to grow healthy and plentiful.

It’s been years since you’ve last seen an Alpha.. until now.

“Is..” you stutter, blinking rapidly. “Is that..”

“The Alphas.” She whispers near your ear, lightly tapping a fingertip against the fence. “They swim and clean off at this stream after their hunts, seems to be only the ones that are soon on their way out of the camp..”

Alphas, playfully shooting water at each other, laughing and rough housing after a morning hunt. They have baskets full of fish lined up near their weapons on the path, a few of them deeper in the water scrubbing their arms and chest clean with cloths.

“Our future mates could be here right now.” She beams, pushing her cheek against yours to steal a look. “Oh Goddess, it’s him..”

“Who?”

“Head Alphas son..” she murmurs off, eyes going lazy as she rests against your head for you to both get a look

Head Alphas son? But that would be..

How could you have not immediately noticed him, trudging out from the shallow end of the stream glistening under the daylight sun, shaking off the water cascading from his broad frame the closer he reaches toward the end.

It’s him, it has to be him. 10 inches taller than you remember, hair longer and framed around his much sharper and pronounced bone structure. The baby fat on his cheeks long gone, body built up from years of hunting. The pressure of having to be the strongest and most reputable Alpha evident in his intimidating stance alone.

“Johnny.” The name passes from your lips without realizing, widening Minnie’s eyes as she turns to look at you.

“You know him?”

Know him? He was the last member of your pack that you had contact with before joining the rest of the newly presented Omegas. Even sharing goodbyes with your own family before him. You knew he’d be an Alpha eventually, but you’d never considered how painful it would be to lose your best friend to the otherside.

The reality always loomed though. The pack Alphas first born son could never present as a Beta, Goddess forbid as an Omega.

“No.” You reply, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away. “We shouldn’t be here, it’s against pack law to be in contact with Alphas while unmated.”

“We aren’t contacting them, not really..” she smirks coyly, trapping your arm once more. “Just a little longer? They’ll be on their way eat soon.”

You shouldn’t, should stand your ground and put your foot down against this condemnable behavior.

But one more look can’t hurt much.

One more look just to be certain that it’s him, that it’s really your Johnny.

He’s changed so so much, nearly unrecognizable if you weren’t sure of his residency on the other side of this fence.

“He’s incredibly handsome, don’t you think?” Minnie disrupts the one on one conversation happening with yourself, looping an arm around your waist to bring you both closer to the holes. “Can you believe we’ll be in the same mating hunt as our next head Alpha?”

“What??” You practically shriek, covering your mouth and pulling away.

She looks at you half amused, in awe of your clueless nature. “It’s been five years silly, the elders have been discussing lowering our time inside these lands to ensure a strong Winter. The moon goddess predicts we will need many healthy pups due to the severity of climate change that’s recently taken place.”

“How do you know all of this?!”

She sighs, wagging a finger in your face. “You never pay attention during the morning lecture. They say we could be out of here as soon as the next red moon! That’s only a few weeks from now.”

A few WEEKS?!

“Judging by the look of these Alphas..” she hums flirtatiously, turning back to peep through the fence and suck a long breath in. “They’re certainly ready to hunt, and I’m ready to be chased.”

“The mating hunt, is it guaranteed that all who participate will be mated?” You ask full of worry, dragging fingers through your hair.

“Of course, that’s the point of all this!” She says, clicking her tongue. “If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were born yesterday.”

Stealing one more look, she sighs and bites her lip excitedly. “I’m so ready to be out of here.” Turning back to you she grabs your arm. “Let's get back before the elders catch on to us missing. Besides, we’ll be with our Alphas in no time.”

In no time. Too soon.

And as if to mock your worry the days tick by faster and faster, now very alert during your usual extra nap time in the morning. You listen to every word, biting at your nails by the third week as the elders rejoice that the forecast had been correct and the blood red moon will indeed rise in the next few days.

“Soon you will birth strong and powerful members to contribute to the pack.” They preached and flounced about full of excite. “Tomorrow we will introduce you back to the pack to prepare for the hunt. Not a hair or patch of dry skin shall appear on you! You must impress your potential Alpha suitors to desire and want to chase you.”

More thrilled than you could ever be about this, they began to distribute scent blockers around the hall. Instructing you all begin using them tonight to ensure no Alpha can trail you off scent. It has to be instinct and intuition to find your true mate.

Once you have presented, every pack Omega is expected to participate in the annual mating ceremony. Ensuring the packs healthy growth to avoid a desolate village.

Your biggest dread of presenting as an Omega subsided as you met your predator's gaze. Stalking around you with snapping teeth and no escape.

There was no way to predict the Alpha determined to mate you would end up being your best friend.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, sneaking a watery look at your mother. The reunion with your parents had been too fast, not enough time to plead your case and beg for them to find you another option. She smiles stiffly at you, securing the braids she put your hair in with ribbons.

“Sweety..” she says between clenched teeth, blinking furiously. “Do not embarrass us. It’s an honor that you’ve been summoned to participate in the mating hunt.”

An honor? Giving up your freedom and shred of independence you can barely cling onto for an Alpha? An Alpha that will breed and claim you like nothing more than a whore?

“What’s honorable about this, mother?”

She sighs, painting your cheeks with thin stripes of oil to illuminate your skin and make you more desirable for your possible mate. “I only wish I’d been given the chance you have to strengthen the pack. Omegas are the backbone of our livelihood, without you we’d go extinct faster than animals.”

Popping her mouth for you to mimic she applies a smudge of red tint to your lips, standing proudly after to take in your full appearance. “Without a scent to trail, the Alphas will really have to focus on using their other senses.. and you look ethereal. Always knew you’d grow up to be one of the prettiest in our pack, even if I worried about all those scars you’d come home with all the time.”

“What if I refuse?” You ask wearily, glancing around at the other Omegas being prepped for the hunt.

“You’ll be exiled.” Your mom says sternly, tight lipped as she grips your shoulders to look at her. “Think about your father and I, please. We barely got you back.”

A mixture of guilt and rancid vomit combines in your stomach the longer you stand around and wait for the Alphas to show up. The elders have been greeting each other, smugly smiling as if they’ve accomplished something by forcing young Omegas to hand over their lives and become breeding machines. They gather around and announce the next generation of Alphas to lead the pack. You can’t see their entrance from where you stay hidden with the rest of the Omegas participating, not allowed to see any of your potential mates. Only able to swallow down the throw up that rises up your throat as cheers and roars pound through the earth beneath your feet. Alphas praised for merely existing, for being the breadwinners of the pack that ensure longevity and protection.

Omegas are the real backbone, as your mother said, whether she meant it or simply wanted to shut you up and finish dolling you for essentially a stranger to ship off with.

“This is so thrilling.” Minnie pops up next to you, her lips a deep cherry, cheeks stung with the residue to make her skin glow. She looks radiant, lovely as ever, so ready to show off a bite on her beautiful long neck. “I want to be caught already.”

Nothing could compel you to agree, silently nodding to resist the incessant urge to gag. Judging by the giggles and squeals surrounding you, no one seems to share your sentiment. Why would they after years of being brainwashed to want this.

She takes your hand, squeezing and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “May the moon goddess bring you the best Alpha.”

“You too, Min..”

A whistle blows signaling you to line up and ready yourselves to run, everyone scrambles around excitedly, leaving you at the forefront as the elders explain the ‘rules’ again.

“You are not to ever remove your scent blockers, you are to hide once the Alphas begin their hunt. You are forbidden to leave the pack lands, and if you are not claimed you shall immediately report back to the Omega sector until the next red moon. Claimed Omegas are to come back with their Alpha mated. Only once paired off may you re-enter the pack.”

It’s due or die, whether or not you avoid an Alphas claim you’ll never be free from this restrictive life..

The second the horn sets off you run, feet pounding to the earth without a second thought. Heavy breathing and laughter fades away behind you, distancing yourself further and further away from where most of the Omegas will choose to hide, you imagine. The same trees you used to wander through catch your attention out ahead, furiously quickening your pace at the sound of another horn signaling that the Alphas are on the move.

The same forest you spent days hiding inside of is just right outside of your lands, against the rules, but you need to wait it out long enough. Once enough time has passed and the Alphas make their claims you can move back to your packs territory. No one has to know.

Not even the splinters clawing through the skin of your palms can slow you down, hoisting yourself up the largest tree you can find until you manage to get up high and let out a sigh of relief. The pounding in your heart refuses to settle even so, hissing as you wipe your hands off on your tunic and try to adjust your weight onto a thick branch. Even at this proximity you can hear howls and cries, sounds of pleasure ripping through the tears as Omegas go down, claimed and gnawed at by rabid Alphas.

Time goes by slowly as you sit still and listen, sucking at your wounded hands to ease the sting left behind. It’s nothing compared to the mix of pain swarming between moans. Deep guttural Alpha wails break through the dusk, shifting and breaking bones as they take their conquests and solidify their claim with a knot.

Only a few more hours until it dies down, you hope.. peering up at the clouds that dance around the red moon. Orange light sprays across the ground, illuminating clear paths for predator eyes to seek their prey. They’d never be able to find you up here, unless..

A loud huff snaps your neck toward the entrance of the forest, cracking tree branches and kicking rocks as the sound grows near.

Large, terrifyingly large, medium brown soft with light hints of gold, and eyes you’d recognize even if you suffered from amnesia. Those sharp sleek eyes that you’d never be able to forget no matter how much you try. Why would he come out here? Why did he have to come out here.

There’s only one reason. Snarling and puffing large breaths of air as he slowly paws through and approaches the largest tree, listening attentively for any movement. Sitting back on his hind legs, his gaze lands on you without sparing a second, squinting past the leaves you’ve shrouded yourself with. He barks, baring his teeth as trickles of saliva drip down his jowls.

Get down from there.

“Go away!” You hiss, grabbing onto a tree branch firmly as he nears and clambers up, scratching his claws along the trunk.

It’s been years and you still insist on giving me the biggest headache.

“I said go away Johnny!”

Get down. Immediately. Don’t make me climb up there.

“I’m not coming down! Now get away before another Alpha follows your trail and figures out that I’m hiding out here.” You grunt, fearfully looking out as another large wolf approaches.

You need to come down. Right now.

“You’re leading him right to me.” You whine, moving up another branch to hide yourself from the Alpha passing between the trees.

Johnny’s teeth snap, biting at the air as an Alpha with dark fur growls at him, leaping up on his hind legs he stands tall above him, shouting at the new presence to get lost.

This one's mine.

The dark furred Alpha hesitates for a bit, egging the lighter to get his nose in his face, snout digging into the others until he whimpers and backs away, slowly making his exit from the woods.

An enormous sense of relief lightens the tension weighing down your shoulders, leaning back on the tree until a sudden huge ruckus shoots you to sit up urgently.

The Alpha down below backs up and rams into the trunk repeatedly, growling and smashing his dome forward until you’re shouting.

“Johnny! Stop! Stop!”

GET DOWN. RIGHT NOW!

His Alpha sounds vicious, ripping through your mind, causing your Omega to cower and frightfully shiver. Biting down on your lip to contain a whimper, you nod and gingerly set your foot down to make your way down the tree.

“Please, don’t tell head Alpha about this.. he’ll have me condemned..” you plead, keeping your gaze to the floor to not have to look your old friend in the eye. Shame, embarrassment and fear runs rampant throughout your system, lighting goosebumps up your flesh.

No one is touching my mate.

“What?!” You nearly lunge back, falling down onto your ass as you crawl away without taking your eyes off of him. “Johnny! It’s me! You’re mistaken—“

Quiet. Omega.

Slowly trudging closer to you, he stops to sit. Stance big and strong towering above you.

Present.

“Johnny, I can’t do tha—“

The growl he lets out cracks a whimper from your throat, rustling the leaves throughout each surrounding tree, echoing loud enough for even birds to flock away out of fear.

“You don’t want this, not with me, remember me?” It seems futile to attempt conversation with an Alpha in wolf form, feeling defenseless and defeated as your back knocks against a rock and the Alpha leaves you with nowhere to run.

Present for your Alpha. I won’t ask again.

“I-I can’t, don’t ask that of me.” Bile rises up your chest, digging your fingers through clumps of dirt as the large wolf nuzzles your face and takes a deep inhale. “This is a mistake, has to be a mistake..”

Lights blind your vision, collapsing on the ground when his scent slams into you. A husk leather oud infiltrates your senses, strong and rich, immediately swirling between each crevice until your chest caves. The Alphas scent is the strongest you’ve ever felt, dominant, enrapturing, near drug-inducing. The scent of a powerful Alpha, more powerful than you’ve ever experienced. Too much for your secluded body and mind to handle atop of the raging fear beating from your chest.

The Alpha nudges your limp figure a few times, softly huffing and licking up your cheek. There’s no point in waiting it out, already gone for hours since the hunt began, he shifts back and hoists your lifeless body onto his arms, carrying you out of the woods with ease. The walk back to your lands can take about another hour, knowing his father will undoubtedly be waiting for his return with a proud smile as his son triumphantly strides back through with his future head Omega intact.

Exactly as he imagined it, his father stands tall and full of pride, the smile on his lips slowly sinking as he sees no sign of a mating mark. Confusion flows between the two Alphas as he comes to a stop and adjusts your limp weight in his arms.

“What is this son? Have you not mated?” He asks sternly, leaning in closer to inspect your naked throat.

“The Omega, she fainted before I could consummate..”

“Ah, I see. Drop her off at the infirmary and continue on your way back out. Many Alphas have already returned with their claimed mates. You need to be swift and hurry now.”

“This is my mate, father.” Johnny states loud and clear, cradling you closer to his chest. “She is the one my wolf has chosen.”

Clarity evades the head alphas features, scowling as he steps forward to whisper. “You dare to bring disgrace upon my name with this unmated weak Omega? What have I taught you?”

