#and our girl does NOT like his alpha scent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theamberwriter · 11 months

Text

The Perfect Blend

Modern!Alpha!Levi Ackerman x Omega!GN!Reader || Tea Shop AU

Word count: 6.3k

So this is the first fic I’ve written in a while, and I cannot remember the last time I actually watched AoT. But my thirst for Levi can never be tamed. I hope this does him some justice. Also, I’m on my iPad. So the formatting may be a little weird.

Companion Art: [1] [2]

☕️📚

The Stem and Spine was the shiney new bookstore/tea shop opening on the corner on Prescott and Main. It seemed like ages since anyone had tried opening a store there. It was such a quaint spot. The historical building had detailed moldings, uneven red bricks, and chipped, dark blue paint. Six large, angled windows gave a panoramic view out to the bustling streets in your little college town.

It was the perfect spot to stop, drink tea, and people watch.

You were looking forward to opening day. You’d spent months crawling through every bookshop, online and in person, as well as every thrift shop trying to find one specific book. No one seemed to know of it’s existence. So you were silently begging the universe to cut you a break and let this new bookshop carry what you were looking for.

You’d only recently discovered their grand opening. An awkward omega gave you a flier. They were handing them out as people were leaving the grocery store. You were really excited, but maybe that was your inner bookworm talking.

Since the shop was right down the road, you decided to walk there on opening morning. You weren’t really expecting any sort of crowd. All of the college kids had gone home for the summer, so the streets had emptied out some. You enjoyed how quiet the summers were. So the long, winding line leading from the door of Stem and Spine was definitely a surprise.

You didn’t need to look for the book that badly. You could come in a month or so when things had died down some. You were going to head back home when you heard the people by you talking:

“I heard the guy running this place is hot as fuck,” said one.

“Did you hear what that girl in our study group said?” asked the other. The first shook their head. “Apparently his scent is like, super strong.”

The friend grinned, running their tongue over their teeth. “I can‘t wait to find out.”

Oh no, you mentally groaned then took a nice deep breath. The scents came one right after the other. A mangled mash up of pheromones. This line was almost entirely betas and omegas. And they were here for that alpha. You were never going to be able to shop there at this rate! As an omega yourself, you just knew they all would come from miles around until this guy was claimed.

You decided it was better to queue up, then maybe you’d actually get a chance to set foot inside. You waited for hours. You were sure those ahead of you would linger as long as possible and try to make an impression. That meant everyone had to stand in line longer.

By the time employees came down the line and told people they were closing for the night, your feet were killing you and your phone battery was nearly dead. All day and you’d only gotten a quarter of the way to the door! You could still see the spot you’d started from. A few people tried to get rowdy, complaining it was unfair that they’d been waiting all day. But their steam fizzled when employees threatened to call the police.

For two weeks, you checked the line for Stem and Spine. Day after day the line seemed to get longer. You saw a lot of returning faces, they must’ve been desperate. You even saw a handful of people getting escorted out by police! You also heard more and more rumors about what everyone was lining up for.

I heard he’s one of those hot, stoic types. I’d love to break him.

I heard that if you’re a beta or omega, just the guy’s scent is enough to make you jizz in your pants.

I heard he doesn’t like needy omegas, good thing I’m not like the others.

I heard he’s starting an entire harem - I’d love to be a part of that!

This is my eighth time going. I swear, I’m on the verge of making him my mate!

The rumors went on and on, getting more and more absurd. You wondered what this guy was really like, if he was really worth all of this. You weren’t interested, you just wanted a book! If anything, this was annoying. You figured it was probably annoying for him too, especially if he just wanted to do his job and not have to worry about anyone throwing themselves at him.

Finally, on a Sunday afternoon, you were able to set foot in Stem and Spine. It was quiet. No three block long line in sight. Sure, it was still busy but these people actually wanted books. They were all glued to the shelves, actually talking about books, and showing each other covers.

Inside was better than you’d imagined it. Everything was cream, gold, crimson, and navy blue. In one half was the tea shop. There were shelves of tea and accessories that lined the walls; loose leaf, prepackaged, diffusers, tea pots, honey sticks, spoon rests. As well as a long barista counter that had a large chalkboard and sizable drink list that was nothing but tea. There were a small handful of metal tables and chairs, and you remembered seeing some outside with umbrellas as well.

The other half of the store was the bookshop. There was row after row of books. Mostly fiction from your first glance. There were also displays for local authors and a shelf of new arrivals. You couldn’t wait to spend the day combing through. The entire vibe was cozy and the scent of jasmine wafting around was relaxing. You did wonder, however, how you were able to get in. Had the alpha been claimed? You didn’t smell anything overwhelming.

“Aaawwww, what do you mean he’s not here?!” You heard a girl whine. You were just starting on the second row of books.

“Mr. Ackerman isn’t here,” said the employee, irritation clear in their voice. “And no, I don’t know if he’ll be back today.”

The girl groaned loudly, but you didn’t hear her complain anymore. You figured she must’ve left. You wondered if she was the one who’d managed multiple visits.

“This has really gotten out of hand,” you heard the employee down the aisle say. They’d been stocking more books. “Great for sales, though.”

“That bad?” you asked. The employee looked at you, she looked tired. Her name tag read Mikasa.

“You have no idea,” she sighed. “I like working here. Levi is my cousin and a great boss, but these fangirls have just been too much. You’d think the fact that he ignores them would be a turn off. But they just keep coming.”

You didn’t realize you’d spent your whole afternoon in Stem and Spine until Mikasa came around to give you a five minute heads up. You were disappointed you didn’t find what you were looking for. But you still managed to find a couple hidden gems you were excited about. Maybe what you wanted was just too obscure.

You brought your books to the counter. As they rang you up, you noticed a clip board with a paper that read What Books Would You Like to See at Stem and Spine? Under that was a long list of handwritten titles and author names. You quickly scribbled down the book you were looking for. At least now there was a chance for it to appear.

Over the next month, you managed two visits to Stem and Spine every week. You and the employees actually started to recognize each other. You also started to see titles you recognized from the list. The mysterious Mr. Ackerman, however, still managed to escape your sight. Every time you went, there was a small posse outside just trying to grab a whiff.

It wasn’t until your first visit of the following month that you finally laid eyes on him. You’d just finished a series and were looking to start a new one. So you wandered over to the new arrivals section. You’d been there about half an hour when a heavy wave of lavender hit you. It filled your head, murking up your thoughts. You figured this had to be him, and the rumors were true - his scent was another beast entirely.

You shook your head to focus your thoughts. You liked this store, so this was something you were going to have to get used to if you wanted to keep shopping there. But you were also extremely concerned - if he was here, then that long line and hoard of omegas and betas would be too. You wanted to leave, but you were stuck between two books with money only for one.

You probably should’ve noticed the scent getting stronger. But you were so focused on reviewing the synopsis on both and thumbing through that you were oblivious. You didn’t wake from your stupor until there was a flutter of movement beside you. You glanced to your left to see a dark haired man in a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He set down the few boxes he was carrying.

This man, you realized, was where the lavender wall had come from. This was the infamous Levi Ackerman, owner of Stem and Spine. Mikasa had told you a bit about him in previous weeks. You liked talking to her whenever you came in.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said in a surprising tenor. His back was still to you. You cursed under your breath and turned back to the shelf. That was one way to embarrass yourself. You began musing between the books in your hands again.

After a long moment of silence, a voice said, “I’d pick the one in your right hand.”

You looked over to meet a bored pair of silver eyes. “What?”

“I’ve read them both. The book in your right hand was far more interesting.”

“Oh cool,” you said slowly. “Thanks. I would’ve been here for ages.”

You quickly placed the other one back in its place and scuttled away. You were just going to have to take his word for it. You didn’t want to hover anymore than you had. At the front, they packaged up your book and you were swiftly out the door.

Levi had been right, the book was very good and you were excited that there were four more books to follow with a movie planned. The next time you tried to go to Stem and Spine it was packed again. There was a line down the block and you just didn’t have the time to wait. Your shift at work started soon, and all you’d wanted to do was thank him for the recommendation.

You decided to head straight to work instead. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long to see the bookstore owner again. The wall of lavender hit you before you saw him. You watched everyone around you turn to stare. It didn’t seem to phase him in the least.

Levi came to the counter and briefly talked with your coworker, who couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. When they disappeared to look for someone, Levi waited at the counter. This was probably going to be weird, but you really did want to thank him for helping you find a new series you absolutely loved.

“Hey,” you started, the book in your hand. He glanced at you briefly. “I, uh. You probably don’t remember me, but you recommended this book to me last week. And I, uh, I just wanted to say thank you. It was really good.”

“I told you it was better,” he stated. “I remember the other one you had - the author writes shit. It doesn’t have any good character development and there were a few glaring plot holes.”

“Oh, that’s good to know - I’ll definitely take that off my reading list.” You laughed awkwardly, carefully tucking the book away in your bag. “I was, uh, I was going to stop by the shop earlier. See if you were there - so I could thank you. But that line was just - woo!”

“I’m going to have to do something about that.” You weren’t sure if that was directed at you, but Levi seemed lost in thought.

Your coworker soon came back with someone in tow. They talked for a minute and then Levi and his intoxicating scent were gone. Afterwards, your coworker could not shut up about him. There was no way you were going to tell them about the bookshop.

In the days that followed, the line to get into the shop shrunk. But there was a continuous crowd that flurried around. A few employees you recognized seemed to be doing crowd control.

“I don’t care that you want to see him,” said one. “You don’t actually want a book or tea! It’s clogging up the shop.”

So Levi was doing something about the outrageous line. You were looking forward to being able to shop there again. The employees inside seemed less stressed when you went in and, at least, you weren’t brushing shoulders with anyone.

“Hey, [Name]!” Mikasa called as she spied you. She waved from her spot at the book counter where she was talking with Levi. You waved back at her, accidentally met Levi’s eyes, and then shuffled off into the book aisle to grab the next installment of the series.

You paid for your book, then went over to the tea shop. You didn’t know much about tea, but you figured you might as well start trying the different blends. There was a small display set up that recommended different teas for certain books. Like a nice citrusy Lady Grey to go with Pride and Prejudice.

“I don’t think that tea pairs with your book.”

You knew that voice. You turned to find Levi there with you, hovering, observing as you skimmed through the tea bags. You looked down at the pouch of English Breakfast Tea in your hand.

“You don’t think so?”

“You’ll want a black currant tea.” Levi reached just above your head and pulled down a paper bag with a raven on it. “I’m partial to this one.”

You took the bag, turning it over in your hand. You put the original pouch you grabbed back. Awkwardly, you smiled at him. “Uh, thanks. Guess I’ll go pay for this then.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it, it was probably nothing. But this encounter left you with a strange feeling. There were a few more like that to follow too.

“You’ll want a different tea for that,” he said as you picked up the third book.

“I can’t just make the black currant one?” you asked, baffled.

“Each book has a flavor that it pairs with. This one is more of a mint. If you pick wrong, you'll ruin the whole damn experience.” Levi turned the full power of his eyes on you. You were frozen under them. “Just like each person has their scent. Each scent has something that pairs nicely with it. For example, mine is lavender, yours is more of a sage. The two go well together.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage. That was the first time you felt the little flutter in your chest.

Every time you went to Stem and Spine to purchase a book Levi was there over your shoulder. He’d direct you to whichever tea he felt best went with it. He even started talking about the nuances in the flavors. How the aromatics helped, which shape of tea bag was optimal, ideally how long to steep it for. You became very knowledgeable about tea in the following visits. You were sure you'd be an expert by the time you went to pick up the last book in the series he showed you. But nowhere near as knowledgeable as Levi.

The next time you went, you saw Mikasa at the counter speaking with Levi.

"You can have the days off. Just fill out the request form," Levi said as you walked up to them.

"You're going on vacation soon, Mikasa?" you asked.

She turned her eyes to you. "My mate is going into his rut soon. I always make sure to take those days off to help him with his nest or anything else he needs."

You smiled at her. "That's really thoughtful, Mikasa. I hope, if I find someone, that they're like you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a mate?"

"No." You shook your head and shrugged.

You could've sworn you caught Mikasa giving Levi a nudge and a sharp look. Levi gave her a brief glare back. Then his eyes turned to you, his gaze relaxed.

"Why?" he asked.

You laughed humorlessly. "No one's ever really stuck around or I broke up with them. One guy tried to get me to sell my book collection. He said that they were just a waste of time and money. So I decided that he was a waste of my time. There's nothing worse than someone who doesn't understand your hobbies."

Levi said nothing but hummed in response.

"Do you have a mate out there in this big wide world, Levi?" you asked.

"No," he spat curtly.

You didn't mean to gape, but you couldn't deny you were shocked. "Really?"

"What?"

"I'm just surprised, ya know? With your strong scent and how handsome you are... I just figured by now someone would have come along. That's all."

Levi looked away from you. "My scent is more trouble than it's worth. All it does is draw shitty little brats."

You chuckled. "I can see that, considering the long line the first month you guys were open. I also noticed the growing wall of banned people. – Well I just came in to grab something really fast before work. My shift starts soon."

The college students were starting back up for the autumn semester. The streets began to fill up with cars of fresh faces, new dreams, and overstuffed suitcases. You had a feeling there'd be a new influx of people at Stem and Spine.

The hunch was correct.

Before you knew it, the store was once again filled wall to wall with people seeking Levi's attention. He seemed increasingly agitated every time you saw him. Then he once again disappeared for a few weeks, causing the crowds to thin.

“I heard the author is writing the final installment,” Mikasa said as she rang you up. “It’s supposed to be out in a few months.”

“Really? I thought this was the last book?” You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t upset, just surprised. The story felt like it could easily be wrapped up in one book. You hoped it wasn’t going to be one of those strangling the plot lines scenarios, where the whole series goes down in flames right at the end.

“Nope, one more.” Mikasa shook her head. “I’m sure Levi will be upset.”

“Does he really like this series?”

“No.”

You met her with a curious gaze. Her eyes gave you nothing in return. You’d never really noticed how similar she and Levi looked until then. Both with silky black hair and unwavering grey eyes.

"I don't smell him around today. I take it he's still in hiding? I guess I'm on my own to find a tea, then," you laughed.

Mikasa handed you your bag, it was brown paper with a dark red book and tea leaf stamped onto it. You had a small collection you kept folded under your sink and used for various things.

"Hey, before you go," Mikasa started. "I'd like to consider us friends."

You nodded and smiled at her. "I'd like to think so."

"So then would you like to hang out when I'm not working? I was thinking about going to see the movie for this, it comes out soon. Would you like to go? I'll buy the tickets."

"That'd be awesome! I can pay you back."

Mikasa laughed, then waved her hand dismissively. "It's no issue, don't worry about it. Give me your number, and we can pick a date."

You exchanged numbers then wandered over to the teashop. You were only a little upset to be tea shopping alone. You were so used to having company. You wondered what type of tea Levi would recommend. You had to admit, you were starting to look forward to your shopping visits more knowing he was there. You were happier to see him than Mikasa most days. You were grateful for your newly formed friendship, so it made you feel a bit guilty. But you couldn’t deny that there was something soothing about listening to Levi’s passion for tea.

You thumbed through the pages of the book. Skimming without trying to spoil anything for yourself. You were just trying to get the feel. What flavor would this book be? Something dark and fruity, like a black currant? Or something a little lighter, more classic like the mint? You settled on an orange bergamot, this would have to work. You paid and then walked over to your job.

About half way through your shift, a familiar tsunami of lavender smacked you in the face. Levi strode casually through the lobby looking bored as ever. He had a bag in his hand. You wondered if he’d been out shopping. You met his gaze, immediately diverting your own back to your paperwork.

“Mikasa said you were in the shop today,” he said, the scent rolling off of him was strange and heavy.

You looked up, getting sucked into those silver pools. “Yeah, I came to get the next book in the series. I figured you were still keeping your distance. - Did you need my help with something? Did you need John again?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t pick a shitty tea.”

You scrutinized his face. It held absolutely nothing. He really came all this way to ask what tea you picked? Well, it was just the next street over. But he still had to go out of his way to see you. He didn’t have to do that. Your heart fluttered.

“I skimmed through, but I’m not sure I picked the right one.” You handed over the bag of tea you bought.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Tech, don’t spoil it for yourself, idiot.”

He took the bag, examining it thoroughly. He considered the ingredients for a long moment. You could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. Finally Levi handed it back over to you.

“Interesting choice,” he started. “But it works. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, I really tried to put your lessons into practice,” you laughed. There was a long stretch of silence. “I suppose you’re probably going back to Stem and Spine, I won’t keep you any longer. But I appreciate you stopping by, I didn’t think you remembered that I worked here.”

Levi stood a moment longer, then placed the bag he’d been carrying on the counter. It was from his store. “I brought this in case you picked wrong. - I’d still like you to have it.”

You stood. “No, I couldn’t -”

“I insist.”

“At least let me lay you for it. Or exchange it for the one I bought!”

Levi was already walking away. “Just take the fucking thing. I picked it out for you.”

Then Levi was gone, but his lavender scent still swam in your head. You took the bag from the counter, peering in to inspect its contents. You were so curious what he picked. You pulled out a white bag of loose leaf tea with a rose stamped on it in pink. The name read The Start of Something Sweet, it was made with strawberries and rose. You couldn’t help but smile a bit to yourself.

Later that night you made yourself a cup using what you remembered of Levi’s impromptu tea lessons. You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face. Not even as you talked with Mikasa about your movie plans. You picked a date two Saturdays away. You were really excited, you could only hope that the movie did any sort of justice.

A few days later, you made another trip to Levi’s store. It was restock day. As usual, you beelined for the new arrivals section. You were disheartened to find your requested book had still not made an appearance. You groaned. Maybe they couldn’t find a distributor either. That’d be just your luck.

“Looking for anything in particular?” Mikasa asked, stopping beside you. “You look disappointed.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’ve been on the hunt for this one book and no one has it. I’ve checked everywhere! I even put it on your recommendations list when you first opened. It’s just getting annoying at this point.”

“Maybe I can track it down for you and get you a rush order?”

You smiled at her gratefully. “You’d do that for me?”

Mikasa shrugged. “It’s no problem. I don’t see why not. What’s Levi going to do? Fire me?”

“Sweet, thank you so much! I’ll text you what I’m looking for.”

“Hey, I’m actually about to go on break. Do you want to go get something to eat with me? You have off today, right?”

You agreed and hovered by the counter while Mikasa grabbed her things from the back. You chatted idly with a few of the other employees. They were complaining about how busy it’s been since school was back in session. You hadn’t been surprised, of course. They did build the town around the university after all.

Once the scent of lavender began wafting in, everyone became tense. You noticed something was off. It was sharper and so sweet it was almost bitter and very dense and heavy. Levi stalked in, looking irritated. He gave a sharp glare to his employees, but didn’t say anything. Instead marching through the door that said employees only on it.

“Something must’ve happened,” said one of the employees you were talking to. “He was in a good mood this morning.”

You wanted to go after him. In fact, your feet even began to pull in his direction on their own. But you stopped yourself, embarrassed. Tea aside - you didn’t know him all that well, after all. The last thing he’d probably wanted was a random omega tailing after him.

You had a thought, a reflection of something he told you - a book and a good cup of tea always made his mood better. He told you in passing, he probably didn’t even remember saying it. You knew you’d seen your favorite book somewhere in the store. With any luck, it was one he hadn’t read. You swept through the shelves, quickly finding it, then went to find a matching tea. You’d already had one in mind. Mikasa emerged just as the cashier was packing it all up for you. You had them wrap it in brown paper.

“Did you find something after all?” she asked.

You felt warm. Did it get hot all the sudden? You looked guiltily at the items in your hands.

“Actually,” you started awkwardly. “These are for Levi.”

“Levi?”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty mad when he came through a few minutes ago. Could you - I don’t know - could you give these to him for me?”

“I think it would be better if you gave them to him yourself, he’s still here.”

Mikasa didn’t give you much of a choice as she steered you towards the door he’d gone through. She forcefully shoved you down a small hallway and into Levi’s office. He was furious when he heard the door open. The sharp scent was even thicker in here, nearly suffocating. But you couldn’t help your overwhelming urge to calm him.

“[Name],” Levi grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were shut tight. “I know you can fucking read, the sign says employees only.”

“They have something for you, don’t be an asshole,” snapped Mikasa.

You thought you heard Levi mutter brat under his breath. He looked up at you, eyeing the items in your hands curiously. You smiled a bit. Avoiding his gaze, you admired how neat his desk was. You were sure, if you had a ruler, that everything would be evenly spaced apart.

“You seemed upset when you came in,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I remembered what you said and thought maybe a book and some tea would help? This one’s my favorite and I picked something that I thought went with it. - I promise I paid for it.”

You placed the items on his desk and slowly backed away. You tried to slip away now that your peace offering had been given. Mikasa, however, wouldn’t let you leave. Levi picked up the book, turning it over his hands. He studied the cover and read the synopsis. Finally, after a long minute, he hummed and turned back to you.

“I haven’t read this one,” Levi said. You stifled a sigh of relief. “You make interesting choices in tea, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said quickly and Mikasa finally let you out the door.

Mikasa didn’t bring up the incident over lunch. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why did you do that? It was incredibly impulsive, but also inappropriate. That was basically the equivalent of screaming out how much he made your heart race and your palms sweat.

You tried not to dwell on it. But over the course of the week, you found yourself reflecting. You had hoped, more than you realized, that he would like what you brought him. You wanted his approval, not just his thanks. But you hadn’t been able to find the time to stop by the store and see if he’d read it. You’d been too busy with work, along with some plans with friends.

The next time you saw Levi was at your work again. He came bearing another bag. You were worried your coworkers would start getting the wrong idea. An alpha giving an omega gifts - how must that have looked to them? Then again, it was awfully presumptuous to think that the bag was for you.

But you were certain that Levi would never court you. Did you want him to, even? You hadn’t put much thought into the idea. But you didn’t hate the thought of getting to know him better. All you knew was what little he’d revealed in your chats while you picked out books and tea. Along with a little of what Mikasa had told you.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you joked as Levi stepped up to the counter.

There was a certain air about him today. Maybe it was the way he’d slicked his hair back neatly. Or how starched the collar on his shirt was where it came out of his camel colored vest. He even seemed a touch more rested than usual.

Levi placed a bag on the counter. “This is for you.”

You couldn’t stop the sound of delight that came out of your mouth as you took the book out of the bag. It was finally, finally in your hands. After countless hours of fruitless searching, the damn book was finally in your hand.

