The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 8

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The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 8

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Jimin yawned as he sat up from the awkward angle that he fell asleep in. It had been another night of working for him. In his drunken stupor, he had gotten rid of his jacket and fell asleep in his shirt and pants.

“Hey, you.” Jimin said, sticking his head out the window to a maid that was cleaning the backyard.

“Young master Jimin.” She immediately stood up straight and bowed.

“Bring my breakfast to my room and an iced black coffee. I’ll be in the shower, leave it on my desk.” Jimin pulled his head back in and went to take a nice, hot shower. The smell of old alcohol and blood dissipated and was replaced with the smell of fresh soap.

“Exactly what I needed.” Jimin came out, a towel over his shoulder to prevent his dripping hair from wetting his shirt. He saw the tray of hot food and sat down to dig in.

“Chim? You’re up?” Taehyung poked his head into the room.

“Oh, Tae. Yeah... I just woke up. I didn’t get in until this morning.” Jimin blinked as he took a sip of the hot soup. That settled his churning stomach.

“I heard. Namjoon hyung said to expect that we will be more busy but we still have to try to lay low.” Taehyung groaned in annoyance, falling onto the back of Jimin’s bed, arms spread as he stared at the ceiling.

“Your informant is dead, by the way.”

“What happened?” Taehyung hoisted himself up onto his elbows to look at the back of his best friend’s head.

“Not sure. I went to the meeting point like you said. His body was already cold, waiting for me to find. He was probably ratted out by someone. The injuries look like a mafia’s execution style. His jaw was broken from someone stomping on the back of his head and a single gunshot wound right through the skull.” Jimin described.

“Damn, it’s getting harder to find good informants nowadays. Ones that actually stay hidden and anonymous. No biggie, I’ll just try to scout another person.” Taehyung clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“That’s what you get for having lackeys as your informants. Do they even get you anything useful?”

“They get me what I need underground, I guess. Plus, lackeys are easier to convert than long time workers.” Taehyung shrugged.

“Oh yeah. Apparently, there was a visitor to one of my clubs. They can’t describe the guy but someone handed my bartender this in the stack of bills during payment.” Jimin went to retrieve something from his jacket pocket.

“Hmmm.” Taehyung held the card.

“What does it mean?” Jimin asked as he sat back down to continue his meal. There was no reply, making him turn to his best friend. Taehyung was deep in thought, a slight frown on his face.

“Tae?”

“This card... It’s the Judgement card. The angel, sent by God, to judge who is eligible to enter heaven. Someone is going to declare a war soon and judgement will be upon us all, to decide who lives and who dies.” Taehyung spoke stoicly as he stood up.

“If Namjoon hyung asks, don’t tell him about the card yet. Until I can find out more.” He said to Jimin, who nodded his head.

“This message was meant for me. I don’t know why but to send a message in the form of a card...” Taehyung trailed off at the end of his sentence. Without another word, he left the room.

“I’m done with my food. You can clear my room now.” Jimin informed the butler when he emerged from his room.

“Yes, young master.” The butler bowed.

“Do you guys know where Namjoon hyung is?” Jimin asked Jungkook and Hoseok, who were engrossed on their video game, too busy trying to kill the other person’s character.

“He’s at the lab. Has some big meeting with the guys in the defense department of the government to work on some prototype or something.” Jungkook said.

“Oh.”

“He hasn’t been to the lab in forever things are all backed up there. They’re asking Namjoon hyung to consuilt and invest in their new chemical weapon testing.” He explained.

“He had a message for you. He said ‘give the note to Yoongi hyung’, whatever that means.” Hoseok added. Jimin hummed as an acknowledgement and went to find the second oldest. Yoongi was squinting at his piano book, trying to read the sheet music to play on his piano. He reached over to grab his crystal whiskey glass to take a sip.

“Yoongi hyung? It’s Jimin, I have something for you.” Jimin knocked on the door. Yoongi’s fingers stopped, resting on the black and white keys. He knew why Jimin was here, Namjoon had informed him prior.

“Come in.” He replied.

“Here. Namjoon hyung said to hand this to you.” Jimin took the folded paper out of his pocket and placed it on the piano.

“Thanks.” Yoongi took the paper and unfolded it, his eyes scanning the contents. Jimin tilted his head, he didn’t know what the names and numbers on the paper meant.

“What’s it for?”

“It’s a hit list. We’re not sure whose hit list it is but since the names are members of the same political faction, it’s obvious that there is some sort of political motive to get rid of them.” Yoongi explained.

“So what are we going to do?” Jimin asked.

“Protect the bigger names, kill the smaller ones before the actual hitman can get to them. Create confusion for the actual person that ordered the hit. You, Jungkook and I will be mobilised when the plan is in action.” Yoongi informed and Jimin nodded his head, understanding.

The three of them were the hitmen of the group. Of course, everyone knew how to wield a weapon but the three of them were usually responsible for the more violent missions.

“I won’t disturb you further. Bye.” Jimin waved and left. Yoongi watched the younger leave and shut the door.

‘I got the list from Jimin. It’s a big one. - Yoongi’

Namjoon looked at the text on his phone. He let out a sigh of relief, grateful for Jimin’s skills in retrieving the list. He put the device away and turned back to the defence minister.

“Of course, I trust that all this will be kept under wraps?” The minister turned to Namjoon.

“You’re the one that sought us out to invest in your little project, Mr Park. I should be the one concerned with the secrecy, not you. Don’t you think?” Namjoon chuckled. At the slight taunt in his voice, the defence minister’s guards stepped up but the old man held his hand up to stop him. He nodded in agreement with Namjoon.

“Definitely. Your investment and expertise will be a big help to the development and testing of our new prototype. The outsourced labs we’ve partnered with just isn’t cutting it.” The minister clicked his tongue.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to put them down. They do have the backing of the government and they know how to keep a good image in front of the public.”

“That’s true. But I know you will get me the results I want, Mr Kim.” The minister gave Namjoon a knowing smile.

“I look forward to working with you then.” He held his hand out.

“Not so fast.” Namjoon raised his eyebrow at the outstretched hand. The minister withdrew his hand, waiting for Namjoon to continue speaking. No way will Namjoon strike a deal that easily.

“I want the profiles of those working the team and prototype. Background checks. Can’t be too careless with potential moles working with other people.” Namjoon explained.

“Understandable. I will get my secretary to send them over to you.”

“You’ll get your contract signature after those profiles are looked over.” Namjoon said. The same guard from before stepped up.

“Someone’s a little on edge, isn’t he” Namjoon smirked with a slight tilt of the head.

“Forgive him, Mr Kim. He’s new to the job and doesn’t know how these things work. There’s no intention to disrespect.” The defence minister said. He turned to the guard, nodding over to Namjoon. That was the signal for him to bow and apologise to Namjoon.

“If that’s all, I look forward to the next time we speak. Maybe then, you’ll be a bit more accustomed to this.” Namjoon patted the guard’s shoulder, who stiffened up.

“Thank you for your time in seeing us. Hopefully, we get a good partnership out of this.” The defence minister shook hands with Namjoon.

“We’ll see.” Namjoon raised his eyebrows.

The car came to a stop and the worker jogged out, opening the car door for Taehyung. He sighed and came out, entering the shop. The receptionist stood up from her post and bowed deeply to him.

“Boss.” Two of Taehyung’s men stood up and bowed as Taehyung walked deeper into the store.

“We lost another informant yesterday. So either they’re not very good secret keepers or there is a mole amongst us, leaking out information on who the informants are.” Taehyung said, sitting down on his throne-like chair. All this was covered by the curtain separating the store front and the usual ‘consultation’ area of the shop.

“I want you all to find the mole. Go!” Taehyung barked. The two men nodded fearfully, bowing and running out of there.

“Tch.” Taehyung kicked his feet up onto the table, resting them on the purple velvet tablecloth. He took out the card that Jimin gave him earlier, spinning it between his fingers.

“Judgement day is coming.” He said quietly to himself.

RINGGGGGGG

“V’s Fortune Telling and Tarot Reading. How can I help you?... Do you have an appointment?... I understand, please hold.” Taehyung heard the receptionist answer the phone at the front of the shop. The receptionist poked her head behind to curtain, making Taehyung sit up.

“Boss. It’s for you.” She handed the phone over to Taehyung. It must have been a notable person for her to not handle the call herself like she usually does. He looked at the number and recognised it immediately.

“Mr President. I wasn’t expecting a call from you. How can I help?” Taehyung smirked as he spoke into the phone.

After passing the phone over, the receptionist immediately bowed out of the curtained area and walked to the front, turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and drawing the privacy curtains.

‘Hi, (y/n)! I’m apparently the only one with your number so I was asked to send you a message. Would you like to join my brothers and I for dinner tomorrow night? - Taehyung’

You drummed your fingers on your desk as you thought about what to reply, how were you supposed to craft your reply and you didn’t know if you wanted to say that you would go or not. Of course, your schedule was free, your plan was to just do university work. But did you want to go?

“Hey. You okay?” Wonwoo waved his hand in front of your face when he noticed you spacing out.

“Did you just run a marathon? You’re panting so heavily.” You chuckled, acting completely normal as you turned your phone screen to hide the message pop up from Taehyung.

“The dance teacher let us go late. I thought I wouldn’t have time to shower before coming.” He shook his head with a tired sigh.

“Because your performance evaluations are coming up?”

“Yeah. But I’m confident my team and I can do it. They’re all really talented and hardworking.” Wonwoo said.

“I’m sure you’re just as talented as they are, Woo. I haven’t seen you all perform before but I am sure you are all very good.” You smiled. You have seen Wonwoo rap, dance and play instruments before, he was really talented.

“Actually, tomorrow we’re having this small performance in the studio and students are welcomed to come watch. Sort of like rehearsal for us too. It’ll be after school at about 4pm. Are you free to come?” He asked. You thought back to the dinner plans that Taehyung just invited you for. Maybe you could go after watching Wonwoo.

“Sure. Save me a seat.” You nodded your head. Wonwoo smiled excitedly and gave you a thumbs up. The professor came in and began the class.

After class, you made sure to remember to text Taehyung back with your reply for tomorrow’s dinner plans. The plan was for you to be picked up from the university then get ready at their place before going for dinner.

‘Where will we be going for dinner? - (y/n)’

‘It’s a surprise so I can’t tell you. If you need the dress code, hmm… I would say dress smart casual. It isn’t too fancy. - Taehyung’

“That doesn’t help at all.” You sighed. Not because of the vague dress code but you wanted to do some research before the dinner. You wanted to know what to expect, in terms of behaviour and type of food.

‘Don’t worry too much. It’s just a casual dinner :) See you tomorrow! - Taehyung’

It was as if he knew exactly what you were fretting about. You were supposed to go home with Wonwoo but when you arrived at the front of the university, there were girls surrounding him, giggling and chatting about how excited they were to see him perform tomorrow.

“The bus it is.” You didn’t hold it against him. Even in high school, Wonwoo was very popular with the girls. There was no doubt that he was handsome and girls were always jealous of you being friends with him.

“Hey, (y/n). I’m at the front of the university. Where are you?”

“Oh, hey Wonwoo! I saw that you were busy so I decided to just take the bus home. I didn’t want to take you away from your friends.” You said as you tapped your card.

“I’m sorry, (y/n)... I promised to drop you home but those people just surrounded me. Where are you now?”

“No need to apologise, it’s fine. Really. I’m already on the way home.” You assured him.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You and Wonwoo bid each other goodbye before hanging up. While on the bus, you decided to look at the promotional announcements for your nearby supermarket. With everything you’ve been doing, the house was in serious need of some restocking. So instead of going home, you got off at the stop near the supermarket.

“Good evening.” You grabbed a cart and greeted the staff that were out restocking. You followed your list in picking up what you needed, both food and household items.

“Pasta.” You looked at all the shapes available on the shelf. Going to the shelf, you tiptoed to try and get the box down.

“Let me help.” Someone appeared behind you, reaching up to get the box.

“Thank you.” You received the box with a bow of your head. After he saved you the other night, you haven’t really spoken to him. You didn’t really know how he felt about you. Plus, you were a little awkward.

“What brings you here, Hoseok sshi?” You blinked.

“I was in the area for work. Stopped by to get our youngest some snacks.” He explained, gesturing to his basket of snacks.

“And (y/n)? Just call me Hoseok.” He smiled. You nodded your head, clearing your throat while looking away. You continued walking and Hoseok walked beside you.

“Do you mind me tagging along?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Do you usually end university at this time?” He tilted his head.

"No, it differs depending on the class and meetings after.” You replied. Hoseok grabbed what he needed and waited patiently for you, helping you carry the heavy stuff to load into your shopping cart. He didn’t really make an effort to force a conversation, which you were grateful for.

“I’m done.” You informed him. He nodded and you both headed for the cash register to pay for your items. Like the gentleman he was, Hoseok let you go first, even if you had more things.

“Here-”

“No. Please, these are my household stuff. I can pay for them myself.” You stopped him from giving his credit card over.

“Here you go. Thank you.” You handed your own card over to the cashier, who bagged everything up for you. As she bagged, you put the stuff bag into your cart to wheel out. Hoseok helped you while the cashier scanned his items.

“I’ll drop you home. It’ll be too heavy to carry everything and take the bus.” Hoseok offered.

“Thank you.” You shot him a small smile.

“Done. Let’s go.” Hoseok got his bags and you pushed the cart, following him to his car. Fortunately, Hoseok decided to drive a bigger car to work rather than one of the two seater sportscars.

Once everything was loaded, Hoseok began to drive back to your home. Unlike Taehyung, he listened to soft rap music in the car. You looked out the window at the setting sun and noticed people rushing after getting off work. Luckily Hoseok had bumped into you and was able to send you back. Or else you would have to carry everything in a crowded bus.

“Let me help you off load the items.” Hoseok said as he put the car in park outside your house.

“There’s no need! You’ve helped me more than enough. Even saving me from having to ride in a crowded bus with my things. Really, I appreciate it.” You shook your hands.

“It’s alright. Jungkook can afford to wait for his snacks. He won’t starve.” Hoseok laughed, grabbing the bags and walking up to your house. You quickly ran forward to unlock the door for him.

“You can just leave them here.” You pointed to the kitchen table.

“Thank you again, Hoseok sshi.” You bowed repeatedly once everything was brought into the house.

“Don’t keep thanking me, (y/n). It’s really no big deal. Also, I said to just call me Hoseok. Drop the formalities.” He smiled. His smile was rather infectious, making you smile too.

“I’m glad you’re not feeling awkward or uncomfortable with me after what happened last time. Because I want to assure you that I won’t judge or anything. It was a moment of vulnerability for you and I would never tease you over it.” Hoseok said.

“O-Oh... right... I was just feeling embarrassed by my reaction to it.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s normal to be scared. And I’m glad you could count on us, or at least Taehyung, to help you.” He said.

“It was the only person I could think of at that time. And I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if you guys didn’t come in time.” You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Don’t scare yourself.” He patted your shoulder and you nodded, relaxing immediately.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner?”

“Yes. I look forward to it.” You giggled. You walked Hoseok to the door, awkwardly waving and watching him drive off before heading back into the house to unpack the groceries.

~~

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi

Main masterlist

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 59)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi need to break each other one more time before you're ready to heal together. Hobi needs to leave.

Tags: Angst, implied self-harm, m/c tries but doesn't actually hurt herself, burns, gaslighting, triggers, PTSD, dissociation, depersonalization, hurt/comfort, fluff, lots of tears, confessions, severe depression, self-esteem issues, allusions to past sexual abuse, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, I promise it's not quite as angsty as it sounds,

W/c: 20.3k

A/N: this is the darkest chapter i've written of bily, but it's also probably the most hopeful one too <3 a lot of the more hopeful lines were inspired by those little fancy tik tok slideshows so i can't take complete credit. Don't hurt yourself with this though. Check the end of the chapter for some more notes!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

It takes three days for you and Jungkook to talk it out, and when you do- it’s mostly because of Hobi.

Hoseok's just coming home from work, his jacket bundled to his cheeks to keep out the cold. He’s surprised when it’s not just Noodle waiting for him on the front porch but you too lounging stubbornly on the outdoor furniture (if anyone could lounge stubbornly, you would manage too).

It's so fucking cold outside. It's hard to believe just a few weeks ago any of you left the house without thought.

Your hair's ruffled like you’ve been sleeping through the steady fall breeze, tempting Hobi’s fingers, covered with the biggest and thickest duvet that the pack has to offer. The living room curtains move; Yoongi's been watching you. He probably tried to convince you to nap inside, out of the cold.

Hobi can't help but agree; You’re unwilling to relinquish one of your favorite napping spots despite the crispy leaves gathering on the deck like dust bunnies. The blanket can't possibly be keeping you warm enough. Hobi makes his footsteps soft when he walks close. A vaguely disproved rumble builds in his throat and he pulls the blanket up higher, tucking it around your cheeks.

“Yoongi got me a heating pad.”

Hobi jumps, hand over his heart. You crack one eye, a smile building, “Jesus fucking Christ- I thought you were asleep-” he flops down onto the chair next to you, trying to settle his heartbeat. He still smells faintly sour, the sweetness in his caramel scent going burnt.

“If me being cold is why you’re upset, get in line.” Hobi flushes and the living room window curtain moves again. He's a little chagrined at being found out. But you don’t tease him anymore, wordlessly peeling back the covers and letting him in.

The inside of your little nesting bundle is suprisingly toasty. Your body hot to the touch when you lean against Hobi’s shoulder. Playing with his hand under the cover while he talks about everything and nothing in particular. Hobi’s job mostly. What he did today. The people they had in at the shop. everything.

You’d told Hobi a few nights ago (hushed like your care instructions are a proprietary secret) that sometimes you just like being talked at without any sort of need to respond beyond a hum or nod. Like when Tae talks about all the books she's reading. It’s soothing, just listening to him.

You sit like until the doorknob Jingles, in that faintly metallic broken way it’s always had.

Jungkook comes to the door, his pretty dark eyes hope wide. Announcing his presence with a little noise that sounds a little…off, like Jungkook’s already preparing himself for something unpleasant.

That unpleasant thing being you probably.

It's been 3 days since your ill-advised rendezvous in the old bedroom turned sex dungeon and you still haven't said more than a word to each other in passing. You look away, avoiding his eye contact.

“Hey,” he licks his lips, voice falling, pussying out at the last second when he sees you're not alone. He'd taken your request not to tell anyone to heart but that only makes this more difficult. Jungkook has always been shy when it comes to difficult but necessary things. He's a little too used to the others facilitating these kinds of conversations.

“Either of you want to go for a run er-“ He scratches at the nape of his neck looking at you pointedly, “Walk?” You sigh and after half a breath Hobi responds for you. Hand tangling with yours under the covers, the comforting touch hidden.

“I think we’re okay, I’m a bit tired,” Hobi says.

It's not exactly a lie; Both of you had stayed up pretty late last night after your nightmare woke you. Watching funny TikTok's that had you breathing short heavy breaths of air against his neck. As close to a laugh as you can ever get when you're sad. But he knows you won’t say it, that you won't respond to Jungkook. On a good day, you have trouble articulating your wants.

It’s been a few days since you’ve had a good day. A few weeks, if Hobi’s being honest.

Everyone had also sort of noticed, that you and Jungkook have been orbiting each other like planets the same way Jimin and Tae keep their distance these days. Although their distance is more an emotional one and less of a physical one like yours and Jungkook's. Tae and Jimin are a lot better at pretending that nothing's wrong.

Jungkook's hopeful smile falls. But he nods, blinking rapidly before he thuds down the stairs to start stretching his body. His tight black shirt hugging places that are distracting even on the easiest of days and today is no different.

Only now, it feels like you're not allowed to look.

“Okay, something happened- you usually aren’t so quiet around Koo- spill” Hobi nudges your shoulder with his. “Jungkook definitely is not all sad bunny without reason.”

“You are such a gossip.”

“Gossiping is supposed to be good for your neural pathways.”

“You sound like Namjoon.” You don’t want to say it, don’t want to talk about it.

You’re not sure what you expect but Hobi tickling the information out of you isn’t it. But his fingers creep up your sides, voice uncharacteristically whiney as they dig into your soft spots, makeing you squirm.

“Come on just tell me,”

The giggle startles out of your chest and you scuffle trying unsuccessfully to twist out of the way of his hands. you hold his hands away from you so that he won’t dig them into your sides. Laughing, both of you half-splayed on the outdoor furniture. The blanket starting to pull onto the floor. It’s so cold today- but where Hobi’s hands dig into your sides you’re warm.

The two of you miss Jungkook's singular longing look.

“Alright- alright fine. Just- stop.” Hobi listens immediately. Sitting back and pulling you back to sitting by your wrists. He’s feeling a little too accomplished, the hum of alpha made omega submit like a flame flickering through his blood.

He always feels a little too accomplished when he makes you smile, when he makes you laugh, and when he makes you better. He feels a little too accomplished when he can make you happy and no one else can not even your mate.

(but that particular thought will only be useful a few days from now- You stupid idiot alpha.)

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you start. keeping your voice down so that jungkook won't overhear. “Jungkook- the other day, we were uhm, having sex” Hobi reaches up and zips up your sweatshirt, it's another one of his that you’ve taken to wearing religiously. The one with sewn-in patches on the front.

“Oh, you’re blushing.”

You bury your nose in the blanket. “Shut up- am not.”

“Just spit it out,” He teases. At least you have the energy to tease me back today.

You sigh, resting your cheek sort of across his knee, although the blanket cushions you too. it takes you a second before you start. “I gave- or well- tried to give him a blowjob. But I started crying in the middle of it.”

Hobi winces, trying to school his face into a mask of impassivity. He might be getting a little too used to you crying with how the last few nights have gone. But he understands why the shift might have been startling for Jungkook.

It’s hard to keep speaking but Hobi's hand in yours makes it easier. “He keeps trying to apologize, but there’s nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who pushed myself when I knew I shouldn't have. it's my fault, not his."

“You don’t really believe that do you?” Hobi feels vaguely sick, and he can tell from your looking away that maybe you do.

“I don’t know if it works that way. Apologizes can’t cancel each other out. He doesn't need to say he's sorry, I just need to get over myself.”

Hobi slips out from the blanket, braving the cold after being curled up with your warmth feels particularly chilling. He calls Jungkook’s name just as he starts to run. Luckily, he's barely 5 paces down the sidewalk.

“Koo! Wait up! We’re gonna put on warmer clothes.”

“What are you doing?” You hiss, whisper hushed. Hobi’s already pulling the thick blue blanket off of you extinguishing your protective barrier of warmth. He helps you up with a handout because Jung Hoseok is a gentleman under all of his delicately artful streetwear. His jeans today have painted sunflowers on them. They complement the yellow beach trees behind him and his auburn sweater stunningly. His smile feels just as bright.

If you were a plant, I’d put you where it’s sunniest.

He doesn't know when he started looking for excuses to hold your hands, but he does so right now, tugging you inside.

“I don’t think you should leave this; I think you need to talk it out. Don’t be like Tae and Jimin.” You whine at that but only because it’s true. Tae and Jimin have been dancing around each other for weeks and are showing no signs of getting better.

Jungkook is only too happy to turn his run into a walk. The three of you must look like quite the trio. You in your too-large pink sweatpants and Hobi’s sweatshirt (an extra sweater added underneath that Yoongi had been only too happy to provide). Jungkook in one of his form-fitting all-black jogging outfits that hugs all of his muscles. He favors the expensive athleisure because it’s sort of his job to look effortlessly sporty. And Hobi in his paint splattered- ripped at the hem- baggy jeans and orange beanie. Ears sticking out at the side.

The cold wind whips at the three of you as you walk.

Your muscles burn, thighs aching as you climb the hills. Another reminder of something you need to work on. But they slow their pace to accommodate you. “Joonie and I used to drive late through this neighborhood just to look at all of the old houses."

It’s a bright fall day, and the houses do look awfully pretty with all of their colorful frames and shutters and scrolling woodwork. It’s a reminder of what your house probably looked like half a century ago, what it probably will look like if Yoongi has any say in the matter and completes his dream of fully restoring it.

The cold air burns your lungs. You’re not talking about it until you are until it’s all you can talk about. Hobi’s not sure how he ended up in the middle between the two of you as you and Jungkook sort of shout at each other. It’s not shouting exactly, just the tenseness of raised voices that echo across the concrete and asphalt, startling a mean-looking calico cat that sits on the edge of a rock wall.

“It’s not your fault Kookie-“

“If it's not mine then it’s certainly not yours.” Bratting out won’t help this, you aren’t someone who Koo can or should brat to. His tone is the kind he uses with Namjoon and Jin when he’s feeling like he needs a strong hand- and Hobi is too aware of how lacking in strength you are right now.

Hobi flicks Jungkook on the shoulder. “Be nice, you’re both just stressed about this.” Hobi’s a good mediator. It’s good that he stays between the two of you when you talk like this.

Jungkook kicks at a rock and it scatters with a sharp sound, “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you didn’t like it? I just- I’ve been struggling to get it.”

“Because-“ you break off, wondering if it’s painfully honest or just plain painful to admit this. The truth won’t change even if what you say does. Maybe you owe it to Jungkook, to be honest with this. “Because- What you want matters more to me than what I want.”

A frustrated groan slips his lips, “Okay but why? Why is that? Maybe it just makes me selfish but l can’t imagine. Help me understand-”

You pucker your lips and Hobi knows it’s because deep down you think an awful lot of bad things about yourself. Hobi is only too familiar with those kinds of thoughts, how they built and built, and eventually condemn you to behaviors far worse. If you don’t believe that you deserve things like food and kindness- then it’s easier to believe you don’t deserve things like a choice in what happens- you don’t deserve agency. Hobi understands without having to ask.

But Jungkook doesn’t.

“Jungkook, I’m trying not to call you privileged but there are certain things with you that are given that aren’t with me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, annoyed that your argument has become this, “yeah? Like what-”

“You’ve always been pretty and looked after in your relationships Kookie-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah but you’re pretty too-”

Your hands are tightened into little fists, “You don’t get it, those things are not a given with me. They weren't until you guys. It’s hard for me to believe in our relationship the same way you do, It's why I make like fucked up choices sometimes. I can't forget it- I had to fight for every inch and even now- even though I have everything I need I can’t stop fighting or else it will go away forever. That's what it feels like, even though i know it's not- it feels like i still have to make sure-" you make a frustrates sound,

"People like me do not get things without giving something up Jungkook, that's what i've been taught until now." Jungkook starts to argue, to say that they won't go away and yet you snap at him. "You never had to fight in the first place. So doing things I don't want to gain that security- it's a sacrifice I've always been willing to make."

Thinking thoughts like that is a lot more damaging than Jungkook realizes, but Hobi knows. You’ve had this exact conversation before. Maybe Hobi should step in and put more than just his physical body between the two of you. Maybe he should do something to stop this from charting into unsafe territory.

"That's like- so fucking shitty."

"It's not shitty, it's just a fack Jungkook."

"No- I meant that's shitty of you to say about yourself and about us."

Hobi knows that what you’re trying to describe is not the same thing as hating yourself or fearing you aren’t worth love. Because secretly worrying is different than knowing it as a truth.

Truth and Secret. Two sides of the same coin.

But maybe as the people who love you and are trying to help you, maybe trying to be worth something for yourself and not them, is what they’re owed.

You won’t get anywhere, you won’t get better, if you keep thinking and believing this. it might be up to them to get you started, but once you’re standing on your own two feet you’ll have miles to go. Hobi knows. Because he’s a few years further along with this- this mental rehabilitation of your sense of self than you are.

You need to at least do something about your dysmally low self-esteem. And that something isn't letting them walk all over it. Hobi’s not sure he should be the one to tell you that. Maybe Jin should, or Yoongi.

Hobi's not sure you're ready to hear that yet.

Yeah- Yoongi should be the one. Wanting someone you love to start loving themselves is never an easy predicament.

"You- you're their baby Kookie." Is all you say, like that justifies it. “You’re their baby and they give you everything you want. So don’t blame me for following in their footsteps.”

“Yeah- but I'm also my own person!” Jungkook stops walking wrapping his arms around his elbows. But Hobi knows he’s not cold. Now that you’re moving he hardly feels the breeze. You, on the other hand, are still shivery.

“You don't get it! If you told me tomorrow that you never wanted to touch me again it would be okay- I’d get it and we'd all get over it."

Jungkook is not looking at your face when he says it. “You say you’re not given the same things as me, but you’re not even letting me give you that. I’m equally as capable of making choices for the betterment of the pack as you are, I’m equally as capable of deciding what I think needs to happen. That is not just a one-sided conversation. I don’t want you to-"

He breaks off, frustrated at the ability of his words to accurately help, to heal. This has never been what Jungkook's good at. The stone that Jungkook’s been kicking, small and round and grey, sits between your worn shoes.

“That’s not the point of all of this is what I’m trying to say. Love is a process, not a single event and it's not just one sided. We need to be able to give and take, and take and give. None of us just want to take from you until you've got no more left.”

You have picked up one bad habit from Namjoon it seems (Namjoon's the worst offender, but Jin and Yoongi and basically everyone else in the pack treat Jungkook like this from time to time, it's hard not too- when he's as sick as he is.)

You forget sometimes, that Jungkook is not fragile. Regardless of his health issues and the strain it puts on him. He is both older than you and just as capable of handling things on his own. Probably a little bit more capable honestly, given your general mental difficulties.

('Mental difficulties' is a kind way of saying that you're fucking useless on one of your sad days, but tomato tamato.)

There is a rotting pumpkin on the sidewalk, it looks like one of the neighborhood kids must have kicked it in. You kind of feel like that.

“I’m sorry for making you do that, for making something happen on terms that you didn’t agree to.”

“I’m sorry for not checking in with you part way through, for not double checking.”

Hobi steps back so that you can hug Jungkook, and Jungkook feels very very warm underneath the thin cloth. Muscles working off their energy, he nuzzles into the side of your face, Jungkook smells best in fall time- honey-dripping from autumn leaves. All golden too.

The heavy goldenrod sways. And you feel a little lighter. Just a little. You don’t know if it’s enough. From behind Jungkook’s back, Hobi smiles at you. Wide and genuine- the kind that lights up his whole face and makes your chest feel all fluttery. And when you pull back it’s you that ends up in the middle of your trio. You feel boxed in in a good way, both of their shoulders towering above you, barely at eye level with Jungkook’s.

When a car comes close and the sidewalk gets narrow, Hobi presses both of you closer to the grass. Jungkook grabs the back of your sweatshirt when you stumble over a crack in the concrete.

“I know it kind of defeats the purpose of exercise and it's cold but, wanna get some ice cream?”

"Fuck yes.”

“Can we cuddle when we get back? Post-walk cuddles are the best.”

“Of course we can Koo.”

You walk a little farther into town, you're already very close. A few streets down is Hobi’s flower shop and he’s very familiar with this area. The dusty old sweetshop has been in this town probably longer than any of you have been alive. with pink rubber linoleum and eggshell blue walls. The shop smells like waffle cones, freshly pressed and bubbling. Smells like the tail end of summer- you're honestly a little bit surprised that they're open this far after the official close of the season.

Both of them pause at the door. Noses lifting, breathing in deep. A delighted pur slips past Jungkook's lips, and a happy alpha grumble stirs in Hoseok's chest.

Hobi doesn’t know how he never placed it, but it’s your scent. Your scent is not just warm baking bread although that’s what you smell like usually when your happiness has mellowed out to a neutral humm. But this- the warm waffle sweetness on the air- that’s what you smell like when you’re happy. When you laugh. When you smile.

Hobi's teeth ache.

For a second, he and Jungkook just stand in it. Basking. Your cheeks are two pink splotches, like pieces of cherry saltwater taffy. “Don’t you dare say anything.” You hiss, shy and a bit embarrassed. The air around you gets imperceptibly sweeter and Jungkook steps up to the counter to order once you tell him what you want. Hobi grabs your hand, squeezing it lightly.

You raise your eyebrow at him, feeling lighter than you have in days. You know it won't last, but still.

“Do you still have that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

~-~

You’re right. It doesn’t last.

Eventually, your sadness reaches its boiling point. It always bubbles over one way or another.

It’s bad that it’s just another fucking ordinary day, isn’t it? How messy. How inelegant of you, that sadness should consume you on a random fucking morning.

It’s Tuesday and the world is ending, but the world has always been ending for you, hasn’t it? Your life has been a slow apocalypse. Things have always been harder than they should be for you and that’s the real tragedy in this. If you could only learn to keep your head down it might be easier.

Do not worry. The worrying is going to kill you. (This isn’t just a lesson for you, but a lesson for me too.)

You need to break. You and Hobi need to break again before you heal right. Like a broken bone or a pair of broken hearts that need setting. You’re never going to get there without a little bit of violence.

It’s so strange how quickly everything turns, one day you’re okay and then the next you’re not. You wish that there was a rhyme or reason, that everything could just be fixed with love.

On this particular Tuesday, that violence comes for you.

It’s been 19 mornings since you and Hobi held each other’s hands and found a dead body and on this day you feel like you’re wading through sludge. Head all fuzzy, like a corpse that wasn’t ever found and instead buried in muck and crawling things. Buzzing around your head are errant thoughts.

Things like hide hide hide, can’t let them know, can’t show sad or else, or else or else or else. The unseen consequences hover there, like a ghost in the corner, hungry and bitter. Waiting for you to show your belly. Waiting until they can hurt the most.

You never thought you’d feel afraid of breathing too loud again. But as you feel the pack get up around you, you struggle to keep your breathing measured and even. Playing dead.

Yoongi’s there, you can tell because he pulls you onto his chest when Tae has to scoot around you, his long hair brushing the top of your head when he buries his nose in your hair. and murmurs that he'll be down in a minute. Everyone else has already woken up and started the process of getting ready for work. The nest is faintly warm in spots. But you wouldn’t know- having curled your knees to your chest to take up as little space as possible.

He strokes your back, waiting so that you're not alone when you wake. You fake it for as long as you can. Reluctantly turning to press your face into his chest and hide when you know for certain it's only him there and that everyone else has already gone downstairs for breakfast.

He kisses your forhead and then your eyelids and then your mating mark. Feeling the even beat of your blood against his skin like a promise, like salvation.