“No father, I do not wish to bring shame upon our lineage.”

The head Alpha snaps his fingers, ushering his main henchmen to cover up their surroundings. “Get the Omega back to your cabin. Do not bring her back without your markings.” He orders, rushing two of the elders to cut around the village to his son’s cabin. “I will not have you humiliate my name with your choice.”

Johnny nods without protest, following along with the elders that obscure your bodies behind veiled cloaks. At least in his cabin he can help you get proper rest and keep an eye on you.

“Get her inside.” One of the elders says in a hushed voice, covering the entrance to his cabin. “Listen to me my boy, if that Omega exits your sights without a mark, I don’t want to jump to conclusions of what your father may pull, but it won’t be pleasant.”

He nods assuredly, thanking the older Alpha for helping him before leading you to his furs to lay upon. At least this way you can become accustomed to his scent, enough to keep you stable even if it overwhelms you. He should have anticipated that you’d be difficult to deal with even now after all of this time apart. You’ve grown a lot, as has he, but clearly your disdain towards Alphas hasn’t changed much.

He wonders for a moment if he should have just walked away when Jaehyun showed up with intent to mate you. The thought alone makes his Alpha scream at the top of its lungs, clenching his fist and shaking his head to calm the rage building inside of him.

Anyone else mating you has never been an option, because Johnny always knew it had to be him. He always knew that it had to be you.

‘That sweaters a bit tight for you, don’t you think?’ His friend jeered, poking at the faded cotton material stretched over his much larger body.

Johnny ignored him, waving Jaehyun off before heading to the river to wash off, making a stop by the bathrooms nearby first. He’s kept your oversized sweater stuffed at the very bottom of his bag as he marched into the newly presented Alpha sector of your packs lands, heart beating from his chest as he stole one last look back and found your gaze peering over your shoulder practically begging to be saved.

He’d dreamt about it for years, what your scent would smell of, how you’d grow to be the most beautiful Omega, strong and regal by his side. Perfect to lead a pack by him in time.

In time you will see, even if you don’t have much left to spare.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

Air thick as molasses glides down your tongue, struggling to swallow as you sit up and break out into a fit of coughs. Everything’s too warm, incinerating you from inside out with each breath you take in. Grasping around yourself you find a wall behind you, choking on your next breath right as the Alpha enters and rushes over to you.

“Here, drink this.” He sits down fast, raising a cup of cooled tea to your lips, tipping it for you to drink from. The sensation of calming herbs flows through your chest, filling your senses from nose to taste, opening up your air passages to breath with ease. “Drink all of it.”

“What is that??” You cough, wiping at your lips and pushing the mug away.

“You fainted, healer Ryu said it can happen when Omegas aren’t accustomed to the scent of Alpha..” tilting his head to the side, he taps at a scent blocker stuck to his neck. “This should help, you’re in my cabin thought, my scent is pretty much everywhere..”

“What am I doing here?” You try to say clearly, choking on the spit lining your throat that's thickened up. “W-why did you bring me here?”

Johnny’s gaze darkens, dragging down your even toned neck, the expanse of your smooth delicate shoulders and your bare arms. “Because.” He stiffens, glaring at your throat. “I want you to be awake when I mate you.”

“Mate me?!?” Shooting up straight, you clutch the furs on top of your body tightly, half questioning if he undressed you to get you under here in the first place..

Sitting up, he nods and reaches to move your hair back causing you to flinch as his knuckles drag down your cheek. “Do you not remember me?”

He seems hesitant to ask, lips tugged down at the sides, grazing past your scent gland still masked by blockers.

“Of course I remember you!” Glowering, you grab his wrist and dig your fingernails in. “Now answer me! What am I doing here?!”

The sensation of your stubby nails clawing at his flesh has no effect, shrugging you away as he comes to stand and paces in front of the bed you sit on. “Did you hit your pretty little head falling down from one of those trees while trying to hide?” He asks in a snarky manner, placing hands on his hips to widen his size. “How many times are you expecting me to repeat myself?”

“You know I never fall.”

Johnny rights himself, standing tall above you. “And I know where you’d go to hide from a gang of Alphas seeking their prey.”

“You cheated.”

“I found you fairly, just in time too. Jaehyun was trailing my ass knowing I’d be looking for you. You’re lucky he knows better than to go up against me.”

Jaehyun. The other Alpha that Johnny had scared away.

“It’s not fair.. you left our territory—“

“And you should be grateful that I did.” He lunges toward you, slamming his fists down on the bed. “If anyone else had found you breaking the rules like that I’d never be able to save your ass.”

“I don’t need to be saved, especially not thanks to an Alpha.” You spit, cowering back against a wall.

“Watch your tongue little one. We aren’t pups anymore.”

Hard knocks shake through the cabin, pursuing your lips together to stop an insult from dicing its way through the Alphas flesh. Moving away, he peers back over his shoulder, motioning your way. “Don’t move, Omega.”

He disappears behind the door shutting, springing to your feet to scamper your way over when you hear deep voices murmur through.

“Have you done it?” You can recognize head Alphas domineering tone, judging from the way Johnny replies alone. He sounds immature, young and still innocent but still respectful.

“Not yet father.” He’s quiet, probably keeping his head down, too much shame to look his dad in the eye.

“I never expected this from you son.” Head Alpha sounds disappointed, drawing out a long sigh. “All of this over some Omega.”

“She’s more than that.”

“I do not care.” Shutting down his son quickly, head Alpha takes heavy steps, most likely pushing his chest out to instill intimidation.

“If you do not mate her by the end of today, I have no choice son. I will not allow your obsession with this inadequate Omega to tarnish the reputation I have helped you build. No one wants to follow orders from an Alpha that cannot even control his Omega. You will do what I see fit or I shall summon the council to order a public mating.” Head Alpha spits each word out like shards of glass, gashing through even your flesh from where you listen through the door. The thought of Johnny on the other side trying to keep up a strong facade pings through your chest, willing it away with your arms tightening around yourself.

He must be stoic, emotionless to his father’s rage, because he doesn’t reply, nothing but the sound of footsteps follow for the next few minutes.

Stepping back inside abruptly, he catches you off guard, leaping away from the door and rushing to hide your tear-filled eyes. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t stay in place.”

“You know me.” You mutter sarcastically, lips tugging down at the sides. “Public mating?”

Johnny sighs, starting to pace and run his hands through his long locks. “I assume you heard everything.”

“What was head Alpha talking about? Is he going to have me exiled?”

He scoffs, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. “As if I’d ever allow that.”

“You’d have to, you can’t go against your father.”

“I can’t?” Lifting a defined eyebrow at you, he steps forward to get in your face, neck craning lower. “What do you not understand? You are my mate. I would go against anyone for you, even my own damn blood.”

“I don’t understand, okay?!” You shout, frustrated, taking a step back nervously.

“I’ve always known.” Johnny cuts you off, following you with long strides until your back meets a wall. “You have too.”

“No.. Johnny..”

“Alpha.”

“No!” Lifting your hands, you press flat against his chest to put distance between your bodies. Useless as he doesn’t so much as budge, reaching for your waist as he bends in closer until his lips hover an inch away from yours.

“This stubborn act was endearing when we were kids, you know.” He laments, laughing under his breath. “It was cute and I may do whatever it takes to make you mine, but you will respect me as your mate.”

His tone lowers, near a rumble that has your Omega howling in pain, every signal warning for you to behave. “You’re not my mate.”

He snaps fast, growling deep in his chest, palms slamming down on the wall behind your head. “Do not disobey me.”

The Alphas voice cuts deep, rolling tremors down your limbs until your knees give and buckle, dropping your face between his chest as a pathetic whimper springs from your lips. You crumble at the fury, the Omega inside of you curling up into a ball in shame. How could you anger our mate enough to make him use his Alpha voice? It’s your fault, unleashing an onslaught of pain throughout your body the more you cower against him.

An exhausted sigh blows across the side of your face, standing up straight with arms wrapped around your waist he holds you close, nose dropping to your hair to take in a long inhale. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what overcame me just now..”

“I hate you.” You cry between chattering teeth, weakly hitting his chest. “How could you do that to me?”

“No you don’t.” Johnny’s eyes fall shut, dragging his nose against your crown. “I need you to listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and stressed over what my father said..”

Sniffling, you ease against him, looping an arm around his waist to regain your balance, and maybe comfort the emotionally wounded Omega whimpering inside of you to fix this. “Public mating?”

“Yes..” he hesitates for a minute, rubbing a soothing large hand up and down your back before pulling away to cup your face.”If the council agrees, I will be summoned to claim you before the pack Alphas..”

“What??”

Pursing his lips, he looks away, forehead wrinkling. “As their next head Alpha, I cannot risk dishonoring tradition..”

“What’s traditional about this?!” You speak up, pushing away again only to be kept in place by strong built arms.

“It’s not up to me anymore.”

“Then let me leave!” Hissing, you strike a balled up fist against his chest, lip trembling to contain your tears. “Johnny, please!”

“I can’t.” He says firmly, taking a hold of your shoulders to keep you still against the wall. “Tomorrow I will mate you, and if you try to run, I will never stop chasing after you.”

Silence falls between the two of you as he keeps you stuck in place with a look full of hunger. Eyes dancing between desire and passion. It’s enough to bite your tongue and hold back the whiplash of words your mind fights against your heart to shout at him.

“There’s no other way?” You ask brokenly, throat exhausted as if your Omega used your vocal chords to scream her murderous tears.

Shaking his head slowly, he leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There is no other way.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

There is no other way.

Because this is the only way to prove to the pack that you belong to Johnny. That the Alpha has truly thoroughly fucked and claimed you, that no one will ever question his position to lead this pack.

The council wastes no time on discourse, immediately proclaiming that a mating ritual shall take place today, and that the Omega set to be the next head by pack Alphas side will have a mark on her neck by the end of this day.

“Here I thought the hunt would be the highest honor, you’re lucky the council has been lenient enough to allow this.” Your mother’s fixing up your face once again, unable to remove the giant dumb smile from her face as she moves to brush your hair. “Ah, the moon goddess truly heard my wishes. Head Alphas son of all Alphas! What a blessing.”

Every single member of the pack seemed to question how and why you were chosen. Walking through the village to your parents cabin drew more attention to you than you’d ever experienced. Whispers floated through the air, backing the rumors that you couldn’t even handle the next head Alpha, that you’d passed out before he’d even had the chance to mate you.

‘Doesn’t make any sense why he’d even bother with her after that.’

‘Heard one of the Alphas over breakfast mention that they were close as pups. Head Alphas son probably imprinted on her years ago, none of us ever stood a chance against that type of bond.’

‘Seems unfair if you ask me, she’s not even grateful.’

They spoke so foul of you without knowing anything about you. To even dare question the innocent relationship you once had with Johnny. The friendship that you cherished and would sell your soul to have back. Everything’s different now, he’s different.

“I’m already dreaming of the pups you’ll have.” Your mother sighs happily, fluffing your hair to frame your face. “Johnny’s so handsome and strong, with his genes you will birth only strong pups.”

Pups.

Birth.

With Johnny.

Fear heightens in your stomach similar to a ticking time bomb, sensing your imminent doom as the elders come to escort you to the Alphas sector where the ritual will take place. They wear pleased smiles, cheerful as they drag you along and bring you to what can only come straight out of nightmares.

Alphas stagger around, eyeing you curiously as you’re brought to stand in the middle where a large lifted platform covered with cushions and furs has been set up. It’s worse than the hunt, multiple predatory eyes burn into your skin, gathering closer to get a good look at the flimsy garment doing a poor job of hiding your ample curves. Growls and grunts fly around you, trapping you with nowhere to go as they circle around and barricade you, shortening your breath the more imprisoned you begin to feel.

“J-Johnny?” You ask hesitantly, gaze stuck to your feet, too anxious at the thought of meeting eyes with any of the unknown Alphas around.

“I’m here.” A soft tone ripples up your spine, standing straight and pulling your shoulders back as he takes a hold of your elbow and turns you to face him. “Look at me.”

Slowly lifting your head up you see him, warm eyes and a soft smile intended to comfort you. He stands before you, moving in closer to wrap around your waist. “You’re nervous.”

Sniffling, you nod, embarrassed that every Alpha in the pack you’re meant to lead side by side with the one currently holding you tight will see you defiled for the very first time in mere minutes. “It’s just you and me right now, got that? Don’t even think about anything else. No one else exists, only us.”

As much as you wish to believe that to be true, your ears can’t tune out the whistles and jeers coming from every side, biting on your lip and shaking your head, you reach for the Alphas shoulders to hide your face in his chest. “Can’t.. they’re everywhere.”

“I said look at me Omega.” He speaks more sternly, not moving to force you, but waiting for your head to raise and return to his still lovingly warm gaze. “You will not take your eyes off of me, do you hear me? You’re mine, you are only to look at me.”

Without using his Alpha voice he still manages to make your chest tighten, stomach churning anxiously as you nod slowly and he bends closer until your foreheads are pressed together. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

A part of you wants to scream, consider running only to be tackled down by a militia of powerful Alphas, but the other part of you swoons, reminded of the days you craved nothing more than to be by Johnny’s side and ripped your own heart to pieces once you realized the inevitable fate you’d been dealt.

“…for how long, Alpha?” You ask, barely above a whisper, fluttering his eyes in surprise.

“Forever.” He whispers, nose brushing against yours. “I’d wait an eternity for you.”

“You’ll take care of me Alpha?” You question cautiously, lips barely grazing his plump pout. “Make me yours to protect?”

“Always have.” Johnny states, licking your upper lip with closed eyes. He blinks slowly, reaching to cup your cheeks and dip his mouth to yours. “And I always will.”

It may not be ideal nor how you ever allowed yourself to imagine, but as the Alphas lips meld to yours, the tension weighing on your back dissipates. Easing into his dominant touch, you fall into the kiss easily. Every worry and silent wishful hope lets out a sigh of relief throughout your body, dragging your arms up higher to cling around his neck and deepen the kiss.