“Holy shit,” you cried. “You found it! How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house this time.” Levi reached in and pulled a small brown pouch out of the bag. He smirked, which sent a chill down your spine. “Cinnamon, something spicy to go with that dirty fucking shit you’re reading.”

You froze mid celebration, oh shit. It was indeed a book with a good chunk of smut in it. Your friend had let you borrow her copy, that’s the only reason you knew about the book in the first place.

“You read it?” your voice came out hoarse.

Levi clicked his tongue. “The important parts, to figure out which blend would go along with it. It’s no wonder you couldn’t find it, no self respecting bookshop carries porn.”

“It’s not porn!”

You were not expecting him to read it. But of course he would only read the spicy scenes. No context to the story or anything else. You were devastated.

“Mhm.” It did not sound like he believed you. With that, Levi turned and began to walk away. He called over his shoulder to have a good day, followed by the pet name they used in the book.

You felt warm all over, tingles chasing from head to toe. You stared after him until he was gone. Then you sat flustered in your seat with your cheek against the cool desk. You could feel a scream burning in the back of your throat. You were so glad there was a half wall so no one could see you.

When you finally got up the nerve to crack open the book you found an envelope. Your name was written in beautiful cursive on the back. Cautiously, you cut it open. Inside was money and a little note in the same scrawl.

I won’t hold this against you. I know your entire taste in literature isn’t trash. Here’s money back for the stuff you gave me. I can see why it’s your favorite.

L. Ackerman

PS. Don’t even fucking think about trying to give the money back.

It was a short note, but it was enough to bring that flutter back. You couldn’t help reading it over and over again.

Before you knew it, movie day was finally upon you. You dressed casually and were so excited that you got to the theater an hour before it started. There was no Mikasa in sight, so you sat on a bench and read. You didn’t start to worry until there was only fifteen minutes before the movie began and she was still nowhere to be seen. Not even a text.

You: Hey, just checking if you’re close by.

Mikasa: Sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it. Enjoy the movie, you’ll have to tell me what I missed.

You groaned. You did not want to see this movie on your own. Though, you supposed it wasn’t so bad. Lots of people went by themselves. You’d just been looking forward to some bonding time with your new friend.

“So this is what that little brat was up to,” said a voice behind you. You turned to find no other than Levi. His scent was just beginning to wrap you up in a field of flowers. He had two travel cups with him, and looked as attractive as ever. No white collared shirt today. That was replaced by casual clothes and tight fitting jeans.

“Mikasa?” you asked, forcing yourself to look away.

He rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known, she didn’t even read the damn thing.”

You stood in silence for a moment. You had to wonder if this was as weird for him as it was for you. You had to admit, you did not see this coming. You could only wonder if he was disappointed to see you there.

You cleared your throat. “Look, you don’t have to watch it with me. We can sit in separate rows -“

“Don’t be stupid. Here.” Levi held out a cup to you. “You didn’t get to read the first book with anything. - Let’s go see if they fucked our shit up.”

Levi grabbed your wrist, tugging towards the direction of your theater. Your skin tingled where he touched you. You weren’t surprised by the amount of stares, but each set of eyes you passed was still unnerving. You were glad to be in your seats where it’d be harder for them.

“I heard they’re already filming the next one,” Levi stated after a few moments. He wasn’t looking at you. He concentrated almost too hard on the screen, you thought he was going to bore holes into it. “We should go see it together when it comes out. Maybe grab dinner beforehand.”

“Like…a date?” you asked. It slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell else?”

You paused for a moment, twisting to look at him. You couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not. His cheeks gained a flush of pink. You smiled at him, then settled back into your seat.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Levi nodded, but didn’t say anything else as the lights went down. Somewhere through the night, in the tension of the dark theater, your hand ended up enveloped in his.

In the morning Stem and Spine was your first stop. You were there as soon as they opened. Mikasa was doing the opening drawer. You watched as Levi went up and slammed his hand down on the counter. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“Oi,” he said. Mikasa looked up at him. “What the hell was that stunt you pulled yesterday?”

You walked up behind him. “Yeah, you did miss one hell of a movie.”

“I don’t know why you’re both so annoyed, it seems my plan worked,” she said bored, not even bothering to look up from the cash she was counting.

“How did you know we wouldn’t just walk out of the theater and not watch the movie together?” you asked.

“You both like that series too much. Besides, Levi may know a lot about tea, but he’s also stupid. He never does anything for himself. So while he may not have realized what he was feeling, we all could see it. He just needed a little push. And so did you, [Name]. I knew you liked Levi.”

“I never actually told you that, though. I never told anyone.”

“You didn’t have to. You could smell it in the air when you were around each other. Like a call and response. You two were perfect and you couldn’t even see it. I knew from the first day you walked into the shop.”

Levi took your hand. “Don’t look so fucking smug.”

Mikasa laughed as Levi took you to his office. As soon as you stepped in Levi shut the door behind you. He gave you a swift kiss on the cheek as he went to his desk.

“She’s right you know,” he started, intentionally avoiding looking at you. “We are the perfect blend.”

You couldn’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

435 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 9 months

Text

What you see is what you get

Summary: Your friend needs help. You get more than help.

Pairing: FBI! (Alpha) Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Cassie Robinson, Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: angst, catfishing, mentions of nudes, mentions extortion, a/b/o, scenting, flirting, cocky Dean

“That motherfucker.” Your best friend slams her laptop shut and shoves it away. “I-I can’t believe I fell for his good looks.”

“What’s wrong?” You look up from the book you read. “Babe, we wanted to have a girl’s night. But all we did so far is read, and watch boring movies while you were glued to your laptop.”

“I tried to find out more about Jeremy,” Cassie sighs deeply. “I thought he was the one this time. He was funny, smart, and got a big dick.”

“Big dick,” you choke on the wine you drank. “How do you wanna know? Did you exchange nudes? I told you to not send guys nudes online!”

“I didn’t send him nudes.” Cassie doesn’t look you in the eyes, making you suspicious.

You cock a brow. “Cassie, I need you to be honest with me. Did you send pictures of your coochie to a stranger you never met?"

“I-no…I mean…it was a boob pic and one of my clothed pussy,” she finally admits. “Now he wants money from me. He threatens to publish the pictures. What do I do now?”

“What does that cockroach want?” You grab the laptop to check on the messages Cassie’s chat partner sent her today. “He wants five thousand bucks? Like hell! You won’t pay him a single buck. We are going to the cops.”

“No—they won’t help me. No one can. It’s my damn fault that I sent the pictures to him. I should’ve known better than trusting a stranger on the internet.”

Cassie looks devasted. Usually, she’s a strong and cocky woman. But right now, she looks like a scared child.

“They will,” you grunt. “I won’t accept any less than that bastard’s head on a silver plate.”

“Hi, uh—we,” Cassie doesn’t know how to start. Your friend doesn’t want to talk about her mistakes. She stares at the officer, ready to just run out of the police station and never look back.

“We need to talk to someone from the cybercrime department,” you size the officer up when he ignores you and waves you off. “Dude, did you even listen.”

“Do I look like an FBI agent?” The officer snaps at you. “If you have a problem with your laptop, look for a repair service.”

“Hey! My friend cat catfished and now that bastard wants five thousand bucks. Last time I checked extortion was still a crime. Now I want to talk to someone more qualified.”

“Miss, can I help you?” You dip your head to look at the new arrivers. Two tall guys in suits. One of them steps closer and shows you his badge. “I’m Agent Winchester, and this is my partner Agent Winchester.”

You snicker. “You are both Agent Winchester?”

He chuckles as you grab his wrist to keep him from putting his badge away. You read the name on the badge, humming as it says Winchester.

“We are brothers,” the other agent explains. “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. How can we help you?”

“Do you work for the cyber crime department by any chance?” You ask, still holding Dean’s wrist in a tight grip. “My friend needs help.”

“We will help you and your friend, sweetheart. Our colleague Agent Bradbury is a cybercrime expert. How about we go somewhere more private?”

“Y/N, I don’t think this is a good idea. The FBI has better things to do than helping me with my problems.” Cassie tries to drag you away. She grabs your arm, but you are glued to the spot.

“You won't pay that sonofabitch a single buck,” Dean smirks at your curse words. He dips his head and looks you up and down.

“Dean…don’t,” Sam warns. “We’ve got a case going on and got no time for distractions.”

“We must help these ladies,” Dean insists. “Call Charlie, we need her here.”

“Fine. But you will explain to Bobby why we didn’t solve the case…”

Half an hour later you sit in one of the offices at the police station.

It’s handy to have a bunch of FBI agents around. Suddenly the cops offered an office to you and even brought you coffee.

"To make a long story short…” Sam clears his throat when his brother is busy staring at you. “You send nudes to that douchebag and now he tries to extort you?”

“Not me. My friend,” you point at Cassie’s laptop. “She chatted with him for months. He seemed to be a nice guy. One thing led to another, and he sent a dick pic or like fifteen. After he begged and pleaded she returned the favor.”

“A classic,” the quirk redhead Sam called finally looks your way. She was busy checking on Cassie’s laptop and didn't even make a sound until now. “That’s how they gaslight you into believing you owe them nudes or shit.”

She drops her eyes back to the monitor, typing away on the keyboard. “Can you help my friend, Agent Bradbury?”

“Aw, sweetie. After I’m done with that little bug, I will clean your hard drive,” Charlie grins when you drop your gaze. She chuckles and goes back to work.

Dean dips his head to whisper in Charlie’s direction. “Hands off. I saw her first. You can hit on her friend.”

While the agents check on Cassie’s laptop, and talk about codes and shit you don’t understand, you lean closer to your friend. “I call dips on the cocky one. You can have one of the others.”

“Hmm… I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on both,” Cassie chuckles. She’s in a better mood now and ready to flirt with Sam and Charlie. “Jeremy’s loss, their win.”

“Gotcha, you bug!” Charlie exclaims. She flashes Cassie a smile, hoping to impress your friend. “I located the IP address and found the bastard extorting you. It’s not a guy, though.”

“What? Damn…” Cassie sighs. "It wasn't his dick on the pictures?"

“Nope," the redhead shrugs. "Do you know a woman named Bela Talbot?”

Cassie gapes at Charlie. “I heard that name before…I mean…uh…”

“She’s her ex,” you hastily say. “Bela cheated on my friend with some guy. Cassie broke up with her."

"I haven’t heard of her for like three years.”

While Cassie and Charlie talk about her ex, online dating, and how to get her pictures back, you turn your attention back toward Dean.

Placing your hand on Dean’s thigh you purr his name. “So…are you single, taken, or seeing someone, Agent Winchester?”

“He’s single and desperate,” Sam grins. “But be aware. What you see is what you get.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it…”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fbi!dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omega!reader #a/b/o #fbi au #dean winchester x reader

281 notes · View notes

f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Prey/predator trope drabble😭♥️ Wolf-like Chris x Doe Reader

summary: Chris the cliché big bad wolf has his own little doe eyed wife, his own prey. Y/n L/n

Chris howled watching his doe eyed wife run around their house getting ready for Christmas, her body accompanied with small brown ears atop her head, the only sign showing that she’s a prey. Chris on the other hand, born of a wolf pack, had more hair than most with tall domineering grey ears on his head. “Baby come sit with your man, please” Chris smiled showing off his sharpened canines, “B-but the pumpkin pie is not-“

“Come sit” He said more assertively, spreading his legs, the thicker hairs on his arms raising as he watched her basically prance into his lap. “You’ve been workin all day my little doe, not been giving me much thought have you?” He smirked raking his hands up throw the middle of her ears and scratching softly, watching as she nuzzled into the palm of his hand. His doe eyed wife.

“When can I visit my f-family?” She whispered looking up to meet his dark eyes, watching as he slightly snarled at her, “Fine. Leave me. Won’t be long before some other wolf snatches you up, and I won’t be able to help will I?”

“You’re right, m’sorry. i’m sure i’ll like it here, i’ll stay”

His nose went into the crook of her neck smelling her sweet scent, as his fingers brushed over her soft fluffy bushy tail, her voice whining as he softly raked through it with his claws. Her smaller frame resting fully against him, her ears turning at all the small sounds in their small log cabin away from civilisation. After-all it had only been a few months since he had “moved” her from her own herd village

It was no use Chris had already claimed her for himself, not to eat, but for him to love on and use. It had only taken him a few weeks for him to finally get her to soften up to him; ravaging her on their shared bed, fucking her repeatedly while she couldn’t help but grind her hips against him. Chris scratching behind her ears and tugging on her tail to finally bring her to a screaming orgasm, letting him not only mark her, but knock her up.

“Sorry Chrissy, jus want our first Chrismas to be perfect, jus miss my family” She whimpered swishing his hand away from her tail, causing him to chuckle deeply, “God you’re absolutely adorable, my own little prey. I’m your family now” His hand raking over her slightly bulging stomach, housing their first litter of babies, she was now his forever. Not even her own herd could help her now, she was the alpha’s

——-

SORRY THIS IS SO STUPID BUT THE IMPULSIVE THOUGHT TO WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THIS WAS TOO MUCH😭😭

Taglist Tags: @acornacre @keiva1000 @daddymack01 @hatsparkle @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @bval-1 @angelmather1 @lastwandastan @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @fdl305 @bxdbxtxh15 @pandaxnienke @patzammit @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @mischiefsemimanaged @uwiuwi @mdpplgtz03 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @roofwitty779 @aerangi @s-void @oliviah-25 @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @meetmeatyourworst @girl-of-multi-fandoms @cevansgurl @imboredat2am @marvelgurl @chrisevansdaughter @chrisevansangel @evanstanwhore @adoreyouusugar @stormcloudss @emvebee @annajustwrites @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiara @mirikusashes @mysticfalls01 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi

#romance #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans one shot

416 notes · View notes

theharrowing · 10 months

Text

One Day at a Time 🌙 1: I finally get to have you

Yoongi loves to help others. As a professional surrogate, he takes pride in using his body to help families bring life into this world, and love into their homes. But when his high school crush Kim Namjoon hires Yoongi to help him and his wife conceive, things get…precarious.

Or, Omega Yoongi gets bred by Alpha Namjoon and holy shit, does he fall in love.

🐺 Yoongi x Namjoon, established Namjoon x Wheein

🌙 word count: 19.9k

🌙 past acquaintances to lovers, a/b/o, mpreg, infidelity, angst, smut, eventual fluff, slash, nsfw, 21+

🌙 warnings: alpha/top Namjoon, omega/bottom Yoongi; Namjoon is married; Yoongi is a mess, and he cries a lot; a/b/o stuff (mating cycles, lots of scent stuff, wolf instincts, omega slick), angst (hormones raging, pining), a dash of ritualistic sex (it happens in the second act hehehe.)

🌙 note: hello, and welcome to my very first a/b/o fic! full notes on the index, but i wanted to thank @sailoryooons and @sweetestofchaos once more for all the help with this! reminder: infidelity is a big part of this fic, so if you’re not into that, you will not like this!!! take the warnings seriously!!! Yoongi is a mess but he's our mess and we love him. have fun!!!

🌙 written for one shot two shot fest

🌙 thanks to @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons for beta reading!

🌙 posted july 2023 | read on ao3

INDEX | NEXT

Yoongi never thought he would see Kim Namjoon again. Once he graduated from high school and the two of them went their separate ways – Yoongi to college in the countryside and Namjoon to marry the rich, pretty valedictorian – he hadn't expected their paths to cross. They had not, in fact, for nearly ten years.

The only time Namjoon ever fully acknowledged Yoongi was all those years ago in school, the week Yoongi first presented as omega. The news was a shock for everyone, most especially himself. Sure, Yoongi never saw himself as an alpha – preferring a softer, quieter life – rarely exhibiting dominant traits of any sort. But he anticipated the neutrality and normalcy of presenting as beta.

First were the hot flashes and overwhelming urge to bury himself in his softest, warmest cardigan. He hadn’t realized he was nuzzling his face into his sweater paws during math period until a classmate beside him asked a sharp, shrill, “What are you doing?” causing him to look up, confused and ashamed.

Yoongi had excused himself to the school nurse, worried he was coming down with some kind of fever, and he practically threw himself at her feet the moment a cramp radiated through his body, knocking him to his knees. He was certain he had food poisoning or some kind of stomach bug – what else could it have been? Certainly, he could not have been presenting as omega.

The nurse excused Yoongi from school through the duration of his first heat, which lasted about a week and a half. And the event itself was hell on earth, but nothing could have prepared him for returning to school. Somehow, everyone knew.

“A boy presenting as omega,” boys would say as they shoved Yoongi around, pushing him against lockers and towering over him like ravenous beasts. “That makes you worse than a girl.”

"He's pretty like a girl, though," one of the boys teased loudly.

“How does your dad feel?” they would ask in mocking tones – some of whom hadn’t yet presented, themselves. “Isn’t he ashamed of you?”

It was during lunch break that Namjoon – the tall, broad, handsome president of his class – came barreling around the corner and growled at those boys to get away from Yoongi.

“I had better not see any of you fucking whelps picking on him or any other omegas,” Namjoon roared, voice firm with authority with his chest puffed high, causing the bullies to scatter.

And although Yoongi had so much he wanted to say, when Namjoon asked if he was alright, all he could do in response was whimper a weak, “Uh-huh,” unable to find his words.

“I imagine this can’t be easy,” Namjoon finally said after a tense moment in the silent, fluorescent-lit hallway. “We can’t choose our circumstances, after all. But we can do our best with what we are given, one day at a time. Take care of yourself, Yoongi.”

And that was it; the only time his and Namjoon’s paths truly crossed. Yoongi would have been lying if he had said the event didn’t spark something inside him – the beginnings of a crush, perhaps – especially when he remembered the warm musk that wafted from the alpha with hints of sweet, kind tangerine and spicy, angry cinnamon.

But that was all it ever was…a crush. As soon as they graduated, Namjoon proposed to his girlfriend, and Yoongi left the city to pursue a life in nursing.

During the last few years, Yoongi has been working as a surrogate, assisting wealthy couples through their difficult times by lending his body to help conceive a child. Although it is always a bit awkward to be a presence in their homes, he enjoys the work. Yoongi likes to help others. The need to comfort and fix people is strong – overwhelming at times.

Naturally, when the call came to help one of the most affluent families in Seoul have a baby, Yoongi did not hesitate, nor did he know what to expect. He had, after all, left Seoul to live closer to his mom's small farmhouse near Daegu, and stopped worrying himself over who any of the wealthier families were.

So, on the car ride to town, when Yoongi read the names Kim Namjoon and Jung Wheein on the paperwork he almost did not believe his eyes. Surely, the Kim Namjoon and Jung Wheein he knew eight years ago could not be struggling with having a child. If anyone would have a happy, healthy, and typical family, he figures it would have been those two sweethearts.

“Earth to Yoongi,” a soft, stern voice calls, pulling Yoongi from his reverie.

Yoongi stands at the foot of the entrance of a rather impressive hanok on the outskirts of the city. He had spaced out during most of the ride, daydreaming about the only time he and Namjoon came face to face. Even now, standing at the man’s front door, he struggles to accept it, half expecting someone else to greet them.

“What does he do for a living?” Yoongi mutters under his breath as he joins his boss, a soft-spoken beta named Park Jimin, near the front door.

Jimin scoffs and shakes his head, causing his fluffy dark hair and shimmering silver earrings to wave back and forth from the motion, as he responds, “He’s the mayor, baby,” while placing a comforting hand on the small of Yoongi’s back – something he does when he expects Yoongi to overreact.

And overreact, he does.

“The may—“ Yoongi half-shouts before Jimin gently shushes him.

“But why—“ Yoongi continues, dropping his voice to a whisper, “—why didn’t you tell me? Jimin, why did you leave that detail out?”

“You know I love you because you’re the best, right?” Jimin asks, rubbing his palm over Yoongi’s back in circles, buttering him up before delivering the truth, as is his way.

“Right,” Yoongi responds slowly, nodding his head while his eyes lose focus on the cinnamon-brown wooden door before him.

“You’re sweet, caring, and very respectful,” Jimin continues, still very much not reaching the point. "Very discrete."

“Okay,” Yoongi huffs, “and?”

With a sigh, Jimin drops his voice lower and leans close, muttering, “I believe they asked for you specifically because you’re a man. They seem concerned about any of this reaching the media, so we have kept it all hush-hush, and I wonder if they do not want to be seen with a woman living in the house for the next year.”

“Oh.”

“The wife, she’s—“

“No, no, I get it,” Yoongi says, feeling a bit sullen.

Being chosen because he is a man is always a bit disheartening. Typically, as far as Yoongi can tell, it comes from the wife worrying that their husband may develop feelings for their surrogate, despite the process typically being a simple matter of collecting sperm and egg from each party and having them placed into Yoongi’s uterus using an in vitro process. At most, Yoongi has to stay in the homestead to carry the baby to term, sleeping with bedding that smells of the alpha of the house. Infidelity has never been an issue. In fact, most households treat Yoongi as if he hardly exists until the baby is finally born.

Yoongi performs his tasks dutifully and with the utmost care and respect, and for once, it would be nice to be recognized for his skills and abilities, and not for his gender. But, Yoongi grins and bears it. He is simply happy to be able to help.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi nods, feeling as ready as he could be, at this point.

Jimin removes his hand from Yoongi’s back, takes a step forward, and knocks on the door. And then they wait. A homestead this size must take a while to traverse through, and Yoongi crosses his hands over his tummy and twiddles his thumbs in anticipation, wondering if Namjoon will even recognize him.

When the door opens, a tall unfamiliar man with wide, curious eyes and short, somewhat wavy dark brown hair greets them with a bow of his head. For a split moment, Yoongi almost wonders if this could be Namjoon – if the names are merely coincidence. But then Wheein – the Jung Wheein Yoongi remembers from all those years ago, with long, dark hair and curious almond eyes – pops up from behind the man and smiles widely, waving them in.

Jimin enters first, then Yoongi, kicking off his sneakers and following as Wheein leads the mystery man, Jimin, and Yoongi through a foyer, past a kitchen, and into what looks like a study. The four of them take a seat on soft purple cushions around a large, low wooden table with a teapot and four cups in the center, with Wheein across from Yoongi and Jimin to his right.

“Min Yoongi,” Wheein beams as she sits high on her knees and reaches over the low table, emitting a calming bouquet of lavender.

Yoongi offers his hands to her, smiling as she takes them and squeezes them between both of hers. There is an unmissable sadness in her eyes, but she smiles widely as she pats his hands before letting them go.

“When I read your name on the list of potential surrogates, I just knew it had to be you,” she continues, taking Yoongi by surprise. He and Wheein have never, to his knowledge, said a word to one another.

“You did?” Yoongi asks, deep voice trembling slightly as he settles his hands over his knees.

