#bts angst bts omegaverse fic
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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
#bts omegaverse au#bts a/b/o#bts x reader#bts poly au#bts gang au#bts mafia au#bts polyamory au#bts au#bts fluff#bts hurt/comfort#bts werewolf au#bts angst bts omegaverse fic#bts hybrid fic#min yoongi fic#kim namjoon fic#kim seokjin fic#kim taehyung fic#park jimin fic#jeon jungkook fic#jjk#pjm#myg#knj#kth#ksj#jhs#jung hoseok fic#min yoongi x reader#kim namjoon x reader#kim seokjin x reader
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Lone Wolf: Master list
Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.
Genre: a/b/o, omegaverse, angst, hurt/comfort
Pairings: poly ot7 x reader; Sope focused
No schedule for my sanity. I'm just trying to enjoy writing again.
TAGLIST IS CLOSED
Series warnings: bigotry, including internalized bigotry, negative self-talk, neglect, childhood trauma, mentions of SA
A/n: This story will deal with a lot of internalized negativity about and struggles with society. The plot will contain many events and concepts that have numerous analogies to our own society and multiple interpretations are possible. I certainly have my own ideas, but the only agenda I intend to push is one of self-acceptance and love. I'm open to respectful discourse in the comments. Please keep in mind that I and others are very sensitive and if you want to be mean then be mean somewhere else.
Teaser
Homo sapiens lykos (lore explanations)
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Final summary (final update)
Taglist: @ellesalazar @rinkud @osakis-gf @scuzmunkie @queen-in-the-shadows
Permanent taglist: @halesandy @burningupp-replies @lilacdreams-00 @minclangyyy @yonkimint @wholockian1 @cbgdoll @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @armytwist @hwayne2294 @crish-mac @kazufuyusluv @dis-tru6tion @hey-itsmina @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lxvelyjiminie @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @shadowyjellyfishfest @yoongiigolden @staerryminimini
#lone wolf#bts a/b/o#bts omegaverse au#bts fic#bts angst#bts au#bts x reader#bts ot7#ot7 x reader#bts jungkook#bts taehyung#bts jimin#bts namjoon#bts hoseok#bts yoongi#bts seokjin#sopebubbles 🧼
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Borrowed Stars — Chapter 6 🤍
Summary:
"Their names fit so well together."
#bts#kim taehyung#taehyung#taejin#bts fanfic#kim seokjin#bts fic#bts fanfiction#fanfiction#taejin fic#alpha tae#alpha taehyung#alpha/beta/omega verse#abo au#abo#omega seokjin#omegaverse#bts jin#jin bts#jinv#vjin fic#vjin#taejin fanfic#taejin au#taejin fanfiction#hurt/comfort#angst with fluff
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RULES/ABOUT ME
GG MASTERLIST
BG MASTERLIST
ABOUT ME ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
Hey! I'm Kia ;) I'm 18yrs old and will be writing fics, reactions, mtls, hcs etc.
(Not new to writing just new to Tumblr)
You can scroll down to see my rules!
RULES (つ≧▽≦)つ
Groups I write for:
TWICE
ITZY
BLACKPINK
AESPA
RED VELVET
BTS
STRAY KIDS
ATEEZ
NCT (ALL UNITS)
TXT
ENHYPEN
MONSTA X
GOT7
More will be added soon!
MY DO'S:
I will write gxg, bxb, bxg as well as neutral reader!
I do all kinds of content: head cannons, mtl, reactions, drabbles, series, insecurity drabbles!
I also do write yandere n omegaverse, as well as g!p so feel free to request those!
There is pretty much no genre I don't do, as requests can vary from angst, to smut, to fluff!
You can also request multiple members at once even if they are from different groups!
MY DO NOT'S:
Any weird kinks like scat, piss kink, age regression etc.
I don't write dom!reader or any ships inside the groups!
I don't feel exactly comfortable writing for extremely sensitive topics like sh, sa, ed etc. I do try though, just please be patient as I'm not exactly good with it!
HOW DO MY STUFF LOOK LIKE:
MTL- this basically means most to least, or you send me an ask like "mtl in skz to like bondage" and I will reply with a list of who would be most down to do it to the least!
Headcannons- hcs include how would a particular idol act/be in different situations, for example if you request "alpha!Nayeon hcs" I would write an overview of how she would be and act!
Reactions- that's pretty self explanatory, it's just how would a certain group react to a scenario, for example "how would mafia!ateez react to their s/o being in danger" and I will write a separate scenario with each member!
Drabbles- drabbles are like fics, you give me an idea or a prompt along with a member/members and I write! It can be anything written in my DO'S! For example, "can you write yandere!ryujin finding out her s/o tried to escape" and I will write a drabble based on that!
Insecurity drabbles- an insecurity drabble includes an insecurity of yours and an idol/idols of choice. If your ask is like this "insecurity drabble, having stretch marks with Taeyong" I will write an already established relationship drabble where that idol helps w ur insecurity! It doesn't matter what it is!
HOW TO REQUEST:
Requests are made through DM's, or ask box and will be made into he span of two weeks max unless my inbox is flooded!
In your request you should mention the idols, the prompt, the genre and the gender you want it to be written in!
And that's that! Feel free to request and have a great day!!!!
#bts#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts fic#bts omegaverse#kpop omegaverse#ateez imagines#skz imagines#ateez reactions#skz reactions#twice imagines#aespa imagines#aespa reactions#blackpink imagines#blackpink reactions#itzy angst#itzy imagines#itzy reactions#twice angst#nct reactions#nct imagines#twice omegaverse#skz x reader#skz smut#skz fluff#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez fanfic#nct smut#enhypen imagines
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Skeletons in the Closet pt 2
Woo! Here’s part 2! It took ages bc I got COVID. :( Anyway, the only trigger I can think of is that Tae has a moment in the hospital. Enjoy!
Yoongi stepped out of the studio at 8:30 pm, exhausted from the length of the day but so excited to go home to Taehyung. He had the best news: his album was finally finished, and the company had given him a solid week off to rest up before his debut preparations exploded into a rush of MV filming, content creation, photo shoots for the album, interviews, and performances. He was exhausted from the many hours he’d spent re-recording tracks and trying to convince the higher ups at the company that his songs needed the profanity he’d originally included. Taehyung had heard every single song as he’d written it and potentially was more excited about its impending release than Yoongi had been. Yoongi knew that Taehyung would always be his biggest fan, and that was the reason for one tiny secret that Yoongi had kept pressed to his chest. It was currently pressed there literally, in a tiny velvet box inside the breast pocket of his leather jacket. Yoongi had gotten an impressive bonus upon signing with the label, certainly enough to get their bills caught up and leaving them with a little padding for a while. What Taehyung hadn’t known is that it was also enough for Yoongi to pay off the diamond engagement ring in his pocket too. Yoongi had written one final track that Taehyung had not heard yet, just for Taehyung, and it was the closing track to the album—the closing words “Marry me?” in Yoongi’s gruff heartfelt baritone.
Every time things had gotten difficult, Yoongi would reach into his pocket and watch the light glint from the shiny string of diamonds across the top of the white gold band and remember the man waiting for him at home. Taehyung made every aspect of his life better, and he encouraged him to take a chance on himself. His omega was gorgeous and gentle and nurturing, but he was also strong and fierce and loved Yoongi in a way he’d never experienced before. Taehyung had always soothed his alpha in ways that he’d never have the words to declare to the world. So now, with the greatest news that he could have until proposing, he jumped on his bike and sped toward their home.
He arrived quickly and got lucky with an elevator actually awaiting him in the lobby when he walked in. Within a few minutes, Yoongi was unlocking his door and calling into the space from the doorway.
“Tulip, are you here? I’m home.”
He paused to slide out of his boots and into the pair of Kumamon slippers that Taehyung had gotten him for Christmas. He hadn’t heard him call back, so maybe he was back in their bedroom and didn’t hear him.
“Taehyungie?”
His own voice echoed slightly back to him as he peeped into their bathroom, and then their bedroom. Yoongi was starting to get concerned, as the café Taehyung had been working at closed at 7, and it was inching towards 9 pm. He should have been home by now, and with as sick as he’d been lately, Yoongi’s alpha was raging inside his chest for their omega. They had always shared their locations with each other as their schedules usually didn’t align well and it kept Yoongi from losing his cool when his ruts were approaching. It only took him a moment to pull up the tracker they favored, and he was a little surprised to see it show the tiny blinking purple heart that he’d chosen to represent Taehyung blinking around at the Assassination Records building. Yoongi chuckled to himself at the thought of Taehyung showing up the building he’d just left, so he called to let him know he’d gotten out of the building before 2 am for the first time in months. The unease Yoongi started to feel when his call went straight to Taehyung’s voicemail left him unsure what to do. Taehyung hated it when he hovered, overbearing and posturing, for no good reason so he tried not to usually. But, fuck…something felt like it was very wrong.
There’s probably a good explanation for this, Yoongi thought to himself as he pulled his boots back on and headed back downstairs. His motorcycle was sitting in their designated spot, with moonlight glinting off the chrome, as he climbed on and revved the engine back to life. He took every shortcut he could think of to get back to the building where he hoped that Taehyung had come by to bring dinner and his phone had died. The battery hadn’t been holding up well lately, but Taehyung had put off buying a new model until it stopped working altogether. He blasted through the front doors of the building, taking deep breaths as he followed the tracker into a room off to the side facing the elevator that no one really used. To Yoongi’s utter horror, there were a few drops of blood on the floor and Taehyung’s cell phone in the garbage. It had been smashed to bits, but the blood stopped Yoongi in his tracks. What had happened here?
Yoongi bypassed the elevator and jetted up the stairs to the third floor where his studio was housed, begging the Moon Goddess to let him find Taehyung up there. No one was in his studio, the only light shining from under the door of Namjoon’s studio. Namjoon was a force to be reckoned with as the only omega producer in the company, but the man had musical genius dripping out of his pores. He’d been Yoongi’s primary producer helping him with his album, and he’d met Taehyung a few times, so Yoongi knocked on the door hard until Namjoon answered.
“Have you seen Taehyung?” Yoongi burst out as soon as Namjoon opened the door.
His eyes were round with surprise when he said, “No, hyung. He’s not been here. What’s up?”
“Fuck. I can’t find him; he wasn’t at home. But I found his phone smashed to bits in a room downstairs that had blood on the floor.”
“Shit, hyung! Maybe you should go back home. Maybe you just missed each other,” Namjoon replied. “I’ll call you right away if he shows up though. I’ll be here a few more hours to wrap up some songs for my mixtape.”
Yoongi’s alpha was on the war path at this point, and it was taking everything in him to not be out for blood. But Namjoon was right. Maybe Taehyung’s phone was broken in a freak accident or something and he’d gone back home after not finding Yoongi in his studio. Yoongi said goodbye to Namjoon and then headed back out to his bike to head home.
The trip home, 15 minutes at most, felt like it had taken years with the volume of worry that Yoongi had. He waited impatiently for the elevator, then shoved his way past a group of people heading to the floor above his to run down the hall to their flat. Yoongi didn’t bother to take off his boots when he got through the door, heading straight toward the kitchen. Taehyung and he had bought some silly magnetic notepads to write sappy notes to one another when their schedules got crazy, so Yoongi beelined for them to see if there was a note from his love. But goddess knew he wasn’t prepared for the note he found.