This time your lips planted together unlocks what you never knew you needed. The Omega inside of you quells instantaneously, rolling around with what can only he a giant smile now that your Alpha finally seems satisfied. The two of you rejoice, drawing him in deeper to grant your tongue access inside the delicious cavern of his mouth. If only a kiss can ignite this much in you, you can only shake as you imagine what more your conjoined bodies can release.

“I’ve got you baby.” Johnny says softly against your lips, for your ears only. “No one else exists.” He repeats, calming the tremble rolling up and down your spine with tender pets. “Your first time?”

You nod, skin flushed with goosebumps as your nerves skyrocket and missile launch to the sky erupting each and every worry you’ve ever had. The Alphas never had to be concerned with any inexperience. Always taken care of with various concubines in preparation for the day they’d have to race for a mate. Johnny knew exactly what to do with you, how to use your body and pleasure himself, only heightening your anxiety.

“You trust me don’t you?” He continues to whisper, brushing against your now swollen lips. “Trust that your Alpha will make you feel good, you’ll always reach your pleasure first with me.”

“Can I trust you Alpha?” You ask for further affirmation, sliding your hands beneath the leather furs draped over his shoulders.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Without answering, you push the furs off, eyes going wide at the sight of ink carved onto his skin. Immediately you reach to run the tips of your fingers across the raised flesh, poked through with sterilized needles and squid ink, half scarred from the forced injury to create the permanent markings. “Is that?”

“You.”

It’s as if you’ve woken up in Johnny’s cabin once more, short of breath as you trace over the lithe wolf prowling along a tree branch between leaves. Large golden flecks stare back at you, running your touch over the leaves as the Omega tattooed on his skin almost watches your movements. “Me?”

“My Omega.”

Grasping your wrist he drags your hand higher to the path of flowers blooming open on his shoulder. “My Omega made of honeysuckle and snow coated grass. As sweet as Autumn and fierce as Winter.”

“Johnny..”

Nights of clenching your eyes shut, pretending to ignore the Alphas eyes appearing in your dreams, shove aside the warmth you sought out from the memory of his touch. Every night and day kept apart had taken more of a toll on both of you than either could have realized, desperate to be close as you sink into his chest and wrap around him with a tight hug. “Alpha.”

“I know.” The gentle tone he keeps with you could erase any fear, comforted by the scent that had been suffocating you. Taking deep long inhales you finally let him in, head hazy as the Alphas scent combines with yours. “Never take your eyes off of me Omega.”

He means it, tempted to use his Alpha voice to manipulate you to follow his orders. It’s hard enough to tune out the whispers and groans that surround you from the crowd gathered around as he begins to strip your flimsy tunic away and slowly takes in every inch of your exposed skin, quietly cursing under his breath. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.”

Every touch is soft, voice hushed for only your ears to pick up on, gaze lit up full of love that you can feel each time your eyes meet. Nerves prickle under the drag of his finger, softly gliding down your stomach to the tops of your thighs to part you open, swallowing down a loud deep breath. Embarrassment twitches your knees, wanting to slam them shut as the Alphas lowers to get a close up look and curls his biceps around your thighs. “The most perfect Omega, aren’t you pretty?”

Slick gushes between your folds, shaking from the tips of your fingers to your toes as your peer down between your thighs. Johnny’s eyes shoot up, lowering his thick lips to your center. The invitation of your warm glistening cunt is enough to have him groaning, unintentionally teasing the hood of flesh hiding your clit. Pouty pressed together lips flatten and kiss the bundle of nerves, lighting triggers up your calves and thighs for more slick to drip out onto the Alphas chin grazing across your awaiting entrance.

Given any other circumstance, including the one you could have ended up in, he would have had you present on all fours and fucked you like a proper Omega slut. Alpha urges roar for him to hurry it up, enough to worship your cunt. Ignoring his wolf's demands, he moves lower to kiss at your entrance, slurping up the sweet sticky syrupy slick for the direct source. Burying his nose in to snort your aroused scent this up close. He mouths sloppily at your hole, not even to get you off yet, but to finally have a taste of his dreams. A taste of what he could only imagine for years.

Nothing would ever be able to compare or come close to the heavenly taste of you.

“My Omega, so sweet. Taste so fucking sweet, pretty pretty girl.” His chins doused with your gleaming arousal when he decides to finally come up from air at the sound of your moans turning into impatient whines. Jerking against his mouth desperately, needing something inside. He can feel it, the frustration coming from both of your wolves, attacking you from inside out to mate mate mate.

The Alphas breath fans across your now sweaty neck, body heat rising at accelerated speed the more he teasingly tortured you. Licking up your scent gland, he drags a way to your ear, biting on the lobe softly. “My innocent Omega wants Alphas cock so badly? Rutting against me like some horny pup.”

And it’s true, without thought your thighs wrap around one of his long muscular legs, jamming your bare core up and down the flexed limb. Hair grazes your slick cunt, making a mess of wet down the Alphas thighs as your hips speed up chasing after a relief only he can fulfill.

“Alpha, I need to.. be closer.” Every and each bone in your body rattles, craving and needing to feel him inside of you. Johnny tenses, eyebrows wrinkling together as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to stop.

“You’re gonna give me a hard time with that pretty ass and pussy, aren’t you?” He says through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll fuck you, fuck you full of my pups. Keep you satisfied until all you know is how to take your Alphas cock. Is that what you want?”

Thick palms slide beneath your back, gliding lower to cup and squeeze your ass, encouraging your hips to push down on his thigh again and plead for more. Vigorous grinds of your hips force him to lodge his knees down, shifting the furs laid out beneath you. He grunts, rasping out breaths shakily. “Fuck baby, get it nice and wet for me. Keep doing it just like that.”

As if to warn you, he grips your ass roughly, jamming his hardened clothed length against your hip for you to really feel what you’re about to take. A heavy hot thick rod ruts from your lower belly to your hip, a thin garment separating your lower halves, bowing your spine up pathetically. “Alpha—that, please, please, g-give me!”

A round of groans sound around you, quickly reminding you of where you are, but not long enough before Johnny sits up between your thighs, bringing your hands to his hips.

“This what you want?” He asks damn near mockingly. Licking at his lips akin to a thirsty rabid wolf.

“Alpha—want, want it!”

Hisses, growls, harsh ragged breaths turn louder the more you whine, resisting your Omegas curious urge to glance around. Johnny cups your chin to keep you focused, sleek eyes melting your gaze. “What do you want? Say it clear for your Alpha.”

The size of him above you makes you feel so small, curling into yourself as he positions close between your thighs to jam his clothed size against your drenched cunt. Johnny trembles at the contact, having to sneak a look down as you soak through his light fabric cover up and the shape of his cockhead fully pokes through, pressing the tip to your swollen clit. “Want this?” He mutters, curling the fabric around his cock to slap down heavily between your thighs.

Jerking up in response you let out a howling scream, arms shooting out to grab his biceps. “Please please!”

“Say it!” He growls ferociously, slapping the heavy meat down with audible loud wet claps of skin hitting skin. The contact rushes blood down, chubbing your pussy up in preparation to squeeze the life out of your Alphas dick.

“Want your cock Alpha! Wan-want you to breed me, pup me!”

If only you had anything else on your mind other than the Alpha burying inside of you, you’d hear the uproar of feral cries set off around you. Each Alpha willing to sell their soul to be in Johnny’s position right now. They watch on drooling, snarling, rubbing themselves over their garments as your Alpha sits up proudly and strips his lower half free of the fabric. His thick cock bounces up, slapping loudly against the flat planes of his ripped stomach. The visual of Johnny’s chest rising and falling rapidly has slick pouring out of you obscenely, toes curling as you take in the full mass of him. Clenching up as small as you can as you envision what can only be compared to your forearm in size penetrating you.

“Alpha, s’too big..” you say wantonly, still wanting to feel him split you open. Still needy for your Alphas cock to break through your cervix and fatten your belly full of cum.

“I know, baby.” Laying down on you without resting his weight, his cock pressed against your stomach. The tip slotted a few inches above your navel as a preview of how deep he’ll be inside of you soon. Maneuvering his fingers between your thighs, he nips at your jaw, murmuring praises about how wet you are.

“It’s so loud, so warm.” Johnny sighs, sucking on your earlobe. “So slippery between my fingers.”

Tapping at your entrance, he nudges your thighs open further, gliding two fingers in past the ring of muscle that feels as if you’re trying to bite them right off of his hand. Cursing again, he sucks in a ragged breath, licking swirls along your ear. Thumb making way to your clit to loosen up the clamp your cunt has around his fingers. A few meticulous rubs and flicks combined with his hot mouth have you relaxing, shoulders laying flat as he begins to scissors inside of you.

“Feel that Omega? Your pretty tiny fucking pussy.” He grits, fingers beginning to jam in and out of you at heightened speed. “Feel so tight and warm around me, gripping me so good baby.”

Johnny’s nasty words make your mind spin, head thrown back watching the sky above you turn upside down. The sound of your gushing slick louder than anything, muting all but the guttural groans coming from your Alpha. Pleasure scorches throughout your body, reaching for his wrist with a trembling saliva covered bottom lip and watery eyes. “Please, enough. Alpha, I need it, need you.”

He hears you loud and clear, tongue toying with his lip for a moment before drawing free from your cunt. As much as he wants to make this easy for you, there’s no way. Both of you too insatiable and driven by your hunger to be one. To feel conjoined, even if you know it will hurt.

Slowly stroking his cock, he watches your pussy in a trance-like state. Stomach muscle twitching, taking sharp breaths as he rubs a smear of pre-cum around the tip. Dipping his fingers between your sensitive pussy lips again because he can’t help himself, too enthralled by the gush of slick that bubbles out messy and loud. It’s all for him, slowly collecting the wad of slick to coat his cock with like some type of silent apology for what he’s about to do to you.

The twitch your tiny little hole gives in response only makes him groan, setting the head right against your slit to admire the difference in size for a minute.

“Perfect.” Johnny whispers, rubbing his thumb down your clit to the outer rim of your cunt pulsing against his length. He can’t stop his hips from jerking, slowly thrusting to watch your muscle stretch, fighting back the much too large intrusion trying to invade and make a home for himself. The fat tip of his size throbs, pushing it in until he feels your hole snap around him, hissing and biting his lip. “Babies first time, just for me..”

It’s dizzying for him, almost too dizzying to hear your rushed intakes of air, to see your eyes clenched shut, fists balled up on your chest, and your teeth grinding to not scream. Johnny reaches for your forearms, pushing them down for leverage. Slowly he plunges in more, managing to get a few more inches in before pausing to take deep breaths. “You okay baby?”

Nodding furiously, you curse at him to continue. Distracting yourself from the pain by focusing on your breathing. You have to be good, prove yourself worthy, not only for your Alpha, but for the pack of onlookers. Determined to take him, you let out a moan and force your hips up into a swivel, further sliding his length inside.

A slew of curses spring from his lips in shock, reveling in the pressure and tightness enveloping half of his length. “Want it so badly, don’t you.” He says more to himself, moving to grab your hips and hold them down. “But you’ll do as I say.”

He pulls out, a lewd loud pop resounding as Johnny lifts his hips back enough to rub his length up and down. The fat tip of his size purposely nudging and bumping your swollen clit. Each drag against your sensitive pussy further ruining you, sobbing out loud without a care. The hold on your hips keeps you from moving, letting out a desperate shout as Johnny lays his palm flat on your stomach, taking his cock in hand to slap down on against your clit.

“Alpha! N-no!”

“Take it.” He groans, struck by the thick we s of slick that cling to his length with each heavy smack. Emitting pornographic squelching sounds for everyone of the Alphas he will lead someday to hear, to memorize, to know that they will never have a taste of you, let alone ever experience this again.

With a pleased smirk, the engorged tip of his length meets your entrance again. Pussy throbbing like a wounded animal as the Alpha finally presses in again, slowly breaching your hole to make you feel every overwhelming sensation all over again. The pain subsides as pleasure and desperation takes over, incessantly starving to feel him stuff you full. You sob, reaching out for something as he leans in to bracket your head with thick biceps. Finding solace in his shoulders, you claw at his smooth skin, arching up to bite down a scream into his muscle.

It’s heat inducing, arching against the Alpha to get him deeper inside of you. Long thick cock stretching you with each new inch added, too good once fully sheathed inside. You can’t stop whining, licking at Johnny’s smooth pronounced collarbone. Split open by the only one you’ve ever wanted, something about it swells your chest. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to feel even closer.

“Alpha, please—“ you start to wail, drooling on his neck, planting haphazard messy kisses.

“What are you begging for, huh?” He chokes out, moving to wrap around your shoulders in the same manner, knowing that your Omega needs to be close. That your heart needs to feel his beating against it. “You’re so tight for me baby. Gonna ruin that perfect pussy you have, make it mine.”

“Ugh!” Dropping your neck back, hot tears fill your eyes, raining down your cheeks as he begins to thrust in and out.

“All mine, my pretty gorgeous Omega.” He moans, fully pulling out only to ram back in and sending your back arching up with a shout. Johnny can’t slow down, chasing after your release to get to his. Falling into a rough rhythm, he thrusts hard enough to have you both sliding up with each ramming force of his hips. The clenches you give around his cock accompanied by drool coated moans only encouraging him to push in harder, make you taste his cock in the back of your throat from here.

“Alpha..”

“Yeah, what did I say baby? Keep those pretty eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me.” Clutching your neck, he presses your foreheads together. Cock drilling deep past your tight hole. It’s not completely without pain, snapping around the intrusion of his thick long girth. Johnny works hard to keep his own eyes open, consumed by the way your pouty lips fall apart with a moan, how your eyes roll up and back to him over and over again. “Opening up so so good for Alpha. Feel good baby?”