“It’s gonna pass. You know it will.” Yoongi says, soft because he can tell you’re shaking with the effort of hiding it. Your eyes are glassy when he pulls back to get his eyes on you. Each of his touches is reassuring and gentle, feather-light as he pets down your arms to your wrists, pulling your arms around him. permission to cling, permission to hug him like you need too.

But it feels like there's a bubble between Yoongi's hands and your body. Each of his touches just another layer of skin or clothes away. Too far to touch.

“My little love, my sweetheart,” he says, voice rough. Searching your eyes for a hint of the usual you. Persing his lips when he finds little of it.

You’ve got pretty eyes, Yoongi doesn’t say that often enough. Although he’s heard Tae compliment them. They're even beautiful when they're like this- all spaced out. Frightfully blank and absent of their usual twinkle. Like you’re not able to concentrate on anything. Dissociating.

Yoongi’s body feels too small to properly guard you. Like an eggshell cradling careful golden yolk and bland milky white. Keeping you tucked around his ribcage won't keep you safe. As alive and necessary as his heart is, soft and warm here and just as prone to bleeding.

You struggle. Barely breathing around it. And Yoongi’s heart lurches. His gripping going frantic. He's just about to tell you not to struggle today (you don't need to speak if it's going to hurt) when you finally choke out.

“I’m fine.”

It's whisper soft and Yoongi hums in agreement even if he knows you’re anything but. If you need the certainty of saying that, then he’s going to let you have it.

Maybe that’s his first mistake, letting you act like nothing is wrong when it so clearly is.

"I can do it," you tell him when he moves to help you get dressed for the day. He's worried you won't do it if he doesn't make you but you want to tell him you're not a fucking child. Even that seems like it would take too much speaking. Too much effort.

He goes down the stairs first. Leaving you to pull on a thin sweater and then Hobi’s sweatshirt over it. You cried into the hem of his other one last night, the one with the patches on it that's your favorite. Now it sits on the floor like a discarded corpse. You debate putting it on but it smells too much like you. Too much like Nightmare and not enough like sunshine.

If Jin were here and not downstairs already and if you were capable of speaking maybe he'd recite some careful statistic. Is this another poorly studied omegan behavior? Wrapping scented items around you like a nest that you can take with you wherever you go. Something that omegas do when they feel truly threatened.

But nests are supposed to keep the bad things out, and the only bad thing in this house is currently wrapped in Hobi's sweatshirt. Standing in the dressing room like a ghost. The pink walls look greyer by the second like you're leaching the color from them. Trying not to burst into tears for no reason at all.

People don't cry over their favorite sweatshirt being dirty.

You're cold, your fingers went numb the second that you detangled yourself from Yoongi and the nest. the second that hobi left from it really. When Hobi leaves he takes your warmth with him.

You wonder when that happened, when his clothes started to smell like you, and yours started to smell like him. You don’t want to think of the implications of that today, your heart is too heavy with fear to carry any love.

Jungkook’s In the entryway when Yoongi goes down. Tying his shoes and getting ready to leave for his early class. He says good morning while he stuffs his work out bag with not one but 3 protein shakes,

Namjoon left very early for a surgery but the entryway still smells faintly of the pack alpha. His coffee scent twined with the smell of a freshly brewed pot. The faint gurgle of it finishing echoes off the tall ceilings.

Yoongi woke up with him, had watched as he spent an extra few minutes pressed along your spine speaking softly over your sleeping form. Words hushed and secret like confession or maybe a wish. If you could absorb Namjoon’s encouragement via osmosis, it would have worked by now. His voice gentle enough to keep off the nightmares, a dream catcher of sorts.

"You're doing so well pup, I'm so proud of you, each day that you get up and you try- you're so strong. I know it's hard- I know you're so tired, but try one more time for me today, okay? I love you so much. I can't wait to see you when I get home."

Yoongi watches him get ready from the steps, watching Jungkook tie his shoes. Feeling lucky to do so. Jungkook looks up, sees him, and smiles. It’s short-lived.

“How’s today, from 1-10?” He's asked the same thing every morning this week, although you'd never guessed it and Yoongi would never tell on him.

“Probably a 4,” he sighs, lying a little because you're honestly at a 3 at best. But if Jungkook thinks that you've gotten worse since yesterday then he'll just spend the whole day worrying over it. Stressing when his texts go unanswered. Yoongi hasn't seen you even touch your cell phone since yesterday morning.

Jungkook sighs, resting his head on the banister so Yoongi can run his fingers through his hair. No matter how much he wants to stay home and help Yoongi look after you he can’t. It never feels good leaving when a packmate is in distress. The rest of the pack are in the same predicament and Yoongi knows it. Their day jobs are an ever-present pain in their asses. Especially with a packmate so obviously in need of their care.

“She’ll probably want to sleep until you get home. Go, I’ve got this.” Yoongi is too used to this, too used to corralling you like a fragile ghost.

Jungkook knows Yoongi has this in hand but still, since the other day, he’s felt at least partially responsible. But Yoongi doesn’t know about the blowjob. He might never know. If you don’t want to tell him then Jungkook won’t. You've gone mostly back to normal since the other say, and Jungkook won't make this worse.

Yoongi checks on you when you don't immediately come downstairs, unsurprised that you've decided to go back to sleep. You sleep and sleep and sleep. Through breakfast and then lunch. Until Yoongi can no longer concentrate on the space downstairs, and the gnawing of the mating mark disturbs his quiet. He's only halfway through framing out the exterior walls. He takes a plate up to you and sits by you as you struggle through it. Finally convincing you to at least come downstairs and sit where he can watch you.

Hobi would take you out for ice cream if he was home, knowing you’d lick up a Sunday in a heartbeat. That’s what he’d do. But Yoongi just pokes at your plate and tells you to take one more bite.

It’s a little pathetic (a lot pathetic really) how bad you are at taking care of yourself when you get sad. But hours slip by like minutes. Trickling through your fingers.

You don’t really know what you do in the afternoon. The moments pass foggy; there are pieces of sea glass on the table outside. The porch is drafty and cold. When did the birdfeeder run out of seed? there is a small bird looking at you, pudgy grey and brown, its beak makes no noise. It turns its head wondering if you're food or foe or statue.

The floor is all messy with fallen leaves and the window boxes don't have flowers in them anymore.

You watch the autumn light bounce through the red maple and it's leaves until your pack comes home. One kiss a piece on the top of your head.

Tae’s finger rubs your forehead the next time you're really aware. Her nail scratches against your scalp. “Sorry, I got a little bit of lipstick on you." She pulls you from the outside furniture and ushers your cold body inside. Noodle follows, was he sitting in your lap? His tail raised behind him like a warning flag.

When the pack comes home, they bring with them bags of food, because Jin and Jimin had gone to get groceries after work hadn’t they? That stings a little.

Over the last few months, you've developed something of a routine with Jin and Yoongi. It's become a habit to make an outing out of the small things because you like the small things. The little domestic indulgence of going to the store with the people you love. Getting asked to go get things that they've forgotten. Like a little scavenger hunt. You can’t remember if they offered to come home and pick you up. Maybe Yoongi told them you weren’t up for it today.

You’re hurt until you check your phone.

Jinnie: (5:01 pm): Hey, Minnie and I are gonna go to Costco after work, wanna come? we can swing by the house on our way through.

Jinnie: (5:06 pm): You know how much he loves the parfaits.

Jinnie: (5:23): Pup?

Jinnie: (5:30) (Missed call)

Minnie &lt;3 (5:32) (Missed call)

Jinnie: (5:35): Just let me know okay? I’ll bring you one home if you want!

Minnie &lt;3: (6:45) (Missed call)

Jinnie (6:47): Minnie got you one anyway <3

You stare down at the missed calls, wondering what else you've forgotten and what else you've missed. It feels like you’re suffocating slowly but the others aren’t. The hard edge of your phone digs into the side of your hand as you hold it tight.

The others seem perfectly content with the amount of oxygen in the room so you’re sure it must all be in your head. They rush around you, at 3x speed and you slowed down to a reverb. Jungkook laughs and hugs you to his chest, moving you out of their way with a hug because they've got a lot to unload and you're in the way.

You are taking up necessary space. Too underfoot, Too close. Too needy.

You pretend that there is nothing to be worried about.

Yoongi's been getting dinner ready, probably since he made you come downstairs, you help him while he directs the others because the idea of curling up in the other room and doing nothing seems just as terrible as performing domestic labor. Yoongi abandons the pots on the stove after asking you to look after them.

That’s what this is, isn’t it? A performance. Smile and no one will think anything’s wrong. Lean into Jin’s touch and say you’re sorry for not responding because that’s what he expects. Take a bite of Jimin's parfait when he hands it to you even though you can't really taste it, the sweet friction of raspberry against your tongue, the tang of spoiled dairy. Leave it on the counter when he walks away, but only when he turns his back.

It’s a delicate balance, and you meditate your scent to be as unoffensive as possible. Dissociating so lightly and gently that you know you hardly smell anything. You don’t want tonight to be a bad night. You won’t let it.

Even Namjoon ducks down, sniffing curiously at your neck, once quick, and then deeper, “You’re not wearing blockers, are you?”

You can’t let him know, can’t let anyone know. “Of course not,” Namjoon surveys you and you can tell your ruse isn’t believed. You hasten to make another excuse. “I feel like I have a bit of a cold coming on, it’s probably just allergies.” Speaking when you need to lie, when you feel like you're dying, is frightfully easy.

You are almost keen and lean into his touch when he puts a hand on your forehead. Stupid omegan impulses. You already need so much care, just this touch is enough to make you whine for more. Namjoon’s touches are in high demand and in short supply. You won't take them from the others.

“You don’t feel warm.” He sucks on his cheek, eyes flickering to the door where Jimin waits, arms ladened with bags, asking for help.

You feel like time is slipping away. Slipping faster than you are.

You might as well be frozen at the bottom of a like because it feels like nothing can reach you here. Not Jin’s kind looks or the pregnant glance they share over your head. The parfait sits on the counter gathering condensation. “You should have it before dinner,” Jimin says, ignoring Jin’s usual rule of dinner first desert second. Even Jin doesn’t comment. You just hum in response. Stirring the pot carefully.

Jungkook has to ask you three times if you think that the fruit's fine on the counter or if it should go in the pantry. When he asks you what’s wrong you say that you’re just distracted- even though that’s really not it. The pell mell tumbling of your mind is the one thing you can’t escape. Everything is just below the surface, still water on top and a riptide below. You have never been more focused on making yourself small.

Not enough, it’s never enough, why haven’t you been putting more effort into this, why haven’t you been doing more? It’s so easy for them and yet so hard for you. Why are you being a baby, why can’t you get over this? Why are you taking up so much space?

You’d really been hoping that maybe just maybe- you’d be able to keep it like this. You can't shake the fear they’re gonna start pulling away from you soon. How many more times will you miss Jin's calls before he stops calling? You know they're tired of this. Tired of you. With every little sweet word they say. Every time Namjoon bends down to peck your cheek before he goes outside to unload, pausing in between each trip.

Everything is perfect and idyllic and fine with the pack But it doesn't feel that way.

You don’t need to be needy when you already take so much. They can hardly get one night of uninterrupted sleep because of you. Maybe you should start sleeping downstairs.

Don’t look at me like that, don’t look at me like you can tell that something's wrong. Don't look, don't look, don't look.

You make yourself help. Muscles straining, a little dizzy, and that’s because you didn’t eat earlier, right? You sway, and Jimin watches you. comes near. Knuckles rubbing against your spine, you don't look at his face, keeping your gaze trained on the food. "You wanna go cuddle on the couch pup? You don't need to do this, I can-"

"Jiminie? Where did you put the bag of sushi rice? I can't find it and I wanna put all the grains in the same place." You are not the only one with food related anxiety. Jungkook's tense face appears in the doorway and jimin's necessary concern is thankfully diverted.

You put on a brave face, "You can go, I've got this" Jimin looks like he doesn't believe you. But Jungkook is obviously stressed about this impromptu re-organization.

But there are bags and bags of food; more than you and Yoongi ever needed when it was just the two of you. It's probably two grocery carts full at minimum. With the amount they eat it will barely last a week.

There will be another chance, you know there will be. Jin smiles at you when he comes inside, lips tugging at his cheeks in that familiar beautiful way. His button-down shirt rolled up at the elbows. To his credit, it only looks a little strained. It goes genuine when you burrow into his chest, nuzzling in that small pupish way that you know he likes.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage, it doesn’t feel like enough. You shake, but Jin only leans against the counter and pulls you properly to his chest while the others rush by, Jimin’s car is packed to the brim.

“It’s okay pup” Jin noses along your shoulder and you tilt your chin letting him drink deep. He offers no other sweet supplications. No other encouragements, and oh- that stings. Because any other day he’d have some little joke or jab that would make you smile. Any other day he’d stay with you and let the others do the unloading, but today, he just kisses your forehead as he lets you go.

How selfish of you, to expect more when it’s clear that Jin is giving you as much as he can right now. How selfish of you to expect anything with you are so incapable of giving anything of substance in return.

The spread of pots on the range is what you’d expect from a meal meant to feed eight people. There’s a pot full of soup to warm you up from the inside out and a shallow pan with oil. Rice cooking fills the air with warm clean steam. The breaded chicken bubbles and pops, covered by a screen that Yoongi had told you not to get too close to because of possible oil splashes.

It could hurt he said. Be careful.

There’s even a salad on the side, the cucumber chopped into pretty little chunks. Feta cheese and a few different kinds of dressing at the ready. The knife on the cutting board is sharp and capable, but that’s not what you’d go for.

Yoongi tries to organize your packmates into putting the right things away in the right place rather than just leaving them in a vague state of disarray. He and Jin are a little particular about how they keep the kitchen. Their distracted, not focusing on you even when they come close.

Only one packmate lingers in your vicinity. The snack cabinet in particular is a little too full of half-open chip bags and Hoseok is given the task to throw out the old ones (who’s really going to eat the crumbs anyway?). They’ll replace them with the new bags of gluten-free rice crackers and other things that Jungkook can eat. He’s less likely to go for the sugary and salty snacks that the pack keeps in the pantry if he has his seizure-safe ones close at hand.

Maybe it's tricking him into eating healthy, but the pack is good at that- gently guiding you all into healthier behaviors. Doing the same thing to you too. Keeping sweets and fresh fruit out because that’s what you’re most likely to reach for. Eating a little unhealthy is better than not eating at all.

The pot is on the stove, burning. You know what burns to feel like- the clarity of pain that cuts through the confusion. This haze that you just can't seem to get rid of any other way.

Hobi comes back into the kitchen before you can do anything and you look away from the pot rapidly. He's trying to say something to you that you only hum at, “I don’t know how the fuck Jk opened up 12 different bags of Tostitos-” It’s a pitiful attempt at small talk, to get you to talk at all. What’s wrong- what aren’t you saying? Let me in.

But you just hum, stirring the pots. Hobi keeps you in his peripheries. His eye is on you. Concentrating on you as you slowly stir the pasta.

Once upon a time, you were used to the semi-constant pain in your stomach and the dizziness of hurting yourself in that way. You aren’t above pretending that not eating is anything but that. A way to hurt yourself slowly over time. If you’re going to hurt yourself you might as well be effective with it and get something out of.

Your body isn’t even worthwhile now. The last time you looked in the mirror (it’s been a few days) there was nothing but soft curved lines, from your shoulders to your hips to your calves, everything soft and cozy about you is everything that you hate.

Hurt used to be marked in the harsh lines of your hips and your ribs. A quiet pain made public. Made visible. Both evidence and remedy. A soft punishment. Even if you stopped starving yourself and started eating, the desire for hurt and the need for it has never really gone away.

But there are three ways that you hurt yourself; with food, with sex, and with this.

You feel so fucking useless. You couldn’t even respond to Jin’s texts. He deserved a response, didn’t he? He does so much for the pack- but you couldn’t even do that. You left him hanging. disappointing your pack omega is something you can't bear. Jin only wanted to try and include you in something and yet- you fucked it up. You always fuck it up.

It’s just a single momentary lapse. A re-lapse. That’s what people might call it.

Hobi says something to you but you’re not listening.

You can just touch it for a second, press the hot pot to the space between your thumb and your wrist. It will look like you’ve turned into the pot on accident. That’s what you’ll say if anyone notices later. You could probably hide the mark until tomorrow under the sleeve of Hobi’s sweatshirt. Maybe the red-hot skin will bubble so you can pick at it. Maybe you'll be able to make the hurt last a little longer.

It will hurt and then everything will be clear again. A perfect exchange. With the pain, you’ll be able to eat tonight, and then they won’t be so worried. It will keep them off your back for a little while longer. You just want to pretend for a little while longer. You might not even have a nightmare tonight. You’ll feel it every time you touch something, every time you touch them. You’ll pay for the emptiness in your chest that way. The pain both punishment and reminder.

You’re not above exchanging one bad habit for another.

You’re moving, already decided on it. Reaching towards the hot pot, bracing yourself for a momentary lash of pain and then endless ache. Bracing for it.

Hobi’s hands are crumpling up the plastic bag when he turns. Ready to throw it in the garbage can. It feels like he watches you reach for it in slow motion.

He’s moving before he’s even really registered what he’s doing. Instincts taking over, energy and adrenaline bursting. Alpha's protectiveness rankled into something that looks like putting his body between you and the pot before you have a chance to move another inch. He backs you up against the island in three smooth strides. So abruptly that he’s probably a little too rough with you.

But panic makes Hobi rough. Makes him less careful.

The stone countertop presses hard into your spine- hurting. Hobi’s hands you’re your wrists are biting and tight, your heartbeat thudding against his fingers. Holding you up, keeping you from falling as his body makes you stumble.

There’s a high-pitched buzzing in your ears, the low drone and hum like an airplane moving overhead. You look up at him.

You have never seen Hobi’s eyes this wide, dilated with fear and panic, but even now- it feels so far away. One second it is just the humming and then cacophonous, the sound of his breathing, but bubble snapping crack of oil and the smell of burning things. Not you- not your hand, just the food. Hobi’s looking down at you, horrified.

Luckily, he got to you in time.

The world tilts on its axis as you look up into Hobi’s face. Eyes wide with fear. Startled. Not there. Face stricken and a small little half-breath hitching.

There is a single moment of silence, where he should let you go, should remove his hands from around your wrists. Your heartbeat thuds against his palms. There. Beat beat beat, and Hobi’s pulse is thundering in his ears too. The beat of his soul excited and going double time to match your rhythm. Crescendo and Diminuendo all at once.

Yoongi’s at the door, watching the two of you. Behind your back.

And then all sudden, your brain is rushing over itself, panic at being discovered, a near frantic need to hide. “That wasn’t- I wasn’t” you stutter. Trying to lie when things are bad is so hard. The words caught in your throat. It’s okay, you can just pretend can’t you?

“Where you-” he can’t finish the sentence, can’t make his mouth say the words because- fuck- fuck-

He knows what you were just trying to do, he’s seen it. In the evidence of little burns on your fingers, and small bruises on your hips from 'bumping' into things. He’s seen you giggle and move away and say “I’m just clumsy” but you’re not just clumsy. It’s not just clumsiness when hurting is all that you can think about.

“I’m fine Yoongi. I’m fine- just tired.” How many times have you said that over the last few weeks? Dozens? Hundreds?

You roll your eyes in a last-ditch effort, feigning annoyance that Hobi is only too familiar with, “Hobi doesn’t know what he saw. I’m fine.”

Hobi feels like he’s just been slapped. The words sting where they land. And Oh, now that feels like a betrayal. That’s gaslighting, isn’t it? Hobi knows what you’re doing, just reacting because you feel threatened but he’s all too familiar with that sort of lying.

He’s heard it a thousand times- the last time he loved a woman- love was only like that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull away from kissing you, it’s all in your head, I know you have a hard time believing it when we say we want you, but really Hobi- we can only try so hard. What? We aren’t abusing you. All relationships are like this. You've just never been in one before.

"It’s all in your fucking head.”

And oh- oh fuck. Hobi feels like he’s about to start screaming at you. Feels like someone’s just pulled the rug out from underneath him. You are anything but fine. He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Yoongi's eyes flicker from Hobi to you, mouth settling into an unhappy line.

Hobi's breathing is shaky and brittle, loud in the quiet of everyone waiting, everyone watching. His heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to fall out and land at your feet.

It's yours anyway.

Oh.

Oh.

Hobi can’t breathe and love has never been crueler. But that’s the truth, isn’t it? Both you and him are frozen. Love, like Medusa’s kiss, has made you both statues. The rest of the pack is too.

Even standing there, even hurting him, Hobi still loves you. He looks at you and he aches, a bone-deep sort of wanting, a claim that not even disappointment can touch. Hobi has always been willing to compromise too much in the name of love. To be hurt by someone and still love them is a special kind of devotion.

Yoongi moves, cutting through everyone standing like statues. Yoongi gets between the two of you.

Yoongi doesn’t scruff you often, it’s just not his style. But Hobi finds himself watching every second of it as his pretty fingers close around your neck, pulling until you sag against him. Until the words get pulled from you by your mate's touch, choking out the truth from you. If anyone makes you honest it’s Yoongi.

"Nope, I'm not letting you hurt him to hurt yourself, I refuse. Try again sweetheart."

Yoongi's fingers pull the words out of you in a heaving sobbing breath. The power of the mating mark bearing down. Yoongi's beta pheromones echo out- for the first time unencumbered and unrestrained. Your knees go weak, and you bend.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry- I wasn’t-”

But all of your excuses and lies fall short. You pick your head off Yoongi’s shoulder and move, reaching out for Hobi weakly.

Hobi backs up so quickly that he bangs his hip against the kitchen island. Shaking his head. Avoiding your touch because- oh- he’s crying so hard he can’t see. Hot and furious tears wet his cheeks.

“Yeah- fuck that- fuck this- fuck you- I’m done- I’m out.”

He’s not running, but it feels like he might be as he moves to the door, yanking his jacket off of the hooks so hard he rips the collar of it. But he’s suffocating from all the scents in the room. A cacophony of sadness pulling his instincts in one direction and his mind pulling him in another. Dizzy with them.

“Hobi- wait-”

“No. I can't- can't do this.” Torn between two upset packmates, Yoongi has you and Jimin and Tae start in Hobi's direction. But he raises a finger at them in a warning. "Don't you fucking dare. I mean it."

He loves you, doesn’t he? That’s what all these moments have been, even if Hobi had never thought it. He sees every moment with you like a supercut:

You and him sitting by the ocean, his head in your lap. You and him on opposite sides of the nest, him telling you that it’s okay for you to sleep here. That moment in the oceanside shop- watching you organize his sea spoils, clutching the poem that Tae wrote. Hobi still has it somewhere didn't it say something about keeping you like one of his safe and special things in his pocket?

The moment just before when you’d almost fallen into the ocean and Hobi had felt like for a moment his heart was about to tear out of his chest in panic. When he'd scolded you for not being careful.

This feels just like that, only there are no waves to save you from. Hobi can do nothing but look at you, small and scared and so dangerous in Yoongi’s arms. being held because if he lets you go right now it might have disastrous side effects.

Hobi’s still in the supercut; The moment in the flower shop, both of you behind the frosty glass, side by side. Always next to him, in his passenger seat. Your spot.

Your spot is right next to him and his is right next to you.

How did he not realize? Why did it take him so long to notice this? This living breathing wounded thing in his chest is love. Soft and delightful and terrifying. It's a wounded love, one that needs to be looked after like a wilting flower but still- it's a garden nonetheless.

If home is not where you’re from but where you’re wanted- then does that make Hobi your home?

That first night when you’d been leaving the coffee shop and fallen, seconds before he’d fallen too. You both have matching scars on your hands from that night. Small and barely there. Hobi hardly thinks about it. They’ll certainly heal over with time. But how could he forget that you have matching scars?

Both you and Hobi have always been a mirror, the same image reversed, identical hurts but maybe not identical people, like a funhouse version of the same trauma.

Running from his emotions is simple and easy especially when it's as scary as loving someone so hurt.

Oh he doesn’t want you to hurt. He can't stand it. He loves you, standing there getting scruffed by Yoongi, crying and hurting and dying slowly. But all of you are dying slowly, so what if it takes 80 years roughly- for the dying to stick?

He loves you, and there has never been a more terrible truth. That you have hurt him maybe. The sting from you trying to gaslight him and the others is only just fading and yet- he loves you anyways.

He remembers the night you went racing when his car got dented. He should have known. He should have known when his first instinct upon verifying you were alright was to kiss you senseless.

Hobi looks at you one last time from the open door, standing there, hand on the smooth molding that Yoongi painted shortly after the pack moved in, after Namjoon had accidentally broken part of it while moving in some furniture. Every inch of this house is stitched with familiar moments like that.

How many mornings has he watched you get your coffee? Or that time you’d gotten sick after dinner and Hobi had made you tea to settle your stomach. His heart is clenching so hard at all the memories that it makes him let out a single choked sob. A broken breath.

He can’t bear it. Seeing you look so broken and trying to hide it. Reaching out to him from your mate's arms. He hates it, hates that you’re hurting. That he can’t do anything about it.

At least Yoongi is there, Yoongi will keep you from hurting yourself again. Yoongi is the only one who doesn’t shout his name. Giving Hobi his tacit permission because he knows- he must know.

Maybe Yoongi has known since the beginning.

Hoseok slams the door shut behind him.

~-~

The pack is silent for a few moments after Hobi’s departure. Stunned long enough that you can hear Hobi’s car start with that same rush of gas and nitrous oxide. Everyone is silent as it screeches away from the curb. Too fast. Howling as it tears off down the street.

Far away you think you might hear something honk at him.

They just stand there- looking at you and you feel like you’re under a microscope. Yoongi steps away from you, cupping your cheeks. “Oh pup.”

But your pleas get softer and softer. Jimin is the first one to move, not to you but to the food first. Turning off the burners and pushing the pots back, away from where anyone could touch them. Dismantling the threats before he tends to you.

Jin moves next, because Jimin doesn't go far enough- clearing the pot clear off the counter and dumping them into the sink- food and all. Anything to cool the metal down. anything to make that threat inert as quick as possible.

Yoongi has big rough hands that cup your cheeks, murmuring soft sweet nothings as you cry and cry. Maybe these tears are the ones you choked back. Every time something violent happened to you with Geumjae, after every backhanded slap and forward-facing insult finally released. You saved your tears away for this moment when the sadness wouldn’t stick.

If you bottle up the sadness, it has to get out somehow.

Namjoon beats the rest of them to you. Crossing the room and enveloping you and Yoongi in his long arms. just as quickly you're not just wrapped up in him but everyone. Jungkook all but throws the milk onto the counter in favor of literally trying to pick you up. Tae’s wrist smells rosey where it’s pressed close across your shoulder; anything to get her hands on you. All of them close close close, and you at the center, a careful little bundle.

You say you’re sorry, again and again, but the words are met with shushes. When you are hurting so uncontrollably, what do you possibly have to be sorry for? You bite like a hurt dog, and you never blame the dog, do you? So why blame yourself for hurting, for not doing better when better is just so hard.

Being found out doesn’t feel good. None of this was ever about getting more care or concern- this feels truly awful. Your secret out in the open. Found out. You push at Yoongi’s hands, choking out, trying to be articulate but you’re so soggy.

The others resist for a second, mistaking your fighting for something else, Jimin's hands fall tentatively onto your wrists, unsure if he should hold you back. But Yoongi- Yoongi knows, looking down at you, the hair on the back of his neck curling against the nape.

“Please go- please go after him-” Yoongi doesn’t want to. You can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t want to leave you like this. Can hardly stomach leaving you.

“Sweetheart you just-“

“Yoongi.” Your voice shakes, but you need him to understand you. Hobi just slipped through the door and you want to wonder what will happen if he doesn’t come back. “Go after him- please- Please. Make sure he’s okay.” Thats what I need.

It takes Yoongi a single look to decide it's okay to leave you. He makes eye contact with Namjoon, Tae, Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook to verify that they’ve got you before he moves. Bursting into action. He’s unable to disobey a request from his mate. If this is what will make you better, if Hobi is what will make you better, then Yoongi would drag him back from the gates of hell by his goddamn ear. That stupidly fast stupid fucking car and all.

Yoongi can’t help but think that if you could see the way you look right now- if it was him in your shoes- you’d have never done this.

Yoongi’s kiss to the top of your head is a little forceful, a little tearful too. You don’t realize that he’s been crying too until he wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. Yoongi stumbles, almost falling face first and tripping over the carpet as he looks back. “Jin- Namjoon- look after her. Jimin- don’t let her out of your sight for a fucking second." Joon nods, your pack alpha easily tolerates being ordered about at a time like this.

The pack keeps their voices soft and hushed, the ruined dinner abandoned in favor of comforting an obviously upset packmate. The unanimous decision gets made to usher you upstairs. Their first priority of course is getting you somewhere away from where you could hurt yourself; a place peaceful and safe and comfort incarnate.

The nest.

You don’t know how you really end up there, on the edge of the nest, Jungkook is already inside with fresh blankets. An emergency nesting bundle is already on demand for exact situations like this. He might have said something about there already being one in the direr downstairs getting warmed up. You might have missed it. You're missing a lot of things right now.

When did things that used to feel comforting begin to feel so mundane? It’s not the same as taking it for granted, you’d give anything to be comforted by Jungkook's reassurance that he'll make the best nest he can for you.

You’d give anything to be comforted when Namjoon leans close to kiss your forehead. Lingering there, with his lips against your skin but it feels hollow. Holy mouths cradling the words of god and finding them foreign. False gods and lying prophets. Namjoon's kisses cannot cure everything.

The room is dark, only the light from the bathroom and the changing room spilling into the open space.

“Were you trying to touch the pot to hurt yourself, sweetheart?” You go statue still. Not shaking your head, not showing any sign that you’ve heard Namjoon’s careful prodding at all even though you must have heard his whispered question. Jimin’s hand goes up and down your waist, gently coaxing you into movement. How long has this been going on? How long has the pack been unaware?

“Have you hurt yourself that way before?” Your hands are both clenched into tight fists, the bones and muscles protesting. He drags your hand across his lips, kissing your fingertips, still not looking at his face.

“Don’t be angry with me- please don’t be mad Joonie-“ Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek.

“We’re not angry at you really, we’re not. I’m not. I just want to help, okay? I’m not going to scold you or punish you for this, I don’t think that would help just-” Namjoon swallows, “you’re not going to try again? Are you?” Are you a danger to yourself?

“No” you choke out, “I don’t know. I-” Your words cut off, Your hand is so small when it darts out, circling his wrist, holding on vice tight, your voice rough and ragged. “Namjoon, I think there’s something wrong with me. I think I’m sick.”

Namjoon's breath hitches, and he waits, waits for you to ask him to take you to the hospital. but it doesn't come. Namjoon holds you, his hands around your back vice-like. He can feel the frantic beat of your heart through your shirt.

“It’s okay pup, if there’s something wrong, I can fix it.”

Most of the time, he hopes it's true. This time he knows it means he’ll make it so. He hesitates for a second before detaching from you. Because if you really are sick then maybe a doctor is what you're missing. Maybe you don't need pack alpha Joonie right now, maybe you just need Dr. Kim.

“Gimme a second, okay? I’ll be right back.” You barely have time to miss him or make grabby hands because Jin takes his place the second he steps away from you. Jimin too- descends upon you as Namjoon heads downstairs, taking them two at a time. Almost barreling head-first into Tae catching her at the last second.

“Tae” her name sounds like a wretched gasp coming from Namjoon’s throat, he catches her by the elbows, “could you find me some like- some band aids or something? I have bandages in my bag but-“

Tae looks devastated, eyebrows pulling together, She lets out a shaky breath, eyes glassy, mascara already smudged. “Then she really did it then? Is that why-”

“No- gods no- thank fuck” (Namjoon does not believe in god, but he does believe in the power of Hobi, which is equally as holy in his mind.) “I’m just going to try something different than just cuddling. And I think Band-Aids might help.”

Tae whipes her tears, smudging her eyeliner too in a little panda circle. but she's emboldened with this task to complete. Determined. "Okay, bandaids- got it."

Upstairs, Jin cups your cheeks pushing back your hair from your face and rubbing the tears away with a thumb. Jimin busies himself with unzipping Hobi’s sweatshirt and pushing it off your shoulders to get a look at your arms. You know what he’s doing, checking your body efficiently for marks. Any evidence of hurt.

All of the burns on your hands are days old. Half of them actually were accidents.

Jimin's fingers linger over the burn scar on the inside of your arm, so faint it's barely darker than the color of your skin. The scar is the very first one he ever dotted with burn cream and wrapped with aloe vera. Jimin remembers the very first time he held your hands like this, the very first time he was allowed to.

Have you been hurting like this for that long?

Jimin’s jaw clenches, struggling to keep his scent comforting and mild. It’s only when he verifies that you didn’t actually just get burned a few minutes ago that he nods. Jin speaks, his voice a soft purr. Things are happening so fast, there are so many people around you and yet so few.

Their focus feels suffocating as you cry and cry and cry. He leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, and Jimin continues his careful touches up and down your arms. Soothing the skin there- treasuring it in a way he didn’t before. He'll never take it for granted again wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you snug.

“Oh, my little pup, we’ve been neglecting you haven’t we? Jinnie's so sorry" There is something achingly soft about that. No Daddy, no omega title, just Jinnie. Maybe Jin is just Jin for now. Just exactly who you need him to be. No other esoterisies or other defining egos- just your person.

He coaxes you gently to sit on the bed and half on his lap. Pulling your thighs over his hips to cradle you in a way that would be sexual any other time but isn't right now. Holding you by the back of your neck and the small of your back snug to his hips. Pressed to his chest, smack dab between his pectorals really. buffered by every uneven breath.

"There we go, come nest with me- let me- here-” The nest is the safest place for an unsafe pup. And you sag into it. Jin looms over you, a warm living waiting blanket. Even though it’s a little dark in there. Even though you don’t feel the safest, the pack still is safe, you know that logically- that has to count for something.

Despite your trying, your chest goes leash tight when Jin guides you to it. You perfunctorily start to fluff a pillow. Sniffling. Because you know what being in the nest with Jin and Jungkook usually means. Even if you really don’t have the energy for nesting right now. You perform all that you can.