Wheein nods enthusiastically while the man to Yoongi’s left begins to pour tea for the four of them.

“I just had a feeling. You went into nursing, right? You like to help others?”

With a demure nod, Yoongi says, “Yes,” surprised to find Wheein remembers him, and that she knows details of his life. He dreads the thought that Namjoon might, as well.

“I just knew you would be perfect for us,” she continues as her eyes travel to the man sitting at Yoongi’s left. “Don’t you think so, Jeonggukie?”

The man nods his head once, eyes fixed on Jimin as he mutters, “Yes, Wheein-ssi.”

“This is our in-house help, Jeon Jeongguk,” Wheein says, patting the hand of Jeongguk, who responds, “Lovely to meet you,” without taking his eyes off Jimin.

Yoongi mutters a greeting under his breath but does not bother trying to get the man’s attention; he is more than aware of the effect Jimin has on others. Instead, Yoongi picks up his small ceramic tea cup and holds it to his lips, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip. The faintly-earthy taste of herbs and leaves covers his tongue with warmth, instantly soothing at least some of his worries. Certainly not all of them.

“Sorry Namjoon couldn’t join us,” Wheein says with a hint of annoyance in her voice, cracking a smile that looks forced and does not reach far. Earthy, bitter hints of patchouli hang in the air as she chuckles under her breath as she mutters, “Gods forbid he leaves his precious office for one fucking meeting with our surrogate.”

Yoongi shifts on his knees and takes another sip from the cup. Meanwhile, everyone around him lifts their cups to drink, and he is relieved to see Jimin’s spell on Jeongguk seems at least temporarily be broken, allowing the three of them to have a conversation with Jeongguk present and quiet.

“I figure that for the first week, you’ll stay by my side and bond with me a little,” Wheein begins, surprising Yoongi with how suddenly she wants to get down to business, “and then we’ll knock you up and have you stay in a guesthouse that is scented like Namjoon so that the baby knows who his or her daddy is.”

“Pretty standard stuff,” Jimin mutters beside him, and Yoongi smiles as he nods along.

Wheein’s candor feels welcoming to Yoongi. The last two couples he worked with were rather depressed and embarrassed to need assistance with having a baby. It is his hope that, in the next ten or eleven months, he and Wheein can become close friends, making his stay in the large homestead a little less lonely.

"Do you remember Namjoon at all?" Wheein asks eagerly.

Yoongi glances over the teacup that he holds near his mouth, breathing in its comforting aroma, and he screws up his face just slightly enough to seem impassive as he shrugs and says, "The name sounds familiar. Perhaps when I see him, I will remember."

A lie, of course. If Yoongi thinks hard enough, he can remember precisely what Namjoon smelled like the day they spoke. He thinks, faintly, that Namjoon may have even had a mole or two on one of his cheeks, and has never forgotten his dimples.

"Do you need some time to consider the job, or would you like to move in tonight?” Wheein asks once the four of them have had a chance to discuss specifics a little more and finish the pot of tea. “We will want to go over a few specifications on the contract once everyone is here, but it should be pretty standard."

"I can move in right away," Yoongi says without giving it any thought. The sooner they get started, the sooner it can be all over with, he reasons. He already has a suitcase packed and waiting in the car.

"Wonderful," Wheein says as she stands and waits for Yoongi to do the same.

Once Yoongi is on his feet, Jimin bows and wishes him well, saying they will meet again tomorrow when Namjoon is around to go over the contract. Jeongguk leads Jimin back out to the front door, standing quite close and muttering quietly as the two of them leave the room together.

"I can't wait for the two of us to become best friends," Wheein says sweetly as Yoongi steps from the table and joins her at her side, allowing her to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him into a side hug.

The smile that creeps over Yoongi's lips is genuine, and he allows himself to be hugged, lifting an arm to delicately caress her back for just a moment. He familiarizes himself with her scent of lavender with hints of patchouli – sweet with an undercurrent of spice and wet soil.

Wheein leads Yoongi into a large kitchen and sits him at the tall white marble counter. Yoongi marvels at the blend of traditional and modern, with the general foundation of the hanok resembling what it may have centuries ago despite the marble counters and stainless steel appliances.

"Let's make a list of all the things you love to eat, especially when you are in heat and when you are pregnant."

Although Yoongi cannot imagine why he would need to accommodate a heat cycle, he rattles off everything he can think of, making sure bases are covered. There is a chance that his pregnancy cravings will be similar to those he gets while in heat, once they inject the little cub cells into his uterus and the growing begins.

He also makes note of some herbs that he needs to avoid in order to not counteract the heat-blockers he takes, and Wheein smiles to herself as she circles ginger, ginseng, and sage while adding three large exclamation marks next to the words to signify what he must avoid.

About an hour passes with Yoongi and Wheein chatting in the kitchen about food, being pregnant, and anything else Wheein thinks of. She is great company, offering Yoongi white wine and keeping his glass topped off as they talk. He feels hopeful about his stay in her house, looking forward to getting to know her more as she opens up.

And then Namjoon returns home, and things…shift. It is subtle, but noticeable. Wheein's voice quiets when the front door opens, and she keeps her eyes on the foyer once the sounds of shoes getting kicked off thuds one after the other.

"Someone here?" a deep, familiar voice calls, causing Yoongi's skin to break out in goosebumps, and Namjoon steps around a corner, stopping in his tracks when he meets Yoongi's gaze.

Namjoon is just as tall as Yoongi remembers, and quite a bit more built, chest and arms bulging against the thin white shirt that covers him, which is tucked into fitted grey slacks. His hair is overgrown into a bit of a dark mullet, and he shakes it from his warm, sharp eyes, only for it to fall back in place again.

"Oh," he says. "It's you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, lifting a hand to wave, but Namjoon mutters, "Should the two of you really be drinking?" while walking in the opposite direction, toward a hallway that Yoongi surmises must lead to the master suite, or perhaps to an office. The familiar scent of warm musk wafts through the air, with faint hints of cinnamon, and as soon as it is there, it is gone again.

Wheein lets out a petulant, "Humph!" and grabs the bottle of wine, dumping the rest of its contents between their two glasses as if in protest to Namjoon's question.

Then, as soon as the man of the house is down the hallway and disappears into a doorway off to the left, her face brightens once more, and she continues asking Yoongi about childbirth as if nothing had happened. Wheein is a curious woman, eager to know every gritty detail from cell growth to carrying a baby to term. And although Yoongi finds the process a little disgusting, he gladly answers all of her questions.

Tipsy from drinking and only having snacked on crackers and tiny slabs of cheese, Wheein decides that the night is over once the glasses of wine are empty. She takes Yoongi by the crook of an elbow and leads him over to the hall in which Namjoon disappeared.

"Bedrooms are here," Wheein says, waving her hand in the general direction of five doors – two on either side of the hallway and one at the far end. "That one on the end—" she points straight ahead, "—is the bathroom. And this—" she places her palm on the first door on the right and presses it open, "—is your bedroom. The bedding smells faintly like Namjoon so that you can get used to it. Hopefully you don't find it too unpleasant. In the morning, Park Jimin-ssi will return and we will go over the contract."

Yoongi nods along, smiling while staring ahead at the bathroom door, trying to imagine which door on the left Namjoon went through. Not that it is any of his business – nor should he care – but he is…curious. The Namjoon he encountered all those years ago seems so different from the terse man who Yoongi hardly caught sight or whiff of tonight.

"S-sounds good," Yoongi finally responds, and Wheein pulls him into a half-hug from the side before letting him go and walking straight across the hall, opening that door just enough to slip inside, and closing it softly behind, taking the lavender with hints of patchouli with her.

Yoongi hesitates a moment – hovers in place and holds his breath as if to listen for any sound to come from Namjoon through that door. But all is still, and Yoongi shifts left to right on his feet before turning to the guest room and feeling around the wall for a light switch.

The room is furnished with a bed, bedside table, dresser and mirror, and a wall-mounted television. Beside the dresser is Yoongi's suitcase, which he surmises Jeongguk must have brought inside, and above the suitcase is a large window. Yoongi approaches his suitcase, lays it down, and unzips it, finding a set of light blue pajamas, and running his fingertips over the soft flannel material as he looks around, taking in the sight of his temporary home.

How did he end up here, he wonders. Standing in the mayor's home – Kim Namjoon's home – wine drunk with Jung Wheein, the valedictorian who Yoongi was certain until this point had never been aware of his existence.

As he sheds his clothing and gets dressed in the pajamas, sleep begins to claw at Yoongi, pulling his subconscious down, and making him want nothing more than to crawl under the covers. He picks his clothing up from the floor, approaches the dresser, and tosses the garments into a small pile in the corner.

Outside the room, he thinks he hears the sound of a floorboard creek, and he stands still, listening for more movement. Seconds pass, heavy and full of anticipation, and Yoongi could swear the scent of tangerine and warm musk fills his senses, making him sway slightly where he stands.

But then, he reasons that it must just be the bedding that Wheein said would hold Namjoon's scent, and he brings his drifting thoughts to a stop, making his way to the bed and pulling the pale yellow covers aside to climb under.

Only in his wildest dreams would Namjoon be in the hallway, filling the space with more of his calming scent, and Yoongi tells himself that he needs to snap out of it and come back to reality before he gets too caught up pining for a married man he hardly knows.

But, for now, he shuts his eyes and allows himself to imagine.

Yoongi is barely alert, sitting at the tall dining table nursing a steaming cup of black coffee when Namjoon enters the room in what Yoongi surmises is his standard work uniform of a white button-up tucked into grey slacks, taking a seat to his right. The coffee is peculiar, giving off an herbal scent that Yoongi cannot quite place, but it is not unwelcoming, and he gulps some down, feeling his nerves spike.

Wheein sits in front of him, and to his left, Jimin is present and far too perky and alert considering the ungodly hour, wearing a pair of wire-framed glasses that rest at the end of his nose and a white button-up tucked into black slacks. The house-help Jeongguk, who is dressed in all-black casual clothing, busies himself in the kitchen.

"Now that we are all here," Namjoon begins, voice hoarse and far deeper than Yoongi remembers, causing the little hairs on his arms to stand to attention, "we have the final draft of the contract to look over."

Namjoon slides a small stack of papers to the center of the table, which Jimin shifts forward to collect, and their scents collide somewhere in the middle – warm musk, lilacs, tangerines, and a salty hint of sea breeze. Yoongi feels a wave of dizziness hit him, and he sits back, letting his coffee cup thunk a little too hard against the restored wooden table.

A delicate hand reaches over, tapping him on the wrist and adding tangy patchouli to the ever-engulfing blend of aromas, and Yoongi's eyes snap upward to find Wheein smiling with her brows knit.

"Are you alright, my dear?" she asks, and Yoongi nods, swallows a lump, and mutters, "Fine. S-still waking up, I guess."

Heat prickles under every inch of skin that is covered with clothing, making Yoongi shift uncomfortably and yearn for cool air or a nice cold shower. It is almost as if a heat is coming on, which is impossible, because of the medication he takes to block it.

"The only order of business in this contract that should differ from how your company ordinarily proceeds," Namjoon continues, ignoring the exchange between Yoongi and Wheein, "is the method of becoming pregnant."

At this, Yoongi sits alert and turns to Jimin, who is looking over the contract with too trained of an expression. Something is absolutely off, and Yoongi's heart begins to pound wildly in his chest.

"D-different method?" Yoongi asks, feeling as if the room is spinning and too fucking warm.

"My family is very…let's say…traditional," Namjoon clarifies, and Yoongi turns to him with wide, worried eyes, only to find that he is staring ahead at the table with a somewhat distraught look on his face. "Any insemination and childbirth practices need to be performed as rituals to the old gods and the new…if you catch my drift."

At this, Namjoon's eyes lift, but to Jimin, across from him. Yoongi turns sharply and finds his boss looking up at Namjoon before his eyes trail to Yoongi. A cloying mix of calming aromas wafts from every side of Yoongi, and he practically gags on it.

"Yoongi, baby," Jimin utters softly – sweetly, as if he knows that the information he has for Yoongi is going to send him into a tailspin. Only, Yoongi is already in a tailspin because he has just been told that, in order to perform the duties which he has been hired to perform, he and Namjoon are going to have to— "Are you still with us?"

"Did you…do something to my coffee?" Yoongi asks against his better judgment, feeling nausea creep at a rapid pace, clouding his vision in the corners.

At this, Wheein slams her hands on the table and stands, sending her chair grinding backward while shouting, "What did you just say?"

"I'm s— I'm sorry," Yoongi tries, placing his palms face-down on the table and gripping tightly to the edge. He feels like he might vomit, and he needs to find his way out of this conversation.

"How dare you accuse us of such a thing!" Wheein continues, voice fading in and out as if Yoongi's head is bobbing above and below water.

"Sir," Jeongguk speaks softly, placing a hand on Yoongi's shoulder that feels too hot to the touch. "Could this reaction possibly be from the herbal blend?"

"H-herbal blend?" Yoongi asks, feeling panic quake through him.

Yoongi's mouth feels terribly dry, and he picks up the coffee, pulling it to his lips and gulping the tepid bitter liquid down. Perhaps he should ask for water instead, but his body is drenched, his mouth is parched, and he can hardly form his thoughts coherently enough to turn them into words. He can practically feel a new layer of sweat break over his forehead, and he sets the cup down with shaking hands while reaching up to push the overgrown dark brown hair away from his forehead.

Jeongguk hums and says, "The herbal blend that Wheein-ssi likes me to add to her coffee and tea contains extract of ginger, ginseng, and sage. I saw that on your list and assumed you would like more than what was added to your tea last night, so I gave you twice the amount."

The sweat that covers Yoongi goes cold, and he sits up suddenly, knocking the wooden chair onto its back in the process, glancing up at the occupants of the table to see if perhaps this is some joke they are playing on him. Jimin appears horrified, Namjoon stares down at the wooden table, and Wheein's eyes widen. She looks to Jeongguk with knit brows, shaking her head in small movements, and something in her expression suggests he should not have said what he just said.

"But, Wheein-ssi, your list—"

"Jeonggukah, those were items Yoongi was not supposed to consume!"

"But we want him to go into heat, so he becomes pregnant," Jeongguk continues innocently, forcing Yoongi to spin on the balls of his feet to stumble out of the room.

The air is stifling, the room is spinning, and Yoongi is going to vomit any minute. He fumbles toward the hallway, stepping through the threshold just in time for the corridor to stretch impossibly long. Before he knows it, he is on his hands and knees, barely aware of the feeling of his impact against the floor, doing his best to crawl to where he needs to go.

"Alright, you," Jimin's voice greets Yoongi, causing tears to well in his eyes. "Let's get you on your feet."

Yoongi feels embarrassed, having made a terrible impression on the family for which he has been hired to surrogate. Surely, someone like Namjoon is not going to want a weak, sniveling omega in his home, carrying his child. And the idea that Yoongi will have to do everything the traditional way sends a new set of fears quaking through him.

Despite his line of work, Yoongi has never had sex with an alpha. He has never experienced a knot, nor has he been marked in any way. Everyone at the clinic assured him that folks these days do not tend to have traditional pregnancies, so Yoongi assumed it would not be an issue. Or, at the very least, he assumed the conversation would take place before he was sat in their home, drinking their herbal-infused coffee.

Yoongi smells the musk before he feels two large hands lift him, and he yelps when he is suddenly up on his feet with his arm draped over the muscular shoulders of Namjoon, who is crouched forward to accommodate his height.

"Bathroom is straight ahead," Namjoon mutters, and Jimin scurries forward, opening the door and switching on a light while Namjoon assists Yoongi in walking down the hallway.

The musk is far more overpowering than anything Yoongi has experienced, radiating from Namjoon's neck and armpit, blanketing him in warm intoxication, and Yoongi leans his head to the side, eager for more. He wonders what Namjoon's sweat must taste like, licking his lips at the thought.

But then Namjoon gets him through the doorway and maneuvers him against the sink with his butt resting against cold marble, and he slides away, taking much of the musk with him, only allowing hints laced with cinnamon and tangerine to linger.

Yoongi can hear rustling – the opening and closing of a cabinet door and the running of water behind him – all while the blend of scents from Namjoon and Jimin mingle and dance through the small space. Yoongi's eyes rest closed, and he breathes deeply in through his nose, letting the air escape shakily through his mouth.

"I didn't mean to accuse—" Yoongi begins, but Jimin shushes him at the same time a cold cloth is pressed against his forehead.

"I imagine all of this is…a lot for you," Namjoon says softly, taking Yoongi by surprise. He expected Jimin to be the one with calming words, not the gruff alpha who hasn't so much as looked him in the eyes since their so-called meeting began.

Yoongi keeps his eyes closed, determined not to ruin the moment. If this is the only way he can get the man to speak to him, then so be it.

"I really like Wheein-ssi," Yoongi continues, knitting his brows beneath the cold cloth. It feels nice and pulls him from the jumble of physical and emotional overstimulation, grounding him somewhat while his own scent of chamomile engulfs and calms him. "I hope that I didn't hurt her feelings."

"We'll talk more once you're feeling better," Namjoon says.

Yoongi wants to open his eyes and look at the man – really search his expression for how he must be feeling – but he keeps his eyes closed and lets out a deep exhale.

"If you change your mind about doing this—" Namjoon continues, and Yoongi shakes his head.

Long ago, when Yoongi was too weak to stand up for himself, Namjoon was the one who helped him. Namjoon was his beacon of hope in a dark, confusing time, and Yoongi wants to repay him in any way he can – in the only way he can.

"I won't change my mind," is all he can bring himself to say, eager to keep his emotions at bay, lest a spike in pheromones tattles on him. At some point, he and Namjoon are going to need to have a conversation.

There is the question of why Wheein never said anything last night, when she and Yoongi were making their list. She had to have known that the three ingredients that Yoongi stressed he could not have were in the herbal blend that he presumes has been added to both his tea and his coffee. Was she hoping to force Yoongi into a heat cycle as soon as possible?

Whatever the reason, Yoongi is concerned, but he is certain that her intent could not have been malicious, and so he lets it go. Perhaps they will discuss it down the line, but for now, he just wants to lie down. He has no idea how long it may take for the herbal mixture to induce a heat, and he is not eager to be standing in the bathroom with his boss and an alpha who he hardly knows, when the time comes.

The herbal blend causes Yoongi's entire system to go haywire quickly. Perhaps it is because he only allows for a heat to come after giving birth before continuing on the blockers – about once a year – making his body desperate for a cycle, but he hardly gets through the afternoon before every inch of him yearns for Namjoon.

The alpha's scent on his bedding drives Yoongi wild, and he rubs his face against his pillow almost frantically, letting out soft whimpers and growls when it is not enough to stave his desires. There is a part of him that wonders if anyone might be able to overhear him, and shame simmers just beneath his skin. But he is so overcome with desperation that he cannot bring himself to care very much.

Yoongi must fall asleep at some point, because a light knock at the door rouses him, causing him to sit up with a start, groaning and wiping drool from his chin.

"Yoongi-ssi?" Jeongguk's voice calls through the door. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"

Although Yoongi would like nothing more than to eat something, and to sit in the presence of Namjoon’s inviting scent, leaving the room and being present in front of everyone feels daunting, at best. Overwhelming. He is not ashamed of his body's natural functions, but he feels hesitant to encounter people he hardly knows when his hormones are running amuck.

Another soft knock comes, and Yoongi clears his throat before hoarsely shouting, "N-no thank you."

After a pause, there is another knock at the door, but this one sounds different – more purposeful.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon calls. "Can I come in?"

Suddenly, faced with the prospect of being in Namjoon's presence makes Yoongi panic, and he curls in on himself, tugging the yellow comforter over his body and up to his chin.

"I—" Yoongi calls back, eyes searching the room aimlessly while he tries to think of something to say. "Now isn't the best time."

Yoongi is unsure if he hears a sigh on the other side of the door, and he listens for an indication that Namjoon has walked away. To his chagrin, Namjoon responds.

"Are you indecent? Can I at least crack the door open?"

"Fine," Yoongi replies, screwing his eyes closed to take a deep, fortifying breath.

The door opens a few inches, and with the head of the bed against the same wall, Namjoon only has to peek in a little for their gazes to meet. Although it is subtle, Yoongi sees Namjoon's nostrils flare and eyes widen.

"I'm—" Yoongi feels apologetic and shy, "s-sorry, I guess my heat has come."

"Don't apologize," Namjoon responds, voice sounding a bit hazier than Yoongi is used to. "Just wanted to make sure you don't need anything. I can have Jeongguk bring you some food and a cup of tea. Do you usually take any medications?"

"I don’t usually take medicines," Yoongi responds softly. Ordinarily, he gets the typical hot flashes and neediness; cramping is rare. He tends to it by holing up in his apartment and drinking herbal teas that quell some of the more primal instincts; he has no idea what it is like to go into heat surrounded by the alluring stench of an alpha. "Do you have any hibiscus tea?"

Namjoon's face disappears, and then Jeongguk appears, making Yoongi clench onto his blanket in disappointment.

"Hibiscus tea, got it." Jeongguk responds. "I can make you a pot of kimchi soup if you would like?"

Although Yoongi would rather turn away the offer of anything more than a cup of tea, already feeling like a burden in someone else's home, the thought of the tangy, rich broth and a bowl of steamed rice makes his stomach growl loudly.

"That would be nice," Yoongi responds, squeezing his eyes tight to the sound of the door closing quietly. "Thank you."

Yoongi has no idea how long it takes for Jeongguk to return. It feels like only seconds pass, yet some of them could have been stretched for eons. The atmosphere around Yoongi is thick with tense confusion and desire, and he has no fucking clue how to proceed.

A knock at the door startles Yoongi, and he sits up, pushing and kicking the yellow comforter away, embarrassed by how his body oozes with the heady scent of pomegranate, tangy and clinging to the air with trace amounts of chamomile. His limbs wobble, heavy and shaking like a tree caught in a storm, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath once he is on his feet.

"Just a second," Yoongi grumbles, adjusting the white tee that has come untucked from his fitted light blue jeans. The materials cling to him, and he avoids checking his reflection in the mirror across the room.

Yoongi opens the door a crack, just enough to see through. He does not miss the way Jeongguk's nostrils flare and eyes widen as he takes in the state of Yoongi. And although he feels embarrassed suddenly to be perceived this way, he swallows a lump and opens the door further to reach for the tray in Jeongguk's hands.

"Why don't you let me bring it in?" Jeongguk offers, making Yoongi feel even more put on the spot than before. But Jeongguk has a good point. After all, the tray contains two items storing hot liquid, and Yoongi is just jittery enough to make the task extremely precarious.