The note Taehyung had left was written in obvious duress. Taehyung’s normally flowy handwriting was jerky at best and there were tear stains all over the page, blurring the ink. Yoongi honestly had to read it twice to comprehend that Taehyung had left. The only family Taehyung really had left was his elder brother, so that had to have been where he’d gone. Honestly, most of his belongings were still in the apartment they had shared. He’d left all of his sewing projects scattered across the armchair in their bedroom, his most prized possession—his sewing machine—sitting where he’d left it on the desk in their room. Yoongi barely gave half a thought before calling Seokjin. Seokjin barely got hello out before Yoongi interrupted.
“Where’s Taehyung?” he growled into the phone.
“Yoongi, he’s not here. Is he not there with you?” Seokjin replied, far too calm for Yoongi’s liking.
“What the fuck, Seokjin? Do you think I’d ring you up to ask that if he was here? All I have are his smashed cellphone from a trash bin at the office and a shaky note saying he was leaving. He must be with you! I need to talk to him. Put him on the phone.”
Yoongi barely suppressed the howl of frustration bubbling up his throat when Seokjin replied to him. “I don’t know what to tell you, Yoongi. He’s not here. But if he left, maybe he had a damn good reason.”
The called ended abruptly and it took Yoongi more than a minute to realized he’d been the one to disconnect it. He stared at his phone screen and the note Taehyung had written, now wadded into a tight ball in his palm. Just this morning, he’d kissed Taehyung. He’d said he loved him.
And Taehyung. He’d said, “Go to work, Yeobo. I’ll be okay, I promise. I’m seeing my doctor this morning and working a half shift this afternoon. I love you more than life. Go make your dreams come true.”
He’d promised to let him know what the doctor said. Taehyung, his Tulip, had promised him. And he never broke a promise.
At that thought, something began shattering inside Yoongi. Yoongi didn’t remember locking their apartment door. He honestly didn’t remember riding the elevator down to the lobby. He didn’t remember getting on his motorcycle, the same one on which he’d driven Taehyung back to his dorm on the night they met, when Yoongi met his soulmate. He never made the conscious decision that he needed to drive to Busan, but he came back to himself at just before 1 in the morning when he was slamming his fists against the door to Seokjin’s house.
Seokjin answered the door in nothing but a wrinkled pair of sweats and a pinched look on his face. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? I told you he’s not here,” he sighed after throwing open the door.
“Where is my fiancé. Where the fuck is he, Seokjin?! You know he’s my soulmate. I need him,” Yoongi snarled, trying to press past Seokjin into the dimly lit house.
Seokjin was like a brick wall; the other alpha didn’t have a hope of getting past him. He honestly barely exerted any effort shoving Yoongi out of the doorway, reaching to pull the door solidly closed behind him. Yoongi rushed back at him, and when Seokjin held him back, he started screaming.
“Taehyung! Taehyung, I know you’re here! Tulip, please. I need you, I NEED YOU! TAEHYUNG!”
Taehyung had gone to bed, sobbing. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought of sleeping alone without Yoongi by his side. He missed the scent of forest all around him in their bed, the scent bleeding protection and alpha into his very bones. When he’d tried to force himself to lie down on the scentless bed in the spare bedroom, he’d thrown himself into a panic attack so strong that he vomited up the 4 bites of dinner he’d been able to force down his own throat. Hoseok, a nurse at a local children’s hospital, had known that was terrible for the pup growing slowly inside Taehyung. He’d held back Taehyung’s overgrown curly hair while he’d hurled viciously into the toilet, then wiped his face and neck and chest with an ice-cold washcloth to cool him down before letting him take timid sips of water. Hoseok had hugged him tight and let him sob the rest of the panic attack into his chest, the mild spearmint scent of the beta soothing his nausea and the panic he couldn’t seem to tamp down. When Taehyung had finally settled down, Hoseok had gently taken his hand and guided him down the hall and encouraged him to lay down in the middle of the bed he shared with Seokjin before climbing in beside him and pulling him into his chest again.
“I know this is so hard for you, TaeBear. I can’t imagine someone forcing me away from Seokjin. But it’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of you, and we will spoil the ever-loving hell out of your pup,” Hoseok had whispered into Taehyung’s hair as he ran gentle hands up and down his back until Seokjin joined them in bed and wrapped around him from the back.
Taehyung dozed off into a fitful sleep until he woke up to a sound he loved, but hated too in that moment. Yoongi’s motorcycle is a sound Taehyung could never forget the sound of—and loved so much normally—but it wrecked him now as he shook Hoseok awake.
“Yoongi’s here,” he whimpered, tears trickling down his cheeks. “He’s got to go. They’ll hurt our pup, hyung, please.”
Hoseok jerked into action at that and smacked his palm into Seokjin’s chest. “The fuck, Seokie?” Seokjin mumbled as he sat up.
“Yoongi’s here. His motorcycle woke Tae,” Hoseok whispered.
Seokjin saw his baby brother trembling with fear, one hand across his mouth to stop the whimpers that were attempting to blast out of his chest, the other pressed to his stomach where his unborn pup lay. Seokjin jerked out of bed at that, the scent of his brother’s fear and agony flooding the room. That was enough to push the alpha into action. He left the bedroom, pausing in the laundry room to strip off the clothes he’d had on when he’d been lying pressed against his brother, and slid into a pair of scentless sweats he pulled out of the dryer. Honestly, he thought they were Hoseok’s because they weren’t quite long enough for him, but they’d do. He needed to rid himself of Taehyung’s scent before facing off with Yoongi. Seokjin had just gotten the pants pulled up fully when the banging at the door started. He marched to the door and took a deep breath before moving to handle the issue. Seokjin had always respected Yoongi, one alpha to another, and normally would trust his brother with him. This scenario was just so incredibly fucked up; if Taehyung wanted him to send Yoongi away, Seokjin would shove him back on his bike and force him back to Seoul if necessary.
Meanwhile, Taehyung laid in bed with his brother-in-law, shaking with the effort of staying in the bed and not making any sounds. He and Yoongi hadn’t mated in the physical sense, and he didn’t have Yoongi’s teeth marks scored into his flesh, but Taehyung’s omega was screaming for their mate. The sound of Yoongi’s voice screaming his name was nearly more than he could handle. He had started to whine against his own best interest, and he felt a scream coming up his throat, so he crammed his own forearm into his mouth and bit down so that the wail wouldn’t pry its way out of his lips and leaned into Hoseok’s embrace as much as he could. After an eternity, that was truly only 5 minutes, Yoongi’s desperate yells and pleads stopped ringing out; 10 minutes after he stopped screaming, Taehyung heard the bike rev and gravel crunch, followed by the screech of the tires spinning on pavement, as his mate left him there.
By this point, Taehyung was inconsolable. He was borderline hysterical, just crying and wailing against Hoseok’s chest, “My alpha, I need my alpha. Bring him back.” He was howling between the words as his omega pushed to the forefront of his mind and barely even registered his brother coming back in and climbing into the bed. Seokjin pulled Taehyung into his lap like he’d done when he was small and rocked him back and forth, apologizing and consoling the omega as much as he could. He wasn’t the alpha being begged for, but hopefully his scent and gentle purring would be able to sooth him long enough to get some sleep. It took a while, but eventually the pregnant omega settled enough to fall asleep in Seokjin’s arms.
“What are we gonna do, Jinnie?” Hoseok whispered frantically. “This whole situation is so fucked up.”
Seokjin shifted slightly to lay his unconscious brother into the bed between them. He leaned over and pressed his forehead to Hoseok’s own gently before murmuring back, “We take care of Tae and protect the pup. We’d talked about joining a pack, but maybe this means we have to make our own.”
Taehyung woke up the next morning to his head pounding. His consecutive panic attacks from the evening before had wrung all the energy out of his body and he’d cried so much he knew he had to have been dehydrated. He had woken up alone in his brother’s bed, surrounded by Hoseok’s subtle spearmint and Seokjin’s sweet buttercream scent. Their combined scents were soothing in a weird way and made Taehyung think of these buttery mint candies that his grandmother had made when he was a pup for events in their home pack. He took a few more moments to lay there and stare at the ceiling before his full bladder forced him out of bed. Instead of using the bathroom connected to their bedroom, he wandered into the hall to use the guest bathroom. In the light of the bathroom, he caught sight of the dark bruise on his forearm where he’d bit down to try and keep Yoongi from hearing him. After using the restroom and washing up a little bit, he wandered out into the living room to find out where the rest of his family was. He found Hoseok curled up on the sofa with a cup of coffee, giggling at something Seokjin had called out to him from the kitchen. Seokjin gestured to Taehyung with the spatula he’d been using to flip the toasted sandwich he was making.
“I saw you looking at my husband’s coffee. Don’t you even think about it,” Seokjin said with a flourish of scowled eyebrows and loud proclamations. “Caffeine is bad for pups.”
“I know, hyung. I don’t even like coffee. I usually have tea,” Taehyung mumbled.
Hoseok giggled again at Seokjin’s actions before patting the sofa seat beside him. “Come cuddle with me, TaeBear, since someone else won’t.”
“YAH!” Seokjin yelled as he flipped the sandwich onto a plate. “I’m feeding your ungrateful ass, so zip it!”
Taehyung smiled softly at their playful bickering even as he tucked himself into Hoseok’s arms. He thought fondly back to when they’d first gotten together. Seokjin had been in culinary school, and for his business management course, he’d been assigned to work for the semester in any restaurant of his choosing. Seokjin had thought vastly outside the box and did his semester of work in a hospital cafeteria, wrapping stale sandwiches in green and pink cellophane and making terrible coffee. It had been an interesting take on a restaurant born of necessity, and he’d met a beautiful boy with gentle hands and a cordiform smile. He’d walked out of that semester with the only A in his class and the man of his dreams in his arms. Taehyung had felt comfortable with Hoseok from the moment they’d met; Hoseok had always felt like hearth and home to both Kim brothers.
They were quiet during breakfast as Taehyung took tiny sips of peppermint tea. When Seokjin had cracked the egg to make Taehyung’s sandwich, the smell of the egg frying triggered Taehyung’s morning sickness so hard that he hadn’t been able to make it to the bathroom. He’d opened the back door behind Seokjin and puked into the bushes in their tiny back yard while Hoseok and Seokjin frantically aired the smell out of the kitchen. They’d tried to apologize, but Taehyung knew that morning sickness and hypersensitivity to smells would just be his life for the next little while. He knew it would be worth it to hold his pup in his arms, so he wouldn’t complain about it.
“Taehyungie, you and I have a few places to go this morning. Get dressed after you finish your tea,” Hoseok said gently. “We’re going to go get you some more outfits, a pair of shoes you can work in at hyung’s café and get you set up with a bank account since you’ll need it for direct deposit.”
Yoongi woke up disoriented and angry. He’d struggled to deal with Taehyung’s absence in the apartment and Seokjin’s whispered words ricocheting around his head.
“Yoongi, stop being selfish this instant. My mate is inside that house and I am not letting you near Seokie acting like this! Taehyung is his own man and is an adult. We both know he loves you, so don’t you think if he left, he’d have a damn good reason to? Did you even stop to think that maybe he had to do what was best for the both of you, no matter how much it hurts?”
And Seokjin was right. Taehyung wouldn’t have left without reason. Yoongi was logical enough to know that Taehyung must have made the decision under a substantial amount of duress, but he just couldn’t figure out why. He felt like he was working a jigsaw puzzle that had half the pieces missing. He just kept hoping and praying that Taehyung would change his mind and come home. It had been so difficult to sleep in their empty bed the night before that Yoongi had stripped down to his boxers and wrapped Taehyung’s satin dressing gown around his body, pulling Taehyung’s pillow from his side of the bed to sleep in the floor. Yoongi had slept the entire night curled up in a tiny ball on the carpet beside Taehyung’s side of the bed. He was still laying there when his phone rang from somewhere above his head. Hoping against hope that it might be Taehyung, he scrambled up and snatched it from the charger only to be smashed in the face by the disappointment of it being his manager calling.