Gliding a hand between your bodies, he lowers closer to your chest, pushing his arm lower to rest the back of your head along the dip of his elbow. Fingers find their way to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with another thrust, easing more inches past your convulsing heat.

“Ahh—!” Incoherently you begin to nod, head spinning, thighs aching around his hips. The pinch to your clit shoots up your spine, lifting your butt up only to be slammed back down into place with another powerful thrust. Johnny curses, sucking at spit around his tongue as he lifts enough to watch you take the last inch of his cock again.

“Oh shit baby.” He croons, biting down on his lip at the sight of his cock completely disappearing inside of you like nothing. The way you take it only as an Omega can. It’s indescribable to feel your heat suck around him, the way your walls clamp on his size like wet firm kisses. Pangs of pleasure throb up his length, cockhead pressed to your cervix at this angle. “Can’t believe—“ the Alpha drags his slick coated fingers to your lips, pushing them down on your tongue, teeth gritting. “Can’t believe I’m inside of you.”

That awakens your lost mind, licking between his digits as he circles down into you and lets you truly feel how big he is. Each twist of his hips feels like a delicious new stretch, opening your cunt up to always be ready for your Alpha to fill you up. He sighs, smiling and pressing in to capture your lips. Cock thrumming inside of you letting you get used to the sheer size of him. Distracting you with wet and messy glides of his tongue, he continues to slur between sucks, drawing your tongue out with his suctioning lips.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy baby, best cunt ever.” Johnny sounds lost himself, lapping at the combination of your spit smearing between your chins. “Tight, so tight for your Alpha.”

All you can do is whine and agree between his overpowering kisses, failing to grab his tongue with yours. Johnny controls everything, the way you kiss, the way you fuck, the way your body reacts to him. Infiltrating your brain, lungs, heart, cunt, filling every empty hole inside of you with himself, staking claim to his Omega the way only a real Alpha can.

“Pl-please, Alpha, please,” you start to beg, throwing your limbless arms around his shoulders to weakly throw your hips into a circle. Turning desperate to really feel him, to really get fucked by your Alpha.

He fully lets go, tearing past his own resistance to fuck you full, hard and fast. Wet sounds clap around you, jostled by each punching thrust, swearing you can feel him as deep as your lungs from the way you gag on spit and choke on your breath. Weakly tapping at his shoulders you lose it, clamping on the Alphas size hard enough to make him stop for a moment. Johnny growl’s animalistically, pounding through the splash of slick threatening to push his size out from the force of your powerful orgasm. He keeps fucking you through it, looming large over your body going lifeless beneath him.

“Knot, g-gonna knot baby.” The veins lining his long throat pop out under sweat glistening flesh, dropping his nose to yours as his stomach convulses and he thrusts in all the way deep surely leaving your cervix bruised. “Fucking—-fu—ahh shit!”

It’s the most shattered he’s sounded, raspy and whiny, coming to a stop as the base of his length begins to expand. Swiping his lips against yours between panted breaths.

“S’too.. can’t.” You beg, lightly tapping his chest. It’s useless, both of you too strung out by the peak of your pleasure. The only option left is to wait it out and grit your teeth through the burn stretching against your hole.

Right as you feel every last inch of your body go limp, Johnny securely cups behind your neck, licking across the top row of his teeth practically salivating at the sight of your extended throat arched up so invitingly. The knot thrums against your walls, painful stretch burning as he adjusts to lower his chest to yours and whisper against your lips. “My Omega.”

The bite hurts initially, gnawing deep through the flesh covering your scent gland. Long canines dig through your veins, sucking at the blood that gushes past his bite. Memories of the first time you met the Alpha flash behind your eyes, weakly sinking your nails into his shoulders as tears rush from your eyes and everything he’s ever wanted to say to you flies around your mind. The days you spent together, the times he always let you win just to see you smile, and the frantic need to protect you. Pain washes away along with the tears rolling down your face, whimpering and clutching onto him as hard as you’re able to.

“Johnny..”

The pitiful sounds that come from his throat remind you of a distressed pup, lapping up your bite aggressively as guilt claws at his chest seeing you grow weaker beneath him.

“S’okay Alpha..” you mumble, sliding your hands up his neck to hold his cheeks. The difference in size seems more daunting now, stuck on his knot that hasn’t deflated one bit, the visual of your small hands thumbing his wet cheeks feels right. Feels as if you’ll never have to fend for yourself as each emotion and reassuring sense of devotion fills your head.

Johnny’s your Alpha, destined to lead, destined to be yours.

“Hurt you..” he barely whispers, thumb caressing the mark on your neck solemnly. Fighting between his pride and lust to prioritize what you could be going through. “Sorry..”

“No no,” tucking your chin, you capture his thumb to suckle on, head shaking softly. “Love you.”

The look that illuminates his features can only be described as one of love. Adoration and admiration, relief, lightly tipping the corners of his lips upward and releasing the tension pinching at his ears. “Love you, my mate.” He says proudly, knot gone down enough to fix your positions and lift you onto his lap. “Let's go home.”

Without allowing you time to look around, he holds onto your bottom, keeping you impaled in place with his knot as his thighs burn to stand, free hand petting the back of your head and easing your nose to rest against his scent gland, successfully masking your eyes from the Alphas that stand around drooling, hard cocks pulsing, desperate to have a piece of you for themselves. With a last look of warning at the group, he turns and takes the back trail back to his cabin, shushing your whines.

“Almost there baby.”

“We’re going home?” You ask drowsily, clinging onto his shoulders as if you fear the idea of falling, knowing the Alpha would never allow for such a thing.

“Our home.” He states, rounding a corner to the back entrance of his cabin to avoid allowing anyone else that may be roaming around to see you in this position. “You did such a good job for me back there pretty.”

“I did?” Warmth fills your stomach, brows knitting as your hips roll against him on their own to feel the Alphas half deflated knot push past your aching entrance. He hisses, cupping your ass firmly on the way to the bed you rested in yesterday, already soaked with your scent, weakening his knees as he lays you down and hovers above you, fist planted by your sides.

“So good for me, my perfect Omega.”

Reaching up for his shoulder, you trace the wolf gazing down at you once again, head tilted curiously. “Has it always been me? Really?”

Johnny’s eyebrows gather together furiously, nodding rapidly, clicking his tongue annoyed. “You know that it has.”

“It’s nice to hear.” You smile, biting on your lip.

“Yeah?” Lowering down, he thrusts the rest of his size in to fill you with every inch, knot gone down enough to shove his length in deep once again. “And me? I want to hear you say it.”

Damp strands of hair hang around your face, framing the Alphas sharp cheekbones, long eyes that stare down at you obsessively.

“It’s always been you.” You admit, arching up for a kiss.

Already knowing that is one thing, but hearing you say it strikes a nerve, growling from deep in his chest as he reaches to draw your hands above your head and teases your lips with barely there kisses.

“You’re mine.” Small pecks litter your top and bottom lip, lowering to your chin and jaw, trailing a pathway up to your ear and back as he continues to repeat mineminemine.

“Mine to have.” Another kiss.

“Mine to keep.” Another kiss.

“Mine to save.” Another kiss.

“And mine to ruin.” The last kiss steals your breath, bred full again by the next thrust, only held in place by his solid grip on your forearms.

The Alpha made good on his promise to take care of you, fucked and bred night after night to birth the strongest members of your pack.

Occasionally you’d find your way back to the forest, now with Johnny by your side helping you climb trees that you insisted on being able to do on your own.

“It’s nice up here.” He hums, laying back on the large part of the base with you on his chest, stroking up and down your spine soothingly.

“It’s nicer with you.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrow lifts, tapping your chin to look at him. “No more running away from me then?”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” You tease, pretending to bite his finger.

“That’s my girl.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

#johnny suh smut #johnny smut #johnny nct smut #nct johnny #nct 127 smut #kpop smut #neopuppy fics #nct smut #nct 127 au #nct 127 fanfiction #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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youryurigoddess · 27 days

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Gabriel’s (missing) cross

Let’s put everything we know about that spooky statue of the Archangel Gabriel in one thread to make the conversation about its possible meaning as a Good Omens 3 clue more structured. Starting off with the relevant part of the official commentary from X-Ray:

Douglas Mackinnon got one thing wrong in his part of the interview — Gabriel wasn’t carved by “some guy in Italy,” but a British sculptor and prop maker David Field working as a part of the team at 3DEye in London.

Technically speaking, it’s a gorgeous piece of hand-carved expanded polystyrene with a clay sculpted head on top of it — even if the Archangel’s smug likeness isn’t that pleasant to look at, all things considered. The scenic artists from 3DEye made it look like stone afterwards.

The body itself took ten days to sculpt and is a faithful copy of the famous statue on Ponte Sant'Angelo in Rome called Angel with the Cross by Ercole Ferrata. It stands on the inscription “Cuius principatus super humerum eius” (“Whose government shall be upon His shoulder”, Isaiah 9:16), and this quote makes much more sense for Gabriel than the cross in his hands. The usual iconography of the Archangel uses a trumpet or a white lily instead.

Ponte Sant'Angelo was originally used to expose the heads of those sentenced to death — each of the angelic statues on it carry Arma Christi, the Instruments of the Passion. Like the Second Coming, what seems to be a hopeful message to the Chosen Ones can also be a warning for the others.

The statue of Gabriel, first shown in full in the cemetery scene of the Good Omens 2 title sequence, reappears at the very end as a part of the bridge leading to the biggest Easter egg — at least according to Peter Anderson, the animator behind it — which is the lift in the background, implying how we’re getting closer towards the Second Coming. Notice how the cross broke down in half at some point between these two scenes!

And it disappears in the plot as well: Gabriel’s memory depicts it only from his point of view, with the camera deliberately moving slightly to the right and stopping at his eye level. The centered, establishing shots show the statue with empty hands as a bookend.

I believe that this cross is meant to serve as a foreshadowing, a reminder of the absolution of sins and eternal life through Christ’s sacrifice and Second Coming. We see it only through Gabriel and Aziraphale’s eyes — when Beelzebub looks at the statue, the cross is not there.

As seen in the BTS photos and videos, it’s not an editing error, but a deliberate positioning of the physical props on set. The cross was clearly meant to be a removable part of the statue and displayed in a specific way to convey a message to the audience.

The question remains: is it a reassurance, something to look forward to, or maybe rather a warning?

Not helpfully at all, the traditional use of angelic imagery in Christian cemeteries matches both interpretations.

#everything has a meaning #the good omens crew is unhinged #good omens props #archangel fucking gabriel #gabriel’s statue #good omens #good omens meta #yuri is doing her thing

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hellbornsworld · 5 months

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Jungkook Fanfic Recommendations(7)₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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☆ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 | Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook X Pastel!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

☆ Mugs & Kisses | Jungkook x Reader | Barista Au | Oneshot | @minisugakoobies

☆ simply meant to be | pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader | OneShot | @caelesjjk

☆ beside you | idol!jungkook x gf!reader | Oneshot | @nochukoo97

☆ Fragment of the Past | patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader | thriller & yandere au | Series | @ctrlsht

☆ burnout | basketball player!jungkook x student journalist!fem!reader | Yandere | @aikastales

☆ 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | Vampire! Jeon Jungkook X Human! (F) Reader | OneShot | @angllicjk

☆ angel in the marble | michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au | OneShot | @venusjeon

☆ love à trois | jungkook x fem!reader x jimin | Side: Jimin X Reader | @letjungcoook7

☆ you're losing me | jungkook x reader | Married Couple | @sparklingchim

☆ part time lover | investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader | Oneshot | @sketchguk

☆ STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME | Jungkook x fem!reader | Series | @hoseokieswrld

☆ cherry bomb | jungkook x fem reader | Oneshot | @retrievablememories

☆ your cursed thoughts | jungkook x reader | Halloween AU | Series | @smaubts

☆ UNWANTED | King/brother Jungkook × slave/older sister YN | @kangmoon27

☆ the seventh life | vampire!Jungkook x female!reader | @folkookie97

☆ champagne confetti | heartthrob!jk x fashion employee f!reader | @pennyellee

☆ Horizon | Angel!Jungkook x Reader | Two shot | @sokooks

☆ Whose idea was it, though? | Jungkook X Reader | @astayinwonderland

☆ First Prize | Boxer!Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @tsukisrants

☆ TERRITORIAL | yandere!Jungkook x Yandere Yn | Oneshot | @kangmoon27

☆ Movie Night | Jungkook x fem!reader | Yandere!JK X Reader | OneShot | @taevbears

☆ tethered. | emo!jk x reader | Series | @13lov

☆ gotcha | jungkook x reader | ChildhoodFriend Au | Oneshot | @whatifyoulivelikethat

☆ mate | alpha!jungkook x omega!reader | Series | @7deadlysinsfics

☆ 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Aged up!Jungkook X Younger!Reader | Series | @bonny-kookoo

☆ Slithered | Mafia Jungkook x Fem!Reader | Series | @bts-0t-7

☆ Self-Care Sunday | NailTech!Jungkook x Fem!Reader | One-Shot | @shina913

☆ animal farm. | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @joonberriess

☆ November Sun | Jungkook x reader | OneShot | @oddinary4bts

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Jungkook Recommendation Masterlist

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piedinthepiper · 5 months

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You owe me ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader

Summary: It’s your job to help people, but is he really suffering? At least it’s a case of the crazy and obsessive syndrome.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dub con, guilt tripping, description of murder and crime, mention of stalking, cursing, weapons (one singular gun), mention of male masturbation, descriptive smut, probably wrong use of psychological terms (oopsie)

Wc: 6.9k

A/n: This is my first post on my bts fic blog! If you like it please show your support! Don’t be a silent reader! My requests are open, share your ideas!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I am not a licensed psychologist! Everything related to psychology in this fic is off Google, do not use this to diagnose yourself or anyone else!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

He clutched the gun close to his chest. Hiding it under his pyjamas. His fathers words ringing in the back of his mind. “Your brother is too soft for this industry, but you son, you’re my perfect descendant.”