Until there are arms rope tight around your waist, and a hard body behind yours. The tears drop, pitter-pattering against the coverlet and Jungkook hisses gently.

“No. Stop. Just let us do it.” Jin shakes his head too. You never thought Jungkook and Jin would tag team you like this. But you're in the middle of a Jinkook sandwich. Jungkook teeths restlessly at the back of your neck, not enough of a scruff too soothe you.

“For tonight- this is my nest and you’re my pup, it’s not your job to nest tonight, it’s not your job to do anything but let us look after you.” You gulp, nodding even though you can hardly see.

Namjoon comes back, holding his doctor's bag. You shift back to the edge of the nest where Jimin takes off your socks, feet, and cracked red nail polish that Tae did a few weeks ago on your toenails. The sole memory from a night of happiness stubbornly refusing to fade even though so much has changed.

Maybe the happiness is stubborn too- not just the fear and sadness. Namjoon smiles down at you. Plopping his bag down on the floor (not the nest- because he will not cross-contaminate it). His stethoscope has his initials on it; KNJ in little gold writing. “Alright, lean forward for me.”

You lean forward under Namjoon’s arm so that he can slide your shirt up your back and his hand too. He warms the circle of the stethoscope between his palms before he presses it to your skin.

you breathe when he guides you to do so. “You know I’m not like sick sick- what I said earlier- I didn’t mean like this.” You don’t say something like what you want to, something like mental health isn’t really on the same level as other health- like Jungkook’s seizures or Tae’s hormones. because you know they'd just argue.

Namjoon shakes his head, “Nonsense. If you say you’re sick, then I’m going to treat you like you are.” Namjoon slides the stethoscope from the bottom of your ribs to the top and then over.

“Breathe deep for me. Good pup. Doing so good for me.”

Jungkook fluffs the edge of a blanket, setting one duvet like a layer cake over top of another. “It could be sexy doctor roleplay, we haven’t done that in a while only like- without the sex.”

“Jungkook- now is so not the time.”

“Sorry.”

“Eyes up here, follow the light for me pup, good.” Somewhere between breathing deep for Namjoon and letting him put the blood pressure cuff over your arm, you've stopped crying. He double-checks when he times it. Taking it again just to be sure.

“Your bp's a little high. So no physical activity for the next few hours, it’s probably just the stress. I want to take it again when you've calmed down just to be sure.”

Namjoon gets himself into the nest, caging you in, his medical bag forgotten for now. You feel- you feel so dirty when he looks at you, dripping with sadness as he pulls himself close. Tae comes barreling up the stairs, clutching a little box in her hands, “They were in one of our beach bags, I knew I saw them somewhere weird!”

Namjoon holds out his hand and Tae hands them over. Namjoon sits on his knees, opening them up, already unwrapping one when you spy them in the half-light.

“Band-Aids? What for? I’m not- I didn’t bleed or anything.” You look down at your lap, shame, and relief tightening your fists. “Hobi stopped me.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need them.” Namjoon guides your wrist face up and applies the first one. It's just plain tan but the little baggie that Tae has a few colored ones; ones with hearts on them, even a blue Ryan one. They quickly get distributed amongst the others. Tae delicately places one on your elbow.

“That one wasn’t-“ you try to say, but Jin still presses a kiss to one on your knuckles. Jimin to the ball of your wrist.

“You’re wasting band-aids on me” but they hold your hands, diligently putting one on each little mark, each little thing that might be a mark of self-hatred so keen that you need to make it real.

“They don’t hurt anymore, I don’t even like pick at them a lot.” Jin levels you with a suspicious look. There are maybe less than a dozen little marks up and down your arms. Most of them were accidents, a few were accidents that maybe you saw coming but didn’t avoid, and about 3 or 4 were purposeful.

They don’t discriminate, putting a band-aid on each of them. All of them get covered one by one. Jungkook puts a large one- the kind meant for knee scrapes on one that’s maybe the side of a penny. “Doesn’t matter. if you’re hurting- if you were hurt- we want to fix it for you.” They cover your arms with Band-Aids, and each of them gets one or two marks to cover up, crowding around you.

They don’t even put them only on your bruises and bumps and burns but in other places too. Tae puts a tiny pink one over your mating mark, the torn part at the top of it from Geumjae’s teeth- not the smaller brighter mark in the center that’s Yoongi’s. Jin hesitates, pulling the collar of your shirt down before he puts one over your heart.

Tae watches, thinking of a poem she saw on TikTok a few days back. 'Let me love those bruises out of you, we’ll love like children with a box of bandages, we won’t ask where it hurts, we’ll just kiss all of it.' She could probably find it if she tried hard enough. Maybe later- when you’re sleeping. She already knows that the pack isn’t going to sleep much tonight. The alphas will probably want to switch on and off if anyone can even convince Jimin to sleep at all. Tae knows he’ll take Yoongi’s request of 'don’t take your eyes off of her' literally.

Jimin's on your other side hand around your waist, keeping you from scratching at your skin, maybe you did that a few seconds ago. Your skin burns a little either way. You’re having trouble keeping track of everything that’s happening. But Jimin is watching you like Yoongi said too. He hardly blinks.

When they’re done they let you put on Hobi’s sweatshirt again. Namjoon waits for it to be on all the way before he presses your hand, pulling you to sit next to him, on top of him really.

Namjoon thinks about what this house would be like- if you weren’t here. He thinks about what the pack would be like if you weren’t in it. An image that once upon a time felt complete- now makes his heart pucker sour.

Oh, my fragile little love.

resting against his chest in much the same way that you rested against Jin's, He plays with your fingers, letting you press them against his, how small they care compared to his. In another world maybe you are big and scary. Maybe this is the price you pay for being so small. Too big emotions fill your head begging to be expressed in any way they can. Namjoon plays with your hands while Jin and Jungkook make the nest.

Jungkook ducks low, nuzzling into your cheek, pausing where he was incorporating your big blue blanket tight around you.

“Do you want to like- take a shower or something? Wash the sad off?” You shake your head stubbornly, pressing your cheek further into Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if that would help.”

Jungkook pouts, trying not to be hurt that his suggestion is shut down. Your eyelashes flutter. You are not a fan of confessing things, but Jungkook deserves a lack of…whatever this is.

“I don’t- I don’t like feel clean- like ever.” Your pack waits for you to explain it further, to go into it. And it takes you a breath. You really don’t like talking about it- the grubbiness that’s always lurking just below your skin. The kind that can’t be scrubbed or burned or starved out.

"I can wash my body 100 times and it never takes away what he did from me." Your breath hitches, and you look down at the Band-Aids dotting your arms like constellations. What they hide. "He took so much, sometimes I wonder if you'd love the unamaged version of me more. Sometimes it’s so frustrating not having evidence. Not having a wound that I can nurse and heal and It just- feels better.”

You press your hands flat to your stomach, and you take their silence as something else, some sign of disgust or otherwise (when it's really just devastation. Because what else can they feel upon hearing that there is a version of you that they will never know?) Panic bubbles up and you make excuses because that's all you can do. “It’s fucked up, I know it’s fucked up- You don’t have to say it. Fuck I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m sorry-”

Jimin pulls you snug against him, your hip against his hip, and you realize Jin’s struggling to keep himself from shaking. Your thoughts and words ramble over each other when you’re like this. Anxieties unbound like a wild dog. Jin covers his mouth and turns away for a second to have a quiet freak out about it.

“Don’t apologize. I-“ Jungkook ducks away, hands tight on the blanket. A confession for a confession seems fair. Even if the others will be mad. The words come in a rush once Jungkook’s made the decision to spill them.

“Sometimes, when it feels like I haven’t had a seizure and my body needs to have one, I go to McDonald’s after work and pig out on fries so I can trigger one. Because that feels safer, having control over when I’m gonna get hurt feels safer.”

Namjoon goes deathly still. And Jungkook goes cagey, shoulders pinned to his ears. Jin finally turns back glaring at him. The whole pack glances from him to Namjoon. You wonder if this is what they feel like when they're watching you and Hobi.

“Jungkook-“ Namjoon’s tone is that of a scolding alpha, but your scent eases. You pull yourself over to Jungkook, getting your hand on his and holding it tight.

“No- I get it, I get it so much. I know exactly what you mean.”

Control, and a lack of it. It’s so scary how it can make you act. Control is sometimes more necessary than food or happiness or love.

Namjoon leans in to kiss the shell of your ear rather than shout at Kookie. You whine, a choked needy sound that quickly gets feverish when namjoon mouths at the nape of your neck. an alpha bite so close is a soothing thing.

You squirm a little, both needy and overstimulated a bit. This is the right kind of contact, the kind you usually like but you’re too restless to enjoy it properly right now.

“Do you think Hobi’s going to come back?”

“Of course, he is.”

“If Yoongi can’t get him we’d bring him back.” Jimin and Jin make pregnant eye contact, terse and dark. Harrowing.

You’re not paying attention to Jungkook looking down at his phone vibrating in his lap. “Speak of the devil” he murmurs, unheard by all, Jin gets you a cup of water and hands it to Namjoon. Who feeds sips of it to you like a baby bird.

Jungkook's phone is as bright as a passing comet, hope visible to the naked eye.

Hoe-baby (8:56): If she sleeps before I’m home you better get her a fucking nightlight or something. Don’t let it be dark when she’s sleeping. Pass it on.

Hoe-baby (8:56): Don’t tell her I’m texting you this either.

Hoe-baby (8:56): I mean it Koo

Jungkook (8:57): 👍👍👍

Jungkook (8:57): but also 👀

Hobi doesn’t respond but Jungkook is generally obedient if the stakes are high enough. An idea lights his eyes (bright and sparkly). He slips from the nest with a “one second” and heads downstairs, his absence goes uncommented on as he disappears into one of the closets, searching through winter coats and gloves and mittens for the box labeled christmas decorations.

The others keep you substantially occupied in his absence. “My pup.” Seokjin murmurs, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek. The gentle contact draws your teary eyes from the nest to meet Jin’s concerned gaze. His calming pheromones swell thicker in the air, instinctively trying to soothe you without even touching you.

How selfish it is to take this night; this could have been a good night if you’d only-

Jimin yanks you clean into his lap, and you go from sitting sort of curled up over yourself in Namjoon's lap to lounging across his body in two seconds. “Stop it.” Jimin’s words are a growl, his touch forceful as he hunches over you. “Stop whatever you’re thinking about right now and listen to us.”

His thumb slides down your cheek from your ear to your chin. “Your scent does this thing and your pupils constrict you know- when you think self-deprecating shit.”

“Sorry.” you squeak, letting him tilt your head to the side. It feels better to be under his touch, his harsh hand anchoring. “It’s just hard-I’m just,” The wobbliness of your voice betrays you.

Teeth feel sharp when they nip at the back of your neck making your legs turn to jelly. Jimin gives you another soothing nip after the first, several in quick succession- Making your scent burst sweet Just a little. it’s a start. He dips down and laps at your salty cheeks, his thumbs continuing their steady circular rhythm on your scent gland, releasing the tightness in your chest forcefully.

It’s very very hard to be sad with Jimin scruffing you like that, pulling the skin taut. Choking you a bit so that you can feel every breath. It’s settling. Makes you sniffle and teeter when he lets you go. Namjoon doesn’t pull you back to sit in a more equal position, instead watching you with a warm satisfied gaze. He nuzzles closer to Jimin’s side. Pausing to drag his cheek down the side of your head, his short-cropped hair feels all spiky.

In Jimin’s lap, a safe cradle. Namjoon’s hands skim up and down your arms, lingering on your hands. Namjoon swallows thick, there isn’t an easy way to ask. “You told me not to push you, you know, and I won’t but-” Namjoon's warm palms cover yours, “you make it a little hard not to.”

“I know.” Your throat is tight with anguish. You’re surprised you have any more tears left.

“Was there something- anything- that we did? Or didn’t do?” Namjoon has been waiting to ask about his rut, waiting for days since Hobi confessed he had his suspicions, his suspicions that obviously must be correct.

“No- there wasn’t anything, it’s just me Joonie- I promise.”

Namjoon swallows. He doesn’t like to cry and has never been an easy crier, but it's a struggle to not let them take him right now. “I wish I could fix it.”

“You do fix it." You try for a smile but fall abysmally short. You don’t trust your wobbly voice enough to speak again, and carefully snuggle into Namjoon’s chest.

You’re breathing sort of heavy, sort of shallow too, the kind of breath that sticks when it rolls beneath your rib cage and feels like a death rattle. Jimin presses his hand to your stomach, holding it like he can keep the anguish at bay. He does for a second. A silent sentinel. A guard. He’s living up to Yoongi’s orders and following them to a T like the good alpha that he is.

Jungkook reappears, clutching a green tangle in his hands, you mistake it for one of hobi's pathos vines- “hang on, I just have to check to make sure they’re working-” he plugs them in, holding the Christmas lights like a mini constellation of stars that light him up from below. All of them work. "Ah-ha!"

“What are you doing with those?”

“In the nest- Hobi-” Jungkook breaks off, worried after a second that mentioning him will reaggravate your wounds.

You sit up a little bit more, “Hobi what?”

"He texted. Said you might want some of these, for a nightlight.” Jungkook holds up the lights and they clatter into each other with a faint tinkle. they're the brightest thing in the room.

You deflate a little, but Namjoon rubs his arm up and down your side. "I'm not a kid, it's not like it's the dark it's just the nightmares-"

"For the record, none of us would judge you if you were scared of the dark."

"Yeah- Hobi's scared of snakes and I'm scared of microwaves sometimes."

"I'm scared of spiders."

"Tae- Everyone's a little scared of spiders."

"I'm not!"

Their teasing brings a small smile to your lips, even if it is a little bit wet. Namjoon ducks down to press his lips to your forehead. “He’ll be back before morning sweetheart, I promise.”

“Okay,” you look like you don’t have any more energy to argue- to be sad over this. Re-settling against Namjoon’s chest. Watching Jungkook detangle the lights while Jin ducks downstairs to get the command hooks (dissatisfied with Jungkook’s chosen thumbtacks, the last thing you need is these falling on top of you while you sleep)

Jin stands with Tae, feet depressing the nest as he helps her, passing them back and forth. Jungkook found two strings of 100, and it's more than enough to go up and down the sides of the nook a few times and crisscross the top.

“Wait- let's plug this one in over here so we can turn it on with the light switch-”

"No Jk not like that."

They go back and forth, making quick work of it. Slowly the nesting nook brightens. Not too bright, but just enough that you can see the light when your eyes flutter closed. It might not be that late, but you're bone tired.

“Are you sure? Isn’t this gonna like- keep you all awake.”

Jimin sits up, “I got you like- a million silk face masks Tae. In that one box?”

“The silk night clothes set you got me from that fancy Italian designer.” You know the one, Tae wears them a lot, you wear them too- even though her pants are a little long on you. Tae leaves and gets the night masks (stored away in a drawer where Jungkook has been putting all of her accessories in the other room).

She retrieves them, a whole handful, and leaves them by the front of the nest for everyone to pick the one they want. Jimin snags the black one. Jungkook the purple one with the red hearts and Namjoon the one with the frog eyes. Each different one, a different color. They’ll sleep with them on tonight for you if it means it makes you feel a little safer.

“Isn’t that- too much?” You ask, “We don’t have to leave them on.” Tae pulls herself over kind of sprawled across your legs, with Namjoon on one side, Jimin on the other, and Tae at your front. You’re about as safe as an omega could possibly get. Surrounded on all sides by your alpha's.

And still, you miss Hobi.

You can't believe what you did, what you said to him, even though it was in the heat of the moment.

“It’s not too much, not if it helps."

Tae sits close, holding onto your leg for a second before you switch spots, and you’re lying across Namjoon and across Jimin and across her. Namjoon’s hands tease at your skull. Big big hands that hold you and keep the world at bay while you watch Jin and Jungkook set up the Christmas lights.

They’re a little too messy where Jungkook puts them up and a little too orderly where Jin strings them but together it’s the perfect mix.

You watch them with the alpha, the pretty twinkle, the little shadows that they cast on the ceiling. Namjoon sighs “It’s kind of crazy that humans made those just cuz.”

“I was ready about death myths the other day,” Tae says, too close to the point of this all, her voice a low murmur. But her tone is casual. The idea of death has never been scary for Tae. If anything in those brief moments when she came out it felt a bit too much like salvation. you don't know what about namjoon's comment made her think of that- but tae's mind has always worked in mysterious beautiful ways.

stories always sound a little too real, a little too close to being torn into existence, when the words fall from her tongue. “In the Aztec religion they say that a dog guides you along the first like- layer of the afterlife. And if you didn’t have one in this life you can’t get across.”

“We had farm dogs, growing up,” Namjoon says, “I don’t know if that counts.”

Jungkook snorts, and at the same time you both respond, “There’s always Hobi” “Dibs on Yoongi”

One second you’re looking at each other, heads tipped back in laughter, rolling over and pressing your face into his heaving chest, and the next you’re crying. “Sorry- sorry” you’re half laughing half crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” sad and happy at the same time. it feels good, being sad-happy feels so good when you have people that take care of you in the right ways.

And still, You miss Yoongi. And still, you miss Hobi.

You curl away, getting your cheek on Tae's thigh. She must not have shaved in a few days because it feels all stubbly, but in that pleasant worn sensory sort of way. You wipe your tears on her skin and she makes a fond sound. “It’s okay baby, you cry as much as you need to- laugh as much as you need to too.”

Tae is looking at you, eyes darting from your lips to your hands to your eyes, especially when you rub your clenched fist across them, lying in her lap looking fragile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just” Tae breathes deep and slow, so that she doesn’t cry, “I just look at you, and I love you, and I just want you to be alright.”

For once in her life Tae doesn’t have the words. Sitting there with you a mess on the inside and a slightly more put togeather mess on the outside. Her bracelets jingle when she wipes her eyes.

Her chest feels too tight, too small for all the love inside of it (boobs are where the love is stored, and Tae's still a B cup at best). Butterflies flutter around her ribcage but it's always that way when she looks at you. You reach up to tangle your hand in those bracelets. They're a mess of silver chains and smaller ones that Jimin got for her. Some of them she got when she was still play-acting as a boy. She still wears them almost every day.

“More than anything, I just- I love being with you. I love being a girl with you. Being with you makes it easier to love me, and the idea that I can’t do the same for you- that hurts." Her voice quiets. "You’re so strong- I think about it a lot you know. That first day.”

You can’t stop the sad smile from tugging at your cheeks. “When I shouted at that alpha for you?”

“Yeah, that. If there was someone I could shout at, I’d scream. If there was a story I could write for you that would make you better I’d write until my fingers bleed.

"I look at you and there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you. If I could be a dog, I’d wait to take you to the other side. I’d wait forever.” Her tears feel treacherous, unwanted, because now you’re crying again too. You start to pull yourself over to her only to have her shush you. You lie your legs across her legs and cry together, sniffling, wiping at each other’s faces. You murmur that you love her and she says it back too.

“Can you read me a story?” You sniffle, eyes darting to the others, cautious "The way you do when it's just us?" But Tae nods easily. This is easy to concede. She'd give you whatever you wanted right now regardless of the potential for judgment (the pack would never judge her, would never dream of it but the fear is still there.)

“I think I really do just need to sleep.”

Jin stoops to give you a good night's kiss. "We can talk more in the morning, once you've had some real rest."

"In the morning, when Hobi's back," you agree.

Tae detangles herself from you with a final kiss and goes downstairs, just as Jin and Jungkook finish the Christmas lights. They glitter above you in the perfect constellation of light. The perfect bright spot in the sea of darkness. You wonder what it looks like from the outside. If the people on your street can see the light up here through the windows.

Her footsteps creak on the steps, and someone knots their hand in your hair, scratching against your scalp. You don’t have to look and see who. You’re sort of hungry. Sort of nauseous too.

You’re halfway through the third book in the Percy Jackson series but Tae doesn’t bring that up. Instead, she brings her laptop.

There are stickers on the edge that she got from a makeup company, a heart with a funky face; yellow lips and straight across eyebrows, a sparkly boba one, and a tiny blue bunny. Tae sits and scoots up to sit by Namjoon. Everyone goes still, unwilling to spook Tae if it’s something that she’s ready to share.

She’s never read you her writing before and you won’t miss this chance. Jimin pulls himself along your spine, nosing at your shoulder until you turn so he can rub your back. Your shoulders are always sort of tense, always sort of hard, a sign of bad posture or post-traumatic stress disorder maybe. Constant fear and anxiety can do a whole lot of damage to your body if left unchecked.

“Switch off with me when your hands get tired yeah?” Jungkook says, and your eyes flutter as Jimin pushes you to lie belly down into the bed, it feels so soft you think it might swallow you whole. You think you’d like that a little too much. But you also think that the pack would want to know that so you say it.

“Tell us okay? when you have any more thoughts like that, we want to hear them.”

“They scare me less when I tell you them. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Tae’s left hand is in your hair and she uses her right to scroll through her Word document. Jimin’s hands work at your shoulders. Rubbing in smooth little circles finding the knots and eliminating them with a practiced ease.

“Are you- ugh, okay with starting at a part I don’t think is best, I’m really shaky on the beginning?”

“Sure-“

“Whatever part you want to read Tae,” she licks her lips. It takes her a second to find her place, scrolling past carefully spaced paragraphs and dialogue then back because the end of the story is definitely not what she's most comfortable sharing (not to mention the death scenes and that weird fight scene, Tae hates how she can't make written word feel like an action movie).

Tae’s strong suit has always been the dialogue, the in-between parts are a little bit more malleable and prone to re-working.

She takes a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the light of the Christmas lights are behind them, soft and yellow. A glow that you don’t just see but feel too.

And then Tae begins.

“Holly Homburg felt her nose to see if it was broken. It was not the first time she’d been hit in the face, and she knew it would not be the last...”

~-~

After the whole dead body incident, The pack had decided unanimously to turn on their phone locations. Yoongi's thankful for that now. Finding Hobi is not as difficult as it might have been a few short weeks ago.

Yoongi watches the little blue dot plod along and after looking around a little it's easy to tell where he's going. He follows it like a beacon ushering him across the great beyond (or perhaps the way a dog might follow a long-loved soul).

All lost things, no matter how big and broken, end up in the ocean someday.

As far as Yoongi knows this is the first time that Hobi's been back to the beach since that night. But if he cannot be close to you right now without fucking things up then maybe this is the next best place.

The ocean feels as tumultuous as Hobi’s soul, dark and teeming with hidden slimy dangerous things. Turning back and forth, a comforting lull that drowns out Hobi’s thoughts and the itch under his skin. Hobi doesn't like feeling his instincts, doesn't like that they're scratching up the wall. hoseok's alpha fights to convince him to go back, gnawing at the corner of his mind like an under stimulated dog. but there's only one thing, one person that Hobi's alpha wants, and he's not ready for that yet.

The sea tosses spray high into the air like all the words Hobi wishes he could shout and scream. White foam catches the half-full moon's light frothing with hidden violence as hungry as Hobi’s soul.

Yoongi’s beat-up sneakers sink into the sand as he slows his pace. Hoseok's on the edge of the crashing waves, his ass is probably getting wet. But Yoongi’s too worried to care about the sand in his shoes, about anything else as he rushes. Worried, worried more when he see Hoseok's wet cheeks.

Hoseok turns abruptly at the sound of him approaching, Yoongi’s hair pushed up by the sea spray. He jolts to his feet almost shoving Yoongi back with how quick and hard he grips the other's jacket. His first reaction isn’t of thanks. His first reaction is nearly shouted, an alpha barking orders. Bearing his teeth. His cheeks are wet, he's still crying. Yoongi wonders how the fuck he even drove here without crashing.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go the fuck home.” Yoongi should be home, should be with you, comforting you in the way that only Yoongi can. There is no one you need more than him.

But Yoongi could ask him the same question. Could say the same bitter accusation. Both of them should be home.

“She asked me to come get you.” Hobi huffs, a little gentler. “Do you really think I’d have left if she hadn’t?”

Hobi twists out of yoongi's hands like even the barest mention of you is too much for him right now. “I’m not going back yet, I need-” His hands flex and clench over and over again like he doesn't know what to do with his body. But Yoongi is already pulling him back down to the sand, making to sit next to him. Hobi's knees bury themselves in the sand as he falls, brought so low as to kneel before the sea and ask it for answers. He put his hands in the cold sand, a necessary anchor for his tumultuous thoughts.

Yoongi's sitting close enough to feel his heat. It’s a cold night, not as cold as the night you found the dead body, but still cold. “Jesus Christ, you didn't have to fucking come get me. I just need a fucking minute.”

“Daisy.” Yoongi chides. Yoongi never gets frustrated and that’s part of the problem. He's always gentle, always soft. If Hobi was more like him then maybe he'd stand a chance. Hobi knows even though nothing's happened yet, that whatever love he's prepared to give you will barely hold a candle to Yoongi's sunshine.

“Okay, then I’ll sit here until you do. Keep you company.”

So much of love is just that, just keeping each other company. Hobi's cheeks burn with mortification because he knows Yoongi's watching him. Not watching the ocean. The whole point of sitting so close is that it's right there and still, Yoongi does not look away.

Hobi hasn’t even gotten his headphones, the emergency pair he always keeps in the car. He’s just there, sitting in silence and now he's being watched Which honestly makes him a little annoyed.

Yoongi sits, he sits for a good few minutes. Until he can’t handle the silence any longer.

“She didn’t mean it. You know she didn’t.” Yoongi is not one to make excuses for people behaving badly but maybe when it comes to you there isn't an excuse he wouldn't make. Hobi doesn’t know if pulled punches ever deserve a thank you.

But Hobi knows you, how many times have you talked about trauma making you feel less than human? Is it ghosts or animals that you prefer? Hobi would not blame a cornered dog for nipping. He's an alpha after all, it's hard to forget that an alpha hurt you.

Hobi wonders what Geumjae was like.

Hobi tucks his eyes below his crossed arms. One hand on either knee, Nobly and boney against Hobi’s thin fingers and knuckles. “You don’t understand hyung, but she does, she does- and she did it anyway. And- and it doesn't even matter, because-”

Anger isn’t what he’s sick with- although it might be a symptom of the larger issue. Love is never quite so easy to diagnose (Hobi has learned this mentality from Namjoon). Love is not dangerous, love is not an illness, but it feels like maybe it should be.

"Because she’s, my mate?”

"No" Hobi chokes out. The tears on his cheeks slowly swallowed the sea spray, combining with it on his cheeks. Hobi’s crying so hard he can’t see anything, can’t see the ocean or the moonlight.

"You don't understand hyung,”

The truth wrenches clean from Hobi’s chest. He’s always been too honest for his own good. Honesty feels a bit like violence when he'd rather lie. Rather keep this secret for a little while longer. He could lie- a rose colored lie insead of a white one. But the truth is pointless and hopeless, as unavoidable as the advancing tide. The ocean crashes barely a foot from Hobi's knees, every few waves it gets a little closer.

No one but Yoongi could hear Hobi shout over the sea-spray, the beach is as abandoned as the end of the world. a separate planet made only for people who love you hopelessly.

“You don’t understand hyung, I love her and she's hurting, she’s hurting and I can’t do anything to make it better."

Yoongi pulls Hobi snug along his side, holding him tight- as tight as his arms will allow. Yoongi’s never felt broader or stronger or more worthwhile as he pulls Hobi to lie next to him, holding in the pieces as they break and crumble and Hobi sobs.

"I know Daisy, I know."

"She’s dying and I can't make it better." He repeats, like a broken record on repeat.

Yoongi drags his mouth across Hobi's forehead. "Sucks, right? It hurts right where it feels good, Like a tack in a piece of gum."

Hobi laughs wetly. "That is like the weirdest fucking analogy you could think of." And yet Hobi finds himself licking his lips testing for blood. Confessing to Yoongi is the first step in all of this, although Hobi should really be saving these words for you. Telling your mate is the first necessary step.

There is no illness and there is no cure for what you're stuck with, either time will heal all wounds or it won’t. Either you’ll get better or something else down the line will send you hurtling down this same path. Hurling like a fast car without a roll cage or a burning fallen star. Time will tumble you smooth and small like the waves turn glass into sand.

Into to nothing.

Hobi is struck by how afraid he is of that. Of something making you worse, of anything taking you from this living and glowing thing in his chest. He's scared of the sadness taking you.

When Hobi was a child, his parents always worked nights.

It didn’t suck too bad. There was always food in the fridge and the bills always got paid on time. Hobi had an iPad and more than enough art supplies to keep him occupied.

But every time he came home after school it would always be to a dark house. He’d have to do it all himself; turn the lights on, do the dishes from breakfast, fix the heat in the winter and wait for the house to heat up.

But when Hobi thinks of you it feels like you’ve left a light on, burning in his heart. A safe place he can always retreat to. Someone he can think about without it hurting most of the time. A person he can love without feeling like he’s giving up something. He doesn’t know when loving you became so real and tangible and glowing, but now that he’s burning it’s hard to stop.

He remembers that moment in the car before you’d gone to the burger place that became your haunt. Your spot, besides the ocean and Hobi’s car (maybe none of these places are saturated with nostalgia, maybe Hobi can only fall in love with you once, and the fact is he’s been doing it without savoring every moment is kind of terrible to consider. He'd have appreciated every second of it if he knew).

He remembers when you said, “Can you make it just the way I like it?”

Hobi doesn’t think he can make this love just the way you like it, at least not without it hurting like this. He’s a person just like you are, full of anger and grief and a terrible furious sort of will.

There is futility in it, in knowing that love doesn’t matter if It’s not given in the right way. That love doesn’t mean shit.

"I love her, and I can't do anything to make it better." Hoseok sobs, a little quieter.

“I know” Yoongi presses their foreheads together. “Trust me, Daisy, I know.” Hobi swallows the last of his tears against Yoongi's collarbones, and Yoongi bears the sandy imprints of hobi's fingers where he gripped him.

Yoongi tangles their hands together on the sand. Grainy and gritty. It feels right for the first time since Yoongi left all those months ago. It's almost been a full year since yoongi left, almost- Hobi's pretty sure he left this weekend last year. It feels like a full circle moment, Yoongi's left and come back and everything's different.

"I think i'm ready to go home now."

The waves crash back and forth. Unforgiving and unrelenting.

“I think I am too.”

~-~

The house is quiet when Yoongi and Hoseok get home. Dark except for a faint glow in the upstairs that just might be someone awake. Tae's library room light is the only one left lit on the first floor and Yoongi shuts it off before they go upstairs while Hobi settles himself. Takes a few steadying breaths of the pack's scents in the foyer.

He still doesn't know what he's going to say, he almost doesn't want to say anything yet, but he has a feeling you're going to pull it out of him regardless of what he intends.

Everyone in the pack smells vaguely food like; Yoongi's chocolate, Jungkook's honey and Jin's cream, Namjoon's coffee and Jimin's vanilla. Tae's cinnamon And your warm baked bread sugar. It smells muted here. The pack's unhappy scents have dissipated and been replaced with a solid not sad- not happy baseline. Any sadness has long been talked through and left for another moment.

It smells like home to Hobi. It smells like you.

Hobi’s eyes twinkle when they reflect the Christmas lights upon cresting the top of the stairs. Jungkook did as asked, probably a better job than Hobi could have done. He doesn’t know why he waited so long to put this idea into action. Maybe he thought that you wouldn’t accept it. Infringing on the pack like this.

Jimin’s still up, sprawled out with you lying on his chest, shirt removed sometime during cuddling. He's leaning back against the headboard with one arm behind his head, the other cradles your cheek where it rests. Watching. Not removing his eyes from you as promised.

Hobi watches as he murmurs something soft to you, pecking your forehead gently.

You'd woken a little while ago- not from a nightmare this time. Your stomach hurts and you're vaguely hungry because you hadn’t eaten anything earlier. No one had the heart to force you. Although you were glad for it at the moment, now you kind of wish you had if only to rid yourself of this familiar hollow ache.

Jimin's eyes flicker up at the sound of someone on the stairs and his grip on your cheek goes tight for a second before Jimin recognizes the figures on the stairs. Hobi makes eye contact with Jimin first, and you follow his eyes.

The two of them stand at the top of the stairs in shadow. It doesn't scare or startle you. You'd know your mate blind.

“Hey,” Hobi whispers, a little nervous. Mindful of the others, still asleep and ringing you cuddled at the center, their chests rising and falling softly.

Jimin looks a bit like he doesn’t want to let you go when you pull yourself to the edge of the nest, half hidden behind the gauzy curtains, lit from within. A careful little bundle of light. Perfectly safe. Hoseok's instincts stops their teething.

You teeter to the edge of the nest, holding the gauzy curtains to keep yourself from falling out of it. “You- you came back” you choke out, not sure why you’re surprised.

This is Hobi’s home after all. Closer up, Hobi notes your red-rimmed eyes, your voice raw like you talked this through with them for hours before you finally slept.

You hold each other apart for another breath before you're both moving, Colliding almost with how quickly you both move to cling. Hobi stumbles, socks wet and slippery. Reaching out to hold you the second you reach back. Hobi smells like the ocean when you press your face into his jacket, fingers hooking into the rip at the collar unintentionally as you hold the back of his neck.

Your body is warm and safe and alive in his arms and he almost wants to sag in the relief of it. But the hug doesn't last, hugs never last as long as you want them to. No sooner are you squeezing him than are you pulling back, eyes swimming with tears again.

“I’m so sorry Hobi," fresh tears build and spill down your cheeks. He's already shaking his head, already denying you your apology. "I’m sorry I tried to convince them you were lying, I’m sorry I-“ You break off. “I promise I’ll never do that again.”

Hobi cups your cheek, “Jesus, this is the second time I’ve made you cry today.” But his own eyes are wet and glassy.

“You dummy. You’re allowed to make me fucking cry as many times as you want if-” Hobi holds your face, thumbs skimming the top of your cheek bones, such a tender touch.

Hobi has never touched you like this, cupping both your cheeks so gently, your body shaking with his relieved laughter. His laugh- like a breeze coaxing a fire to burn, makes a giggle build in your chest too. His hair flops when he shakes his head. Neither of you should be laughing, but you are. Bodies light in relief that the other is okay. That you're okay.