Yoongi nods and grumbles, "Oh–okay," as he takes a step back and allows Jeongguk to enter the room, closing the door quickly behind him. He is not eager for Namjoon or Wheein to smell him in this state – not until he can shower.

"Your heat must have come on fast," Jeongguk states evenly as he walks to the bed and places the tray on top. It is wooden, with four small legs, creating a nice little table atop the ruffled comforter. With him, a light floral scent carries through the space.

"Yeah," Yoongi responds sheepishly, hugging his arms around himself. "I use the same herbal mixture to induce a heat once a year, and typically only one cup of tea does the trick."

Jeongguk turns with wide eyes, repeating, "Once a year?"

"Typically, my job is done in vitro," Yoongi explains, eyes trailing around the room, unable to settle on one spot. "I find that it is best if my hormones are kept under control. I only induce a heat once the baby has been delivered, to help my body restart, and then I take heat-blockers once the cycle ends."

"Ahhh," Jeongguk mutters. "Well, I am quite used to helping Wheein-ssi through her heats, so if there is anything you need, don't be shy."

Yoongi is surprised by this information. Shouldn't the alpha of the house be helping Wheein? Jeongguk – who, Yoongi surmises, must be a beta – seems like lovely help, but is he really capable of helping Wheein with all of her needs? The man hardly has a scent, only radiating hints of something sweet and floral that Yoongi cannot place.

"Thank you, Jeongguk-ssi," Yoongi responds with a bow of his head. "I appreciate all you have done for me, already."

Silence hangs, and when Yoongi glances up, it seems as if Jeongguk has more that he would like to say. He stares ahead, clearly processing something, with his lips hanging slack. But then he blinks heavily and gives his head a little shake before saying, "Also, when you are ready to, Namjoon would like to meet with you to go over the contract and discuss a timeline."

"Oh," Yoongi says, realizing they never finalized it earlier. "Yes, of course."

"His phone number is on a little slip of paper, sitting beside your rice," Jeongguk instructs with one more bow of his head. "Please text him at your earliest convenience."

Texting Namjoon rather than knocking on a door seems somewhat silly, but Yoongi does not argue. He supposes he is grateful to have a simple way to get in touch with him that also allows for there to be some distance.

Jeongguk exits the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and Yoongi lets out a deep breath and rubs his sweaty palms against his jeans. The smell of the soup and tea dance beautifully, covering enough of Namjoon's lingering musk to allow Yoongi's head to clear as he approaches the bedside table and picks up his phone.

He settles slowly onto the bed, careful not to jostle the tray, and finds the small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. The numbers are clean with very straight lines and circular loops, and Yoongi lifts it before he can think better of it, sniffing the paper, picking up hints of tangerine and cinnamon. So this is Namjoon's handwriting, Yoongi thinks, inspecting it closer. It looks nice.

A soft haze settles over Yoongi – a humming that vibrates just below his skin – and he takes a slow breath as he begins to punch Namjoon's number into his phone. He considers all the things he could say to the man, worrying in circles over whether he should apologize for his entire existence. In the end, he settles for something simple.

Yoongi Hello, Namjoon-ssi. This is Yoongi. Jeongguk-ssi mentioned you wanted to talk with me.

With a tremble in his hands, he sets his phone down and begins to eat. Jeongguk brought kimchi soup, rice, glass noodles, and a cup of hibiscus tea, and everything is flavored perfectly – savory with tangy and sweet notes here and there, the way mom makes it. Although the soup and tea are both hot, they soothe Yoongi, putting his hot flashes at bay. He is nearly done with his meal and feeling much calmer than before, when his phone vibrates.

Namjoon Yoongi-ssi, I would like to meet at your earliest convenience. No rush; eat first.

Yoongi has to scoff at how stuffy Namjoon seems, even over text. He supposes he is the one who set the tone in the first place, but he has to wonder if the detached alpha would text the same way, regardless. Yoongi nibbles on the inside of his cheek, deciding what would be best. On one hand, he hates to keep someone waiting, but on the other…he cannot decide whether he wants to face Namjoon smelling the way he does.

Yoongi Perhaps after I freshen up a bit? A fever hit earlier, and I am not at my best.

Before Yoongi has a chance to set his phone down, it vibrates; he is surprised by how quickly Namjoon responds.

Namjoon Of course. Take your time! I usually go for late jogs, so if I am not in the house, I'll be out back. You are welcome to join me if you would like.

Namjoon's hanok is situated at the end of a suburban area, with enough land between his place and the nearby houses to have seclusion. Perfect for an alpha who likes to let off some steam in a bit of nature. Although Yoongi does not jog often, the primal part of him loves to get lost in the thick of trees, listening to branches crunch underfoot while he exerts himself and lets his worries breeze away. Perhaps jogging with Namjoon is just what he needs.

Yoongi A jog would be nice. I'll shower now and join you in just a bit.

Namjoon Sounds good.

Yoongi makes quick work of finishing his food, suddenly feeling excited at the prospect of getting some fresh air. He grabs a pair of black joggers and a black tee, and leaves the room, turning briefly to see Wheein and Jeongguk sharing a glass of wine in the kitchen. He wonders if Namjoon is already getting dressed and waiting, and scurries to the bathroom at the end of the hall, closing the door tight behind him and switching on the light.

Yoongi peels the sweat-drenched clothing away and drops them into a pile on the floor, then figures out the knobs of the shower, setting the water nice and temperate – not too hot – before slipping in. The water is a warm embrace, instantly shedding some of Yoongi's anxieties, and he smiles to himself, tipping his head back with his eyes closed, allowing the steady spray to wash over him.

After a few calming moments, Yoongi peeks his head from the shower curtain to find small cloths folded on a shelf at eye level and grabs one, then assesses the bottles for body wash. To his surprise, everything smells like chamomile or tangerine, making Yoongi chuckle. He wonders if it is a coincidence or if they planned for this. Had Namjoon remembered what Yoongi smelled like, after all this time?

Yoongi scrubs his body with chamomile, then washes and conditions his hair with tangerine. Once he is satisfied, he stands under the stream with his eyes closed for another twenty seconds or so, then shuts off the water, pokes an arm past the shower curtain, and grabs a large towel from the same eye level shelf. He dries off quickly, then changes into his clean clothing and shoots a text off to Namjoon.

Yoongi Just finished showering. Are you inside or outside?

Namjoon I’m still inside. Meet in the hallway?

Yoongi See you there.

Yoongi brushes his teeth and slaps some moisturizer on his face – beauty products courtesy of Namjoon and Wheein – then hangs up his towel and grabs his discarded clothing, which reek of tangy pomegranate. He scrunches his nose, tired of smelling it.

When he exits the shower, Namjoon is standing in the hallway, and the sight of him makes Yoongi halt in place, nearly tripping over his feet. He wears a tight black tank top and black athletic shorts that stop mid-thigh. And oh, Namjoon's thighs…He knew Namjoon was ripped, but seeing him in athletic wear is something else altogether.

Yoongi has to force his eyes up and tell himself that staring is impolite. But the man is built like a sturdy tree that Yoongi finds himself wanting to climb — a dangerous thought, and one he brushes off as a product of his heat.

He is relieved to find Namjoon turning his attention from the phone in his hands to him only after he finishes ogling him, and Yoongi clears his throat quietly before making his way down the hall.

"Just gonna toss these clothes into the room quick," Yoongi mutters as he approaches.

Namjoon regards him with a brief nod, then continues typing on his phone, and Yoongi opens the door to the room and slips in, tossing the clothing toward the bed and grabbing a pair of sneakers before returning, doing his best to keep his stench of pheromones and sweat trapped.

When he returns, Namjoon is standing straight up with his arms at his sides, and his head tipped slightly back. His eyes are closed, and he appears to be taking a deep breath in through his nose, filling his lungs. Yoongi wonders if he does this to get into a proper headspace to run – calmly intake oxygen to help his muscles relax.

But when Namjoon opens his eyes and looks at Yoongi, his pupils are blown wide and there is something burning in his gaze that causes Yoongi to instinctively take a step back. The way Namjoon looks at him makes Yoongi feel vulnerable and exposed. If he didn't know any better, he would think the alpha wants to eat him.

Namjoon heavy-blinks and clears his throat, dispelling the tension between them, and turns to exit the hallway. To the left, through the main living room, is a door that appears to lead to the back of the property. Namjoon approaches, bends to pick up a pair of shoes beside the exit, and begins putting them on, while Yoongi slides into his sneakers, staying a good six feet or so away from Namjoon, trying his best not to get too much of a whiff of him, breathing primarily through his mouth.

By the time Namjoon straightens out, Yoongi is finishing up tying his second shoe. In the other room, Yoongi can hear Wheein and Jeongguk laughing together. He finds it a bit strange that Namjoon and Wheein do not seem to communicate much, but assumes that is how it is, sometimes. He wonders if being unable to conceive has put a strain on their marriage before deciding it is none of his business.

"Ready?" Namjoon asks, voice deeper and breathier than Yoongi remembers, making him stand alert.

"Yeah," Yoongi responds, sliding his hands into the pockets of his joggers as Namjoon opens the back door and steps outside, audibly taking a deep breath and sighing.

Yoongi nudges the door with his elbow on his way out, then half-turns to pull it closed quietly. The sun has already begun to set, painting the sky orange and pink, and there is a chill in the air that makes Yoongi scrunch his shoulders to his ears momentarily as he steps out onto the small wooden deck. It feels nice, and he rolls his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath of dirt, grass, and citrus.

"Shit," Namjoon mutters under his breath, turning back toward the house.

Yoongi hums and looks at Namjoon, feeling momentarily worried that something may be wrong.

"The contract," Namjoon clarifies, shifting in place as if he is unsure where he wants to be. "I wanted to go over the terms and finalize everything, but I left it in the office."

"Ah," Yoongi says. He wonders if having a paper contract outside while they intend to exercise is practical in the first place, and suggests an alternative. "What if we discuss the terms, and when we return inside, we can sign it? I assume you have gone over everything, and I can give it a quick read."

Namjoon knits his brow, considering Yoongi's proposition, then nods. "Yeah," he says, eyes on the wooden floor of the deck rather than meeting Yoongi's gaze, "that sounds good."

Yoongi nods and takes in the scenery around him. Behind Namjoon's hanok, the land opens up to a large yard with an inground pool. Past the pool ahead is a wooded area, with thick trees and brush, and to the left is a small bungalow that he surmises must be the guesthouse. Yoongi wonders how much of the land belongs to Namjoon; how far they can run.

"This path zig-zags through the trees, out the other side," Namjoon explains as if reading his mind. "I like to run the path, and continue along the residential area on the other side, to a park that is a few miles away. We don't have to run the entire length…whatever you feel like."

"Sounds good," Yoongi responds, waiting for Namjoon to lead the way.

Namjoon walks ahead, down the three steps that lead to a path that wraps around the pool to the right and into the trees, slowly picking up his pace. Yoongi follows, then steps in pace with Namjoon. It is a leisurely jog, and Yoongi instantly feels a calm rush over him at the feeling of the evening wind in his shoulder-length hair, though he wishes he had brought a hair tie.

"The main clause in the contract is that we have to actually, er—" Namjoon begins, cutting himself off until only the sound of gunite underfoot can be heard.

"Procreate," Yoongi offers, cringing instantly at his choice of word.

Luckily, it makes Namjoon chuckle, lightening the mood. "Yes, procreate."

Silence falls between them, and they approach the edge of the wooded area before Namjoon asks, "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Yoongi takes a moment to answer, curious how forthcoming he should be with Namjoon. He wonders if it is necessary for the alpha to know that he has never taken a knot before. Underfoot, the path becomes dirt with twigs and leaves crunching as they begin to jog past the edge of the trees.

"Not uncomfortable," Yoongi says, eyes on the path, which is more than wide enough for two. "I was a bit surprised, since that is different from how things are typically done these days, but I respect the old ways just as much as the new. As long as you and your wife are comfortable."

For the briefest of moments, Yoongi could swear Namjoon's cinnamon scent bitterly stings the air, but just as soon as it arrives, it is gone. It is not uncommon for the tangier or sharper of the smells someone has to be strongest when they are feeling heightened levels of irritation, anger, annoyance, depression, and so on. Briefly, Yoongi worries whether something he said bothered Namjoon.

"I am comfortable as long as you are," Namjoon responds somewhat tersely as they take a left turn and the path straightens out before turning right up ahead.

Again, silence falls, and Yoongi listens to the scurry of rodents and the soft calls of birds. To the right, through the wooded area, Yoongi can see more of the path. It appears to snake through the trees from right to left to right again with wooded areas in between. It is peaceful, and Yoongi is grateful that Namjoon invited him. For the first time since his heat began, he feels calm and in control of his own body.

Once his heat fully hits, he will not be so mobile. The first wave is a bit of a warning, ebbing and flowing before coming in full swing. In a day or two, he expects to lock himself in that small bedroom and hide away from everyone until it passes, or at least until they mate. Although omegas are most fertile while in heat, he and Namjoon still need to discuss a timeline for everything.

"Is there a good time for us to…" Yoongi trails off, taking the curve to the right and continuing in step beside Namjoon. He squeezes his eyes shut for a split second and curses himself for being so awkward; he is an adult, discussing a contractual agreement with another adult. Just because there is sex involved, does not mean he should struggle to discuss it.

"For us to…?" Namjoon asks when the silence draws on a little long.

The thought of laying sprawled out beneath Namjoon, looking up at him while his hair clings to his sweaty forehead flashes in Yoongi's mind, and all at once, he trips over his own feet and topples forward, knees and palms meeting the ground before he corrects himself. The tumble is small and hardly disrupts their pace, but Namjoon is close in an instant, filling his senses with tangerines and warm, calming musk.

"Are you alright?" Namjoon asks, voice low and soft, giving Yoongi goosebumps.

Yoongi hums in response, eager for Namjoon to not be quite so close, despite how much his body longs for him to touch him. They run in silence, snaking around to the left and to the right again, while Yoongi attempts to clear his head, and he is grateful for Namjoon's patience while he gathers his thoughts. Once they start reaching the end of the path, Yoongi takes in a fortifying breath.

"What I was going to ask is whether there is a good time for us to get started," Yoongi says, keeping his eyes ahead. "On the whole…er…process."

"The procreation," Namjoon adds, and Yoongi wonders if there is a playful tone to his voice, but he does not want to face the man and check his expression.

"Yes," he says, cracking a soft smile. "The procreation."

As they come around the final curve, the treeline ends, opening up to a well-trodden grassy area. Up ahead is a round cul-de-sac and sidewalk that leads to a residential neighborhood, and further down, there appears to be a playground of some sort.

"Whenever you feel most comfortable," Namjoon says, which, if Yoongi is being honest, is not the most helpful statement.

Yoongi hums and glances around, not very focused on anything in particular; more eager than anything to get a plan of some sort finalized.

"Well, I am already at your house and more or less ready to begin," Yoongi huffs, finally feeling the exertion of the run. "You are the one with the career, so really, it is up to you, depending on how hands-on you would like to be. And if you would rather wait for my heat to be over, we can."

The sound that comes from Namjoon is somewhere between a hum and a groan, and Yoongi is unsure how to parse it, but certain that he would rather pretend he never heard it. All the little hairs on his body stand at attention, and he does his best not to trip on his own feet again.

"It may be best if we wait until after," Namjoon finally responds. The soft tone of voice has returned, and it does wonders for Yoongi's already wild imagination. "Not to be dismissive or anything, but since omegas tend to get…shall we say…needy during their heats, I should probably keep my distance."

At this, Yoongi laughs – a burst at first that blooms into something melodic and impossible to contain. Namjoon lets out a surprised sound before he, too, chuckles, and Yoongi slows their run to a stop in order to catch his breath.

"What is it?" Namjoon asks, laughter in his voice.

For the first time since coming outside, Yoongi allows himself to glance at Namjoon. He realizes too late that he made a mistake when a sheen of sweat that glistens on Namjoon's neck is hit just right by the streetlights and diminishing sun rays, making his golden skin shine. Namjoon cracks a hint of a smile, watching Yoongi as if he is waiting for a response; Yoongi has no idea why they were laughing, anymore, brain muddled by the alpha's beauty.

"Uh—" Yoongi mutters, pulling his eyes from Namjoon to glance around and attempt to clear his head. "What were we talking about?"

Namjoon scoffs and reaches up, leaning into Yoongi's personal space and taking him by surprise. When Namjoon's warm hand comes into contact with Yoongi's forehead, it makes him freeze in place.

"Do you have a fever or something, omega?" Namjoon asks, moving his hand to Yoongi's cheek as if comparing the two temperatures.

Yoongi ducks dramatically to the side, swatting at the air, doing his best not to touch the alpha who evidently has no respect for personal space.

"Excuse you," he grumbles, watching as Namjoon cracks more of a smile, cheeks delicately dimpled. "I feel fine, for the most part. Just…I don't know…I'm tired."

A lie; Yoongi is not remotely tired. In fact, this run has him feeling more invigorated than he has in months.

"We were discussing the possibility of waiting until after your heat," Namjoon responds somewhat under his breath. He averts his gaze to the road, and Yoongi wonders if the topic of conversation actually makes him feel shy.

"Ah," Yoongi says, remembering Namjoon saying he would become needy and feeling warmth flood to his cheeks. There is a part of him that feels disappointed that Namjoon will want to keep all of his strong, calming alpha scents away when Yoongi desires them most, but he does his best to tamp those thoughts down and remind himself once again that Namjoon is not his.

But what if Namjoon were his, Yoongi's heat-addled mind suggests, unhelpfully. What if, just once, Namjoon could cradle him the way he needs while he fights through his heat? What if Namjoon enveloped him in a warm cocoon of spicy-citrus heaven?

Warmth rushes through Yoongi at a dizzying pace, making his chest feel tight, and he takes a deep intake of cool night air, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the sky. Suddenly, his limbs feel al dente and ready to collapse, and his heart pounds.

"You alright?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi notices his own tangy scent of pomegranate permeating the air.

"Y-yeah," Yoongi responds, turning back toward the house. "Just got hit by a hot flash. I might head back to the house."

"Alright," Namjoon mutters, taking a step closer, emitting a soothing wave of musk. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Yes, Yoongi thinks. He would love for Namjoon to come with him. Only, he fixates on Namjoon towering over him, sweaty and eager to placate his hormonal urges, which is the opposite of what Namjoon can do for him.

"No, I'm good," Yoongi insists. "I'll see you back there."

Yoongi does not wait for Namjoon to respond before he begins jogging toward the trees. Although the cool night air is relaxing, Yoongi feels warm and worn out. He worries his knees might give way, but he presses ahead. The sound of Namjoon's feet jogging in the opposite direction can be heard, and once the lingering scent of tangerine fades, Yoongi lets out a deep breath, slowing down to intake air uninhabited by him.

Being in the presence of Namjoon almost feels like a pull – like there is an invisible string connecting them, causing Yoongi to get caught in Namjoon's gravity. Yoongi wonders again what life might be like if Namjoon were his to orbit. He knows the thought is silly, and it does nothing to tamp the wave of loneliness he feels as he picks up his pace and jogs back toward the large home alone.

He takes it slow, not entirely eager to return too soon before Namjoon. Although Wheein was nice to him last night, her behavior this morning and distance all day has Yoongi feeling unsure of what to think of her. It must be strange to have another person in the house, and Yoongi can only imagine how she must be feeling knowing that he and Namjoon will have to mate the traditional way. Still, he cannot help but wonder if she really meant it last night when she said they would become friends.

Yoongi enters the trees and takes a deep breath of fresh air, letting it settle in his lungs before it rattles out with each movement of his legs. Without Namjoon’s musk, Yoongi feels a bit brighter, oxygen coming to him a little easier. He follows the path and curves to the left, glancing through the trees to his left, toward the residential area for a glimpse of Namjoon, finding a distant figure that may be moving toward him.

He wonders if it is possible for Namjoon to have already run to the end of his route, and glances again, seeing him advance quickly from between the trees. Briefly, Yoongi imagines Namjoon as his alpha coming to give chase and capture him, and instantly, his pheromones spike, creating a cloying plume of chamomile with hints of pomegranate.

“Gods damn it,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, feeling embarrassed by the possibility of Namjoon catching up and running straight through the scent.

But then he imagines Namjoon sniffing the air with blown pupils that blaze with a fire just for Yoongi. Perhaps he has worked up even more of a sweat – dewy and dripping, tasting salty-sweet. The thought stirs arousal in Yoongi’s tummy, and although it is a small amount, he can both feel and smell the slick that he produces – a headier, muskier mixture of his scents.

With a groan, Yoongi follows the path around to the right and picks up the pace. No longer is he concerned with returning alone and having to face Wheein. Now he just wants to get back to the room and bury himself under the warm, soft blankets that smell just like the alpha he cannot stop thinking about, contract be damned.

Yoongi begins to huff and grunt as he jogs on. The small amount of slick he has produced feels uncomfortable, and the more he dwells on it, the more his pheromones seem to seep into the air, clinging all around him like a mist. He wonders if it would be excessive to take another shower.

As he follows the path around one more curve, Yoongi hears a branch snap to his left, in the direction from which Namjoon runs, and he turns his head to find Namjoon running straight through the trees, toward him. Fear and adrenaline spike in Yoongi, and he picks up the pace, running faster. If this is a game Namjoon is playing with him, Yoongi is unsure whether he finds it amusing.

Another branch snaps, this one much closer, and Yoongi turns his head to find Namjoon leaping out from the wooded area, onto the path behind him, watching him with wide eyes and a stance that almost looks like Namjoon is going to get onto all fours and give animalistic chase. Yoongi turns his gaze ahead and approaches the next curve in the road, taking it rather quickly and checking to see that he is not too far from the house.

But as soon as Yoongi is around the bend, Namjoon is ahead, exiting the wooded area and running straight for him. Yoongi falters in his steps and nearly trips over himself, then he veers off the path and begins to run through the last strip of woods in the direction of the Hanok. The sounds of leaves and twigs underfoot snap loudly, causing Yoongi's heart to pound impossibly harder, and he runs as if his life depends on it, hopping over fallen branches and zig-zagging around trees.

And then he trips. Yoongi's right ankle gets caught on a large branch, and he falls forward, bracing himself for impact with his hands outstretched. He feels foolish and confused, heart booming loudly in his ears, and more than anything he just wants to get away from this stupid fucking path and out of all of this nature.

Just as Yoongi's already sore palms hit uneven ground, two strong, warm arms wrap around him and yank him back. Before he can make sense of anything, Yoongi is firmly pressed against the thick trunk of a maple tree. Namjoon's arms cage Yoongi in, hands on either side of his face, and he leans in close, loudly sniffing the air around them.