"Hello?” Yoongi growled into the phone.
“Yoongi, I know you were supposed to be off this week, but something has come up and we need you to come down to the studio. There’s a problem with one of the tracks for your album.”
Yoongi stood there stunned for a few minutes before saying he’d come down in a bit. He pulled on the jeans from the day before, but stared into the closet to find a new shirt to wear. The closet they’d shared was still full of Taehyung’s things. It honestly looked like he’d left everything behind. Yoongi’s chest clenched as he once again couldn’t tamp down the thought that something was seriously wrong. He didn’t want to be anywhere Taehyung wasn’t, and his alpha was howling like it was mortally wounded in his chest. Yoongi lifted one hand and rubbed his sternum as hard as he could.
“He’s going to come back,” he whispered to the alpha inside him as he pulled Taehyung’s favorite silk button down shirt on before walking out the door.
Yoongi didn’t remember much about the drive into the office. He’d been lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out what might have happened and where Taehyung had gone while he zipped his motorcycle through traffic. He parked it in his designated spot without much thought before catching the lift to the main office from the underground parking deck, nose tucked into the collar of Taehyung’s shirt as he walked in to find Namjoon and Jiwoon nearly coming to blows in the main lobby of the building in front of the reception desk.
“You’re just a manager, Jiwoon! You don’t have the right to fucking mettle in the producer’s computers!” Namjoon yelled, his usually subtle leather scent spiking into a suffocating chemical fire in his rage.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to, omega. You shouldn’t even be here! Go back to the fucking kitchen where you belong,” Jiwoon sneered back.
Yoongi had been willing to watch them battle it out until Jiwoon had insulted omegas. The ache that his own omega was missing had him snarling and stepping in front of Namjoon.
“That’s enough. Just because you are my manager doesn’t mean I won’t deck you right here for saying shit like that about omegas. Namjoon is the best producer in this building, and you know it,” Yoongi rumbled, pushing Jiwoon back a step before glancing back to look at Namjoon. “What’s going on here, Joon-ah?”
Namjoon was obviously stressed and angry, having lifted both hands to tug on his own hair. “That slimeball you call a manager broke into my fucking studio and deleted the last track for your album. Said it wasn’t hard enough for a rapper to include on his album.”
Yoongi’s head whipped back to Jiwoon, eyes narrowing as some puzzle pieces he’d been missing slipped into place. “What the fuck did you do, Jiwoon?”
The leash he’d held on his rage must have slipped a little because Jiwoon had begun backing away from Yoongi, but had run out of space behind him as his back thudded against the wall. Only a few seconds passed before Yoongi had him pinned against the wall.
“The fuck did you do, Jiwoon? What did you do to Taehyung?” he snarled right into the weaker alpha’s face.
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything do him,” Jiwoon rushed to say.
“I found his phone down here in that side room, smashed and blood in the floor. If you harmed a single hair on his head, it will be the last thing you do.”
Yoongi hadn’t even realized he’d balled up his fist to start in on Jiwoon until Namjoon grabbed it and tugged, trying to get him to back off.
“Hyung, let’s go to your studio for a few minutes. I think we all need to cool off,” Namjoon was saying as he tugged him back.
“I meant what I said, Jiwoon. If you touched him and I find out about it, I’ll rip your arms off and beat your face in with them,” Yoongi threatened again before following Namjoon back to the elevators.
Namjoon kept his hands on Yoongi’s arm the entire trip up to the floor housing their studios, then tugged Yoongi towards his own studio. He spent a moment resetting the passcode before opening the door and shoving Yoongi inside. Yoongi was too agitated to sit, so he stalked around the studio, from wall to wall and back again, in front of the door as Namjoon sat in his computer chair.
“So, you weren’t able to find Taehyungie?” Namjoon asked softly.
“No. But I think his elder brother is hiding him somewhere. I drove to his house last night and something about the way he reacted to me makes me think he knows more than he’s saying. But, fuck, Joon-ah…Jiwoon is giving me bad vibes.”
Namjoon was quiet for a moment before looking into Yoongi’s eyes. “I hate to say it, but I kind of agree with you. You know that guy I’ve been dating, Chanyeol?”
Yoongi nodded. “What about him?”
“Well, Yeolie is on the security team here. I called him this morning about how Jiwoon was sneaking around and he’s going to try to pull the security cameras from the lobby yesterday. He said that there’s one that faces toward that room you found Taehyungie’s phone in. If we find something bad, we’ll end him. Our CEO is a good man and won’t tolerate any bullshit. Yeolie is supposed to call me as soon as he looks over all the tapes. In the meantime, Jiwoon might have deleted the copy of your song from my computer, but you know I always have like three other copies of all my work.”
Namjoon’s words helped to give his alpha something to chew on for the time being. He’d keep trying to find Taehyung, but in the meantime, he might be able to sort out what had caused him to run to begin with.
Taehyung and Hoseok had gone through a few shops already, but Taehyung was super hesitant to allow a large sum of money to be spent on clothing he wouldn’t fit into in a few months when his abdomen blossomed to make room for his growing pup. He could tell that Hoseok was beginning to be a bit frustrated that he wouldn’t choose things, but he just didn’t know how to express the things going on his head. Taehyung had honestly thought that the headache he woke up with would get better after he’d had some water, but it just seemed like it had been getting worse in the bright fluorescent lighting of the mall they’d come to. Hoseok was chatting away with the girl in the shop they’d come in while Taehyung pretended to look through a rack of pajamas in the corner.
“Taehyungie, this lovely lady just let me know that they are having a sale. Everything in the shop is buy one, get one free. Isn’t that amazing? You can get twice the things for the same price,” Hoseok called as he approached him.
Taehyung rubbed his hand across his eyes before replying, “That’s great, Hobi-hyung.”
Taehyung held up a plaid pajama set to see if it might be tall enough to fit him, when he suddenly began seeing spots in his vision. Before he could say anything to alert Hoseok to how he was feeling, everything started to go black, and Taehyung felt his knees buckle.
“Tae!” Hoseok cried out, catching him before he hit the ground.
The panic in Hoseok’s voice was the last thing to register before Taehyung was completely unconscious.
The first thing he was aware of as he began to come to was the feel of something annoying in his nose. Taehyung tried to lift his hand to knock whatever it was loose, and that’s when he realized that someone was holding his hand and that there was something slightly sharp poking the inside of his elbow. He furrowed his eyebrows a bit, trying to remember what had happened before he slowly opened his eyes.
“Taehyung!” Seokjin exclaimed. “Oh, thank the goddess!”
“Jin-hyung? What happened?” he croaked out.
“You passed out on Hoseokie while you were shopping for some clothes. How are you feeling?”
“Weird. And my head is still throbbing. Can I have some water?”
In lieu of a response, Seokjin helped Taehyung to sit up a bit and take small, slow sips of water from a pitcher on the hospital’s bedside table. Just the action of sipping the water made Taehyung feel exhausted in a way he hadn’t felt before.
“Jin-hyung, what’s wrong with me? Is my pup okay?” Taehyung whispered fearfully, squeezing Seokjin’s hand.
“I don’t know for sure, TaeBear. I just know that when I got here, Hoseokie was helping them draw several vials of blood for testing while they were doing an ultrasound, but no one has said anything yet. Hoseokie works at this hospital, so they are letting him help to a certain extent in small ways. He’s currently somewhere bullying the lab into speeding up the blood tests.”
Taehyung giggled a little at the thought of his sweet brother-in-law bullying anyone. He still felt so exhausted from all the stress of the past day and a half, so he closed his eyes for a moment with the intention of just resting them. He woke up 45 minutes later when he heard Hoseok laughing a little in the hallway, his loud cackle jarring him out of the strange dream he’d been having about Yoongi. He slid his eyes open in time to watch Hoseok press a soft kiss to Seokjin’s forehead before greeting a female alpha who’d entered his room holding a clipboard.
“It’s good to see you awake, Taehyung-ssi. My name is Dr. Song, and I’ll be your physician for today. You gave our best nurse, Hoseokie, quite the shock today,” she said as she adjusted the oxygen canula that he’d tugged to the side in his sleep to fit more firmly in his nostrils. “We’ve gotten the results of your tests and I wanted to speak with you for a moment. Now, Hoseokie didn’t give me any details about what’s going on, and I don’t really need them if you don’t want to share them, but he told me that you just found out about the pregnancy yesterday and that the alpha father of your pup can’t be near you during this time.”
“Yeah, he’s right,” Taehyung replied.
“Well, seeing as this is your first pregnancy, I want to go over some things that are completely necessary in order to keep both you and your pup safe until you can see an OB/GYN in the area. I’ll make a referral for you, so you won’t have to scramble to find someone, okay?” Once Taehyung nodded his understanding, Dr. Song continued from where she had perched lightly on the side of his bed. “Now, I’m so sorry to break this news to you, Taehyung-ssi. But pregnant omegas have difficulty maintaining their hormone levels. Your body is so zoned in on the pup you are carrying that it won’t function properly to make the things you need. Your inner omega can only see the pup inside you, and it will sacrifice your health for the sake of the pup’s. In a normal situation, where the omega is mated, their mate takes the responsibility for keeping them healthy and scenting them often. At the bare minimum, you will need to be scented by an alpha twice a day, since the pup’s biological father is an alpha, and the alpha will need to be someone you aren’t related to. Your body won’t react the same way to your alpha brother as it would the scent of an alpha outside your family pack. The IV you are hooked to is an artificial hormone source that will work for the time being, but you will have to find an alpha willing to step in and scent you regularly. If you can’t, you’ll continue to vomit more than you should and have more fainting spells. Eventually, the lack of hormones that should be triggered by scenting will begin to affect your unborn pup, and I won’t be able to guarantee their survival. This is imperative, okay?”
Taehyung sat shocked at this. Omegas weren’t taught anything about their own bodies in the sub-gender education system in their home province, and he’d never thought to investigate it further. Just as Taehyung was beginning to despair at the thought of approaching some random alpha, his brother spoke up.
“I think I know an alpha that will help. He is working at my café while in college, and he helped a pregnant classmate last year when her alpha died in an accident. I’ll call him and see if he can come to the house for dinner tonight,” Seokjin murmured.
“In that case, you will be free to go home as soon as the IV bag you are connected to empties. You’ve taken in half of it already, so I think you’ll be able to be discharged in a couple hours,” Dr. Song said before bowing to them politely and leaving the room.
They sat there in silence for a few moments before Taehyung started to cry. “I don’t want just some alpha. I want MY alpha, hyung.”
“I know you do, Baby Bear. But is it safe for you to go back to him right now?” Seokjin whispered back.
“No. But the thought of being scented by someone besides Yoongi or you makes me want to die."
"Don’t talk like that, Kim Taehyung,” Hoseok broke in. “If hyung is talking about who I think he is, you’ll love him. Jungkook is unlike any alpha I’ve ever known. And he’ll be good to you. Just give him a chance, TaeBear. He’s a good man, I promise.”