This living breathing love between the two of you is undamaged by the words you said in fear. Before Hobi came up the stairs he wasn't sure that he forgave you but now that you're in his arms, he's not even thinking about the gaslighting.

How did he not realize for so long?

His eyes flash from your eyes to your lips. “You can’t…you can’t do that anymore, okay? I think I’ll go crazy if you try and hurt yourself again- I think I’ll-” Hobi knows it’s not the right thing to say, but what else can he say? Logically? What words could he have that would ever cancel out your pain?

But he doesn't know what else to say, he just doesn't want you to hurt. Hobi can do little more than say it and then try to keep you underfoot.

“I won’t I’ll-” Resolve swells in your chest; the better-looking cousin to shame. “I’ll try. I’ll tell you when I want to so you can hold me back again, okay?” Hobi nods, eyes shining in the dark.

If they smothered you with love, would you even have time to hurt? or has distracting you from your problems only gotten you here.

He goes quiet and when you pull him into the nest, he goes easy. Staying there perched on his knees. Smelling like seawater. His hair a salty sticky tangle. Tucking his head in close, and burying his face in your shoulder again. Fingers tangling in your shirt.

Yoongi makes a soft noise noting the band-aids on your arms. Hobi didn't notice them either until he drags your arm up into the light.

You grimace. “It’s silly- I told them they didn’t need to, but-“

Yoongi shakes his head, long hair flopping. “It’s better, this is better. It’s not a waste.” Yoongi is a man of few words, and your confession and apology has made him even quieter than usual.

He likes watching people he loves fall in love. it's kinda like watching a special rom-com written just for him.

Hobi taps his fingers along the Band-Aids, thinking back to that moment. his voice is quiet but it still comes out like an accusation. "You could have told me; I was standing right there. You could have told me."

"I'm sorry i didn't say anything."

Hoseok swallows hard, "Why didn't you?"

“It’s not that I don’t ever want to tell you, it's that I don’t want to scare you. Sometimes I think things that aren’t the kindest about me." your cheek tips to the side, catching the shadow from the christmas lights, all chiaroscuro. "It’s scary.”

You are a frightened little thing, a world full of shadows and band-aids on half-healed hurts. But if there are scary shadows in your head, then Hobi will be your nightlight. “I don’t think you could ever scare me."

“I don’t want to make you worried then.”

Hobi shakes his head, stubborn. “That’s what you don’t get, when you make us worried, it doesn’t hurt. I mean of course it’s worry- but it feels good. It feels good that I'm the one who gets to worry over you. We’re a family. And I don’t just say that because it's true. I say that because I'd choose you to be my family every time. Every time I’d choose this. So, worrying kind of comes with it. It’s not just terms and conditions. Worrying about you is why I'm here, what I'm here for.”

Behind you, Yoongi nods. “Heavy things aren’t a burden if you choose to carry them.”

It's not a confession, but what do the words 'I love you' mean when the sentiment is the same? Hobi is your person. If Jimin and Tae are soulmates and so are Namjoon and Jin- then maybe you and Hobi are kind like that too.

In another world, Yoongi might never have mated you. Maybe hobi would have.

You breathe deep, letting the words wash over you, a little sick with it. A little quiet.

He tangles his hand with yours, “If you stay, I’m staying. If you hurt- I’m hurting too so- you can’t hurt me alright?” His lower lip wobbles and you lean your forehead against his.

“Alright.” You agree. Quiet with the weight of it.

Yoongi drags you into the bathroom and you brush your teeth elbow and elbow with Hobi, changing into your pajamas in silence. “You didn’t eat anything did you?” Yoongi asks, and you shake your head easily this time.

That’s how you end up eating ramen with Hobi on the bathroom floor. Lounging on the heated slate when Yoongi turns them on to keep you warm. You nibble on some of the bread that was baked for dinner and pass your chopsticks back and forth between the three of you. You don’t know if the rest of the pack ate after you fell asleep. Jin’s a little anal about it so probably. And then you brush your teeth again because really who wants to go to bed tasting like garlic and chapagetti?

“Where did you go?” Hobi drags his face wash through his bangs too- just to get rid of the salt a little.

“Our spot.”

“Oh.” You rub your hands against the flannel shorts you wear. hobi pokes your hand with his pinky, skimming up your knuckle. he feels like he can't keep from touching you, just little touches, cradling your hands when it holds the disposable chopsticks so that you don't drop a noodle, cupping your elbow when you move to get the mouth wash. Each touch heavier and needier than the last.

“Get me any sea glass?”

“Next time” he promises, hands warm with the prospect of it. Mind teaming with the idea of next time. There will always be a next time.

“I hate that we haven’t gone back since…” you trail off.

“I do too.” I hate a lot more than that, like how I can’t just fucking say it right now. Hobi wants to tell you he loves you and wants to free this slimy living thing like hope from his chest. But it's hard.

But everything is fine. He can wait a little longer.

In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is just perfectly fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine. Everything is in fact- falling together so beautifully. Hobi loves you like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Throat burning with the words he just won’t release. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you. You and Hobi can only hope.

It’s only hope afterall, how much damage can it really do?)

When you walk into the nest room, the lights are still on. The christmas lights twinkle and the pack has left all of them on for you. Tae’s sleep masks are distributed among them. Jimin's finally fallen asleep, released from his promise.

And when you get into the nest- Hobi pulls you back into the center of it. Yoongi on your other side as you burrow sleepily into Hobi's chest, head tucked a little lower than his heart. You fall asleep easily because you’re worn out a little from all that crying. Hobi stays awake a little longer. Just to make sure you don’t have another nightmare. Just to watch you sleeping soundly.

But for once, your chest rises and falls easily, your demon’s exorcised for now. If they come back, Hobi will fight them off tooth and nail. Blood and claw.

Yoongi’s hand cards through his hair, gentle enough to make the soft growl-grumble in Hobi’s chest taste like a needy keen.

“When are you going to tell her?” he asks, voice honey homey whisper soft.

“Eventually,” Hobi nibbles on his lip. Your warm breathe teases the soft skin of his neck, the first easy breaths you've taken in days. “Soon.”

Yoongi hums, a deep-seated noise of approval.

“Soon,” he agrees.

~-~

Read Tae's book: 'Girls and Other Dangerous Things' Here

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Chapter 59 notes

i can't believe it took me 700,000 words for hoseok to realize he's in love 😂 but also 💀 honestly they should have kissed, but tbh, i kinda want their verbal love confession to come after they fuck for the first time.

i love how the chapter begins with the m/c waking up to hobi taking care of her and ends with her falling asleep next to him. About a year ago some fucker on tictoc said something about ed's that triggered me into the biggest ed relapse i've ever had, and there is a moment here where the mc says something really similar in her internal monologue, I almost edited it out about a million times but decided to keep it in the end.

This is the m/c's make it or break it moment like- mentally- this is either the moment that she's going to get better or not. the moment that sort of defines her recovery in a way.

for a very very long time i have been in the place where the m/c is in this chapter, these cusps of "am i going to relapse am i going to get better?" can last for a very long time- the moments where you're not sure you're ever going to get better than then decide that it doesn't matter you still have to try anyways. its very very difficult to articulate- but i hope if you're in this place too- you just keep trying. i don't have the words or all the solutions for you. But sometimes you just need to keep what you're doing and try even when it feels terrible and useless.

During the part where the m/c is about to have her breakdown, i tried to write it with the feeling like the pack is a little further away from the scene because i don't think the m/c is aware of their movements- she's definitely heavily dissociating during that part.

the part where Namjoon gets out his doctors bag and takes the m/c's like- vital signs- is lowkey my favorite part of this chapter- baring hobi's, "you don't understand hyung" lines (which have been written for like a full year tbh) i think deep down with my recovery, the only thing i've ever wanted is to be treated like i'm as sick as it feels like i am.

I personally think it's really funny that hobi texts jk and tells him not to tell them/c that he's thinking about her and then immediately tells her exactly that. jk is so untrustworthy i sorta love him for immediately snitching. its for their own good! jk is such a little shit and it's so apart of his character.

Tae's book- ie 'girls and other dangerous things' is a story that i wrote when i was 15 and is the origin of my pen name! originally- i made this blog as a space for me to try and talk about it and post a few parts of it, i forgot about it for a few years and then when i started to get into kpop i kinda naturally put all my fandom stuff here. the truth is i would have referenced one of my other stories- like 'Don't care if it hurts' or 'Reasons wretched and divine' but i've already referenced those in this story so i needed new material and i felt like i couldn't use any of those. what a full circle moment!

I did not get to edit the end of this chapter as much as i wanted too- but thats okay, i think at this point. The people who still want to read this story are reading it to the end. i'm making it what i want- not necessarily something that will impress a bunch of people. This is just the way the story is <3 messy and complicated just like life.

as always <3

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.60)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Life changes come in many many forms; courting gifts, leaving jobs, and...Murder

Tags: Slow burn getting warmer, Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Trans! Tae, Transphobia, gender thoughts, workplace discrimination, flashbacks, murder, the word 'r*pe' is used to describe what Geumjae did to her but there are no graphic depictions of it, allusions to physical abuse, graphic violence, there is a brief moment where someone not in the pack touches the m/c's ass without her consent, blood, briefly implied suicidal actions- but it's nothing like what you haven't seen before.

W/c: 12.6k

A/n: i'll be attending my cousin's wedding at the time this is posted so! give me lots of love when you read it cuz i'm so nervous~ i've never been around so many fancy people before <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

You dab at the skin under your eyes carefully. You know they must look red and puffy. Tae’s careful instruction to treat your skin well as all good baby pups should has somehow stuck.

Even here. Even now.

“Do people like always loose it with you? Like when they walk in, do they all cry?”

Your therapist (yes, your therapist) across the narrow room is the opposite of threatening; soft face, pulled back hair, neutral clothing that might just as well be out of a country living catalog.

You don’t know where Jin found her, what little medical booklet he perused like a take-out menu, or how much her services cost per hour. Those kinds of details were not for delicate little pups like yourself to worry over in his opinion.

Most of the time, you're glad not to have to worry about things like this. But right now you're chomping at the bit. Weighting your odds. The other unknowns hover before you. One sticks out. One you're most concerned about.

Is she trustworthy?

Nothing about Dr. Rima seems outwardly threatening, yet you curl in on yourself. She smiles, scrawling something on the top of her notepad before she answers, and something taught in you ticks tighter.

“You’re correct in assuming that most people I meet cry in the first few minutes when they meet me, but you are the first person to cry on my threshold. Most of the time people wait until they’re at least in the chair.”

That has a smile tugging at your lips, albeit unwillingly. Your smile is like a leashed wild animal, with too many teeth when you feel threatened. Contained for now.

If you got up and walked out right now, would she call someone to restrain you? Will you be committed if you tell the truth? Or are you just misinterpreting the stakes?

You are here of your own volition. Even if it was a condition that Jin and Namjoon weren't willing to budge on after the events of last week. It's not like the pack is having you put in a mental institution or something, although they did come with you today. For moral support.

The waiting room was stuffy and yellow, one of those little waterfall mirrors in the corner that you’d watched in a fog sat between Yoongi and Jimin while Jin filled out the necessary paperwork. His pen hovering over the small boxes every few seconds. He'd taken the afternoon off of work to make sure he was there, just to fill out paperwork.

Are you on any medications? Do you have a history with substance abuse disorders? Do you have any intent to harm yourself or others?

Sending glares to anyone who dared to come too close, Jimin had looked and smelled threatening. You're not sure he’d have let you go into an isolated location with her if she’d been an alpha. Jin too had looked close to snapping.

yoongi was the only one who looked somewhat calm, althoug his hand was tightly laced with yours (and a little sweaty)

It’s a wonder that the rest of your pack had agreed to stay home for this. This was just one of several concessions you’d made after what the pack has politely begun referring to as 'sad pup time' during your more vulnerable moments, and blatantly 'your breakdown' during less fragile ones.

But sweet words or not. The facts remain; You are here in this chair after a nearly tearful departure.

You’d met the therapist in the doorway, shaking in your boots, and upon being separated from your pack with the promise that they’d be just downstairs in the lobby, you’d followed her inside.

Yoongi had made a noise in his throat, making you turn back. Dr.Rima turned to watch as he’d pulled you in for a last-minute hug, ducking down to your level. “One hour, okay? We’ll be just downstairs. Text me if you need me.”

His eyes were heavy-looking at the stranger. Unwilling to let you go just yet. A little stalwart, a little standoffish.

“Take good care of her please. She’s very precious to us.”

Precious.

That much was evident by the nearly three-page document that both your pack alpha and omega sent through once Namjoon and Jin had selected Dr. Rima as your therapist. Dr. Rima has quite a bit of experience dealing with overprotective pack alphas and pack omegas. Let alone a pack alpha and pack omega who have such a clinical background.

Yes, you must be well taken care of. At least on paper.

She’s already itching a little, to get her hands on all the others. Packmates and their names are written out, as a part of all intake files. Large packs aren't so common anymore. Her eyes fix on one name; Min Yoongi (beta, mate) unemployed.

The big windows help it feel not so small, on the second floor, the trees block out most of the view of the park below. A small voice that sounds like Hobi whispers that it’s a shame she doesn’t have any plants in here, they'd do so well with all of this natural light.

Your knees clack together a little, moving listlessly, the anxiety in your body begging to be released somewhere.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t we start with why you wanted to come in today.”

You avoid her eye contact, looking instead at the tops of the trees, you don’t know why they haven’t changed color yet, all of the trees on your street are half bare already. She has a smooth inoffensive scent, but you’re mated to a beta so you know what to expect when it comes to the relaxing effects, the subtle haze at the edge of your vision. It must come in handy, having the biological upper hand, when it comes to patients in distress.

If therapists are rare, beta therapists must be even rarer.

You can practically hear Jin, “Nothing but the best for my pup.” There is a part of your brain that won’t ever turn off, appraising everything around you. The designer pumps that she wears. The knickknacks on her desks, there are no photos of any packs that she might call her own, just a pink calendar in the corner.

Your breath goes just a little bit rapid, just a little, hitching when you think of it.

“Did Jin tell you anything?”

“He didn’t. Although my secretary did inform me that he filled out the paperwork for you.” The air in the therapist’s office is cold. Cold enough that it has you wrapping your sweater sleeves over your knuckles.

Your cheeks heat “My pack they- get a bit- protective.” Your fingers circle your wrist. You’re glad that Hobi convinced you to take one of his sweatshirts. He'd had a strange look on his face while he zipped it up, and you'd had to worry and wonder about it the whole morning. You'd worried more once he texted, just after he must have gotten to work.

“I have kind of a history of self-destructive behavior and I- I kind fell into bad habits a few days ago and blew up. It was all kind of triggered by this like- thing that happened with me and my other packmate.” It’s surprisingly easy to tell the truth.

You’re a right side better than you have been the last few weeks, now. A little bit more present, less foggy. The doctor just looks at her screen and not at you. What is it with her asking questions that make you not want to lie? Why does it feel like you should anyway?

Dr. Rima reads between the lines, what you're trying to say without saying it. “Is there a possibility of you hurting yourself again?” She clicks at the screen a little rapidly.

“No.”

The truth is you have no idea. It seems best to lie in this situation. But you consider it; one of your packmates making the call that you are too much to handle, that you need more help than they can offer. You imagine what it would be like to be in inpatient care. Grippy socks and group therapy and probably observed mealtimes. Maybe Iv's and feeding tubes if it came to that. Away from the pack and away from Yoongi.

He’s just downstairs, but that feels too far. There was no way that he was going to let you do this alone, you wouldn't be surprised if he never left the waiting room.

It’s just a therapy session. The very thing that you once refused. But now that you're here you might as well heal, you might as well work to stop this endless train of brief highs and endless lows. you'll give it a go, why not? What do you have to lose?

And yet, the texts from Hobi remain unanswered:

Ho-🐝 (9:48): Hey, I’m really proud of you.

Ho-🐝 (9:48): I’m really happy I get to be your packmate. In case you ever worry.

Ho-🐝 (9:49): And your best friend too &lt;3

Ho-🐝 (9:51): Just so you knowwww

The pack has kept you substantially plied with little solutions since your breakdown last week. They haven’t let you rot like usual. They’ve kept your days full of little activities; nothing too extravagant or tiring. Letting you rest when you need to and encouraging you to get outside of your comfort zone when it’s clear you’re giving in.

It comes down to that more often than not; giving in or not giving in.

Not giving in looks like trips back to the beach with Hobi. Like going to the salon with Tae and shopping with Jimin. Or another workout class with Jungkook where you’d spent more of the time lounging on the yoga mat than actually moving your body. But you'd still tenuously agreed to sign up for more classes under the encouragement of Wonho and Jungkook.

And now twice a week, you’ve got a mat to call your own during any classes, in the back, if you decide you want it. Your callender hasn't felt so full in years, it feels strange, to have something to do during the weeks that isn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel and doing house chores. Strange in a good way.

Not all of the pack's solutions aren’t silly but sometimes, silly is a good way to push out the dark.

The morning after your breakdown; you'd watched your pack work, fighting back a flush. Sitting at the kitchen bar stool while Yoongi applied painter’s tape to the floor, not intent on keeping back paint this time, but marking it off for you.

You’re a little bit more determined this morning although your first night without nightmares in a little over a month had kept you in higher spirits. You feel more well-rested than you have in ages.

“You don’t need to- I promise- I’m not going-“ but your requests had fallen on deaf ears. Worry building until Jungkook stood up fast grinning up at you, pupils wide brown pools from getting scented stupid this morning.

(Scented stupid, you'd been scented by the pack too, had struggled a little against it, too shy as Namjoon dragged his throat along yours, squirming until yoongi held you down a little, checking with you each few seconds that you wanted that, that your squirming was really just needing to feel a firm touch, a dominant one.

You will go nowhere until your pack have had their right to you, scenting you up, making your scent gland tender and swollen under their teeths and tongues.

It felt so much better to be made to handle it, each of the pack, even hobi, hovering over you to scent you with their wrists and throats. until you smelled so claimed by them that you couldn't breathe without smelling it- Pack.

Jungkook had pouted until he'd gotten the same treatment, although the omegaspace haze had lasted longer on him than it had on you.

He stands up so fast that his hair fluffs. Catching himself on your leg with a giggle before he topples over. grinning up at you before pressing a sleepy sloppy kiss to your knee and then another to your lips,

“No pup zone!" Omega Space Jungkook can get a little bit ridiculous even at the best of times. He's got a case of the morning omegaspace zoomies as he giggles and nips at your nose. You playfully push at his chest. He doesn't budge.

"Your whole face is a no-pup zone." The dissatisfied pur-chirp he'd let out had sounded half hurt, half encouraged.

Namjoon had eased your discomfort. Pulling you from the stool to lean back against his chest, fingers drumming out a rhythm on your legs as Jungkook huffes into your throat.

Having this failsafe- this rule, does not mean that they think you’re going to fail, these are guard rails to keep you on track. Namjoon looks down at you, his full bottom lip tucked a little, not a pout but close. “This is the easiest solution, if you don’t go near it then maybe, maybe it helps.”

His fingers drum against your skin again, and you lean back into him. Uneasy but willing to let him soothe you.

So yes, you’ve been banned from the kitchen, banned from crossing that line that runs from the edge of the coffee stand and just in front of Tae's library room, to the island and over to the fridge. Unless there is someone else close by. You are not allowed here without supervision.

It’s a simple solution, limiting you from the place that you use to hurt yourself. Never mind the fact that there are dozens if not hundreds of other possible avenues you could use. Your creativity knows no bounds when it comes to pain, but you quiet that part of yourself when the desire for hurt gets loud.

You can’t say it hasn’t helped. But then again, the pack has kept you so busy since your breakdown that you haven't had any time to think of hurting yourself let alone put any plans into action.

Across from you, Dr. Rima waits expectantly.

"It was kind of triggered by this thing that happened."

The tip of her pen bobs a little as she writes. “Could you describe the event to me? Or is that something you're not ready to talk about?" You nod and she waits patiently. It takes you a breath to answer.

“A little less than a month ago one of my packmates and I found a dead body."

You feel a little vindicated at her inhale of breath. Wide eyes that say yes- that is something traumatic, yes, it's fair that it kinda triggered you into a more fragile state.

"It dredged up a lot of feelings about my past. Before that, I was kind of starting to feel s-safe which I haven't like, ever been able to feel."

“And your packmate?"

There is new treacherous wetness balancing on your waterline. “Hobi’s a lot stronger than me, his past and mine are really similar but he just- handles his better. A lot of the time it feels like I learn from him even though he’d tell you the opposite is true. He’s my best friend." Your voice goes quiet, "I love my mate more than I love anyone else, but sometimes- Hobi just- gets me you know?" You go a little misty-eyed. Hands tightening on Hobi's sweatshirt.

“Yet he’s not the one sitting in my chair right now.”

You close your eyes, "he's not."

“For what it’s worth- you can have more than one best friend.” Dr. Rima writes as quickly as she can, taking it down. “How long have you been romantically involved with him? Who came first, your mate or him?”

You jolt forward, “Oh no- we’re not- Hobi and I aren't-" You take a deep breath to clarify. "Everyone else in the pack is together but Hobi and I are just friends. We all have our like… little units?”

"Primary partners." Dr. Rima offers.

"Yeah, that." But even that doesn't really cover it, because while Jin and Namjoon are JinandNamjoon and Jimin and Tae are JiminandTae. Jungkook is everyone's problem (in the best of ways) and you and Tae are something else too. The pack's girls the rest of them would say.

(You and Hobi are, well, YouandHobi.)

It sounds weird to say it once it comes out of your mouth. It makes an odd choked feeling lodge in your throat. Too much hope and too much shame for hoping blooming in your chest.

“I don’t know if I want to talk about him.”

She folds her hands over her knees, setting her pen down. Dr. Rima has chubby hands, disproportionate to her body. They look like they'd be soft.

She reminds you of your mom a little bit.

“That’s okay, we can talk about whatever you want. What you want and need is going to be the focus of our sessions. You’re the pilot here. I’m just here to help you interpret your thoughts and feelings.”

She folds her hands over themselves, setting her pen aside, “Why don’t we talk about the last time you remember feeling safe.”

"Physically or mentally?"

"Either, you can choose."

The rest of the session passes frightfully quickly. You can’t say that you don’t cry again. When you finally talk about Geumjae, her smile quickly dissipates. You talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw. Until you’ve depleted the whole box of her tissues. She shows you she's got more hidden under her desk when you apologize, her secret stash gets a laugh out of you.

“The fact that your pack omega filled out your paperwork isn’t the most unusual, but his preference for daily meetings or every other day is a little bit on the nose for a pack omega, I’m wondering if you share his preference.”

“He’s just overprotective.” She eyes you like Jin has good reason to be. You don’t blush this time, a little more comfortable with Dr. Rima than you were at the beginning of this. “I think maybe more than once a week but not every day.”

“How does Monday- Friday sound?”

~-~

When you walk to the door with Dr. Rima Yoongi stands abruptly from his chair.

You can tell by the shiny edge to his to his scent that he doesn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. He gets the information about your next appointment and then tugs you out the door.

Jins got his legs crossed, fancy leather shoes glinting in the sunlight by the windows. The lobby is buzzing with people coming and going. This building isn't just a therapy office but a collection of other businesses with a few shops and restaurants on the ground floor as well. He looks up and double-takes when he spots you, not standing from his chair, but he opens his arms and you fold yourself along his side, conscious of the other eyes but this.

This you need.

You press your face along the column of Jin's neck, breathing his cream scent in deep.

“Oh pup.”

Your red-rimmed eyes are too obvious and you sniffle wetly, “It was okay, I like Dr. Rima.” He laces your hands together and resists the urge to pester you with questions. Yoongi's hand is still tangled in the hood of your (Hobi's) sweatshirt. Your therapy sessions should be yours and only yours. Yoongi and Jin do not have Dr. patient confidentiality.

And yet the need to know if that helped burns through them. They won't have to wonder for long.

By the coffee stand, Jimin waves and he returns to you when the barista hands over a bag of sweets and a quad of cups. Jin continues scrawling something out for another second before he’s standing and pulling you in for another chaste scent mark.

“Let’s go home.” It's somewhere between an order and a request. But no one disobeys.

On the drive back (37 minutes total) you're a little quiet. You let the sounds of the others be your buffer. You look down at your phone and stare at Hobi’s texts. You respond with just a little heart emoji when you finally still can’t figure out a good response and you're close to home.

Home is its usual conflagration of moving bits and pieces. Each of your packmates is like a shiny cog in a pretty clock, tick tick tick tocking along. Tae and Namjoon are at the table looking through some of the pack’s bills, the pastries and coffee cups litter the table with little piles of powdered sugar and cinnamon. jimin bought enough for the whole pack.

You look at them a little too long, although not because you don't want to eat them. It’s been a while, a few weeks since you’ve made something like that, but every single one of the pastries is something you know how to make. You don’t know why you keep looking at them.

Tae smiles at you, still in the doorway. and it makes you feel a little less like you want to burst into tears. Her voice speaks of the quiet time you have in the library (the tenderness of having someone else do your makeup, another person combing your hair). You hope you'll get some dedicated one-on-one time with her soon.

"Hey little lovely, How was it?"

"She put me through the wringer but I think she got some suds out."

She and Namjoon giggle and you smile small. and you can tell that Namjoon wants to ask you more but he doesn't after a pointed look from your mate. There are footsteps in the hall and before you can move to take off your shoes Hobi is standing in the archway.

Yoongi efficiently strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt with a frustrated huff. It's Kind of like he’s trying to peel away the sadness (your clothes are soaked with your sour scent, rainy and unhappy. Regardless of Jin’s scent mark, you kind of stink).

You might have overheard their words just before you got into the car. Jin's hissed admonishment. “A lot of people cry during therapy Minnie, she’s not in trouble, can’t you smell it?”

Your scent is mellow underneath the memory of your distress, going sweeter by the second. Yoongi wants all memories of your sad scent banished from the house. Hobi stands at the door to the hallway, shifting back and forth, his eyes a little warmer than usual, hands shaking a little bit.

You’ve caught him looking at you a lot since the night he ran away, in the quiet moments when he thinks you’re not noticing. Eyes a shade warmer than usual, a sweetened franticness to his scent. Nervousness and happiness mix like blueberries and whipped cream.

When he pulls up beside you during movie nights and sits thigh to thigh with you. When his hands intertwine with yours over his knee or sometimes or when he pulls your legs sideways across his lap. He looks at you like that when he's doing the small things and he's looking at you like that right now.

You know how love starts, that it starts with the small things.

Hobi resists the urge to open his arms. would you come to him? Would you fold your body along his front so that he could feel your heartbeat? Pressing again and again to the opposite side of his chest with every thump?

He doesn’t say hey, but he does step a little closer. Fingers reaching out. The pad of his index finger slides down the meat of your pinky till it reaches the ball of your wrist. His own special hello.

Your breath hitches, just barely, almost imperceptible if it wasn’t for how close he stands.

A look behind you says Yoongi hasn’t made himself scarce, instead fussing with the pack's coats. Now that it’s getting colder, they don’t all fit by the door. You look behind Hobi and find Namjoon watching the three of you, he raises a singular eyebrow.

“How was it? Bad?” Hobi asks, breaking the silence and the tension, drawing your attention back to him. The next breath you let out is a lot less heavy, and your eyelashes flutter as he steps closer. Hobi smells good, a little earthy, mellowing out his usual sweetness. Sweet for an alpha.

“It was kind of hard, I kinda wanted to run away for a bit at the beginning." You can't keep meeting his eyes with how intensely he's looking at you and they flutter down to his hands. "I almost did.”

"I'm glad you didn't pup." Jin comments, full of reproach, the mirror to you and Hobi as he leans down to press a kiss to Namjoon's forehead. Shucking off his lapelled jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

“If you’d have called me, I’d have picked you up. We could still like- run away, if you're down.”

But the house is starting to heat up, and Jin and Yoongi are starting to cook. The light is still honey-yellow happy. And you tip your cheek into his arm. He finally- finally lets his arms settle around your waist.

“Nah, not yet.” You drag out the syllable all playful, and something forbidden stirs in Hobi’s gut. “Jin’s making my favorite tonight. not until later?”

Hobi goes silent, pulls back, biting his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes down. and-

You laugh and Hobi blushes. “Just spit it out.”

Everyone’s been a little bit touchier with you since that night (a little more overbearing too). You won’t immediately chalk Hobi's touchyness up to what you're all thinking. But the affection makes your scent gland feel tender. Zinging when Yoongi steps up behind you and nuzzles into it, huffing again.

Friends can hug each other after therapy right? Hobi swallows thickly and you feel it against your collar bone as he pulls back and steps away from you. “I ugh- got you a present?”

You brighten up instantly, and Hobi's anxiety increases tenfold. A bit of casual mischievousness on the edge of your lips that always have Hobi feeling like he’s being teased even though he knows he isn’t.

“Oh? A present? You’ve never gotten me a present before!”

He kicks at imaginary dust bunnies, fighting back what he knows is a noticeable flush. “I ugh- still owe you, from the car you know and honestly it's not even like a big gift it's like- so small in comparison and-”

Yoongi huffs and continues to disrobe you. Pulling your sweater over your head when he’s not satisfied that your unhappy scent has dissipated. Muttering something like. “hopeless alpha” under his breath. Your tank top pulls up, inches of your hip and skin on display. It's nothing that Hobi hasn't seen before and yet the blush reignites. The sunshine to your morning glory.

“I guess you're right.” But it doesn’t feel like it. Hobi doesn’t owe you anything for that, not when it was so easy to give. Not when you’ve gotten so many late-night drives from that gift.

Hoseok got the idea for your courting gift, one morning while watching you say goodbye to Namjoon:

The pack alpha has always been a fan of goodbye kisses, good morning, and goodnight kisses too. The particular kiss that morning had ‘I’ll miss you’ written all over it. It was so pretty in the way that you lingered, arms around Namjoon’s neck. His hand is underneath your shirt on the small of your back. Such a small touch and yet so gently possessive that it had Hobi aching to see it.

Hobi is unfortunately prone to jealousy and it turns the back of his neck hot. Makes his hands feel oddly tender. He's distracted by the visual, the task of packing up his work bag forgotten. Hoseok’s shift at the flower shop doesn’t start for another few hours, and he’s waiting, watching, an unhappy voyeur.

You and Namjoon have quite the height difference, if he was in between the two of you he’d be the perfect middle ground. That’s just another stupid thought, another stupid thought in the countless number of stupid thoughts that he’s had. (I like my alphas a little pathetic, and nothing's more pathetic than an alpha pining after an omega.)

He grumbles.

Yoongi prattles on, more awake than all of them as he outlines what you have to do today to make progress on the house- which is to go find a place that sells cheaper tile than the ones you first thought of using in the bathroom on the first floor. And maybe change it up a little.

The bathrooms escaped the renovations somehow, and a few nights ago- Jimin had admitted how much they actually use it even though it’s not the pack's primary bathroom anymore. Now that it’s not in use, they’re more willing to part with it for a few days for some very necessary re-styling. it toes the line from vintage to old a little too hard. The yellow is a little…yellow.

Yoongi wants to go light and airy with the color scheme, like he did with the upstairs bathroom and it's seafoam and brown tones. But like with most of the house, your vote is for colorful. “How about a light blue-” Yoongi continues to argue while you kiss Namjoon a little senseless in the doorway, at least Namjoon seems properly dazed, chasing your lips when you pull apart.

“No- we don’t have a room that’s magenta yet!”

This starts the same argument as always; “We can’t make every room in this house pink for Tae.”

But goodbyes take precedence, and when you turn back and smile at Hobi he flushes, shy to be caught looking. He moves, stepping around you and Namjoon to put his water bottle into his bag when you shout, “Stop, Seokie!”

Seokie is a new nickname, one that Jin only uses in the quietest of moments that you've somehow adopted when you don't want to call him Hobi. Hobi always thought that if you’d use any other nickname with him- you’d use daisy (he might want you and yoongi to share that pet name). But he’s a good pup and stops what he’s doing. Every atom in his body every electron no longer circulates neutrons but circulates you instead. Pulled in by your gravity.

You’ve moved so suddenly that you’ve spilled a bit of your coffee onto the floor. Maybe kissing Namjoon has left you feeling a little dizzy too. Yoongi just sighs fondly and wipes it up. Jimin looks up from his phone, smiling when he sees.

“You’ve got a rainbow on your cheek.”

It’s a trick of the light, early morning sunshine refracted through the mottled window just right to cast a single rainbow on the wall and on Hobi when he steps in front of it.

You cup his cheek, finger skimming across where the rainbow sits.

"Pretty."

Hobi feels hot all over.

At Tae’s call of, “If I have to do my eyeliner one more time I’m going to scream!” You giggle and dart away from him. Going to tend to Tae with a soft reply of "I've got you baby."

Hoseok is left, blushing in the morning light. Staying still like you might come by and cup his cheek again, Like a flower staying still in the hope of pollination.

Hobi is left, wanting to scream and somehow demand you back, both would be fair. His plight isn't missed by his packmates, who lean in like a set of jackals, grinning ear to ear at hobi's flustered predicament.

She's going to send him into rut if she's not careful Jin thinks, but doesn't say. instead he teases, “You’ve got to leave in the next ten-minute Hobi.”

Only then does Hoseok move- released from his spell and finally losing the rainbow on his cheeks though they might as well have stayed with how happy and warm he feels. How absolutely incandescent the love is glowing in his chest. A full spectrum of feelings, longing for you to come back.

He almost trips over noodle, darting after you with his tail raised high, catching himself on the edge of the couch at the last second, one shoe on and one off, his water bottle falling and spilling in the process.

yoongi sighs, and stoops to wipe it up. Jimin giggles and pulls Hobi up by his hips, the alpha's fingers feel hot where they've touched him, scalding. “What’s wrong, omega got your tongue?” yoongi returns to his breakfast, throwing the wad of soggy paper towels into the trash.

Jungkook laughs, “It’s more like he wants an omega to have his tongue in her-“

“You guys are gross,” He pushes at Jimin’s shoulder finally moving right. Yoongi hides his smile in a mouthful of Captain Crunch.