He walked into his family’s suite. It was dark, except for one light in the living room. His mother sat there head propped up on her hand reading a book.

“What are you doing up so late, baby?”

She asked, putting the book down in her lap and taking off her reading glasses. He looked over at the white sofa placed next to the large windows. His brother was sleeping there peacefully. Not aware of his presence.

“I let your brother sleep in the living room tonight. His nightmares have returned.”

She continued when he didn’t answer her. He slowly turned his eyes towards his mother again.

“Weak.”

He answered lowly. Her look turned concerned.

“Is something wrong, baby?

His eyes continued to stare at her. He didn’t move a muscle, not yet.

“You know I don’t like it when you look at me like that.”

She continued when he yet again didn’t answer. There was a sturdiness to her voice now. The kind of sturdiness mothers have before scolding you. He started smiling. Not in a sweet innocent way. Not in the way 11 year olds should. But in a sinister and dark way. His hand moved out of his pyjamas top. She looked at the object in his hand.

“Drop that gun right now, Jungkook!”

A scream. Three shots. And silence.

15 years later

“Your patient is here.”

Your assistant, Erin, said through the slightly ajar door to your office. You looked up from your lunch. Quickly glancing over at the stationary computer to check the time.

“I don’t have an appointment. Not in another thirty minutes.”

Erin looked back to the waiting room before slowly stepping inside the office. Closing the door quietly behind her. She walked closer to you.

“He’s been sitting here for an hour already. I told him his appointment wasn’t until 1 pm. He just said ‘I know’ and sat down.”

She hurriedly whispered afraid of whoever was sitting out there.

“Please, Erin. Don’t act like he’s crazy. Send him in, I’ll eat later.”

She gave you a look before holding up two fingers. The signal that the two of you created. Working as a psychologist you meet with all sorts of people. Even criminals. The signal signalised that she would call the police if you hit the button that called directly to the front desk.

“Stop it, there will be no need to call the police. He’s harmless.”

“If you say so.”

She shrugged and walked out the door. The next time it opened a familiar figure entered.

“Good afternoon, Doctor.”

“You’re early Mr. Jeon.”

You had been treating Jungkook Jeon for a little over a month now. And you had come to the conclusion that he had PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. After he had witnessed a series of murders and crimes during his childhood. He was vague about the past, but a few things came out here and there. You only knew about his absent father and that his brother and mother had both been killed. No description of how or when. Which is common at first. It’s hard to re-live your trauma.

“I’m sorry I disturbed your lunch. Just eat, I don’t mind.”

He said as he sat down in the white sofa across your desk. You gave him a small smile as you reached into your drawer.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll eat after our session.”

You said as you fished his file up and opened it on you desk. You quickly read your notes from the last session as you continued talking.

“How are you doing? Still having nightmares?”

You looked up from the file maintaining eye contact as he answered your question.

“Sometimes, but not as often as before. I dream of you instead now.”

His eyes never left yours as he bit his lip, playing with his piercing he had there. You nodded.

“How often do you dream about me? And what are the dreams about?”

You asked as you scribbled it down in your notes.

“Every now and then they occur. Especially after our sessions. Or after I read your books. You’re a good writer Dr. y/l/n.”

He started smiling. His smile wasn’t sweet, it was different from how he had smiled at you before.

“As for what they’re about, I don’t think you’d want to know, Doctor.”

You tried concealing your confusion at his last statement. Curiosity taking over you.

“Dreaming about people you frequently surround yourself with is not uncommon. If you don’t like to talk about it we don’t have to. I would just like to know if they’re good or bad dreams.”

He nodded, still not breaking his smile nor the eye contact.

“Oh they’re good, Doctor. Don’t worry.”

You smiled back at him.

“That’s good to know. I’m glad to hear your nightmares are slowly being changed with good dreams.”

It went silent for a moment as you wrote down the good news. When you looked up again he wasn’t looking at you anymore, and for some reason you felt relived. His eyes were big and doe like, and when they focused on you for too long you would sometimes feel uneasy. You wondered so what those eyes had experiences in the past.

“What about your sudden outbreaks, are you able to control your anger better?”

He focused on you again the second he heard your voice. His smile returned.

“Sort of, I’ve been letting out the aggression in the gym, after you adviced me to try to stay active. I’ve started boxing.”

You smiled and nodded, writing down boxing in your notes.

“That’s good to hear. It seems that you’re getting better Mr. Jeon, much b-“

“Jungkook, call me Jungkook.”

He interrupted. You stopped and looked at him for a second.

“And no, I’m not cured. I still need you.”

You slowly nodded.

“Well there is no cure for your diagnosis, it’s a matter of being at peace with living with it. But I can understand that you still have things you would want to talk about. Maybe you would like to open up to me about your past?”

The room grew quiet. His eyes now focused on his hands in his lap. His demeanour changed completely.

“I have told you about my past. If I didn’t you wouldn’t have been able to diagnose me in the first place.”

He answered with a bit of underlaying annoyance. You sighed. Something felt off, but you couldn’t figure out what.

“You have told me some parts yes. If you want to go more in detail you can, I’m not forcing you. As your psychologist I would advise talking about it with me. It could be nice to have an outsiders perspective.”

You said in a soft tone. Trying to get your point across at the same time as being gentle. You didn’t want him to feel pressured or as if he had to say anything. When he didn’t open his mouth you understood you crossed his personal line of what he feels fit for you to know. You spoke after almost a minute with silence.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to. You can think about-“

“You’re a smart one.”

He interrupted you again. His eyes raised to meet yours.

“That’s why I like you. You know to some extent what is going on inside my head. I could never do that. I never know what is going on inside your head. If you think I’m weak or even crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy nor weak. It’s not your job to know what is going on inside my head. But it is my job to know what’s going on inside yours.”

He nodded before patting the sofa seat beside him.

“Come here.”

He simply said. You don’t know why, but you had a bad feeling in your stomach. He was acting differently today, compared to other sessions. Either way you got up from your chair, knowing that doing what he said would get you an insight of what you wanted to know. You slowly walked around your desk and sat down in the small sofa next to him. You crossed your legs trying your best not to get too close to him, but he seemed to man spread even more. Making your thighs touch. You placed your notebook in your lap, ready to write down exactly what he told you. He took a hold of your wrist.

“You’re not writing this down, Doctor. I need your full attention.”

It was the first time he had touched you, beside the first time you met when you shook hands. It made you think that you usually never have any sort of physical contact with your patients. Maybe that’s exactly what they need. What he needs to open up to you. You put your notebook down, and continued holding his hand. He looked down at your hands intertwining. Your smooth small hand was a sharp contrast to his bigger tattooed one.

“Tell me whatever you feel comfortable with telling me.”

You said to get his attention back to reality. He went quiet for a few seconds.

“I grew up in a hotel. It was a nice hotel, four stars, good breakfast. My father was almost never home, I didn’t mind though. I had my mother and my brother there. It was perfect in the beginning.”

He stopped. You looked down at his hand, it was shaking. You started drawing small circles at the back of his hand. Trying to calm him down. He looked down at your hands again.

“One night when I was sleeping I was woken up by a loud bang. The door to our home was broken down. A man entered and started shooting. My brother was still sleeping on the sofa and died instantly. My mother reached her gun and shot the man in the shoulder.”

He looked into your eyes.

“But he shot her in the head.”

You nodded, looking down at the floor. You knew he was looking at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes in that moment.

“Did you find out who that man was? Why he would do such a thing.”

He went quiet again at your question. His grip on your hand tightened, as if what he was going to say would make you pull away.

“He was a mobster. Like my father. After the incident he trained me as the next leader of his group. I was 11.”

You looked at him. His childhood was worse than you thought, but he wasn’t saying all this as if it was a traumatic experience. It seemed like he was bragging about it. You would have to go through your notes and his file after work to see if there was something you were missing about him. You couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.

“Thank you for telling me.”

You smiled at him. He looked back at you with those big eyes. You looked at the watch on your wrist. The session was over.

“Look at the time.”

You were about to let go of his hand to get up from the sofa. But he grabbed you harder. Forcing you to sit still.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon. But our session is over-“

“I’ve told you to call me Jungkook.”

“Jungkook, I have other patients today as well. We can continue this next week.”

You tried to assure him. He still didn’t let go.

“I’ve never told anyone about this, and you decide to end the session this quickly?”

You grabbed his hand with your other hand as well.

“You know I usually don’t end sessions like this. But I can’t let my other patients wait. You’re free to sit in the waiting room for as long as you want to.”

He frowned at your comment, but relaxed his hand nonetheless. You got off the sofa and walked to your desk again. Before you could say anything else he got up from the sofa and hastily walked out the door. Slamming it shut behind him.

You had two more patients that day. You waved goodbye to your last patient of the day, a young girl named Olive Thomson who was suffering from severe anxiety, as she walked through the door. You got up from your chair and collected your things. You turned off the computer and the light. You made sure to lock the door as you always do. The only thing you had to do now was say goodbye to Erin by the front desk, and you could go home. You walked into the waiting room.

“Finally.”

You turned to find the owner of the voice, as it was clearly not Erin’s.

“Mr. Jeon what are you doing here?”

You asked as you looked at the man seated in one of the waiting chairs.

“I told him he had to leave, I promise.”

You heard Erin whisper behind you.

“You said I could sit here for as long as I wanted to, Doctor. And please, just call me Jungkook.”

He was clearly upset. You remembered your words from earlier, but you didn’t think he would spend almost four hours just sitting there.

“I did, you’re right. I’m leaving now, Erin will be here for another two hours. But after that we’re closed.”

He got up from the chair.

“I was waiting for you.”

He simply said.

“I’m sorry our session ended so brutally, but I promise we’ll talk about it next week.”

You said and patted his shoulder as you walked past him towards the exit.

“Goodbye, Erin!”

You said as you made your way outside. The wind was cold and you clutched your coat closer to you as you walked towards your car.

“The least you can do is eat with me.”

He had followed you outside. You turned to look at him.

“I’m not that hungry, I just want to go home.”

You was going to open your car door, but his hand suddenly blocked the door. You were about to cuss him out. Tired of his antics.

“You haven’t eaten all day, I hardly doubt that one bite you had for lunch filled you up.”

He sounded threatening, something he had started to do recently.

“I just want to hear your thoughts on what I said. Don’t you think you owe me that? Or do I have to wait a week and dread finding out your opinion of me?”

He was desperate, you could see it. What he was saying was true. He would walk around overthinking for the next week and his health could worsen. You had to take action according to your diagnosis.

“Ok, I’ll eat with you.”

The two of you were sitting at some restaurant. The lights were low and to everyone around you, the two of you looked like a couple on a date. This was obviously not something you would do with your patients, you like to keep things professional. Something about this whole situation felt anything but professional.

“Get whatever you want, my treat.”

He said deeply focused on the menu. You shook your head.

“No thank you, I can pay for my own food.”

You answered.

“I’m the one responsible for you not being able to eat your lunch right? You owe me this meeting and I owe you food. Two birds with one stone.”

You sighed when you didn’t have a rebuttal. The two of you ordered, and the silence grew more and more awkward.

“I’m sorry again, Mr. Jeon I’m-“

“Jungkook. Please y/n! Just call me Jungkook!”

He was clearly upset now. You were a bit taken aback from the sudden use of your first name. He had never called you by your first name before. And the feeling of the professionalism fading away became more apparent.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember your request.”

“Say it. Say my name.”

For some reason you didn’t feel like you had it in you. It felt so strange to call a patient by their name, the same way it felt weird to be called your name by a patient.

“Jungkook.”

You managed to get it out, but you couldn’t look him in the eye saying it. The food luckily came quickly, you were starving. Plus it saved you from whatever he was going to answer. You decided to take the lead. Wanting to stay on track for the actual reason you said yes to join him.

“You said your father was a mobster. Do you know if he’s still living that lifestyle? Do you have any contact with him?”

You asked after taking a big bite of your pasta. Jungkook swallowed before answering your question.

“My father is dead. He’s been dead for 7 years now.”

A question came to mind, but you didn’t know if you dared ask him. You remember he said his father trained him to the life of crime at a young age. For him to take over his fathers legacy. With his father gone he would be next in line to whatever group his father had built. He got the image. Tattoos, piercings, the black clothes. But you couldn’t imagine him being a mafia boss. Maybe it was some sort of stereotype that strong, tough men don’t go to the psychologist. But you were starting to rethink his intentions.

“You’re thinking about something.”

You looked up from your food. He was staring at you.

“Look at you, you do have the ability to understand my mind.”

You said lightheartedly. He chuckled.

“I think you’re brave. Not many people survive the kind of neglect and trauma you’ve experienced in your childhood.”

You said, trying to give him an answer for his entire life story. He nodded and suddenly reached for your hand across the table. You jumped, but didn’t remove your hand. You didn’t want to make a scene with this many people around.

“I’m fine, y/n. I think the only cure I need is you.”

His statement combined with his eyes staring into your soul, gave you chills down your back. Something was off about him. You had to ask. You just had to.

“When your father died, did you…?”

He smiled. The same sinister smile he smiled at you earlier that day.

“I did. I took over his legacy. Me and my father were actually great friends the years before he died. Not that I cared for him. I don’t think I’ve ever cared for anyone in my entire life.”

Another shot of chills froze your body at his statement. You had overlooked it this entire time. His calm demeanour, his tendency to physically violence, his intelligence and charisma and now his lack of empathy. He didn’t suffer from PTSD, he had been lying this entire time.

“At least not until I met you.”

He interrupted your thoughts. You pulled your hand out of his quickly. You took a deep breath trying to compose yourself.

“That’s nonsense. You must’ve cared for your mother.”