Part1
#kim taehyung#TAETAE#Taebae#taebear#taegi#Taegi Angst#taegi fic#bts imagine#bts fic#bts imagines#bts imagination#bts fanfic#omegaverse#omega kim taehyung#alpha min yoongi#alpha kim seokjin#beta jung hoseok#omega park jimin#alpha jeon jungkook#mpreg#sad boi vibes
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UPDATE.
i've been gone for far too long and i'm sorry. the holidays took up a lot of my time and then i ended up getting very sick, but now that i'm finally here... there's a lot to do.
in the process of thinking up new ideas on what to write for this page, i came to the realization that i really wanted to create a group on here that was solely based on ot7!bts in omegaverse. i know that this isn't a very popular idea, but i really think that it would be something fun to write out. and if anyone is interested, i'd love to come up with some amazing ideas for said future group!
if you're at all interested, please let me know!
#bts#bangtan#bts army#bts fanfic#bts fic#bangtan sonyeondan#hajimakitten#bts fluff#bts angst#omegaverse#alpha beta omega#a/b/o verse#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#bts ot7#poly ot7
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BTS | OT7 | FIC RECS
Hi guys, it's been a while since I've posted. Exams are finished and I'm starting to write again so I can't wait to share the works that I've collated over the past few months!
But this post isn't about any upcoming works. It's about loving and supporting our fellow writers. In the next few upcoming posts, I've collated fics that I really liked and I hope you'll enjoy them as much! Don't forget to support the writers and artists as well. Whether it is to leave a like, a comment, or follow them, I know they'll appreciate hearing from you.
Some of the fics below contain smut, so read the labels before clicking. If there are any fics that you guys would like to recommend, I would love to hear them as well! 😃
Little do you know, @yoongiofmine (Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au, ot7 x reader, poly relationship)
Moonchild, @yoongiofmine (fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, ABO, werewolf au)
Emerald Gem, @sweetlyskz (Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, Ot7 x reader)
Unnatural Instincts, @bangtanflirt (angst, fluff, smut, OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids)
Snow Angel, @daichiduskdrop (A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers, Ot7 x reader)
Lone Wolf, @sopebubbles (a/b/o, omegaverse, angst, hurt/comfort, poly ot7 x reader)
The Sanguis Duology, @boratha (Fantasy, Romance, Smut, Hurt and Comfort, Vampire!AU, Magic!AU, Polyamory!AU)
Abundance, @angelicyoongie (hybrid au, enemies to lovers/strangers to lovers, ot7 x female reader)
Caramel, @blue-and-grey-army (BTS, Idol AU, poly au, BTS x reader, OT7, OT7 x reader, Idol BTS, Dom BTS, sub reader, angst, fluff, eventual smut)
Cry me a river, @minniepetals (angst, slight fluff, poly ot7xreader, mafa au, poly au, arranged marriage au)
Boyfriend for hire, @remedyx (bts ot7 x reader, angst, fluff, smut, poly au, relationship for convenience, strangers to lovers, long crush, slow burn)
7 hybrids moved in with me, @lillsisamarshmallow (Hybrid!Poly!BTS x Reader, Slight Swearing, Homelessness, Mentions of Violence, Blood, Fluff)
#fic recs#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x oc#bts fanfics#bts series#bts scenarios#bts imagine#bts x y/n#bts x fem!reader#bts x you
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DANCE WITH ME - MASTERLIST
Dance with me
“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”
Summary : All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (a/n : I'm a shit for summary I'm so sorry-)
Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her afab)
Genre : soulmate au (of course I'm a bitch for this), omegaverse, bangtan alphas au!, omega reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships
Status : In process
Warnings : the usual one I guess, like smut, angst, fluff (yeah its a warning for some people ) mention of depression, abusive parents (physically and morally), violence and blood, PTSD, scars, self harm,...
A/N : finally have the courage to post this (again) ! Hope y'all will enjoy it 🥺 this is my first omegaverse fic, I took a lot of points from the omega verse, and modified some of them to my liking hehe
ps : sorry for any mistakes (again yeah), english is not my first language ! 💜
ao3 | wattpad | spotify
☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
Incorrect quotes : #1 #2 #3
#aly's writing#rorythme#Dance with me#bts#bts au#bts soulmate#bts soulmate au#bts polyamory#bts poly#bts poly!au#bts poly!#bts poly au#bts x reader#poly!bts x reader#demons bangtan#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts ff#bts x yn#omegaverse#bts omegaverse au#bts as alphas#y/n as an omega#x y/n#x reader
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Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One
Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)
Rating: 18+
Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)
Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.
Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s
Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.
Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.
When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.
Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.
a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!
xo - h
That’s it baby cum for me.
Such a good little slut for Daddy.
Wish that dildo was my cock.
Fuck this is so hot.
The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this.
Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day.
His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone.
Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone.
Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.
Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay.
Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into.
Two Years Ago
It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé.
During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase.
But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college.
For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car.
Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello.
When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong.
Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon.
That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship.
As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection.
So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift.
He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon.
What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table.
As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior.
It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.
Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning.
When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life.
His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever.
After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options.
“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said.
“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together.
But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.
The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant.
Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown.
During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours.
Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can.
Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case.
A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over.
Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.
Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of.
“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.
His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him.
It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.
His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach.
But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain.
Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion.
In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since.
But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him.
“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.”
“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”
The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer.
Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”
Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh.
“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly.
Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him.
“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious.
“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”
“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!”
Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions.
“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.”
Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.
“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.
“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls.
“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!”
“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit.
“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”
Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.”
Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room, it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.
Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!”
“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.
“No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”
The entire room went silent.
“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm.
Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one.
How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men?
Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying.
“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”
Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.”
Seokjin winced.
“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”
“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added.
“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”
Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous.
“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.”
“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased.
“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want.
“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”
“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up.
Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize.
He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know.
“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?”
Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.”
The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face.
Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him.
“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?”
Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”
A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.
“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.”
Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.
Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress.
“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking.
“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.”
Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up.
“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?”
That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.
I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot.
When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in.
Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty.
So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)
I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.
For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel.
Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t.
Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making.
Jin, the moon.
That’s it. He was the moon.
Present
“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.
Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job.
Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread.
The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over.
And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.
He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers.
One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right.
If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.
But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.
“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.
On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.
It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own.
You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.
You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears.
You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.
But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world.
Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway.
Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends.
When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life.
Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor.
He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that.
A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.
Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.
And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.
But try telling his dick that.
Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties.
And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.
This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading.
During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him.
He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste?
And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.
He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–
Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while.
As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms.
He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach.
Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?
She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow.
Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man.
Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating.
“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said.
He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.
Where was that man now? She didn’t know.
She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived.
Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.
He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.
It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else.
She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free.
She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.
Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her?
No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future.
This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.
With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown.
“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found.
She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to.
She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back.
She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall.
“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.”
She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner.
There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August.
The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off.
You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality.
To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people?
You don’t. That’s the problem.
Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends.
You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to.
Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous.
But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play.
And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence.
Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary.
As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t—
“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”
Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel.
“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”
“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”
“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.
Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.
Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.
After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk.
But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. .
From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments.
Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them.
Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.
But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.
The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you.
But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real.
Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.
And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill.
Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod.
When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin.
The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in.
Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into.
For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin.
Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty.
It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.
Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in.
And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.
The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce.
And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours.
When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red.
If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.
Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude.
All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing.
Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down.
With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry.
With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity.
In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off.
You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait.
Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.
The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.
“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots.
When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee.
Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe.
Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill.
“That all depends on how much you practice.”
“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor.
Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”
“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to.
As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon.
This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice.
And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties.
“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse.
There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon.
Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.
Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast.
And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore.
With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags.
You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll.
When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace.
Snow is really romantic.
“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face.
“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks.
“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining.
A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward.
“What do–”
“I just–”
You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin.
“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating.
“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”
You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn.
“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?
Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him.
While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes.
You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection.
He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.
He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time.
While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim.
Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional.
You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response.
“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”
Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says.
Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak.
His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”
You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it.
“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”
As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in.
“Yeah,” you reply lamely.
You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression.
Then, he leans in.
Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.
Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek.
All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.
This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness.
If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock.
It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you.
“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name.
“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?
“Turn around,” he says.
Wait, what?
You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind?
Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.
“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused.
He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for?
“Wha–”
You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet.
Fuck.
“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath.
Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago?
“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck.
Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet.
“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead.
Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes.
“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off.
He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board.
“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.”
You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it.
“Your best girl?” You ask lightly.
Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”
You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her.
If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.
“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue.
“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.”
You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily.
“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes.
You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him.
God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.
You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control.
After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter.
He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him.
In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor.
Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster.
You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large.
You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend.
You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down.
The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal.
“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you..
You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked.
“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself.
“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard.
Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height.
Holy shit.
Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside.
You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over.
“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince.
“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.”
Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing.
“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.”
You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold.
“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.”
You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other.
“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns.
“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”
You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.”
Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head.
“No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother.
“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything.
“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”
Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair.
“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.”
Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self.
You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk.
A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it.
“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”
Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth.
His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it.
Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere.
You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple.
That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.
Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs.
His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face.
“I–I’m sorry!”
Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen.
You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot.
And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into?
The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door.
Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down.
Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.
Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates.
If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess.
Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.
“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.
Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess.
You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters.
You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same.
You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin.
He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip.
He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count.
He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen.
“Wait,” he says, and you freeze.
Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours.
“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”
Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.”
Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.”
His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.
Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?
You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it.
As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”
“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own.
“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”
When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful.
As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something.
With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well.
You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give.
You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead.
That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard.
You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day.
How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous.
Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips.
God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around.
He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock.
Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard.
If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen.
Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy.
It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all.
Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension.
You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this.
You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.
The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal.
Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible.
You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with.
As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it.
You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit.
Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop.
You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier.
The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now.
And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today.
You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum.
Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation.
You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop.
You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind.
You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point.
You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising.
Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money.
You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive.
Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved.
There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring.
You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate.
In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well.
You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category.
The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”.
You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil.
“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans.
Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.
You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch.
“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”
His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you.
“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.”
The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts.
To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.
“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”
Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.
“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.”
You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity.
The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more.
“Please,” you moan at your screen.
Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself?
“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”
You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.
“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”
Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate.
Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything.
Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again.
“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.”
Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied.
He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock.
“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.”
In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash.
You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.
Please, Daddy. Please let me cum.
I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear.
Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock!
Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course.
The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record.
He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar? “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.”
Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe.
There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock.
“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit.
The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip.
“Is this what you’re begging for?”
Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes.
Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip.
“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow.
“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.”
You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like.
Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.
“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me. Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out.
Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing.
His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out.
Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory?
There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far.
“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”
Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release.
He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan.
With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”.
“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.”
The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling.
You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant.
Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago.
He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site.