Hobi doesn’t think about the rainbows again until his next afternoon shift. When the low angle of the autumn sun cuts through the windows and catches the suncatchers that they hang in the doorway of the flower shop and cast more rainbows- dozens of them really across him and the flower.

He remembers when you came to visit, how you'd lingered over them, looked at them a second longer than you looked at the plants.

It’s a bit of a kitschy display. Other polished stones and nick nacks sitting on the deep shelf along with some smaller potted plants. A little tray of rose-quartz stones falsely advertises themselves as ‘heat reducers.’

The colors start to blend, and the rainbows sway softly in the light, gentle and pretty. He snaps a photo and thinks about sending it to you, but doesn’t.

The store is blissfully empty of Hobi's coworkers when he selects three of them. It's quiet when he packages them in tissue paper, one with a huge pink stained-glass moon at the top, another with three tiers. Each of them is delicate and pretty in their own right. No one’s bought a single one of them in the last three months anyway. They'll hardly be missed. Hobi gives himself a fat employee discount.

Hobi is unfortunately bad at hiding things, especially when he's nervous. Luckily the pack alpha doesn’t have it in him to tease. Namjoon had in fact been only too encouraging and given him a pep talk just this morning about courting and courting presents.

“The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t like it- and then you just have to try again which you were already planning on doing anyway.” Namjoon is quite simply the best at courting. It doesn't matter which subgender; alphas, beta’s, and omegas have all fallen under his touch. At least Hoseok has the opportunity to learn from a professional. Somehow the thought that you'd compare him to namjoon doesn't cross his mind.

Hoseok isn’t good at the romantic gestures that courting necessitates. He’s more of the ‘there when you need him’ kind of lover. Ready to make the small changes to make his loved ones' lives more manageable. Ready with his car keys for adventures. Those parts are easy, this is out of his depth.

Especially when it comes to you. Even After the love confessions, (are confessions still confessions if they’re so internal?) Hobi feels mostly unmoored. About to shatter upon unknown shores.

God, crushes are so frustrating (in the best kind of way, the way that keeps you sighing and daydreaming, the kind of way that makes you look in the mirror a little longer).

Tae helped him half an hour before she started on the pack's paperwork. They'd spent an hour deciding which places were best to hang them to get the greatest number of rainbows. She had even fussed with his hair a little to make it lie right. Having him hop up on the couch so she could see Hobi's face from your angle.

Hobi wanted to make sure there were at least one or two rainbows when he shows you. But when he leads you to the sunroom, his hands over your eyes (the same position you found yourself in when Namjoon surprised you with the nesting pod) there are more of them than there were when he set them up, whole constellations swaying softly.

The suncatchers are pretty and twinkly sparkly in the golden hour light, and your lips part in a simple show of awe when Hobi tells you you can open your eyes. It's so bright, they send dozens of little rainbows across the walls and your nesting pod. Over the white couch and the fig in the corner.

It’s very very pretty. and when you turn back to look a thim, Hobi once again has a rainbow on his cheek.

Your eyes twinkle, but you don't say anything. you stay quiet for long enough that Hobi gets nervous. his anxiety makes him talk fast. “I hung them here- but you can put them wherever you want- in the kitchen or upstairs or I can get you more for any places you want to put them- or- or- ”

You just about tackle him, arms looping around his neck resting your weight in his arms that instinctively grip around your waist. Hobi teeters, unsteady with such a heavy heart, toppling both of you onto the couch as you cry. "I love it!"

You’re sprawled not lying across him but his hand goes out to support the way you cling and rub your face into his chest, a happy little chirp slipping past your lips.

The wild thing in Hobi’s chest settles, settles, and curls around you. Tight and protective like a vice. You pull back, and your smile is just as bright.

Hobi sags, and rests his neck back against the couch, "Good- thank fucking god- I was so fucking nervous-" You fiddle with the buttons on his flannel, it's one of Yoongi's. It seems fitting that you steal his clothes and he steals Yoongi's.

"What brought all this on?"

Hobi doesn't have a good answer, in the quiet with the rainbows, or at least an answer he's ready for. He doesn't say that this is a courting present, and he doesn't need to because instead of answering your question- he replies with one of his own.

“Wanna go for a drive later?” he asks, voice tremulous like he thinks you might refuse him. You’ve never said no to him before, never said not tonight only not right now. Do you treasure our little talks the same way I do?

“Sure, after dinner? like I said? Just-" You lean back against his chest, and Hobi’s hands go tight tight tight around your waist. Holding you close. Clingy. He does not slip his hand under your shirt to cup the side of your hip the way that Namjoon might, but the thought crosses his mind.

Hobi is a good alpha, he won't cross that line until you tell him it's okay. Until then a thin layer of fabric separates his skin from yours. You're still warm to the couch.

“Sit and watch them with me?” You ask quietly. Almost shy, like you think he’d refuse you. He nods and the two of you sit on the couch to look at the rainbows together.

Eventually, Noodle finds the two of you, meowing and hopping up to stretch out along your thighs. Worming his way between the two of you.

The rainbows don't last forever, but Hobi sits with you until they fade.

~-~

Tae’s library is just like every public library:

Tall windows, wide quiet shelves with room for the stories to breathe. A colorful young adult section and an even more colorful kid’s section. A bit aways from the tables and computers so that any over-excited pups don’t disturb the adults. Big deep beanbags for small children to cuddle up to while they ponder fairy tales and adventures only a plastic-covered book away.

Tae’s long plaid skirt barely makes a whisper along the ground. The colder weather has allowed her to live all of her cottage core fantasies, her dark academia aesthetic truly flourishing. Her shirt is a little translucent today, and the fading summer tan of her skin pokes through it in spots where her tank top doesn't hide. Pretty long earrings dangle and clink in the quiet while she works on her shelving.

Wearing her chosen clothing items at work has been a bit of a work in progress.

Most of Tae’s coworkers approve of her transition in that overly willing-to-be-an-ally way that middle-aged women who generally consider themselves progressive outside of closed doors all do. And the ones that don’t approve have swallowed their words with lingering sour eyes and raised upper lips after the general receptiveness to Tae’s social transition.

It's hard to know who's genuine with it, who just doesn't want to cause a fuss, and who just doesn't give a shit. But most of the time her outfits get one or two compliments and thats it. Tae would rather them say nothing than anything negitive.

Tae likes the quiet of the library at this time of day, the silence gives her enough room to let her imagination wander. Tae likes to file away books in mid-morning, when there are fewer people around and her humming is less likely to disturb any of the library’s patrons. She sings to the stories and they sing back, tempting her with every well-worded title and delicately chaste summary.

But she doesn’t just think about stories or the book she's writing (her book is currently giving her hell on the 30th chapter) No. Today- there is a much more interesting love story blooming in her head, in the pack's den too.

She’s been thinking about you all morning (Tae thinks about you almost every morning) there are even little poems scrawled on the edge of her newspaper. Lines that are you and a bit of Hobi too.

I wished that I might be your hair clip / to know what it feels like / to be pressed against the nape of your neck/ To be your suntan/ perched on the edge/ of what you show everyone and what you show no one/ To be the bearer of every freckle/ like the sky holds the stars/ To hold and never let go/ Like birds hold sunshine / and flowers hold songs.

Everyone had noticed of course, how much time you and Hobi have been spending together.

The pack had even talked about it during a quiet moment without you and Hobi. Yoongi’s lack of communication regarding you and Hobi. “I don’t know anything” he’d unsuccessfully lied, and nearly been heaved up and wrestled to the couch as a result. But Jungkook’s puppy eyes had unsuccessfully endeared him.

Yoongi has kept Hobi's secret, but it's kind of hard not to notice. Tae isn't a fool. Tae is a much better liar than Yoongi is- because when you'd come to her after your late-night drive to gush with her about Hobi and the rainbows over makeup. She hadn't said anything about what she knows.

Tae couldn’t tell you how many times she’d noticed little touches, Hobi’s hand lingering on the small of your back, grabbing your waist when he moved behind you in the bathroom. When he take the greatest care to set out his sweatshirts in the morning and even asks Jungkook to make sure they’re clean. They’re practically not even his sweatshirts anymore with the amount you’ve been wearing them.

Tae isn’t an idiot, she knows that Hobi’s finally realized it. While she doesn’t trust herself to play matchmaker given how poorly the first time she pointed out Hobi’s attraction went. that doesn’t mean she’s not going to park herself firmly on the edge of her fantasy land with a box of popcorn.

If they were gonna get married, would Hobi wear a red tux or black or grey? Her brain is already thinking of wedding dresses. One of these days she’s really going to have to make a Pinterest board. Hobi would probably want to do sunflowers, and that might clash with the red unless it was a fall wedding- ooh, and what about pearl details and daisies? a beach wedding might be a little too on the nose for you.

Tae is so absorbed with her shelving and her daydreaming that she doesn’t notice the sound of small shoes on the carpeted floor. Nor does she notice the light-up flash of tiny iorn man sneakers. Her musings are easily interrupted by a small tug on her skirt, shy almost. She startles a little, looking down at the sudden touch.

The little pup's thumb is wet from where it was clearly placed behind their bucked teeth. He's got wide brown eyes and soft-looking hair, Tae can't stop the smile that comes to her lips.

“I wanted to read a book but I couldn’t reach, can you help me? Please?”

Tae’s heart swells as she leans down to the pup's level. “Of course, I can! Why don’t you show me what one you wanted,” diligently Tae follows the little one a few isles over, tugged along by their insistent pulling as he tells her about the pretty cover.

The little pup turns back, furrowing his bushy brows up at Tae, “are you a princess?” he asks. Tae almost has to laugh, a bright happy gender euphoric feeling filling her chest, that feeling of I could be filling her.

She makes her whisper just a little more hushed, playing along, “Don’t tell anyone okay? It's a secret.” The little pup nods, eyes darting around like there are dragons that would threaten her.

“What gave me away?”

“Princesses wear long skirts!” the pup says cheerfully, like it makes the most sense in the world. He's a little too loud and Tae winces. He finally finds the shelve with the story. The spine glimmers pink and gold and Tae is unsurprised to find the illustrated copy of Cinderella. Not the Disney or PJ version, but the Brothers Grimm version.

Tae cringes at the pair of doves on the cover.

Tae doesn’t say that the little pup is too small to read a book so big, or that there is one with more pictures much more appropriate away from the young adult section. The child can’t be more than 6 years old.

But still, Tae retrieves it and delivers it to their waiting arms. The little one clutches it to his chest, thanks Tae, and then promptly plops themselves onto the carpeted floor right there.

He opens the first page, huffs, and then looks up at her imploringly.

“I just realized I can’t read.”

He pouts and Tae melts. Tae wonders where the pup's mother is, but really, there certainly can't be much harm in this. This isn't the first time Tae has been guilted into reading a story to a pup while their parents work or make use of the library's computers.

"Just the first page.” She intones, caution for the child’s hopes in her voice, she presses her skirt under her knees and sits on the scratchy carpet. The pup curls close to see the pictures. Resting his tiny chubby cheek in the billow of Tae’s big puffy sleeve.

Tae's chest is all tight as she reads. The pup is very well-behaved, he pauses, and asks questions in a soft voice only when Tae gives him space to respond. Tae easily ommits the parts that aren't appropriate. but tae finds herself watching the pup a little bit more as the minutes stretch.

In a few years with your own little ones around, will Tae become the defacto bedtime story reader? Will she do this with the pack's pups one day? Will she be the one to take that bright little light in their eyes that imagines things as greater and more and cultivate it? Her cheeks feel warm at the prospect, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in excitement.

Your pups and Jin's pups too- they're gonna be so loved. Tae's gonna be the best mom to them, The best alpha too.

One page turns into two and then three. In this quiet corner with only Tae’s voice as ruler and god, the little pup hinges on every word. Until there’s another voice close by. An adult not wishing to be loud, a whispered name.

“Jae?”

Tae smiles up at the woman at the end of the aisle of books. Her smile turns sweeter when Jae hops up and runs to press his face into her jeaned thighs. Tae remembers how that felt, how every scent besides Tae’s own omega mother felt overwhelming and icky.

Tae stands with a crack of her knees and makes to hand over the book, “This makes a great bedtime story until about chapter 8, that one you might want to skip until he’s a little older.”

The woman makes to smile, but it only goes so far. Tae watches in perfect detail, everything in slow motion, as her eyes flicker down to Tae’s Addams apple.

She drags her child close by their wrist quicker than Tae can blink. Tae sees the moment that the child realizes this touch isn’t gentle, wide eyes going fear-stricken as he's tugged behind her back. And then it's all downhill from there.

I'll spare you the more vile bits.

But the saddest moment of the argument that follows (Which involves not one but three of Tae's co-workers to calm down the hysterical woman whose screeches echo around the quiet library) is when the pup tries to get his mother's attention. "Mom, I liked that she was reading to me."

"He" the certified Karen hisses, moving in a way that makes the pup flinch back. "-should know better than to corrupt a pup with such- such-" her eyes dart down and up, and Tae's skin burns. "Disgusting behavior."

The misgendering doesn't even sting. What does hurt is the eyes peering in. She isn't being quiet and it's causing many of the library's patrons' attention is diverted. Tae's coworkers have put themselves between Tae and the woman. But there still aren't enough people (enough packmates) in between her and the verbal tirade.

An hour later, after the woman has left after threatening to call the police, Tae talks with his boss and his boss’s boss. The room behind the front desk is glass, and he knows that the door doesn’t keep the sound of their raised voice out.

“I wasn’t harassing her child; I was just helping him find a book for Christ sake!”

The worst part is that this isn’t the first time that this has happened. No- since Tae came out there have been two other complaints leveled against her from bigoted patrons. Both right at the beginning before she got the hang of presenting how she wanted to.

At least those confrontations weren’t face-to-face. At least those complaints didn’t end with someone threatening to call the police and a pup cowering, tugged along too roughly out the door.

The little pup had glanced back at Tae, mouth in pout, eyes swimming with tears.

Even if the woman felt righteous in her anger, the least she could have done was not yell in front of the pup. Tae promises herself right then and there, that she'll never raise her voice in front of the pack's pups, not in anger.

The book has stayed on the counter at the front. Pink and gold and treacherous. Tae hopes that if anything, the pup finds it and reads the ending one day. Stories have a way of finding us, even when the world makes us let them go.

Now in the back room behind the check-out counter. Tae’s boss levels her with an expectant look, the kind that people give when they don’t want to be transphobic not really- it’s just so hard for them not to, so learned. Tae is the nail that sticks up. It’s bullshit really. Tae can tell it's bullshit before she opens her mouth.

“Really? He asked for Cinderella?”

“Yes.” Tae’s biting tone is an alpha’s tone, not a man’s, and yet she knows how it sounds.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m not lying.” Is Tae supposed to only help some children find the books they want? Is she supposed to look at them and make her best guess if they’ve got homophobic parents and skip them over? It’s not her fault that the sweet sweet pup’s parent was a bigot.

“I can’t help but feel like- you’ve got a personal agenda-“

"Charlie-" the district manager cautions.

Tae can’t stop herself from snapping, alpha anger sparking with the intent to burn. “Little boys should be allowed to read Cinderella if they want to” Rats and all. Her hands are shaking, and it isn’t missed by them. The room smells thick with Tae’s spicy cinnamon anger.

The district manager sets her hand on Tae's shoulder, and her anger ebbs just a little. “I think maybe you should go home a little early today, just to cool off. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Tae doesn’t want to go home early, Tae doesn’t want to go home at all as she packs up her books. Her bag lighter than usual, absent of the stories that she wants to take home. For once there aren’t any that she wants to read.

She walks to the train station because Jimin won’t be off work for another 2 hours and that’s when he’d usually pick her up, the last three days he’s gotten her flowers too; white roses the first day, pink the second, and red the third. She sends him a text.

Tae <3 (1:48): I left work early today, you don’t have to pick me up, I’ll get an Uber home.

Mini-alpha (1:49):!!!!!

Mini-alpha (1:49): What happened? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I can leave now.

Tae sighs, looking down at her phone while she waits for the crosswalk light to come on. Red still, green in a few seconds, she only has to wait. She can practically feel Jimin's nervous energy through the phone. it's a wonder he doesn't immediately call her.

It makes her soft. It isn't in Jimin's nature to give any of his lovers any space but he always makes an effort when it comes to her.

Tae <3 (1:53): No. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you when you get home.

Tae doesn’t want to talk to Jimin about transphobia again. At least not yet. It’s too much energy. It’s not that Tae doesn’t want to make what happened during Namjoon’s rut better. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about it- it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about, the explanation of his actions are such a burden for Tae to bear. And Tae trusts that Jimin’s heart is in the right place even if he makes mistakes. And even telling Jimin off, yelling at him, wouldn’t change it.

Either one day Tae will not have to deal with bigoted parents, either one day she’ll pass and won’t have to worry, or she'll always be in this awkward middle ground.

Trans people are like toupees, you only notice them when there’s something off, something a little misplaced about them. Tae fears that most of all. Femininity, as much as she wants it, as much as it's hers to take, what if it won't ever fit right? What if she never passes?

Tae loves her job at the library, it’s the perfect mix of boring and safe and easy even if it doesn’t pay enough. But even as she's gained things like skirts and puffy sleeves, she's exchanged them for days like today. Really, the library was her favorite place before today and now, every step away from it makes her feel a little lighter. She's not even angry anymore, just exhausted mentally.

Tae decides to walk home at least she’s in her most conservative channel flats, they could use a little bit more wear and love and Tae’s thoughts are still too sharp. She dulls them to a palatable edge that all falls apart when she gets home.

You’re there, thank fucking god you’re always there when she gets home. You’ll always be Tae’s comfort person.

Tae opens the door with a creek and push of cold air, you're saying something to Yoongi turning with a toss of your hair, eyes brightening when you see her before you've even said her name.

You look a little healthier today, with a little bit more of a rosy glow to your cheeks and a healthy brightness to your eyes, not all glassy.

"Tae! You're home early!"

Tae will never stop being proud of how hard you try, and will never stop being a bit envious either because Tae-

Tae looks at you and wilts, bag flopping onto the floor, and predictably burst into tears.

"Oh- oh Tae."

"Baby girl-"

You and Yoongi are just about the best security blanket a packmate could ask for. You're so good as you pull her down to your level so you can kiss away her tears, maneuvering her like a perfect team onto the couch. Yoongi's strong hands slide off her shoes. Yoongi's fingers digging into her sore heel as you kiss away her every tear.

A substantial amount of babying and a Sos packmate in distress text later, and Tae is reclining across a freshly fluffed nest, the muscles in her body relaxed. The blisters on the back of her feet are bandaged and kissed. Every inch of her body is too.

You don't talk about it until after the pack's facemasks are finished, and hobi's clear coat has dried over the tiny nail sticker that you left. a small bumblebee.

Your skin smells sweet after a long long bath full of fancy bath bombs. Jinnie had also rubbed oil onto her freshly shaven legs. You helped, dragging it along oh so carefully to not nick her skin. Ending each pass with a kiss to her ankle and then upper thigh.

Tae’s head is in your lap now, cheek pressed against your (slightly chubbier) thighs. Her sniffles the background music as Tae gives her final recap of what happened.

Your nose gets a wrinkle in it when you go cross. "There's so much meanness to the world, I hate how people have to add to it."

Jimin’s anger leaves an undercurrent in the air, dragging the other alphas along, Hobi’s hands are strong where they dig into Tae’s shoulders, belly down in the nest while you play with her hair, braiding it back and forth. The attention makes her feel a little tingly.

“Do you know what her name was? Did you get a look at her car-“ Jimin asks, nearly barking. The library has cameras. Jimin knows it does.

Jin sets a hand on the back of his neck, a scruff threatening. “Down pup. Tae doesn’t need you to track them down.” Jimin’s teeth look particularly sharp in the light. For a face so soft he has quite the mouth on him.

“They made her sad,” he growls, but it's softer, more pointed as he crouches over her.

Namjoon’s quiet voice unlocks the whole world's worries, massaging gently down the column of Tae’s delicate neck, rough hands, worn tender touching her regardless. Namjoon is rarely ever so pointed, but it's logical, from an alpha's perspective, Tae knows what he hints.

"I think that if your bosses aren't going to protect you from people like that, then I want you to leave your job." Jin gives him a look like, 'Now you know where I'm coming from' but Tae's the important packmate right now.

Tae rolls Namjoon's words around her tongue, her hand loosely twined with his. Namjoon has the steadiest hands out of everyone in the pack and a few minutes ago he repurposed his surgery skills to do her nails. Took off the chipped red and re-did them because Namjoon knows she feels best when her claws are polished. He checks them now. Tapping them lightly to not smudge them.

It's a girl's night, the first girl's night you've ever had with the whole pack. Tae's face is still glossy from the face mask.

“I don’t think I want to quit; I don’t think that would help at all that’s not going to like- solve the world and all its issues.”

“No, but- if it’s making you more sad than happy. Then maybe it’s worth considering.”

Tae knows Namjoon’s not saying that she doesn’t make enough to affect the pack's finances, but that's still the truth. Hobi pulls himself along her other side and you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Hobi presses a kiss to Tae's temple, “All you want to do is write every day anyways, and we just want you to be happy,” 6 heads nod their agreement.

Hobi isn't wrong; The last four weekends in a row Tae has woken up several hours earlier than the pack would usually stir from morning cuddles, just to get a few hours of uninterrupted writing done. She’s also spent nearly every night in her library room, staying up late after the pack has retired upstairs until one of you comes down and wrangles her upstairs. The pack's prettiest alpha needs her beauty sleep.

But is it enough to count on? Is it worth quitting her job over?

You duck down low, kissing the same spot Hobi did, your lips touching just a Tae away. a heavy breath wooshes out of her chest. "Yeah why wouldn't we want you to quit? If you're always here then I can always do this."

Your kiss is gentle, and it tastes like belonging more than Tae would ever be able to write, to describe. A love that makes you feel like you belong is a rare thing. And Tae's hand goes up to tangle in your hair, keeping you there for just a shared breath longer.

The next breath tastes a bit like freedom. It's scary to be free.

(But Tae leaves her 2 weeks' notice on her boss’s desk before the end of the next work day, and she doesn't feel bad about it one bit).

~-~

(1 year prior)

Maybe the truth is that the reason why you don’t feel you deserve agency is because you know what your agency looks like. The choices you’re willing to make when it comes down to it.

The secrets you tell and the lies you have buried deep in your pocket like one of Hobi’s found things. Something you can’t get rid of and cast back into the ocean. No matter how hard you try. There is something about murder that sticks, that stays no matter how many times you try to wash your hands of it.

It's not guilt, because you don't feel guilty for what you had to do.

Being backed into a corner can make someone do a whole hell of alot of monstrous things. And back then Life was monotonous. Back then there was Anguish without change.

Your life went like this: Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Meet up with Hyejin. Make poison. Make pastries. Go to the Don’s house. Feed it to them. Listen to Moonbyul tell you to wait. Go home. Get beaten again and again. Get raped every night. On and on and on.

Clean up your blood from the tiles. Clean it from the carpet. Hydrogen peroxide and not bleach. Cover the bruises up with color corrector first before you put concealer over them.

Smile and tell everyone that your husband and you are perfectly happy. There will be a pup on the way soon enough, I'm so lucky to have someone who supports me, and I'm so lucky to have a love like this.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Go to sleep and don't cry because then he'll beat you for keeping him awake.

In the darkness that curls around you. Blood going tacky between your legs, you start to dream of wicked sweet things.

What you've been through would be enough to make anyone go crazy, Enough to make anyone consider drastic action. Enough to make anyone consider murder.

Enough for you to slide a pair of small syringes off of Moonbyul’s night desk and a small packet of arsenic too. You know how to make a simple syrup. You know how to mix in arsenic to it, how to make it liquid soluble without breathing it in.

You make it in the fine china and break it after so that you can throw it out without worrying. You get a beating for it but you hardly feel it when Geumjae drags you across the floor by your hair. It hardly breaks your heart when he steps on your ribcage with the intent to break bones because you know what you have to do.

After, with your own blood on your teeth, you make sure to leave it in the bottom of the trash, and ask the cleaning staff not to take it out yet. They're supposed to find it.

You don't care if you die, you just want to make sure the necessary villains are punished. When it comes to blame the person who is most to blame is you anyway. You are simply numb to pain, numb to your own anguish. Numb to the idea of your own death too. Geumjae's already killed you in every way that matters.

Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite; give a girl an enemy and she'll do dangerous things.

Your meetings with the Don and beta always go the same; gossip, and greetings. Sometimes when you come bearing bruises, they tell you to wait just a little longer.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Just give it time for his temper to settle. Once you're mated it will get better.

Even Moonbyul and Hyejin tell you that planning the perfect crime takes time. That you'll be saved if you only wait. Help is coming.

Bullshit.

You’re tired of waiting for him to kill you, you're tired of waiting to die. You're smarter than all of them because you know exactly how to get everything you want and you're willing to do anything to get it.

The next time Moonbyul and Hyejin take you to the Don and Beta’s house under the guise of afternoon tea, you are prepared for war and dressed with revenge in mind. Your white dress knotted at the shoulders falling in a heavenly sheet, like an avenging angel, neither pious nor sinful.

You are a force of nature and nature does not ask when it takes lives.

What’s worse; the people that enable the abusers or the abusers themselves? Who is more to blame for the pain caused?

You are no longer hiding and you won't let them hide this time. The bruise on your cheek is purple and mottled, the rings of bruises on your wrists from his hands while he held you down.

When you smiled at Geumjae over breakfast this morning, there was only one thought in your mind.

You’re next.

Your agency looks like this; elegantly done hair your skirt a little short for fall. A basket of arsenic-backed goods in a basket as is usual. Fluffy pink cupcakes with the perfect Swiss meringue buttercream in little spirals.

A gentle smile at the beta when she opens her doors for you, letting the monster in, because you’ve been over enough times that she trusts you. You suppose that's your doing too, you've fooled her into thinking you're just another idiot girl who decided to marry rich and didn't bother to consider the strings attached. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, you bare your teeth when you smile.

Hyejin has helped on that front; over the past few months, she has taught you exactly the kind of conversation that the beta likes- the useless conversations about family drama, the small little bits that you let through about your husband’s opinion on which pup is marrying whom, which alpha is good or bad for the packs near dozen omega pups that aren’t mated yet. Which alphas are likely to be a liability? This kind of gossip is all information and strategy.

You might have lied in your call to her and told her you were fearful of one of the younger ones- and a conversation you’d happened to witness on a street corner, a shadowy figure that looked a little too severe not to be the authorities. Of course, these kinds of things have to be handled with discretion and ginseng tea.

The Don does not bother to turn down the TV when you walk in, sitting vulnerable in his recliner with his feet up. It doesn’t appear that he has any sort of inclination or plans to interact with you when you sit here at his kitchen table and talk. Instead, he lounges and watches his sports, loud because his hearing is so bad, nearly deafening.

It’s good. hopefully anyone nearby will not overhear.

You hope that if this goes south before you have a chance to confess that they find the letter you wrote at home; the one that says your husband is the one that put you up to this.

You know that the pack’s retribution will be swift, that any sort of alibi he has will be null and void with the evidence you’ve been leaving. A little trail of breadcrumbs that leads right into a pretty little grave for your husband. Even if you won't be around to see it.

You're already a friend of pain. You already find comfort in it. If they kill you (which they will) then at least it will finally be over.

You wait until the moment you know is coming, when the Don looks over his shoulder at you and comands “Be a dear and bring me one.”

You put one of your artfully created confections on a pretty gold-rimed plate and walk to his side, you lean over to put it in his lap as he indicates. the same way he does every time you come over with sweets.

The lingering hand on your ass is hardly abnormal. behind you the beta's tea cup clinks as she sets her tea down and says nothing. even though you know she notices.

He’s so busy coping a feel he doesn’t notice your other hand, going to the syringe duck taped to your thigh.

It happens quicker than the Don can blink. The most powerful man in the underworld can't be bothered to protect his life for a pretty little piece of ass. You smile down at him, and his hand squeezes the round apple of your behind.

His hand is still on your ass when you whip your arm around with as much force as you can and drive the syringe and plunger into his neck.

You must have hit something in his neck because he barely has a second to splutter before he’s going still and quiet. Mouth falling horrifyingly slack. His breath rattles and his eyes dart as his whole body is paralyzed near instantly, in the time it takes for his blood to circulate.

Two paces, swing, plunge.

The beta barely has a second to scream or stand to attack you. You are so much younger than they are. Your body might be fragile and frail but It’s still stronger than hers. Her brief scream is easily drowned out by the scratch of the TV.

She ends up on the floor, the icing on the cupcakes sticky as she falls into half of them, tossed onto the floor by your brief tussle as you straddle her struggling form. Her pushing gets weaker and weaker and she sobs.

It doesn’t surprise you when you see the black tracery of a dying mating mark itching up her skin.

One thing that the family had always been oh so careful of was to talk only in their mother tongue around you. Secrets are best kept when they’re spoken in foreign tongues. It was a way to isolate you. To make them speak English for you to understand felt like a beholden request. At one point It was a point of insecurity for you, always left out of the loop, always relying on your husband to keep you in the know.

You bend over her as her pushing gets weaker and weaker, the arsenic doing its job, causing numbness and the tingling of extremities before it causes paralysis and then coma and death. Your hair falls in a sheet over the beta’s face.

You’ve studied much over the last few months. Enough that you lean in close over her and speak your words in perfect Korean.

“You look so angry,” you croon softly, dragging a finger down her cheek. Spittle froths at her mouth as she breathes heavily. “You shouldn’t- if you want someone to blame you only need to look in the mirror.”

You lean in close until your lips brush her ear, “it's your fault you see- you're the one who lied" you mimic her voice, making it scratchy, "'just wait a little longer, it will be better for the family if you stay quiet." you laugh, "as if that where true, the only person it benefits is you. You where ready to let him hurt me and kill me if i just stayed quiet."

You wipe away a bit of spit from her lower lip, "You always told me how it was your duty to protect the family- but you only serve yourself. If you'd have done something, if you'd have helped me I wouldn't have had to do this. You just wanted me to shut up and die quietly.”

You switch back to English, “Well now it’s your turn.”

You watch her tongue go numb, paralyzed, but the poison hasn’t advanced far enough for her not to speak.

“Fucking- worthless bitch.”

You laugh and stand brushing some crumbs from your skirt. She’s already too weak to move, to shout, or fight you. You watch the light start to leave her eyes, winking out so slowly, like a dying star. But she still looks so pissed.

“You don’t have a right to be angry, you killed me first. You can’t blame me for fighting back.”

She gives her last breath and the TV plays on. Your shoe ticks her hand, her fingers twitching weakly. You watch as she gasps her last breath, a small smile on your face.

You sit at the table and turn the TV down. You wait a few minutes, but it quickly becomes an hour. You have yourself a nice little treat while you watch, turning the channel to a food network while you eat.

You really are a fantastic cook. The crumb on this batch is so nice you don’t even taste the metallic tang of poison. You eat through one, and then another, until the whole basket is empty.

Before you know it there is a concerned knock at the door. The lock clicks and turns when you answer it.

When Moonbyul opens the door, you laugh at the expression on her face. Licking the frosting from your lips. Even that is delicious.

She takes in their bodies, crumpled on the floor the frosting on your cheeks. The evidence. Both of them dying. A violence you cannot undo.

Her voice is somber. “Oh Pup, what have you done?”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

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Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Notes:

this chapter is a very classic bily chapter, in the fact that there is a fuck ton of fluff and then bang the mafia bits just take you out. we needed to get back into the mafia bits of the story sooner rather than later though 💀

i felt like i was going a little too over the top with certain bits of puptalk in this chapter, but i really wanted to use it to show that like yeah- the pack has been treating her alot more gently since her breakdown, they've been babbying the fuck out of her, even if we don't get to see it :(

Hobi's texts are so???? Fucking cute?? He's so hopeless my god he wants to make her feel loved without actually saying it and i hope you read them and just go "oh, you're an idiot."

I have this whole elaborate backstory to how wonho's gym works with monthly subscriptions to classes where people can decide how many classes they want to take a week, ie gym dues for facilities and then discounted classes on top if they pay for it before hand, with several tiers.

this chapter almost feels clerical- this is definitely more of a set up chapter- where i needed to check off a lot of boxes, like hobi's courting present- before we go any further into the story. things are going to start amping up in terms of stakes pretty quickly.

That one part, where hobi is kinda malfunctioning after the m/c touches his cheek and everyone teases him feels the most representative of the pack as a whole. like that part where they're all replying- feels very real. i struggle a little to capture a sense of domesticity in concise ways, but i think this part is very tidy.

That little touch with hobi- where he touches her wrist and her finger, that touch has so much weight to it, i personally think the whole pack was tasting the sexual tension on the air, can you guys feel it too or is it all in my head?

idk why yoongi calling tae babygirl makes me so flustered but it does 🥵

i really wanted to work calling tae mommy into the chapter someway but tbh this chapter felt complex enough without it.

there is like- one plot hole in this whole story, and that is in the first chapter of the story when yoongi gets a call the person on the other line says "grandfather is dying." implying that his death wasn't instantaneous like this is shown to be. however, in my mind- the injections don't actually kill the don and beta but plunge them into a coma that they never wake up from- is this an actual possibility with arsenic poisoning- NO IT ISN'T lol, you're just going to have to suspend your disbelief for me.

the m/c has always been the person who killed the don and the beta- i've known this since like...maybe the 4th chapter? it wasn't in the og og plan for the story but almost everything in bily has been hammered out since then. and tbh you already knew she killed them just not that it was this violent! does this count as a secret???? idk! maybe!!!

she's a little murder baby just like minnie <3

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.61)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: 3 times you ask for help from the pack, and 3 times help is given.

Tags: Talk of trauma, Brief discussions of animal cruelty (not noodle), philosophical discussions, therapy talk, anxiety, non-sexual subspace, omegaspace, dom! Tae, mommy kink, trans! tae, brief sexual content, hints of free use, Assassin! Jimin, referenced crime, violence, possessive behaviors, nesting, biting,

W/c: 11.9k

A/n: I've made a little birthday list through amazon just like i did last year! although my birthday isn't until the 15th Thank you guys for always loving me and supporting me even when i'm not being the most productive. I hope this next year means i get to write for you guys more and more <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

In the darkness of the library room, you place a hand over your heart and feel its thunderous pace.