"N-Namjoon?" Yoongi mutters as his entire body trembles.

From this proximity, the aura of musk and tangerine is strong and sweet – intoxicating. His eyelids flutter shut as more pungent slick is produced, feeling a primal calm wash over him despite being caught by a man who had just given chase.

"What are you doing?" he tries, tilting his head away from Namjoon, who continues to sniff him.

"Smells so good," Namjoon groans after a pause, voice deep and lust-laced.

Yoongi wants to shove Namjoon away and continue back to the hanok, but he finds he cannot move. The alpha's presence is strong and commanding, and Yoongi likes this attention from him; he likes the idea that his scent is alluring. And so he stands with his back pressed against the tree, panting through shattered breath as he attempts to even his heartbeat and ignore the flooding arousal that pools in his tummy.

Then, as if ripped from a trance, Namjoon stands straight up and blinks heavily, taking two steps back. He glances around at his surroundings and, with wide, apologetic eyes, he mutters, "S-sorry. I didn't mean to—that was an accident."

Yoongi clears his throat as disappointment builds and builds and crashes throughout him. He feels shipwrecked at sea – splintered wood left to drift aimlessly in open waters. Because of course, it was an accident; why would Namjoon desire him?

"It's fine," Yoongi responds as he peels himself away from the tree and slowly begins to walk back toward the path.

Namjoon leads the way, jogging without a glance back. Yoongi follows behind. Not another word is exchanged between them, and when Yoongi returns to the hanok, he kicks his shoes off and heads straight to the room.

Namjoon I left the contract on the dining room table. Please read it over and let me know if there is anything we need to amend. If everything looks good, we can sign it and work out a timeline. We discussed waiting until your heat is over, if you recall. Just let me know when the time comes, and we can begin making arrangements.

Yoongi blinks sleep from his eyes as he reads over Namjoon's message. The feral part of him wants to ignore everything contract-related and ask him just what the fuck happened last night, while they were jogging. Had Namjoon caught a whiff of Yoongi's arousal and begun to take chase without thinking? That is the only conclusion Yoongi is able to draw, and he has given it a lot of thought.

But Yoongi decides not to interrogate the alpha. It is not as if he can fully control his urges; some instincts are too primal. Just because his arousal may be inviting does not mean Namjoon wants him.

Yoongi gets dressed for the day and exits the room, feeling a sheen of dewy sweat cover him. He is warm and irritated, and he wants to grab some fruit and a cup of tea and return to bed. To his delight, only Jeongguk is in the kitchen, and as Yoongi approaches, the man turns quickly to face him with wide, curious eyes.

"What?" Yoongi grumbles, uncomfortable with the way Jeongguk's gaze roves over him. "Is there something on my face?"

Jeongguk blinks several times, then shakes his head, and says, "The smell," almost more to himself than to Yoongi.

With a grunt of acknowledgment, Yoongi approaches the dining table and finds the aforementioned contract, picking it up and glancing over it.

"Could I trouble you for some fruit and tea?" he asks softly, watching as Jeongguk – who seems to be preparing tofu – nods, and hums.

"Anything else?" Jeongguk asks, not turning around to address Yoongi directly.

"Nah," Yoongi responds as he turns and makes his way back to the room. "Feel free to shout and I'll come get it."

Yoongi hears Jeongguk hum in response, and he returns to the room and closes the door tightly behind him. He shuffles over to the bed and has a seat, then begins to read over the contract. It looks like any other contract he has had to sign for work, with the amendments of a traditional mating ritual. Ordinarily, when he surrogates, the egg belongs to the other parent, and it dawns on Yoongi that this child will be his DNA, not Wheein's.

The thought of it makes his hands tremble, and he gnaws on the inside of his mouth. How will he feel, knowing years from now that the baby Namjoon and Wheein raise as their own is his? Will he be given rights to be in that child's life? Will he even want that?

Yoongi stares at the page until the words blur and jumble, turning into black smudges against white – incoherent and impossible to parse. He feels anxious and suddenly so terribly alone, and he begins to worry that maybe he cannot do this. Maybe he needs to back out. Maybe he should just go home.

The sound of knuckles rapping against the wooden door pulls Yoongi from the fog, and he sits alert and looks in the direction of the sound.

"Yes?" he calls, heart pounding at the thought that it could be Namjoon on the other side.

"Tea is ready," Jeongguk responds softly. "I didn't feel like shouting."

With a hum, Yoongi tosses the contract aside and gets off the bed. As he steps closer to the door, he begins to feel a bit shy about how much the room must reek of him. In the kitchen, Jeongguk seemed dazed by his mere presence; what might it smell like contained in such a small space, even with the window cracked open?

To his surprise, Jeongguk's expression seems rather schooled as he opens the door and greets him. He reaches for the tray of tea and fruit, but Jeongguk shakes his head and nods his chin as if to motion for Yoongi to get out of his way.

"Fine," Yoongi mutters, stepping aside and allowing him to enter. The aroma of the tea is strong and soothing.

Jeongguk makes his way to the bed and sets the tray down. His eyes seem to linger on the contract, and then he straightens himself out and turns back to Yoongi. With a concerned pinch to his brow, he opens his mouth, but then he seems to think better about what he might say, and he closes it, floundering.

"Is something the matter?" Yoongi drawls, unable to hide his impatience. He just wants to return to bed and enjoy his tea and fruit, and Jeongguk is standing in the way.

"No," Jeongguk responds after a moment, shrugging as he leaves the room.

"Weirdo," Yoongi mutters under his breath once the door is closed tight. He feels hormonal and irritated, and he is not in the mood for a cryptic beta sniffing around in his personal space.

Yoongi would throw himself onto the mattress in a disgruntled huff if it weren't for the tray of hot tea sitting atop. Instead, he slowly gets onto his knees and shuffles over, plopping onto his butt once he is close enough, causing the porcelain to rattle on its wooden surface.

The tea is perfect, lightly sweetened with honey and soothing on the throat. Yoongi allows himself to be grateful for Jeongguk despite how annoying he finds his presence today. He wonders if Jeongguk likes being employed by the couple because he enjoys doting on others. He even wonders if Jeongguk will dote on him throughout the pregnancy. Or if that is something Namjoon will do?

Namjoon. Yoongi grimaces at the thought of him. Last night, in the woods, pressed against the tree and caged in by Namjoon's arms, Yoongi felt truly alive. Something primal sparked inside him after being chased and captured by the alpha. Just thinking about it has slick threatening to stain his pants.

But then he remembers the look on Namjoon's face when he said it was an accident, and the arousal turns acidic, giving Yoongi a stomach ache. With a frown, he enjoys his fruit – sliced pear and watermelon – and considers once more the thought of backing out of this situation.

Does he really want to be tied to Namjoon for the rest of his life? Is it worth the paycheck? Yoongi is happy to let his body be used to carry a baby to term, but his baby? His flesh and blood, sharing physical features and primal, innate instincts with Kim Namjoon? Can he really go through with it?

This time, when knuckles rap gently at the door, Yoongi huffs out a sigh and shouts, "What?" He is not in the mood to be bothered; can't he wallow in his moodiness alone?

"Yoongi-ssi?" Namjoon calls from the other side of the door.

Namjoon is possibly the last person on this planet Yoongi wants stepping foot into this room, especially with his arousal cloying the air. Even if Namjoon does not desire him, the alpha in him will likely become aroused, and he would rather save all of that for when they actually have to mate.

A shudder runs down Yoongi's spine, and he calls back, "Don't come in here!"

"I just wanted to make sure you got the contract," Namjoon responds, and Yoongi nods to nobody but himself as he mutters, "I got it."

"Okay, good," Namjoon says, and that is it. Silence from the other side of the door, just as Yoongi likes it.

He reminds himself that Namjoon stood up for him all those years ago, and that he should stop second-guessing whether he wants to help him or not. He should help Namjoon; he likes to help others. So he picks up his phone and thumbs around for his conversation with the alpha.

Yoongi Contract looks good. I have a few things I would like to discuss, but it can wait until after my heat ends.

Before Yoongi has a chance to set his phone down, it rings. Namjoon's name flashes on the screen, filling Yoongi with a wave of anxiety. Of course, it is fair that Namjoon would want to iron out any details, but now?

Yoongi answers the phone with a hum.

"We can talk about it now if you'd like to," Namjoon says, tone low and concerned. Hearing Namjoon's voice spoken so directly in his ear gives him goosebumps; he sounds good.

"Uh—" Yoongi clears his throat and runs a hand through his long, messy hair. "Alright. Well, I guess I was wondering about after the baby is born, since, you know…it's going to share my DNA too, if, uh…"

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. Suddenly, he feels embarrassed to care this much, especially being unable to see and gauge Namjoon's reaction.

"Never mind," he mutters when the silence becomes overwhelming. "Forget it."

"Yoongi, listen," Namjoon says, voice stripped of any hint of concern; stern. "I know the process will likely be really stressful, and very personal to you, but I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to come around once we've finished. At least not until the baby is older. The media might turn it into a mess, and we need to think about our reputations."

"We what?" Yoongi responds sharply, unable to hold in the surge of anger that burns behind his ribcage. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Namjoon has the audacity to sigh, and Yoongi spirals.

"You know what?" Yoongi says through a sardonic chuckle, shaking his head, "Fuck you, and fuck this contract. I'm packing my shit and going home."

"Yoongi," Namjoon groans impatiently, "why don't we discuss this once your heat is over?"

"Once my heat is over?" Yoongi practically shouts, voice steeped in sarcasm. "Why, because I'm hormonal? Surely my judgment is being clouded because my omega instincts are making me overreact."

Namjoon hums and responds, "Pretty much."

"Oh, I fucking hate you," Yoongi says, getting up from the bed and pacing around, grabbing his discarded clothing from the floor and walking toward his suitcase to shove the items in unceremoniously. "And stop addressing me without honorifics! I am older than you!"

The tone of Namjoon's voice as he says, "I'm the alpha of this house," is almost playful, and Yoongi finds it infuriating.

"Can't even get your wife pregnant," Yoongi mutters under his breath. "Some fucking alpha you are."

As soon as the words leave his lips, Yoongi braces himself to be yelled at. He really has a lot of nerve saying shit like that to the man whose house he has been staying in. It takes Yoongi by surprise, however, when the door to the bedroom flies open, and Namjoon comes barreling in.

"Say that to my face, omega," Namjoon challenges, standing tall while Yoongi still holds his phone to his ear, crouched over his suitcase, and too dazed to move.

The bitter sting of cinnamon permeates the air, and Yoongi stumbles back, feeling dizzy.

"Not so tough are you now, little wolf?" Namjoon snarls, stepping forward and crowding Yoongi's space.

Yoongi wonders if Jeongguk or Wheein are around and can hear them. He wonders if they would intervene if things got physical between them.

He does not want to fight Namjoon, however. He wants to fuck.

Seeing him worked up with his jaw set and nostrils flaring, muscles strained behind his white button-up does something to Yoongi, and he is unable to stop himself from leaking a little at the sight of him. This must catch Namjoon's attention because he sniffs the air before his eyes widen, confusion laced with anger.

"If you want to leave, then get the fuck out," Namjoon says, blinking heavily and appearing less confident than just a moment ago. "Otherwise, watch what you say to me."

"Alright," Yoongi mutters, eyes traveling over Namjoon, past the hint of skin that peeks past his collar – two buttons left undone – to the shape of his waist and hips, no detail hidden behind the white fabric. "S-sorry."

"Are you?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi's eyes snap back to his face.

"Yeah," he mutters, and he means it. All the fight has drained out of him, and the bedroom stinks of negativity and arousal.

"If you stay, we can discuss all of this in better detail," Namjoon says, taking a step backward. Sweat shimmers on his throat, and once more, Yoongi cannot stop himself from imagining what it must taste like.

"Later," Namjoon adds, eyes glancing around the room, dazed.

And then he walks out, closing the door behind him. Yoongi's phone remains clutched in his hand, and he glances down to notice that the call was never hung up. Seconds tick by uselessly on his screen until finally, the line goes dead.

"Fuck," Yoongi mutters, tossing his phone to the bed as he lets out a deep exhale. "Holy fuck. That was hot."

No longer is Yoongi considering packing and leaving; he is desperate for Namjoon to mate him.

Tonight, it is Wheein who brings Yoongi dinner. She looks tense as she holds the tray of kimchi soup, rice, and tea, and thankfully, she allows Yoongi to take it from her in the doorway. Yoongi hopes she will excuse herself immediately.

"What did you say to piss off Namjoon earlier?" she asks, voice full of mirth.

Yoongi stops mid-turn and looks over his shoulder to find her standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Heat rises to his face, and he spins away to continue carrying the tray over to the bed.

"Oh, nothing, really…" Yoongi mutters, unsure what he could possibly tell her about what happened. He is almost certain Namjoon did not confide in her, if the lack of conversation he has witnessed is anything to go by. "I misunderstood a line in the contract, and overreacted. My hormones have been super off balance."

Yoongi turns and feigns concern as he adds, "Why? Did he—did he say anything?"

Wheein squints and appears to study Yoongi, then she shrugs and responds, "No. Just heard him storm in here, that's all."

"Ah," Yoongi mutters, feeling uncomfortable. "Well, thank you for the food. I appreciate it."

"The thing is," Wheein continues, straightening her posture and taking a step into the room, "he seems to be coming down with a fever. I'm worried that something may have stressed him out so much that he has become sick."

Yoongi swallows a lump, feeling a prickle of sweat on his forehead. Just what the hell is Wheein trying to accuse him of?

"I don't think that's how stress or sickness works," Yoongi mutters, somewhat defensively.

With a devilish grin, Wheein says, "True. Maybe he got a whiff of your horny omega slick and now he's going into a rut."

Yoongi's heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he racks his brain…is that how ruts work? He is not entirely sure; alpha ruts are not exactly part of the in vitro birthing process.

"I'm…not—" Yoongi begins, wanting to argue that he has not been excreting slick willy-nilly for all the house to smell. Sure, he is sweating a lot, and producing a bouquet of scents, but his slick has been more or less kept under control.

But then he remembers the jog in the woods. Not only that, but Namjoon chased him through the trees and pinned him in order to get a better sniff of him. And he did leak a little earlier today when Namjoon stormed in and loomed over him like a threat. Could that have caused a rut?

Yoongi begins to panic, feeling his pulse rage. He knits his brow and shakes his head, attempting to think of something to say, but Wheein just giggles and walks out, closing the door and leaving a spattering of patchouli behind her.

Briefly, Yoongi wonders if she is drunk; she does seem to enjoy her white wine. Or is she being malicious? Does having another omega in the house make her feel insecure?

There is a part of Yoongi that wants to reach out to Namjoon and ask him what is wrong – to make sure that it is not, in fact, a rut that he is going through. But Namjoon has been so hot and cold toward Yoongi since his arrival, and more than anything, he wants to get the procreation done and over with so that he can carry their child to term and never see them again.

However, if he is going to be in this house for a year, give or take, then he needs an ally. So he climbs onto the bed, finds his phone, and makes an attempt at opening a dialogue.

Yoongi I have a feeling Wheein hates me.

He sets his phone down and takes a spoonful of soup, raising it to his lips before stopping and giving it a whiff. Certainly, if she were going to poison him, she would do so with something undetectable, Yoongi thinks, but he takes precautions anyway. After all, she is not above having things added to his food that should not be in there.

Yoongi has a spoonful of the soup, then a bite of rice, and a spoonful of soup again. He closes his eyes, savoring the broth with a tiny smile, deciding it is probably not dosed with poison. Beside him, his cell phone buzzes.

Namjoon To be fair, she hates everything.

This makes Yoongi snicker and roll his eyes.

Yoongi How reassuring.

Namjoon Why? Has she said something to you?

Yoongi feels a little surprised by Namjoon's concern. Of course, this could be a robotic response, seeing as Yoongi is a guest in his home. Or a response born out of boredom, if Namjoon really is sick. Still, Yoongi takes what he can get.

Yoongi She asked me what I said to anger you. I lied a little, because I wasn't sure if you told her, and I was already embarrassed enough that I didn't want to run the risk of offending her, as well.

Namjoon She's good at smelling lies. But it's probably best that you didn't tell her.

Yoongi I figured.

Yoongi continues to eat, staring at his phone, which rests on his knee, waiting for Namjoon to respond. It only takes a few minutes for him to become antsy.

Yoongi She mentioned you've been feeling sick.

Namjoon A fever, I think. Nothing concerning.

Yoongi Wheein said it might be a rut. She even teased me, saying it was probably my fault.

Namjoon She said that?

Yoongi I’m sure she was joking, but it did make me a bit uncomfortable.

Yoongi wants to ask directly. He wants to interrogate Namjoon about what happened in the woods last night and ask him what he thinks they should do. If Namjoon is reacting to his scent in a primal way, is it safe for them to be in the same house?

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response to come in, feeling disappointment well inside his guts with each moment that passes without one. He even considers calling Namjoon just to clear things up.

But instead, he decides he would rather eat his dinner. Already, the food and tea have begun to turn cold, so he slurps everything up, intent on finishing rather than savoring.

Since Namjoon is likely confined to one of the rooms, Yoongi decides to take his tray back to the kitchen. Perhaps he can engage in more friendly conversation with Wheein, or find out what Jeongguk is up to.

Yoongi slides off the bed and grabs the tray, balancing it on one palm spread across the underside as he walks to the door and opens it. He peeks out briefly, and upon finding only Jeongguk in the kitchen, he exits the room and pads over.

As he approaches, Jeongguk looks up, and with widened eyes, he trots over, reaching out for the tray before getting close enough to take it.

“I got it,” Yoongi grumbles, but Jeongguk takes it anyway, spinning on the balls of his feet to place it onto the counter.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jeongguk says as he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “I was just going to come talk to you.”

“Oh?”

Jeongguk hums. “Being that you are in a heat cycle and Namjoon is feeling unwell, we would like to move you.”

"Like, what, to another room?" Yoongi scoffs; what difference would it make if he were across the same hallway, one door over.

"It's…more like a guesthouse," Jeongguk responds with a look of concern, possibly because he can see how Yoongi is responding to the request.

"A guesthouse," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

So, essentially, they would like to further isolate Yoongi and keep him away from Namjoon. And he is supposed to carry a child under those conditions…he wishes he could say he is surprised, but isolating the surrogate does seem to be the way couples handle the process, and a guesthouse had been mentioned before.

"Fine," Yoongi grumbles, feeling exhausted.

Perhaps it is for the best that he is away from this weirdo family and keeps to himself. The pay that will come at the end of this whole ordeal will be enough that he can take a vacation to clear his mind, and he decides to begin looking forward to that.

Yoongi leads the way back to the bedroom and pushes the door open, leaving it hanging rather than bothering to close it behind him. Let his stench fill the hallway, for all he cares; if Namjoon really is rutting, then he hopes the man feels miserable.

First, he picks up his phone – checking for messages and rolling his eyes when he finds none – and then he shoves his strewn clothing back into his suitcase and zips it shut. Jeongguk arrives and waits in the doorway, seemingly surprised to find Yoongi is already set to leave.

"You never bothered to unpack," Jeongguk mutters, a statement rather than a question.

Rather than respond, Yoongi shoves past and walks down the hallway, toward the bathroom, to retrieve his toothbrush. For a brief moment, he considers taking the amenities that have been provided, but he decides to wait and find out what the guesthouse has to offer. Yoongi pads back and finds that Jeongguk already has his suitcase handle extended and in his grasp, so he approaches and waits for the beta to lead the way.

"It's out back," Jeongguk mutters as he wheels the case toward the back door, and Yoongi trods ahead and slides his feet into the sneakers that were left the night before, not bothering to untie them or straighten out the backs that bend beneath his heels. He stands off to the side as Jeongguk slides into some sandals and opens the back door, leading the way to the left, where the wooden deck extends past the pool, along the side of the house.

Past the pool, between the hanok and the wooded area, is a small wooden bungalow – a tiny version of the hanok, with matching ornate black roof tiles. It runs the width of the pool, although how deep the structure is, Yoongi cannot tell. Jeongguk leads down the wooden path until he reaches the door, then he pulls out a key and unlocks it.

As soon as Yoongi steps close to the front door, he is hit with the scent of warm musk, tangerine, and cinnamon, stronger than it had been in the other bedroom. Petulance rises, and he cannot decide whether he is more annoyed at having to smell the alpha because he wants him close, or if he simply wants nothing to do with his presence at all.

This building is far more quaint, with a large room that has a bed set up in the far corner, raised from the floor and covered in furs – what one would expect from a wolf home centuries ago – with a dresser and mirror nearby. There is a low square table in the center of the room, around which sits four yellow-brown cushions. To the right is a window, and to the left is a door, through which Yoongi expects to find a bathroom.

There is no kitchen, nor hint of space in which to prepare meals, making Yoongi uncomfortable. Sure, he had been accepting Jeongguk's insistence of preparing and delivering his meals, but out here, away from the house, he practically feels like a prisoner. The space is bare bones, and appears hardly used – though immaculate; Yoongi does not see a speck of dust. He wonders if Jeongguk recently cleaned in here.

"What do I do about food?" Yoongi asks, already knowing what the answer will be.

"I already prepare all three meals for Namjoon and Wheein," Jeongguk responds simply. "And I was already bringing your meals, before we moved you here. It's no trouble for me to make the extra trip with a tray."

Yoongi sighs and digs the palms of his hands against his eyes, feeling tired, but more in an emotional way than a physical one.

"I guess I was hoping that on days I felt better, I could have a little more independence."

Jeongguk nods, then shrugs and says, "I understand it must be strange to live with a family who has hired help, but I assure you that nobody cooks or cleans in that kitchen but me."

"And if you're sick?" Yoongi challenges, raising an eyebrow.

"I rarely become sick," Jeongguk responds.

Yoongi simply hums. Must be nice, he thinks, to be a beta with no heat or rut cycle to care about. Still, the thought of having to rely on someone else for all of his meals feels…well, annoying. But he swallows down the rest of his remarks and accepts things as they are. Jeongguk is, after all, a great cook.

"Take down my number so it will be easier for you to let me know when you are hungry," Jeongguk suggests, and Yoongi fishes his phone from his pocket, unlocks the screen, and thumbs through to open an empty contact, then hands it over.

"And if I want snacks?"

Jeongguk takes the phone, glancing at Yoongi for just a brief moment to smirk, before looking down and muttering, "I have already purchased the items on your list, and if you would like, I can bring all the snacks here. If there is anything else you crave, just let me know and I will add it to the shopping list."

"Alright," Yoongi concedes with a sigh as Jeongguk hands his phone back. Yoongi snatches it and slides it back into his pocket, then continues to glance around the room.