©2024 by jooniperbonsai
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hi! been reading s&z and just wanted to know, is this going to be a long fic? if there is anything else you want to say about (not spoilers ofc) what would it be, like what did you envision the fic for? sorry just curious about the bts of the fic
and I am really excited for the fifth chapter mentioned in the tags!
hey love, thank you for asking! it's so cool that you're interested in the bts:
so, s&o started out as a drabble, which came to me shortly after i first watched – because salaar was so perfectly made for omegaverse, like it just fits in. no tailoring needed.
there were two ideas in particular that interested me:
if varadha was an omega, he never would have revealed it, he would have done everything to keep that information to himself. so, how far would he go, and how would it work? so, yes, this fic will include varadha hiding his dynamic (but obviously not from the one person he trusts with this information, the one person he trusts with himself)
if varadha and deva were soulmates, how would that manifest? because the most important part of salaar isn't that varadeva are tied together by fate. it's that they will always choose each other. so i had to stay true to that, and i wondered how it would affect the twenty five years they spent apart.
so initially, there were two scenes i had in mind:
• one of varadha's presentation (which is the fifth chapter i mention in the tags) and
• what happens in jail before the voting (can't say too much for risk of spoilers, lol)
BUT the concept snowballed and gained exposition and plotlines, so yes, to answer your question, this will be a longer fic with the way things are looking
there are parts i have written that are very dark (think: would require trigger warnings) so i'm debating on whether to include them and keep this authentic and raw, or to keep them out and make this a lighter experience (though, the angst will remain), so everyone: feel free to give me suggestions regarding that
also, the concept and setup for this fic is not at all what i had planned when i first started writing, (which is why it's taking time to move the chapters around and add sections as i figure out the best way to tell this story) – that's why s&o is a fic that i will gradually release while simultaneously working on other fics, just so i can make sure i give it the time it needs without losing patience oof
which also leads me to say: as i shift sections around, chapter five may not remain chapter five, and i honestly am not entirely sure as to when it will show up, but i do hope you enjoy the fic as i update
– rey <3
#it was really fun answering this. i adore sharing parts of the process#(but i never know what to share without a prompt so don't apologize anon! thank you)#salaar#sandalwood and ozone#varadeva
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Before I Leave You (Pt.65)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.
Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,
W/c: 15.0k
A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.
The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.
Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.
God does she know it.
She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.
Red is better color.
She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.
But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.
She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.
Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.
She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.
She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.
“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”
Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.
Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.
A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.
Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.
“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.
She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.
Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.
She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.
Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.
She sighs. Alphas and their messes.
In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.
Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.
That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.
She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.
She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.
The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.
He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.
Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.
This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.
Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.
She looks at the flame, sparking.
“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.
Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.
She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.
This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.
And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.
Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)
She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”
“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.
“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”
~-~
(Now, Namjoon)
Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.
It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.
He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.
No.
Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.
Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.
He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.
He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.
Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.
The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.
There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.
"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.
It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.
This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.
If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.
Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.
Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-
Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.
They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.
Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.
He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:
Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).
It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.
"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.
"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.
"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.
He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.
Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.
"I need you to promise."
Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.
"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"
"Just promise."
"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.
"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."
"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.
"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."
Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.
“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.
“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.
Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.
Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.
“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”
It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.
“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."
Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.
It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.
Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.
Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.
He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.
Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,
Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.
You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.
Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers.
He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.
Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)
You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.
But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.
You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.
Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.
To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.
He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.
Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.
An alpha. An alpha hunting.
You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.
He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.
His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.
His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.
“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.
“I mean it. Never.”
He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.
“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.
After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.
Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.
“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.
Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.
He's never going to hurt you. He promised.
He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.
You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.
But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.
“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"
Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."
"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"
"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."
"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"
Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."
You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.
"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."
"What the fuck-"
Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"
Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"
There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually.
You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.
You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.
"Shit are you okay?"
"Pup?"
"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.
Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.
"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.
When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.
"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."
"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.
"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."
Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.
"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."
You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.
You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”
“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.
Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.
If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.
“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”
Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.
“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.
"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”
Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.
“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."
You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."
Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”
“Oh my god daisy-”
You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."
Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”
Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”
"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.
"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“
Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”
“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.
“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."
You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."
Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."
“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.
The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."
Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.
"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"
Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.
You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"
“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."
The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.
Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.
Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.
“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”
Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.
He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.
“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”
Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.
“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”
“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"
“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.
Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."
Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.
Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.
"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."
Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.
"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.
Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"
Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."
"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."
"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."
"You mean-"
"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."
"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"
“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”
You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."
"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."
Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.
Maybe if he had, things would go differently.
A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."
Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”
Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.
"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.
“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“
"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.
You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.
“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”
(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)
Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”
You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”
“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."
"You've never said-"
Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."
You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.
You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.
You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.
“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"
You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”
Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.
“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"
There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.
Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.
Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.
To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.
The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.
Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.
Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.
Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.
To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.
But another woman? Even one like that?
Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.
It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.
But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.
Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.
By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.
~-~
(18 hours later, Jimin)
Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.
Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.
He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.
Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.
Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.
Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.
At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.
But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.
When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.
The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.
He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.
A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.
It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.
And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.
To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.
Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.
Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).
“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.
"Pup told me everything."
Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.
Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.
"It's okay,"
"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"
That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.
For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.
But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.
Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).
In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.
Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.
It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.
Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."
"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"
Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.
(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).
It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.
It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.
How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.
They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.
Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.
“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”
Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."
It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.
“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”
“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.
Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.
Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"
"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).
“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”
Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."
“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.
"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”
“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”
Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.
“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.
"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”
She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.
“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”
Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.
It stays there.
~-~
The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:
There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.
Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.
There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.
The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.
“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.
Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.
But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.
Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.
They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.
Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.
The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;
Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.
Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.
Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.
Once they're gone, other promises get made:
“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”
“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”
“I can ask some of my contacts-“
“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”
“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”
“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”
In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.
"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.
"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.
(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)
You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.
They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.
It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.
“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.
Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"
"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-
"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).
“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.
"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”
“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.
There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.
The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."
You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.
“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.
He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.
“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.
Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.
“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.
“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”
“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”
You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”
But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.
What's more intimate? Sex or murder?
He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.
“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.
Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.
You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.
No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.
"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.
You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.
Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.
You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.
Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.
The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.
It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.
Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.
“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.
You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.
“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.
You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.
Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.
Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”
Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”
“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.
that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.
the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.
It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.
“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.
Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.
It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.
Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.
"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.
You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."
Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"
You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."
Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.
If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.
But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"
You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.
"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.
He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.
There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.
"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.
You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.
"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.
Probably.
"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)
“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”
"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.
You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.
Noodle stops his chomping.
The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.
You freeze where you stand.
The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.
And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.
Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.
It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.
Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.
You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.
Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.
Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.
The danger is all in your head.
Only it's not,
Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.
~-~
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Notes:
There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.
in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.
i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.
on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?
this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.
when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.
it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.
Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3
In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.
although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!
i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.
i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.
i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?
i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.
oh~ shits about to go down~
Mini-Playlist
Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)
Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)
JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)
Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).
#bts omegaverse au#bts a/b/o#bts x reader#bts poly au#bts gang au#bts mafia au#bts polyamory au#bts au#bts fluff#bts hurt/comfort#bts werewolf au#bts angst bts omegaverse fic#bts hybrid fic#min yoongi fic#kim namjoon fic#kim seokjin fic#kim taehyung fic#park jimin fic#jeon jungkook fic#jjk#pjm#myg#knj#kth#ksj#jhs#jung hoseok fic#min yoongi x reader#kim namjoon x reader#kim seokjin x reader
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Sixteen
Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.
Chapter summary: getting closer with the pack means you'll have to learn to live with Kim Namjoon.
Warnings: drinking, breaking things, yknow namjoon stuff.
WC: 7.6K
After both your heats, you and Hoseok were nearly inseparable. When you were home, you followed him around like a little puppy, and he absolutely adored it. He appreciated how well you had taken care of his home and everyone in it while he was off his feet. When he told you as much, you assured him that it was your pleasure, and you would gladly do any chores he needed from you.
But your housework wasn't the only thing Hoseok had come to love.
You had become his new favorite cuddle buddy, much to your tiny pack's annoyance. Any time he could get his arms around you, he'd have you settled right against him with a proud smile on his face. And you certainly weren't complaining. You'd never known that omegas' cuddles were the best. Soft and warm and sweet smelling. Being held by Hobi was bliss. You wouldn't admit it to anyone, but you felt a bit of jealousy every time you scented Jin's sweet, nutty smell on Hoseok's skin, knowing that he had gotten to hold your omega all night long.
It wasn't until you came home from work one afternoon a few weeks after your heat and Hobi pulled you onto the couch, insisting you take a nap, that you realized something was different. You could still smell the light fragrance of Hoseok's body wash, so you knew he'd showered a few hours ago. But he smelled like praline pecans. Nutty like Seokjin, and different from Hoseok normal brown sugar. A new blend of the two.
"I'm going to stop working," you said suddenly.
He pulled back so he could look down at your face. "That would be great, but why so sudden?"
You shrugged and nestled back into his chest. "I just want to help you here more. It seems kind of silly to be cleaning for other people when I should be here cleaning with you."
He couldn't argue with that. Yoongi had told him about how you had called their house your home after your last heat, and it made his heart soar. He certainly wasn't going to deny you the domestic bliss he had always wanted to share.
"I like the sound of that," he murmured into your hair. "I would love to keep you here."
You were anxious to tell Yoongi about your decision, but when he got home he looked stressed and dejected. His shoulders hunched in a way you hadn't ever seen before. Seeing him look so weary made your heart ache. You approached him quietly as he took off his shoes in the entryway.
When you took his hand, one look into your sympathetic doe eyes was all it took to bring a genuine, lighthearted smile to his face. Somehow, one look from you and your tiny hands around his large one manifested energy from thin air. He pulled you closer and cradled you against his chest. Silent, except for a soft happy rumble in his chest, he held you like that for several minutes, but you wouldn't move for all the world, content to gently sway in his arms.
"Was it a bad day?" You asked softly. He hummed. "Come sit down, and I'll get you something to eat," you told him as you pulled away, ready to take his hand and guide him down the hall to the kitchen. But he pulled you back, unready to allow so much space between you. He picked you up by the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up, leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms and legs around him.
"In a minute," he mumbled into your neck, where he took deep breaths of your scent, allowing it to fill his lungs and soothe his nerves.
You complied and let him carry you to the couch as if you were no more than a child. Even if he was tired, holding you was nothing, not compared to the benefits.
"What happened?" you pressed gently after a moment.
"Nothing, really." He didn't need to burden you with the DOA he'd had today. Car crashes could cause such carnage, and he didn't need you to think of that. "I asked my supervisor if I could switch to a permanent day shift, but he denied me," he said after a moment of toying with your hair between his fingers.
"Oh. Why did you want to change?"
"I was hoping it would allow me to spend more time with you," he admitted. "I hate that I'm not able to see you. One of us is always working."
"Oh." A smile tugged at your lips and you cleared your throat. "Well, actually, I was thinking…" He lifted your chin gently with his fingers to see your eyes and waited for you to go on. "I want to quit my job. I-if that's okay."
"Really?" He asked excitedly as he pushed you away to look at your face better.
"Yeah, if it's not a problem," you answered quietly.
Yoongi pulled your hips tighter against him. "Of course it's not a problem! I was never going to tell you to quit, but I was always hoping you would. But why now? Did something happen at work?" His expression turned serious in an instant.
You shook your head. "No. Work is fine. I just feel like it's time to help Hobi out. And I can take care of you and Jimin. You're my pack after all."
"We don't expect you to cook and clean for us, princess," he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Even though he meant it, he felt his heart flutter knowing you might want to.
"But it's my job."
"It isn't. That's not why we want you here. It's not why we're keeping you around. It never will be." His tone was serious. His eyes looked intently into yours. Heat flushed all over your body, and you tried to backtrack.
"I know that, Yoongi. I actually wasn't thinking that way, which is kind of funny because normally I would. This isn't a-take-care-of-alpha-before-he-throws-you-out thing. I just care about you and I think about taking care of you a lot. Want to know if you're eating well and sleeping well."
Yoongi's smile returned, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against your cheek. "Good. That makes me more happy than you'll ever know."
"Aish. I'm not really doing it for you," you teased. "I want to stay home and help Hobi."
"Ah, yes, you're new BFF," he teased back. "That's fine. I'm sure he'll be happy."
You nodded. "I'll put my two weeks notice in tomorrow."
"Why bother? Just quit. You're never gonna need another job again." He grasped the back of your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless.