Alone in the midmorning hum, you sit on the floor. Trying to ease the ache there on your own before you go and try to get someone else to do it for you. Trying your hardest because now that you know how to try, you just can’t stop.

You have been to exactly 4 therapy sessions. And it’s already starting to help.

Your voice is soft and squeaky. The words are only for you. Eyes screwed shut tight. The same way someone would make a wish on birthday candles.

“You’re going to be so brave, even if you’re scared. You can be as scared as you want so long as you’re brave too.”

These are words you speak to yourself and for yourself. Syllables are shaky and voice warbly with the effort it takes to say them, but they do not fall on deaf ears, because the world Is listening.

Your heart doesn’t beat any slower, ignoring your demands. The world doesn’t spin any slower either. Trying is so scary.

Tae’s printer tucked beside her desk stops printing the dozen or so pages with a happy jingle. Maybe you should have just filled it out online. You thought it would be easier to have it laid out in front of you but now the walls of text just make you feel all the more intimidated.

Jin looks so simply capable of standing there by the kitchen sink, spending a little bit of extra time on deciding the dinner menu tonight because he simply has the time today. It's the first time he's had time to do something like this in a while.

He Looks at your fridge and debates a trip to H-mart. It’s kind of fun when the whole pack decides to go food shopping together. And since your bad day, he hasn’t had the chance to drag you along.

Jin thinks of hunting, of wolves running in a v. the modern version of it is the pack spread out working together to fill their carts. You and Tae taking everyone’s boba and pastry order and waiting in the long line at Tous les Jours, probably convincing her with puppy eyes to get one of the smaller cakes because they just look so pretty.

Namjoon will handle the fish and meat because he likes doing it. Hobi and Jimin will raid the snack aisle and get too many different kinds of gummies that Jin can’t really be mad over because the gummies are his favorite and they’re getting them for him. Jungkook will handle the sauces. He thinks of standing side by side with Yoongi as they bicker overproduce. The perfect way to spend a Sunday.

But Jiminie doesn’t always like going on Sundays- since it can get a little crowded. And to have any of them even a little bit upset doesn't fit with Jin's vision. Maybe if they just go a little bit later.

He hums to himself, oblivious to his audience. Adding things to his list that he sees missing.

The line on the floor sits, blue painter’s tape that seals him off from you. It still feels a little bit dangerous to toe along it even if he’s there. Rules are rules and Jin will make sure you follow them.

Jin’s a far cry from his usual put-together exterior, the hair on the back of his neck all pushed up not like someone had run their fingers through it or like he’s been tugging at it, uselessly stressed.

He doesn't mix his work and home life, and neither does Yoongi. It's a part of the uneasy truce they've struck. If they just don't talk about this, maybe it will go away. But occasionally the stress from it just seeps in like this.

He hasn’t had much time to himself recently, and even less time to spend with the pack. Jin has been dragged away every morning this week for early work meetings and made to stay late for briefings. He’d apologized for it profusely after getting home at 10 p.m. last night, but it wasn't the first movie night missed.

Namjoon was absent too, for a late surgery that dragged on and on. No one had been there to stop Jimin, Jungkook, and Hobi from wrestling each other a little too roughly. Or stop you and Tae from engaging playfully in a pillow fight. Yoongi’s too soft to be so contrary when the pups just want to have fun.

20 minutes ago the rest of the pack dragged him out of the nest and into the shower together. Under the guise of truly testing out every showerhead in the massive shower that Yoongi had constructed, "you mean you've never turned all of them on at once?"

"that wastes water!"

You'd declined, mostly because hobi was already in the bathroom with Namjoon, undressing, and certain things are meant for later.

mumbling that you wanted to go find Jin, and taken those few minutes to do this. You thought you heard some moaning from upstairs, and the sweet scent of your packmates says they're getting up to something. you probably have an hour until they're done.

Jin hadn't waited for the rest of the pack to wake to start the day, you wonder what stress woke him up early. You wish the distance didn’t make you feel guilty, but it does. You know that Jin’s not taking a step from your relationship. It’s just work, right? Jin’s not doing it on purpose.

Or is he?

The second you stand up to the doorway you wish you hadn’t, that you’d done this and just filed away the separate shame of not being enough just in case. The fear of rejection hangs like a low-forming cloud. Being brave is so hard.

It’s okay, maybe you shouldn’t take it personally. You’re hardly the most important person or the person Jin should make time for. He turns, eyebrows raising at you in the door, mouth hidden by the paper. Eyeing you expectantly. Your voice feels quieter, more strained than usual.

“Can I have your help with something?”

That’s how you and Seokjin end up sitting at the kitchen counter for the better part of the morning. H-mart and groceries forgotten, pouring over papers, lists, and deadlines written out in Seokjin’s neat script and your messy scrawl.

His hand presses between your shoulder blades, an affectionate touch. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart.” It doesn’t feel like he should be, because there are facts on the paper, dates, and thresholds that you know you just don’t meet. You twist your fingers over your lap.

“I should have thought about this at the beginning of the summer, I feel like I’ve already run out of time, now I’m gonna have to wait for next semester and-”

Namjoon makes a noise in his throat, stepping into the kitchen. Namjoon’s hair is wet and spikey, his body languid in that relaxed alpha way as he stoops to press a kiss to the back of your head and then Jin’s.

You fear you’re seconds away from the kitchen being inundated with packmates and you haven’t even talked to Yoongi about this. You almost want to cover up the sheets of paper and disappear. You feel approximately 2 inches tall when Namjoon’s eyes survey the mess.

“What’s this?”

Namjoon smells like nest-making, like the pack's pleasure, and it makes you shiver in your seat, all tingly. He smells similar to how he smelled a few nights ago;

After nest-making had finally gotten easier. after you'd finally started to get better, you and the other omegas had finally returned to your usual ritual.

Soft pushes at each other’s shoulders and sleepy scent marks over pillows with just Jungkook and Jin felt good while the others got ready for bed. Accompanied by the sound of Tae humming in the dressing room. The soft voices of Namjoon and Jimin as they chit-chat and brush their teeth.

Hobi watches, gaze darting away when he's caught staring, while he waters some of his plants that you've moved upstairs. turning at every giggle and purr. He watches as Jungkook bites the side of your shoulder, fingers skimming up your stomach to the bottom of your ribs, bare beneath your extra large t-shirt, you're not wearing much underneath. He stares too long, and his monstera overflows, watter dripping onto the floor.

"Shit-"

The curtains are drawn tight. The low alpha rumble of them excites your instincts; humming safe and protected. Humming see alpha, see what we can do for you as they wait to be invited into the nest. yoongi raises his eyebrows at hobi where he sits on the edge of the nest.

You and the other omegas are giggly and a touch closer to omegaspace than you usual. Fingers teasing at the expensive and new nesting materials but not lingering long on them when you have your pack, so close and underfoot. It's rare that you're all down at the same time.

The touches to each other's tummies make you feel softer and fuzzier. Nuzzling along the divots of Jungkook’s, nibbling when you can find something to get between your teeth. Jin’s is pillow soft and squishy like a marshmallow. And you rub your face into it over and over again, trying to get as much of your scent on him as possible, whining when it's just not enough.

“You like my stomach almost as much as the alphas do” Jin had teased, fingers dancing along your spine. His cheeks pink where Jungkook had actually bitten them, all of you are a little bitey.

“Can’t help it- so ’soft.” You’d slurred, half drunk on his pheromones.

Yoongi had waited patiently, eyes darker and warmer on you and Jin as you'd whined. But he'd been the first to be incorporated into the careful rings of fabric. His body arranged once you deemed the nest ready for packmates.

All of your hands lingering over him: his pink knees, his big hands, the curl of his too-long hair at the nape of his neck. Jungkook hummed and tugged at his pants until he shucked those off too. Fresh claiming marks sucked to his thighs, the same treatment that each of your packmates gets when your omegan instincts are roused.

Hobi had even tolerated your fussing with a small smile, when you’d nosed along his collar bones, ramrod straight and let you tug his sweatshirt off for yourself. Namjoon had kept you on a tight leash, fingers scruffing you. when you'd squirmed closer, "Alright, I think this nibbling has gone far enough."

Pheromones thick and comforting, You’re not the only one a little obsessed with Jungkook’s and Jin’s stomachs, for some reason it gives you pause, when you watch him lying prone, watching as Tae mouths at his stomach shirt pulled up, Namjoon letting out these little grumbly purrs.

Once Jin had elected that he was done with nest making, he’d nosed along your shoulders, pulling each of you down for a very thorough scent mark like he was verifying all of you were there, unharmed and happy before he’d been able to fall asleep. You’d curled up close by the wall feeling safe.

You hadn't been awake to year Namjoon and Yoongi's quiet conversation, "do you think this could be pre-heat?"

yoongi's pout had been a little too sullen, a reminder that as much as he's your mate, there are still things he doesn't know about you- what heat and pre-heat looks like one of them. you still haven't gone into heat, even though your last healthcheck went through without pause.

"i don't know. there's still Jin and Jungkooks skipped heats too- maybe its going to happen slowly." namjoon had just pet over the top of your head, "if it is, we'll be ready for it." you'd continued to sleep on, unaware and safe.

But the way that Jin’s looking over the papers is not safe, your anxiety climbing higher and higher. Especially when Namjoon picks up the tuition sheet.

Namjoon’s throat is thick with pride, this this is exactly the kind of thing that he’d been trying to suggest to Jin a few weeks ago. His eyes are a little shiny when he smiles at you. “We can help in any way you need.”

“It’s just community college Namjoon.” Namjoon leans in to kiss your cheek, the warmth under his lips foretelling your embarrassment. You are embarrassed to be seen trying. Embarrassed at the idea of failure.

“But still- we can help with tuition.” Namjoon is filled with glorious purpose, none of his pups will want for anything, and this is a real plan for the future. He's about ready to write a recommendation letter himself.

“Ah” you blink, “I can pay for it myself- Yoongi and I have-”

You were worried about this; talking about it. Acknowledging the elephant in the room. The reason why you and Yoongi don’t have day jobs, is what your blood and years of pain paid for.

“Nonsense- we can loan you the money. If that’s what you're worried about,” Namjoon is already considering this another cost of being a pack alpha, and it’s not even that much, the tuition honestly isn't expensive, at least not to Namjoon. Sure- he might not go around buying you nesting pods any time soon but this is important. This on paper in front of you, is a hint at a real future.

You press your hands flat across the counter, unable to meet his eyes. “No- what I’m saying is I don’t need you to.”

That prompts an entirely different kind of questioning. Namjoon and Jin pour over the documents that Moonbyul had dropped off what feels like months ago along with Hobi’s car. The documents that you’d shoved in the back of a closet are now under scrutiny. Routing codes and account numbers for a set of Swiss bank accounts with dizzying balances. Deeds to houses on the other side of the country and the globe.

Jin looks them up on Zillow just to know how much they’re worth. His mind reeling with the number of attached zeros. The penthouse, the brownstone, the beach house that you’ve never been to off the coast of some foreign country (is Mykonos in Greece or Italy?). The numbers scrawled on napkins add up.

By the end of it, Jin’s hair is more than pulled through. Plush lips pursed and bitten. As far as he can tell this is all by the book, these assets do not belong to the criminal empire but they do belong to you and Yoongi. Jin's FBI brain just can't shut off, not now and not ever.

The truth is, this is more money than any of them have ever dreamed of having, even Namjoon- who makes well into the 6 figures. This is enough money for everyone in the pack to quit their jobs and retire. They probably wouldn't ever run out even if they were foolish with the money, but even then it might last until they're 50.

He gestures at Namjoon wildly. “You need to quit your job,” you sip at the lemonade that Namjoon got up to get you a few minutes ago.

Nodding, teasing. “Yeah Joonie, become my live-in alpha, stay home with me like Taetae does now.”

Your and Yoongi’s accounts are mostly joint, the loose division between Geumjae's multi-million-dollar life insurance policy payout and Yoongi’s inheritance of the min family fortune only in mind mostly. But you’re on each other’s accounts as mates anyway.

Jin should have known, he knows Yoongi paid for the house in cash.

Namjoon laughs, dimples flashing, stooping to kiss your forehead. “You’re supposed to be my sugar baby.”

“We can trade off and on if it makes you feel better.”

~-~

It’s a soft night when you seek Jin out next. The blinds are drawn against the streetlights outside. The cul-de-sac is empty except for Noodle, hunting little mice in the brush. Inside the house with lip-up yellow windows, the pack is in various spaces of dress and undress, asleep and awake.

The one consistency as always, is the love.

The last time you checked, most of the pack was in the back room. Jin had unanimously decided for all your sakes that Jungkook's video games should go back there, the farthest away from the stairwell where sounds have a habit of echoing. Where their shouts and cries of dismay will not disturb the rest of the pack quite so much.

When you last peered in, Jungkook had Yoongi in his lap and Jimin and Tae were screaming and bickering over the right way to play something called prop hunt. Hobi reigns victorious with a green controller held over over a bowl of popcorn balanced between his crossed legs. They don't always do this, and you're resistant to sour their time with your lack of knowledge and lack of interest.

Namjoon is passed out upstairs, tired from his surgery today; a marathon 14-hour one to detangle a tumor from a patient's brainstem. Luckily successful or else Namjoon might have been weighed down by something more than just exhaustion.

You’d gone up there briefly to shower with him because he honestly needed someone to make sure he didn’t fall asleep in the shower but he’d been adamant that he didn’t need help. You’d asked ever so sweetly if you could do it with him for company. You missed out on the pack shower yesterday you whine, Namjoon has a hard time saying no when you pout.

Namjoon was too tired for anything salacious in nature and also too tired to protest against some grooming. You’d made him sit on the bench along the wall and washed his hair and body. Groaning and resting his head against your chest where you’d stood between his legs. He’d collapsed into bed so tired he could hardly mumble a thank you, but you’d still bent over and kissed his head before joining the others downstairs.

It felt good, to take care of him a little. Dr.Rima suggested that you make a bit more effort to spend time one-on-one with your packmates, and it’s been mostly a good thing.

You know soon you’ll all be up there. Cuddled to his chest probably, tired Joonie cuddles are the best when he lays all soft and heavy without worrying that he's going to crush you. But not yet. You’re not looking for the others shouting in the other room, you’re looking for a different sort of company.

Jin is in the living room, his glasses down on the edge of his nose as his eyes indulge in a copy of psychology today. There are several pages already flipped down and bookmarked already. You stand in the hallway. The pajamas you wear are some of the first Jin and Namjoon ever gave you, the white top and bottom dotted with red hearts.

They used to look so pristine and clean but love and time have done its damage. There’s an orange stain on the middle from some tomato soup a few weeks ago, and the bottoms are a little discolored from a late-night trip to the beach that left the hem soaked deep with sand. Even though the pajama set has seen better days, the non-irritating crepe fabric is worn in all the right places and it's still your favorite.

All things given with love eventually wear out (to love it to be changed) so you won’t be too upset about it. At first, you think that Jin doesn’t notice that you’re standing there, that you’re watching him, but he wordlessly holds out an arm without looking up from his magazine.

You collapse with him onto the couch. Lining your bodies up your bare ankle hits his. A small purr builds in his chest as a sleepy hello. “The others are being noisy,” you complain, it’s true, from here you can hear Hobi shout something like “hyung that is so not fair-“ and Jungkook shrieking “Kill him!! Kill him!!!”

“Want me to make them quiet for you sweetheart?” He asks, kissing your cheek softly. He shifts his position so that he can hold the magazine with just one hand and his other can stroke up and down your arm. Encircling your body in one smooth movement. You don’t pay the copy of Psychology Today much mind.

“No, just want to be quiet with you.” You stretch out and Jin parts his legs for you to recline into him. Letting out a small heavy breath when you lie your weight against his chest nosing at his throat. He continues to read in silence while you nose at his throat, mouthing sleepily and pupish at his scent gland.

He makes a noise, legs stretching out properly. But he has no other reaction until you ask, “What are you reading?”

Jin lets out a heavy breath, and the pages make a fluttering sound, “A debrief of a study that happened before pesky things like ethics was involved with psychological testing," You huff a soft laugh against this chin and Jin rests his cheek against the top of your head.

"It’s a little heavy, but I think you'd actually find it interesting because of-" Jin breaks off, and that word, the dirty one, therapy, hovers on the edge of his tongue. He looks back at the magazine and shifts you more properly on top of his chest. Your hand's toy with the button on his sleep shirt, undoing it and then another one. "Want me to read it out to you?”

You peck below his chin on his neck, and you can feel Jin’s body twitch beneath you, his hand going a little firmer. "Sure, just not the whole thing” The words on the page are small small. "You can just tell me what it’s about if that's easier."

Having you suck at his scent gland is distracting, and Jin’s voice goes a little deeper as you continue to lavish it with little kisses. the tops of his ears heating as he talks. Jin's neck has always been sensitive.

“In a time before ethics in the 1950s, in an effort to quantify willpower, a psychologist out of John Hopkins conducted an experiment on rats.”

You continue to kiss, and suck, teething on his neck, all cuddled ontop of him. Only half paying attention to what he’s saying, your hips shifting to nestle one of his thighs between. Not pressing down, not just yet.

“There were two test groups. The first group of rats was left in approximately 12 inches of water and left to drown."

You stop your shifting, pulling back a little to look at Jin, but he keeps reading. Lips carving the words roughly from the air in summary. Attention fixed on the paper in front of him, eyebrows pulled together.

“The average rat could only last around 30 minutes before drowning but-“ Jin swallows, and you feel it against your throat. “If the testers took them out just before they lost energy and dried them off…If they gave them a moment to rest, something to eat, before putting them back in the water they’d last hours longer. Sometimes a full day before eventually scumming.

"This only led them to one conclusion: If the rats believed they were going to be saved again they would try longer to survive, tapping into a hidden source of willpower. Hope has a dirastic increase on survival rates.” He still hasn’t looked at you. Index finger sliding over the last paragraph.

He continues to read his magazine, a hand loosely wrapped around your waist. Palm rubbing up and down your back. You shrivel your nose at the paper, “It sounds cruel.”

“It was.”

You think of the rats, their dried fur, the hands that saved them, and the hands that hurt them. Indistinguishable from one another. You shiver. Jin doesn't look at you, still at the magazine.

“This article is trying to relate it to patient outcomes, especially when it comes to giving therapy to military members half way through deployment. It’s never been replicated; a lot of people don’t think it’s factual anymore.”

“What do you think?” Jin doesn’t turn to you, instead turning the page to another article, this one about new antipsychotics for schizophrenia.

“I think it’s hard to test for things like hope.”

You pause for a second and then continue to drag your lips up Jin’s throat, and the magazine lands with a flop on the floor all the stories about rats and dying things and both of Jin’s arms embrace you.

“I’m being terribly rude; I normally talk about all this stuff with Namjoon.”

You huff, smile pressed to his skin. It’s easy to forget about the rats when you’ve got him close and giving you his full attention now. You’ll think about it later you’re too sleepy now, a little scent drunk too. Jin’s body is comfy and soft beneath yours, you nuzzle closer, hair getting messed on account of the rigorousness of your scent marking.

You unbutton the last button on his sleep shirt and push it away so that you can loop your arms around his waist, and the next breath that fills Jin's diaphragm feels shaky. you like jin's chest, his stomach, theres something about cuddling close to him like this that makes you feel taken care of.

You don't know that Jin likes it when you touch him like this, with a certain level of entitlement. Of course, you're allowed to disrobe him on the couch, of course, his body belongs to you in this way. He's your pack omega for a reason, Jin's body and scent belong as much to you as any of the other packmates. Any of his packmate's wants will be handled just as routinely as this. If you want him bare, he'll undress for you right here.

It's a good thing that he closed the blinds earlier.

Your pout makes him want to give you everything, Jin's hands tighten on your waist, pulling the hem of your pajama shirt up too so that your bare stomachs can rest against each other. Fuck. something about this always makes Jin's skin feel hot and taught. “You are.” you whine, pecking his lips sloppy and needy, licking into them a bit, "make it up to me?"

Jin’s hands go hard on your back, fluttering along your spine to the back of your neck. And his scent blooms sweet underneath you. “Ah Jungkook’s been rubbing off on you. My spoiled spoiled little pup.”

Jin’s hair against your neck tickles and you giggle as he pulls you more firmly on top of him, after the first kiss you’re not thinking about him ignoring you in favor of reading, and after the 5th you don’t even remember what the article was about.

You’ll think about it later, for now, the scent of the two of you sweetens in the room. Until it fills the house, so sweet that even Namjoon upstairs stirs, growling softly.

You'll think about it later.

~-~

Your therapy days have become something of a celebration. Is it weird that you're surprised by that? Of course, the pack would come to celebrate you getting better. Of course they would linger and reward you for trying to hard.

They’ve always liked to make big things out of small ones. Your therapy sessions have become mini-impromptu dates. Each of them takes their time and their day to take you.

It’s important to prioritize one-on-one time in large packs. To still date even when they’re very little wooing left to do. Even if everything sort of feels like a date with them. the intention is different when you name it.

They take their turns going with you. Namjoon when he has a rare day off. To the botanical gardens after just to give you some reason to get out of the cold and into the humidity. You take Hobi back there when it’s time for your next one.

The gardens help keep any seasonal depression at bay, with all the trees skeletal and the sky grey more often than not. You go with Tae the next time and then to a bookstore after. You get a new notebook while she looks at the covers with wide beholden eyes.

Today, you don’t know if you’ll get something so sweet after.

Today doesn't feel like the rest of the therapy sessions. The sessions with Dr. Rima aren't always easy. You don’t know why this visit in particular has you anxious but it does. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, a vague tingle in your fingertips. You can't not think about it. It's a little maddening, feeling like you don't have control over your thoughts.

You get ready hours earlier than you need to because you need something to do. But then find yourself with nothing to do. Waiting. Pacing.

You pick at your nailbeds until they bleed. Bad, bad pup.

The breath in your chest is a little taught and tight, like an overfilled balloon. There is no one but Tae home today, although Jimin will be here soon to take you to your appointment. You don’t want to feel this way. But you don’t know how to solve it on your own. You don’t want to disturb Tae.

Tae being home all the time now has been a good thing generally. But it’s also been distracting for both of you. Why would you spend time helping Yoongi with the house when you can cuddle up with her in her library room or nest with her upstairs? Why would she spend her time writing when she's got you underfoot?

Yesterday you did just that, Until the little kisses sloppy kisses, and nervous touches turned less little and more lingering. Hands firm and possessive, although there was no one for Tae to possess you from. moving against each other until the seat of your pajama bottoms were soaked through with slick. Until Tae's fingers stopped rubbing over you, stopped teasing. Crooning, "Oh pup, let mommy fix it."

It was the first time since Jungkook and your little mishap, that you'd sought out sex from Tae. It left you feeling glowy and a little dumb. A little ravenous for her touch, you wince when you think of how demanding you'd gotten. Tae's knot had left you feeling sore in a good way. A faint tenderness between your legs tempts you again to nest the day away.

Baby steps. Dr. Rima reminded you last session.

But you know you distract Tae from her writing. She'd said as much, cuddled to the side, fingers tucked into your cunt not even fucking you with them, just holding you. Grinning dumbly. "If you don't keep this sweet little hole away from me, I'll never get anything done. I don't know how Yoongi does it."

After yesterday, you know that she wants to get some real work in. She'd left the breakfast table saying that much. You've heard her leave a handful of times since then. To get water or snacks.

It’s not always easy, going to therapy, not feeling upset about it or vaguely afraid. You thought the instinct against being vulnerable had been trained out of you by the pack. it's hard to unlearn old habits.

Part of you wants to run away from her, not towards her as you knock on the library door. There's a soft throaty noise that you recognize as Tae's, inviting you to come in. She clicks away on her computer, not looking up at you.

You stand there in the doorway rocking on your heels for a moment. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and her headphones are off one ear. Sometimes she gets so into her writing that her music shuts off and she forgets to turn it on. There is no hum coming from them and yet, she does not turn to you when you stand in the doorway.

“Tae?”

She does not react, and your shoulders curl in, the ache of being a bother intensifying. Her clicking. You waiting. You wait until you can't any longer, the fear building-

“Mommy?”

Tae stops immediately, her wide brown eyes coquettish in how she looks at you (like she doesn’t know exactly what you want. What you need). Her eyes flick down to your knocking knees.

She opens her arms and you fall into her, quickly you rush to be enveloped by her touch. Needy. You are always so needy for her. With Tae, it's hard to be self-conscious about it.

Since she’s been spending so much time at home, she’s taken to wearing flimsy little nightdresses at all hours of the day. Today's dress is white with cream-colored lace, down to her knees, rucked up by your sitting. fuzzy slippers and a thick robe keep out the chill. She probably doesn't even realize that it's midday, as focused and as dedicated as she is.

"Ah, baby pup,"

You nuzzle into the collar where her robe has soaked up her scent more. You know she kinda misses getting ready every day, that she misses doing her makeup and leaving for work like the rest of them. You’d promised that you’d accompany her to a coffee shop one of the days this week that you didn’t have therapy. Just so that she could get out of the house.

All of this takes Adjustments. You’re both learning to ask for what you want and to endure what you know you need. Like the therapy sessions.

The clock says that you have exactly 2 more hours until you need to leave with Jiminie but he’s not home yet. He’s not home yet and neither is Yoongi but your brain is swimming. Knots in your tummy. You don't want to go but you don't want to not go either. You don't know how to stop feeling this way, so torn up about it.

You need a settling.

“I don’t want to bother you, if you want to go back to writing you can- I’ll just-"

Tae catches your chin in her manicured hand. “What do you need.”

It’s more of a command than a question. You sit there and Tae’s looking. Scrutinizing you, breaking you down with just a single look. Your arms tighten around her shoulders, clinging to her when it becomes clear your neediness hasn’t escaped her notice. This thing clawing at your chest to be settled, to be constrained, is something she can handle.

Your response comes out of you in a rush, a franticness to your scent that isn’t becoming of Tae’s softest little pup.

“Can you make my brain shut off please?”

half plea and half polite. Tae’s hand instantly laces through your hair, tugging hard. A taught whine bursts from you. Any other time you’d be ashamed of the noise you let out but she only purrs in contentment.

She pulls on your hair gently, making you arch your neck until you can't anymore like she's testing how far you're willing to contort your body to obey her touch. Teasing your shoulders apart, making you not hunch without you consciously deciding to shift your posture (one of these days, Jin and Tae are going to posture train you).

The kiss she plants in the hollow of your throat is nothing if not understanding. You're so pliant and malleable when you're overwhelmed. The breathless whine you let out is not sexual, there simply isn't room for any more wanting when the fullest breath of Tae’s dominance rushes over you like a wave.

Tae never raises her voice and never snaps. She doesn't need to to get you to do what she wants. She doesn't need to force it. Your eyes are glassy when she lets go, smiling down at you as her fingers linger over your lips before she cups your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the joint until it opens. There you go pup, breathe.

“I’m going to tell you what to do, and it’s your job to do as I say pup, do you understand?”

“Yes Mommy.”

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you that isn’t 'Yes Mommy' or 'No Mommy'. It’s not your job to speak right now.” That somehow, being given permission feels like a relief. That's why you're anxious, isn't it? You want to go non-verbal today, but can't because of the session. Tae gives you relief in the form of permission.

“Yes Mommy.”

“Good, now sit on the floor.” Your knees go weak before you even hear the full sentence, and she grabs your arms hard when you stop to drop. Making your descent more controlled.

“Wait,” you hold your breath while Tae stands, retrieving one of the pillows on the couch and setting it down for your knees. She really ought to have thought of this before and set up the dark alcove beneath her desk with something softer, a thick cushion (If only she had a pup bed for you). The space is dark and warm, next to the heater, you drop, and Tae scoots closer, hands still on your upper arms as she guides you.

“Rest your head on Mommy’s thigh, stay put and quiet until Minnie gets home. I’ll cuddle you when you’re done. To bring you back up”

Your lips form the words without you having to think them, your brain already fluttering down softly into a lower state of concern and anxiety. Rhere is nothing that matters but this, there is only her. Her hands haven’t really left your hair, long nails scratching dully against your scalp. “Yes Mommy.”

“What do you say.” Tae’s words are clean and precise. No mincing them as she holds your chin and makes you look at her, finger fluttering across your lower lip and freeing it from between your teeth. "If you need to bite something, bite me. Not yourself."

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Good girl.”

You rest your cheek against Tae’s thigh, not peering up her skirt because you don’t think she’d allow you to. It’s hazy and soft here, in the quiet under her desk. The light is warm and so is this place. Her warm calf pressed to your front, your fingers grabbing blindly at the hollow of her knee, her foot just beneath you curled around her thigh.

She needs both hands to write but you wrap your arms around her leg. Smooth. Your fingers skim up and down the skin there hugging her to your chest weakly, resting your cheek on her thigh. “That’s a good pup get closer.”

Encouraged to cling You move until Tae's leg is pressed from your core to your chin, sideways between her thighs, resting your cheek on the edge of her skirt, between her hip and thigh, looking up at her. Just looking.

The hormone shots make Tae’s scent glands sensitive and swollen under your touch, and you’re brazen enough to lap at the ones on her thighs, soothing them. You can smell that they're hurting, somehow your instincts tell you. her scent only smells strange where where injects them, a little artificial, a little sour from the pain. but mostly it's just Tae.

Your fingers curling the hollow of her knees, breathing in deep. Your brain is a mess of mommy mommy mommy over and over again like a hymn and prayer. Her long manicured fingers press at your scalp scratching. And your eyelashes flutter shut.

"Is this good my love?” She asks hesitantly, if you were more aware you might hear a bit of insecurity in her voice. You can only whine in response.

There is only Tae, her clacking on her computer, backspacing a bunch, and then writing more. A quiet hum under her breath. And the occasional gentle pet over the top of your head when she reads through certain paragraphs and doesn't need the use of both her hands.

you don't know when you close your eyes or if you fall asleep, the state you enter is kind of like that, if dissociation could be pleasant, it feels like that. Honed in, every single one of your instincts with a laser focus on her, everywhere you touch, humming and alive and as necessary as the breath in your lungs.

Soft huffs of breath tease the hem of her skirt. And the next time you're aware, it's because there's another scent in the air.

Vanilla, the smoky sort coats your tongue, complimenting your mommy's scent so beautifully. Enough that your tongue sticks out between your pressed teeth to taste it in the air.

Alpha, another one, not your mommy is here and you tilt your face up and into the light. You hear the soft smacking sound of brief kisses, and then another hand on your head running through your hair, tugging you to look up at him. Tae taps your tongue playfully and you open your mouth, wanting to suck.

"Ah pup, you're too small for that right now," You look up.

Jimin has his hand softly tangled in Tae's hair, tentative- like the touch has been negotiated- like he's not sure he's allowed. Tae's scent has not sweetened, it hasn't even mellowed out.

Jimin blinks once, twice, and then a third time at the sight that he sees. Eyes wide and glassy, scent sweet, not in that pleasure or I’ve just cum way that’s semi-addictive to the alpha's. He rolls him roll his tongue against his teeth when he can scent it. This kind of pleasure is a different kind of fullness.

A happy shiver works its way up Jimin’s body, and Tae hums, she’s only used to seeing him shiver for her.

“You’re in no state to go to leave the house” but Jimin’s voice is not disapproving, if anything it’s honey velvet fond. Tae shifts back and you move with her, letting out a small whine at the sudden vacancy against your front where you’d been hugging her to your chest.

it’s easily extinguished when Jimin picks you up and places you on the couch where she’s waiting. Alpha's so good and strong, your instincts pur and Jimin freezes. He hasn't heard you purr so much as Tae has, as the others have. But it makes goosebumps rise on his arms.

You whine, squirming closer. When he supports you.

“Hold on pup,” but Tae is already smearing the scent blockers on. You whine, but you know she needs it if you want to be clear-headed by the time you have to leave. Scent drunk and pupish is not an adequate mindset to get the most out of therapy. And you're reminded of that by Jimin, that's why Alpha's here isn't he? That's why he's softly detangling your hair, asking you questions until you answer with more than mumbles.

Your hair has fallen over your face and jimin tries unsuccessfully to do more than tuck it behind your ear.

She laughs, and it's half real, "Minnie. Like this." Jimin flushes, but you sit, gladly made a puppet while she teaches him how to braid. over. under. Tae puts some distance between herself and you until the room has stopped spinning, until you stop smelling only alpha and other things too.

You're much more clear headed when Tae presses a glass of cold water into your hands. Jimin listlessly stimming up and down your arms, the gentle tugging making you blink back the haze. Still quiet, but mostly back to yourself.

Jimin puts you in Tae’s coat, one of the cute quilted ones with a floral outside, warm and snuggly. Tae kisses your flushed cheeks in the doorway, promising more of…whatever that was when you get home.

Jimin always smells so nice, a nice mixture of cigarette smoke, barely hidden and washed away, and his vanilla musk, warm against your nose. He buckles you into the front seat when you sit, leans over to kiss your temple, hand hovering on your knee.

Minnie has always been a touchy alpha and the drive to the therapist’s office is no different. He always gets so close when it’s just the two of you, like he no longer has the others to distract him or needs to make up the lack of protection with touch.

You are just as quiet as you are close on the way to therapy, Jimin's hand loosely twined with yours on the driver's seat. Your phone buzzes occasionally.

Kookoocachoo (3:22): Hey just realized, it might be easier for me to like meet you and Minnie there, rather than for Yoongi to come all the way here and pick me up from work like usual???

Yoomie (3:23): Are you sure? It's really no trouble.

Kookoocachoo (3:24): Yeah makes no sense, I can run it in like 15 minutes!

Jinnie <3 (3:24): Just be careful!

And then in your private chat, there is this:

Yoomie (3:27): Fuck must have just missed you.

Yoomie (3:27): just got home.

Yoomie (3:28): Make sure Jimin texts when you're on the way home.