He shrugged.

“Not really, she wasn’t exactly the best mother.”

“You don’t really have those nightmares do you?”

You asked, looking at him. It took him a few seconds to answer. Probably contemplating if he should continue his lies or tell the truth.

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t really have a problem with your mother or brother dying either right?”

He let out a small laugh.

“I just told you.”

“Just answer me.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek and leaned forward onto the table.

“What is this? Are you trying to diagnose me, Doctor?”

He said mockingly.

“Answer me.”

You commanded. He sighed and started smiling at you again.

“Everyone has to die at some point. Doesn’t matter when or how.”

You nodded. Your instinct was true.

“You don’t have PTSD, you have ASPD.”

He licked his lips and cocked his head.

“And what does that mean, Doctor?”

“You’re a sociopath.”

He looked taken aback from your bluntness for a second. He probably wasn’t expecting you to crack his code.

“You’ve lied this entire time for your own personal gain. I must admit your acting was really good. But my question is, what do you want?”

He was quiet for a second. You knew he was fighting a war on the inside.

“I really underestimated you y/n. I knew you were smart, but personally I don’t think PhDs make a person smart by default. You’ve really proven yourself to me.”

“My efforts were not made to impress you. You think too highly of yourself Mr. Jeon.”

His gaze switched, you had aggravated him. Not only by calling him by his last name, but by attacking his self image.

“Why don’t you come home with me, we can continue our conversation there.”

You shook your head, and arranged the cutlery neatly by the side of your half empty plate.

“I do not go home with patients, and I definitely do not go home with mobsters. You have already challenged my professionalism by taking me out to eat.”

He smirked.

“What if I stop being your patient? In all honesty I don’t really need your advice, Doctor.”

You grabbed your bag and got up from your seat.

“In all honesty I think you do. We will continue this conversation in my office next week. Good night Mr. Jeon.”

With that you walked away from the table. Not looking back.

The next few days you were on edge. Constantly overthinking everything that had happened that day with Jungkook. You almost wanted to call in sick. Terrified of what would happen next. But regardless of that you had to continue working. You couldn’t let your other patients get affected by whatever was going on with you. You said goodbye to Mrs. Humphrey. An elderly woman that had fallen into depression after her husband had passed. Once the door closed you fetched your lunch out of your bag. You didn’t feel like eating, but you knew you had to. If not your energy would be drained at the end of the day. After the first bite you started hearing noises outside. Erin was almost yelling outside your door. You stood up, wanting to investigate what the commotion was. Before you could take one step the door swung open. And there he stood, your nightmare for the last couple of days.

“I told him you were busy, Dr. y/l/n! I told him he couldn’t enter!”

Erin said hopelessly behind him. He was soaking wet from the rain. His hair plastered itself to his forehead. And his black shirt did the same to his abdomen. He didn’t move, he was just staring at you with a furious look in his eyes.

“It’s fine, Erin. I’ll handle this.”

Erin looked at Jungkook worriedly before looking back to you. She held up two fingers. You nodded, and she left.

“Sit.”

You said, as you yourself sat down behind your desk. He closed the door behind him, but didn’t sit down. He continued to lure near the door.

“You interrupt my lunch again, I don’t want this to become a habit.”

“Please, spear me the bullshit.”

He said, and you went quiet. Wanting him to say whatever he came here for.

“How did you do it?”

He said after some time. You looked confused at him. Not understanding what he was referring to.

“Did what?”

You asked in almost a sharp tone. You were annoyed. He let out a small laugh, it almost sounded like a sneer.

“You’re cute when you’re angry with me.”

He started slowly walking towards you.

“But I need to know how you did it, y/n.”

He stopped once he reached the end of your desk. You looked up at him.

“What did I do?”

You ask again. He puts his palms on the table and lean closer to you. You don’t move, trying to prove to him and yourself that you’re not scared.

“You figured out a side of me I never understood I had. If I, the person that’s bearing this disease didn’t know. How come you knew?”

You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. He was clearly distressed. Maybe even more than what you had been for the last days. And for some reason it pleased you.

“I told you, this is what I do. This is my job.”

You could tell he was conflicted in what to do next. You could practically see the way the wheels were turning inside his head. But eventually he sat down.

“I studied the human mind for six years to be able to understand things not even you are aware of.”

He scowled at you as you talked to him in a harsh tone.

“I’ve done research, and I’ve written books about this, that you have read may I add. What made you think that I wasn’t capable?”

He didn’t answer. The two of you just stared at each other.

“This is not a session, I demand answers, Jungkook.”

His eyes lit up when he heard his name fall off your tongue.

“Like I said, I underestimated you.”

He answered short.

“You didn’t answer my other question.”

You stated. He looked confused at you.

“The question from the other night. What do you want?”

He started laughing. You did not find it funny, and watched him as his fit of laughter died down.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious! You’re telling me that you were able to diagnose me with some bullshit, while I was pretending to be something else. But you’re not able to see the fact that I want you.”

The room got quiet. For the first time in a long time you felt completely speechless. He moved to get up from the sofa, but stopped the second he saw you roll your chair further away from him. He could tell you were afraid now, there was no point in acting tough.

“Come here.”

He said with a smirk and patted his thigh this time. There was still fight in you though.

“You’re disgusting.”

You uttered. He sneered at your comment.

“You’ve exploited me for your own satisfaction this entire time.”

You looked strictly at him, as he sighed.

“What was I supposed to do? You’re constantly on my mind. Day and night. And it’s awful!”

“That’s called an obsession.”

“I know what it’s called!”

He bit back. You went quiet, waiting for him to give you more information.

“The only way I can get a break is after i come to the thought of you. It usually takes around three times until I’m too tired to think of you.”

You couldn’t hide your disgust from your facial expression anymore. Looking at him as if he was a rat on the street.

“And then I thought if that helps, the real deal would help even more.”

He got up from the sofa now. You stayed seated, your hand slowly moving across your desk towards the telephone.

“I need you, y/n.”

You broke eye contact and looked down to hit the right number for the front desk. Jungkook quickly understood what happened and pushed the stationary phone off the desk. It fell to the floor with a bang, breaking it on impact. You got up quickly, wanting to distance yourself from him.

“How did you know? About the phone, about me. We never met before our sessions. Why? I don’t understand.”

You blurted out in pure stress of the situation. He smiled as he started walking towards the side of the desk. You walked the other way, wanting to keep the desk between the two of you. He chuckled.

“You’re cute when you’re confused too.”

You continued walking backwards. Trying to keep as much distance from him, while he tries to close it.

“I’ve followed you for a long time, baby. A very long time.”

The two of you had walked an entire round around the desk now. He jumped down onto the sofa again. His hand gracing the sofa cushions beside him.

“Do you want to know the full story?”

You knew what he was hinting at. Your entire body was screaming not to get anywhere near him. But you needed to know. He didn’t have anything to hold back now, you were certain he would tell you the truth. So you walked towards the sofa, carefully sitting down beside him. You took a second to compose yourself before looking at him. Signalising that’s you were ready. He smiled.

“I have known you since we both were children. Your father was my brothers shrink. He´s the one that had PTSD. I saw you for the first time in the hotel lobby after your father had finished his session with my brother. You were maybe 6 and sat there for so long, waiting for your father to return. When I saw you, I knew we were meant to be. We were soulmates. And for the first time in my life I felt something for someone.”

He grabbed your hand. You quickly out of reflex tried to wiggle yourself out of his grip. He tugged your hand harshly towards him and your entire upper body followed. Without your hand to catch you, you fell straight into his chest. His other hand sneaked around your waist as you composed yourself.

“Let me go.”

You said annoyed, placing your hand on his chest to keep a distance.

“If you want to hear the rest, you have to play by my rules, baby.”

His eyes focused on your lips as he whispered to you. You shook your head.

“I don’t need to know the rest. I can make out the sob story on my own. Boy falls in love, boy doesn’t get girl.”

He shook his head and let go of your waist. You quickly sat back up, brushing off imaginary dust from your lap.

“You should show me some respect.”

He said with a serious tone. You rolled your eyes and crossed your eyebrows.

“I’m not scared of you.”

He chuckled at your comment, placing his hand around the back of the sofa.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me either. I just think that you should show the man you owe your life to some respect.”

He touched your shoulder, drawing small circles on your jumper.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

He smirked.

“Oh, but you do. I made you the person you are today. Without me you wouldn’t be here.”

You sighed tiredly at him.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You got up from your seat and walked back to your desk. Starting to pack up your stuff. You were so done with him. He needed help, but you would no longer treat him. You decided as much.

“I need to get out of here, if you’re not gone when I’m back I’ll call the police.”

You put your bag over your shoulder, ready to walk away.

“How did you get into Yale, Doctor?”

He asked out of the blue. You stopped in your tracks.

“What? Why?”

He shrugged.

“Just seems so weird that someone with your grades would be able to attend any Ivy League school. Don’t you agree?”

You went quiet. Not knowing where he wanted this conversation to go.

“And don’t you think it’s weird how you always got A’s even when you were out partying instead of studying?”

You thought back to the years when you were studying. You originally did only apply to Yale just because your father went there. You didn’t think you actually was going to make it, because your grades were mediocre.

“What are you saying?”

“You have no idea how many people I had to blackmail to get you there. How many men I had follow you constantly. How many professors I had to bribe to make them give you a good grade. I’ve spent millions on you, y/n!”

Your mind was racing. You didn’t understand anything. Was your entire life a lie?

“I have to give it to you. Your first book made it without my help. But when you came out with your second book, and it wasn’t a success right away. I bought almost half the copies and payed a hefty amount of money to make it a New York Times best seller.”

You dropped your bag in awe. What he was saying made a lot of sense. You started rethinking every significant moment in your life. Wondering if he was behind it all. He got up from his seat and started moving towards you. But this time you didn’t step back. You let him come close to you.

“I’ve done so much for you, baby. Why are you so ungrateful?”

You looked up at him. He was now standing right in front of you. So close that you could almost feel his breath on your skin.

“I didn’t ask you to do any of this. You can’t keep me in debt for something I-“

You struggled with continuing the sentence. The reality of his words hit you, and your tears threatened to spill.

“It’s ok, baby. I’m not asking for much, considering what I’ve given you.”

He whispered calmly. His hands found your waist. He took one step closer to you and placed his forehead against yours.

“All I want is you, right here on this sofa, showing me how grateful you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tears in anymore, letting them slowly drip down your cheeks. One of his hands abandoned your waist to wipe away the hot tears on your cheek. You looked into his eyes as he continued to hold your face.

“If I do it, will you leave me alone?”

His eyes focus on your lips and how close you were. He had never been this close to you.

“I can never leave you. You’re my soulmate.”

He simply answered. You looked down at the floor.

“Jungkook, you’re delusional. You have to stop.”

“How can I stop? Huh? You’re the only one that matters in my life!”

You continued looking at the floor, even when he pushed himself off you in his fit of rage.

“I fucking love you!”

You shook your head, looking up at him this time.

“You don’t love me! You don’t even know me! You’ve created this illusion in your head that we are meant to be, but we’re not!”

You yelled back at him angrily.

“You’ve interfered in my life when I didn’t ask you to! You don’t have the right to do that!”

“And where would you be without me?”

He argued back.

“You act like you don’t care! But you know that without my help you wouldn’t be anything. You would’ve been a nobody.”

His words stung. What he was saying was the truth. The hard truth. You would have never made it to college. Never gotten this job. Never been a successful author. Never followed in your fathers footsteps and made him proud. You heard Jungkook sigh.

“I’m sorry baby, but it’s the truth.”

He said dejectedly. You took a deep breath. Realising what you had to do.

“I’ll do it.”

You simply said and met his eyes.

“I’ll have sex with you once, but after this I need you to stop.”

“Baby-“

“Listen to me! I’ll find you another psychologist. I want you to go to there and get help. When your treatment is over-“

You stopped for a second. Contemplating if you wanted to commit to the promise you were about to make.

“I’ll meet you again. To talk. I can’t promise you more than that.”

His eyes lit up and he swiftly lifted you in a hug. Letting out small sounds of excitement and shaking you around a little. You couldn’t help but smile at his boyish action. After a moment he put you down again, but continued to hold your waist.

“I’ll do whatever you say, baby. I’ll do anything for you.”

Your hands found his strong chest. You kept the eye contact, but your eyes couldn’t help but flick down to his lips for a split second. And that’s all he needed to kiss you. It started slow, but quickly got hotter. Your hands slid around his neck, unconsciously pulling him deeper into the kiss. He stepped backwards. You were taken aback by the sudden movement, but followed his lead. He guided the two of you to the sofa. The same sofa he had sat in every time he came to your sessions. He broke the kiss to jump down on the sofa. He looked up at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. He had been waiting for this for many years, and finally he had you. He reached out for you as you straddled his lap, feeling his already hard cock between the fabric of your trousers. His hands moved down to your ass. Grabbing it the second he had a chance, and letting out a satisfied groan. You reached down to the hem of your top and pulled it off.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

He said with half lidded eyes as he watched your bare skin. You smirked at his comment and reached for his shirt as well. He lifted his back off the sofa to help you get it off. Once it was off you started examining his tattoos. Tracing his arm with your finger all the way up to his shoulder. You stopped once you saw the little circular scar. Your entire body froze as you remembered his words from your last session. “My mother reached her gun and shot the man in the shoulder. But he shot her in the head.”. He looked at you confused for a second, before he looked at his shoulder where your eyes were glued. He understood what you were thinking.

“You killed your family.”

You said and looked back at him. He was already shaking his head.

“The man was you. You killed them.”

You tried to get up from his lap, suddenly scared of the killer you were straddling. But he held you down with a strong grip.

“Baby calm down, let me explain.”

You continued to struggle. Not listening to his words.

“Y/n!”

He suddenly screamed. Getting your attention. He sighed.