"Aren't you gonna eat something?" You asked hazily, a long moment later.
"Yeah," he grinned. "I'll eat you,"
"No!" You screamed amid your giggles as he playfully tried to bite your neck, tickling your sides at the same time. When you were gasping for breath, he scooped you up in his arms again and carried you into the kitchen. He set you down to sit on top of the kitchen counter.
"I'll fix something for you," you told him as he walked toward the refrigerator.
"You stay," he ordered as he looked inside. "Did you cook this?" he asked, showing you a container of the leftovers from the evening's dinner. You nodded. "Then your work here is done," he said before placing the meal in the microwave.
"I heard the sound of a happy pup," Jimin said as he entered the kitchen. You blushed when he stood beside you. He had been sitting in the pack's nest with Namjoon and Jungkook when they heard your screams and laughter. He wasn't the only one curious, but he was the only one who ventured out to see what was going on.
Yoongi beamed. "Y/N has decided to quit her job and stay home."
"Oh, good thing you made that choice before Taehyung started courting you," Jimin responded slyly.
"What do you mean? Court me?" You stared at him in confusion.
Yoongi nodded. "It's true. He asked me for my blessing already. I told him I don't mind. He said he's going to take it slow, not jump into anything. But now you'll have plenty of time to get to know each other." Yoongi wriggled his eyebrows.
Your voice caught in the back of your throat. Too many feelings swirled deep in your stomach, and you couldn't parse them out. "You don't mind?" you finally asked.
Yoongi gave you a soft smile and lifted your face to meet his eyes. "As much as I love our little pack, I've always known it wouldn't always be the three of us. I mean, I hoped. There's no rush, but I think some day it will probably be all eight of us. And that will be great, too."
You tried not to think about that possibility too often. It made your head spin. Seven packmates. Four alphas. You weren't sure you could handle it. "But I only want you to be my alpha. If Jin–" you cut yourself off abruptly.
"If Jin what, princess?"
"If Jin wants to claim me, won't he be my pack alpha? But I only want you to be my pack alpha!"
Yoongi couldn't bear how childlike you sounded. It made his heart hurt to hear you so anxious and confused. He smoothed a hand over your hair and pulled your head to his shoulder.
"It's okay, baby. Jin will never be your pack alpha. I'll always be your number one. You really think I'd let anyone take my place in your heart?" he cooed.
"What are you so worried for?" Jimin chided. "Who's talking about Jin? It's just Taehyung right now. He's a great alpha. You'll see."
You sniffed and pulled away from Yoongi when the microwave beeped. "Why did you say it was good I'm quitting my job because of him?"
Jimin smirked. "Taehyung could never allow his omega to work outside the home."
"Why not?"
"One, it's too dangerous. It would drive his anxiety crazy. Best to keep omegas safe in the den. Two, it would hurt his pride. He makes more than enough money to support you and Hobi all on his own. And three, Taehyung may have the disposition of a golden retriever, but even the sweetest dogs don't like strange dogs looking at their bones." Jimin grinned deviously.
You pushed his shoulder. "I'm not a bone!"
"Oh, yeah? Just wait until he starts gnawing on you!" Jimin picked up your arm and pretended to bite it much like Yoongi had before, and again, you thrilled them both with your shrieks and giggles.
While the days got longer and hotter with more sunlight, it seemed that each workday dragged on slower than they ever had before. You were diligently waiting your two weeks, but by the time you were nearly there, you wished you'd taken Yoongi's advice to just quit. You were aching to be at home every minute you were gone, and that was a feeling you had never known before.
When Yoongi brought you home on your next to last day of work, you walked into something you'd never seen at the house before. It was something of a party atmosphere, and they were all celebrating the end of the school year alongside Namjoon. Jin and Jimin had yet to return home, but Jungkook and Namjoon had beers in hand, chatting cheerfully at the kitchen table while Taehyung put out snacks on the counter. You walked carefully past them to wash your hands before you sidled up beside Hoseok where he was forming beef patties between his delicate hands.
"Hamburgers for dinner?" You asked.
Hoseok smiled down at you and gestured to the side with his head. "You can slice those onions and tomatoes," he told you before you could ask to help.
When the rest of the pack came home, you all accompanied Hobi outside on the patio while he grilled the burgers. Yoongi anxiously held you back from getting too close to the flames, nervous you might hurt yourself. The afternoon was lovely, and you all decided on eating outside to enjoy the spring weather. You spent most of the time clinging to Yoongi, either in his lap or next to him, holding his hand. He didn't mind in the slightest, nor did he mind the jealous looks he received from Taehyung, who tried to make the both of you jealous by fawning over Jimin. All of them were oblivious to the true reason for your clinginess.
Namjoon tended to stand quietly on the fringes of Seokjin's pack. His status was never in question, and he didn't shy away from sharing his thoughts and feelings, but whenever you were all together, he simply allowed others to take center stage. But tonight was different. Tonight was his celebration for another completed school year, and he felt no need to stay to the side and listen to others. For once, he dominated the majority of the conversation, discussing funny memories from the school year and a few complaints he usually tried to swallow. As the night grew longer and he drank more, his voice boomed louder across the large backyard and you pressed yourself closer to Yoongi.
When it got dark and the air turned chilly, everyone moved back into the kitchen. You were exhausted, but decided to help clean up before you tried to excuse yourself to go to bed. Everyone was having a good time, all of them drinking a little even though you didn't, and you didn't want to bring the mood down, but you were growing tired. When you finished washing the dishes you went to stand by Yoongi, who was laughing heartily to the story that Namjoon was telling. You could wait a few more minutes, but you didn't really want to go to bed alone, and you didn't want to miss out, listening to all their laughter from your room while you sat alone. As Namjoon continued his story, he gestured wildly with his hands. The condensation on the beer bottle made it slick, and the brown glass suddenly flew out of his hand, whizzing past your head in a blur. You were hiding under the counter by the time the glass hit the wall, shattering to pieces and dumping its liquid all over the floor. Shards of class popped around the room as you buried your head in your knees and covered yourself with your arms. A scream built in your throat, but you knew better than to let it out.
Don't scream. Don't scream. It'll only be worse if you scream.
The whole room went silent and motionless for two seconds as they registered what happened. Then at once everything was in motion. Yoongi got out of his chair to check if you were alright, but Taehyung was quicker. He didn't take a moment to ask how you were or assess the damage. He simply gathered you into his arms and lifted you off the ground, careful not to bang your head on the granite countertop. He carried you directly up the stairs and to your room, with Yoongi behind him and Jimin bringing up the rear.
In the kitchen, the remaining two alphas stood, frozen in shock, but Hoseok didn't waste any time putting on shoes and grabbing the broom.
"Hobi, let me," Namjoon tried to say, reaching for the broom when he finally came out of his stupor.
The omega pulled away. "I got it. You stay over there until I get this all cleaned up. There's lots of glass."
The flat, subdued tone of his voice hurt Namjoon as much as the way Hobi wouldn't look at him. "It was an accident," he whispered.
"We know that, Joonie," Jungkook assured him with a light smile. "It's not like it's the first time you've broken something around here. It's just…" His eyes drifted toward the stairs.
"I would never throw something at her," Namjoon defended.
"I know, babe, I know. But she doesn't. It's natural for her to be scared. Don't take it too personally. She's just skittish," Jungkook tried to convince him.
Hoseok felt a tug of war within himself. He was usually always the first one to comfort Namjoon when he accidentally broke something or made a mess. But now he really wanted to check on you, to make sure you weren't hurt or scared. He wanted to hold you in his arms, but he knew if he ran off with the others it would hurt Namjoon, and he knew that it wasn't really his fault. Namjoon was just clumsy, some might say cursed. He never meant to cause chaos, but he did anyway. You would get used to it, eventually, but right now the omega could understand perfectly why you were afraid Namjoon might hurt you without even intending to. His head swirled with competing worries as he swept up the glass and dumped it into the trash can.
"Are you hurt?" Yoongi asked as Taehyung set you down at the edge of your nest. He shouldered the younger alpha out of the way to examine you. You were still too stunned to answer, but it didn't really matter; Yoongi was going to look over every available inch of you regardless. He gently tilted your face this way and that to make sure it was unscathed before he moved onto your arms, lifting and twisting each in turn to ensure your skin was unharmed. There was a small cut on your forearm and he frowned. It wasn't even from the incident that had unfolded moments before. It was from work earlier today, and the blood was already dry—you hadn't even felt it at the time.
"Jimin, go get the first aid kit from the bathroom," he instructed, holding your arms carefully.
Feeling Yoongi's steady hands on you helped to ground you and bring you back to your body, out of your shock and panic. You took in a deep breath and breathed out, "I'm okay."
Jimin shuffled back into the room carrying the first aid kit and handed it to Yoongi. The alpha plucked out an alcohol pad and ripped open the packet with his teeth, spitting out the torn piece.
"It's gonna sting," he whispered, but you didn't react as he swiped it over your skin. "It's dry." You looked down to the very minor wound he was tending to.
"That was from work. It's fine," you told him, but he didn't seem to hear you. He had already taken a bandage from the kit—neon pink—and gently but firmly pressed it over your cut. "Yoongi?" He looked up into your eyes and you could see his own were full of worry. He shrugged.
"It makes me feel better."
You cracked a genuine smile and it lifted some of the weight off his chest.
"Are you sure you're okay, sweet little?" Taehyung asked. His hands were still shaking from the course of adrenaline when he thought you were in danger.
You nodded. "I'm okay. I was just scared. I'm not hurt."
"You shouldn't be scared at home," he replied.
"Come sit with me," you said softly, patting the spot next to you. Your heart ached to see how distressed he was over you. Taehyung lowered his head and came to sit near you, not quite in your nest, but just outside of it. When he got close you realized something the rest of them hadn't. They'd been too worried about you to assess their own well-being.
"Tae, you're covered in beer."
He had been standing closest to where the bottle had hit the wall and, as a result, had gotten sprayed with the contents as well as some glass.
"You're bleeding," you added. "Yoongi, your patient is right here."
Your alpha smiled weakly at how brave you were trying to be. He could tell by the way you were still shaking that you weren't as calm as you pretended to be, but he would talk to you about it in a little while when things settled. For now he turned to Taehyung. Without a word, he began to clean the man's wound, and you held his hand while he winced through the burn on the alcohol. You pulled a neon pink bandage from the box beside you and handed it to Yoongi to apply.
"Now we match," you told him, and it brought a bright, boxy smile to Taehyung's face.
"Why are you the one comforting me?" He asked, bumping your shoulder.
"Why don't you go clean up and get changed? Then maybe you can come cuddle me in the nest?" You offered. "If you want to," you added quickly.
Taehyung nodded enthusiastically. "Be right back," he said before scurrying out of the room.
"Yoongi, you need to go downstairs and see if everyone is okay down there," you told him.
He growled softly, mumbling, "They can take care of themselves."
"Alpha," you cooed, reaching out to touch his cheek, "don't be like that." He pouted for a moment, but nodded and gathered the pieces of trash from his work before he took the first aid kit downstairs.
"What about me?" Jimin stood proudly in front of you, fists in his hips, waiting for his instructions.
"You come cuddle me until the others come back." He didn't waste a second, shucking off his pants and shirt. You'd gotten used to the fact that Jimin preferred to sleep only in boxers. Who were you to force clothes on him if he slept better without? After your heat, it had ceased to make you the slightest bit uncomfortable. He quickly climbed onto the bed, wrestling you into the nest and underneath his body, where he could get the upper hand on you and make the last of our distressed scent disappear as quickly as it had come.