You know that Yoongi feels like he needs to come with you to every session, but honestly it's okay. The quiet with Jimin. It's a little nice. Not nice in the way that you don't miss him (because you always sort of miss Yoongi, even if he's barely an inch away). But just like when it's just you and Yoongi when it's just you and Jimin; neither of you needs to pretend.

You (3:30): It's okay! Minnie will take good care of me.

You (3:30): See!

You send him a picture of your clasped hands, Jimin's face a little blurry from how much the car is moving.

Yoomie (3:30): Cute. Good 😚

Yoomie (3:31): Literally I can come to meet you. It's no trouble.

You (3:32): 😑

He leads you inside with his hand laced in yours. Jimin’s commanding aura directs other alphas into looking away when their gazes happen to stray to you. Staying close, scanning the crowd for potential threats, tugging you along with your hand behind him quiet.

You and Jimin are often quiet when you’re together, but it’s that kind of soft understanding silence. Jimin speaks with his body.

You’re quiet when he kisses your forehead when your fingers tangle loosely with his, his fingers listlessly stimming with yours tapping tap tap across your knuckles in the waiting room, taking your coat when you tug at the sleeves, small and overheated. Small, you have small hands like his but he likes it, he taps your knuckles and you tap his rings.

“I like this one,” you say in the quiet of the yellow waiting room.

“You do?” Jimin says, already planning on either buying you a matching one or wearing it more often. You tap it again.

But it’s comforting, the way his fingers tease at the hair at the edge of your hairline. Constantly touching you like he’s reinforcing the idea that you’re there still safe. The contact is just firm enough for any lingering fear to fade.

He gets more antsy when the time comes for you to go into the room with Dr.Rima. Just like Yoongi did, he won’t leave the waiting room for the entirety of your hour-long appointment. Jimin whips his hands on his black jeans as he stands and shakes Dr.Rima's hands.

“I’m sorry she might not be in the best-”

You bound up to Dr.Rima and hug her loosely around her waist, she recoils slightly, not upset, just surprised. Most of her omega patients go physically affectionate after a few sessions. Her eyes go wide as you start to prattle on about Tae. Taetae this and Taetae that.

“Oh!” but Dr. Rima isn’t at all upset that you’re a touch too close to omegaspace to have a coherent conversation. Even though Jimin apologizes again and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you away. “That’s quite alright, I suspected something like this would happen since we talked about O.s. last session.”

Jimin lingers, worries over letting you go through the door. It only takes a few seconds in her presence for your brain to right itself. Beta- not your beta but a strange one. The pheromonal response is near instant. You step away, eyes more lucid, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

Dr.Rima laughs and Jimin can’t help himself either, an unwilling grin cracking his smile open.You apologize, but Dr. Rima just shakes her head and tells you there's nothing to be sorry for.

“It's not all that abnormal. A lot of omegas who have been in traumatic experiences fall into omegaspace abnormally often, like 30-40 percent more often than omegas who haven’t-”

~-~

After the therapy session, you’re much more clearheaded. You didn’t cry this time but then again you’ve only cried for half of them. It's a calm clean feeling. You find Jimin again in the waiting room, texting on his phone, you've got half a hundred unanswered notifications. The simple contact of a hello hug is just firm enough for the last bit of discomfort and anxiety you had to fade.

“Good?” he asks, low alpha growl soothing,

“Yeah” answer, the reassurance simple but enough. You have plans to meet up with Jungkook at the coffee shop across the street- not the one downstairs, separated by a narrow stretch of road that’s closed on the weekends for foot traffic.

It’s gotten colder in the time of your therapy appointment, and the wind rushes over you funneled down the narrow streets. The sweatshirt of Hobi’s you wear today is stiff and dark, non-descript. Jimin tugs you under his arm, even after he puts Tae's jacket back on you.

“They’d kill me if they saw you shivering.” You nuzzle closer. And you sense he’s burning with questions. He keeps them in until you're in line at the cafe. It's got a dark tile floor and a similarly dark interior, minimalistic and vaguely retro with a row of bar stools and a line of black pleather booths. A few people are in line in front of you and a few behind, no one who might matter overhearing.

“What do you talk about with her?”

“A lot of things, Geumjae mostly.” Jimin wilts a little. His eyes turning a little darker with shame. You wish you were able to more accurately predict his emotions and make the truth less lethal. But somehow, you think Jimin would know if you tried to lie, you won’t spare him honesty for guilt. That’s not a fair trade.

Your foot skitters across the tile. Kicking the rough edge uselessly before your feet. “It’s good to like, talk it out with someone who’s not you guys, mostly because I worry it burdens you.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it burden us?” you sigh, and you do not want to pull your punches.

“I don’t know. Why haven’t you talked it out with Tae yet?” Jimin does not wince. Jimin just looks at you and hands over his black card to the barista.

“What do you want?”

“Just a latte,”

“A latte and a triple shot,” Jimin jabs a finger at the glass cage where they keep the pretty pastries, naming half a dozen things.

“I didn’t say I wanted one,” Jimin raises his eyebrow, and you melt a little into him. Because yeah, you want one even if you didn't say it, you're just being contrary.

Leaning, he takes your weight, guiding you to stand away from the counter when he takes his card back. To the barista, you must just look like any other clingy couple. Something about Jimin makes you forget that you have an audience. Something about Jimin makes it feel like it’s always just you. His fingers are calloused (probably from a gun) and cold from walking outside. Clutching your hand softly.

“Tae and I will talk.” He sighs, but it sounds like the truth. He sounds so sure of himself. “We will just- I can tell she doesn’t want to talk with me. I never want to do anything she doesn’t want to do. You get that right?”

You think about Jimin- everything he’s ever done, your afternoon in the backroom where he and you made the painting in Tae’s library room. How giving he was then and how giving he always is. Jimin gives and gives and now looking at him, the curve to his shoulders, you wonder what he feels like he has to make up for.

Why he can't be the one to ask? To make it better. You know it's probably just respect (respect for Tae's wants and needs) but maybe sometimes respect gives too much distance. Maybe there is no love without mutually assured destruction.

Maybe you shouldn't be so critical of him. He got you pastries, even though you didn’t ask, just in case you wanted them.

His eyes are downcast, and when your coffee comes out, he sniffs at it before asking. “Milk? Sugar?” He hands it over and takes it back after you’ve taken a sip.

“Yeah,” Jimin pops off the lid and sets it up, not letting you lift a finger. Hitting the packets against the counter to break them up. He rips the sugar packets with his teeth.

Jimin speaks more as he pours them out, “Even if she’s still mad at me, I’ll wait until not being mad at me is what she wants. I can handle her being mad and disappointed, what I can’t handle is her not loving me. If she didn’t care at all, I’d be more worried. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

“I don’t’ think this waiting is helping anyone.”

Jimin takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ll talk to her, if you think I should. I’ll bring it up if you think I’m letting it stew too long.”

You nod and sip your coffee, your phone jingles, and you look at it, it's just Jungkook, letting you know he's leaving the gym now. The selfie of him makes you smile. The jingle of your phone is interrupted by a similar jingle. The door to the coffee shop opened.

When you look up you almost do a double take, but the face sinking through the crowd enters just like the winter chill.

Moonbyul is absent from her usual entourage, not Hyejin, wheein, or Solar. wearing a thick wool coat over a smart 3 peice suit. She smiles showing her teeth a little too much. your smile falls just as quickly.

"Minnie"

Jimin is not quick enough to stand before she's upon you. he's up and out of the booth before he even sees who and what is making you scared. Jimin stands and growls, the sound alerting a few of the other people in the coffee shop. But Moonbyul just tuts. "Down puppy."

You find yourself lost for words. especially when she slides in and sets her coffees down. barely two breaths and she's there smiling at you. Jimin sits next to you, tilting his body almost over yours.

A moment passes in the silence where you take her in.

"What? Aren't you happy to see me? No warm welcome this time?" Her smile is like that of a cat. She already has a coffee, two of them in her hands.

Something isn't right. Somethings wrong. You don't know what it is as you look up at her. You stay quiet.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

Your brain finally gets back online, through the roaring in your ears. your voice sounds strange. Professional even to you. "Somehow I think you will anyway."

She sits, and Jimin's body is taught like a rubber band waiting to snap. Hands under the table, glaring at her like he wants to kill her. He probably does. He's probably already planning it.

Think think think, come on.

“It’s nice to see you happy, though less nice that it’s not with us.” Moonbyul’s words are almost acidic in how she spits them. Bitter. More bitter than she should be.

You grip the sleeves of your sweatshirt for comfort and you watch her nostrils flare, you wonder if she can smell Hobi on it. Suddenly- you don’t like the idea that she might know his scent, that she’d know any of your pack’s scents. Tae's included. She'd scented you so heavily earlier there's no way Moonbyul doesn't smell her on you.

You still feel like a schoolgirl under her gaze. But you’re not the same shattered omega you were when you needed their help to survive. And that has never been clearer than right now.

(If you’re being honest. You never did need her help. yoongi is the one who made sure you survived, she's just the one who helped you get revenge)

“I am happy,” it’s a simple fact but it only seems to anger them more. as her smile falters.

“Bullshit” she says delicately. (Did the snake in Eden whisper or shout? To what voice and tone is temptation but this, an unwanted earworm.) She tilts her head. "If you were happy, you wouldn't need Sharon. Or should I say- Dr. Rima."

You go cold, dripping fear seeping down your back. You swallow back your questions. It doesn't surprise you, that was one of the things that Geumjae always coached you about- not going to the authorities, not saying anything to anyone who might talk. How long has she been in Moonbyul’s pocket is another question that you'll answer later.

You feel strangely hollow at the betrayal. Hollower still when she looks at you, smiling. red lips lifting. She can tell she's unnerving you. Beside Jimin, you quake. His hand goes firm on your wrist. Squeezing once before he lets go.

The click of a knocking pin on a gun is unmistakable. Jimin smiles, resting his chin on his right hand. You don’t need to ask what the other one is doing. How he got the gun out from where it was tucked in his waistband, his underarm saddles, or where it came from is inconsequential.

“Careful.” His voice is a lethal purr, the iris of his eyes glinting red from the Eddison bulbs over the countertop. Reflecting them. “I’ll take a lot of jabs lying down but a threat” Jimin murmurs. “That might make me angry.”

Moonbyul does not look unnerved by Jimin’s exterior the falling of his most delicate disguise. Jimin looks and smells lethal, but so does Moonbyul. “You seem to be enjoying the claws my organization awards you, remember who sharpens them will you.” She makes a flippant movement with her hands. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Bullshit” Jimin parrots, “she’s my omega.”

Moonbyul laughs at that, loud enough that it drags the attention to you from other tables. A small pup is sitting across the isle from you with it's parents, a fluffy teadybear onsie pulled around its wiggling feet. Babbling and waving its hands, excited and making eye contact.

Your hand finds Jimin’s under the table, hand on the gun, making him put it away. Desperate. “Not here Minnie. Not-“

“If anyone has a claim on her, it’s certainly not alpha trash like you.” You can sense Jimin’s anger growing thinner, the tether between action and complacency going taught. You make your eyes wider, your scent sweeter, furrowing your eyebrows at Moonbyul like you’re just some confused little omega pup. You know the effect your scent has on alphas, and you hope the sweetness is enough for both of them.

“If you really care about me, shouldn’t my happiness be the thing you prioritize?”

Moonbyul searches for her phone and finds it in her wallet, checking it before she puts it around her shoulder. behaving like there isn't a loaded Gun pointing right at her abdomen. The chain jingles and you notice it’s the same make and model of wallet that Jimin bought you so many months ago, for your first courting date. You met her in such a similar circumstance that night.

You wonder how much she knows, how much she's been watching you. the intel she's gathered.

“You sound like you’re reciting something that they’ve told you.” she reaches across the table and cups your cheek. Her nails, they’re not normal, you can feel it the second they touch your cheeks, they’re metal-tipped, not just the usual gel extensions. “If your alphas ever tell you that, you should know they’re lying.”

Her fingers dig a little, and Jimin reaches across the table and yanks her wrist. Slapping it. They're both standing, alpha aggression urged into action before you have a chance to process what's happening. Standing between them until Jimin effortlessly puts you behind his back. Growing larger in the small space. He's the same size as her but it doesn't feel that way, his scent so obtrusive that several people around you fall quiet.

She flicks her hand, but she doesn’t scratch you hard enough to draw blood.

And then the truth: she hisses, it spits it, something feral and dangerous in her eyes that you only saw in those moments in her nest what feels like years ago. That nest never felt like the omegas or Hyejin's. Any nest that was ever in their den always felt like hers. Moonbyul is the kind of alpha that claims everything she touches and your cheeks burn where she held you.

“You should have never been Yoongi’s. You should have known that and returned to us in a timely manner.”

Once upon a time, you would have felt safe enough to say what you thought around Moonbyul and her pack but that time has long past. To call them hostile is an understatement. You’re not an idiot, no matter what they might think of you or how many years younger you might be.

“I’m not convinced that you met us here unintentionally.”

Moonbyul hums, all but a confession. She disengages with Jimin almost instantly. “We’ll be seeing more of each other soon.” She reaches across the table to get both of her coffee cups. A flourish of her wool coat sends her peppermint scent fluffing over yours, and you shrivel your nose.

You’d have thought that Moonbyul’s anger would smell stronger, but honestly- she just smells sickly sweet, like the first pop of peppermint gum. Almost crumbly. Like the fake snow that they put on fake Christmas trees. Artificial.

Her metal-tipped fingers tighten the waistband on her coat. She looks at you while she tightens it.

She turns without another word and seconds later the door is clanging and Jungkook is there, shirt rucked up and not wearing his jacket, sweaty abbs on display probably just because he’s overheated from running here. His grin is boyish when he spots both you and Jimin. Popping out his headphones, walking past Moonbyul, not her any mind even though you hold your breath.

“God Wonho put me through my fucking paces today, had us do this wicked circuit-” Jungkook’s expression falls, exercise high fading when he takes in you and Jimin, the anxious edge to your scents, “What's wrong?! Both of you look-” you struggle, and Jimin muscles his way around you.

“Just- bad therapy session.” You choke out. Still reeling.

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes go bunny wide, “oh- just here-“ Jungkook pulls you in, nuzzling over your hairline, scenting you a little.

In the window, you can see them. Hyejin is there, the person who Moonbyul must have been meeting. The other coffee is in her hands now. You watch as her hand tightens around the paper cup. Crushing it and sending hot milky liquid onto the concrete. In the thrum of people, it's hardly noticed. Jungkook scent marks over the top of your head and Moonbyul pulls Hyejin into a waiting blacked-out car that quickly speeds off.

Jimin watches it too, stoic.

“I think she’s going into heat,” Jimin says, lying effortlessly. Jungkook instantly straightens. Leaning in to sniff at your shoulder.

"Minnie, I don't-"

“Stay with her here while I get the car.” It's in the garage, top floor. Jimin is already moving, gun stowed away. Jungkook’s hands tighten on the top of your arms.

“Wait!” you struggle, Jungkook’s eyes on you, you settle, “alpha I can’t- can’t be separated from you.”

there is no emotion on jimin's face, none at all. “No- too dangerous.”

If you let Jimin go alone, something bad is going to happen. You can feel it in your bones. You slip out of Jungkook’s grasp, hovering in the doorway, cold air billowing around you as Jimin heads off down the sidewalk.

“Stay here Jungkook. I’m serious, don’t move.” whatever jungkook says is swallowed by the door closing behind you. You chase after Jimin. He’s walking briskly, just fast enough that it doesn’t draw suspicion in the crowd. If you had to call his walk something, you'd call it a prowl.

“Go back and stay with Jungkook.”

“It’s crowded there, he’ll be fine.”

“You know other people don’t mean shit. I’ve killed people in more crowded places.” It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, but the same might not be true for us. The unwritten confession, but you can’t be sure.

“No.”

Jimin hovers, a feeling rocking through him, and then he’s tugging you along, shucking his jacket off in one fluid movement. There is a bulge in his baggy sweater, the gun hidden by the excess fabric. you wonder if Jimin favors clothes twice as big because he needs them this way.

You can see the subtle criss cross of the bands under his shirt. The leather jacket is heavy on your shoulders and stiffer, Your fingers flutter across it.

"It’s reinforced with body armor- not enough to stop a bullet at point blank, but a far-off shot-“ he cuts through the crowd of people. It’s after work now, and the streets are thick with window shoppers intending to get an early start on holiday shopping.

Above you the sky hovers, darker, the clouds closing in. Snow starts to fall, fluttering by your eyes sticking to Hobi's black sweatshirt. The first of the year. Your walk to the car is tense and quick, your short legs struggling to keep up as Jimin pulls you along. One Hand itching always ready to yank out the gun from his back pocket. The other circling your wrist.

Your footsteps echo in the near-empty car garage. You almost fall over at the lurch of the elevator. He scans the cars before he jeastures for you that it's safe to come out.

He opens the door of his car for you, the back seat this time. You slide into the warm interior. The seat beneath you is still warm.

You freeze.

Jimin’s body goes ridged. Palm sliding across the leather. Feeling it for himself. You share a glance. Not a muscle in your body moves. You don’t shift a muscle.

“They’d never.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. As far as things he could have anticipated for tonight car bombs are not one of them. But every wicked thing is fair game when it comes to people connected to Yoongi’s family.

Jimin hasn’t had to remind himself that you are one of them for a long long time. You look so scared as he looks down at you. He promises himself right then and there that they’ll pay for this. They’ll pay for making you this scared.

“Can you get out of the car the same way you got in?” Your leg is still balanced on the concrete. You slide your weight across the seat and then sit up as carefully as you can, and the second your ass clears the base Jimin is picking you up and running away from the car. Behind one of the concrete columns, his body blocking you, pinning you there cheek pressed to the cold concrete.

You wait ten seconds, and then twenty. Both of you breathing, watching, waiting.

Nothing happens.

“Jimin maybe we should just-“

Later- you’ll be able to separate what happens from the sensations that assault you. You’ll realize that it wasn’t Jimin’s car that blew up but a sedan a few rows back. You’ll remember that the force of the blast sent the car hurtling up a dozen feet, shattering nearly every window nearby and setting off dozens of car alarms. They must have taken great care to shut off the video cameras in the carepark before they planned the bomb.

For a second all you feel is weightlessness and heat.

The blast knocks you nearly off your feet, hitting you and Jimin from the side. You'd have been thrown if it wasn't for Jimin. You bang hard into the wall an inch away from your face thrown up against it..

You feel the heat and burn fromt he fire- but mostly just Jimin’s body pressed to you until the sound ends. There is ringing in your ears. Jimin pins you where you stand, his body covering all of you, a bit of shrapnel leaves a gash in the concrete above you. Narrowly missing you.

You taste blood, but you’re blinking, the heat from the fire drying out your eyes.

The tinkle of glass falling around you is the first thing you hear beyond the ringing in your ears. Jimin's distraught face inches from yours shaking your shoulders. Just ringing. There is a bit of glass in his hair that shakes loose and falls onto you.

“Are you hurt- are you-” his hands touch everywhere, your chest, your arms, letting out a single heavy breath when he finds no blood, no nothing.

There are alarms are going off, not just the cars but the fire alarms. The fire rages. The car still burns barely a dozen meters from you. you watch as the one next to it starts to burn too.

Far away, someone shouts, far away you can already hear sirens. You touch your chin, there is blood on your fingers.

Your phone fell from your pocket in the blast, and Jimin scoops it up as he heards you into the car, practically throwing you into the back, there is a text message lighting up the screen from a number you don’t recognize. Jimin shouts at you to keep your head down while you look at your phone. backing up the car, tapping the one behind it before he peels off.

Unknown (5:21): I’d never hurt you. I’d never leave you for dead like he did.

Jimin shouts something at you but you can't respond. Speeding out of the car park so quickly that he almost causes an accident as he cuts someone off. Sparks flying as he hits a low part in the concreete.

Unknown (5:21): I didn’t put a bomb in his car, just

Unknown (5:21): Take this as a warning baby <3

You look up, looking back at Jimin, pealing out of the he’s pulling you up. Shouting something you can’t hear over the roaring in your ears. Your hands shake, still holding the bulletproof jacket over your shoulders. Jimin has his gun in one hand and is steering with the other.

Your blood chills as you scroll down your notifications

Jungkook (5:20) (Missed call)

~-~

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Birthday list &lt;;3

idk why the idea of the whole pack showering togethar makes me??? so flustered??? like- fuckkkk don't think of the visuals if you don't want to stare off into space

okay so the rat part might seem esoteric and upsetting BUT i really really need you to remember it, because in a chapter or two the m/c is going to refrence it.

i was also missing jin lots and lots in this chapter because i realize we haven't had a jin focoused chapter in a bit so 🥺

"there is no love without mutually assured distruction" jesus christ this might be my favorite line in this chapter.

i wrote almost all of this chapter tearing through dominic fikes discography in particular the song think fast. idk but theres something about it that is just so !!!! very bily!!!!

i must actually be loosing fat volume in my ass because this is the first day EVER that sitting for +10 plus hours editing bily has hurt my booty 🥺 yes it actually does take me that long to write this.

honestly writing moonbyul in felt like a jumpscare lol

💜💜💜

domestic daydreams:

[at christmas]

pairing: influencer jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship || non-idol au ||

summary: jungkook worries his life online bleeds too much into your relationship, but you can’t be more than happy to show everyone how much he loves you

word count: 2.1k

tags/ warnings: christmas!!!, fluff, kissing (ew), it’s sickening how in love they are, slightly suggestive in the beginning

notes: part of the domestic daydreams au, however can be read as a stand-alone :D is this me just waffling? that’s for you to decide !! it’s made a lot of sense in my head but i can’t tell if this is just words or actually a story

where you can find my other work!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you feel jungkook’s thumb slip past the waistband of your panties, brushing over the delicate skin of your hip as his head slips onto your pillow.

you don’t bother moving, letting him twist your body until your back is pressed to his chest, bodies curled; entangled as he presses a thigh between your legs.

it’s warm. soft cocoon of the duvet wrapped around your body, jungkook’s gentle breathing tickling the back of your neck, goosebumps prickling down your back and up your arms.

it isn’t until he tugs you impossibly closer to his body does the sliver of warm morning light shine onto your eyes through the small crack in the curtains.

you groan a little, pressing your face into the pillow. somewhere in the back of your mind knowing you weren’t getting back to sleep.

you feel jungkook’s lips curl against your skin, “my love” he murmurs now that he knows you’re awake.

you hum, sinking that little bit further into his body.

“we need to get up” he whispers, lips pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, body shifting so he can brush a delicate kiss to your cheek.

his words catch your attention, eye peeking open to look up at him as he tugs you onto your back, arms caged around your head. there’s a lazy, sleepy smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“don’t look at me like that” he bends down, chest pressed against yours, though careful to keep his body weight off you.

“i’m comfortable” you murmur, eyes slipping back shut.

his fingers brush against your cheek, eyes flickering to capture every little detail of your existence as he holds you, accounting for every fibre of his body pressed against yours. how warm your bare skin is, cotton panties veiling a sacred piece of your being, soft against his thigh. how your lashes brush against supple cheeks, pretty pretty pretty. ever so pretty and lovely and the reason for his existence.

“but i have a surprise” his lips brush against your cheek, fingers curling to hold the back of your neck.

“it’s early” you argue.

“it’s almost noon” he laughs, face pressed into the arch of your neck and shoulder.

your eyes squeeze shut, arms slipping around his body “it’s the weekend”

“close. it’s friday”

you sigh, “m’ sleepy”

“my poor baby” he coos, hands slipping down your body until they’re hooked under your arms, tugging you to sit up between his legs.

you press your forehead against his shoulder, “you said surprise”

“i did” he hums, “what about it?”

“what is it?”

his hand runs down the length of your back, ever the tease as this hands slip over your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your boobs.

“that would ruin the surprise” jungkook looks down at you.

“i’d rather it be ruined than sit here anxiously for hours while we get ready” you glance up at him through your lashes.

a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “i should have known you’d say that” he tugs you closer to him by the back of your neck, quick to press a kiss to your lips, “in that case… i was thinking of getting a real tree this year”

i pause for a moment, “huh?”

you pull away from him a little as he opens his mouth, “what about the one in the spare room?” you ask.

he shrugs, “last year you said you wanted a real tree one day”

“one day” you shake your head, “aren’t they expensive?”

“i can afford it now, baby. let me treat you”

you swallow, “but…”

“no buts. the place closes at three and we still need to eat”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you lock the door to the apartment, jungkook having gone ahead to warm up the car for you.

you slip into the passenger seat, eyes instantly catching onto the empty phone holder on the front ledge of the car.

“are you not filming?” you turn to him, eyebrows pinched.

“no?” he shakes his head, eyes wide, “this is time for us, i don’t want to ruin it because i’m filming”

you blink over at him, “oh”

he tilts his head in the way jungkook does, eyes veiled with curiosity.

“why, do you want me to?”

you shake your head, “i just thought it would be something your viewers would like”

his eyes soften, hand slipping across the console, fingers dipping into the meat of your thigh.

“i get so scared” he admits, watching now as you’re the one with the curious filled eyes.

“why?” you shake your head.

“because i don’t want every single moment we spend together looked over simply because i’m filming. i don’t want you to think i don’t care, that im not thinking of the time we spend together because i have my phone filming it all”

a hint of a smile curls onto your lips.

“you’re surprisingly good at multitasking” you tell him, “when we first started dating…” you say, and he nods, “i really did worry you weren’t experiencing everything with me”

“i never—“ he shakes his head.

“baby, i know” you placate his worries, “you gush about how much you love what we do every night” your hand slips over his still on your thigh, “and when i go back and watch the videos you post, you never take notice of the camera, you look at me too much”

“that’s because you’re so pretty” his fingers tighten between your own.

“people talk about it in the comments” you lean your head against the headrest.

“you read the comments?” he whines, pout tempting to tug at his bottom lip. because he’d told you time and time again not to— too scared you’d stumble across something mean and he couldn’t bare the idea of someone shit talking you.

your eyebrows narrow in obvious intent, “obviously. i’m nosy and i want to know what people are saying about you… i just so happen to stumble across comments about me too”

“and you’re not uncomfortable?” he worries, trying to scoot that little bit closer to you from his seat.

you shake your head, “no”

“promise?”

a quirk of a smile threatens the corners of your lips, “if anything i like it…” you start, watching the tension in his shoulders loosen, “reading about how much everyone knows you love me”

a huff of a laugh bubbles up jungkook’s throat, “ah so that’s it?”

there’s a hint of amusement in his tone, though he can’t blame you. not when he sees comments of jealous men rattling about videos of him with you. not when he sees the same, so many comments about how you look at him like he held the world in the palm of his hands, how it looks like he’d plucked a million stars, putting them in a jar for you to admire.

“makes me feel nice” you admit.

his fingers slip from between your own, fumbling around the pockets of his coat as he pulls out his phone. he slots it onto the little phone holder, swiping to the camera.

“i won’t film all day, just little clips i can edit together. then everyone can see what we did, yeah? i want today to be special, and i know you don’t mind… but for the sake of my own sanity” he tells you, leaning over the console. his hand falls to the back of your neck, tugging you forward, closing the distance between the both of you.

the kiss is soft, the type that means ‘i love you’ without having to really say it. the type of kiss that has your heart fluttering all funny in your chest behind the restraint of your rib cage. where your cheeks go all warm and your insides feel all gooey and nice, where 2 stars align perfectly in that moment and you feel utterly complete like this is where you’re meant to be.

your fingers itch to hold onto jungkook as he pulls away, warm breath fanning over spit soaked lips he he stays there for a moment.

“we’ll be late” you remind him, eyes flickering to the clock.

he hums, not before leaving over and pressing another delicate kiss to your cheek.

he’s quick with introducing what the both of you are doing once he presses the start of the video, hand still gentle over your thigh as he glances over at you every now and then. because even with the sight of your face through the video on his phone, it would be a wasted opportunity to not look at you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

you tug at the sleeve of jungkook’s jacket as you cross the road to the tree farm.

“hmm?” he looks down at you, eyebrows raised in question.

you point to a parking lot, shops lining the length of the road.

“can we go in there?” you look up at him, eyes wide with wonder, the sort of look that has jungkook’s resolve melting into a puddle and seeping from every pore of his body until he’s giving in.

he taps on the screen of his phone, before looking back at you.

“if we’re quick” he murmurs, tucking your connected hands in his pocket to keep them warm.

you beam up at him, tugging him across the road to one of the home stores, christmas decorations lining the windows.

“take a video of this for your followers” you tell him, pointing to a a little candy cane, utter joy dancing across your face when you press on his hand and it starts dancing.

you bounce on your feet as jungkook pulls his phone out, barely paying attention to what he was filming, not when his eyes were on you, so much joy radiating from a fragile human body. some days he wonders if the videos are more for yourself than who follows him.

a collection of moments you want to keep forever posted on his social media for you to watch whenever you please. though he doesn’t mind, not when he can go back, and watch the small glimpses of joy when he pans the camera over to you, your happiness locked in that moment of time forever.

he’s not sure how you ended up with three new sets of baubles, or why you suddenly decided you wanted an angel instead of a star on top of the tree, but that doesn’t stop him from slinking back to the front of the store to grab a basket for you. or him following you around every isle as your hands skim over everything that looked soft, or your bright eyes when you’d show him all the things you liked the look of.

“if we’re getting a real tree this year, should we put the fake one in our room instead?” you ask him, crouched down on the floor as you look through all the reefs.

“what about the small light up one we have?”

you hum, “you can use it in your background for your streams…?” you suggest, “do you need lights too? you can use the ones in our bedroom if you need to”

“sure” he chirps.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“it’s big” you stand there with your hands on your hips, “it looked smaller at the shop”

the both of you stand there looking down at the tree.

“what if it touches the ceiling” he murmurs, wondering if he’d made a mistake or not.

the camera had been rolling for over ten minutes as the both of you stand there, wondering how you were going to tackle the tree.

“it should be okay” you peer up at the ceiling, head tilting a little, “maybe we won’t need the angel then”

“but she’s so pretty” he turns to you, “right, let’s do this then”

you watch him struggle a little lifting it, eyes flitting to the little pine needles falling onto the carpet.

“just enough space for the angel, good choice baby” he grins at you.

you stand there looking at the tree, “it’s so prefect, thank you” you whisper, arm linking with his, “this is literally the best christmas ever”

“we haven’t even decorated it yet” he laughs, arms slipping over your shoulders.

“still” you tell him, “it’s more than i could ever ask for”

“merry christmas, jungkook” you look up at him, that warm fluffy sort of love blanketing your soul.

“merry christmas” he murmurs, head tilting down.

there’s nothing rushed about the kiss. time, the outside world, everything beyond the both of you stopping within your apartment as you share the raw intimacy of pure love with only the camera as your witness. another precious little moment captured and held forever, one that will never make the cut of the video. something for jungkook to hold onto forever, a secret for him.

💜💜💜

Of Storms And Vampires // Ch. 1

Pairings: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader x Vampire!Jungkook

Summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn't simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook's sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

Genre: fluff, angst

Word Count: 9.1k+

The wind howled outside with the voice of a thousand lost souls. You had read somewhere that the breeze and the sounds of the night were the dead singing. If that were true, tonight they were screaming. 

The storm had hit in the afternoon in full force, getting only worse since then. In seconds, the first few droplets turned into arrows of water falling from the heavens. Dark clouds overtook the sky, wiping out the sun and bringing the night early. Lightning struck every few minutes followed by loud thunder that sounded too close for comfort. You had sensed the storm brewing a few days ago but only yesterday you had realized how strong it was going to be. It was like all the rage of the Gods had been released at once.

The rain splattered on the windowpane relentlessly, a constant murmuring in the background interrupted only by the thunder. You could cast a silencing spell but you needed to be aware of what was happening outside and the sounds were comforting in a way. It was the music of lonely nights and disasters. 

You were curled up in the overstuffed armchair next to the fireplace, a book on kitchen magic leaning on your thighs. The fire flickered and danced, flaming tendrils reaching for above. It was a calm night for you, almost peaceful. You had been casting protections against the storm on your house, your garden, and the small farmhouse of your animals for days. There was nothing to worry about, you were more than safe. But your mind kept going to the town. It was the worst storm this part of the world had seen in decades.

You flipped the page to the recipe for an antipyretic potion and breathed in the smoky scent of burning firewood. Your eyes scanned over the ingredients of the potion and you considered how it could be improved to better fit your magic, without losing its essence. It was hard changing existing recipes and spells but when done right, it could be very rewarding. 

You sensed the presence before you heard the thud. It was small and weak, pulsing in flashes. Something had hit your window but you had only seen a black blur before it disappeared. You closed the book and lowered your feet from the couch, listening for any more noises. None followed. The rain continued like before. 

The aura of something—someone—, that hadn't been there before persisted. You had to see what it was, maybe it was an injured animal that needed your help. The forest would lead them to you sometimes, both animals and humans in need. 

You wrapped your black cloak around yourself and raised the hood. It was woven with enchanted thread for protection and stitched with intentions of blending in with your surroundings. The protection applied to the weather as well, it wouldn't completely spare you from the heavy rain but it would be more like going out during a mild rainfall instead of getting drenched within seconds. 

Outside, the world was dark and ominous. Trees lurched and bent under the force of the wind, its strength was enough to uproot some smaller and more frail ones. The rain bounced off your cloak and thunder boomed overhead. You shielded your lantern underneath your cloak and, with your boots sinking into the wet earth, moved carefully toward where you had heard the sound. At first, you didn't see it in the darkness but when your eyes adjusted, you noticed the outline of the crumbled figure underneath the window. 

The creature was small and it was shivering, probably both by the cold and the fear of the storm. You approached slowly, trying to seem non-threatening. It was a small bat, one of its wings bent at a weird angle and the other hiding its face. 

"Hello, little guy," you said, sending some of your energy to the bat to soothe it. The wind swept your voice away but you still tried. "I'm going to have to pick you up and take you inside. You can't stay out here in the storm." 

With a short incantation, you enchanted the lantern to float in place and slid one hand underneath the bat's small form, covering it gently with your other hand. It struggled a little but settled soon. By touch, you understood two things. It wasn't a normal bat but, in your hands, you were holding a vampire. And it was a very young one. 