"I will leave you to it," Jeongguk says, turning on his heels before adding, "and if you would like to go for a swim, please feel free. I bought a set of shorts in case you didn't pack any. It's in the dresser, which you are welcome to store your things in."

Yoongi nods and hums in response, then stands stiff with his arms hanging at his sides, unsure what to do with himself as Jeongguk leaves. A swim does sound nice, but he hesitates, letting his gaze drift around the room. He supposes it couldn't hurt to take a dip and get a little sunshine. There really is not much else to do, and although Yoongi has a laptop packed in his suitcase and can always find something to stream, he really is not in the mood to watch anything.

"Everything feels like a concession," he mutters under his breath as he kicks away his bent sneakers and pads over to the dresser. "For once, I just want to feel relaxed."

And if that is not reason enough to take a swim, he really does not know what is.

Although the furniture seems somewhat contemporary, the dresser has a vintage look, designed like older pieces of furniture with ornate iron fastenings, but rounded edges. Yoongi opens the top drawer and finds a folded pile of black cloth, which he lifts and discovers is the shorts Jeongguk had mentioned.

Although they are longer, they are also rather tight, and Yoongi snickers to himself, wondering if they provide more coverage than boxer briefs – which he has aplenty, and could have worn. He strips down, out of his light blue jeans and black briefs, and shimmies one leg at a time into the shorts, pulling them high and adjusting the crotch.

"Good enough," he mutters as he crosses the room and enters through the only other door, feeling around for a light switch before finding one and flipping it up. The bathroom is spacious, with a shower stall – containing the toiletries he lamented leaving behind in the old bathroom – and a large sink with an overhead mirror. Above the toilet is a shelf holding rows of towels, and he grabs one, switches off the light, and shuffles out.

Yoongi makes his way to the door and exits the bungalow, leaving it unlocked since Jeongguk did not provide him with a key, and he walks over to the pool. The end closest to his new home appears to be the deep end – which Yoongi thinks is quite suitable for the situation he has found himself in – and he decides he is not eager to jump in all at once, so he walks around to the far end, where a small set of steps sits nestled in the corner closest to the back porch of the hanok.

A light breeze gusts by, covering Yoongi in goosebumps, and he wonders if perhaps it is getting too cold to take a swim. Already, the day is beginning to wane, the sky turning a golden hue. Yoongi shuffles over to the steps and dips his toe into the water, snickering to himself because of course their pool is heated. Why wouldn't the mayor, who lives in a beautiful home with his beautiful wife out on this beautiful stretch of land, not have a heated fucking inground pool?

The water feels perfect, and Yoongi peels off the plain white tee he had been wearing and flings it and his towel over to a wicker chair with white padding that sits a few feet away. Briefly, Yoongi wonders if it is likely that anyone might join him, but considering Namjoon is unwell and the other two live in the kitchen, glued to their glasses of wine, he finds it unlikely.

Good, he thinks. All the better.

Yoongi starts slow, walking one step at a time while the water licks his ankles – cool on the very surface but warm just below. Then, with a deep breath out, and a deep breath in, he falls forward, skimming the surface as he lowers little by little until he is somewhat wading, somewhat walking, sinking down into a half-seated position hovering just above the floor.

Below the surface of the water, everything is calm and peaceful – a gentle roar of nothingness, heavy and weightless and so, perfectly alone. Above, the water sways, dips, and peaks, casting light and shadow in ever-changing patterns, glimmering and fading, ebbing and flowing. He wishes he could sit down here much longer than his body allows, and he lets out air gradually, expanding his diaphragm slowly, slowly, slowly, until his lungs begin to burn with the need for oxygen.

Yoongi lets the rest of his air out in a huff as he stands in shallow enough water that it rests at his hips, making his torso cool instantly in the evening air. A chill rocks through him, quaking in a shiver that feels so visceral – makes him feel so alive. And, with a smile, he spins and squats, walking with the water to his shoulders until, little by little, he can stand tall again with only his neck and head sticking out.

As the sun gradually works its way closer to the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in pink and gold, Yoongi swims and swims, spinning onto his back for a few laps before turning onto his front, dolphin-diving below and floating listlessly back to the top. He lays on his back and lets the water rock him to and fro, drifting with no direction – with no care in the world. He closes his eyes, he listens to birds and insects, and he simply exists.

The sound of the back door to the hanok closing stirs Yoongi, and he opens his eyes, body dipping into the water as his muscles respond to the feeling of surprise. Namjoon shuffles down the deck, along the path, and disappears into the trees, running much faster than he had the other night.

Strange, Yoongi thinks, that he is out for a run when he is unwell. Perhaps he is feeling better. Or, perhaps he is the foolish type who likes to push himself too far when all he needs is rest.

Or…perhaps he really is in a rut.

His fever – and whatever else he experiences during that time – could come and go the way Yoongi's does, building and fading gradually until it hits hard all at once, debilitating and overwhelming, or whatever alphas experience.

Yoongi continues to float, but the weightlessness feels stifled; his limbs are just a little too heavy. The euphoria has been tamped down, and he begins to slowly spin and walk around somewhat mindlessly, unsure what to do with himself. The thought of Namjoon returning and regarding him feels daunting…but, somehow, the thought of Namjoon returning and pretending he does not exist feels worse.

With small, bouncy steps, Yoongi returns to the steps in the corner of the pool, standing tall as the water pours down his torso and turns cold. Goosebumps cover his skin, and he breathes deep, relaxing breaths as he exits and pads over to the chair for the fluffy white towel that lays in a pile, tangled with his shirt.

Yoongi picks up the towel and starts with his shoulders, rubbing away water while standing with his head leaned just forward enough that the water drips onto the tan gunite floor. He rubs the towel over his arms and down his legs, not worrying too much since his shorts are sopping wet; he really just wants to get his shirt back on so he can dry his hair a little and then wrap the towel around his hips.

As he flings the towel aside and reaches for his tee, the sounds of feet tromping through the woods can be heard behind him. He holds the garment in his hand and rotates, curiously searching for the source of the sound. And when Namjoon breaks through the trees – off path – Yoongi sucks in a breath and holds it for safekeeping.

Namjoon shines in the faint rays of the quickly setting sun, hair stuck to his forehead in stalactites of sweat. His black athletic tank and shorts cling to his skin, outlining firm muscle and soft curves; he looks like a modern depiction of a god, chiseled in stone, preserved in all his glory, too good to be true.

As the musky-sweet stench of chamomile wafts from Yoongi, he turns his head away quickly and begins to shove his arms into his shirt, punching material before finding the wrong holes and then the right ones. He swallows a lump and stares ahead at the wooden deck of the hanok, waiting anxiously for Namjoon to pass and go back inside. But instead, the footsteps advance, slowing in step and at war with the accelerated pace at which Yoongi's heart pounds.

"Hey," Namjoon mutters, making Yoongi gasp, and he turns, feeling his face warm as Namjoon approaches. "Are you done already?"

Yoongi's entire nervous system screeches to a halt as he does his best not to notice the dips and curves of pectorals and abdominals, and so, so many muscles his foggy brain fails to cling to the names of. Somewhat frantically, his tongue pushes and pulls inside his mouth, forming consonants and vowels that never find sound, until finally, he mutters, "Huh?"

To his surprise, Namjoon chuckles – a soft thing with barely any sound following an abrupt gust of air, accompanied by gentle dimples creasing his cheeks. It is absolutely devastating, and Yoongi heavy-blinks and pleads silently with himself to get his shit together and think clearly.

"Are you done swimming?" Namjoon clarifies. "I was going to jump in."

All at once, Yoongi spirals. On the one hand, it would be an actual dream come true to swim with Namjoon – to be weightless and wet, and engulfed in his scent. But on the other hand – the practical hand that reminds him that Namjoon is unattainable and not his – determines that all of that is an absolute fucking nightmare.

What if the sight of Namjoon's bare chest causes Yoongi to produce slick, filling the atmosphere with his arousal? No, he thinks. Swimming with Namjoon is off the table.

And even as he deliberates, searching the darkening sky for answers, warm musk laced with sweet, tangy tangerine tickles at his senses and sends him reeling. He needs to get away, fast.

"Y-yeah," Yoongi mutters. "I feel kinda tired. I might shower and turn in."

Namjoon's brows knit ever so slightly, and Yoongi does not let himself dwell on it – pushes out the thought that Namjoon might be disappointed, of all things. As he takes a step back and lifts his hand to give a weak wave, he mutters, "Nice pool, though. Thanks for letting me swim."

A weird thing to say, Yoongi considers, since Namjoon did not really let him do anything; he is a guest in this house and was given swim shorts. But the words are already out there and it feels weird to take them back.

"Use it all you'd like," Namjoon responds politely, reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt and lifting.

And with that, Yoongi turns quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet to scamper away, back to the bungalow. He imagines he can feel Namjoon's gaze on him as he retreats, swallowing a lump of determination and disappointment as he reaches for the knob. He will not turn back and see for himself; he cannot do that.

Yoongi steps inside quickly and leans his back against the closing door, allowing his body and gravity to do the work as he sinks into the cold surface and closes his eyes. He needs to stop swooning over Namjoon; these feelings – whether a product of his heat, or genuine, or some dreadful place in between – are no good. They can only cause him hurt, in the long run. He needs to steel his heart and stop pining over the alpha who can never be his.

Days pass in the bungalow with Jeongguk bringing him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and keeping him stocked with snacks. The food changes, sometimes braised pork belly, sometimes pizza. Each meal comes with tea and water, and a packet of bupropion in case Yoongi feels any swelling or pain. He lets the medicine pile up on the small wooden table.

Yoongi's heat is beginning to hit hard, keeping him bedridden during the day. He peels himself out of the sheets when the sun begins to set to swim by himself, desperate to calm his nerves. Then he showers and returns to the bed. When Jeongguk stops by with meals, he switches out the sheets and towels, keeping Yoongi stocked with anything he may need.

But what he really needs, deep down, is the scent and comfort of an alpha. He needs to nestle and cuddle; needs to smell and lick and feel. Already traces of Namjoon are dwindling, and he finds himself desperately rubbing his face against the thick fur blanket, in search of more.

In the past, Yoongi has been able to tamp down these urges, never having had a tangible person on his mind while his hormones rage. But this time, he aches and yearns for the man whose scent is faint on the fur – only present enough to provide an illusion of comfort, driving him mad when his thighs clench together, and he leaks with wanton need.

Yoongi has no idea how late it is when a light knocking on the door that is very clearly not Jeongguk stirs him from a restless sleep. Outside, the sky is dark, and he cannot fathom who may need him at this hour.

"Hang on," Yoongi groans as he sits up and begins to push at the sheet, tangled in fabric and sweat, drowsy and disoriented. "Just a moment."

Yoongi stumbles when he gets to his feet, breathing shallowly and attempting to press forward despite how badly his body wants to sink down, down, down to the floorboards, and seep into the earth. He reaches for the knob and turns, finding his hand is too sweaty and rubbing his palm against his briefs in order to try again.

It occurs to Yoongi in a brief, passing thought that he is completely undressed, answering the door in his underwear, but he has neither the heart nor mind to care. When he finally gets a grip on the knob to twist and pull, he lets his eyes rake up the body of his guest, to his face, taking several moments to process the sight before him.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon asks softly, covered head to toe in soft black cotton – a hoodie pulled over his head, and matching joggers.

Yoongi hums in response, not entirely certain that Namjoon really is standing before him; could he be lucid dreaming? Does it always feel so real?

"Can I—I wanted to talk to you. Is now a bad time?"

"I'm…not fully awake," Yoongi mutters. Then he chuckles, shoulders and stomach bouncing as he asks, "Am I awake? Are you a dream? This is a weird dream. Ugh, this heat is making me crazy."

"I'm—" Namjoon begins, hesitates, and shifts on his feet, eyes searching past Yoongi's head.

Yoongi thinks his pupils are blown wide, that his nostrils are flared, but of course they would be; dream Namjoon would desire him.

"Maybe I should come back another time."

With a shrug, Yoongi backs into the room, deciding that he may as well let Namjoon in; he has no idea when, in the foreseeable future, he might feel better. He pads over to a cushion and allows his body to bend and crash down into it, catching himself with his palms against the floor before he can topple completely. Namjoon enters the space and softly closes the door behind him, then he takes a much more graceful seat on the cushion to Yoongi's right.

"I was thinking…" Namjoon says, trailing off as he glances around the room, seemingly unable to hold his gaze on Yoongi. "I don't know if you know this, but I began my rut."

Yoongi laughs softly to himself, though what he finds funny, he is not certain. "Sucks to be you," he mutters with a sigh, feeling sorry for anyone who may be feeling as awful as he feels in this moment.

"I wasn't expecting it to happen, but I think it came about from…in the woods…when we were running. Your smell, and…my instincts…I—I don't know. I'm sorry, this must be awkward."

Gradually, as if ice water were trickling down from above, onto his head and pulling him from the fog of his heat, Yoongi begins to become acutely aware of the fact that this conversation is real – that he is definitely not dreaming. He watches Namjoon with wide, eager eyes, feeling a dizzying euphoria blanket him as their musks and scents mingle in the air.

"Ok," is all he can bring himself to say in response.

Namjoon chuckles, light and soft, just like the day at the pool, sending Yoongi's heart haywire. And Namjoon has to know; the way his scent hangs in the air, clinging to every corner and surface, it is unmistakable how Yoongi feels.

"I wonder if perhaps this would be a good time to…you know…" Namjoon says, cheeks darkening with blush.

"Procreate," Yoongi blurts with a heavy scoff.

Namjoon's cheeks dimple just enough to devastate as he says, "Yeah. Procreate."

"I am the most fertile," Yoongi mutters, letting his gaze drift to Namjoon's sweater, to a spot that blurs as he lets his vision drift, then sharpens as he blinks.

"And I'm the most virile," Namjoon adds.

"This is probably an opportune time," Yoongi mutters.

Silence hangs, but, for once, it is not uncomfortable. Namjoon seems to be intentionally delivering a calming scent, and Yoongi takes a deep, fortifying breath.

"Tonight is likely too soon," Namjoon responds, voice small.

Yoongi gasps, eyes flying to search Namjoon's face for any hint that he is joking, finding him looking shy.

"Yeah, maybe." Yoongi says, weighing the possibilities. "It would…gods, it would be a huge relief for me, but…maybe it's too soon."

"I'm sorry you're in here alone, dealing with this," Namjoon says, bashful. "I was too worried about, well…having you across the hall. The smell…"

"I get it," Yoongi responds. And he really does; being away from Namjoon has been for the best, he thinks. Especially with his treacherous heart desiring more than just the alpha comfort he could provide. Yoongi finds himself curious to know Namjoon too, as a person. Horrifying; it must be stopped.

"Tomorrow?" Yoongi suggests, half-joking, and Namjoon regards him with wide eyes, visibly swallows, and then nods in quick, shallow movements.

"Alright," Namjoon says, wetting his lips and standing quickly. "See you tomorrow, Yoongi."

And then, without another word or glance back, Namjoon makes for the door and exits, leaving Yoongi to spiral and spiral.

Jeongguk arrives bright and early with a bowl of fruit, water, and tea. He mutters something about Yoongi refraining from showering, no matter how sweaty he may be, and he hands over a packet of vitamins, waiting to watch Yoongi take them.

He also brings incense sticks and candles that he lights, ornate figures and shimmering crystals that he sets here and there, wreaths of dried plants that he tacks around, and soft, satin black sheets. It smells faintly like a smoky forest, but also a valley of flowers.

"Namjoon will return within the hour," Jeongguk says once he is done, holding the old bedding in his arms. "It will just be the two of you; the ritual is modern enough that there is no need for an audience. Is there anything else you need?"

Within the hour, in broad daylight. Yoongi swallows thickly. "N-no, thank you Jeongguk."

"Best of luck," Jeongguk says with a nod, "I pray for your fertility, and to your healthy body, mind, and spirit."

"Oh—okay, thanks," Yoongi mutters, stunned and unsure what to say.

With a bow of his head, Jeongguk departs, leaving Yoongi to stare at his fruit bowl.

Namjoon's knocking is recognizable now; two short taps and three quick ones. Yoongi is sitting at the table finishing his fruit and tea, and he calls, "Come in," with a quaking voice.

Seconds pass before the door opens, and Yoongi wonders if Namjoon is just as nervous as he is. He walks in wearing a black satin robe, and he kicks off sandals as he closes the door, then approaches with soft steps. He kneels beside Yoongi, and glances around the room for a brief moment before finally speaking.

"Are you ready, little omega?"

The nickname makes Yoongi's head spin, and he heavy-blinks and nods, letting his gaze drift and return.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

With a lift of one eyebrow, Namjoon says, "You don't smell ready," and Yoongi absolutely spirals. He attempts to find the words to say, failing around each syllable before Namjoon continues, saying, "I can change that, don't worry," in a voice that is deep and inviting and far too enticing for his own good.

Yoongi pushes away from the small table and stands, wearing only black briefs and a black tee. The material clings to his skin with sweat, but he has followed directions and has not showered. He makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge, and Namjoon turns, gets onto his hands and knees, and crawls.

No, not crawls – Namjoon stalks. His gaze is pointed, lips pulled into a sneer, and he slowly makes his way to Yoongi as the bone and muscle in his shoulders rise and sink hypnotically.

The dark material of the satin robe falls open, showing hints of chest, and Yoongi allows himself to look. When Namjoon gets close, he nuzzles his cheek against Yoongi's knee, and sparks fly inside him, building the aching need, causing every muscle between his legs to twitch and flutter as he produces slick.

"That's more like it," Namjoon groans, making a show of sniffing the air.

"Gods, you're infuriating," Yoongi mutters as his eyelids flicker.

"Lay down," Namjoon instructs as he sits up and begins to disrobe.

Yoongi nods and backs up, digging his heels as he pushes the blankets away and finds the center of the bed, soft and cool and covered with satin. Namjoon stands, drops the robe to the floor, and Yoongi gasps as he takes in the sight of the alpha nude with his cock hanging heavy and half-hard between his legs.

"Like what you see?" Namjoon teases, and Yoongi laughs, forcing his gaze to reach the ceiling.

"You wish," he responds, breathy and unconvincing.

The mattress dips, and Yoongi's heart becomes frantic. He has to keep reminding himself that this is really happening – that Kim Namjoon is going to breed him. When he allows himself to look at Namjoon, he finds the man towering beside him on his knees, laughing.

"What?" Yoongi asks, petulant.

"So stiff," Namjoon teases, and Yoongi realizes that he is lying in a straight line with his arms flat to his sides, and yeah, sure, he probably looks really funny. "Loosen up, omega."

"How do you expect me to do that?" Yoongi asks somewhat indignantly, tilting his head up, off the pillow, as if that will give him a better view of the man.

Without another word, Namjoon reaches down, takes Yoongi's plain black tee in both hands, and – with a growl that roars from deep in his chest – he rips it wide open, causing Yoongi to gasp and scramble as the alpha holds what is left of the material, trapping him somewhat suspended with his heels digging desperately against the mattress.

Slick trickles from him, mingling in the air with tangerine and musk – dizzying. Arousal floods and floods to the tips of his fingers and toes, his cock twitches half-hard, and his breaths heave from his lungs. He smolders under Namjoon's heated gaze, and his body begins to sink, pliant and eager. So, so eager.

Namjoon releases Yoongi's tattered shirt and leans close, caging him in with his arms and sniffing just above his shoulder, making Yoongi instinctively tilt his head to give him more access.

"Finally," Namjoon groans, voice hazy and somewhat distant, covering Yoongi in goosebumps. "I finally get to have you."

ahhhh, are we having fun, yet??? gosh, i love them so much. fun fact: this fic was written for a fest that had a 20k word cap for one shots and 40k word cap for two shots, and i ended up running out of fucking space. i went into a trance and wrote this fic like my life depended on it. and i have zero regrets.

thank you so much for reading!!! reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this hellsite and likes are appreciated too!!! i love you!!!

tags: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki @yoongoboongo0🌙 comment or dm to be added to the tag list!

INDEX | NEXT

#namgi #namgi a/b/o #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #alpha namjoon #omega yoongi #bts a/b/o #bts angst #bts smut #fic: one day at a time

140 notes · View notes

lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

Love Song for a Vampire Pt. 30

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Jacob Black x Bella Swan, Jacob Black x Witch!OC, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Warnings:none

Words:1987

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39

The ending didn’t come out like it did the first time I typed this up but it’s close to the original I had worked on last night 🙃

Shocked wasn’t enough to describe the jolt Jacob received when he opened his front door and found Bella. The last bit of hope that imprinting on the witch had just been a dream was quickly eliminated. Standing before him was the love of his life, yet he didn’t feel that same giddiness he once felt with Bella’s presence. That terrified him more than anything; how quickly imprinting changed one’s life.

Behind her on the dirt driveway was a small, tan car. Probably here replacement for her red truck that was totaled when Riley took her. Late in the day, the sky is already casting the world in a pink and orange haze.“Sorry to show up unannounced.” He can tell Bella immediately wanted to nervously chew on her bottom lip as she was prone to do but stopped herself. Subtle changes could be seen on her. She’d been spending time reflecting on herself and really thinking of what she wants in life.

“No, it’s okay.” Jacob steps aside to let her in. Bella hesitated for a heartbeat before walking through. I guess it has been a while since she’s come over.

They go to his room which feel so small now that there was another person occupying it.

He hated this strange feeling. It made him not know how to act in front of her. Like she was a complete stranger to him now and not the girl he'd been mooning over for years. Jacob watches her in a queer way as she perched herself on the edge of his bed. "How has the pack been?"

"Good. (y/n) and Edward left with the Denali couple to drive them back to Alaska." He noticed the flash of momentary hurt on Bella's face before she regains composure and nods.

"I remember them saying they'd be leaving soon." They hadn't spoken about her meeting with them. Jacob had been too focused on what was happening with him and how, even though he was in his human skin, he could still smell Evita's citrus scent that beckoned him to go to Sam's. The alpha had warned Jacob though about scaring her off before she was able to finish the wards that was to protect them from hostile creatures.

“They left last night and should be back in a few hours from the text she sent to our group chat.” Jacob shrugs. “

At that, Bella actually smiles. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Edward drives really fast. Even Alice does too. It must be a vampire thing.”

He tried to think of something else to say, anything to make his life feel normal again. There had been nothing normal about his life though. His mouth was dry and tongue heavy. How could he go on pretending everything was okay? Not to mention he couldn’t imagine how Bella would feel once she learned that another guy who she deeply cared about was taken because of imprinting once again. Her wounds were still healing from her breakup with Edward. It would crush Bella. Jacob may have imprinted on Evita, but he still cared for her greatly. Just not romantically, not anymore.