When Yoongi reached the bottom of the steps, Namjoon turned anxiously to look at him. He was cleaning the last of the beer off the wall, looking rather like a pup with his tail between his legs. This was hardly a rare scenario for him, cleaning up his own mess no matter how Hobi tried to tell him to leave it. It wasn't the first glass he'd broken nor the first drink spilled. Namjoon was a walking disaster. He knew that. It couldn't be helped, and everyone knew that, too. But normally, everyone would stick around to help and cheer him up and comfort him when he made a silly mistake like this. This time, half his pack had disappeared up the stairs with you, and he couldn't help feeling a bit hurt about it. He regretted it. He always did, but he couldn't take it back, and he just couldn't change. He opened his mouth to explain to Yoongi, but nothing came out.
"Is she hurt?" Hoseok asked from the sink, after Yoongi and Namjoon had stared at each other for several tense seconds. Yoongi's face was a cold mask of stone, revealing nothing but disdain. Namjoon looked utterly crestfallen.
"She's not hurt. Just scared," Yoongi answered, shaking his head when he finally broke eye contact with Joon.
"That's a relief," Namjoon sighed, and his face showed his relief was real.
"Taehyung got cut up a little bit," Yoongi said sharply. It was petty, but he didn't want the younger alpha to feel as if there was no harm done, and he didn't expect Namjoon to care that you'd been shaken up.
"Is it bad?" Jin asked, looking concerned.
Yoongi shook his head again. "I patched him up. Y/N invited him into her nest to make him feel better, I think." He paused for a second, thinking about your behavior. "She sent me down here to see if anyone was hurt."
"We're all fine, Yoongi. Come have a seat," Jungkook replied, pulling out the chair beside him.
"I should go back to her."
"Yoongi." Jin's voice wasn't raised, but it was loud and firm enough to have Yoongi freezing as he turned away. He hugged the first aid kit to his stomach and dropped his chin. "I'm sure Jimin and Tae are taking perfectly good care of her. Come sit for a minute."
Yoongi hated the way it felt like he was in trouble, when he knew he had no reason to be. He hadn't gone and ruined a perfectly nice evening, or spooked his very nervous omega. But he turned and walked slowly to the table to sit anyway.
"You know it was an accident," Jin said calmly.
"I know," Yoongi answered curtly.
"Just let him apologize." Jin's voice was the slightest bit pleading, as if he were desperate to avoid more conflict between his alphas.
"I really am sorry, Yoongi. I would never–"
"You don't need to apologize to me," Yoongi interjected. "I'm not angry. Maybe if she'd been hurt…but I know you can't control your body. You've never been able to. I get that. But she doesn't know. She's terrified you will hurt her, just by accident. And with you accidents are bound to happen."
"I–" Namjoon began, but the other alpha didn't let him finish.
"Do you know how it hurts me to see her afraid? After all the horrors in her life, I only want to keep her from feeling afraid. I don't just want her to be safe. I want her to feel safe. And if she can't then we…If she can't feel safe with you…" The look of pure devastation on Yoongi's features hurt Namjoon more than any other thing could have.
"What can I do, Yoongi? Tell me. I'll make it right," he begged.
Yoongi sighed, desperate to keep himself together. "If you and her are going to live in the same house…if you're going to spend the whole summer together, you have to try to be gentler. Please try."
Namjoon reached across the table to lay his hand over Yoongi's where he clutched the kit still.
"I will try. I promise. I'll be more careful," Namjoon assured him. Yoongi merely nodded silently, unsure if that would be enough to settle all your nerves about the pack's largest alpha. As if he could read Yoongi's mind, Jin cleared his throat.
"I think, maybe, Y/N might feel a little more comfortable with us if she could see that you're comfortable with us," he suggested quietly. Yoongi's eyes flickered to the pack alpha's and then back to his hands.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Jin sighed, "you're still holding us at arms length. I get maybe you still want to punish us for what we've done. I don't want to tell you how to feel or to get over it. But how could she ever trust us if she knows you don't?"
"She'll come to her own conclusions,"Yoongi mumbled.
"So you admit that you still don't trust us? You're still angry with me?" Jin sounded frustrated, but Yoongi could hear that really he was just heartbroken. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, knowing that his distance was hurting Jin. He wasn't really angry anymore. He hadn't found the time or energy to be angry. Any spare thought he had went directly to you. Maybe it was unfair, because he knew clearly in this moment that he still carried plenty of love in his heart for Jin and Namjoon.
"I'm not angry," he answered. "I just don't know what you want me to do. I've stayed. I've brought her here—sometimes against my better judgment—I don't know what I'm meant to do to fix things. They just have to heal in their own time." He shrugged.
"But how can they when this is the longest conversation we've had in weeks?"
"I don't know, Jin. It's just not my priority right now!" Yoongi snapped.
"Okay!" Hoseok interjected, coming closer to the men seated at the table for the first time. He'd been hesitant to interfere in the alphas' problems, but he knew both men well enough to see they were on the verge of saying things they didn't mean and would regret later. As soon as he approached, Jungkook's linen scent fluffed through the room, easing away the alphas' tension. "It's all okay. We don't have to solve it all tonight. It's late, and I think we should all just go to bed. Hm?" Hoseok put his hands on Jin's shoulders and gave a squeeze, satisfied when his shoulders relaxed.
"Yeah, fine," Yoongi answered. He stood quickly, scraping the box along the table before he picked it up and moved toward the stairs. He didn't want more conflict. He wasn't trying to prolong their distance. But it was impossible not to want to keep them away when he wanted so badly to be close to you, and to keep you safe.
Yoongi stopped in the bathroom, relieved to hear the giggles of you, Jimin and Taehyung coming through your door. After tucking the first aid kit back into its spot under the sink, he brushed his teeth. Hoseok met his eyes in the bathroom mirror when he stopped outside your door, but neither said a word before the omega slipped into your room to see for himself that you were unharmed. Yoongi remained quiet when he joined the four of you. Jimin had managed to get you into a pair of pajamas and your hair was an adorable disaster from being rolled around in your nest. You'd settled now between Jimin's legs with your back to his bare chest, your attention on Hoseok until Yoongi walked in, but you only spared him a glance. He wondered if even Jimin could tell how hard you were forcing your smile and your happy scent. Had he noticed that your eyes lacked the shine they usually got when the beta scented you silly?
"Come to bed so these kids can get to sleep," Hoseok said to Taehyung while Yoongi changed into his pajamas.
Taehyung whined softly. He'd only just been invited into your nest, and he wasn't ready to leave it already.
"Go on, Tae. Joon needs to know you're not upset with him," Yoongi encouraged quietly.
"Maybe I am," Taehyung mumbled. Hoseok reached for his hand and took it into his lap.
"You know he can't help himself, Tae. Give him a break, okay?"
The alpha grumbled wordlessly, but you nudged him with your foot.
"Go on, Tae Tae. I will be okay. My alpha is here." Taehyung's low rumble turned into a real growl, but you knew it was playful.
"Two alphas are better than one."
"Three are better than two!" Hoseok added. He stood from the edge of the bed and tugged on the youngest alpha's hand to come along. Tae allowed himself to be dragged off the bed, but pulled back to give you one kiss on the top of your head.
"See you tomorrow, sweet little. Sleep tight," he murmured, and then he was gone.
Closing the door, Yoongi turned off the lights before crawling into bed beside you.
"Goodnight," Jimin said, leaning over you to kiss Yoongi, making sure you got properly squished in the process.
"Goodnight," you whispered with a giggle when you received your own kiss.
You said nothing to Yoongi as the two of you cuddled together. Your head laid on his chest, listening to his slow, steady heartbeat as the house slowly went silent. You laid there, but didn't close your eyes, and Yoongi watched you without saying a word. You let the minutes stretch on until you'd been there for almost half an hour.
"How come you aren't sleeping?" you asked softly.
"You aren't sleeping either," he replied. You shifted slightly without moving away and traced his stomach with your fingertips.
"It's hard for me to sleep without your snoring." You felt his chest rise and fall with a huff and looked up to see his gummy smile for just a moment. Then he looked down at you seriously.
"You don't have to pretend for me. You don't have to pretend for anyone, but especially not me." You shifted again, but this time he could tell you were putting space between you.
"I don't know what you mean."
Yoongi grasped your wrist gently before you could move away from him. There wasn't far to go before you would run into Jimin, but he could only bare for you to move as far as it would take for you to look at him eye to eye. He rolled over and scooched down so his gaze was level to yours.
"You don't need to act as if Namjoon didn't scare you. You're still scared now. I don't think I can convince you that you're safe right now, but you are. I'm right here."
Your chest tightened at his words. You whispered, "I know," but it didn't stop your eyes from watering. Yoongi gathered you close, pressing you into his chest.
"I'm so angry."
"It was an–"
"I'm angry with myself. I shouldn't have brought you here." He felt you try to pull away, ready to argue, but he held you tight. "I should have taken you somewhere else. The three of us could have gotten an apartment. Shouldn't have kept you here with such clumsy, stupid alphas." At this point he sounded as though he was talking to himself, mumbling out the thoughts he'd been repeating in his head for the last hour.
"It's okay, Yoongi. I didn't get hurt," you tried to tell him.
"But you got scared, and that's just as bad in my eyes." You managed to pull away from him enough to look up at his face and touch his cheek. "You're still shaking. Do you think I can't feel that? Jimin and Tae scented you, but you didn't feel safe enough to let yourself get all dopey. Do you even realize? I can't stand this, and I hate that you're pretending just so we don't feel bad."
"Yoongi," you frowned and stroked your thumb over his cheekbone. "I'm not pretending because of that. I'm trying to be brave because I want to stay. Namjoon terrifies me, but I like it here. I like living with Hobi and Tae…and you and Jimin here. I'm still scared, but not enough to leave. So let me pretend, okay?" Yoongi sighed, a sign he wasn't accepting this yet. "I may not feel completely safe, but I feel happy. I'm like a stray dog. I may never feel safe, not completely. I might always be a little jumpy. But that doesn't mean I don't love my new home, or that it's not a good home."
Yoongi laughed almost silently and buried his head in your neck. "Don't call yourself a stray dog."
"That's what I am," you replied, combing your fingers through his hair. "I came up to you with big puppy eyes and asked you to stay."
"That's definitely not how it happened," he mumbled. But when he pulled you closer and inhaled your scent, you couldn't help smiling.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he breathed as he relaxed against the nest at last.
"I know," you replied. "So I think we can sleep now."
"Go ahead. I'll watch over you."
Your last shift ended fairly well. The library staff even brought donuts to wish you well. A couple of them who were betas even confessed that they were glad to hear you had settled in with a pack and would be staying home, because they often worried about you. You waited outside the library at your usual spot, pacing and checking your phone as minutes ticked by and terrible thoughts began to creep in.
What if they got into some kind of accident?
What if they dont want you, after all?
Just as you began to spiral into your worst thoughts, a familiar vehicle pulled up abruptly in front of you. Although you'd never ridden inside of it, you could still recognize Namjoon's blue volvo without looking at him, which you only did for the briefest of glances, just to be sure it was really him.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, sounding out of breath as if he'd run instead of driven here.
I wasn't waiting for you, is what you wanted to say, but you merely stood still and stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers.
"Um," he began awkwardly as he got out of the car without killing the engine and walked toward you until he was only a couple yards away. He scratched nervously behind his ear as he tried to start again. "I know you were expecting Taehyung, but he cut his foot on a piece of glass that wasn't cleaned up from last night, and Hobi took him to the emergency room about twenty minutes ago. Didn't they text you?"