"I'm going to take care of you," you promised, cradling the vampire close to your chest. "You don't have to be afraid." 

You rushed back inside, careful not to jostle him. You unclasped your coat, took off your boots at the entrance, and carried the baby vampire into the living room, sitting down on the armchair near the fire. His small body was trembling and the fire would calm the cold leeching on his bones. You laid him on your thighs to take a quick look at his injuries. There were a couple you could see at first glance, one of his wings was broken and there was a shallow gash on his belly. 

You touched his forehead with two fingers and transferred some more of your energy to him. The vampire flinched but when he felt life seeping into his veins, his eyes—which were larger than any other bat you had seen—widened, looking at you in wonder.

“Stay here,” you advised, laying him on the armchair as you got up. “I’ll be back with a few things to treat your injuries. Don’t move too much.”

You kept most of your potions and salves in the kitchen, they were in jars and tins of various sizes stored in your cabinets. Various herbs tied together with thick strings were hanging from the ceiling and potted plants lined the windowsills. The counters were cluttered with multiple ingredients for potions and spells, from the most common ones like dried daisies, mint, and sea glass to some rare—or mostly avoided—ones like bleeding nightshade, dragon hair, and heart crystals.

You opened the cabinet that contained most of your medicinal potions and a few salves. You skimmed over the labels, reciting their properties in your head and contemplating which ones would be better suited for a vampire. In the end, you grabbed a vial of dark green liquid and a small bottle, the inside of which was reflective like a mirror. The first one was to fight off the effects of the cold, it wasn’t easy for vampires to get sick but the vampire was young and he had probably spent too much time in the storm. The second one was to ease the pain and speed up healing and its effects could last for as long as twelve hours. Before returning to the living room, you grabbed a platinum tin containing a salve that would accelerate the process of the skin stitching together.

The baby vampire had obediently stayed where you had left him, his eyes were half-closed and he was still shaking. There was a small pang in your heart for him. Baby vampires weren’t supposed to be alone for more than a few hours, they needed the presence of their sire like humans needed air. But here he was, alone in the forest with a witch and his sire nowhere in sight.

“I’m back,” you said softly. The vampire opened his eyes a little and turned his head in your direction. His eyes were so bright, much brighter than any vampire you had ever met. “I need to take care of your injuries now. You need to drink these, they are going to help you heal.” 

The vampire eyed the potions but, surprisingly, he didn’t put up a fight, opening his mouth. 

“Good boy,” you said and if the vampire was in his human form, you were sure he would be blushing. As much as vampires could blush. You poured the green potion in his mouth first and when he swallowed, he made a face of disgust. “I know it doesn’t taste great but it’s one of the best potions for this.” He tilted his head and to distract him, you started explaining to him what the properties of each potion were.

You applied the salve on his wound with careful fingers, he whimpered but didn’t snap at you like you had expected. He was pretty docile for a young vampire, who could get violent away from their sire’s protection. Then, you made a small cast out of some cloth for his wing.

“By tomorrow night, you will be able to shift back. We can see how much your arm has been affected then. But I believe you will make a quick recovery,” you said and the bat let out a chirp. “Please, in the future, avoid going out before or during storms. Your bat form isn’t strong enough to withstand this kind of weather. You’re very lucky you hit my window.” He made a squeaking sound and lowered his head at your admonishment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Some of the most sensitive ingredients were kept in the refrigerator that was powered by magic. One of those ingredients, stored in a large jar, was human blood. It was one of the ingredients that was frowned upon but was necessary for your type of magic and a very powerful asset. You poured a good amount into a bowl and put the rest back in the fridge.

The scent of blood made the vampire’s head shoot up as soon as you walked into the living room. “Stay there, I’m bringing it to you.” The vampire made a few more chirping noises as you carried the bowl and set it in front of him. He looked at you and when you nodded, he dived head-first into the blood. “It isn’t fresh but it will have to do. I know that baby vampires need blood.”

He gulped down the blood hungrily and when the bowl was licked clean, he looked at you with his large eyes. 

“That’s enough for now. I’ll give you more later,” you said, picking up the bowl. “Now, rest.”

Vampires stayed in nests with their sires while they were still young, so you tried to make a mock nest for the small bat. On the floor by the fireplace, you bunched up a fluffy blanket, placed two pillows on top, and laid the vampire inside. You thought you heard him sigh as he settled, making himself comfortable. After the events of the day and the two potions, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. 

Near this side of the forest, there was only one small town from where he could have got lost. You tried to remember if there were any vampires that lived in the town but came up blank. You didn’t visit the town often and your interactions with its inhabitants were rare. Whatever you learned about them, you learned from Seokjin, who took it up to himself to fill you in on all the gossip he could remember. And he had a very strong memory. 

You stayed in the living room for a while longer, picking up the magic book where you left off and throwing glances at the bat every few pages. He was sleeping soundlessly, shifting only when thunder struck somewhere nearby. Soon, you closed the book again and after adjusting the blanket around the vampire’s small form, you retired to your room for the night.

The next morning, you woke up to the sounds of the storm raging outside. The wind whipped the roof and the walls and the rain falling was enough to fill up a river. Outside the window of your bedroom, the world was being suffocated in gray. The sun had disappeared, hidden behind the endless expanse of dark clouds. The storm would last through the day and hopefully calm during the night. However, the signs showed that it wouldn’t be gone soon.

You dressed for the day and braided your hair to keep it out of your face. There were things you had to do, despite the storm outside. Most importantly, there was a baby vampire that needed your attention in the living room.

Said vampire was awake and lazying around in his makeshift nest. He blinked slowly at you before letting out a couple of chirps, shaking his not-injured wing in what you guessed was the bat equivalent to waving at you. You had to admit that he was adorable as he greeted you enthusiastically.

“Good morning. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” you asked and the bat nodded his head. He gestured to his belly with his wing and you were glad to see that the skin was already stitching itself together. “This looks good, you are healing quickly. By nightfall, it will only be a small scar and that will go away soon too. But you will still need to be careful, don’t go flying into a storm again.” He squeaked lowly and lowered his head, making you giggle. “Now, let me take a look at your wing.”

His wing was also healing nicely and, as you had predicted, he would be able to turn back into his human form, if he wanted to, by the end of the day. It would make communication much easier although you weren’t sure if you would prefer that over the cute bat. You had found over the years living alone in your cottage in the forest that you were better at interacting with animals than with people. 

You let go of his wing and the vampire squeaked and pointed to his belly and then his mouth.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some blood?” you asked and he responded by pleased chirping. “Okay, I’ll bring some to you since you have been a good patient.”

You poured some blood for him in the same bowl as yesterday. The jar of human blood was enough to get you through more than a year of potions and spells but it could barely last for two days as the main food source of a vampire, especially a young one that needed feeding regularly. You hoped the storm would ease by tomorrow and you would be able to look for his sire. You would have to be on guard because sires were overprotective of their fledglings and if they believed you had been keeping them apart for no reason, it could get ugly.

You placed the bowl in front of the vampire, who chirped in thanks and started drinking messily. Blood stained the fur around his mouth and he looked almost angry at how good the blood tasted. For now, your priority was to take care of him, you would have to worry about his sire later. 

While the vampire was drinking his blood, you bustled around the kitchen. You made a quick and simple breakfast for yourself, a cup of tea with ginseng for energy and bread with homemade strawberry jam. Like every morning, you lit up a fire in the hearth and filled your cauldron with water and a crystalline blue powder you had made for cleansing. Something was always brewing in a witch’s cauldron.

You were going to make a specialized potion for the little vampire to enhance his healing abilities. The effects of the one you had given him last night would have worn off and personalized potions were more effective. Opening and closing cupboards and drawers, you gathered a few of the ingredients you would use, consulting a recipe from a magic book focused on magical creatures. 

After a few minutes, the cauldron was clean and ready for work. You measured the first few ingredients and put them in. They needed to boil a couple of hours on their own before you added a pinch of dried rosemary and red oyster mushrooms. Brewing potions was like performing a ritual, it wasn’t only about the ingredients and the quantities, it was about the timing, the intentions, and each action itself. You had to sense what the potion needed and how it needed it done. Some potions could take days to make and the more difficult ones could be ruined by a single wrong move or even a bad thought. It was a delicate process but you enjoyed it. 

The rain persisted but you had to go outside to feed the animals and make sure that their protections were holding up. The storm must have scared them and your presence would calm them.

The vampire had closed his eyes again, the bowl in front of him empty. He opened one eye to look at you and as you picked up the bowl to return it to the kitchen, he bumped his head against your hand.

“Do you like petting?” you asked, stroking between his ears. He closed his eyes and wiggled happily at the attention. “You do, don’t you? You are really cute, such a cute bat.” He preened at the praise and you cooed. “I’ll go outside for a bit but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

The vampire chirped in answer although he didn’t seem happy to be deprived of petting. You threw on your cloak to protect yourself from the wild weather outside and made your way to the small farmhouse. 

It was only a few meters away from the house, through a cobblestone path that at least saved your boots from sinking in the mud. The farmhouse had been there when Seokjin had first led you to this place but it had been in a much worse condition than the house. The roof had crumpled in and the walls would have followed soon, leaving nothing but a heap of decayed wood. The renovations lasted a couple of months, accomplished mostly by you, Seokjin, Jimin, and a few people from the town that Seokjin had called when he realized there were a few things that, magic or not, you simply couldn’t do.

The ground of the farmhouse was dry, evidence that your protection spells were still holding strong. The familiar sounds of the animals greeted you, the bleating and the clucking, the hooves against the ground, and the flapping of wings. There were ten chickens, six goats, and Daisy, your horse, who had got her name from her fondness of eating daisies. They all had their own fenced areas with enough space to roam and stretch their limbs—the fence of the chicken coop almost reached the ceiling because your chickens could somehow fly much higher than normal chickens could.

You visited all of the animals, petting them and replenishing their food. None of them liked the thunder and the wind howling but, luckily, they understood they were safe inside. They surrounded you and you spoke softly to them. You weren’t an animal witch but you were good with them. You had learned quickly and you had been surprised to find that animals enjoyed your company.

Last, you went to Daisy. You stroked her neck, fed her apples, and promised to take her on a long walk to the fields at the end of the forest and let her gallop for as long as she liked. Forests weren’t the most suitable places for horses but Daisy seemed to like it well enough as long as you took her to the fields from time to time.

Returning to the house, you found the vampire squirming and agitated. Apparently, he didn’t like staying still for such a long time, so you carried him with you to the kitchen. His eyes followed you while you worked on the potion so you started explaining to him what you were doing. You weren’t sure how much he understood or how much he knew about witchcraft but he was an attentive audience. He made sounds whenever you said something interesting and he stopped hopping around the counter whenever you told him to.

For lunch, you heated up some leftover tomato soup from the previous day and you fed the bat a plum. Once upon a time, there was a vampire you had been close with, or you had been getting there, and he had told you that plums were his favorite food to eat when he was in bat form. The little one on your table must be the same because he devoured it. 

He kept you company for the rest of the day and at some point he somehow ended up clinging on your shoulder and refused to budge. He didn’t weigh much so you didn’t mind and you guessed he was missing his sire and needed some contact to stay grounded.

In the afternoon, the potion was ready. First, you poured the potion into the bat’s mouth like you had done the previous night and then filled his bowl with blood. Your work in the kitchen was done and you returned to the living room, settling in the armchair. The vampire curled up in your lap and you petted his head while you flipped through a random book from your stack on the floor. You had run out of space so your books were everywhere now. You should hire someone to make more shelves for you.

The vampire was getting drowsy so you left him in the armchair and you went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for yourself. It was part of your routine to have a cup of tea along with some baked goods in the afternoon. Living away from civilization, you had discovered the comfort of mundane moments and the importance of a nice routine. 

You boiled water and looked through your jars of tea. They were your own varieties, you had mixed their ingredients with light enchantments to boost their benefits. Black tea was one of your favorites to drink in the afternoon so you chose one with maple and vanilla pieces, hazelnuts, nutmeg and honeybush. It was fitting for the weather. The sweet honey fragrance mingled with vanilla tickled your nose when you opened the jar. You filled the teapot with the hot water and added two tablespoons of tea to the infuser. 

In the 4 minutes the tea required to brew, you cut a piece of the apple pie you had made yesterday and plated it. The aroma of the soft, spiced apples and the brown sugar drifted in the kitchen. A tiny bit of magic kept anything you baked as fresh as the day they were pulled out of the oven. Another thing you discovered while living in the forest was your love for baking. When you lived in the city, you had dabbled in baking, occasionally baking chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon rolls, but it wasn’t until you moved here that you truly fell in love with it. 

You arranged everything in a tray, along with a smaller cup in case the vampire wanted to try, but you stopped short at the door to the living room. The tray almost slipped from your hands at the sight of a young man sitting where the little bat used to be. He looked young, with large eyes and messy dark hair that reached past his ears. A silver ring glinted on his bottom lip and more silver earrings adorned both of his ears. He was wearing all black and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo underneath the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Hi,” he said, sheepishly waving at you. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to.”

You had to get yourself together, you had known since the beginning that it wasn’t a regular bat you were treating but a vampire that would need to turn back into his other form at some point. You had expected it, it was obvious that it would happen at some point. You shouldn’t be surprised. But you hadn’t expected him to look… like that.

“You didn’t scare me, I was just surprised,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to see you in this form.”

He fidgeted with his sleeves, making himself smaller. “Did you like my other form better? I can change back. It just makes me feel a little weird when I’m a bat for too long. But I can change back, I can.”

“No, no,” you rushed to say. “I don’t mind really. This form is nice as well.” 

Mentally, you slapped yourself, you couldn’t be more awkward if you tried. At least, the vampire looked pleased at that, a small smile making its way to his face. It was unfair that he was cute even in his human form. 

You approached and put the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s good that you are back in this form. Now, we can finally meet. What is your name?”

“Jungkook,” the vampire replied shyly and you offered your own name. “I wanted to say thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t taken me in. I’m not sure if I would have made it.” His smile tightened and you shuddered just thinking about it. “I’m really thankful for everything. If there is any way for me to repay you, I will do anything.”

“There is no need for that. I wanted to help you and it was the right thing to do. Just promise me you will be careful in the future. Your bat form is small and you saw how dangerous storms can be for you.”

Jungkook nodded, abashed. “I won’t, I promise. I thought I had some time before it hit and I wanted to explore the forest. I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry to me, it’s you who was flung from tree to tree last night.” He chuckled a little at that. “Do you want some tea? It’s black with maple and vanilla.”

“Yes, please,” he said politely.

You picked up the black ceramic teapot and paused. “I brought a cup for you because I thought you would be in your bat form. Would you like a mug?”

“No, no, the cup is fine,” Jungkook insisted.

You poured some into the cup first and then into your mug. The cup was from the same set as the teapot, black and with the same engravings of flowers and vines. Your mug was a gift from Seokjin during his pottery phase, like many of his obsessions you weren’t sure how or why it started. It was weird cups at first that looked like melting pieces of clay but he got pretty good by the end. Before he moved on to his next obsession, he was able to make things like your mug, which was shaped like a cauldron and he and Jimin had painted it to look like the night sky.

Jungkook hugged his cup in his hands, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in the sweet aroma of tea and closed his eyes in delight. 

“Do you want some honey or sugar?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch. “I usually drink my own without and I didn’t think to bring any.”

“No, it’s okay.” He took the first sip and you could tell that it wasn’t okay. He frowned, but not in the way you had seen when he was drinking blood, and pursed his lips. He didn’t say anything but it was clear he was trying to pretend that it wasn’t too bitter for him.

You chuckled and set your mug down. “I’ll bring some honey for you.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook said, wincing subtly.

You got the jar of honey from the kitchen and added two teaspoons to his tea. That way, he liked it enough that he asked for a refill. While you drank your tea together, he explained to you that he was in town for a few days visiting some friends with his sire. He had spent all of his life in the city and the small town and the forest fascinated him. He knew that there was a storm coming but he hadn’t realized the extent of it. He had been planning to go for a quick flight to stretch his wings before it hit, he hadn’t got to explore the forest yet and he was curious. Unfortunately, the storm hit early and the wind had dragged him deeper into the darkness.

“I thought I wouldn’t make it out,” he admitted quietly, holding his cup close to his chest. “It was so strong and so loud and I couldn’t fight it. I’m not very strong in my bat form, I’m still young and I don’t have much practice. I couldn’t hold on to anything and I couldn’t find shelter. I was thinking about my sire and how sad he would be. He must be very worried.”

The bond between sires and their fledglings was very strong and for the first months after the turning, some sires wouldn’t even let their fledgling out of their sight. For years, the sires would take care of the younger vampires, help them adjust, and teach them everything about their new life. It wasn’t commonly understood but sires needed their fledglings as much as their fledglings needed them. You had read that there was a part of them, an echo of their own blood from the turning in their fledgling’s bloodstream, that called for them to be by their side.

“The storm is messing up with any means of magical communication but as soon as it calms a little, I can send a message to town,” you offered. “We can let him know you’re safe here until the worst passes and you can safely return to town. The townspeople know me, it will be alright.”

“Thank you.” You had lost count of how many times he had thanked you since he had changed forms. 

You finished your tea and roped him into a game of cards to distract him from the thoughts of his sire. He got engrossed into the game quickly and he won two out of the three rounds you played. He had a competitive streak and he learned quickly the rules of every game you taught him. 

It had been a few months since you had played cards with someone. Jimin had been the one to teach you and you had only ever played with him and Seokjin. It was fun to share this with someone else, even when he pouted when he lost. You didn’t care about winning very much so you didn’t mind and his excitement when he won was heart-warming to watch.

He jumped when loud thunder cracked through the night and you told him that he didn’t have to worry. You had applied strong protections on the house and the garden. And the forest protected you too. The storm was interfering with its magic but nothing could change its core and nothing could turn it on you. Turning on you would be like turning on itself and the forest was too wise for that.

You played games until well into the night. Jungkook’s eyes were growing heavy and his mouth stretched in small yawns. It was time to go to sleep. Jungkook curled up on the couch and you carried two knitted blankets to the living room and wrapped them around him. His cheeks grew rosy and he giggled at being tucked into bed like a child. 

You left the fire burning in the hearth to keep him warm in the night.

“Goodnight, Jungkook. Have sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” he said, muffled by the blankets. “Sweet dreams.”

There was a change in the air like the turning of the tides. Your limbs were lighter and something different was lingering on your skin. You padded to the window and drew the curtains to the side. The sky was cloudy but it was no longer the suffocating darkness of the day before. The trees swayed and the rain persisted but it wasn’t attempting to drown the earth anymore. The storm was breaking.

You threw on one of your long black skirts and a brown sweatshirt and climbed down the stairs to the living room. Jungkook was sitting up on the couch and already looking in your direction when you walked inside. Supernatural hearing, you forgot about it sometimes. 

"Good morning,” you greeted him. “The storm is slowly calming down. I will probably be able to send a message to the town and by tomorrow, it will be safe for you to return.”

“Thank you so much,” Jungkook said. He was fidgeting with his sleeves again but his smile was unmistakable. “I hope my sire will forgive me for being so careless.”

“I’m sure he will. For now, breakfast blood?”

Jungkook’s smile widened as he eagerly agreed. You couldn’t offer him the amount of blood he was used to, you had to ration it to make sure that it would last. It would be very difficult to get human blood once your supply was gone. 

You hadn’t reached the kitchen yet when you sensed someone pass through your wards. The presence was familiar, the knowledge sitting in a hidden pocket in your brain and you couldn’t touch it. Jungkook hurried to the window, the path leading up to the door could be seen from there. He let out a small yelp before bolting to the door and throwing it open.

“Yoongi!” he shouted the name that had circled your mind for years. The presence was in your house and the name fit like a glove. Against your better judgment, you walked towards them to see for yourself. It could be someone else, couldn’t it? You just had to take a look.

He was clinging to Jungkook, hugging him so tightly it looked painful. Half of his face was hidden against the fledgling’s shoulder but it was unmistakably him. The memories were as clear as when you made them, they resurfaced stronger than any of your nightly musings bordering on regrets. His hair was longer than you remembered, reaching past his nape, his cat eyes were clenched shut and his skin was white porcelain. He was also drenched to the bone.

“I looked for you,” he said and his voice awoke more memories. “I looked for you everywhere I could– But the storm was too strong. We were locked inside for so long. They wouldn’t let me out. Don’t ever do that to me again, do you hear me? Don’t ever disappear on me like that. I was going out of my mind.”

“Never, I promise.” Jungkook was hugging him just as tight and although he was bigger in stature, he made himself smaller in the older vampire’s arms. “I’m alright. I was safe here. The wind carried me here and I was well taken care of. I should introduce you,” he said with excitement, pulling back a little.

Yoongi opened his eyes, their dark color made your heart beat faster. He looked at you behind Jungkook and when your eyes connected you could see the myriad of emotions passing through them. First, there was surprise, then disbelief and confusion and all the minor ones in-between. You had disappeared from one day to another, leaving no trace behind and no trail to follow. He must have believed he would never see you again.

Oblivious to the change in the atmosphere, Jungkook introduced you to each other, telling his sire how well you took care of him and that you kept him warm and well-fed and healed his injuries. You couldn’t read Yoongi, there must have been a point in your history that you had been able to but that was lost now. 

There was silence after the introductions were over. Jungkook’s eyes jumped between the two of you. “Did I say something?”

“No, no, we just– We knew each other. In another life,” you said. Before you had enough of the wary glances and offending questions and fled the city. Before the manifestation of everything you had been afraid of. 

Yoongi’s lips parted and he looked away. “We did. In another life,” he repeated bitterly. 

“Oh.” Jungkook stood awkwardly between the two of you, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

Thunder boomed outside and you rushed to close the door that they had forgotten half-open during their reunion. That served to remind you about the very important fact that Yoongi was wet enough to have taken a long dive in the lake.

“I’ll bring some towels, you’re dripping,” you said and climbed upstairs. 

It was an escape but a necessary one. It gave you some time to think. Jungkook’s sire was Yoongi. Yoongi, who you had known for years when you lived in the city, who you had tried to forget for years while you lived in this cottage but gave in once you realized it was impossible. He starred in most of your favorite memories from the city. And that’s exactly what he was supposed to be. A memory.

What was he doing in your forest? You had run so far away from the city that no one from your past would be able to find you. Except one. You had one link left to your old life, Seokjin. Seokjin was the one who had shown you this cottage hidden in the forest that spilled into his hometown. When the incident had happened and you were desperate for an escape, he had been your savior and he had swore not to tell anyone about your whereabouts. Seokjin was also Yoongi’s friend.

The dots were connecting. Seokjin and Jimin were the friends Yoongi and Jungkook were visiting. 

You grabbed two forest green towels and paused in the hallway. Seokjin hadn’t told you. The few times you had seen him in the past weeks, he hadn't mentioned anything about Yoongi. A twinge of hurt scraped at your heart. He should have told you. If he knew Yoongi would be visiting, why wouldn’t he tell you? He knew who Yoongi used to be to you. Had he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it? No one was supposed to know you were here but that was all over now.

You took a deep breath and returned downstairs. Yoongi was where you had left him, a small puddle of rainwater pooled at his feet. Jungkook’s clothes were also a little wet from their embrace but it was nothing compared to his sire.

“Here,” you said, handing him the towels.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for your floor.”

“The floor can be cleaned. You will catch your death like this.”

He rubbed his hair with the towel. “I’m already dead.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t work on me. I know vampires are not as indestructible as you would like to think. I have a spell to get all the water out of your clothes but I haven’t tried it on clothes that are currently being worn.”

Yoongi looked down at his drenched clothes. “It’s not that bad.”

“You are making a small lake on the floor,” you pointed out. “You didn’t even take an umbrella with you?”

“It was no use against the wind.” 

The wind wasn’t so bad now but you guessed it must have been worse when he set out to find Jungkook. He could have been looking for hours before he stumbled upon your house. Usually, the forest helped along the ones who looked for you but the storm was messing with its energy.

Yoongi gave you permission to use the drying spell on his clothes, his face scrunching up when the water was removed. You didn’t use it often because it left the clothes stiff and weird to the touch for some time. They turned too dry but in the present situation, you didn’t have many options. 

Jungkook was still looking between the two of you in confusion as he held on to Yoongi’s arm, although witnessing the spell had put a smile on his face.

“Now that you’re dry, let’s move to the living room,” you said. “I’ll get the fire going and make some tea. None of you are going out in the rain.”

Yoongi studied you and you felt naked under his eyes. He was the only person from your past, other than Seokjin, that you had seen since you fled. He knew a version of you that no longer existed and you hadn’t been prepared for that. In the end, you should have known. The past always comes knocking regardless of how long and how far you run from it. 

Yoongi didn’t pretend to turn you down to be polite but silently followed you to the living room. Jungkook pointed to the armchair by the fire that he had claimed for himself and gushed about how comfortable and soft it was. However, he didn’t sit there in favor of staying close to Yoongi on the couch. It was clear he had missed his sire and he needed to be as close to him as possible.

You picked up a few logs of wood from the metal box near the fireplace and stacked them inside. You added two layers of kindling and reached for the matches.

“How do you know each other?” Jungkook asked, breaking the fragile silence. 

Yoongi looked at you, staying quiet. He was going to let you share as much as you wanted. You were surprised that he wasn’t asking more questions himself. Maybe he hadn’t cared as much as Seokjin had told you. Maybe it was the shock.

“I used to live in the city,” you started. “I went to the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery and we met on campus. Yoongi was visiting a friend of his.”

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asked and Yoongi nodded. 

Namjoon was another person who you hadn’t seen in years. He was a powerful witch but he had chosen the academic route and didn’t practice magic much. You hadn’t been very close but you could have got there. You enjoyed his company and you could talk for hours. You would see him in the library and around campus and you had coffee together a few times and talked about magic theory and how energy flowed through living things. Seokjin was your only link to him as well and you had learned from him that he was still teaching at the University and he had been promoted from assistant professor to professor. When the news reached them, Seokjin and Jimin had traveled to the city to celebrate with him.

“We haven’t spoken since she left the city,” Yoongi said it simply like you had decided to leave one day instead of fleeing in the night, taking the last train to a town in the middle of nowhere. That had been five years ago.

You lit up a match, the action familiar and comforting, and threw it between the logs. The fire spread slowly, enveloping the wood. You stroked the flames with the poker, pushing and pulling the logs until the fire was burning strong.

You got up and wiped your hands on the soot-stained towel that hung from the same hook as the poker. “I’ll make some tea to fend off the cold.”

In the kitchen, you put on your apron with the embroidered mushrooms and marigolds, taking a moment to pull yourself together. It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The ghosts of your past never disappeared but they hadn’t been more than ghosts until now. 

You focused on the task at hand, setting the water to boil and opening the cabinet that housed your tea jars. Echinacea and elderberry tea with dried angel lotus leaves was the most effective for preventing colds and boosting the immune system. Its taste was also nice and soothing. 

You were putting spoonfuls of the tea blend into the strainer when Yoongi walked inside. His footsteps were soundless and you felt his presence before you saw him. Vampires’ energies were different than most creatures. They weren’t alive, not exactly, and energies were tied to a creature’s life force. Therefore, for vampires, their energies were unique and as a witch who could feel life and death very acutely, you could detect them easily.

“Have you been here all this time?” he asked after a few moments of silence. 

The sounds of boiling water caught your attention, steam was coming out of the kettle’s spout. You removed the kettle from over the fire and poured the water into the teapot. 

“I have,” you replied. There was nothing else to say, any explanations you could offer were useless. 

“That’s it? That’s all after all these years?” Yoongi asked. 

You couldn’t look at him, fiddling with herbs there was nothing to do with and glancing at the large clock on the wall for the brewing time. “I don’t know what else to say. You know why I had to leave. I couldn’t stay after what happened.”

“And you chose to disappear without a word?” When you didn’t answer, he continued. “I was sure that Seokjin knew where you were but he swore he didn’t. He said you disappeared without telling him anything and that he hadn’t heard from you since. Regardless of how many times I asked, it was always the same answer.”

“I asked him to say that to anyone who asked,” you admitted. “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi shake his head slowly in disbelief. “Why? Why didn’t you want me to know?” 

It hurt to keep quiet but there was no way to make this better. You couldn’t tell him that you had been afraid although a part of you knew Yoongi wouldn’t judge you, like Seokjin wouldn’t judge you. But your fear had been too big and all-consuming, fear of what he would think and also fear of what you could do. Your magic had proved to be much stronger than you had believed and you needed to regain control of it to ensure you wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

And Yoongi was too strong of a link to the city. Your feelings were too much and too complicated. If he had known where you had run to, there was a chance he would have followed and it wouldn’t be only Seokjin you had doomed to a life in a small town he hadn’t wanted to return to. 

Yoongi sighed. “That's all then. I came here to thank you for taking care of Jungkook,” he said, breaking the silence. “I will forever be in your debt. Jungkook told me of how you found him and how you cared for him. I was out of my mind when I couldn’t find him and I realised he was out in the storm alone. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything had happened to him, I would never forgive myself. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

“I will tell you what I told him, there is no need for thanks or debts. I wanted to help him and I did. The fact that he is a very cute bat also helped, I couldn’t resist.”

Your attempt at a joke was rewarded with a weak chuckle. “It’s those big eyes. It’s impossible to tell him no.”

“I can imagine that.” You glanced at the clock again. The tea was ready. “I guess you are visiting Jin. Now that the weather won’t interfere as much with my magic, I should send him a fire message to let him know that you are both here and safe. Knowing him, he will be fretting over where you are and driving Jimin crazy.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t tell him I would be leaving in the morning,” Yoongi confessed. It made sense, Seokjin wouldn’t have let him leave while the rain was still this heavy and definitely not without an umbrella. “Should I take this to the living room?” He gestured to the tray you had set up with the teapot and the three mugs.

“Yes, go ahead. The tea is ready.”

Yoongi picked up the tray and left the kitchen without saying anything more. There was a painful tightness in your throat as your shoulders slumped. You had to send that message to Seokjin but your feet were rooted to the ground and your knees were weak. You had thought you would never see Yoongi again and although it hurt, after years you had made peace with it. All that was [changed] by the storm and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You opened one of the drawers and pulled out a crinkled loose leaf of paper from the stack you kept there. On the counter, there was a pen next to the old witchcraft recipe book you had been studying the day before. You gripped the pen and debated how you should start the letter. He had known Yoongi was coming to town and yet he had told you nothing when he knew why you had run away and why no one should know where you were. He was supposed to be your best friend and best friends looked out for each other. For the first time during your friendship, that wasn’t true.

Suppressing your stupid anger, you wrote a quick message letting him know that Jungkook and Yoongi were safe in your house and that you would send them back to town once the rain and the forest’s magic calmed down. Towards the end, you added that you would like to know about any future guests of his from the city. You considered crossing over the bitterness that bled into the page but you let it be. Using black chalk, you drew the sigil for the fire message at the top right corner.

You lit up a blood-red candle and burned some thyme over the flame first. You recited the incantation while you held the message over the fire and watched it consume the paper. The magic was a lazy tingle at your fingertips and a warmth curled in your chest.

Yoongi and Jungkook were talking in hushed voices that were swiftly silenced when you walked back to the living room. The tea had been poured into the mugs but they were untouched. You picked up one of them on your way to the armchair. Conversation was stilted. Jungkook tried to alleviate the awkwardness but was soon shrinking into his sire’s side, clutching onto his mug of tea with both hands. 

“The rain is growing weaker,” you observed. “The forest’s magic is settling, it can be unpredictable during storms and it’s dangerous to tread through it when it is like that. It will be best for you to return to the town before it picks up again.”

There would be another spike in a couple of hours before it broke in the night. That’s how storms like this one worked and what your senses were telling you.

You accompanied them to the door and they thanked you again. It felt like you didn’t deserve it with your past mistakes clinging to you like vices. Jungkook was quieter than last night when you were practically a stranger.

“Here,” you said, handing Yoongi the only umbrella you owned. It was a black one with little mushrooms Jimin had painted on it and enchanted them not to be washed away by rain. “I don’t use it much and I won’t be going into town for a few days. Seokjin can bring it back when he finds time.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi said.

You picked up your cloak from the coat stand and offered it to Jungkook. “And this is for you. It’s charmed to protect you from rain.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, making him look like a baby deer. “I can’t take your cloak,” he said, shaking his head. “You might need it.”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have anywhere to go.” You would have to go to the farmhouse later in the day but it was only a short distance away and a little rain wouldn’t phase you. You took it up to yourself to wrap the cloak around him and pull the hood over his head. “I didn’t nurse you back to health for you to get sick now.”

Suddenly, there was a blur of movement and strong arms were wrapped around you. Jungkook was hugging you and, when the shock wore off, you hugged him back.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, his voice sounding a little wet.

“If anything, you found me,” you joked. You pulled back, although you didn’t want to let go of him. “Go now. The forest will lead you to the town.”

“I will bring the cloak back to you,” Jungkook promised before he and Yoongi left. On the path, Yoongi glanced back at you over his shoulder but you averted your eyes and closed the door.

Five years and your heart still fluttered. But it was different. There was guilt tainting everything surrounding him. You had imagined meeting him again countless times, of course, you had, mostly during restless nights and too quiet mornings, but it hadn’t played out like this in any of your scenarios. It was too… simple, too mundane, even though your heart was still racing, but it also felt a little like the end of the world. 

Their mugs were sitting empty on the coffee table. You placed them on the tray to take everything back in the kitchen and you realized that you had forgotten to at least put some cookies in a plate for them. Vampires didn’t eat much human food but it was simple courtesy to offer.

There was a spark in the air, followed by another, before flames erupted and formed a letter. You caught it before it floated to the ground. The loopy handwriting belonged to Seokjin. The first line was an apology, the second line was an apology as well. He promised to visit as soon as he could to explain and that you had every right to be angry at him. He thanked you for letting him know that Yoongi and Jungkook were safe since Yoongi had taken off in the morning before Seokjin had woken up, otherwise, he wouldn’t have let him go off in the rain. Reading his letter, the jagged edges of your anger smoothed but Seokjin would have to explain himself in person.

You picked up the tray and set yourself to tidying up. It was strange, you had lived alone for five years but the house felt emptier than ever before.

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