By the blessing of those above, a tremor in the air gripped Jacob and Bella. The hairs on the back of her neck stand at the tingling that was rushing through her. “Wh. . . What is that?”

The strong aroma of orange blossoms fills his nostril.

Evita.

This had to be Evita’s magic swirling in the air. It riled up the wolf in him, making Jacob want to spring into action. Were it not for Bella being present, he might have leapt through his window and run to Sam’s house where he knew the witch was staying for the meantime.

Underneath his skin, the animal trembled and agitated him from the inside where he felt uncomfortable in his human flesh.

Inhaling deeply, Jacob closed his eyes to steady his breathing which had quickened. “Magic.”

Bella does a double take. “Magic?”

He stumbles over his words but manages to get Bella up to date on what had been going on in La Push. Even Jacob felt silly about the things he said out loud to her, all of this sounded so unreal yet that’s what his life had become.

The air was still fluctuating with that sharp orange smell and Jacob could spot goosebumps rising on Bella’s arms as an after effect to nearby magic.

“Can I meet her?”

“You want to meet her?” Yes, a reason to see Evita! His wolf rejoiced that he’d finally be able to be near her again despite Jacob’s efforts to ignore it.

Bella doesn’t waver. “Yes. If she’s here to protect the town then I feel like I owe it to her to introduce myself. This. . . This is my fault after all.”

“Stop saying that.” Jacob hated how she pinned the blame of all of the events that had led up to Evita’s arrival. “It’s not you’re fault. Something like this was bound to happen ever since the Cullens came to town decades ago.

“Regardless,” Bella sighed. “I want to meet her.”

That’s how they end up in Bella’s tan Corolla, the small car sped through the empty streets of La Push to get to Sam’s cabin. The drive was overall quiet considering both of them were off in their own little worlds; questioning what they had felt in his room when Evita’s magic swept up their senses into a flurry. The wolf’s eagerness to be near it’s mate was unfathomable as Jacob felt his hands beading with perspiration.

He wasn’t ready to see Evita. Not yet.There was no way Jacob could trust himself to keep his imprinting a secret from Bella if Evita is near.

And Bella, her skin still hadn’t stopped shivering with an odd delight; the back of her neck continued to tingle through her neck and spine. She couldn’t begin to describe the experience. Jacob had called it magic.

The drive didn’t take long, Jacob and Bella were great up for that as Bella’s car pulled to a stop in front of Sam’s cabin. Excited chatter could be heard streaming through from the inside of the house.

Bella gets out of the car first allowing Jacob a few seconds to himself to calm the roaring wave of his heartbeat.

Breathing in a deep inhale, Jacob unbuckles his belt and pushed open the car door.

Smoke from Sam’s chimney twirls out in long ribbons against the mystical color pallet that sunsets are composed of.

From a fluttering curtain in a window, a face briefly appeared and spotted the two of them as they walk up to Sam’s porch. In but a few seconds does Paul open the door to great them. His eyes narrow with caution that confused Bella. Instantly a tension spoiled the air and the house grew quiet.

“Jacob. Bella.” Paul casually greeted but there was a strain to his voice. “Fancy seeing you guys here.”

“We came here to see Evita’s witchcraft.” Jacob is quick to say, hopeful that Paul would buy the reason for it was true.

“We felt the aftershocks and I asked Jacob to take me to meet her.” Explained Bella.

That made Paul’s eyes round. “Aftershocks?”

Sam appeared behind him. “Come in.” He merely instructed and had Paul step aside. “Jacob, stay in the back with me.”

Sam’s living room was crowded with other members of the pack and was wholly transformed into a candlelit space for witchcraft. His usual furniture was gone and in their place were an array of strange and arcane objects. The light from the fireplace made shadows flicker against the walls and distort the shadowy figures of those present.

Everyone leaned in yet kept themselves from straying too far into the circle that Evita had made on the ground.

A small bowl of herbs are slowly catching ablaze by the beckoning of her foreign words. Bella saw with her own eyes a river stone crumble all by itself into fine dust that is carried on an invisible wind and into Evita’s clasped hands. The delicate skin of her wrists appear paper thin as even Bella could see the many lines and rivers of her veins. They looked like they were made of lightening as they burned from under her skin.

Her lips move rapidly in her incantation, and as her words carried into the room, the energy shifted. Candlelight made the dark sway.

Entranced were the rest of the pack as they held their breathing, taking in the wondrous sight before them.

More sharp spices fill the air along with Evita’s citrus scent.

Jacob couldn’t tear his eyes off of her wild and flying curls that whip around her face that was lined with painful looking scars. To Jacob though, the dark scars that run along her face accentuate her fine cheekbones and full lips. A spatter of freckles add to her charm.

The wild wind of energy that had been swirling around her seem to fall away. Time itself felt like it froze.

Multiple breaths that had been held in up until that point exhale with an edge of relief. Her spell was complete.

When the candles are blown out by the dying breath of her magic, Sam slowly turns on the electronic lights of his house. Sitting in the middle of the living room was a pale Evita. Slowly she removes her top hand to reveal an object the size of a quarter and equally flat.

The color of it was the glittering shade of emerald. A warmth eminated from it.

Weary from her efforts, Evita explained with a tired voice “I have five more of these to make. They are to be distributed throughout Forks and La Push. The ward is this small so that it won’t be easily spotted by your enemies. We must bury them at six specific points. About a foot into the ground.” She passed it to Jared who held it with reverence. The ward made it’s way around the pack as they ‘ooed’ and ‘awwed’.

Leah and Seth gather around Evita to help her up and into Sam’s bedroom where she was regain her strength.

Jacob followed the trio with his eyes, unable to follow them thanks to Sam.

While Bella hadn’t been able to be properly introduced to Evita, the visit had been worthwhile. She’d never imagined that magic would look quite like that or that it would feel so intense.

When everyone had a chance to examine the ward, Paul snatched it from Collin’s hands. “This is to be put somewhere with the highest security. This may not look like much but it is essential if we want to keep our territory safe.”

This was not fun and games.

Sam put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, alerting him it was time for him to go. “She’ll be alright. She warned me ahead of time that this would take a toll on her energy. Proper sleep and food will do her good.”

If Sam hadn’t been Jacob’s alpha, who knows what he would have done. Any other wolf would consider Sam’s posturing as getting in between Jacob and his mate. Hell hath no fury like a wolf being kept apart from their imprintee.

Jacob was still experiencing a heady daze and thankfully didn’t put up much of a fight as he taps Bella’s arm to get her attention. She was still staring at where Evita had been creating her ward.

The simple physical contact coaxed her back to her senses and they slink to the front door. Both too stunned to utter a parting word to anyone.

Bella didn’t know how long they’d been there, but instead of the fuchsia clouds that were highlighted with orange there was now a vast sky filled with stars.

Stars were dull though in comparison to the headlights on Edward’s car that shined right at them.

——

Names that are in bold are ones I can’t tag for some reason

TAGLIST: @saltedcoffeescotch , @dangerouslittlefairy , @burn-crash-rqmance , @casedoina , @avadakadabra93 , @daryldixonstorm , @blue-aconite , @xanniestired666 , @esposadomd, @godinho11 , @arin-swear-rose , @alexizodd , @melaninsugarbaby , @lyeatoalinatoheaven , @ronwownsme , @itsmytimetoodream , @afro-hispwriter , @mutandis-extremis993 , @hxgemxscles , @nightly-polaris , @corrodedcoffins-slut , @ellesalazar , @itgetzweird08 , @crybabyatthediscooffandoms , @sassyandclassyx , @scarlet2007 , @theroyalbrownbarbie , @jennyamanda8 , @stevenandmarcslove , @biancaindaeyo , @loversjoy , @turningtoclown , @vixorell , @xxthackerybinxxx , @daredevilonmyheels , @dumbbitch-juice , @southern-bell-give-hell , @nat-the-gemini , @imdoingathingmomgmom , @emmettcullenswife , @yoong1c0re , @daddykylokenobi , @minjix

#edward cullen #edward cullen fanfic #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #twilight #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

147 notes · View notes

blouisparadise · 1 year

Photo

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics that both have A/B/O dynamics and are soft and fluffy! If you enjoy our rec lists and would like them to continue, please like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Seven, Seven | Not Rated | 1,877 words

“Hello, baby girl,” Harry says as soon as the nurse places the bundle of joy into his arms. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”

2) Send Me Your Pillow (The One That You Dream On) | General Audiences | 3,187 words

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.

3) Whisk Me Off My Feet | Explicit | 5,054 words

When Louis locks himself out of his apartment in just a pair of novelty underwear, he hopes his new neighbor can come to his rescue.

4) Purr And Shout | Not Rated | 5,274 words

The sound that escapes Harry's mouth couldn't possibly be a purr. He's an alpha, alphas don't purr. Or do they?

5) Take Me To The Stars | Explicit | 5,840 words

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

6) Young And Sweet | Explicit | 5,894 words

Louis sees his ex at the carnival and thinks that he must be the solution to his problem.

7) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8,996 words | Sequel

The cottagecore fic we all needed, featuring Petal the overprotective bunny, mummy Louis and alpha Harry that lives and breathes for his omega.

8) I Will Cover My Eyes (For If The Dark Returns) | Not Rated | 9,582 words

Alpha Harry asks omega Louis out and things progress from there.

9) When Tomorrow Comes | Explicit | 11,111 words

When Louis and Niall are partnered up to complete a project on Omega scents and how they effect the nesting behaviours of Alphas, little does Louis know that the course of his life is about to be forever altered.

10) Butterflies, The Beautiful Kind | Explicit | 18,401 words

Prompt 36: Louis is a single parent with a child who is terrified of doctors. However, one day, the kid gets sick. Thankfully the new pediatrician, doctor Styles, has wild curly hair and green eyes and a soothing deep voice that the kid immediately grows attached to.

11) Tiger Lily | Mature | 20,155 words

I worked next door and when he walked in, my whole world turned on it's head.

12) This Love Is Ours | Mature | 21028 words

“I told you to call me Harry.” Harry looks amused. It’s not funny. Louis throwing up because of him isn’t funny.

“But I’ve been calling you Mr. Styles for so long.”

“And now you’re carrying my baby.”

13) Swept Me Off My Feet (Took My Heart And Took Me Down) | Explicit | 25,447 words

When Louis had decided to reopen his mother’s bakery, he never thought a charming alpha would walk in through the door, let alone fall in love with him over tea, dessert and music.

14) Raise a Glass to the Four of Us | Mature | 25,470 words

Louis stared at his luggage.

Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”

“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”

Louis continued to stare at the luggage.

15) Yours To Lose | Mature | 25,472 words

“I think I know the person that matches your descriptions of your dream alpha.”

“Who? And oh not my dream alpha, god you’re making me sound like a teenage school girl. I’m a mum, H.” They laugh as they watch kids gather in front of the verandah, getting ready to go back to the orphanage.

“Well, you’re gonna have to find out.” Harry winks before standing up to start cleaning their spot.

16) Feeling Peachy, Take A Bite | Explicit | 25,654 words

Prompt 570: Omega Louis works at a cupcake shop. He makes the prettiest cupcakes and loves his job. In comes beefy alpha Harry who absolutely loves to eat Louis’ cake. Inspired by Louis being a cute baby girl handing out cupcakes. (no a/b/o necessary, but Louis has to be feminine).

17) Confections Of The Heart | Explicit | 25,877 words

Louis is a single mom, Harry is a pastry chef, and Oliver just wants his mom to be happy. With a teaspoon of love and a sprinkle of fate, the three might just find a home in each other.

18) I Know How To Whisk (But Teach Me Anyway) | Mature | 32,113 words

Louis scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t understand. Unmated alphas don’t just go into a rut out of nowhere. Unless…”

Louis grabbed onto Niall’s arm in desperation. “Am I a homewrecker? Does Harry have a mate? Oh my God, was he not flirting? Did the change in his scent not have anything to do with my smell yesterday? Did I just make that up!?”

Louis let go of Niall and dropped his face in his hands. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall stated. Louis looked up to find Niall rolling his eyes. He snapped his laptop closed and moved to stand up. “I need to get some work done. Why don’t you stay here and think back to ABO dynamics 101.”

With that Niall hopped off the couch and headed to his room. He stopped and turned to Louis before he made it to the hall and said, “Oh, and Lou. You may want to reconsider your outlook on soulmates.”

Louis yelled after him. “Soulmates aren’t a thing, Niall!”

19) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34,572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

20) I Found A Love For Me (Darling Just Dive Right In) | Explicit | 46,652 words | Sequel

Louis, an omega with very little control. Harry, an alpha with a lot of emotion. Neither of them have any idea what do to with this little thing called love, but they’ll be damned if they don’t put up a good fight.

21) Gallery Of Us | Explicit | 55,782 words

Harry knew what he was doing in life, everything laid out in black-and-white, each day pleasantly predictable. Cue lively art student, Louis, trying to find his place. An almost insufferably happy person who sometimes forgets to hide the way they feel meets the person who is diligent enough to notice and determined to make a difference.

22) Love Me Until The End | Mature | 207,053 words

“Dr. Styles there’s an emergency at the maternity ward. The head nurse called for you, he needs you there as soon as possible.” The trainee tells Harry over the phone, catching his attention. Louis Tomlinson, the Louis Tomlinson is calling him? He lowers his clipboard and nods his head, getting up from his chair.

“Tell Mr. Tomlinson I’ll be there right away.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp #a/b/o

122 notes · View notes

francesminos-tt · 5 months

Note

I would like to request Joffron from your Ñuhon inspired verse, the moment Daeron finally understands he’s in love with Joffrey… which is another moment in which Joffrey has a breakdown because his husband will never love him as much as he does his brother… (with a happy ending?)

This one is for dear Mash! Hope you like it!

“I need to go to Driftmark.” Daeron said to Joffrey after putting the letter down, “The Triarchy invites the throne to visit them and negotiate a new peace treaty. Lucerys volunteered to go on this mission.”

“…Okay.” Joffrey nodded after a short pause, patting Rhaenys’s back gently to prevent her from choking by the milk. Daeron needed not say more. Joffrey knew that his husband had to be part of the entourage in order to carry out his duty as Lucerys’s sworn shield. Even though Lucerys had personally relieved Daeron of duty after he had been betrothed to Joffrey, Daeron refused to accept it. Daeron was a stubborn man. He honored his oath more than anything.

“It won’t be long. I promise.” Daeron added, joining Joffrey on the couch and planting a gentle kiss on Joffrey’s hand, “We will fly on dragon back to Lys. If everything goes well, it will take a week, ten days at most.”

“You don’t need to tell me the details of the mission.” Joffrey replied, “You can come and go as you please. There is nothing keeping you here.”

“My daughter is here.” Daeron looked down at Rhaenys, who was sucking her mother’s nipple eagerly, “Be a good girl for your mother while I am gone, okay?”

Joffrey tried his best to keep his expression neutral, though his heart was arching with disappointment. He knew this day would come, didn’t he? He knew that Daeron’s loyalty to Lucerys would take the alpha away eventually. No matter how gentle and caring Daeron had been to him these past months, the alpha’s heart lied in somewhere else.

What were you expecting? Daeron might stay for Rhaenys, but not you. Never you.

“When will you leave?” Joffrey asked, “I will let the dragon tamers have Tesserion ready.”

“Tomorrow at dawn.” Daeron wrapped one arm around Joffrey’s shoulder, enveloping the omega with his scent, “I will prepare Tess myself. You don’t need to worry about anything. Just look after our daughter.”

Joffrey went stiff, fearing that Daeron might sense his erratic heartbeat. If Daeron noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“I will write whenever I can. Hel gifted me a raven bred by the Citadel. I will leave it with the maester. It can find me faster than any other raven. Send me a message if you need me, okay?” Daeron instructed as if Joffrey was a little boy, unable to live on his own.

“It’s you who don’t need to worry, husband.” Joffrey said, wiping off a drop of milk from Rhaenys’s lips, “I will be perfectly fine. I have lived in the castle alone longer than you thought.”

Daeron grabbed Joffrey’s wrist and brought the omega’s hand to mouth, licking off the drop of milk from Joffrey’s finger.

“I know you are capable of looking after yourself,” Daeron whispered against the back of Joffrey’s hand, “but I am your husband. I am allowed to worry about you.”

Joffrey had nothing to say to that. He just smiled, bitterly.

Liar.

Everything went back to normal after Daeron had left. Joffrey would wake up alone, wash his face before having moderate breakfast, read, dealing with estate matters if there was any, and spend the long, boring afternoons either playing with Rhaenys or taking Tyraxes out for a flight. He made sure Rhaenys get familiar with her little whelp, and personally fed the whelp with charred meat specially prepared for it. Life without Daeron was fine. He could get used to it. He had gotten used to it a long time ago.

Everything was perfectly fine until that night. Joffrey was jolted awake by a distant roar in the middle of the night. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was no longer in the dreamland. The castle was dead quiet, all its occupants in a deep slumber, even the tides brushing against the shore seemed gentle, almost sleepy, but Joffrey knew something was wrong. The roar came from the Dragon Mount, the volcano looming at the horizon like an ominous cloud. Joffrey had spent enough time with dragons from his youth to know that the roar could not mean anything good.

There was no time to think. Joffrey rolled off the bed and rushed to Rhaenys’s cradle, relieved to find his baby still sleeping peacefully, a small whelp curled at her side.

“My prince? Is anything wrong?” There was a soft knock on the door, followed by the rough voice of the guard stationed outside.

“Gather all the guards and troops.” Joffrey picked Rhaenys and the whelp up before throwing on a fur gown, “Tell them to clear the barracks and come to the castle. Quickly!”

“My prince?” The guard sounded confused, “May I ask why? Is there an attack?”

Joffrey pulled the door open with a panicked face.

“I don't know, Ser.” Joffrey said in a hushed voice, as if fearing someone might hear him, “But I know there is something coming. The dragons are being restless.”

The guard’s confused expression turned into one of determination and resolve.

“Right away, my prince. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, just go,” Joffrey paused, “quickly, please.”

The guard bowed and rushed down the corridor. Joffrey shut the door immediately after the guard turned to leave. It was a miracle that a seasoned knight would listen to him, an omega prince with no battle experience, who only lived in the castle by the courtesy of the Queen. However, there was no time to dwell on this. Joffrey ran the bell to summon his most-trusted maid, and send her to gather the defenseless maids and servants to the main tower. By the time the first Triarchy warship appeared on the shore, Dragonstone had already transformed into a strong fortress.

“How many ships are there?” Joffrey asked, standing at the head of the carved table in the war room. He still cradled his daughter to his chest, and by some miracle, the baby neither cried nor screamed. She just clang tightly to her mother, grabbing a handful of Joffrey’s gown, and stayed quiet.

“At least a dozen, as far as we can see.” The chief commander of the guards replied, “There may be more to come.”

“The Triarchy warships come in formation of six, so we are dealing with at least two battle groups.” Joffrey said, looking down at the carved table, though it offered little help to him now, “Can you tell me how those ships are sailing? One after another or in a horizontal line?”

“One leading ship in the front, and the rest follows in a triangle formation.” The commander replied, surprised at how knowledgeable the prince was. Few soldiers in his troops knew about the Triarchy warship formations. How could a well-protected prince know this?

“They are going to battle.” Joffrey murmured, his voice echoing in the large hall.

“Outrageous. They are challenging the Iron Throne!” Another knight spat, “How dare they attack the ancient seat of House Targaryen? We have dragons in the Mount.”

“Dragons without riders.” Joffrey reminded him, “The only dragon that can potentially help is my Tyraxes. That’s why I had it brought to the courtyard, but I won’t just fly my dragon into battle without knowing what I will be facing. Do you need me to remind you how vulnerable a single dragon could be, facing all these warships? One lucky arrow, and my dragon will be dead. So will I.”

The knight went silent. The omega prince had a point. One dragon against a dozen warships was not a good bet.

“The Triarchy has learned their lesson in the previous war with the throne.” Joffrey added, his face pale but his tone calm, “Their warships never sail too close to each other, so they are not likely to catch fire all at once. The good thing is, they have no idea we are already prepared. We can use this to our advantage.”

The air shifted in the room, but soon calmed down. All the knights and squires seemed to have finally realized how dire the situation was. They were at the front line now, the first line of defense.

“I need barricades set up around the harbor, and troops guarding the main road. I have already ordered all crops and salt be brought to the main tower. Our goal is not to defeat them, but to hold the castle for as long as possible, until reinforcements arrive.” Joffrey said as clearly as possible, letting the words truly sink in, his heart pounding against his ribcage, hard enough to hurt, but he continued, “Prepare for a siege, good Sers.”

“We will defend the castle to our last breath, my prince. You have my word.” The commander knelt down in front of Joffrey and kissed the ruby ring on the omega’s finger.

“And you have my blessing, Ser.” Joffrey said with all the dignity he could muster.

Daeron had not crossed Joffrey’s mind until this moment. Joffrey had learned to depend no one except himself from a young age, for he was always the other brother, worth little to none attention. Before he had presented as an omega, he was practically useless. He had no inheritance of his own, so his best shot was to join the White Cloaks or marry a minor heiress. His dragon was the only thing that differentiated him from a common squire. He was at least more useful as an omega, for he became eligible in political marriage.

Joffrey had sent the ravens to King’s Landing and Driftmark to inform his mother and brother, but he suspected the reinforcements would not come easily. Lucerys had gone to Lys, one of the Triarchy cities, leaving Driftmark vacant, and there were hardly enough fleet in the capital. Without the Velaryon fleet and the dragons, Dragonstone was vulnerable. Perhaps that was why the Triarchy decided to attack the ancient seat of House Targaryen. The trip to Lys was just a way to eliminate the threat of the Velaryon fleet.

Smart. Joffrey himself couldn't think of a smarter way to bypass the formidable Velaryon fleet. If the Triarchy wanted to attack in stealth, the last thing they wanted was to cause suspicion from Lucerys. Sending a raven to Lys would be premature. What if the Lyseni intercepted the raven and decided to hold Lucerys’s entourage prisoner? Joffrey could not let that happen. Besides, calling Daeron for help was never an option. What difference would it make? Daeron would never come. The alpha would always choose Lucerys over Joffrey. He would never leave Lucerys behind to come to Joffrey’s rescue.

“It’s just us now, Rhae.” Joffrey whispered to his incredibly well-behaved daughter. He didn't know what he would do if Rhaenys started crying. Rhaenys’s calmness was the only thing that kept him sane. The little child was all it took for Joffrey to keep fighting.