You shook your head, remaining silent.
"Yeah…so I was the only other person home so…here I am." He looked anxiously at the car, like he wished you'd just get in and save him the embarrassment of standing here in front of you. "I promise, I'm a good driver. And we don't have to talk or anything, if you don't want to."
You stared at him for a moment longer before your tongue unglued itself from the roof of your mouth.
"Does Yoongi know about this?"
Namjoons throat felt like sandpaper, and he seemed to shrink an inch. He shook his head. "I tried to call him but he didn't answer. He must be busy."
You hadn't moved an inch since he arrived, and he couldn't help wondering if he was really that terrifying.
"I promise, Y/N, I'm not going to hurt you." The idea that you ever thought he would hurt him in a way he couldn't account for. He knew he wouldn't, but the idea that you couldn't believe that cut him deep. What would he do if you never learned to trust him? If you never let him close to you? It wasn't something he ever gave himself permission to want, so why did not having it wound him so? He shook his head clear of the questions. "You can sit in the back and pretend I'm just the chauffeur."
You lifted your chin in his direction and narrowed your eyes. "I think I'll just take the bus."
Namjoons eyebrows raised. You can't possibly think he's that scary, could you? But instead he used what he knew was the only way to convince you.
"Do you really think Yoongi would approve of that?"
Your jaw tightened. You knew he was right. Looking down at your phone, you hoped for a notification from Yoongi, but there was one from Hoseok instead. You swallowed thickly when you read it.
Sorry, pup! There was an emergency. Namjoon should be there to pick you up. I promise it will be okay.
"How do you know you'll take me home and not somewhere else?" You finally asked. Namjoon's eyes grew wide and he actually took a step back. He rubbed his hand over his hair as he tried to process your question.
"What makes you think I would do something like that? What did Yoongi say to you?" Your brow furrowed at the strange question.
"Yoongi didn't have to say anything for me to know you don't want me around," you answered, an edge of bitterness lacing your words. Namjoon nearly choked.
"Y/n, that isn't true."
"If it isn't then why didn't you ever tell yoongi where I was when you knew I worked here? You and Jin didn't want him to know. You don't want me in your pack. I get it. It's fine. But you should know that Yoongi does want me, and if I don't come home there's no telling what he'll do." You were surprised by the firmness of your own voice as well as how sure you felt of your own words. Yoongi did want you, and you knew that was as fierce an attachment for him as it was for you.
Namjoon took several full breaths before he responded. "Y/N, I promise you, all I'm trying to do right now is take you home. I won't lie to you. I didn't want you to become a part of our pack at first but things have…changed. You're a part of our lives now either way. And I wouldn't risk losing Yoongi over you. I never would. So please. Just come home with me," he begged. While the two of you maintained eye contact—for longer than you had ever done before—he fought the instinct to grab you and put you in the car if you continued to protest, but he knew that would only hurt his cause. Just when he was about to lose this staring contest to you, your phone began to ring with Yoongi's ringtone.
"Hello?" You answered, only dropping your gaze from the alpha in front of you for a moment.
"Princess, are you okay?" He asked, sounding out of breath from the way his heart was pounding.
"I think so," you mumbled.
"I got a message from Joon that he was going to pick you up." You narrowed your eyes on the man in question.
"Yeah, he's here." Yoongi sighed in relief. "What should I do? I can take the bus."
"No, princess. Just go home with him, okay? I promise everything will be fine."
"I'm scared," you said so softly that Namjoon couldn't hear it.
"I know, and I'm sorry, but you don't need to be. You'll be safe with him, and I'll feel better if you go with him than on your own. I've got your location on. If anything happens to you I'll be there as soon as possible. But you're going to be okay. Trust me?" It was that simple, really. If Yoongi was asking you to trust him, then you would. As long as Yoongi promised you'd be safe, you'd make yourself believe him. He wouldn't let you down.
"Fine."
"Good girl. I'll be home in a few hours and I'll give you a reward for being so brave." Your cheeks heated at his words, but you couldn't deny loving it when Yoongi sometimes treated you like a child. No one had ever treated you with such gentle care before, and it felt like real love.
"I'll be waiting." You hung up and looked at Namjoon again. He looked back expectantly. "Yoongi said to go home with you. So I guess that's that."
You walked around the vehicle to sit in the back passenger seat, as far from him as possible. Namjoon didn't say a word as you got inside his car and buckled yourself in. As he pulled away from the library, you kept your eyes out the window even though you could feel his gaze on you through the rear view mirror. He chewed nervously on his lip as he glanced back and forth between the road and the mirror, but he kept silent until he was on the main road between the library and the house.
"We should try to be civil, at least," he said at last, speaking as if you'd been privy to the conversation in his head instead of coming into the middle. You didn't respond, so he went on. "We're going to be home together a lot this summer, and it would be easier on everyone if we tried to ease the tension." He finished softly, perhaps knowing he sounded ridiculous to you.
"I'll do my best to keep out from under foot, if you try not to throw anything at me again."
Namjoon deflated with a sigh. "I swear it was an accident."
"That's why I said try."
"I'm just clumsy. I never meant to hurt you."
"Do you honestly think I haven't heard every excuse in the book?" You rolled your eyes. "It just slipped. You ran into my fist. You really should be more careful where you're going."
"Y/N," Namjoon interrupted, trying hard not to become distressed as he drove, but honestly, your words were tearing him apart. Did you really have no idea the effect you had on him? "I'm sorry. I realize I haven't apologized to you directly for last night. I'm sorry for being so careless. I really will try to be more cautious. But I'm also sorry that other people have given you reasons not to trust them, or alphas, or me." He pulled to a stop at a red light and turned in his seat to look at you. "I get that you have no reason to trust me, and that I have to work for it. That's okay. I don't mind. But can you give me the benefit of the doubt and trust that Yoongi wouldn't have me in his life at all if you couldn't trust me?"
At last, you turned your head to look at him. "Why does everyone always pull the Yoongi card on me?"
"Because it always works," he smirked.
"Fuck," you muttered, because he was right. For whatever reason, you trusted Yoongi implicitly. And Namjoon had a point. Your alpha wouldn't have a dangerous person in his life, let alone trust them to be around you. So you merely nodded to his request, and the man turned forward just in time to see the light turn green before he drove you the rest of the way home.
A/n: I don't feel like this has been my best chapter, but I would love to hear your thoughts on it! Thanks for reading!
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#bts fanfic#bts abo#bts omegaverse#bts poly ot7#bts ot7 x reader#bts yoongi#bts hoseok#bts jin#bts taehyung#bts jungkook#bts jimin#bts namjoon#bts a/b/o#bts angst#bts fluff#bts au#bts x reader#bts fic#bts fan fiction#bts series#bts poly au#bts alphas#bts#lone wolf
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Borrowed Stars — Taejin Fanfic ❤️🩹
Summary:
After the raid of an illegal omega brothel, Taehyung is forced to take Seokjin home with him as a mate.
▫️ rated E 🔞
▫️ 40k+ words
▫️ abo, angst, hurt/comfort
#bts#kim taehyung#taehyung#taejin#bts fanfic#kim seokjin#bts fic#bts fanfiction#fanfiction#taejin fic#abo#abo au#mpreg#mpreg au#omega seokjin#omegaverse#alpha taehyung#alpha/beta/omega verse#angst#hurt/comfort#jin bts#bts jin#bts v#bts tae#bts kim taehyung
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BTS of fic writing: 4, 10, 13, 20
#4 and #10 already answered
13: Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?
Omegaverse. The way it’s evolved in the fandoms I’m in or around end up with a level of enforced gender essentialism that make my queer agender ass extremely uncomfortable.
20: What’s your favorite minor character you’ve written?
All of them I really like how Maria Hill evolved in Hands of Clay, from FRI profiler to Manhattan private security consultant. I did a bit of her backstory in chapter 32 of Hands of Clay, but just more of it.
I adore all of the pack in Hour of the Wolf (love those rascally kids). They’re great for comic relief and also tragic angst (upcoming).
And this is more of a niche one, but I really enjoyed how Sarah Carter (an OC, the lovechild of a non-aging Peggy Carter and Howard Stark) developed in Rhapsody in Blue – being able to see her grow and be a foil to Tony.... fun to write.
(from the Behind the Scenes of Fic Writing meme)
PS i have two more asks in my inbox from this meme but it's been a heck of a week; i'll get to them tomorrow
#asks#dahllaz#writing is hard#my writing#plz don't send hate about the answer to number 13#it's just a personal squick
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Fire with Fire [Prologue]
elite alpha bts kim line x elite omega named reader; abo / omegaverse
The Han Clan's power and distinction has long been deteriorating after decades of being unable to produce a true rare-breed omega. This changes as Han So, rare as you are, presents as a true omega. However, your fate has already been predestined— to infiltrate and destroy the domineering Kim Clan and their true rare-breed alphas.
Will you be able to fulfill your purpose?
Will you be able to keep up with your lies, deceit, and trickery, or will your walls start breaking down?
(angst / smut)
AN: first time writing an au ! might change the characters depending who my bias for the week is who knows 🥲 anw im just writing this for fun bc im in need of abo fics 🫶🏻
Prologue
Walking into the lion's den was never supposed to be easy. You knew this from the moment you presented, your family never once failing of reminding you of your monumental duty— your sole purpose. As you presented as the one true omega of the Hans, you were instantly seen by your family as the key and answer to relieve all their loathing and bitterness. It is as if you are a queen, one and only, but at the same time a pawn, ready to be dispensed, all for their game of revenge towards the Kims.
It has been drilled into your head that while you may have been born out of love from both of your equally fucked-in-the-head parents, you are also born out of spite for their enemies.
"Fuck this up once and your existence has been for nothing", your mother says to you as she kisses your right cheek, holding both of your shoulders. As much as you disdain her foxy eyes, slender figure, and dangerous cunningness, you realize liking them on yourself, mirroring them from your mother.
You smirk as you withdraw your cheek and move on next to hear your father's sweet, sweet words. "Don't bother coming back if you fail to succeed", his voice uninterested and monotonous, as if he haven't uttered words of your possible disownment. "Make all of the Alpha Kims bow before you and take back what's ours", he adds. Though you hate to admit it, you like his own version of encouragement— evil and ingenious.
You smiled as you fixed your gold high-slit dress, finally walking into the doors of the enemies you ought to destroy. 'Make all of them bow before you, one true omega.' You say to yourself one last time.
next
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I just read then whole of omegaverse and it has been one of the best ot7 fics out there. the storyline,the characters, the angst and smut and every single freaking thing in this story has my heart like tbh I can't believe a masterpiece like this exists. I just want you to know that this fic was the one which made me loose sleep in a sense I was like "one chapter more and then I'll sleep" and I couldn't rest until I finished it. You deserve so much more and I am so happy to know that you write and I came across your fic you have become my favourite author on this app. I have come across so many poly bts x reader fic like that is my favourite genre and you did it justice. I hope you take your creative break and when you are ready I would like to see how the story resumes ❤❤
You have no idea how this message makes me feel 😭❤️Thank you for taking the time to let me know how much you enjoyed HOTO 😭🤧 messages like this are what motivate me to post the things that I write because it makes me happy to be able to share what goes on in my head. Thank you for such a lovely message ❤️ HOTO 2 is at the back of my mind and one day I plan to continue it. I hope you show support with my other works too and I’m always open to hear comments that can help me write better. Please take care and saranghaeeee 💜💜💜
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