“I didn’t kill them.”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

You started struggling again, now hitting his chest as well. He quickly flipped the two of you. Pushing you down onto the sofa with his own body weight. Holding your wrists harshly.

“So what if I killed them? It doesn’t take away from the fact that you still owe me this!”

He looked dangerous on top of you like that. A single tear fell down the side of your cheek. He was right yet again. He kissed you tenderly. It was a sharp contrast to the tone in his voice.

“You still owe me your body.”

He started kissing down your neck. Eagerly taking one of your boobs in his hand. His crotch grinded against you for a second before you heard him curse under his breath.

“I’ll have to taste you another time. I can’t fucking wait any longer to be inside you.”

He started working on your jeans. Ripping them off in a hasty speed together with your panties. He quickly loosened his belt and repeated the action on himself. His cock sprung free, but you weren’t able to look at it for more than a second before he lifted your legs over his shoulders and pushed into you. The two of you moaned in unison. He was big, but he took little to no time for you to adjust, as he started thrusting into you with brutal force.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He moaned, stopping his motion to spit on your pussy. Using it as lubricant. He continued quickly after. Moans and heavy breathing filled your office as the two of you strived to reach your orgasms. He reached down and started rubbing your clit. Almost overstimulating you.

“I’ve waited for this for so long, baby. You feel better than I ever imagined.”

You felt a familiar knot building in your lower stomach. The rapid speed of his hands and the stretching of his cock making you come closer to release quicker than ever.

“I need to come inside you. I need to fill you up, baby.”

You nodded. Not knowing or caring what you said yes to. You were already on cloud nine and needed him to continue whatever he was doing.

“Say my name.”

You understood he was close, and you were too.

“Jungkook!”

You moaned as your orgasm washed over you. You legs clenched around him, and your hands found his arms. Digging your nails into his skin. He came the second he heard his name escape your mouth. He let you ride out your orgasm, before he fell on top of you. You felt his breath go back to normal as he nuzzled into your neck. The two of you laid there in serenity for a while. Just feeling each others heartbeats and listening to each others breathing.

He would do as you told him. He would go see someone. He would do whatever it took to have you like that again. He would never let you go. You owed him this after all.

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

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bbtsficrecs · 5 months

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BTS FIC RECS PART 4.1

Part 4.1 of some of my favourite BTS fanfics. Please do consider liking, reblogging and/or commenting on the fics you like. There are so many wonderful and amazing authors out there who do not get the recognition they deserve. So please send them lots of love to keep them going. If you're on here, then know I enjoyed every second of reading your story ♡

There will be two parts 4 as it's (sadly?) too long to be saved under one post. Stay tuned for part 5, joon recs will be added!

Please let me know if some of the links aren’t working. Happy reading!

⊹ Merry Kinkmas - part 02 Enemies to lovers au au | s | @bebejungkook ‣ You find out who your secret Santa was but his gift was a little too personal.

⊹ In Your Arms Tonight College au | s, f | @angelguk ‣ “I’m Team I Would Like To Be Fucked Tonight.” You stated, blatantly ignoring the stink eye he shot your way. “But clearly that’s not on our agenda. Have you ever seen Vampires Suck?”

⊹ Baecation Richboy!jk au | s, f | @1kook ‣ “Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart.

⊹ Act Of Falling Fuckboy!jk au | s, f , a | @kooktrash ‣ What was supposed to be a meaningless fling has turned into much more before you both realized you were falling. Now all you can do is hope that all the challenges you’ve faced are worth something.

⊹ Candles & Flames Royal AU | s, f, a | @taegularities ‣ He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

⊹ Distractions Practice couple au | s, f | @chryblossomjjk ‣ Jungkook agreed to let you do his makeup, but he can't stop getting distracted.

⊹ Naughty Boy Step siblings au | s | @scribblemetae ‣ Reader is older step sister that knows he has a crush on her/yandere tendencies & she teases him until one day he gives in.

⊹ When It Feels Right (read part 1 first) Divorce au | a, f | @7deadlysinsfics ‣ Although Jungkook is struggling with the decision he made months ago, he still thinks it was the best thing he could’ve done for your safety. But he isn’t doing well, and his friends are worried about him and how he’s choosing to deal with his feelings. Meanwhile, you’re now living with your brother, his wife, and their ten-month-old daughter, who has helped bring some light into your life. Just as you decide to tell Jungkook the truth about your pregnancy, he appears at your brother’s house with a truth of his own.

⊹ When She Loved Me Terminally Ill au | s, f, a | @jungkookstatts ‣ How does one live when life is bound to end?

⊹ your step brother fucking you in front of your parents Step siblings au | s | @aris-ink

⊹ Don't Blame Me (on-going) Single Dad au | s, f, a | @thvhoe ‣ Jungkook is known for his good looks and is often described by your friends as "daddy material." Funny enough, he actually was a daddy. The daddy of the baby girl you babysit every Saturday. Working as a nanny for the world's grumpiest single dad should have been easy, but you can't keep your eyes off him. He's handsome, a little arrogant, with broad shoulders and strong tattooed arms. And when he decides he can't keep his hands off of you. Who are you to resist?

⊹ Rolling Stone Idol au | s, f , a | @kooktrash ‣ He was a rolling stone with no ties to anyone or any place and that’s how he and his fans liked it. Now he’s found you and it’s never been this hard to convince someone that he’ll stay. The problem is neither of you know what it means to express yourselves without reverting to sex as a form to end discussion. It causes all hell to break loose when Jungkook realized if he wants you to stay for him [with him] then he needs to show it to you too. Can Jungkook and Y/n get past their own growing doubts on if what they feel is real and work out a way to be together—especially considering Y/n wants nothing to do with the limelight?

⊹ The Ability To Fantom - part 02 (on-going) Brother’s best friend au | a, f | @hanniwrites ‣ You are shocked when your friends reveal their theory: Jungkook, your brother’s annoying best friend, has a crush on you. A bad one.

⊹ Torn Apart Infidelity au | s, a | @bethschamberoftales ‣ That one time when you caught your boyfriend cheating on you.

⊹ My Love Is Here (series) Unrequited love to requited | s, f, a | @solemnreads ‣ You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened.

⊹ I'll Stop Tomorrow Friends with benefits AU | s, a | @dreamyjoons ‣ You know it has to end.

⊹ Just A Taste Spring break AU | s, f | @cutechim ‣ “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like.”

⊹ Flat Tire Established relationship AU | s, f | @ppersonna ‣ How do you pass the time when you’re stuck on the side of the road with your boyfriend, with a flat tire?

⊹ One Mistake (on-going) Idol!Tae & Cheating AU | a | @vamours ‣ it’s been three years since you and Taehyung had started dating. recently, you’ve started to notice changes in taehyung’s behavior towards you. with your four years anniversary only a few weeks away, you’ve come to discover the truth.

⊹ Akrasia Strangers to? | s | @nitaescence ‣ Basically two strangers fucking in a crowded bus.

⊹ Stepdad Taehyung Step!father au | s | @aris-ink ‣ "He was not touching himself right beside you. No, that was not possible"

⊹ Rock Bottom Idol Jimin AU | s, f, a | @jkbabiey ‣ When, in a four-year marriage, you get to the point where you question its worth, you know that’s your rock bottom. How many I’m sorry’s will you handle? How many times are too many times?

⊹ What's Poppin Established relationship AU, | f, s | @joonberriess ‣ Yoongi being the type to buy you a chain cause if he’s pimped out, his girl gotta be too.

⊹ Foundation - Part 01, 02, 03 feat Yoongi Non-idol doctors AU | f , s, a | @hamsterclaw ‣ You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? Featuring Yoongi.

⊹ Looks so refreshed Idol AU | s | @kimnjss ‣ Friends with benefits is hard, but when he’s an international superstar… It’s much harder. So while you love his friends to death, spending the night holed up in his hotel room just sounds a lot more fun than a dinner party.

⊹ Friends (3TAN) Brother's best friend AU | f, s, a | @kithtaehyung ‣ The week you get with Yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call.

⊹ So it goes Friends with benefits (ish) AU | f , s | @prodagustd ‣ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it..

⊹ Marry me, Yoongi Established relationship AU | f, s | @spideyjimin ‣ When Yoongi decides to get married in vegas after all the fan’s comments on the vlives.

⊹ Amour Propre Established relationship AU | a | @randombtsprincessa ‣ Crumbling Relationship with one Min Yoongi

⊹ Blind Spot Established relationship AU | f, a | @randombtsprincessa ‣ Yoongi tries to win you back.

⊹Your Universe Rejection AU | f, a, s | @muniimyg ‣ Regretting rejecting oc, Min Yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again

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curryshesus · 6 months

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bts fics that give me life in a drought

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 2

didn't expect to make a part 2 so soon but seeing how much recognition the first one got, here we are! some of these contain a hearty amount of angst, and oh they're just simply divine :( once again, please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did!

➺ knife’s edge - by @readyplayerhobi

| jungkook x reader, jimin x reader | 141.8k

mafia au, fluff, angst, smut, violence, series

>> summary: "the jeon clan is family, built on blood and loyalty. it’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the clan, jeon jungkook. you would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?"

this fic absolutely BROKE ME. i was so conflicted all throughout and deadass went through all the 50 stages of grief. the angst was unparalleled. the fluff had me giggling like a madman cuz jk is an absolute sweetheart :( jimin is too :(( y/n is dumb and so is her situation :((( i cherish this fic sm

➺ novocaine - by @kinktae

| jimin x reader |

1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "going home was hard – painful even. but falling back in love with jimin, the boy you left behind? downright gut-wrenching."

➺ ghostin him- by @adonis-koo

| namjoon x reader (taehyung x reader) | 26k

angst, angst, as well as angst. comfort too dw, one-shot

>> summary: "life is nothing more than dull colors for you, your world shattered and laying in the shards of what once was rather than focusing on what is. that is until you meet kim namjoon, who is immediately taken by you without realizing you’re a girl with a whole lot of baggage, through tears and many sleepless nights you’re faced with a choice of hanging on with bleeding hands, or accepting what is, and letting go."

ohmygod the writing hello? the amount of soul, depth, and sheer utter beauty in missy's words are beyond me. had me sobbing every other line and my heart aching all throughout and boy was it worth it.

➺ take five - by @jiminrings

| yoongi x reader | 10k

angst, fluff, unrequited love, pinning

summary: "dr. min yoongi's a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand - oh and also, he's divorced."

➺ page turner - by @gukslut

| taehyung x reader | 13.6k

teacher!tae/ librarian!reader, fluff, smut, minor angst

summary: "corny romance and a zillion cheesy Romeo and Juliet quotes and references."

my tainted hopeless romantic heart ugh. they're so cute.

➺ bloom- by @hobidreams

| namjoon x reader | 20.7k

assassin!reader x florist!namjoon, smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff

>> summary: "family is who you kill for. who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom."

➺ counterfeit culture - by @ggukcangetit

| seokjin x reader | 29k

modern day au loosely based on jane austen’s pride & prejudice, e2l, fluff, smut, comedy

>>summary: “for as long as you can remember, you’ve always known right from wrong, good from bad, and woke from entitled/ignorant. but when you continue to cross paths with Kim Seokjin - the apparent antithesis of everything you believe in - certain walls begin to crumble. and over time, you come to realise that the world isn’t black and white, first impressions can be misleading, and that you are just as guilty as each person you’ve judged so harshly. realisation brings acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, acceptance can bring something more.”

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

| jungkook x reader | 22k

friends to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, comedy, angst

>> summary: "in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him."

➺ to hold a dragon's heart - by @softlyjiminie

| taehyung x reader | 19.1k

dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader, smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au

>> summary: "two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?"

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forlix · 7 months

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

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vivalasthedas · 2 years

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getting very close to the point of yeah these ymy doll bodies have a better range of motion, but they can’t hold a pose or balance for shit because the body itself is so light and cheap, so functionally that range of motion doesn’t exist. Compared to other bodies that cost only a few quid more, they are significantly worse, and the only thing they really have going for them is being cheap and coming in a better range of plastic colors.

#trying to pose a group shot #the pennys doll boy can pose well but he's a bt floppy but its not that bad #the one similar type body that calls itself a dod body is great #less range but its a substantial feeling body and holds a pose so well and iis very stable #i can put the nendo head wth the most hair that's heaviest on it and plonk it down and it poses and stands easily #vs the ymy body which just bends under any weight #and needs big fuck off shoes to stand #give them bgger feet or make them out of something that gives it more weight #and the knee joints just like fold like a wet paper towel #maybe i ust got unlucky but both the ymy bodies i have are pretty similar and they both suck #they are the extended ones though so maybe that plays a part maybe f they were the basic shorter ones it wouldn't be as bad #i dont want to tote around a doll stand in backpack #and the reason i like little dolls is the ability to jjust shove them in a bag and go #also this s why plunderlings are hands down still my favorites #big ass feet cause of the cartoony proportions and built solidly they can balance on one leg and hold thngs no trouble #this is a pointless rant #that comes from tryng to fucking pose this floppy fuckers for over an hour #i used to collect BJDs i am very used to dolls that are harder to pose but these are the worst #actual worst

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hanjsquokka · 2 months

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Caramel Macchiato - [ Kim Seungmin ]

🩷 SYNOPSIS : Seungmin hated the morning shift. He hated the way some people thought they could say whatever they wanted to him just because he wasn't able to hand them their scalding hot drink quick enough. You were an enigma of sorts the second he saw you walk in. And suddenly, the six hours he spent every day were too short.