He could not break down. He needed to be strong for Rhaenys.

The trip to Lys extended longer than Daeron had expected. They were supposed to stay for only a couple of days, but the First Magister insisted that they stayed longer to explore the city and have a taste of the sweet Lyseni wine and sweeter Lyseni omegas. The negotiation went smoothly; the magisters agreed to every term that Lucerys brought up, even agreeing to cut off the ties with Dorne.

They mounted their dragons to fly back to Driftmark on Day 10. For some reason, Daeron was agitated. He couldn’t wait to get back. He couldn’t wait to see his daughter again. Was Rhaenys being a good girl? Would she grow? Had she learned to say papa?

Daeron knew he was being irrational. Rhaenys had not yet been weaned. It would take some time for her to learn speech, and it would definitely not happen in the 10 days that Daeron was absent. However, the alpha couldn't help but feel giddy, like a homesick boy coming back to his family. Strange. He had never felt like this before.

“You seem very eager to go back.” Lucerys said to him as the omega was ready to mount Vaghar with his husband. His own dragon was still too small to make the flight across channel with a rider on its back, so he let the peach-colored dragon fly along while he joined his husband on Vaghar.

“I miss Rhaenys very much.” Daeron replied, “Now I understand why my brother was so grumpy when he was separated with the twins.”

“Only Rhaenys?” Lucerys asked, but before Daeron could answer, the Lord of Tides smiled and dismissed the question, “Never mind. Let’s take flight, shall we?”

The flight from Lys to Driftmark took about a day. A gigantic dragon like Vaghar didn’t need to rest during the flight, but for Tesserion, the trip was testing the she-dragon’s limit. However, Daeron was so eager to go back that he urged the Blue Queen to keep flying.

“Just hold on for a little longer, okay? I promise you will have the best sheep when we land. Good girl.” Daeron said to his dragon in the roaring wind.

Things started to look strange when they flew across the Gullet. There were ships on the sea, which by itself was nothing unusual, but the ships were not part of the Velaryon fleet. Their number was so large that they almost blocked the Gullet.

“It’s the Triarchy!” Daeron could hear Aemond shout as the one-eyed prince urged Vaghar to fly above the thick clouds, “They betrayed us! Dishonorable cunts!”

For a prince, Aemond did have a colorful mouth, but Daeron couldn't blame him, not now. Daeron was also a war veteran, so it didn't take him long to understand the dire situation at hand. If the Triarchy had planned the attack from the beginning, it meant their whole trip was a setup. No wonder the First Magister tried so hard to keep them in Lys. The question was, they had successfully left Lys. If they were not the target, who was?

“Fly back to Driftmark!” Aemond’s voice came again, “Let’s hope Addam Hull is as good as he claims to be.”

Right. Driftmark. Surely the Triarchy would attack the formidable Velaryon fleet, wouldn't they? Eliminate the most powerful enemy first, right? It was in every strategy book.

Daeron’s heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. Aemond’s logic was right, but there was something bugging him. The line of Triarchy ships was not from Driftmark. Instead, it stretched from another direction, a little to the south west, where Dragonstone was.

Dragonstone. Dragonstone. Dragonstone!

“Fuck!” Daeron cursed, steering Tesserion in the direction of Dragonstone. He had no time to explain his worries to his brother and Lucerys. If his guess was correct, the Triarchy chose to attack Dragonstone instead of Driftmark, for Dragonstone had less fleet and troops guarding it. No one would have expected that the Triarchy would dare to attack the Targaryen House seat, and that was exactly their strategy.

How long had they been attacking Dragonstone? Had Dragonstone already fallen? How was Rhaenys? Had his daughter managed to escape?

How about Joffrey?

Joffrey landed Tyraxes in the inner courtyard of the castle. He slipped down his dragon, but his legs were so sore that he almost fell to the ground.

“Reports?” Joffrey asked, having to lean on a squire for support.

“All the outer entrances have fallen, my prince.” A disheveled knight answered him, “The remaining soldiers have retreated to the inner ring. We plan to hold the enemies at Dragon’s Gate.”

“How many days can the crops last?”

“Five days. Eight, at most.”

Five days. If the reinforcements didn’t come in the next five days, they would starve. Joffrey bit his lower lip, trying to think of a solution, but failed. He had already sent all the ravens out, but still no response. He suspected that the enemy had intercepted all his messages, so it was most likely that his mother hadn’t received his distress call. On the sixth day of the siege, they had lost so many soldiers that Joffrey had no choice but to let Tyraxes join the battle. He didn’t dare to fly out to the open water, so he only rode Tyraxes around the castle to fight off those who were lucky enough to break the line of defense. Tyraxes was their last hope. Joffrey could not risk losing his best partner.

“Make sure they don’t find our crops.” Joffrey instructed as he refused the goblet that was handed to him, “Save the wine for the wounded. I don’t need it.”

“You need to drink in order to feed the little princess, my prince.” The squire insisted, his boyish face pale and sunken, but his eyes were bright.

Joffrey sighed. The boy had a point. He could endure the hunger and thirst himself, but he couldn’t let his daughter go through the same ordeal. Joffrey took the goblet and gulped its contents down in one go. The wine was diluted, bland like water, but it was the best they had left.

Joffrey needed to reverse the tide. The soldiers and the servants all fought bravely, but there was only so much they could do. They depended on their dragon lord to save them, and like it or not, Joffrey was the only dragon lord they had right now. Joffrey couldn’t let them down. He needed to stand up. Be a true Targaryen.

If the ravens all failed, the only way to send the distress call out was by a messenger. However, the Triarchy sod had swarmed the pathway leading to the harbor that not even a fly could pass. Even if the messenger could break through the Triarchy soldiers, there was no way they could get pass dozens of warships in the sea. What could Joffrey do?

There was another option. Joffrey could fly Tyraxes to King’s Landing and deliver the message himself. He had been reluctant to put Tyraxes in the attack range of the warships, for fear that his dragon would meet the same tragic end as his brother’s. But now, he really had no choice, didn’t he?

“No, absolutely not.” The loyal maid who had been looking after Joffrey since he had presented threw herself in front of Joffrey, trying to block the omega’s way, “You cannot risk yourself like that. What about the little princess? What will happen to her if anything happened to you?!”

“If I don't take action now, my daughter will starve.” Joffrey replied with a tired face, “I cannot rely on others to come to our rescue. I’ve waited long enough.”

“The Queen will send troops, and your husband-”

“My husband is not here!” Joffrey couldn’t help but raise his voice, letting the frustration take over him, “He left me to fulfill his duty to my brother. I won't bet my daughter’s life on him.”

The prince rarely raised his voice like this. Joffrey was a considerate master, never asked for anything beyond reason, so the old maid had almost forgotten how stubborn the prince could be. Joffrey looked worse for wear, full cheeks now sunken like rotten apples, skin pale as sheet, numerous small cuts on his face and neck, and a nasty bruise on his left temple. He was pushed nearly to the limit. It was a miracle he hadn't collapsed yet.

“How about the Queen? Her grace will never give up on you, my prince.”

“Yes. Mother will risk everything to save me, just as I will risk everything to save Rhaenys.” Joffrey replied, his hard expression softening a little, “That’s why I need to deliver the message to her. We are under siege. Ravens are useless in this situation. Do you understand?”

She did. Of course she did. She had gone through too many conflicts to understand the cruelty of war. She just couldn’t bear the thought of Prince Joffrey putting himself in danger. An omega should never have to make that decision. Where was Prince Daeron when his family needed him the most? The old maid had never hated Joffrey’s husband as much as she did now.

“Yes, my prince.” She finally whispered, her arms falling to the side in defeat.

“Then help me change. I need to feed Rhaenys before I depart. Hopefully my milk will last her long enough for me to return.” Joffrey let out a tired sigh, stumbling a bit as if he had suddenly lost all the energy.

“I will protect the little princess with my life.” She promised, “I will gut myself and hide her in my corpse if I have to. Don't worry about us. You just focus on what needs to be done.”

“Thank you.” Joffrey whispered.

Joffrey decided to take flight on midnight. Fortunately, the moon had just turned, so the night sky was moonless. The thick cloud and Tyraxes’s black scales further played to his advantage. If he was lucky, he could fly above the clouds before being spotted by the Triarchy scout. Tyraxes was fast; it could probably make it to King’s Landing before the dawn broke.

The cold air made Joffrey shiver as soon as he stepped into the courtyard. The dragon tamers had already prepared Tyraxes for the journey, putting a new saddle on and feeding the last sheep to it.

“I know you are tired and hungry,” Joffrey said to his dragon as he gave Tyraxes’s snout a gentle pat, “but I need to make this trip so that we can all be saved. Hold on for a little longer, okay?”

Tyraxes huffed, letting out a trace of smoke from its nostrils, startling everyone except Joffrey.

“I know you are tough.” Joffrey chuckled, leaning in to place his forehead on the dragon’s cold scale, “I wish I can be as tough as you.”

Joffrey climbed onto the saddle swiftly, trying to focus on the task at hand. He had left Rhaenys with her wet nurse and a group of loyal guards and maids in the castle, for he couldn’t bear seeing her face when he took flight. He needed to be strong. Help would not come unless he seek for it.

The battle at the front had calmed down after nightfall, just like all the previous days of the siege. It seemed that the Triarchy didn't want to attack at night, probably being cautious of a possible dragon attack. Apparently, it was much easier to hit a dragon in daylight than at pitch black night. It was the Triarchy’s caution that had kept Joffrey alive so far, but as the enemy soldiers pushed in, they would eventually find out how weak the Dragonstone defense was. That would be Joffrey’s downfall. He had to act before the time came.

Tyraxes ascended the sky with a smooth flap of its wings, flying higher and higher until it was surrounded by clouds. For anyone else, surrounded by clouds meant losing orientation, but not for Joffrey. He had grown up in this island, so familiar with its terrain that he could fly Tyraxes blindly around Dragonstone. Years of training, flying, and running around all paid off now. Joffrey successfully made it to the sea without being spotted. He just needed to stay hidden for a little longer, until he flew across the line of enemy ships.

However, things began to go down when a bright flame pierced across the sky.

“Dragon Attack!”

At first, Joffrey thought he had been spotted, but soon another flame came, then another, and the omega finally understood that there was another dragon attacking the Triarchy warships.

Had reinforcements finally come? Joffrey’s heart elevated with relief and excitement as he steered Tyraxes down to join the fight.

Beneath the clouds, it was havoc. There was more than one dragon coming to his aid. Dragon flames set the warships in formation on fire, burning so bright that as if the sea itself was burning. In the red flames, Joffrey recognized Seasmoke, the pale-colored dragon claimed by Ser Addam Hull. There was an enormous figure looming at the horizon, so large that it blocked the sky. Vaghar.

If Vaghar was here, it meant Driftmark, or at least Lucerys, had learned about the attack. Joffrey had never expected he would be so relieved to see Uncle Aemond’s dragon, but having Vaghar at his side really boosted his confidence. Joffrey joined the battle with all he could, raining flames on the ships while using Tyraxes’s swiftness to dodge the arrows aiming at him. Two more dragons caught his eye when Joffrey had just successfully destroyed one of the flagships.

Tesserion glided in the air with grace, with another smaller, but no less elegant peach-colored dragon flying next to her. Joffrey’s heart skipped a beat, but soon sunk into his stomach with dread. His husband finally came, but not alone. Daeron came not as Joffrey’s savior, but his brother’s protector.

Knowing the truth was one thing, but being exposed to it so bluntly was like a blow to Joffrey. His starved stomach clenched with incredible pain as disappointment washed over him like cold water. Joffrey had to bit the tip of his tongue to prevent himself from vomiting. No. Now was not the time.

Tesserion didn't join the battle. Instead, it flew right in Joffrey’s direction. Joffrey had no idea what his husband was planning, and he had no intention to find out. With all the dragons here, defeating the Triarchy was just a matter of time. Joffrey could feel his adrenaline began to wear off, followed by an overwhelming wave of fatigue. Tyraxes flipped to the side to dodge another arrow, almost sending Joffrey straight into the burning sea. It took all his strength to keep holding onto the saddle as he maneuvered through rains of arrows.

Hold on. Do not give up now. The reinforcement had come. You are saved. Just keep going.

However, no matter how hard Joffrey pushed himself, his vision began to blur and he was slowly losing control of his dragon. Tyraxes knocked off the mast of a warship by flying too close to the sea surface, exposing itself in the range of the massive arrow specifically made to pierce dragon scales.

Tyraxes let out a pained shriek as an arrow hit its left wing, at the same time, another dragon shrieked in the distance, echoing Tyraxes. The shriek was too high-pitched to be made by a large dragon like Vaghar, Seasmoke, or Tesserion. Joffrey tried to look for his brother, but the enemy took this opportunity of distraction to launch another attack. This time, the arrow didn’t hit Tyraxes. It hit the black dragon’s rider.

Joffrey fell. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore from the arrow embedded his thigh. The fall to the sea felt like an eternity to him. He could see his whole life playing out in his head, the happy childhood, his mother’s warm embrace, the conflict, the war, the agony of losing a brother, the joy of having said brother back, the fear of presenting, the anticipation of his wedding, the disappointment afterwards, the pain of childbirth, the utter bliss of having his daughter in his arms, and the sadness when he noticed a blue dragon flew in the direction of a peach-colored one instead of him.

Joffrey realized just before he hit the cold water that his life was a total failure.

No one had seen Prince Daeron in such a furious state. The Blue Queen was the doom of the Triarchy troops, its scorching flame drove all the enemy to the sea before burning them alive. There was no captives, no prisoner of war, no one to interrogate because Daeron had killed them all. Even the one-eyed prince seemed surprised at Daeron’s show of violence.

Now, Daeron kneeled at the side of the bed, his hands clasped together in a praying gesture, as he waited for his husband to wake up. The so-called gentle prince, later known in the Triarchy as the Death Bringer, was nothing more than a desperate alpha who feared of losing his omega.

“Why didn't you send a message to me before it’s too late?” Daeron murmured, staring at Joffrey’s chest without blinking, as if he feared Joffrey’s chest would stop moving if he looked away, “I could have come earlier. I could have saved you, Joff.”

Joffrey made no answer. The omega was in a deep coma from the fall, the shock too much for his body to handle. According to the maester, it was a miracle that Joffrey even survived.

“If you didn’t catch Prince Joffrey in time, Prince Daeron, we would have lost him. You saved your mate, my prince.”

The maester’s words brought no peace to Daeron. If he had indeed saved his mate, why hadn’t Joff woken up yet? Why did Joff lie in the bed like a corpse now? If he had been a good alpha, why didn’t Joffrey call him for help first?

“Do you not trust me, Joff?” Daeron ran his finger over Joffrey’s cheek, “Am I being so bad to you that you would rather endure all this ordeal than asking me for help?”

Daeron had never been so desperate when he saw Joffrey fall from Tyraxes. He hadn't noticed Joffrey being hit by an arrow first, so he chose to drive off the enemies picking on Lucerys’s small dragon first. His reason was simple. It had nothing to do with choosing which brother to save. Lucerys was nearer. That was all. His experience taught him to be practical in battle, so he followed his gut.

Lucerys’s panicked face was what made his world turn upside down. Daeron looked in the direction of Lucerys’s finger, only to find a small figure falling from a small black dragon into the burning sea. Daeron’s head went blank. His heart literally stopped, the whole world turning silent as he could no longer hear anything, not even Lucerys’s voice. Daeron had never experienced anything like this. The absolute dread that paralyzed him, the deafening silence, the fear of losing his mate, his Joffrey, was just too much to bear. The feeling was distinct, new, and more powerful than anything he had never felt before.

It was at this moment that Daeron finally realized just how important Joffrey had become. What he felt towards Lucerys was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. He had worried about bad things happening to Lucerys before, but that was all it was, worry. It was not desperation, not dread, not wanting to destroy the cruel world that had made Joffrey suffer. He had been blind for so long. How could he be so stupid? How could he leave Joffrey alone? How could he allow his precious mate to go through such horrible ordeal?

Before Daeron realized what he was doing, he had already urged Tesserion to fly towards Joffrey and jumped off the Blue Dragon to catch his mate. By an incredible amount of luck, he managed to catch Joffrey just before the omega hit the water. He used his own body as cushion to mitigate the impact, and that was why Joffrey had survived.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I am so, so sorry.” Daeron felt his eyes burn, but he couldn't care less now. If his tears were necessary to bring Joffrey back, he would gladly cry his eyeballs out.

“Will you forgive me? Will you forgive the stupid alpha who have failed you so many times?” Daeron took a hold of Joffrey’s cold hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, “Will you give me another chance to properly love you?”

“…You must have mistaken me for someone else.” A weak voice said, too hoarse that Daeron almost missed it.

The first thing Joffrey saw after opening his eyes was Daeron’s face, covered in bruises and tears, lips pursed into a sad line. What was he sad for?

“Joff!” Daeron jumped from the floor immediately, but his legs failed from kneeling for too long, causing him to fall back, “Thank the Seven you are awake!”

Joffrey was confused. Why was Daeron here? Had he done anything wrong? Did anyone get hurt because of him?

“Is everyone safe?” Joffrey struggled to let the words out, his throat too tight to speak coherently, “Luke? Rhaenys?”

“Here. Have some water.” Daeron finally managed to get up and press a cool silver goblet to Joffrey’s lips, “It will make you feel better.”

Joffrey didn’t have the energy to struggle, so he complied. He drank like a thirsty horse, letting the cool water put out the fire in his throat.

“Slowly.” Daeron wiped off a few water drops sliding down Joffrey’s jaw, “No need to rush.”

“Why are you here?” Joffrey asked after he had emptied the entire goblet, “Did we win?”

“Yes, we did, thanks to you.” Daeron replied, though he was a little annoyed that Joffrey hadn’t asked about himself yet.

Joffrey let out a long sigh of relief. He tried to move away from Daeron, as if he was allergic to the alpha’s presence.

“Thank you.” Joffrey said politely, keeping his eyes down, “You can leave now. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Why would I leave?” Daeron took a hold of Joffrey’s wrist to stop the omega, “Why don’t you look at me? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No.” Joffrey replied, still not meeting Daeron’s eyes, “As you can see, I have woken up. I am fine now. You don’t have to stay. You are free to go.”

“Go where?”

Joffrey cursed the dumb alpha internally. He didn’t expect Daeron to be so, difficult. He didn’t need Daeron here. He couldn’t have Daeron here. He was too proud to let Daeron see him like this. He would be fine, eventually. He just needed some time to piece together his shattered self-esteem. He didn’t need a witness to it.

“Just go.” Joffrey murmured, trying his best to hold back the tears, “Leave me alone.”

“No.” Daeron answered with no hesitation, “I won’t leave. I have nowhere else to be.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Joffrey cursed with gritted teeth, “Go to my brother! Go to Lucerys! Make sure he is okay and well taken care of. Do you need you to spell it out for you?!”

“Lucerys isn’t hurt so badly as you. He has Aemond with him. He doesn’t need me.”

“Well, it has never stopped you before!” Joffrey was so angry that he could not hold the tears anymore. He sobbed. He fucking sobbed like a puny baby in front of his husband. He hated his inner omega who yearned for Daeron’s touch. He hated his feeling towards the alpha, he hated his moment of weakness, he hated the ugly jealousy he felt whenever Lucerys’s name slipped from Daeron’s tongue. He hated it all.

“Joffrey-”

“Leave me alone!” Joffrey cried, desperate tears running down his cheek, “Why do you always have to crush my hope whenever I let myself believe you might like me, even for a bit? Why bother showing me kindness if you are only to leave me behind eventually?”

Joffrey couldn’t hold back the raging emotions anymore. He had gaslighted himself into believing that he didn’t worth anyone’s love from the beginning, being too ordinary, too coward, too stupid, without an ounce of omega charm. How could he ever compare to his beautiful, brave, fertile, politically-savvy, perfect brother? Yet, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, his pride always got in the way. He just couldn’t give up. He might not be as alluring as Lucerys, but maybe he could make it up with his sword skills. He might not be as good a dragon rider as Lucerys, but maybe he could be the most diligent one. He might not be as fertile as Lucerys, but he tried to take care the only daughter he had. God. He tried so hard. Why was it never enough?

“You will always choose Lucerys over me.” Joffrey struggled out of Daeron’s grip and curled himself into a ball, “You will never love me no matter how hard I tried. If you can’t return my love, don’t give me hope in the first place, please.”

Joffrey never openly admitted his feelings to Daeron. He always acted indifferent when Daeron brought Lucerys up. He had to, or it would be too much to bear. Hearing his mate admit his love for another was like a stab to his heart over and over again. Joffrey had to hide behind the façade of indifference, or he would break down.

“You…love me?” Daeron murmured, more to himself than to Joffrey. His heart was beating so fast, blood rushing through his body as if he had been out running. He never thought he would the subject of the affection from such a brave, beautiful being like Joffrey.

“Are you surprised?” Joffrey said self-mockingly, “I let you take me over and over again. Do you think I will give my body to someone I don’t love like a whore?”

“No! No,” Daeron knew he shouldn’t be happy when Joffrey was in so much pain, but his whole body sang at Joffrey’s confession, every pore filled with tenderness and love, “don’t say that about yourself. You are so brave, Joffrey. You saved the whole castle. Everyone will be dead if not for you.”

“I barely did anything. I just sat in the tower like a coward.”

“No. You know who drove off the enemy eventually? The soldiers. They were so furious because their prince was hurt. They fought for you, Joffrey. You are their dragon lord.” Daeron took Joffrey into his arms despite the omega struggling, “I am so proud of you, Joffrey.”

“You left me behind. You flew to my brother instead of me in battle.” Joffrey said. He knew he sounded childish and jealous, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I know, and I regret it deeply.” Daeron tightened his arms around the omega, “I am a fool. I have been blind to the most precious thing standing right in front of me for so long. All I ever wanted is a mate of my own. I already have you, and yet, I haven’t even noticed your feeling.”

“You said you loved Lucerys, ever since you presented.” Joffrey was still skeptical.

“I thought it was love, but it’s not. I didn’t know it before, but I know now. I never felt so desperate when I saw you fall, Joffrey. It was as if my heart fell with you.”

“I fell for you first.” Joffrey whispered, letting Daeron’s kisses land on his ear and temple.

“And I will make sure I fall harder.”

Joffrey closed his eyes. Was that a promise? He did not know, but he was too tired to care. He fell asleep in Daeron’s arms, knowing for the first time that when he awoke, his husband would be there still.

#house of the dragon #hotd #joffron #my asks #joffrey velaryon #daeron x joffrey #daeron the daring #abo dynamics

29 notes · View notes