GENRE : fluff, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : barista!seungmin × f!barista!reader

CONTENT WARNING : none

WORD COUNT : 2.5K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I honestly had a lot of fun writing this even though I'm not that satisfied with the ending. The title is inspired by BTS' song Coffee, which is one of my favorites (yes, I wrote it with Jungkook's voice in mind). Hope you enjoy <3 (part of valentines collab with @stayconnecteed )

The bristly cloth of a rag scratched his palms as Seungmin wiped down the counter. The morning rush died down, leaving behind a quiet lull in the coffee shop he was working in. He looked up at the clock. Five more hours until his shift ended. It had been nearly a week since the manager of the shop asked him to work the morning shift rather than the evening one because they were down an employee. Seungmin didn't want to. He really didn't. He hoped the blank stare would send a clear message — please go find someone else — but the man simply didn't understand that. Since the money for his vocal lessons were coming from the very paycheck the manager said he'd bump up, Seungmin reluctantly agreed.

The morning rush hour was a living nightmare. Annoyed and moody adults trying to get their daily dose of caffeine before they headed to their jobs they willingly applied to with a sour face, barking at whoever talked back to them until they've had a shot of expresso. Then they would get mad when he didn't make their coffee fast enough. He'd nearly bit his tongue off trying to hold back a sharp reply that would easily get him in trouble. Instead, he swallowed back the sentences and continued doing his work, trying his best to ignore them.

Seungmin didn't understand why those people were like that. Obviously he'd give them what they ordered for. Handling hot, steaming coffee was difficult. And even with two people on deck, the coffee shop was located in mid downtown — of course there would be a lot of people rushing in.

He was honestly about to give up and beg the manager to give him the evening shift instead, but that was when you walked into the shop. Wearing the same beige shirt with the coffee shop's logo printed onto the pocket. You greeted the manager with a bright smile, asking him how he was. You disappeared into the locker room beside the kitchen and came back with a brown apron in hand.

“Oh, hi?” You said as you approached Seungmin, a puzzled expression forming on your face. He mirrored the same, because who were you? And why did his heart stutter as you drew closer to him?

“Y/n, he's Seungmin. He's not new, don't worry. He used to be on the evening shift.” The manager told you and went into the kitchen, presumably to speak with the guy in there about how they ran out of croissants.

You looked relieved when the man told you Seungmin wasn't new. “Ah, sorry. I've had exams the whole week. I didn't know you were dealing with this alone.” You chuckled. “I apologize.”

Seungmin, for the first time in his life, found himself starstruck. Utterly starstruck by the person in front of him. His words betrayed him, so he simply nodded and turned away to clean the expresso machine before he could embarrass himself more.

He was dumbfounded. Because when had he ever been at a loss of words like that? The answer was never. He was witty and always had a snark reply waiting on the tip of his tongue when his friends made a joke.

It was just the two of you, working in silence. The other guy (was it Jeno?) had gone out to run an errand. There weren't that many customers, just the occasional one whom you greeted like they were old friends. You easily struck up a conversation with the person in front of you. It was like Seungmin was witnessing witchcraft. Not only were you able to keep a smile on the customer's face but you were making whatever they needed in the blink of an eye and handed it to them, telling them to come by again soon. He made awkward eye contact with you every now and then, but he still hadn't managed to say a word.

The next day, you were there before him, looking far too optimistic for someone to be at seven in the morning. For some reason, that didn't irk Seungmin as much as other people did. He wasn't against positivity and happiness, but he expressed those emotions in different ways. Ways other people didn't like. While they spread happiness in smiles and good vibes, engulfing their close ones in lingering hugs, he would add an extra pump of chocolate in their drink and made sure the latte art looked extra nice. You belonged to the former category. He could tell as the usual bustle of people walked in. You handled them all with such ease, he had to mentally slap himself to get back to his work and stop staring at you.

The two of you just clicked, working in harmony seamlessly without uttering a single word, despite never formally introducing yourselves to each other. The mornings started to become a thing Seungmin looked forward to. The six hour shift seemed too less. Every day he woke up, a skip in his step because of the fact that he could see you. Not that he like liked you or anything. His feelings were a whirlwind or chaos ever since you stepped foot into his life. His usually self poofed away, leaving behind a shy boy who could barely look you in the eye.

Although he was slightly jealous of your outgoing personality, he found it endearing the longer he worked with you. You remembered every little detail about everyone — from a man's promotion to a school kid's test grades. And you weren't doing it on purpose. You genuinely liked knowing about people and tried to change their day for the better. He heard you tell Jeno that you would like to be the reason someone smiled at least once that day.

Seungmin didn't speak with you directly, but your attitude was bringing a change in him too. His friends were the first to notice the change in him when they dropped by the coffee shop one day. Seungmin happened to be serving another customer and he looked happy instead of his regular blank expression. It was a nice change. When asked about it, he simply glanced in your direction, that infectious smile plastered all over your face as you placed fresh brownies in the showcase. You found joy in the most miniscule things, it was bewildering to him but he found it rather cute.

Hyunjin noticed his friend's gaze on you and for once, he didn't interrupt or tease him. A soft smile on his face, he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, watching the way Seungmin was looking at you. He wasn't a fool to see that his friend had much more than platonic colleague feeling towards you, whether he understood it himself or not.

The morning shift was starting to be somewhat productive. Once the majority of the people left as soon as the clock struck eight thirty, the place was empty except for the occasional one or two people. He had time to do whatever he wanted. Sometimes he cleaned down the tables and restocked the showcases. Other times, he would study. His daily vocal lessons were taking a toll on him. Not that he would ever quit. But he did have his moments of stress.

A ceramic mug was placed in front of him with whipped cream and caramel syrup piled on top of it. He turned away from the papers for his vocal lessons he'd been hunched over and looked at you. There was no customer in the shop, so you definitely weren't mistaken when you placed it in front of him. Besides, he was sitting behind the counter next to the cash register.

“Caramel Macchiato. Think of it as an apology —” Apology? — “if I managed to upset you in some way, I know I can be a bit too much —”

“I'm not mad at you?” That came out as a question. Not the tone Seungmin was hoping for, but he decided to go with the flow. “What made you think that?” Another dumb question. He'd been borderline ignoring you for the past week. Obviously you'd think you'd done something to upset him which in fact the complete opposite. “Nevermind, I can see why you'd think that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning around in the bar stool so he was facing you properly. “I'm sorry. I — uh, I'm Seungmin.”

“Y/n.” Your mood brightened up once he said that he wasn't mad at you. “You can keep the latte though. That one is my specialty.” You smiled, your eyes drifting from his face to the mug, eagerly waiting for him to try some. Which he did. It was… perfect. Not too sweet and the caramel didn't come on too strong. He used his thumb to wipe off the excess whipped cream over his mouth, a satisfactory nod following which made you beam. “Is it good?”

“Very.” Your bright smile was making him crack a small grin as well.

“You should start smiling more.” You pointed out, wiping your hands on the towel tucked in your apron pocket. “It suits you.”

The days that followed were filled with conversations between the two of you, although you were the one doing most of the talking. He didn't mind. He found a strange sense of happiness in seeing you ramble on and on about your cat or about the good grade you got on the test you were stressing about. He found himself wanting to know more and more about you. To see you more than the stupid six hour shift.

The insecure part of his mind told him that the smiles you gave him were the same as the ones you gave everyone else. It was just your nature. Being a living, breathing Pinkie Pie — making a change in an another person's day your life's sole mission. You were only talking to him because Jeno usually helped in the kitchen. Seungmin was just… the same as everybody else.

He didn't want to be everybody else.

You should smile more. It suits you.

Your words rang in his head day and night. Were you being nice or did you genuinely mean that? But you always meant whatever you said. You weren't afraid to hide your true thoughts, although you often sugar-coated your words so you wouldn't hurt anyone's feelings.

There was a new thought arising inside him that he tried to play off. Seungmin turned to his right, watching you make someone's drink. The morning rays of sun made your skin look golden, highlighting the pink tint of the lip gloss you applied that morning.

How could someone be so effortlessly breathtaking when making a cappuccino?

He wasn't foreign to the feeling of love, but you were something else entirely. You gave him a smile whenever you met his eyes, an action that made his cheeks turn pink as he looked away.

“Something on your mind?” You asked as you took a donut out of the showcase.

“No…” He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“You've been piling a little too much whipped cream onto that latte.” His eyes widened when he looked at the cup in front of him, a mountain of whipped cream sitting on top. His ears turned red when you chuckled. All the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop canceled out and it was only the sound of your laughter and the thumping of his heart in his chest that rang in his ears. He liked it. He liked hearing you laugh. He liked being the reason of your happiness.

He liked you.

That was a strong revelation. Normally, he'd let those thoughts mull over in his head for a while, but not this time. An idea formed in his head and he began to put his plan into action. He grabbed a cup and started making a latte.

“I do have something on my mind.” He said a while later, when you were sitting idly on your phone.

“What is it?” You asked, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. Your curious face made him hesitate for a moment. He took off the baseball cap he was wearing and ran his finger through his brown hair before focusing on you again.

“You.”

“Me?”

He swallowed. Seungmin picked up the drink he'd been trying to perfect and put it in front of you. He was scared. Your once beaming expression and turned into furrowed brows and an emotion he couldn't gage.

“Caramel Macchiato?”

“Jeno helped.”

A wide, toothy grin broke onto your face. “And here I thought I annoyed you.”

“The only thing that's annoying me is that you aren't trying my coffee.” He tried to act annoyed, but he wasn't able to play down the joy he was feeling.

You laughed, taking a big gulp from the ceramic mug. “Not bad.” You gave an appreciative nod. “I could teach you though.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungmin stepped closer.

“Yeah. Consider it a date.”

“It's a date now?” It was a rhetorical question, he knew that. A bubbling feeling arose in him when you stood up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He could smell the caramel on you as you lingered close to him for a second before pulling back. He couldn't hold back the happy grin this time, letting it take over as he looked into your eyes. “I want to take you out on a proper date.” His hands found yours, holding them with utmost care, thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“Well I would hope so. I do have better clothes than this uniform.” He chuckled. “And I want to see more of that smile.” You were definitely something different.

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin x reader #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / kim seungmin )#( 🎤 ⸻ events / valentines collab )

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edenesth · 17 days

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TWTHH Spinoff: Little Touch of Heaven [Teaser]

Pairing: physician!Yunho x herbalist!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: Dedicating his life to his work, Yunho had never bothered to entertain the idea of settling down. Despite encountering many charming women throughout his career, none had sparked his desire for companionship. But everything shifted when he met a certain herbalist whose medicinal knowledge seemed to surpass even his own. What began as mere intrigue might have gradually developed into affection.

A/N: Special thanks to the sweet @sundaybossanova for coming up with the main concept of Yunho's spinoff.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Mr. Ryu, I'm afraid I'll need all your raspberry and peppermint leaf supply for the day. Lady Park hasn't been doing too well in the early stages of her pregnancy," the physician announced upon entering the apothecary where he regularly obtained his medicines and herbs, his eyes busily scanning around for anything else that could be useful.

"Is that so? You might want to consider our latest batch of Codonopsis root imported directly from China just a week ago. It's highly effective in boosting vital energy and reducing fatigue during pregnancy."

Yunho's head shot up in surprise.

First of all, why hadn't he thought of that before? More importantly, the feminine voice addressing him sounded nothing like the elderly man who usually managed the store. He turned to find a young woman behind the counter, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"O-oh, um... hello there. I didn't realise Mr. Ryu had such a young wife," he blurted out before cursing himself, feeling embarrassed for making such a hasty assumption.

Your face immediately twisted in disgust, "Goodness gracious, you're severely mistaken! I'm his daughter!"

Way to go, you complete idiot!

This is probably gonna be the least angsty one out of all the spinoffs hehe but y'all know how I am, the climax might get a little exciting🙈 As always, I'm excited to hear your thoughts on the concept!

Tag list (1/8): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs |

@the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent |

@stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary |

@superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 |

@marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 |

@myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf |

@shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 |

@dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 |

@dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks |

@borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 |

@beauty143 @naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to this heart #little touch of heaven #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #historical au #joseon era #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic

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hollyhomburg · 2 months

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Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

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sailoryooons · 21 days

Note

Incubus yoongi x reader

Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much

☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader

☾ Summary:

Sunder (sun·der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space Sunder (sun·der) intransitive verb : to become parted, disunited, or severed

☾ Word Count: 5,297

☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut.

☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024

☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!!

☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾Filled Requests ☾ Masterlist Milestone Request Event ☾ Ask

Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!

A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.

And he’s staring at you.

You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention.

Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters.

There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom.

It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be.

Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them.

“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”

Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.”

A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”

With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady.

Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly.

A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching.

You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.

You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor.

You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you.

“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.”

Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.

It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity.

“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty.

“It will be done.”

“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”

Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.”

The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain.

Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.

Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.

Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open.

The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas.

Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment.

A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully.

Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls.

To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping.

Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies.

It stings a little more than you’d like.

Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows.

Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else.

He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath.

“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?”

“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.”

“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.”

“Don’t.”

You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there.

“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?”

“Yes.”

“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”

You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.”

“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.”

You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.

Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated.

You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist.

Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else.

A puppet.

Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that.

“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”

“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”

That sours your stomach. “Bel.”

“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”

“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”

“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?”

“You do have me.”

“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.”

The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse.

Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart.

You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude.

“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”

“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”

Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him.

These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart.

You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you.

Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.

Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses.

Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment.

You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship.

Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.”

He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.

Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly.

A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit.

Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark.

The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.

Still, they try.

The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome.

You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair.

Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused.

You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.

You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface.

You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales.

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone.

It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue.

Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.”

“I will try.”

“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.”

Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone.

You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.

It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance.

“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.”

“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?”

You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again.

Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected.

It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you.

His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak.

A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you.

“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.”

A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes.

“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.”

Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”

It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be.

Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal.

Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial.

When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe.

“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”

“No. Not with you. Never with you.”

His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.”

“Hmm.”

Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.”

“The Whip of Asmodeous?”

“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #bts suga smut #i forgot how to tag at this point its been so long #also raise ur hand if you cannot pronounce phlegethos

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